#start tagging posts with ‘’shiver tw’’.

[ev1lde4d]

do you know how devastating it is for me to have the shark themed idol quickly start becoming one of my least favorites just because of her fanbase. do you. do you

[onpointedfeetandbrokendreams]

Day 2 - Painland Week

Day 2 of Painland Week 2024: August 5th - August 11th by @painlandweek

Prompt: Myths / Legends

Tags:  Post-canon, Case-fic

TW: None

Edwin stopped writing mid-word - which, in hindsight, should have been the first evidence that something was wrong, if Charles hadn’t been distracted - and he asked:

“Sorry, wait a tick, you said you are trying to retrieve a lost sword from a lake, and the sword’s name is?” 

“Excalibur, yes,” finished the client.

Edwin tapped the pen over his notebook twice, not even pretending to go back to taking notes - second evidence - and threw the universal ‘closet, now’ look at Charles. For his part, Charles had been listening to the conversation like it was something happening inside a bubble, or on the television, something he wasn’t a part of. His brain had been stuck on a very different train of thought ever since the client entered their office, because the first thing Charles’ mind supplied him with was ‘wow, he’s hot,’ immediately followed by ‘uh, that’s new, since when do I find random boys hot’ and ‘wait, does that mean I can finally be not straight and return Edwin’s feelings?’ - all in all, very confusing thoughts to have in the middle of a potential case.

He did follow Edwin to the closet, though, because it was muscle memory to follow Edwin anywhere without question.

“So what do you think?” Edwin asked, “a curse?”

“It could be, if the missing sword is cursed that would explain why he can’t find it in the lake,” Charles replied, trying to cut through the haze enough to form a sensible thought.

Edwin raised his eyebrows in confusion. It was unusual for them to not be on the same wavelength, they rarely needed to explain themselves further during conversations on almost any topic. It made Charles feel like he had failed some kind of test. “Mr. Rowland, the reading assignments are mandatory to every student.”

“What are you talking about, Charles? There is no sword.”

‘What?’ Charles didn’t say, not eager to repeat the experience. 

Edwin apparently could see right through his desperation, because he sighed with that ever-present hint of fondness and explained:

“This man thinks he is Arthur Pendragon, the once and future King of Britain, on a quest to find his missing sword Excalibur. There is absolutely no way that it is true, hence the hypothesis that he might be cursed. It is not unheard of for ghosts to develop mental illnesses, but it usually involves more rage and screaming, thinking you are the long lost King of Britain seems too specific for that.”

Taking a breath he didn’t really need, Charles focused back to the present to catch up with Edwin’s reasoning. “I think we should play along, if he has been cursed, there has to be a reason, maybe he will lead us to the artefact, or the person who cast the spell on him.”

“That is a brilliant idea, Charles,” Edwin agreed with a smile, more to tell him that they were back on the same track than anything. It sent that shiver up his spine that happened every time Edwin looked proud of him.

“We have decided to take your case, sir Pendragon,” Edwin declared as they returned to the office.

“Thank you, my kind subjects,” Arthur replied, and Charles, who was now in control of his mental faculties, had to fight to suppress a snort. He pushed all the ‘men are hot’ thoughts in one of those carefully locked boxes he had started collecting after Port Townsend to consider at a later date, or maybe never.

--

The hike to the lake where the magic sword was supposed to be was incredibly nice.

“We should do this more often, mate. I mean, mirror travel is cool and all, but look at the view!” He pointed to the mountains in the distance, the clear sky, and he felt excited like that one time he went camping with his friends when he was fifteen - before those same “friends” ended up murdering him.

Edwin put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “That is a good idea, perhaps we could take a small vacation after this case is closed.”

It was nice to see Edwin like that, more open, more relaxed. Not having to fear Death separating them, or Hell coming back to take him had done wonders in improving his well-being, which made a lot of sense if Charles was honest. Now that he had seen Hell himself, he had no idea how Edwin had kept it together as well as he did for over thirty years after he escaped.

“I will have you two executed if you do not find my sword right now,” the client declared.

Charles was quick to bow, not trusting Edwin’s bedside manners enough. “We are sorry, sire, we promise we are doing everything we can.”

--

They looked everywhere on the lake and around it, Edwin even tried different spells to reveal hidden magic, but they found nothing. 

“There must be something we are missing, he does not have the object binding the curse on his person, and I can’t find anything of worth in this place,” Edwin said, moving a bit further from where Arthur was looking longingly at the middle of the lake.

“You know that sentence you wanted to write on the wall of the office? ‘When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth’, maybe he really is what he says.”

Edwin looked a very balanced mix between flustered and impressed. “While I appreciate you remembering my favourite quote, I think if King Arthur existed, we would have heard about it before.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Charles conceded.

While they were going over their notes again, trying to notice something they might have overlooked, or a different spell they could use, an eerie figure appeared next to their client. It was a very pale man, all dressed in black.

The next moment, they were sprinting towards him at full speed.

“Who are you?” asked Edwin, while Charles retrieved his brand new cricket bat from the pocket universe he carried in his backpack.

The man, or being, or whatever he was, smirked, which was an odder sight than if he had manifested eyes all over his body, or a flaming wall behind him. “You must be the ghost detectives my sister is so fond of.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I am Dream of the Endless, I apologise for the inconvenience my escapee might have caused you,” he continued, ignoring Edwin’s disbelief.

“Dream of the Endless,” Charles repeated under his breath, trying to make sense of the words. “So your sister, who is fond of us is…”

“Death,” he said, matter-of-factly. “She wishes you would stay and say hi, sometimes. For now, I thank you for your service.”

He turned to keep talking to Arthur then, and after a while the two of them disappeared in a whirlwind of sand, leaving Charles and Edwin to gape at the empty space where they had been. 

“Well that was an experience,” said Charles. “So he was, what? A dream?”

“What a thought, to stop and say hi to Death,” Edwin exhaled at the same time. He was smiling his relaxed smile again, and Charles found his eyes stuck on the curve of his lips, the hint of tongue and teeth peeking from them.

“So, you fancied the once and future king?” the lips moved to form the words, before going back to that beautiful smile. 

Only when the meaning registered, Charles blinked. “What? No, of course, I-” he started, before remembering that they did promise each other no more lies, “maybe a little. Didn’t you? He looked like, I don’t know, the perfect example of man, the one you would expect to see on an advertisement for the entire species?”

Edwin pursed his lips, in that expression he made when he was trying not to laugh. “I can admit that he was objectively good looking, but, you know, blond hair and blue eyes is not really my type.”

He said it in his prim tone, the same way he would say ‘pass me that green book on supernatural diseases’, but there was no mistaking the flirtatious glint in his eyes.

Charles stopped. For a moment, it almost seemed like Edwin knew something that he didn’t even fully know himself, something carefully hidden in one of those boxes “to consider at a later date or maybe never” that he had been collecting. But flirting was like a second nature to him, so he couldn’t help but replying:

“Yeah, and what is your type?”

“Let me see,” Edwin said, slowly, carefully, stepping closer with every word. “Tall, athletic, big dark eyes, unruly hair,” he was right in front of him now, “likes to throw himself into danger to protect others, what else? Insanely clever and perceptive. Shall I continue?”

Charles took a deep breath, his eyes were fixed on the small space between them. “I think I should tell you something.”

If it was on anyone else, the fake surprised expression would have fooled him, but he knew Edwin’s eyes and smiles better than his own. He had to struggle to remain serious, even if he appreciated it for what it was: a way to give him the time to set the pace of the conversation and to take the lead.

“I have never allowed myself to think about it before, you know, with my dad being the way he was, but lately I have been noticing that I am attracted to guys as well. At first it was only one specific guy, but-” he stopped, cringing at the way it sounded, “What I mean is, I didn’t say anything because it was something too important, I had to be sure, and it’s easier to admit you can like someone when you have nothing to lose from it.”

The flirty smile turned into a soft one as Edwin said:

“You have every right to take your time and experiment, you don’t have to say anything, I apologise if-”

Charles stopped him very effectively by cupping his face with his hands. “I don’t want to experiment with anyone else, I think I’ve locked up these feelings for long enough.”

Edwin’s eyes widened, he looked like every ounce of confidence he had mustered up until then had left his body. “As much as I pride myself in my detective abilities, I need you to please say it out loud at least once. It’s been quite difficult for me to believe it, even when you were not at all subtle.”

“I like you,” Charles said immediately, wanting to erase the insecurity from his face. “I haven’t stopped thinking about your confession and what it could mean for our future, and I think I am finally ready to take you out on an official date, if you still want that.”

It was Edwin who leaned in first after that, but like it happened many other times, they met in the middle, instantly on the same wavelength again.

Distantly, almost completely hidden behind the all-encompassing sensation of Edwin holding him and their lips pressed together, Charles thought about how absurd it was that he had to thank the fucking King of Britain for finally managing to have this conversation. Edwin would tease him for all eternity.

[multi-kpop-fanfics]

Do you ever just think about how lean Hoshi is and how good it’d feel to grind in his lap and listen to his pretty whines

tw: sub!Soonyoung, dom fem!reader, dry humping, praise, cumming in pants, use of titles (miss), dacryphilia - minors dni.

@horanghater tagged for science

"What's wrong, Soonie? Are you shy?" You coo at him with fake sympathy.

Soonyoung's hand doesn't budge away from his mouth, trying his best to muffle his needy moans. You click your tongue in annoyance and grab his wrist, pulling it away from his mouth.

"I want to hear you, pretty boy - even if you cry from feeling too good." You put his wrist down, your other hand perched on his naked waist.

"M-Miss-"

"What do you want, Soonie?"

"P-Please, go faster." He pants, eyes brimming with tears. "I'm begging you, please!"

"How can I say no when you're so good at begging for me?" You let his wrist and tilt his jaw upwards, your lips trailing over his cheeks to catch his tears.

You push his torso down on the bed and grip his waist with both hands, your hips going crazy over his lap. You start humping his clothed dick as if you were actually riding him with your bare pussy, but the fabric barriers heighten the neediness - it feels so close yet so far away at the same time.

Soonyoung is almost thrashing on the bed, his hands fisting the sheets beneath him to keep his mouth open, just like you told him. He bucks his hips to get more friction, but your hands keep him pinned down to the mattress.

"Don't misbehave, Soonie. I know you can be a good boy and behave - you know what good boys get when they behave well, don't you?"

"T-They get to cum." He stutters between his tears.

"Exactly. Can you do that for me?"

"Y-Yes, miss."

"Good boy."

You continue to rub your crotch on Soonyoung's, hands massaging his skin to elicit more whines from his mouth. He shivers when your nails rake over his the lines of his abs, his whines turning in loud moans.

"Miss I'm going to cum, oh fuck, I'm so close -"

"You want to cum, pretty boy?"

"Yes! Please let me cum!" He lurges forward with more tears in his eyes.

"You can cum, dear Soonie, you deserve it."

He bucks his hips twice and his cock explodes in his sweats, wet spots forming on the fabric. His face is covered in a bright pink color, his hair sticking on his forehead.

You reach out to swipe his hair away from his forehead and give him a sweet smile.

"You did so well, Soonie."

Soonyoung grins tiredly, cheeks glowing from his post-orgasmic haze.

"Thank you, Miss."

[brokenpieces-72]

Task force 141!gangster au x reader

Enemies?

This is part 4. Leave a comment if you want to be tagged in future posts. Navigation

TW: Police violence

The next week or so is… difficult. You send notice that you need time off. It gets rejected and Graves continues to come by to check in and all you can tell him is you sat in your apartment. Graves doesn’t comment, only shakes his head and leaves.

One night you finally leave your apartment, going off into the cold night. As you’re walking though, a couple of officers notice you. The rest is a blur.

You’re in pain, sore and can barely stay standing as you walk. You find safety in an all too familiar alley, where you had met Soap for the first time. You sat down and hugged your knees feeling sorry for yourself once again. Everyone was against you now. You couldn’t trust anyone it seemed. You let the cold seep into your clothes and your bones and prayed for something. You didn’t know what but something, something you could trust, someone who could tell you the truth.

Your father was always truthful. He encouraged you to be open with him, and he was open with you. If something was bothering you, and you didn’t want to talk about it, he would offer a trade. A story for your story. When he came home you would notice something bothering him, and offer the same. Never a lie between you too…but apparently there were secrets.

You were a long way from your apartment. A cab wouldn’t likely pick you up anytime soon. You recall the note Ghost had given you, as you shoved your hands into your pockets and pulled it out.

You wasted little time typing the number into your phone and texting it.

Y/N: Hello? I was told to text this for a ride.

???: On my way. Where are you?

Y/N: I’ll meet you near the library, downtown. It’s not far from where I am.

???: Red scarf yeah?

Y/N: yes.

You head over to the library, your bruises screaming at you along with the cold, making your entire body beg for comfort and warmth. You started wondering if you should go inside the library’s when a fancy black vehicle pulled up. The driver window rolled down and a man with dark skin peeked out.

“Y/N L/N?” He asks. You nod, and he gives a concerned look at you. “Back seat.”

You nod and open the door to the car, climbing into the back. The driver looks at you through the rear view while you shiver in the back.

“Kyle Garrick. Call me Gaz.” He says. You give a small nod and a tiny smile. The car starts moving. When it takes the wrong turn, you get a little nervous.

“My apartment-“

“Not taking you there. Someone wants to talk to you first.” He says, without looking away from the road. You sit in silence, leaning back in your seat. Soon you nod off to sleep, the familiar ambience of the car and your exhaustion getting to you. Your father used to insist you sleep on the way home. You enter a mid state of sleep, where you’re partially aware of what’s around you while your body relaxes and rests. As Gaz checks on you he decides to take a longer route to the destination, texting his boss.

When you finally wake the vehicle is parked and Gaz gets out, opening the door for you. He’s wearing a leather jacket, white shirt and dark jeans. You ease yourself out, head starting to hurt, the chill of the cold weather trying to reenter your body, and the remainders of sleep still trying to exit. At least your black eye wasn’t swollen shut and you could still walk. Silver linings.

When you look up to see where your driver had brought you, you nearly slip on the ice. Thankfully Kyle helps you off, before you could do more injury to yourself.

“Let’s get you inside before you do more damage to yourself.” Kyle teases, while leading you inside a club, one that was not only expensive but was known to belong to the main suspect in the case. John Price. Did Ghost sell you out? No blame there. Even still, you weren’t expecting a free ride included in meeting the head of the TK141 gang.

Stepping inside the place is empty save for a woman behind the counter of the bar typing away on a laptop and a larger man carrying in crates of alcohol and carrying out crates of empty bottles. The woman looks up at you and you swear you’ve seen her before. Maybe a work friend of your father’s. She just gives you a nod, and you return it. Gaz takes off his coat and strides in.

“Nik, ya need help?” He asks the large man. Nik just gives him a nod and Kyle picks up a crate. You stand there in the foyer, shifting nervously in place. You turn your head to the woman who notices your black eye. Without a word she reaches down from behind the counter and comes back up, with a rag filled with ice. She comes round the counter and gives it to you, and you put it to your eye immediately.

“Drink?” She offers.

“Water.” You croak out not noticing your throat was drying until she said something.

“John is in the far booth. I’ll bring it to you.” She says before going further into the bar. You slip off your jacket, but keep your beanie and scarf on, shuffling with your still wet boots across the wood floor.

He’s just a person. Another man. Just a man. You’ve met plenty of men, passed plenty of men on the street. What’s one more?

Except he’s the man who was with your father in the last moments. That’s what the reports said. Putting him away had been a goal for sometime. Even if you hadn’t joined the force you would find a way to find his killer. You were the only one left of your family as a result, and one of the only ones who was at the funeral. You recalled seeing a man at your father’s grave after the funeral. You didn’t say anything to him that day. Graves was more concerned with getting you back in the car, and giving you time to grieve in your own. When the police showed you sketches of Price you kept your mouth shut. Personal connections to a case weren’t permitted. Now here you were about to sit down with him and…talk? You wondered if you should record everything on your phone. Maybe salvage what you could of this case. Doubt it would matter with your own officers jumping you earlier.

You feel like you’re walking to the principal’s office with the ice on your eye, getting into another fight at school. When you reach the booth for a split second you expect to see your father sitting across from Price about to remind you not to resort to violence. The booth is empty except for a larger man with a simple t-shirt and a beard. His head is down and there’s half a drink left next to him as he looks over some papers. You stay there looking at him for a moment before deciding to climb into the booth across from him.

The space is quiet. You watch Nik and Kyle continue to moving things around to prep the club for tonight. The woman returns and gives you the water, asking about your eye again.

“John give the poor girl some notice.” She says, almost glaring at him.

“Almost done Laswell.” He says, without looking up. You look at the woman recalling the name. Your father had met with her a couple times when you were younger. She had aged a bit since then, a few age lines on her face, but still the same as you remember. The hair bun too.

Laswell huffs at Price and turns her attention to you. “Call if you need anything.”

She put a hand on your shoulder before walking away back to her work. Price finally turns his attention to you.

“You have questions?” He asks.

“A few.” You croak before going to take a sip of water, and stopping yourself.

“Stupid to bring you all the way here just to poison you.” He points out, recognizing your hesitation. You sip and find normal water. Time would tell. He’s looking at your sorry state. It’s enough to make shift in your seat.

“Cops?” He asks. You shrug. It’s bad enough they jumped you, it’s worse he was able to pick up on it. “Cops don’t like us.”

“Us?” You ask.

“Take after your father I’ve been told.” He says pressing his lips. You drop your gaze to your hands. “He never told you did he?”

“He told me everything.” You argue.

“…he tell you about how he helped me get started?”

You go very quiet. No. No he was a cop.

“Your father was helping us while doing his job. We do things differently, doing what needs to be done rather than everything we can do. Your father helped keep those limitations enforced, while keeping us out of them. He gave us the information, we went after it when the cops couldn’t. Opens the cases wider.”

You take a moment to think about it. More often than not you had been handed files and told to just store them in evidence boxes. Investigations rarely solved, court avoided, and you getting told to just do your job.

“Like what?” You asked. Price smirks, and shows you a paper with a few photos. A jewellery store, one that Farah and her group had hit more than once.

“You’re familiar with blood diamonds? Well you need probable cause to do more digging, so Farah breaking in and making accusations, raises some flags. Flags that lead to warrants. The Los Voqueros, not only get pharmaceuticals they jump on illegal drug shipments. Ones that big pharmaceutical companies use in their own products.”

“And what about you? What do you do?” You ask.

“We help those who can’t help themselves. We get our hands dirty in the right places, so others can stay clean.” He says, shifting and folding his hands, looking right at you.

“We?” You ask.

“Gaz, Ghost, Soap, Nik, Laswell, myself…you?” He gave a slight smirk.

“I’m a cop.” You say.

“So was your father. A damned good one. He let the right people go, caught the ones that needed to be put away.”

“I’m not my father… I’ve requested to be taken off the case, Graves is disappointed, my coworkers just beat me up, I lost the only people who cared about me because I thought I was doing the right thing… I’m nothing like him.”

“Not expecting you to be.” He says seriously. That was the first time you’d heard that from anyone other than your dad. He never expected you to be a cop or to be perfect. Only that you do your best, and be your own person regardless of your path. You take another sip of water.

“What are you expecting?” You ask him.

“Not sure yet. Heard you’re quite the artist.” He says. “Seen some of the work. Soap showed me the first one you made him. Certainly draws attention. Heard you had one for the Los Voqueros.”

“Doubt Alejandro would want me anywhere near them. Bridges have been burned, I can’t put out the fire and walk across it again.”

“Doesn’t need to be the same bridge.” Price offers.

“Oi boss? You still need me?” Gaz asks, dusting off his hands.

“Take y/n home. They need some rest.” Price says. Gaz gestures for you to follow him and Price gives you a business card.

“Call if you need anything.”

You nod and leave with Gaz, taking the business card with you. Laswell says goodbye as you pass her on the way out.

The drive home is surprisingly casual, with Gaz offering to let you ride passenger. When you arrive at your apartment though you spy Graves own car parked nearby. Shit. Gaz looks at you and notices where you were looking.

“Want company?” He offers. Bringing him would make things complicated, but also keep you safe. Alone, it was 50-50.

“Is there somewhere else I can stay?” You ask.

“Get your stuff, I’ll wait.” He says nonchalant.

You go upstairs to your apartment. Graves is there and sees you. Sees you were in a fight. He actually comes over and looks at you, checking your black eye.

“The fuck happened now?” He asks, frustrated.

“Some officers jumped me.” You tell him. Moment of truth. You see his confusion and mild shock. Did he plan it? Was it his idea?

“You need to go to hospital, fill out a report.” He instructs.

“I don’t want to… I’m tired, I just came to get my stuff, stay somewhere else for the night.” You explain. Graves at this point doesn’t want to try and press you. You’ve been struggling, and if you’re safe that’s his main concern. There worry in his eyes, as if he’s deciding to argue with you.

“You text me when you get there.” He tells you.

“Yes sir.” Graves leaves, not noticing Kyle’s car. You come back out with a backpack of your stuff and Kyle takes you to a hideout.

“Price finally talked to them.” Ghost tells Johnny over a game of pool. There’s a couple empty bottles place directly on the table for them to maneuver around.

“So?” Soap says, taking another shot pretending to not care. He hits a few balls but no sinks.

“You gonna keep calm?” Ghost asks. Their conversation is interrupted by a knock at the door. They both turned their heads to the sound. Ghost looks back at Soap while he makes his way to answer it. “Are you?”

Soap doesn’t have time to answer before the door opens. Gaz is standing there, and nods at Ghost.

“Brought a friend.” He says stepping aside. Soap steps a bit closer as Gaz walks in.

Soap sees you with your hood up, your old leather jacket, and your red scarf, shifting your weight on a slight limp. You see Soap.

You consider making a run for it.

@yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @H0n3y_L3m0n @sans-chara

[suicide-with-dazai]

"Diluc fluff scenarios"

tw: none !

tags: diluc x reader , esablished relashionship , 100% fluff <3

contrary to popular belief , dilucs heart isnt all that cold . sure , he lives for battle and revenge and the succession of his own industry, however , only you are aware that diluc has a soft side , a warm side . a side that climbs into bed next to your sleeping frame; whispering sweet nothings into your ears as he strokes your hair .

he may seem like a dangerous man to some - but you know hes far from it !

"luc...im cold..." you shiver as you toss and turn in bed , the window is shut but the freezing air attacks mondstadt like a vicious hound , biting at your fingertips and turning your lips blue .

"come, sweet girl~" he whispers deeply and softly as he wraps his toned arms around your body , kissing your forehead and making your heart flutter .

"i think you look really cute in that one~" he sits back on the dressing room chair , arms crossed and eyeing your figure as you try on a dress he picked out for you . a satin one , wine red ruffles hugging your waist and long panels of soft fabric flowing all the way down to the floor . you look ... perfect , you can tell by the way your boyfriend adjusts himself on the chair , trying not to stare too long .

you had been walking for about half an hour , and the sun was setting , he told you that he was going to show you something beautiful . the two of you reached a peaceful looking spot , with a large tree and a pond , just on the outskirts of mondstadt .

"soo... whats the beautiful thing you were going to show me ?" you sit down by the water , confused .

diluc kneels infront of you and softly says , "look in the pond."

you oblige , expecting to see a pretty lotus or a koi , but you see nothing... apart from your reflection . the moonlit starry sky behind you illuminating the ripples as you look into your own eyes for a moment .

you almost shed a tear , as youve been feeling a little insecure lately and you throw your arms around your kneeling boyfriend , his arms already out .

"isnt she pretty~?"

you nod , sniffling and resting your head in the crook of his neck . archons , he always knows how to charm you and make you feel like a nervous teenager all over again .

diluc treats your hands like glass , like theyre made of silk and holds them like a precious artifact .

"my treasure~" he whispers while he strokes and kisses the back of your hand .

its after hours in the Angels Share , and youre sat across from diluc , who is only slightly tipsy yet completely lovestruck . he intertwines his fingers with yours and brushes his thumb over your hand .

"i.... think i have a crush on you ..." he jokingly says .

you notice him blush and squeeze your hand tighter while he giggles like a child .

sat alone at home , you decide take a nap . gods , since dilucs been away on a business trip the house just feel so ... empty . you start to settle down , having nobody to cuddle you from behind .

but suddenly , you hear something slip through the letterbox . with a sigh you walk over to retrieve it .

'To my love ,

From Diluc Ragnvindr'

the envelope reads .

you quickly rush back to bed to open it :

'My baby , you have no idea how much i miss you , how lost i am without you , and how cold these nights get without someone to hold .

I hope youre okay , and coping well . Ill be back in a week , i promise , and ill give you the biggest kiss and cuddle youve ever had . Im eager to return to you , however this business trip could be a life changer for us - just know that i really love you , and i miss you darling .

- Luc ♡'

your eyes prick as you fold the letter back up , holding it in your arms as you drift off to sleep.

reblogs welcome <3 check out my pinned post i worked really hard on it :')

[pretendingtoknowhowtowrite]

TITLE: Tight Jeans (You will be mine)

Summary: Dean and you always teased each other but nothing really happened until now... you are alone in a motel room since Sam had to go with Jack somewhere else. You are wearing one of his favourite jeans...things get spicier in an instant as Dean can't take his eyes off of you(r ass).

TW: anal - cursing - smut -let me know if I need to add something

TAGS: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader - 18+ - smut- penetrative sex - anal - fingering - name-calling - bites - just smut tbh, be prepared - DomDean - spanking

Words Count: 2.5 k

I'd love to read your feedbacks, so feel free to say it anonymously or comment this post :)

English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistakes.

You were walking down the hall of that shitty motel. Dean let you go in front of him with a smirk and a hand gesture, masquerading the fact that he simply wanted to stare at your ass with such a chivalrous act. You chuckled as you could feel his gaze on your body, your lower body to be precise. You knew he did that only to stare; you were wearing those tight jeans he always complimented. <<Your ass is asking to be slapped in those>> he said the first time you wore them.

<<Enjoying the view?>> you asked him while turning your head to see his face. You expected him to look away the moment he realized he had been caught red-handed, like he always did, but not this time. His gaze was fixed on your ass, he was staring at you while licking his lips. You were the one that looked away this time, blood rushed up your cheeks and between your thighs.

Dean and you always teased each other with innuendos and allusions, sometimes Sam would even yell <<get a room you two!">> with a pissed tone. Your chuckles always followed that frequent reproach. But that was all, nothing ever happened. This time... something was different, his innuendos were different. Sam wasn't with you guys because he was with Jack off to...somewhere? To be fair, you weren't listening to him while he was explaining it to you. Why? Because the moment the younger brother said <<you must go alone with Y/N this time>> Dean looked at you, pointed at your body, bit his lower lip, and mouthed the words: "you will be mine".

<<I'm gonna take off those jeans later, you know?>> he snapped you back to reality. <<Yeah, sure Dean>> you replied with a bratty tone while, as a matter of fact, your panties were soaked since the two of you entered the Impala and he started talking to you. Like, c'mon... the moment you got in the car that morning he welcomed you with a smirk and grabbed your inner thigh, moving his hands on it for too long, and then proceeded to whisper good morning in your ear and bite it. He went on like that all day. That was more than what he usually did, and it had been like that since 5 a.m., it was fucking 11 p.m. now. Your body was flustered and aroused; you could only think about that "you will be mine".

The two of you were now standing in front of the motel room, Dean was opening the door while looking into your eyes, <<l mean it, I'm gonna take those off. Maybe even rip them off>> he said with a hushed tone that sent a shiver down your spine. You swallowed your saliva the moment he unlocked the door and the two of you went inside the room. It was shitty, like usual, dirty, like usual, but there was a double bed and just that. <<What is that supposed to mean?>> You said with a hinted smirk while pointing at the bed and looking at Dean's green eyes.

<<Oh baby, you know exactly what it means>> he answered, threw your bags on the floor, and pushed you against the wall. He firmly held your wrists above your head, your lips millimeters away. You stared at each other for a couple of seconds and then he kissed you, a desperate, passionate, deep kiss that made you melt. A moan escaped your mouth... <<that's the first of many more>> he said while smirking. Dean quickly took his and your t-shirt off, kissed you again, and then reached for your neck. He bit it softly, leaving marks on your body. In the meantime, he reached for your bra and took it off, exposing your breast. He stopped kissing your neck and stared at your tits <<Fuck>>, he moaned, <<you're so beautiful Y/N>> he said whimpering. His hands grasped your breast and started folding it, caressing it and then his fingers began pinching your nipples <<Oh...Dean>> a moan of pleasure and his name escaped your mouth again. <<You need to let yourself go baby>> Dean said while looking at you. He pressed his body against yours and got closer to your ear, you could feel his bulge through the fabric of his jeans pressing against your waist. <<I love when you make such lewd noises>> he whispered in your ear and reached for your waist. Then he went down on his knees and pulled down your jeans, but they were tight, and your sweat was making that simple activity hard. He ripped them off, straight away, and exposed your panties. <<Dean, what the f- >> you tried to say since you were pretty much shocked about that, you liked those jeans, but you couldn't finish the sentence as he slid your wet panties off and slightly slapped your wet cunt <<Oh, look at you baby, were you this drenched since when? Since this morning when I rubbed your thighs or ...since this afternoon when I held your waist and smacked your ass?>> Dean interrupted you, still on his knees and looking up into your eyes. <<Come on, stop teasing. You've done it all day long already>> you answered with a flustered tone. <<mmmh>> he added, and started rubbing your clit <<Should I?... No, I don't think so baby>>. You started moaning loudly now, his thick and experienced fingers were rubbing, circumnavigating, pinching, and stroking your clit faster and faster. You started trembling on his hand <<Good girl>> he said and stood up again. He lifted you up and put your naked body on his right shoulder, you were basically hanging on him, your ass near his face. <<Mmmh, I like the view >> he said while staring at your asscheeks and proceeded to smack you hard, leaving his handprint on you. <<Fuuuck>> a moan and a squeal left your throat as you felt his big hand slapping you. You loved that, you adored that roughness, <<do it again>> you whispered, without thinking. Dean spread your asscheeks apart and then smacked your ass again with a big grin on his face <<That's my girl> he said while doing it. You were so fucking aroused by it and juices started dripping down your thighs. Dean laid you on the bed and started unbuttoning his jeans, his big bulge wasn't making it an easy task, his boxers got caught in the middle, so the moment he took his pants off he was completely naked. He got closer to you and whispered <<turn around for me babygirl>> and fuck, you did it without thinking twice <<Atta girl!>> he grinned and started moving his hands on your hips and on your butt, folding it, spreading it and looking at your dripping cunt and tight asshole.

<<Please Dean>> you moaned. Your hips couldn't stay still, your pussy was dripping wet, and your body was asking to be fucked. <<Don't be so greedy baby>> he said and shoved two digits inside you, immediately searching for your g-spot. The moment your walls tightened around his fingers he understood he found it and pushed another digit inside, he started to move faster and harder. <<Fuuuck>> you moaned and started twitching and moving your hips even faster, cumming on his hand <<Please Dean>>, you said and turned your head a bit to look at his face <<Fuck me, please>>. Dean smirked, looked at your red face, and bit his lips,<<Okay baby, only cause you're asking it so nicely, but...>> then got closer to your ear again, pressing his hard dick against your back<<But after I made you cum again I'm gonna shove my dick up your ass, is that okay babygirl?>> he said with a hushed tone that sent multiple shivers down your spine. <<You can put it wherever you want Dean>> you said while looking at him. <<Good girl>> he replied, pushing his thumb up your ass. It was painful at first but then Dean rubbed his dick against your pussy and pushed it in slowly, the pain was gone, and you were filled with pleasure. He lifted your butt a bit and started moving inside of you with his cock, in and out, slower at first and then always deeper, faster. He was moaning so loudly and holding your waist with one hand while fingering your ass with the other. <<You're so tight around my cock Y/N>> he said, while moaning your name. You were really tight because you couldn't stop twitching around him, you could feel your juices dripping and Dean's heavy breath was driving you crazy. You started moaning his name louder and he laid his sweaty body against yours, letting go of your waist and ass for a bit <<Oh fuck, I love it when you say my name like that Y/N, don't stop>> he said. You started screaming his name and his thrusts were faster and harder, reaching deep into your womb. He slid his hand on your hips and reached for your clit again, he started stroking it like mad and you couldn't help but to start shaking and trembling around his cock. <<You're doing so good for me Y/N>> he whispered in your ear and started kissing your back while fucking you. That was your last straw, you gripped the bedsheets and started shaking so much around his cock, you cummed and couldn't stop moving, every thrust was pure bliss. <<Such a nice view>> he grinned; you could feel his smirk on your back.

He started decreasing his pace and added <<you know what that means, right? I'm gonna fuck that pretty ass of yours now>> he spat on his fingers and pushed 2 of them inside your asshole. A moan of pleasure and pain left your body. He started stretching it and moving his fingers in and out while moving his hips, not letting you go. <<M-more>> you moaned and spread your asscheeks for him. <<Fuck Y/N, you're a dream>> he moaned and shoved another digit up your ass and spanked it. You yelled his name in pain but fuck... you really wanted him and just started moving your hips again. <<Look at you, so greedy for my big cock>> he said and pulled it out of your twitching cunt. He slammed and rubbed it in the middle of your asscheeks, and then pushed the tip inside your ass <<Tell me if I need to stop baby>> he said between one moan and another. He was so fucking big inside your tight ass but he gave you time to adjust around his width and after some seconds you told him << Put it in, slowly Dean>>, he did so, he slowly pushed his dick inside your ass and when all his length was in he moaned and said <<I wanted to do this for so fucking long Y/N, you have no idea>>. You were holding your breath as his dick was twitching inside of you, but those words made you melt and relaxed your body, that hint of pain was now completely gone and so you started moving your ass to let Dean know that you wanted him just as badly as he did <<Me too Dean>> you replied while moaning. As you started moving around his dick Dean lost it and started moving faster and deeper, he pressed his body against yours again and started folding your breast while fucking you hard. Your moans filled the room, you could feel Dean's cock growing bigger with each thrust and wanted that moment to last forever. Dean started pinching your nipples but one of his hands went down and started fingering your pussy again, you didn't expect that and the moment he found your g-spot again you started screaming, twitching, begging him to fuck you more while cumming on his hand <<Oh baby, you're so hot, and you're all mine>> he said whimpering. The orgasm made all your body tighten up and so did your ass, Dean lost it and filled your ass with his hot cum, driving the both of you crazy with pleasure.

Dean let go of your body and pulled out, your ass dripping with his hot cum <<Fuuck>> he said while looking at your butt <<you're so fucking beautiful Y/N, you don't realize what you do to me>>. You turned around and looked at his face, Dean was covering his flustered face with one hand. You smiled and he kissed you again, another deep and passionate kiss, then he laid down next to you.

Some seconds passed... <<That was so good>> Dean and you simultaneously said. You looked at each other and burst out laughing.

<<Why the fuck did you rip my jeans off Dean?>> you said with a joking tone <<The fuck am I gonna wear tomorrow? yours?!?>>. Dean looked at you silently and laughed again, rolled over, and said <<I didn't like how other men would stare at you, okay? ...And I got carried away>>. You giggled and hugged him, the fact that he was the little spoon was hilarious. <<I forgive you Dean>> you said, with a bratty tone that made him turn over your face. <<You naughty little brat. You really think you are the one in charge, uh?>> he said with a teasing look on his face and stared at your face <<well... maybe you are>> he added and kissed your forehead <<but the important thing is that you're mine>>.

You blushed and curled up in his body. <<I love you>> he quickly said, whispering in your ear. You opened your eyes and looked up at him and answered <<I love you too, Dean>>. You stayed there, lying in bed for a bit and then you went to quickly wash in the bathroom. When you got out Dean was waiting for you on the bed, his gaze locked on your body again <<Don't you dare wear something tonight>> he said in his husky voice. You chuckled and replied <<No Sir>>, ran towards the bed and quickly went under the blanket. Dean hugged you and the both of you fell asleep, he was sleeping on his stomach, facing you and holding you with one arm, never letting go. He looked so peaceful sleeping.

-

Rays of light seeped through the window, and you rubbed your eyes open only to see that Dean was already awake, lying next to you. You smiled and he said <<Morning sweetheart>> with his morning voice and a smirk on his face. Oh, that hoarse voice was too much to handle ... you covered your embarrassed face with both of your hands and replied <<Good morning>>. Dean giggled and kissed your forehead.

You smiled and looked at the ceiling. <<Dean>> you said <<you must go buy me some pants>>.

Both of you burst out laughing and he replied <<Of course baby>>. That was the first of the many hunts you did without Sam .. or anyone else in general.

[br4inr0tx]

HI I’ve been looking for someone that writes for the thanksgiving movie ever since I watched it. Masked slasher/voice changer do things to me.

Anyways can I request HCs with John Carver and someone he’s had this eye on for a while nearing thanksgiving? Feel free to get creative! Hope you have a good day :]

Sure thing! I feel the exact way about slashers..Urrhrghrh I love this man so much y’all I’m going to be SEARCHING for John Carver roleplayers AAAAA (character ai just doesn’t satisfy me enough ig 😓)

Happy Thanksgiving <3

tw - MASSIVE THANKSGIVING 2023 SPOILERS, stalking, death, manipulation, deception of gore, kidnapping.

Eric Newlon…

• Eric has had his eyes on you for a month now. He’s been very careful, as he knows all too well about how the smallest of details can ruin absolutely everything. You simply just don’t know it yet.

• The John Carver killer stalks and records his victims as you know. I’m retrospect he’s had his eyes on you longer then you think. Watching and carefully planning every detail.

• And you wouldn’t even have a clue.

• It’s around Thanksgiving time. You get around enough to know a few kids in town, and talk to people. Maybe, you even reminisce about the lives lost a year ago.

• It pains you to know that nightmare is all coming back. Faces you recognize are found missing or dead, and it’s been freaking you the fuck out.

• Not to mention those posts you keep getting tagged in are so very unsettling. Your name at a table with other chairs and names of people you may or may not recognize. The anxieties just kept coming and coming..

• Luckily, Sheriff Newlon has been there to help you during these rather compromising times. He seems to always know the best thing to say when you’re stressed out, and it’s kind of nice. You hind yourself recently stopping by his office just to spend time with him while he does research, and let me tell you, he eats the attention it right up.

• He assures you, nothing will hurt you when you’re with him. He won’t let this deranged killer harm you. You’re too sweet to lose. He jokes about how he could care less about those other foolish teenagers, but is he though?

• At work recently you’ve had these people you can’t stand. They never get their work done and seem to get away with it, along with being unserious and silly all the time. It hurts to focus most of the time..so frustrating. Their newest topic is bringing up last year’s incident too, which heightens your anxiety.

• Recently..they haven’t been showing up to work. Sure, you could use a few days without them, but now with this all going on? You can’t help but have a bittersweet feeling about it all.

• You decide to stay with Sheriff Newlon, or as he ushers you to say, Just Eric. It calms your nerves for the most part as he talks about things to get your mind off this whole mess. He promises you it fucks with his head too.

• After a minute Eric groans, shaking his head at the computer. “I gotta go copy some papers, I’ll be right back.” You nod, sitting back in your chair as you waited for his return. A long awaited return, too.

• You start to daydream, staring off at the walls aligned with case after case tied to the recent events of murders. It sent a shiver down your spine.

• You stood up, walking over to the pinboard and reading all of them. One paper caught your interest in particular, and as you picked it off the wall you knew exactly what it was. Your co-workers..they were tied to this. They went missing just like the others, and one of their purses was found on the side of the street with everything in it, from identification to money, like their only purpose was for the person themselves to be taken..

• You cringed hard reading it all, and as you tilted the paper upwards to bring it into more of the light in Eric’s dim room, the reflection on the plastic sleeve gave you quite a fright.

• After a quick turn around, you saw him. The John Carver Killer. As soon as you made a move he strikes, grabbing you and shoving you right against the desk and over it with your hands above your head, and with his free hand a Chloroform filled rag shoved roughly against your mouth and nose.

• In the hysteria there wasn’t much you could do. Anytime you struggled he’d grip your hands a little tighter as a warning. So much so he managed to crack your knuckles and almost even bend them in an awkward direction. That was until you finally fell asleep.

• When you woke up, you were at the front of the table, your hands tied behind your back. You weren’t gagged, but by the looks of your surroundings and the way the light shines through the boarded up windows nobody would hear you if you screamed anyway..

• What’s more, those pesky co-workers are around the table with you, all dead in different creative ways.

• John Carver appears behind you, placing his hands gently on your shoulders. “Isn’t this nice, Y/N? Everyone together, just having a nice dinner?” His head lowers right next to your ear. His voice sounded somehow robotic, perhaps because he was a voice changer. “Just like a Thanksgiving should be, right?”

• He sighs, like he had an amazing little daydream. The way his hands ran down your shoulders too..it’s the same way the sheriff used to. “I know you’ve been feeling lately..and I know you appreciate the true meaning of Thanksgiving. I made you something special, no strings attached..”

• You’re favorite meal, whatever that may be, was right in front of you. It looks delicious too..not any sort of gore or cannibalism you’d expect from the bodies all around. How would he know something that specific like your favorite food though? “Open up..” He feeds you the food himself, not trusting you just yet to let you go.

• If you don’t want to eat, be that way. He can warm you your food back up if you change your mind, but don’t ever say he didn’t have good hospitality.

• “You remind me of someone I used to know, Y/N..” He gently pushes your hair out of your face, feeding you another piece if you decided to play along. “So kind..not like those others who only care about themselves.”

• He keeps explaining everything he likes about you..even down to the smallest detail, which shakes you to your core. “

• “In fact, this year, I’m thankful for you. <3”

[quinnyundertow]

Sanity’s Last Stop

Synopsis

England 1941

Forced to work after the death of her father y/n finds themselves filling a nurses role at Hillsboro Asylum for the Criminally Insane. The patients and workers alike have her questioning her own sanity in this new insular world during WWII.

Ryoumen Sukuna has become a fixture in solitary confinement for the last seven years. His sanity was barely there before but now it is frayed beyond redemption. A good will gesture brings him and y/n into a strange secret relationship

Okkotsu Yuta swears he isn’t insane he didn’t hurt anyone it was Rika who killed those people. Just because no one else can see her doesn’t mean she isn’t there. You believe him right?

AN: So excited to post this! Horror Dark Romance are my favorite genres so this is not going to be the same as my main fic. Please check the tags and trigger warnings!

Setting is England WWII I realize all the characters have Japanese names but there is no avoiding it with the original source material.

TW: Misogyny, Gaslighting, Gore

I made up Takeda Geto all others are from JJK.

Chapter 1

Mind Your Fingers

England 1941

“Stupid girl, what did I tell you about watching your fingers!” The old nurse yells in your ear, just about making you jump out of your skin. You are watching your fingers. You are being painfully careful so as not to accidentally touch anywhere near the open metal slat at the bottom of the heavy iron door. There is a two inch drop from the door’s mail slot style opening to the ground. Your fingers begin to tremble as you hold the tin tray, full of some slop they called lunch, halfway through the opening. Waiting for the person on the other side to take the proffered meal. The tips of your fingers are starting to turn white as you are only able to barely hold the end of the tray. The weight of it strains against you.

“W-what do I do if he doesn’t come to take his tray?” You ask, trying to keep your voice steady and sounding somewhat confident.

“Ungrateful spawn of satan.” The elderly nurse Ogami bites out, causing you to flinch at her disgusting words, “Drop it then. He’ll eat it off the floor or he won’t eat.”

Your heart twists painfully at the cruelty displayed. Even though the people residing here have committed terrible crimes the residents are still mentally disturbed and rely on you for care. “There has to be a better way?”

Nurse Ogami rolls her eyes, heaving a sigh that is meant to relay her annoyance with you, “Move girl.” Despite the woman’s liver spotted and wrinkled fingers she has surprising strength in them as she snatches the tray away from you and unceremoniously pushes it to the floor with a clatter. “Keep up this belligerent attitude young lady and you’ll be out on your luck before the month is out. You may think your special with your young looks and connections but there’s no room for error here.” When the old woman spins to you she has a malicious gleam in silver eyes. “The girl you replaced lost three fingers one night. Stupid girl pushed her hand too far in. Ryoumen was waiting just out of her line of sight and the second he saw one of her pretty tan fingers he grabbed her arm and pulled her to her elbow through the food slot. Bit each of those fingers off like he was eating part of his lunch.” You can’t help but shiver and wonder how much of the woman’s story is actually true.

Straightening your bleached white nurse's frock, you meet her eyes and respectfully dip your head, “Thank you for the warning head nurse, I'll be more careful in the future.” You pull the metal lever that shuts and locks the opening you utilized at the bottom of the door. Moving the wooden stepping stool, you thought to bring today, you push it against the door so you can see through the barred and glass protected window at the middle point of the door.

The massive man inside is easy to spot in the expanse of white. His dull orange almost pink hair is a brilliant flare of color in the otherwise stagnant room. It is a wild mess on his head, stroked backwards from repeat combing motions with his fingers. He sits hunched over at the edge of his cot. His entire frame is hulking and muscular and you wondered how he manages to maintain his physique while trapped here. His elbows are resting on his knees, hands knitted together as they flex sporadically. His face is downturned so you could barely see the bizarre facial scarring he had given himself before his capture. “Inmate Ryoumen Sukuna is accounted for.” The old woman says nothing as you step down and mark up the piece of paper you brought with you to make sure each patient receives their proper medication and meal.

You tuck the wooden stool under your arm before going to push the squeaky metal cart down to the last patient in this wing. “Just one left.”

The elderly woman grunts, turning her back to you, “You always feed those in solitary confinement last. They are being punished after all. They’re lucky they get two meals a day and a warm place to sleep. We have noble men on the front line dying from frostbite with empty bellies.” You had heard around the lunch table yesterday that old lady Ogami, as the other girls called her, is especially bitter due to her precious grandson being shipped off to somewhere in Yugoslavia to fight the German scourge. You can’t blame her for being bitter but you don’t feel like that means you have to treat the patients here worse.

The final painted white metal door S25 looks the same as every other one in this wing. Before Mrs. Ogami could comment, you push up your stool and peer in. The young man in this room is almost the exact opposite physically of the man you had just tried to feed in room S23. He is lanky and thin looking; under fed and malnourished. The second your eyes meet the back of his head the man turns suddenly his eyes locking on yours. His dark raven colored orbs met your own. No particular emotion is held there; the man just looks exhausted. Painted under his eyes are large dark circles, his eyes rimmed in red. You couldn’t help but wonder if they are red rimmed from crying or maybe they always looked like that. “Patient present.” Stepping down carefully, you give the stack of papers in front of you a once over .

Patient: Okkotsu Yuta

Sex: Male

Age: 27

The paragraphs below outlined his lack of dietary constraints, medication required and any other doctors notes. You can’t help but notice his notes from the doctor today stated that due to his consistent compliance he is recommended to be moved back to the institution's general population next week.

You make sure his tray is together. Complete with a small paper cup that has two little chalky pills inside to lower his anxiety. Taking the iron lever in hand you tug so that the meal slot screeches open. After giving Ryoumen his tray only moments earlier you can’t help but keep your fingers as far to the back as possible as you leaned to slip the tray into the three inch slot.

The ward is unusually quiet at the moment and due to this you can hear the inmate’s bare feet padding across the tile flooring. You feel the weight of the tray being released from your fingers as the person on the other side takes it gently from you. The man clears his throat before a soft spoken voice emanates from the slot, “Thank you.”

You are surprised as this is the first person today to thank you, “You’re Welcome.” Your response probably sounded happier than it should have but the tiny bit of kindness gives your day a bit of a silver lining.

“You do not speak to those in solitary confinement!” You wince in response to being scolded again.

“I’m sorry, head nurse” You hear a voice on the other side of the door mumble the apology. You bite your cheek instead of replying before repeating the same closing procedures you did at S23. Though when you look up to confirm the inmate is accounted for he is no longer looking in your direction.

As the two of you leave the solitary ward, your long gray dresses swish below you. You still aren’t used to the way everything looks the same in this institution. All the walls are white and not a picture is to be found as decoration. The only thing creating breaks in the staggering white landscape is an occasional sign directing those inside to various locations (Dispensary, Lobby, Clinic) or reminders to staff (When distributing medications check under the patient’s tongue for hidden pills, For Emergency Security dial 99 or pull panic alarm).

Despite any minor complaints you are incredibly grateful to have this job. Not only is the pay more than fair but it is in the field of medicine where you have always held interest. Maybe after you learn the ropes you can make a difference in the lives of those who live here.

You both pause before the heavy set of double doors that lead from Solitary. Demonstrating to the head nurse you are in fact learning you pull the string that rings the brass bell on the other side of the door and wait for security to unlock the door and permit your exit. The wait for the security officers to release you seems to vary from seconds to minutes depending on what is going on across the complex. Your anxiety always seems to ratchet up in the time from when the bell is rung until the large metal lock thunks and the door swings open.

The security guard who greets you on the other side of the door is grinning from ear to ear as he looks you over. “Did you have fun in there?” Your eyes flick to him briefly before pretending you didn’t hear him. His features are handsome and boyish. His fluffy white hair and striking blue eyes have a habit of pinning you in place when he addresses you. His frame is tall and muscular not that you were looking. You didn’t have to look to know his shirt has the name tag Gojo on it.

When you started here you had barely gotten your foot in the door before you were being warned about him by your fellow nurses. He was labeled a notorious flirt and womanizer. One to avoid if you want to keep your reputation clean and above all other warnings, do not fall in love with him.

The older woman looks like she is about to scold you or maybe even Gojo this time when her train of thought is interrupted. “Ah, there you are Y/n.” The familiar soothing tone nearby makes you look over with surprise and fondness. The entire reason you had ended up working in this facility was due to your father’s long term friendship with the esteemed facility director Dr. Takeda Geto. His son, Dr. Suguru Geto and your childhood friend stopped short of your small group. You couldn’t help the quick flush that covered your cheeks, at the attention. You had hoped to assimilate into the facility with as little fanfare as possible. The newest man to the group stopped and placed a hand affectionately on Gojo as they shared an almost conspiratorial grin. On the outside the two couldn’t be more dissimilar but it seems they had also cultivated a long term friendship.

You quickly curtseyed in response, keeping your head down. Despite your friendship with Suguru you wanted to be accepted in this job by your own merits rather than who you knew. Even if being hired hadn’t worked that way.

“Well if it isn’t the young master Dr. Geto.” the old woman doted; the young part surprising you as Suguru Geto had to be in his thirties now. Her tone is much more engaged than it had been at any point during your training this week. You couldn’t help the tiny quirk of your lips in amusement at the drastic change of mannerism.

Looking up you see Suguru has turned to the woman to address her while Satoru Gojo’s eyes are still locked onto you. His cerulean orbs twinkling in a mischievous manner. He is clearly noting your amusement despite your attempt at hiding it. You can't help but lift your hand to your mouth and clear your throat to cover your expression. Suguru turns at the noise flashing you a gentle smile before pushing his glasses higher up his nose. “How has training been going today?”

You look away to study a nearby sign pointing to the Security Desk, “Head nurse Ogami has been very kind and thorough in my training.” you respond respectfully.

Suguru Geto makes a long humming noise while Satoru Gojo outright laughs at the obvious lie. Anyone who has met the head nurse knows about her taciturn personality. Suguru ignoring Gojo gives Nurse Ogami a charismatic smile before noting, “I would expect nothing less from Mrs. Ogami. You can’t help but note the lack of formality he uses when he addresses the older woman now. The fondness you see in her face is not missed by you as she speaks with him. You can’t really blame the woman. Suguru Geto has been known for his charm and good looks for as long as you have known him. His familial wealth and status don’t hurt his public perception either. “Mrs. Ogami, I'd like to borrow nurse y/n for my lunch break if it doesn’t interfere with your schedule too much.”

Surprise evident in your expression, you look up at Suguru quickly, “I’m sorry Dr. Geto I already took my lunch break today-.” At Suguru’s frown, the head nurse speaks over you.

“Not to worry Dr. Geto we have finished the afternoon rounds. Anything she needs to learn can be postponed until tomorrow.” You can’t help but look between the two of them in confusion. The last thing you desire at this point is any form of favoritism, especially in front of your new coworkers who may or may not know your prior connection to the director’s son.

“I-” you are unable to break the silence before Suguru smiles attentively at you, derailing any argument you were starting to craft as to why you shouldn’t go with him.

You see Suguru turn to nurse Ogami giving her a conspiratorial wink, “I owe you one, Mrs. Ogami.” the older woman brushes him off but a faint blush on her cheeks lets you know his words are far more effective than she lets on.

You feel obligated to thank her despite not wanting to go to lunch with Suguru in the first place, “Thank you Head Nurse.” You dip slightly in the appropriate curtsy before looking up at Suguru questioningly. The smile he gives you in response is benign as he gestures for you to follow him. When he walks past Gojo he clasps him on the shoulder before leaning forward to comment something into his ear that you aren’t privy to. The comment provokes a laugh out of Gojo before he heads back to the Security Office.

When you don’t immediately move to follow Suguru, he prods you verbally, “Shall we?” You don’t really have a choice in the matter. At least it feels that way, as you follow two steps behind him trying to keep a professional distance as he leads you to his office. You haven’t actually been in his office yet. Well, his fathers office. He leads you towards the entrance of the building where the directors office is situated. The location makes it easy for him to attend to visitors or in rarer cases government officials.

He takes a moment to unlock the door before gesturing you inside. Once in you take a quick look of the surroundings. Not much has changed in the furnishings since Suguru had unofficially taken over the room. His fathers medical licenses and diplomas have been swapped out for his own and the desk nameplate has been changed. Other than that all the bookshelves and desk items remain the same.

There are two chairs in front of the large oak desk and one behind it. “Please sit.” There is a tinkling noise at the door as you register he’s locking it from the inside with his keys. You can’t help the small shiver that races up your spine. Even if you have known Suguru the majority of your life the action seems strange and internal warning bells are ringing. He jerks the handle to ensure the door will not be opened by anyone other than himself before he opens his suit jacket and tucks the key ring into an inside pocket.

You sit as instructed but you are hardly relaxed. Your body leans towards the edge of your seat, “Why did you lock it?”

He raises a brow at you with a curious smile, “Does that make you nervous?” He moves around the desk to gather a few items, presumably his lunch.

You resolve yourself to sound unbothered as you decide to respond, “No.” The last thing you want to do is offend him.

To your surprise he comes back around to your side of the desk and sits in the chair next to you, “I hate being interrupted. A simple lock prevents that from happening. Besides, this place is full of unstable individuals. One can never be too safe.”

“I see.” You are trying to find a way to voice your concerns to him without being labeled with the tags that women are so often given for having boundaries.

He’s spreading out his lunch an easy going air to him as he leans back in his chain before crossing a leg over another, “Come on, give me a smile you look much prettier that way.”

You try but it doesn’t feel very convincing. You had only been here two days and you had noticed a fairly big change between Suguru’s attitude now and when you had known him before your fathers death.

All your interactions previously had been when Suguru and Dr. Takeda Geto had visited your family's estate in the countryside. The two of you had talked, played, and studied together every summer for years. Your fathers smoking cigars and drinking expensive brandy in the backdrop. Suguru has always been so shy, quiet, and respectful. Now within the property of the Hillsboro Asylum for the Criminally Insane he is still quiet and respectful but there is a confidence behind every movement he makes. He’s in an environment he fully controls and that factor isn’t lost on you.

He pulls out a sandwich and takes a bite; scrutinizes your uneasy expression, “Tell me what’s worrying that pretty little head of yours. You’ve been on edge since you got here.”

“Ah.” You can’t help but feel guilty. Dr. Takeda and Suguru have done so much for you the least you can do is be appreciative. You manage to muster a much more genuine smile, “I’m sorry Dr. Geto I-“

He gives a lazy laugh, his arm moves to rest behind your back on the chair you’re seated in, “You should just call me Suguru, Dr. Geto feels so stuffy.”

His fingers slowly gravitate to a strand of your hair that escaped your starched white nurses cap. He catches it within his fingers tugging it lightly.

You blush heavily at the intimate touch, “I’m worried about perceived favoritism. I don’t want to be treated any differently than the other employees. I want to assimilate with the other nurses.” He’s watching you closely and you can’t decipher his expression, his fingers still gently twirling in your hair. Your face grows heated, “Private lunches in locked offices won’t look proper.” It wasn’t just your reputation you were worried about even though that was a concern. You hoped to make friends out of the other nurses in this new place you would call your home.

Suguru leans back and considering your words a long humming noise escaping his throat. He sits forward, his elbows resting on his knees now as he takes you in. He has a soft smile on his lips but it isn’t quite meeting his eyes. “It’s a little late to worry about favoritism, don't you think? Why else would I have hired you if not for that? I could have hired any old local girl if not for my preference for you.”

You feel a lump growing on your throat. When Dr. Takeda visited just after your fathers recent passing the job he offered seemed like a lifeline. “I-I have knowledge in the field and experience with medication management-“

Suguru laughs out loud, cutting your words off, “Come now y/n. Sure you’ve read some books but you aren’t particularly bright. Women like you are a dime a dozen.” He takes a bite of an apple his tone conversational and casual. “With the job shortages around the country I have women lined up begging for work and you come here acting high and mighty with unwieldy demands.”

Your face flushes and your eyes burn at his comments, “I’m sorry Suguru I hadn’t considered-“

Suguru stands brushing off his pants and avoids making eye contact, “Of course you didn’t. You only consider your own feelings when all you should be worried about is what I think.” He moves to the door and unlocks it, his every movement laced with irritation. “Leave, your ungratefulness is souring my lunch.”

You quickly stand feeling like you're back in grade school and being dressed down for misbehavior. Suguru has always been so balanced and logical; you can’t help but know it must be you at fault for this disagreement, “I’m sorry Suguru, please forgive me. I didn't mean to sound ungrateful. Please don’t be cross with me.” Your tone is higher pitched and more vulnerable than intended. Your eyes glassy with held back tears.

He finally meets your gaze and sighs heavily, “You know I can’t be angry at you for long.” His hand comes up to your face as he softly rubs your cheek with his knuckles. The motion causing a tear to spill down your cheeks. He smiles at that, “There there. Go home for the day and put something nice on. Father and I expect you at dinner tonight, don’t be late.”

Your emotions are all over the place as you head for the exit to the Asylum. You are a fool to think you had been hired on your own merit despite the relationship between your family and Dr. Takedas.

The exit routine for the building takes several minutes. With many weighty doors unlocking and locking. When you reach the front entrance the process is just beginning for another man. The security seeing you approaching waves you forward into the same interlock area as the man to allow you both to do the exit procedures at the same time.

The young man looks up at you, his eyes a golden brown. He’s tall and well built but it is his facial scars that really catch your attention. A thick jagged line races between his eyebrows, the left side of his cheek and lip marred, and under both of his eyes are almost identical check shaped scars. Despite the rugged damage across his countenance when he looks up at you his face goes from a disappointed scowl to concern. “Hey are you okay?”

“Move forward!” A guard calls out ready for you to exit into the next man trap room.

You feel another tear roll down your cheek and you look at the kind face across from you etched with worry. He moves forwards toward you a step and it's only then you notice he is missing a leg, a wooden crutch is braced under one arm.

Embarrassment floods you as you try to wipe away any evidence of your tears. “Yes I’m terribly sorry. How unprofessional of me.”

He tilts his head to the side, the motion reminding you of dogs when confused. “Unprofessional? For having emotions?”

You don’t know how to respond to that. He studies you while the exit procedures are completed and you both find yourself outside in the cold winter air. “My names Yuji, Itadori Yuji.” He’s looking up at the gray cloudy skies with feigned interest, “I’m kinda here a lot. Visiting.” His gaze meets yours again as he gives you a smile that tilts a little on his damaged side. “I don’t think we’ve met yet though.”

Something about his smile is so disarming, “Oh, I’m Y/n L/n, I just started here a few days ago.”

His smile seems to grow brighter, his eyes twinkling with genuine happiness. It has been such a long time since you have seen that in a person. “Well maybe I’ll see you more often then!” He watches you a moment and you return his authentic happiness with a real smile of your own.

“I hope so Mr. Itadori.” He laughs outright at that which catches you off guard.

His grin is infectious, lazy and lopsided, “Mr. Itadori is my Grandpa. Yuji is more than fine.”

You nod the flush on your cheeks now from the cold and pleasant company rather than the shame and embarrassment moments earlier, “Alright, Mr. Yuji.”

He laughs in response, his tone rich. “Not exactly what I meant but that will do. Can I walk you home? I’m heading down to town now.”

The offer sounds nice and you probably would have accepted had it not been in the wrong direction, “I actually live in the nurse’s dorms on the property. Thank you for the offer. I enjoyed our chat and hope we will get to talk again in the future.” You give a quick bob of a curtsey as he gives a jaunty wave in return.

“Nice meeting you Miss L/n!” As he turned to make the slow trek down the lane to the main road you couldn’t help but look back at him. He has the strangest hair color. Despite the rarity of the bright orange pink shade it is strikingly familiar.

[mysticstarlightduck]

Writing Share Tag!

I just started writing the first (out of three) main chapter of Kye Thalax's backstory and I am so sorry for my boi 😭. I don't wanna suffer alone writing these chapters - and they are important for his character arc as a grown-up later on - so I'm posting a snippet of his backstory Ch.1 for feedback and whatnot here!

BUT MAN I AM SAD. I cannot wait for Kye's Revenge Arc after writing these backstory chapters 🔥

(Also it is a pretty dark Backstory snippet so, TW for - Dark themes, Abuse/Domestic Abuse, and Lady Eldora being the shittiest mother and wife in the entire galaxy. Though I'm being honest that whole villain is TW in her own right.)

Kye peeked into the war room, standing on his tip-toes to peek behind the obsidian black stone doors, watching the conversation unfolding within with anxious, flitting eyes.

"You are seriously the most worthless man I have ever met," Came Eldora's voice, his Mother's voice, condescending and sharp like a razor, "I gave you one simple task at the gala last night. All you had to do, was look pretty and convince those stupid diplomats to bend the knee."

She chuckled, dark and bitter, and Kye hated how the sound made his Dad's shoulders curl in on themselves as the young man stood before her. After the short, pause, Eldora continues, rage visibly building up within her, as she tilts her head, "And somehow you manage to make a scene and embarrass me in front of all those people!"

She ends her sentence with a yell, shoving the young man with such force he is basically thrown across the room, toppling some chairs and a vase, before hitting the wall. There was a yelp of pain as he watched his Dad push himself off the wall with some difficulty, and, even though hidden by the doors, five-year-old Kye could see Damen's hands beginning to shake.

"I'm sorry Milady," His Dad's voice is flat and pained, and despite the fire in his eyes, he does not rise from the ground as he speaks, keeping his head bowed. "Y-You're right. I have failed you. I… I am sorry."

Kye felt his heart sink as if drawn to the furthest reaches of the planet's core. He willed his small, kid legs to move, but yet, he remained rooted in place, fear - or some sort of innate self-preservation wisdom - keeping him from trying to intervene.

Eldora growls, striding forward with thundering steps that send a shiver down Kye's spine until she's standing over Damen. "Y'know, one day that 'I'm sorry', isn't going to cut it." She grasps his chin, claws digging into his pearl-white skin, "You're lucky you are my consort and you need to look presentable. Though you'd better know how to act like it, or there'll be worse consequences. Understand?"

Kye saw as his father nodded fervently, the young man's bright blue eyes staring emptily at the warlord, fearful "Yes, Lady Eldora. Forgive me."

Tagging: @winterandwords, @eccaiia, @sarahlizziewrites, @illarian-rambling @agirlandherquill, @anoelleart @unstablewifiaccess, @forthesanityofstorytellers @i-can-even-burn-salad, @cakeinthevoid, @finickyfelix

And I'm also gonna leave this an OPEN TAG!

Supernova Initiative Taglist (-/+): @ray-writes-n-shit, @sarandipitywrites, @lassiesandiego, @smol-feralgremlin, @kaylinalexanderbooks,

@diabolical-blue @oh-no-another-idea

@cauliflowermaterial, @clairelsonao3, @sleepy-night-child

@thepeculiarbird

@the-golden-comet, @urnumber1star, @ominous-feychild @anyablackwood, @amaiguri,

@lyutenw, @finickyfelix, @elshells, @thecomfywriter

Let me know if you'd like to be added!

[c-u-c-koo-4-40k]

Can We Have a First Date Now?

Warnings: Gender Neutral Reader but female genitalia is used.

Smut specifically fellatio.

PTSD.

Feelings of inadequacy

Problems with communication (they're trying but they're both inexperienced in romance)

Fear of losing love.

Fear of doing things wrong.

Consenting to sex while not in the best headspace because they fear dissapointing Khopesh.

Khopesh thinking they fully eagerly consented with no mental baggage

Next Chapter Is Out. Find it Here!

Previous Chapter Here:

And if you want to read this story with full context the prequel, and the link to the first chapter is here:

There be angst here lads, with the return of Night Terrors and a bad night's sleep, Lullaby attends to their morning chores while having deep conflicting thoughts about their situationship with Khopesh.

Tag List: @bispecsual-archived @bispecsual @kit-williams @egrets-not-regrets @bleedingichorhearts @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @barn-anon @sleepyfan-blog

Meanwhile, as Khopesh was enjoying his huge heaping pile of delicious breakfast, you waddled around your barn wincing in pain and wishing you'd remembered to take some painkillers before bed.

Lord above, your muscles felt like they'd been put through a barrage of rolling pins, and you felt like you could just lay down on the concrete floor and Sleep.

But, the meds you'd taken were at least trying to take the edge off. And hopefully soon you'd be able to finish the last few task and collapse back in bed.

Focus, focus, focus either on the pain or the last bits of feeding and Not how this was the first time in the last twelve hours you've been without the major element that brought a whirlwind of chaos into your life all in the matter of a single Night!!

...Breath in,

...Breath Out...

Okay, back to w- (!)

Your left oblique proceeded to twinge and lock up for a moment leaving you hissing in pain.

"Why can't Tylenol work any faster?" You groaned, waiting for the spasm to pass.

As it did, you bleakly thought that if he was going to fuck you inside out, He could At Least offer his help to his...

Bonded?

No, he was bonded to Gary and Nancy. Quite adorably you might add. You always got a kick seeing his huge dangerous space soldier self happily refer to your neighbors as Vada and Muti.

Fuck Buddy? Friend with benefits?

Well...the way he'd been talking seemed too...serious for a label like that. All that growling and biting and...claiming.

You shivered as a dusting of heat oozed over your skin at the memories. You shook yourself out of it.

Lover?

Were you lovers? Everything had happened so Fast! One moment you were bantering and trying to make him flustered, next you'd goaded eachother into a literal roll in the hay, and then you'd invited him over for a shower and a sleepover!?

(And he literally saw you break down crying from a night terror about- No no. Bad memories. Not adding those to the spiral.)

Still Lover was a very Strong word. As was Partner, Other Half...

Your mind suddenly brought two other titles to mind.

His Pet, or perhaps...his toy...

You felt a shiver of a different kind come over you, one of revulsion.

You...Really didn't like that.

Maybe it was best to leave the exact...verbiage of your interactions unnamed for now.

You could both figure things out as they come (if they come).

Take things one day at a time. (How many days do you have?)

He clearly likes you (for now), and you like him, so you can go from there.

He wouldn't...he wouldn't have comforted you if he didn't care. (You know he can Stop caring.)

Are you sure your heart could take that...again?

"Enough!" You shouted.

To an empty barn...(aside from the horses.) Your voice caused the sleeping cats to perk up.

You felt embarassed and God you just wanted to go back to bed. But there was work to be done.

"Hup!" You heaved two fifty pound feed bags into your arms. "Hoof!" And plopped them into place with their ends hanging over your barn's nearly empty feed barrel. You'd need to refill it for the next feeder.

A quick swipe with your pocket knife would have their guts spilling out...or it Should anyway...maybe you needed your knife sharpened?

"You need to hold that at a better angle."

"SWEET MOTHER OF MERCY!" You felt yourself jump, and swivel back around.

Only to see a very familiar looking Nightlord behind you. Instead of armor he was in comfortable lounging clothes and his expression was morphing from surprise to Delight.

You let out a heavy, Heavy sigh, and let your rigid posture return to normal. saw Khopesh's shoulders shaking with barely restrained giggles.

Well at least some things have stayed the same.

"Yeah yeah, you got me, laugh it up." You abided, exasperated but not really that upset.

This seemed to break the damn and Khopesh let out one of his long loud cackles.

"BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHa Ha- Hai I wasn't- " He struggled to speak through his laughter. "Even Trying to scare you that time! And you still jumped like startled P-Pigeon! Pftthahahhahahhahah!" He doubled over bringing his face down to your height.

Okay that part was a Little funny, but you weren't gonna fold completely to his nonsense. What fun would that be?

You let a playful gruffness come into your voice. "Now you listen her you shadow skulkin miscreant!" You brought up your pocket knife for emphasis, knowing full well he was in Minimal danger from such a small blade. You continued. "I hear one more sound outta you boy and I'm taking your tongue!"

"Ooh Ho Ho?" Khopesh responded, waggling his eyebrows. "Well now Lullaby if you want it you need only Ask~"

He allowed his long tongue to fall out of his mouth in a manner that was both humerous but also salacious. The tip just barely touching that of your blade.

Your focus broke, and you found your mind going back to how it had felt on your body. Creeping heat once again took over your skin.

Khopesh's inky eyes suddenly changed, and his expression shifted.

He'd noticed your change, and he got an idea. His smile became more...amorous...michevious.

Uh-oh

"In fact," He cooed, swiping you up into a bridal carry, holding you close to his chest. He brought his head and face down, nuzzling your flustered cheek and letting his tongue drag languidly across it. "I fancy a taste of something I missed last night."

"Or should I say...something I tasted indirectly, last night~"

You swore you felt your cheeks burn hot enough to vaporize the saliva he'd Just left on your face.

But it was only partly from desire, the other was panic.

Wait it's happening again!? Oh God we can't do this here! In the middle of the barn?? Mom might see us, or worse! A client. Do I even want to do this. (Yes, Yes, YES taste me, love me, don't leave m-) But I'm still so confused.

Khopesh took note of your sudden pulse change. The arousal was still there, but also stress hormones and the rhythm was sounding a Bit too much like your panic attack for comfort.

Did...did you not Want to copulate with him again? Did he do something wrong? As far as he could tell this was very similar to your first encounter?

"...Lullaby?"

"Not here!" You blurted out suddenly. Surprising both Khopesh and yourself.

Despite his confusion, Khopesh offered a different option. "Would...you like to copulate back in the hay stall then?"

Wait you didn't have a hay sta- Oooooh. The realization dawned on you.

He was offering to bed you in the same place he had before. And honestly your panic Was tempered by the ludicrous thought of him bridal carrying you all the way across a field and two fences so you could bang in the same place you had before.

Very considerate...in a weird way. You actually laughed a bit. "No no no, I mean not Here specifically," You gestured to the floor of the barn where you were still held in his arms. "I mean we need somewhere more Private. You know...no windows or huge doors?"

Oh...oh that made sense. Khopesh felt himself relax. His Lullaby was not rejecting his courtship outright. Had they done that he'd fear he'd offended them in some way.

"Very well, what place do you feel suits those parameters?"

Ah...good question. You pondered for a moment.

"I think the Bathroom's our best bet." It was also just big enough for a single Astarte and you'd still have more room than your shower.

You felt the heat and embarassment return at the idea....but you also felt... excited! Similar to how you had yesterday. (How long will it last? How long will you be able to keep him excited?)

You pushed any trepidation from you mind. (You tried.) And focused on Khopesh's returning excitement as he carried you.

...

"Mmm! Ah Ah AH!"

"Mmmmm~"

Long, sinuous and muscular, Khopesh's tongue was eagerly exploring your damp puffy skin that was still tender from yesterday's escapades.

Between long languid moans, and brief breathy puffs, you marveled at how wonderous it felt to have that slick wriggling organ inside you.

Even if it couldn't reach as deeply as Khopesh's cock it still sent tremors of delights pulsating from your core, spidering out over your hips and wracking your entire body that was sitting spread open and bent slightly on the bathroom sink.

Khopesh smothered his face into your heat, seemingly trying to reach your deepest depths and lap up everything you had to give. His nose brushed into your clit further enhancing your pleasure.

"K- Khopesh! Khopesh!" Your voice pitched as your hands tangled in his long dark hair. You swore you felt him smile against your flesh, specifically feeling the scar on his lip move.

Yes Lullaby~ Khopesh cooed greedily in his mind. Give me Everything! Every last scream, every last moan, every last drop to show that you are Mine!

His hands gripped tight to the meat of your hips, pulling you as close as he could without causing injury. He doubled his efforts, moaning himself and pushing, swiping, devouring.

You felt your peak approaching, your already sore muscles locked up and trembling as you flexed closer to your partner. Bringing your hips even harder against him as he pushed deeper in turn.

He finally retracted his tongue, but only for a moment, as he brought his strong lips around your tight bud and sucked.

It was almost too much.

But it was Perfect all the same.

He tormented your sweet little button as you convulsed, soothing you and overstimmulating you all at once, delighting in your tremors and whimpers. 

Despite not finding his own end, he felt satisfied, seeing his darling Lullaby so wrecked by only his tongue made him swell with pride.

And as you twitched and sweat and finally felt your pulse slowing, he felt a wave of tenderness and affection come over him.

"Your taste was exquisite," He whispers bringing his hand to the side of your face as he nuzzled you. "I must leave soon, but Thank you for the wonderful meal, my Lullaby~"

That...that was so corny...but also really sweet... You nuzzled back, you enjoyed that immensely.

(What good is your enjoyment if he doesn't Love you? You have to clean this whole space now because you were a Freak! He didn't even get his turn, are you stupid-)

"Lullaby?"

You were broken from your sudden rush of post bliss clarity by Khopesh, again, looking concerned.

"You seemed distracted Lullaby...are you well?" He placed one of his large hand on your forehead...that wouldn't really help right now with how warm you still were.

"I um..." You managed to stammer a response. "I just...I wish I had the time...and the energy to help you too. You know..." You gestured vaguely, hoping he'd get the idea.

He seemed st least partially satisfied by your answer. "I am more than satisfied with this Lullaby...besides," His smile once again became smug and amorous. "You could simply return the favor later."

You didn't think you body could handle another round, even If you were given the rest of the day off. But if you refused would he be disappointed? Well he's not disappointed now but-

"How about an actual meal? On me?" The words came out before you fully grasped what you were offering.

Khopesh took a moment to process your words. "You mean...we would eat...together?"

You swallowed your anxiety. (Ha, you tried.) "It's just I don't think my body will be up for another round for a while," And your mental state probably wasn't either. "and I thought it could be nice to...share a meal together?"

You held your breath, half guessing rejection would follow.

But instead a smile spread on the Nightlord's face. "It is an excellent idea!" Khopesh clapped his hands together in delight.

You felt at least some of the weight come off your shoulders. "Great! How does Lunch sound? I need a nap but after that...we could head into town, see what looks good?"

"An excellent plan! I will vox your cellular device so you may contact me when you are ready."

Well that was convenient. "Awesome! But...how do you already know my number?"

Khopesh simply smiled, before quickly pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I look forward to sharing a meal with you, my Lullaby, enjoy your rest."

He pressed one more brief kiss to your lips, and with that he exited the bathroom.

Leaving you sitting on the sink, partially dressed and returning to normal like a zombie, while you played those kisses over in your mind.

You felt a profound mix of both warmth, and cold, as you traced your fingers over your lips.

You wanted so badly to believe the warmth would stay.

Well...there was still work to do, and no use just sitting here. You shifted off the sink.

You oblique locked up again as you moved too suddenly.

"FUCKING OUCH DAMMIT!"

[medusapelagia]

Hidden Treasure - STBB Proj 7 WIP Wednesday - Steve

This is the last promo banner for my @strangerthingsbigbang fic, featuring my pretty boy: Steve Harrington! The next time I'll be talking about this fic it will be officially posted! A huge thanks to my wonderful artists @mothellie and @ghostdeb, and my betas Manu K. and @suometar and see you during posting season!

tagging those who were interested: @katyawriteswhump @lingeringmirth @akichania @v3lv3tf0x @blog4horror

Under the cut a little snippet TW: storm, injuries, blood

The wood is wet and slippery, but Jeff is old salt, so he climbs down slowly, making sure to find a nice grip before moving a foot or a hand. He holds on to the ropes and his hands hurt from how strong his grip is, but one step at a time he is getting down to the deck, just a few feet and he will not be at the storm’s mercy anymore.  That’s when a big wave rocks the Golden Lion without mercy and he loses his grip and falls on the deck, yelling. Jeff doesn't even have the time to understand that he injured his ankle when another wave comes crashing. He has already shut his eyes, ready to be tossed into Davy Jones' locker, when someone grabs him by his belt and yanks him back.

When Jeff turns, the new boy has a rope around his chest and is holding him with all his strength. “Hold on!” Steve yells, crouching down with the other man against the ship’s rail.

They both curse while the salty water wet them till their bones, but they hold onto each other, shivering with cold and fear, until finally the sky starts to clear and the wind starts to die down. 

Someone behind them is praying, while some crew members are calling the names of their companions out loud, and in the chaos on the ship, Billy keeps yelling orders until the Golden Lion is in the clear and they find a little cove where they can drop anchor and assess the damage to the vessel and the crew. 

The ship has a few damages, they definitely need to search for a closer port to get it repaired, and they lost five members of the crew. The only reason Jeff wasn’t flung in the ocean was Steve's quick thinking, so the lad has finally gained his place in the crew. Their lookout has a sprained ankle and a few bruises but, even if he is not going back to the crowsnest soon, he is fine. Who worries the alpha is the beta man. Everytime they’re close he can smell something coming from him. It’s not exactly a scent, but it makes him uneasy, so he tries to avoid staying closer to the man as much as he can. At least until dinner, when they consume their food in the Captain’s cabin like every night and Steve sits at Billy’s side, waiting for Eddie and their ration. Billy smells the air and detects a stronger smell that he knows too well: blood. 

The alpha grabs the man’s wrist and drags him toward his bed, “Strip.” he orders, and he’s not surprised when the beta starts to protest, but the alpha’s grip is strong. “Don't fuss and strip.” He repeats.

“If you need to fuck someone to cool down the steam, Eddie’s just outside!” Steve snarls back, trying to free himself from the captain’s tight grip.

“You’re hurt. I can smell the blood.” Billy finally admits, “I just want to help you.”

“You are the one who is hurting me!” Steve protests, but for a moment Billy sees a flash of fear in the boy’s eyes so Billy assumes that he is scared that they will leave him on some desert island because he is injured. It won’t be a first, but Billy’s crew is his family and he is not the kind of pirate that would do something like that to one of his crew members.

[missmaywemeetagain]

Pink Scarf - PART 14 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

(Read more here--Pink Scarf Series Masterlist!)

Prompt: You are part of Elvis Presley's coveted inner circle, and the currently-disgruntled wife of one of the members of Elvis' famous entourage, the Memphis Mafia. After Elvis' dynamite first performance in Vegas, you find yourself in deep water when his magnetism finally gets to you after all these years.  [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: Blood. Assault in various forms. Miscarriage. Death/Mourning. Pregnancy. Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.  

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)        ||     Word Count: 7.6k

A/N: I'm so sorry in advance, y'all, cuz this one might knock you on your ass with its dramatic angst and give you whiplash after the last few chapters. Honestly, I hurt myself a bit with this one! *sob* Needless to say, the tone is a bit different here. Please make sure you read the trigger warnings for this part because there are some sensitive topics!

While I hesitated to make a part all in flashback, I couldn't seem to avoid it without creating a ridiculously giant chapter, and I also didn't want to make you wait that long, so here it is, complete with a cliffhanger!

Speaking of that, thank you for being so patient while I got this out. Life is kicking my butt a bit, and I SO appreciate you hanging in there with me!

Also, look out for some fun 1960 Elvis posts/reblogs later so you can get the full visual of his March 1960 glory, in case I haven't described it well enough LOL. I included a Rollerdome pic at the end as well.

As always, to all my babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments you've given me have been a blessing beyond expression. You all are the best community a writer could ask for! Thank you so much for your support. I am loving getting to know y'all better! I love every reaction and comment and ask, and I'm sorry if I don't get back to them all as soon as I'd like but know that I love you all and am so excited to be making new friends! And a big "Hey, Y'all!" to Elvis Twitter, who stumbled into the Pink Scarf vortex and are now with us in the chokehold of '69 Pink Scarf Era Elvis and are supporting and sharing this lil' fic over there--I see you and appreciate you! 👀💋

If you feel so moved, please let me know what you think or how you're feeling (or send me asks)! I think I put everyone on the taglist who requested it, but please let me know if there are any issues or if I missed anyone. There seem to be some issues with tagging that I can't seem to fix, so please know I'm not leaving you out intentionally! Also, if you comment on a previous part that you want to be tagged, I might not always see it, so feel free to message me if I miss you!

I imagined this with Elvis in mind, but Austin!Elvis works here, too, whatever floats your boat! 

Apologies in advance if there are any grammatical errors or TW that I didn't catch. 

(I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my long-neglected AO3 account (which some of you already discovered!), so if you are so inclined, you can check it out over there, though it's not all updated yet!)

March 1960

You shouldn’t feel nervous. It’s just Elvis. But having not seen him in person in over 18 months, or even really being able to talk on the phone, you wonder if too much time has passed, if too much has changed, if the man who went into the Army two years ago is still the friend you cherished.

You wait in front of Graceland in the icy March air with Jack and a multitude of other close friends and relations for Elvis to arrive, shivering in your heavy coat. It’s a strange limbo you all are in, this energy of the end of one thing and the start of something new and unknown. You can’t help feeling that everything is different somehow, that a new era has begun.

This feeling is compounded by the secret you are keeping. You had been wary to accept that your greatest hope is finally coming true, but after your appointment yesterday afternoon, you are finally starting to settle into the fact that new life is growing inside you. You haven’t told anyone yet, not even Jack, since Elvis’ imminent arrival has taken over everyone’s minds. While you have no need to be the center of attention, you also know that the news would get lost in Elvis’ return. No one could compete with Elvis for any sort of attention. It would be a losing battle.

Honestly, you are glad to sit with the knowledge on your own for a moment, to give yourself a minute to adjust to your new reality. And part of you is still quite scared that this could all be over in a flash. It’s still early, the doctor said, even though you were further along than you’d originally thought. But after two years of nothing, there is a piece of you that doesn’t want to get your hopes up.

Perhaps that is truly why you’re feeling nervous and it’s nothing to do with Elvis at all.

Everyone around you starts to buzz, snapping you out of your thoughts, and you look up to see the police cruiser, lights and sirens and all, coming up the long drive. When it finally pulls up in front of the house and Elvis gets out, everyone explodes with liveliness.

It takes a moment for the small crowd to clear enough for you to see him fully. When his tall frame comes completely into view, you feel like all the air has been knocked out of your body. You have to stop yourself from gasping out loud.

He looks beyond incredible. So incredible, in fact, that your heart is suddenly fluttering in your chest like a schoolgirl’s. You have seen him in his uniform before, of course, but the last time, he was so miserable after the death of his mother that the uniform seemed like a prison, an unforgiving punishment almost. Of course, you’d also seen pictures for publicity and ones he sent home which would occasionally show him in his uniform. He always was handsome, to be sure, but now…now, something was different.

You try to put your finger on it because it really has thrown you for a loop. You aren’t some fawning, adoring fan, for god’s sake. But you cannot help but openly stare at the man in front of you. He positively glows. His blue eyes sparkle with the happiness of being home, but it’s not only that. Taking off his cap and tucking it under his arm, he surveys the small crowd and his home with joy. The blue of his dress uniform brings out the reddish-blonde of his natural hair color and the blush on his cheeks. His hair is long again on top, grown out and curled up and mussed from his hat. Compared to the Army buzz cut, it is more reminiscent of his signature coiffed 50’s style, but somehow more mature yet rebellious at the same time. It suits him very well, you think, highlighting high cheekbones, long face, and his now quite chiseled jaw.

Elvis’ whole face is lit up with happiness, that signature grin white and wide, as friends and family gather around him. You can’t help but feel warm and fuzzy to see that smile again in person. When you finally catch his eye, you feel like the whole world stops. It’s ridiculous really, the way your heart throbs in your ears, but you swear his face changes almost imperceptibly when he sees you. You’re not exactly sure how, but it softens somehow, imbued with just a little more warmth than he’s already exuding. His eyes travel over you only briefly before Jack reaches out to embrace him, but in that short moment, you suddenly feel self-conscious.

Once his eyes leave you, you let out a deep breath that you didn’t know you’d been holding. You look down, clasping your hands in front of you, but when you look up again, Elvis is looking at you from over Jack’s shoulder. You are absolutely caught in his blue-eyed gaze.

Stop being stupid, it’s just Elvis.

Perhaps your sudden intimidation by your dear friend is that he left Graceland a boy but has returned a man. Even though he’s thin, it’s in a leaner, more carved, more refined way than before. He still retains a bit of his baby face, but his countenance is different, settled, more worldly.

After exchanging words with Jack that you are too overcome to hear, Elvis steps around him and comes towards you, his attentions focused completely on you.

“Hey there, y/n darlin’,” he says gently, his voice still heavily accented, high and bright.

“Welcome home, Elvis,” you say. It barely sounds like you, you think, too quiet and soft and breathless. You ring your hands nervously.

He begins to open his arms and you know he means to embrace you, and all of a sudden, you are certain you are going to faint. It’s as if you know that if he touches you, right here and now, looking as he does and with the way his essence is radiating around you, something will be irrevocably changed. Your heart flutters and your breath rate increases, and you almost panic as he closes the gap, those eyes of his looking at you in such a way that you feel completely, utterly exposed. You want to run away, but you are frozen to the spot.

Just as he steps up to you, he’s attacked from the side by his young cousin. The moment between you is thankfully interrupted, and you instantly step back and behind Jack as the boy wrestles Elvis.

“Jesus, kid, a little warning next time!” he shouts playfully, putting the kid in a headlock and rubbing his knuckle into his head. He catches your eye for a fraction of a second, his face somewhere between regret and chagrin at not being able to hug you. You manage a small smile, but practically hide behind Jack, grabbing his hand as you warily look on.

The horde gratefully moves inside, out of the cold late winter chill. The look that flashes over Elvis’ face as he crosses the threshold is one of trepidation, grief. You realize being home must come with mixed emotions; after all, the last time he was here was when his dear mama passed, and this was the home he’d gotten for her.

You’re not sure that anyone else catches how his breath hitches and how those pretty eyes become anxious. In that moment, you forget all about the strange reaction you had to him not a minute ago and you ache to go to him, to pull him into your arms and tell him it’ll all be okay.

It seems like both forever and just yesterday that he wept in your arms on the stairs, bereft and inconsolable, as his mother lay in the other room in her casket. He had refused to leave her, petting her, and talking their baby talk to her for so long that they had finally placed glass over her to dissuade him. Even then, he had sat vigil by her side and as you all looked on in collective grief, as the concern for him and his deteriorating state was palpable. Almost no one was able to get him away for longer than a few minutes—first it was the Colonel near shoving him and Vernon out the door and into the arms of the vultures with the cameras outside. Then, Sam Phillips was able to console him for a bit. Jack and the boys and Anita all tried to pull him away, but they were only swept up by him to go see Gladys, and his tearful ramblings continued about how beautiful she looked and her tiny little “sooties,” and then his wailing and sobbing would commence once again.

His mama had always been more than kind to you, and you cried for her loss, but it was truly Elvis’ grief that had the tears rolling down your cheeks. But you hadn’t wanted to overstep your bounds. However, he’d stopped eating and drinking, and looked positively exhausted, eyes rimmed with dark circles. Eventually, you could stand it no more.

“Elvis, honey, I need you…” you’d said, putting your hand on his shoulder gently. He’d looked up at you sharply, eyes so bloodshot and filled with tears that the blue of his irises seemed unnaturally bright, his innocence and grief leeching out of them. You faltered then at the state of him, stumbling over your words, wanting to be as kind as possible. You cleared your throat, continuing, “I need you to come with me, sweetie.”

And somehow, against all odds, he listened to you, of all people. Wordlessly, he’d stood, drawing you tightly to him, his arm gripping your waist and his tall frame leaning on you for support, nearly knocking you over. You’d stumbled with him to the stairs, and he’d just collapsed into you, his head buried into your neck, clinging to you as if drowning in his grief and you were his life preserver. His heart wrenching sobs had silent tears flowing down your own cheeks, and you’d held him, petting him, cooing at him, your protective gaze shooing the onlookers away.

Eventually, after some time, he quieted. You could feel the heat of his head through the now-soaked top of your dress. “Oh, E, you’re burning up,” you’d said, feeling his face with your hands. He’d worked himself into such a state that his body was rebelling against him, and you’d whispered to someone nearby to call the doctor.

At that point, he’d had little fight left in him, and Jack and Sam had helped get him up to bed once the doctor had come. But he’d still clung to you, not letting you leave him once in his ornate, darkened cave of a bedroom. Elvis wouldn’t settle or let the doctor administer the much-needed sedative until you were in the huge bed with him and he was curled in your lap. You had looked to Jack wide-eyed for some sort of support, part of you feeling a little scandalized by being invited into Elvis’ bed, but none of the men knew what to do, and you were the only one so far that had been able to get him away from Gladys. You just got harried looks of bewilderment from everyone, and the doctor had just nodded to you, as if giving you permission to climb up in with him, doctor’s orders. Anything to calm Elvis down.

So you had, your heart breaking for him, confused as to why it was you who he needed, not Anita or Vernon or Jack. Regardless of how strange it was, you were his friend, and you’d do anything to help, no matter your own comfort. You’d stayed with him through the night, back leaning up against the headboard awkwardly, staying even after the sedative took hold because when you’d tried to leave, he’d still clung to you, heavy and feverish.

For hours you’d held vigil over him, hand rubbing soothing circles on his back, eventually drifting in and out of sleep, though any movement from him had you startling awake. And when you woke in the morning, stiff as hell, and Elvis blinked up at you with those huge, grieving puppy dog eyes, the pang in your heart was evident and confusing.

After those few horrid days, you never spoke of it again. You never asked him why it was you who’d been able to reach him through his grief, and beyond a whispered “thank you” in your ear before he left for Germany, he never mentioned it again. Not that you’d seen him for him to do so. Maybe that is why you are nervous, you think, because the last time you saw him, he was so utterly lost, and for whatever reason, you had been a lifeline in one of his worst moments. And that feels significant somehow, though you aren’t sure exactly how.

That look you see in his eyes now reminds you too much of that look from 18 months ago. But there are a bunch of family and friends between the two of you, crowded in the entryway, bustling with excitement, all seemingly oblivious to Elvis’ distress.

It angers you a bit, the way they all clamor over him without truly seeing him. You stand as rooted as he is, as if your being able to move is tied to him somehow. He looks at you then, sensing your gaze or your thoughts in that almost preternatural way of his, and you see the overwhelm in his eyes. The way the endless blue of them seems clouded over with pain and grief. The way they almost beg you to save him.

This, out of everything, gets you in motion, stepping towards him in the crowded space, but there are so many damn people that you can’t get to him. By the time you sidestep cousins and friends, you’ve watched as his face changes, a mask slipping over those handsome features so seamlessly that it takes you aback. You stop short, amazed at the way he now smiles and laughs at the antics around him, as if nothing happened.

You realize he must’ve had to do this to survive over there. There was no way he could show that kind of vulnerability during tank maneuvers or whatever they had him doing. He’s protecting himself, you think.

But it still rubs you the wrong way. The ease with which he switched emotions was disconcerting to you. Somewhat bitterly, you think that he certainly didn’t need your help through his pain this time.

Oh, stop, you chide yourself. He’s been home all of five minutes and first you wanted to run away from him and now you’re mad his grief isn’t crippling him? What’s wrong with you?

“Okay, okay, y’all, I need to go get changed! The press is gonna be here any minute,” Elvis chuckles and waves you all off, climbing the stairs. His eyes catch yours in the briefest of moments and you swear there is something unsaid in them. And then he’s gone, up into his room.

A shiver passes over you, your stomach flipping, and then a wave of nausea comes.

Jack sees you and comes over with concern in his eyes, cupping your cheek. “You alright, treasure? You look a little green in the gills,” he says.

“I…uh…my stomach is upset, sweetie. Excuse me,” you say quickly, the bile rising, and you make quickly for the bathroom down the hall. Once safely locked away, you rush to the toilet, sick. Luckily, once out, the queasiness passes quickly.

The doctor said this could happen, you think, looking at the reflection of your red face in the mirror. You rinse your mouth out and splash your face with cold water. It certainly has nothing to do with Elvis. That would be absurd.

It’s just the look in his eyes is haunting you and you don’t understand why. Maybe it’s just your hormones being in overdrive. Yes, that makes sense. You are on edge and not seeing things clearly. Or maybe too clearly.

After a multitude of deep breaths, you straighten your dress and hair, then head back out into the fray. You find yourself in an empty house. You wander about to find that most everyone has gone back outside to witness Elvis’ triumphant return to Graceland as procured by the press.

They have arrived, littering the snow-dusted lawn and taking photographs and recordings of Elvis as he sits in front of a huge guitar shaped cake. You peek over someone’s shoulder and your jaw nearly drops at the sight. Clad now in all black, his wool coat is appropriate for the chill, but his black shirt is open halfway down his torso, a large gold medallion resting on his bare chest. If he’d looked like the All-American boy getting out of that car not 30 minutes ago, now he looks like the perfect combination of sweet and sinful.

Oh, dear lord.

His chestnut hair is perfectly imperfect, a rogue lock falling over his forehead. You think perhaps he’s added a little shadow and mascara to his eyes, or maybe he’s just exhausted from the long journey home, but whichever it is, the slight darkness on his lids gives him a stunningly beautiful look, his blue eyes popping and dancing with a combination of mischievousness, aloofness, and candor. Somehow, he has retained the youthful swell of his cheeks while also now having a jawline that could cut glass.

As you watch Elvis pick at the cake, deftly putting pieces of it in his mouth with his fingers, the innocent gesture seems almost obscene and that lightheaded feeling comes over you again, this time with a swell of warmth.

You want to look away, you really do, but you’ve forgotten your friend’s natural charm, how his essence pulls even the most unwilling into his orbit. His beauty is one thing, but the feeling that surrounds him is another thing all together. It’s not just you caught in the pull, however. Friends and family gather around, too, though they are likely not experiencing the same type of reaction as you.

Oh, this is utterly ridiculous, you think. Elvis has always been pretty and alluring. Get ahold of yourself.

You think it must be the pregnancy hormones, the way your body flushes from head to toe just watching him eat his cake and play to the camera. You force yourself not to follow as they direct Elvis towards Vernon’s office for the press conference, his tall frame gliding across the lawn in the most confident and nonchalant of ways. He commands his audience as though he’d never left, born to be at the forefront of everything. Focused on the cameras, he does not see you, or so you think, until he catches you staring and quirks his brow.

This finally prompts you to move, turning away quickly and heading back into the warmth of the house. You are glad for the cold, as it gives a reason for your cheeks to be as red as they are, and it douses your heated body with a much-needed chill.

You are embarrassed by your behavior. Elvis is not some idol to be gawked at, not by you. Perhaps it is because you feel so removed from him in his absence, or it is the unasked questions that linger in your mind from before he’d left, but your nerves buzz annoyingly.

You manage to avoid him after the press conference, as he’s utterly exhausted from his trip back home and all it had entailed and sends everyone on their way with the promise of a party the next evening.

Later, lying in bed, you wonder what in the hell came over you. It’s got to be the nerves and excitement about the life growing inside you colliding with the trepidation of your friend’s return all at once. You also know that pregnant women have a multitude of strange physical symptoms, especially in the early days, which would explain nearly everything.

That must be it. It’s not about Elvis at all. It’s your body telling you that you are pregnant.

Finally.

The thought sends a flutter of a different kind through your chest. It’s one of excitement and hope and a little fear. You place your hands on your belly, imbued with a sense of motherly responsibility. You drift to sleep thinking of holding your child in your arms.

*

The party the next night has Graceland lit up in a way it hasn’t been in years. An air of celebration surrounds the place, chasing away any of the leftover morbidity from Gladys’ passing. You hold Jack’s hand tightly as you enter the mansion, that strange anxiousness from yesterday threatening to ruin your night.

Maybe you should have told Jack about the baby before you came, but no moment seemed quite right. Telling him before work would have distracted him and telling him before the party still seemed to be stepping on the toes of Elvis’ return. Tomorrow, I’ll tell him for sure tomorrow, you think pointedly.

The warm air of the house nearly overwhelms you, and the two of you strip your heavy coats and head towards the sound of Elvis’ boisterous laughter. Your dress is fitted only at the waist and not over the belly, which you are glad for, even though you are hardly showing yet.

You manage to find a seat in the corner with Jack far enough from Elvis that you can breathe, as the fact that he still looks incredible has not changed in the last 24 hours. Why you are so completely stuck on his shocking handsomeness and consumed by whatever prowess he is exuding, you still do not quite know, but it continues to affect you and keep you wary. Shaking off your unhelpful thoughts, you busy yourself talking with Anita, Pat, and the other girls as the men joke and play. After a while, this finally settles your nerves, but you are very conscious of not letting yourself get too close to Elvis as the night goes on, as if being too near will disrupt the tenuous equilibrium you are trying to maintain.

Later in the evening, you excuse yourself and head to the restroom. You can’t help but look in the mirror, rubbing your belly even though it’s impossible to tell yet. This puts a smile on your face, your sweet little secret. And this is how you exit, smiling, stepping into the dimly lit hallway.

“Hey, darlin’.”

“Shit!” you gasp, jumping out of your skin at Elvis leaning casually against the wall across from you. Your heart gallops against your ribcage, one hand flying to your heart and the other to your belly in a protective gesture. “Elvis, you scared the hell out of me!”

“Sorry, y/n,” he says, pushing off the wall, eyes remorseful but watching you carefully.

You find yourself barely able to look at him with him being this close. You will your heart to slow, will yourself to act normal, but it’s like you can’t. You can’t quite meet his eyes, you can’t quite breathe and escape is all you can think of. You awkwardly gesture to the bathroom, thinking that it’s why he’s lurking in the hallway, and then you step away from him without another word.

“Hey, now,” he says from behind you, perturbed, “You wait just a damn minute.”

Elvis’ long fingers circle around your wrist, grabbing you, and it feels like fire. Startled, you turn back and look down at how he holds you firm. You hardly have a moment to process that he’s touching you before he’s pulling you into a room across the hallway. Yelping, you have no choice but to follow—he’s much stronger than you—and he holds fast as flips on the lamp and then shuts the door behind the two of you. He releases you, then folds his arms over his chest with a scowl.

“Elvis…” you start, confused and shocked and trying to process whatever is going on.

“Did I make you mad or do something to offend you?” he interrupts, his voice laced with hurt. Those intense blue eyes of his lock you in place, betraying his churning emotions.

“What? No, what are you—?” you sputter out, faltering under his gaze and needing to look away.

“That! That right there. You can’t even hardly look at me!” he points, voice raising angrily. “You barely said three words to me since I been home!” He steps towards you and instinctually you step back, a hand flying to your belly, as the intensity of being this close to him has you completely overwhelmed.  

His eyes widen. “Look at you, you can’t even be in the same room as me without skittering away like a little bird. I thought I was imaginin’ it for a minute.” Elvis pauses, looking you over. “Are you afraid of me?” he asks quietly, the hurt palpable in both his body and voice.

Your heart aches at the sight of him like, forcing you to relax and be more mindful of your actions. “No, of course I’m not afraid of you, Elvis,” you breathe. You aren’t, truly.

“Then what did I do?” he asks with such childlike innocence, such hurt, that your heart breaks for causing it.

“Nothing, E, you didn’t do anything, I swear,” you insist, going to him, unable to bear the look on his cherubic face. You force yourself to get close, pushing through your silly fears.

“Why ya bein’ so strange then, baby?” Elvis asks, eyes scanning your face. This close, you realize you could fall and drown in their oceanic blue intensity.

How can you answer that? You certainly cannot say, “Yes, Elvis, I’m being strange because you came back too handsome and your charming presence overwhelms me, and I don’t know where I stand with you, and oh, by the way, I’m pregnant.”

Your brain scrambles for an answer as the tension between the two of you increases to a level that has you sweating, and you blink up at him, flustered. “I…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be like that…I guess I am afraid that you’re different, or that things have changed too much while you were gone, or that it’s been too long and that you might not, I don’t know, you might not see me as your friend anymore?” you prattle on, the honesty in your words surprising you. The idea and the truth of it brings tears to your eyes.

His beautiful face softens, his mouth popping open as emotions flash over his features so quickly that you cannot grasp them completely. You feel utterly caught up in him, the loss of control and your feelings frightening you.

“Never,” Elvis whispers finally, “Never in a million years could that happen, baby.” The way he looks down at you is charged, confusing, intense.

Your heart flips. A rogue tear slips down your cheek. Stupid hormones.

You are close enough now that you can feel the energy of him pulsate around you. It makes your breath catch when he brushes the tear off your cheeks with the backs of his fingers. You’re not sure if you can bear him touching you more than that because it sends a shockwave through your body.

“So, you missed me?” he asks, a sideways grin beginning to widen on his face.

“’Course I missed you, you idiot,” you sniffle.

“Some way of showin’ it,” he jokes now, breaking some of the tension.

“Well, I’ve had some things on my mind,” you say pointedly. “Life didn’t stop just cuz you were in Germany, ya know.”

You don’t realize that your arm has been wrapped over your belly all this time. Elvis narrows his eyes at you, steps back, and then looks you over very deliberately. Self-conscious and confused under the scrutiny, you blush.

“What?” you ask nervously. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

A huge smile spreads over his features and his eyes light up. “Congratulations, doll,” he grins at you.

He knows. Elvis, of all people, knows your secret after spending less than five minutes with you.

You are shocked enough that you don’t try to deny it. “I…How…?” you stutter out.

“You bein’ so skittish and protective, and the way you been holdin’ yourself this whole time is different. Explains that real pretty glow about ya, too,” he says, booping your nose playfully.

You blush harder. “Elvis, I just found out. No one knows yet, not even Jack, so don’t you dare go saying anything yet. It’s still real early,” you say in a warning tone.

Elvis nods, practically bouncing with excitement.

“Seriously, E, not a freakin’ word, promise me!” you say. He is a terrible secret keeper.

“Okay, okay, I promise!” he grins.

“Lord, with the way you’re buzzing, you’d think I was having your baby!” you laugh.

Something changes in his eyes, but it’s gone so quick that you can’t put your finger on it. He does still a bit, though, and you look at him quizzically. He doesn’t say anything and just looks at you openly. The air has shifted once again.

“Well, we should probably get back out there. Everybody must be missing the man of the hour,” you say, clearing your throat and turning to leave.

Before you can go far, Elvis’ fingers dance over yours, reaching, as if wanting to hold your hand and pull you back but hesitating as if he shouldn’t. Your breath catches, an odd feeling blooming in your chest, like you are falling. You look back and down, seeing and feeling his fingers graze yours in such a strangely much-too-intimate way. He doesn’t stop, fingers brushing and winding through yours. You can’t help the way yours start to move around his in the now heavy silence. Your eyes raise to meet his, heart racing.

“Y/n, I—” he starts to say, voice low and gaze intense.

“EP!! Where the hell you at, man?” Red shouts from the hallway, startling you both, causing you to drop your hands as though they were suddenly on fire. As if you were caught doing something you shouldn’t.

Elvis visibly shakes himself off and crosses in front of you to open the door. It opens a crack and then he stops, turning back to you quickly, mouth open as if he wants to finish what he was trying to say. He must think better of it, though, because he just shakes his head again and sucks in his cheeks before heading out the door without another word.

You pause, frozen to the spot, as your heart thunders in your ears. Befuddled, you try and process the last few minutes, try to piece out what the hell just happened. Your hand splays on your belly, your face hot and your body warm.

You were right, you think, a lot has changed. Everything and nothing, all at once.

*

After that, things move quickly. With Elvis’ new knowledge, you tell Jack immediately about the baby, pulling him aside at the party. He is thrilled.

A few blissful weeks pass. You’ve been feeling okay physically, just some nausea and lightheadedness, but your nerves are still a bit on edge. The strange moment between you and Elvis the night of the party lingers in your mind, just under the surface, and every time you see him, that odd falling feeling comes over you for a moment. It doesn’t help that when he sees you, something in him changes. It’s so subtle that you doubt anyone notices; in fact, you think you could be imagining it if not for the charged, unreadable look in his eyes. But to you he seems overly attentive to your every move, protective even.

You try and chalk this weird intuition and the way your body feels up to the pregnancy. Your body is changing a little each day, and maybe this is just a part of it.

Elvis has been enjoying his few weeks at home before everything starts up for him again, and consequently, so have all of you, finding yourselves pulled back into his orbit easily. He’s travelling down to Miami soon to be on Frank Sinatra’s show and then he starts filming his next movie in April. You have mixed feelings about this, dreading him leaving so soon again, but you also think perhaps it is a good thing to be away from him considering the tricks your mind seems to be playing on you.

Tonight, he rents out the Rainbow Rollerdome for an evening of what he dubs the “Roller Skating Wars.” You, of course, will not be skating in your condition, but that certainly doesn’t stop you from putting on a cute polka dotted dress and going to observe the chaos you know will ensue.

Jack, unfortunately, stays home, struck suddenly in the afternoon with a sore throat and fever. You tell him you will stay home and take care of him, but he brushes you off and tells you he’s just going to be sleeping anyway, that you should go and have fun. He practically pushes you out the door.

When you arrive at the Rollerdome, you quickly find the girls and plant yourself in one of the big booths with a coke, some popcorn, and some candy. Your cravings for sweets have been intense this last week, and you pick delightfully at the confections as you watch everyone skate around.

Elvis has a silly grin plastered on his face as he wheels up to your table, his hair so long and fluffy on top that it bounces with him, product keeping it standing nearly straight up. On anyone else, it would look absolutely ridiculous, but with Elvis being Elvis, it just seems to highlight how incredibly handsome he’s become. Honestly, he nearly takes your breath away in his dark polo with the popped collar, his eyes electric and dancing, his face long and jaw chiseled.

At least you know that you aren’t the only one noticing the change in his looks, because the other girls seem to blush and smile more as he looms over you all, the skates putting him nearly six and a half feet tall.

“Ladies, everybody got their skates?” he drawls charmingly.

Everyone giggles and there’s a chorus of “Yes, Elvis!” as they show off their skates. For a moment, you are a bit upset that you can’t skate, but that is quickly banished by the excitement of the life growing inside you.

“Well, go on then!” he motions, and the ladies scurry, happy to be summoned.

After they clamor out of the booth, Elvis looks at you more seriously.

“No skating for you tonight, right?” he asks protectively, cobalt eyes narrowing.

Your heart does that falling thing for a moment before you respond. “Nope, feet planted firmly on the ground, thank you very much!” you smile.

He nods, pleased by this. “Where’s Jack? I haven’t seen him,” he asks, looking around.

“Oh, he’s at home, sick. Booted me out of there. I think he was annoyed at me hovering, to be honest,” you chuckle.

“You gonna be okay over here? I don’t want you to be by yourself,” Elvis says, concerned.

“Oh, I’ll come and watch you all here in a minute. My back’s bothering me a bit, so I’m fine to sit for a spell.”

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks again, brow furrowing, as if sensing something about you that you couldn’t sense yourself.

“Yes, E, I’m fine. Don’t you worry about me. Now, shoo, and go have some fun, but for god’s sake don’t go killin’ yourself or anyone else out there!” you laugh.

Elvis looks at you in that unreadable way of his for a moment, then a wide grin spreads across his face. “No promises!” he shouts as he skates away.

You let out a breath after he leaves. His presence is still overwhelming to you, no matter how much you try to logic it away, so for now you are just accepting it. Such is living a life with Elvis in it.

Your back really is starting to bother you, which you attribute to the obvious, and after a few minutes alone, you realize you would rather be around people than not. You get up from the booth, then a wave of dizziness overtakes you and you grab the edge of the table for support as you blink away the spots in your eyes.

You wonder for a moment if you might be coming down with whatever Jack has, but your throat is fine. After a moment, the wave mostly passes, so you make your way to the skating rink to watch the group from the sidelines. There are a few people on the sidelines, and you have fun making small talk and watching the antics in the rink. After a bit, most of the girls come back out as Elvis and the boys are getting pretty rough, and part of you is a little glad Jack isn’t here to get injured.

You ignore the ache in your back (it’s just something you’ll have to get used to, after all) and another wave of lightheadedness hits you as you all head back to the table. You are starting to feel distracted, your stomach churning now a bit, too, and you remind yourself that being pregnant isn’t necessarily a picnic. You feel a bit claustrophobic now, shoved in the booth with the other ladies, and excuse yourself to the restroom, thinking it might be time to go home.

Something’s wrong, you think, a feeling of dread coming over you. Forcing yourself to breathe, you remind yourself again and again that you are just pregnant and these are symptoms of that. You pause at the water fountain to drink, hoping the water might settle your stomach.

As you are bent over, someone zips behind you on skates, then suddenly you feel a hand groping your backside.

Yelping, you choke on the water and jump, turning around.

“Hey there, pretty girl,” a man you don’t recognize leers at you, way too close for comfort.

“Excuse me,” you say haughtily, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest, making your lightheadedness even worse. “I think you have me confused with someone else.”

“Naw, you’re the prettiest girl in here. Why ya all by your lonesome?” he purrs at you, the sound setting off every warning bell in your body, adrenaline clashing with your dizziness and churning stomach. He leans down, as if to try and kiss you and you push him back.

“Leave me alone!” you say, your voice raising in both volume and pitch. You try to sidestep him, but he grabs you hard and presses you into the wall. You think you might vomit all over him.

“Don’t be like that! All I want is a little kiss,” he says, one wandering hand groping your chest as his lips come at you.

“Don’t touch me! Stop it!” you shriek, trying to squirm out of his grasp as his disgusting mouth roams over your face and neck. Your body betrays you, though, your back throbbing, weakness overcoming your limbs, and you can’t fight him off. You curse the fact that the bathrooms are so far back from the rest of the group, and you pray that someone hears you.

“Get off of me!” you try to scream, but he’s trying to silence you with his hand. Panic overtakes you now as you realize this man is going to hurt you, but in your current state, you are unable to fight.

“What the fuck are you doin’?!” You hear the low growl before the horrible man boxing you in is yanked backwards and sideways, his eyes bulging in surprise. You gasp as you watch Elvis collide with the man, his momentum from how fast he must have been skating sending the man flying.

The man stumbles and rolls, flailing and falling, and Elvis looks like you’ve never seen him before as he spins around. His eyes are dark and lethal, his jaw clenching and unclenching as his chest heaves with his breath. He looks terrifying, his focus singular, and you are almost afraid for the man. Almost.

“I asked you a fucking question,” Elvis growls again, pulling the dazed man upright by his shirt. “What the fuck were you doin’ to her?!” he yells, pulling back his arm and then socking the man in the jaw so hard you can hear the crack. The man is stunned for a moment, blood beginning to seep from the corner of his mouth, but he recovers, taking a swing at Elvis.

It barely grazes him and doesn’t even phase Elvis, who seems possessed. “Don’t you ever fuckin’ touch her!” Elvis shouts, then punches the man in the face again, hard, sending him flying.

Things are happening so fast, you can barely process it. You can hardly breathe, the waves of dizziness pouring over you, making it hard to focus.

Elvis goes for the man again, and suddenly you are fearful he might kill him because he seems so blacked out with rage. Elvis hits him again and the man falls to the floor in a heap, bloody and bruised.

“Elvis, Elvis, stop!” you try to call out, but your voice is too quiet, wavering, and he is too far gone. You need to stop him before he does something he cannot take back, and you know something is wrong with you because you can’t get your body to move the way you need it to.

It’s then that a sharp, searing pain burns in your abdomen, and a primal scream bursts from your lungs. A shockwave of agony rolls through you, knocking the breath from your body. It’s so sudden and all-encompassing that you see red, and you clutch at your belly, your head spinning, fearing the worst.

The baby.

Your cry finally snaps Elvis back to reality because he’s with you in a flash, fear and concern flashing over his features, replacing the fury that was there mere seconds ago.

“Y/n! Y/n, what is it? Did he hurt you?” he gasps, looking you over as tears stream down your cheeks.

You can’t catch your breath, and your heart is beating too fast. Then, you feel hot liquid spread from your belly downwards, life spilling out of you, running down your legs. You feel sick as you look down, Elvis’ gaze following your own. That’s when you see the dark red begin to stain your dress and your stockings.

It’s over, it’s over, the baby, oh god, runs through your head, a dismal chant in your mind. You look at Elvis with resigned horror, but you are feeling so lightheaded, you can barely focus on anything. Even the pain starts to wane and feel distant. You know this isn’t normal, even for a miscarriage. Something is terribly wrong.

“No, no, no, no, no,” you hear him beg, his hands on your face, your shoulders, his eyes wild with terror now. “We need help over here!” he bellows, never taking his eyes off you.

They are so beautiful, those crystalline eyes, those dark lashes, you think absently as you begin to slump over.

You are somewhat aware of his strong arms catching you as he slides down with you to the floor. They feel so warm and comforting, you think. You blink up at him, your vision starting to dim.

“Y/n, no, don’t you dare, you stay w-w-with me, b-baby,” Elvis says in a panic, shaking you, pulling you into his lap. A sharp metallic smell permeates the air. “Somebody c-call a damn ambulance!” you hear him shout. You can hear the terror in his voice, in his stutter, and you wonder why he’s so scared. You’ve never heard him this scared.

“Elvis?” you whisper. You try to keep your eyes open, but it’s so hard.

“Yeah, b-b-baby?” his voice shudders. You can feel his chest heaving as he presses you into him, rocking you, tucking your head under his. He always has to be moving, his energy always vibrating around him.

“I feel so strange…” you say, and you do. You’re aware of the pain but it feels so far away. Everything feels far away except for the heat of Elvis, which feels like a blanket around you. With the warmth pouring out of you, you start to feel cold.

“I-I-I know, baby. Come on, you stay awake, now,” he says in your ear as your eyes start to close. He shakes you again. You force them to flutter open. You think whatever is happening must be really bad if he’s so scared.

“Tell Jack I…I love him,” you breathe quietly, just in case.

“You tell him yourself, damnit,” Elvis chokes out, pulling you in closer.

“Thanks for…being…my friend…so good to me,” you say, but it’s not enough. You can’t seem to get the right words out, your mouth filling with cotton. You bring your shaking fingers up to his cheek, your face is buried in his neck, his smell surrounding you. He smells so nice. He feels so good wrapped around you. You’re not nervous to be near him anymore, all of that seems so silly now. Your hand drifts and you feel his full lips under your fingertips. They really are as soft as they look.

You can’t keep your eyes open anymore and blackness starts to swallow you, your hand falling onto his chest, but you feel unusually calm.

“No, no, no! Oh, God, don’t—please don’t go. I-I love you, y/n, please, I love y…” Elvis whispers pleadingly in your ear.

His quiet, startling confession fades away and is the last thing you hear before the world goes completely dark and silent.

*

Elvis at the Rainbow Rollerdome, March 19th, 1960

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[kpopjust4u]

February Filth Fest - Day 3

Post Date: 3rd February 2023 Pairing: Mingi x GN!Reader Content: Smut - Uniform WC: 504 TW?: Dom!Mingi/ Sub!Reader/ Mingi calls reader ‘Bunny’/ Jealous!Mingi/ Power Play/ Teasing/ Biting/ Ass slapping/ Slight oral fixation

February Filth Fest Masterlist                         Prompt list

"You've been so naughty, bunny," Mingi, your chief officer husband growls deeply in your ear, holding your hands behind your back, pulling you right up against him as his warm breath brushes against your neck.

This makes your breath hitch, arousal surging through you, and feeling as though your heart is going to breathe through your chest with how fast and hard it's pounding.

"So naughty, looks like I'm going to have to cuff you," He continues, bending you over the tabletop in the kitchen and reaching for the cuffs on his duty belt.

Though there's no space between you, he's right up against you, his boner confined by his work trousers pressing hard against your ass as he plays a little rough, grabbing your wrists harshly to cuff you up.

"That's what you get for flirting with my friends, you're so naughty. You need to be taught a lesson," His deep growls make you shiver, just not knowing what he has planned up his sleeve is more than enough to make you weak in the knees.

"I- I- Didn't-" You try to defend yourself but a harsh slap across your ass, being held against the table, still bent over shuts you up real quick.

"You don't have to say anything. Anything you say will be held against you in the bedroom," He quips, leaning over you to nip at your ear first, then your neck, making whimper at the initial stinging pain.

Doing as he ordered, you decide it's best to keep your mouth shut. No matter how badly you wanted to argue with him.

"Knees, now," Following his instructions, you do exactly what he orders, and with the help of him guiding you, you're now on your knees, in front of him, facing him.

All you can do is look up at him with pleading eyes, hoping he can tell you're asking for forgiveness. Since you weren't allowed to speak, you're stuck to know what you're supposed to do to get out of this, coming to terms with your punishment.

"That's a good bunny, listening to my orders. Keep this up and you'll be forgiven," He smirks, looking down at you, making you feel small.

This would intimidate another person but you? You're so horny for him, finding this to be hotter than you'd originally expect, just wanting to let him do whatever he wants with you.

Kneeling down, he grabs your face, palm under your face with his thumb and index finger on either side of your chin, "Open up".

So you do.

With your mouth open, tongue sticking out just as you know how he likes, your doe eyes are in full swing.

Sticking his thumb into your mouth, you instantly close your mouth around it and start sucking, without any other questions asked.

"Good bunny," He coos deeply, pulling his thumb out with a 'pop', attaching his lips to yours for a passionate kiss as he guides you to your feet, "Now I think you deserve a little pleasure".

~

Tags: @scuzmunkie, @ateezreactionsandscenarios, @whatudowhennooneseesyou​, @trashlord-007, @fanfictrashlord-007​, @icyllic​​​, @atinytinaa​​,  @toxicccred​, @cherryxsang​​, @sanjoongie​, @k-drizzle​

[justmeinatree]

04 - Made Of Something New : Mexico

Summary : you meet niall in your hotel bar. and there’s an intense connection.

previous part /// jump to pt. 1

TW : smut, period sex, choking, cheating (not on you, but none the less)

Word Count : 7k

Series Masterlist

GIF : @horansqueen

August 21 - Mexico City, Mexico

“decided what you’re getting ?” your coworker asks as you look over your menu one last time. you’re seated in a small cafe in mexico city with 3 of your coworkers, using up your 2 hour break to grab some lunch.

“yeah, think i’m settled,” you smile as the waitress rounds the corner, taking everyone’s order. 

you zone out a bit as the others start talking about a game on tv last night. you take in the small patio you were currently sitting at, vines growing through the trellis above your head. it created a thankful relief from the sun as your entire time here had been blessed with above normal temperatures. and it was august. which mean very hot in the middle of mexico city. 

you were thankful that your work wasn’t too hellbent on what the marketing team wore, claiming that individuality and being comfortable in your skin made better sales people. as long as it stayed professional, of course. so you were in flowy cotton pants with a tanktop tucked in, your blouse tucked into your bag during your break. 

as the waitress brings your drinks, you nod a polite “thank you,” taking a big sip and unlocking your phone. yeah, you probably should have been mingling with your coworkers, but it was your break and you really didn’t care about their conversation. so you checked out completely, scrolling through your instagram.

you flick through a few of your friends stories before noticing a story from niall’s private account. you’d been checking regularly since your agreement’s been made 9 weeks ago. 

niall’s been on tour throughout the summer, but as luck would have it, he’s coming nowhere near your hometown. and so far you’ve travelled twice for work, none of them coinciding with his whereabouts.

you bite your lip, thumb hovering over his story for a moment before checking it. it still feels a bit odd. like you’re checking up on him. he told you that he posts a story with his location to his private account, every time he goes somewhere new. something that he’s always done for his mam. thinks it’s only fair that his mother always knows where her son is. it’s endearing really.

but well, now you have this privilege as well. so that you and niall have the opportunity to sneak off into your own little bubble. the weight of the meaning behind this doesn’t go unnoticed to you. he doesn’t do it to update his girlfriend, he does it to update his mother and you. gives you shivers just thinking about what that means.

and your breath catches in your throat when the location tag on niall’s story reads “mexico”. just that. the country. he could be anywhere. and judging by the photo, he’s not in a city. he’s somewhere remote, not seemingly many people around. and he’s so tanned. your breath picks up just looking at him.

dont get too excited, gotta find out where he even is, you think to yourself, replying to the story. 

“hey niall, see you’re posting a very helpful location tag lol. i’m in mexico city ! -xx”

you close your phone then, as the food arrives, enjoying all the flavours of this culture. one huge perk of travelling for work, in your opinion. you never shied away from going to the authentic restaurants, having a taste of whatever the waiter recommended. it was almost always, absolutely delicious.

however, your mind races as you eat. this is the first time you’re reaching out to niall. the first time your plan is effectively put into motion. 

you’re honestly a bit scared, this agreement you two made is heavily reliant on you. you’re the one that keeps up with him, and you’re the one that reaches out when locations coincide. what if he doesn’t want to see you ? what if he feels pressured to see you ? you both woke up this morning thinking this would be a normal day. and with one click over to his story, all of a sudden, it’s not.

you chance looking at your phone again when everyone’s just waiting for the bill, two instagram notification making a small smile spread across your lips.

“petal, hi. it’s so nice to hear from you again ! i’m not too far out of the city, super small town that i come to whenever i want to get away. a taxi can take you here ! -nh”

“that is, if you want. sorry, i got really excited. totally understand if you dont want to get into a taxi and drive off into the middle of nowhere. i can always come to you. -nh”

you smile wide at your phone, not a care in the world who notices. you read over the part about him being excited and all of your previous worries wash away. biting into your bottom lip, you write out a reply.

“i can come to you, like the idea of sneaking off into the middle of nowhere mexico. love me a good dose of danger.”

“truthfully though, i think it would be nice to get out of the city. i have one more work presentation, then i can head back to my hotel and get ready. send me an address. -xx”

you pay for your food, walking back to the company’s offices, seeing niall’s reply with an address and a “can’t fuckin wait to see you my beautiful girl” which makes your heart flip. 

you copy the address into maps, seeing where exactly this is, and it’s a good 45 mins far outside of the city. you know you’ll be getting there too late for dinner, so you make a quick mental note to grab a little snack for the taxi ride.

the rest of your day goes by fairly uneventfully. you spend 3 hours leading a marketing meeting with nothing other than the looming events that you know will take place later swirling around your brain. you head back to your hotel as soon as the meeting’s over, having a shower and getting dressed into another pair of flowy cotton pants and tanktop. it kept you cool and in this heat, you needed all the help you could get.

your hair is thrown up into a messy bun, strands left loose framing your face. you make up a small bag of things you may need, toothbrush, spare clothes, etc. and you silently thank all the gods for making today your final work day. your flight tomorrow doesn’t leave until late afternoon, giving you plenty of time.

you buy yourself a snack from the vending machine on your way out, getting a taxi and opening up your instagram. you give the man the address and quickly type out a message to niall.

“leaving my hotel now. i’ll text you when i get closer. if you never hear back from me, send a search party lol -xx.”

you get a reply from niall almost instantly, 

“i’d send the biggest search party mexico’s ever fuckin seen. see you soon sweet girl x -nh.”

you smile to yourself, that warm fuzzy feeling that niall brings into your life, finally making a comeback after 9 weeks. you couldn’t wait to see him, feel him again.

most of the car ride is quiet, the radio in the front playing too faintly for you to really make out what’s playing. you spend a lot of the time admiring the scenery as you get further and further out of town. the sun is practically setting, which makes it all the more beautiful.

you pull into the small town niall’s in just around sunset, the air still warm from the day, sky turned bright pink, orange and hints of purple.

“i’m in town, i’ll be there in a few minutes -xx”

as the driver drives up in front of the address niall had given you, you notice a small house, gate wrapping around the property with grape vines growing through. and just as the driver puts the car in park, niall comes waltzing through the gate, smiling wide as he sees you in the back window.

niall taps on the passenger window, the driver rolling down the window, niall waving at him, thanking him for driving you so far out, and handing him a neat little stack of money. “for your troubles, buenos noches.”

he turns to your door, opening it for you and taking your hand to help you step out. “didn’t have to do that, i was gonna pay him,” you hum, feeling a bit bad, and hoping he doesn’t think you expect him to pay for anything.

“hello niall, so nice to see you, i missed you tons,” he mocks jokingly, a small smirk pulling at his lips.

“hello niall, it’s so nice to see you, i missed you more than i could ever fuckin explain,” you smile back at him, feeling niall’s hands settle on your hips, pulling you into him.

your arms go to wrap around his neck as you freeze momentarily, hearing a family walk down the street, headed for town.

niall notices your hesitation, and he realizes why, pulling you even closer, his arms wrapped tighter around your waist, “s’okay petal, dont have to worry about anything over here. s’why i love this place so much.”

“so i can do this ?” you ask, arms wrapping around his neck, getting up on your tip toes to slot your lips with his.

the kiss is heated, pulling a groan from deep inside niall’s chest, his hands slipping from the small of your back to squeeze into your hips, feeling the twitch in his cock as your both pressed so close together.

his hands glide down over the swell of your ass, down to the back of your thighs, picking you up. instinctively, you wrap your legs around him, his arms coming around your back again to support you. 

niall nibbles into your bottom lip as he starts to twirl in the middle of the empty street, making you giggle. “fuck, i missed you,” you feel niall humming against your lips, wrapping your arms tighter around his neck, giving him a soft kiss.

you knew what he was feeling. it literally pains you both to say goodbye, like something deep inside is pulling you to him and you need to resist it and walk away. but the moment you’re back together, that emptiness in the pit of your stomach, in the pit of your heart, goes away. 

niall puts you down, feet firmly planted into the ground, “wanna take a little walk ?” he asks, “grab some dessert ?”

“that sounds absolutely amazing,” you hum, as niall’s arm wraps around your waist, pulling you against him as he slowly starts leading you down the street. “been craving sweets all day, dessert will be perfect.”

he laughs at that, squeezing you tighter to him and kissing the top of your head. “you’re in for a real treat, then. there’s this place, 20 minute walk from here. i go there every time i’m here, they make the best food !” he explains animatedly, the look of excitement almost comparable to that of a toddler with ice cream. “it’s just an old couple that owns it, they cook everything themselves ! their kids and grandkids run everything else, such a sweet family.”

you smile, watching him, taking in all of his emotions, the tan on his skin, how relaxed he seems compared to the other times you’ve seen him. “i can’t wait to see it ! you make it sound like you come here often.”

“three to four times a year,” he nods. “s’my favourite place. it’s such a secluded little town, they dont really know who i am. i’m just niall here, the random but really friendly irish lad that visits from time to time,” he chuckles, adding, “no one really comes here. unless it’s the local’s family members or friends.”

“how did you end up here then ?” you ask, hoping not to sound pushy, just genuinely curious and intrigued at this little glimmer into his life. his real life. it’s nice to know him like this, it’s not just an electrifying, down to the core, connection, and really amazing sex. it’s more personal, and it makes it seem so much more real. even just seeing this calm, giddy version of niall makes your heart throb in your chest. you love knowing these things, and you want to learn more, much more. but it also makes you crave what you can’t have.

niall shrugs, thinking back on it, “s’kinda stupid really. i was in mexico city, years ago, and had some time off. so i rented a car and drove off just to see what was out there. i pull up on this town, hungry as hell, so i stopped at the little cafe. fell in love with the food and the people, and thank god too, because after my meal, the car wouldn’t start ! had to stay the night until the mechanic in town could track down the parts. started coming back regularly after that. the house you pulled up to is mine actually. there’s no hotel here or anything, figured i needed a place to stay. this is sort of my get away. no one knows i have that house. everyone knows i love visiting mexico, but they dont know that i come here. s’my little secret.”

you were already walking up to the town, if you could call it that. it was the one cafe, a school, a repair shop, and a store. niall was holding the door open for you as you’re still grasping what he’s just opened up about. are you really the first person that knows about this place ? 

and well, you dont really have a moment to dwell on that, as a lady in her 40s approaches you both, “niall ! we always knew you’d find yourself a nice lady ! welcome dear, so nice of you to come visit our little town.” 

she throws herself at you in a big hug, as you look over at niall, making him mouth, “please go with it.”

“oh, where are my manners,” the lady smiles, pulling away from the bear hug she had wrapped you in. “my name is rosa,” she turns her head towards the back of the small space, screaming out, “mama ! get out here mama ! papa ! niall’s brought a lady !” rosa turns completely to storm off into the kitchen to fetch her family.

you look over at niall with wide eyes, his face broken out into a large shit eating grin, as he shrugs, “sorry, they’re really excitable when new people visit their town. and they’ve been buggin me about finding a girlfriend and all that. i keep this life totally separate. they don’t know about -“ he cuts himself off, looking at you with worry, and is that sadness ? in his eyes.

niall knows that you know what the situation at hand is, but he still feels guilty. and oddly enough, he feels more guilt for you than anyone else. and that worries him to no end, but he can’t think too hard about that now. he’s never consciously mentioned her to you, he’s not sure at all how you’re about to react. 

“niall,” you hum quietly, taking his hand in yours. “i know what i signed up for.” stab. niall felt that right in his heart. what you signed up for. he’s a giant prick. but he wants to be selfish with you. wants to let himself have this one. he doesn’t want to consider any of the alternatives. 

“you dont have to stress it, s’just comfort, and friends, and sex, yeah ?” you smile, not meaning a single word you’ve just said. you know you’re developing feelings for him. you’re not naive enough to deny yourself that truth. but you have to keep it zipped away from everyone, especially niall. if this secret gets out to anyone, every bit of your relationship with niall is gone forever.

niall doesn’t have a chance to respond, as the entire jimenez family trots out of the kitchen in pure excitement, chatting with you and niall, introducing themselves and explaining a bit about their town and their restaurant. eventually, you both take a seat on the little patio outside, the last peaks of light illuminating the sky, and an intricate pattern of fairy lights hanging above, brighten up the space.

you let niall order for you, excited to see what he thinks you’ll like, but also to share something that he’s so passionately excited about. the food was fantastic, the place and the people made it somehow even better.

as you step back out into the street, niall’s arms wrap around your waist, pulling you to him, “thank you for being here. thank you for coming, i should say. before i met you, this felt like my only safe space. and now, i honestly feel like you’re a safe space too. i dont know what it is, like a feeling deep in my bones that tells me everything is good with you. drop all the walls,” he chuckles. “let yourself be. just like i can here. and it’s a crazy feeling having both the safe spaces together.”

you take a deep breath at his confession, feeling your heart grip itself like a vice. you’re swallowing down the frog in your throat, needing to stay composed for him. you were feeling extra emotional today, not sure why. maybe just being with niall brings it out of you.

“i’m glad i can be a safe space for you niall,” you smile, his face inching towards yours. “i love that you can come to me. i love that you can feel comfortable enough to bring me here.” you were going to keep going, but niall’s lips cut you off. slotting with yours as a low moan leaves his throat. 

your kisses always feel so good. what is so different about you ? a kiss is a kiss, no ? lips and tongue. but kissing you, felt like nothing niall’s ever felt before. he can’t explain it, can’t put his finger on the feeling. it’s warm. it’s fuzzy. it makes his heart ache. but it’s not a bad ache. it gives him butterflies. but he’s not nervous. excited. excited butterflies. happy butterflies.

“c’mon,” niall murmurs against your lips. “lets go back before i give this poor old mexican family a real good show.”

you giggle, a slight blush creeping up on your cheeks, cuddling up into his side as he leads you back to his house. he asks you how you’ve been, what you’ve been up to, if you’d been travelling for work, genuinely curious about what’s happening in your life.

listening to you talk about your small town back home, the life he never really knew you lived, gave him so much perspective and understanding. he needs to stop seeing you as this almost mystical fairy like creature put on this planet to make him feel comfortable, to give him the escape he so desperately craves.

but the more you tell him, the more he’s so glad he’s moved away from that image and can now put a story to you. a human trait. you really are a completely normal, beautiful, caring, kind person. and it absolutely fucks with his head and emotions even more.

niall leads you through the gate, following a little path through a large garden that makes up the front yard. as you both walk inside, you take in the quaint little cottagey feel to the place. it’s small, a living room, kitchen, and what you assume is a bedroom and bathroom down the hall. 

the knowledge of this being his getaway space has your mind reeling as you look around. the living room consists of a couch, covered in throw pillows, all in different shades of muted colour. some brunt oranges and dark teals, mustard yellows and deep purples. you cant wait for the opportunity to sink into it.

in the corner of the room, niall has an old style record player table, the far wall filled floor to ceiling with vinyls. much of which look quite used if the wear and tear on the sleeves is anything to go by. there’s a small tv in the other corner, bunny ear antennas on top of it. 

“what do ya think ?” niall smiles at you, a bit of a smirk on his lips, catching your roaming eyes.

“i love it, so cozy. and homey,” you murmur, smiling at him.

“c’mon, i’ll show you the rest,” he nods down the hall, leading you to the bedroom, with an ensuite bathroom. you figure if he always comes here alone, he doesn’t need much space.

the bedroom is a reflection of the living room, more muted colours on the bed, some plants in the large window. niall points towards the door on the opposite side of the room, “the bathroom’s through there. i hope you don’t mind the tight space, never ever have visitors.”

“i dont mind at all, i love it here, honestly. you’ve really made this a perfect little getaway place,” you smile, walking up to him, getting on your tiptoes, arms wrapping around his neck to kiss him.

niall responds right away, hands landing on your hips, leading you backwards towards the bed. 

you momentarily pull away from the kiss, “sorry, can i just use the washroom real quick ? really gotta pee,” you giggle shyly. the worst moment to ask, but you hadn’t used a washroom since you left your hotel. and you definitely wouldn’t mind a little freshing up after that long cab ride.

“‘course you can,” niall pats your bum, “i’ll be waiting for ya.”

you step into the bathroom, noticing a fairly large walk-in shower, with a small sink and toilet off to the side. you set your bag by the counter, making your way to the toilet to have a quick pee, and “fuck,” you mutter. your period.

well niall isn’t the reason your emotions are on high today, and it surely explains the sweets cravings. but now what ? what are you supposed to tell niall ? you know what he’s expecting next. it feels like it’s part of the deal, comfort and good sex.

you reach for your bag, getting yourself organized and freshening up for a moment at the sink. taking a big breath to calm your nerves, you step out of the bathroom, to notice niall sitting in the middle of the bed, back against the wall, flicking through his phone.

he smiles, hearing you step out of the bathroom, his eyes filling with concern when he looks you over. niall can sense that something in you has changed. you seem nervous, scared, and a little awkward. those are not feelings he ever wants to see etched on your face.

“what’s wrong, petal ? are you alright ?” he asks quietly, shuffling to the edge of the bed, reaching for your hand to pull you forward between his legs.

you chuckle, shaking your head, “can’t believe i have to tell you this. fuck, it’s so embarrassing. if i knew this was gonna happen, i probably wouldn’t have reached out in the first place.” you watch his eyebrows furrow in confusion before mumbling out “i started my period.”

niall’s face floods with relief, shaking his head, “that’s all ? christ, you had me worried something was really wrong. thought something happened and you wanted to leave.”

“no, no,” you rush out. you dont want to leave at all, you were worried he wouldn’t want you to stay the night if it meant no sex. “i dont want to leave. it just kind of ruins our next plans.”

“doesn’t have to,” niall smirks up at you, his hands rubbing over your hips as you’re standing between his knees. “can always lay some towels down. or we could skip the mess and go right in the shower,” he offers.

you groan slightly, biting your lip. you’d honestly never had period sex before. but you were so so horny, you were thinking about caving in. but you’d also just started your period, and in all honestly you felt kinda gross.

niall notes the hesitation in your expression, watching your brain reeling. “dont have to, petal,” you coos soothingly, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles. “honestly, i would not for a second be upset if we just cuddle and listen to music or something. that would actually be amazing, cozy night in.”

“you have no idea how horny my period makes me,” you chuckle, a strong blush taking over your cheeks over the embarrassment of admitting that fact about yourself. “but i also feel kinda gross right now, and i’m just really not sure which option i’d prefer. cuddles and music sounds amazing. fuck, i dont know.”

niall stands straight up, tugging your hand towards the washroom you just exited from, “c’mon then. you feel gross, all the more reason for a shower. we don’t have to do anything you dont want to, really. lets just stand in the water, i’ll scrub you nice and clean. even massage your back and shoulders.”

his willingness to help has you smiling wide as you look over at him, “you’re really something else. not many people have ever actively tried to make me feel better during this time of month.”

niall pulls you into him, arms wrapped around your body as he leaves a series of pecks over your lips and jaw, “you’ve been around the wrong people then love.”

truth is, niall feels bad. he needs to start showing you that you’re not just some sex toy to him. you’re everything. everything he’s never known how much he really needed. he needs to appreciate you more, christ he cannot lose you now. not after having such a small glimpse of what you can truly do for him. right now, he’d give you the fucking moon, if you asked.

“why so good to me ?” you murmur, looking up at him.

he leans his head down, nose brushing against yours, “because you’ve been so good to me. and i’ve been dying for an opportunity to do the same for you. wanna make you feel just as good as you make me feel.”

you bite your lip, eyes fluttering shut as your forehead rests against his. niall’s hand comes up to cup your jaw, thumb tugging your bottom lip from your teeth, lips pressing to yours in a sweet kiss.

as he pulls away, he turns to start the shower, keeping his back to you as he strips and steps into the water, “do whatever you need, i wont look.”

your heart bursts a tiny bit more at how considerate he is. he knows it’s a bit awkward for you. hell, it’s only the third time you guys are even together. he’ll give you this bit of privacy, not wanting you to feel any ounce of discomfort.

you step into the shower behind him, letting the water wash away anything you didn’t want niall’s eyes to see. your hands run up his back to his shoulders, giving them a squeeze, “thank you. you’re good to turn around.”

he slowly turns to face you, smiling brightly, eyes on yours as he reaches to cup your jaw with his left hand, right hand falling on your hips. “you’re so fuckin beautiful,” he coos, pulling you into him, lips slotting with yours. 

your arms reach up to wrap around niall’s neck, getting on your tiptoes to reach properly. his arms wind themselves around your waist, holding you to him as he groans against your mouth, pulling away breathlessly. he rests his forehead on yours, “let me take care of you, dont wanna get distracted.”

you blush, nodding, getting back down flat on your feet, one hand gliding down to cup niall’s jaw, pulling him in for another quick kiss.

he groans again, playfully frustrated with you, biting your lip to pull on it, letting it snap back into place. “stop it,” he grumbles teasingly. “promised to wash you, give you a massage. then we can do whatever you want.”

you pout playfully, making him step right up to you again, left hand cupping your jaw, his thumb pressed up under your chin to make you look up him. he ghosts his lips against yours, “you wont regret it, i’ll make it really good for you.”

as he pulls away, his thumb slowly drags its way down from your chin to the base of your neck, before he reaches for a bottle of soap and a loofah.

you groan to yourself silently, your body on absolute fire. you were so horny and fuck, he has no idea what kind of effect he has on you.

niall fluffs up the soap under the running water, turning to you with a bright smile. “c’mon, where shall i start.”

you laugh, putting your arm up, letting him rub the soapy loofah over your hand, all the way around your arm, up to your shoulder. he rubs small circles into your collarbone, across the top of your chest to your other shoulder and down your arm. 

he swipes the loofah back up your arm, settling on your chest and stomach, watching your nipples pebble under the foaminess of the soap. and fuck, he’s dying to lick them. 

niall hooks the string of the loofah on his wrist, cupping his hands to pick up some water and letting it fall over your chest, the soap dripping down to your feet. his tongue is immediately on your nipple, licking over it in languid strokes, switching over to the other side, sucking it into his mouth.

you moan, your knees feeling weak, hands reaching out behind you to find the wall, as your body leans against it. it all happened so fast, your brain takes a moment to register what’s happening. but, fuck, it felt good. and you were so incredibly horny. the entire day felt like a tease, just waiting to see him.

“sorry pet, got distracted,” niall chuckles, pulling away from you, hands settling on your hips, making you turn around to face the wall.

he plants your hands onto the cool surface on either side of your head, grabbing the loofah again and dropping down into a crouching position, your bum right in his face.

he playfully nibbles into the swell of your bum, making you squeal as you jolt, both of you laughing, before niall gets back to work. he nudges your legs apart, rubbing soap over them, paying close attention to your ass, before standing up and soaping your back.

he drops the loofah to the ground, using the soap on your back to make his hands glide as he starts working over your muscles.

niall starts with your shoulders, thumbs working into your neck and shoulder blades. he takes his time, loosening all of the knots, your shoulders visibly relaxing.

his hands keep working down your body, focusing on the small of your back, waist, and hips. it felt amazing having him work at your muscles like this. and it was turning you on to end, on top of it.

niall was getting a rise out of this too. feeling your skin in his hands has always been electrifying. but having this opportunity to really explore you, really focus on feeling you, it was almost magical to him.

plus, he loves watching your body. he’s always thought you were so beautiful. but now, watching your skin pull and ripple under his touch. the little hums and sighs leaving your parted lips. the way you’ve completely relaxed. the way your body moves, almost as if it’s chasing him, every time he touches you.

most of the soap is gone now, the water having almost completely washed it away. niall’s hands settle themselves on your hips, bringing his forehead down to your shoulder, leaving a series of small pecks against your skin.

“wanna kiss on you now a little bit. s’that okay ?” he asks quietly, not wanting to ruin the comfortable silence.

“mhmm,” you hum, nodding. your eyes are closed, body heavily reliant on the wall in front of you. you’re not sure anyone’s ever made you feel as good as niall can. 

he uses his hands, gently on your hips, to turn you around, making you lean back against the wall, tilting your chin up to look at him, as he leans down to slot his lips with yours.

niall was savouring this, taking his time with you. he’s never had a moment to really cherish you, and he’s revelling in it. 

you hum, your hands roaming from his chest to his stomach, hips, and back again. the fluttering feeling of his lips trailing over your neck, shoulders and chest had you in shambles. you were so relaxed, feeling so good, every ounce of grossness completely washed away.

you have no idea how long niall spends kissing you, you’re so lost in the moment. the soothing feeling of the water drip drip dripping over your skin. the relaxing feeling of niall’s hands massaging into your hips. the calming feeling of his lips ghosting over every inch of you he can reach.

you were so zoned out of it, you dont notice the moment your hips roll towards him. almost like a silent plea.

but niall does notice, his lips settling on your neck, sucking a soft bruise, his cock achingly hard from all the light teasing touches.

his prick nudges between your legs, humming quietly against your skin, “can i just- can i please ? fuck, i need feel you so bad, sweet girl, please.”

you find yourself nodding, hips pressing more against him, unable to hold off anymore. your body completely electrified by all the touches.

niall’s hand slips down to your thigh, hooking it over his hip, the other hand between your bodies to line himself up with your entrance. his jaw goes completely slack, eyes screwed shut, forehead pressed against yours, as his cock settles itself deep inside you.

“fuckin christ, so tight pup,” he groans breathily, his body shuddering. he was sadly mistaken in thinking that choking you would be the tightest squeeze he’d ever feel. “so fuckin wet like this,” he murmurs, lips ghosting against yours.

hearing that makes your body go rigid for a moment, suddenly very conscious of the fact that you’re on your period, and that’s absolutely why you’re so wet. probably wetter than you’ve ever been. 

“dont be nervous, petal,” he whispers into your skin, his breath making you shudder. “s’just me. you’re not giving me my red wings, dont worry about it.”

you giggle quietly, leaning your cheek against the top of his head in a silent thank you. thank you for being understanding. thank you for not making you say it out loud. thank you for being so comforting. thank you for being him.

niall rolls his hips into yours, your head leaning back into the wall as you moan, “fuck, it’s so good.”

he keeps a slower pace, not wanting to overwhelm you. his hands roaming your body, massaging any bit her can reach, his lips still trailing kisses over your chest, shoulders, neck, and jaw.

your body was trembling, so oversensitive from the overflow of hormones coursing through your body. for a moment, you wonder why you’ve never given into the temptation of sex during your period. 

but you really cant focus on that too long, niall’s cock driving into the spongey spot inside you, your eyes rolling back. a loud moan escapes you, your cunt clamping down on his member for a moment.

“fuck, puppy, m’not gonna last long,” he groans against your ear, nipping at the shell. “feel so fuckin good, such a good girl for me.”

“niall,” you whimper, feeling so much pressure buildup in your body. “need to cum, niall please.”

you feel niall’s fingers make their way to your swollen clit, rubbing rhythmic circles, your legs starting to shake, as your moans get louder and louder.

“c’mon pup, cum for me,” he moans, holding back his own high. he needs to feel you first, needs to make you fall apart for him. 

his other hand slithers up to your throat, not bothering to ask anymore, his fingers gripping tightly, making you cum instantly.

your body gives out as your orgasm rips through you, knees buckling, niall’s weight pressing you to the wall, the only thing holding you up. 

niall thinks he blacks out for a moment, your cunt clamping down on his cock harder than he’s ever felt. his head is swimming as his ribbons of cum shoot their way inside you, as he gasps for air.

you breathe deeply, trying to catch your breath, a few silent tears rolling down your cheeks from the intensity of it all. your hormones surely aiding the emotional side to you at the moment.

niall’s arms worm their way around your waist, holding your body against his tightly, the only thing keeping you up. with his forehead against yours, he murmurs mindlessly, “you’re the absolute best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

a few more silent tears cascade over your skin, niall taking notice, kissing each one away. “please tell me those are happy tears,” he whispers against your cheek.

you giggle, nodding your head, “the happiest.” you truly dont remember ever feeling this good. 

niall’s nose gently flicks over yours, his lips slotting with yours in a quick kiss, before slowly pulling out of you.

you watch him step into the stream of the shower, swiping away any remnants of your arousal on his prick. watching some of the water turn red as it makes its way down the drain, you hum quietly, “really doesn’t bother you ?”

he looks over his shoulder at you, eyebrow quirked, “should it ? s’just a bit of blood. couldn’t care less,” he explains, turning back forwards, towards the water.

you smile, joining him in the water to clean yourself up as well, “you’re something else.”

“so are you,” he smiles back, kissing your shoulder, before shutting the water off, stepping out and handing you a towel.

you make sure to dry off quickly, not wanting to stain the towel, niall heading off into the room to give you some privacy.

as you step out into the room, he hands you one of his tshirts, “here. if you want to wear this to bed ? probably feel cozier than your clothes from earlier.”

you smile, slipping his shirt on, the hem coming down mid-thigh on you. the smell of niall envelops you, your eyes fluttering closed momentarily. the feeling of being wrapped in him constantly is slightly overwhelming. in the best way.

he leads you over to the bed, getting cozy with you, asking a question he’s had on his mind for the last couple of hours. “earlier, you said that if you knew you were gonna start your period, you wouldn’t have even gotten in touch. why’s that ?”

“wasn’t sure you’d want to see me if we couldn’t get to the sex part,” you shrug, admitting honestly. “not sure you know this, but not many guys are jumping at the opportunity for period sex.”

you can feel him shaking his head against yours, as you’re currently using his chest as a pillow. “i just want to see you,” niall answers honestly. “s’not about anything specific other than you.”

you hum, smiling at his answer, cuddling more into him as your eyes grow heavy. niall’s fingers carding through your hair, the steady bomp bomp bomp of his heart, the rhythmic up and down and up and down of his chest, all lulling you to sleep beautifully.

you slowly wake to niall crawling onto the bed, rubbing over your shoulder, “petal, s’starting to get a bit late. want you to be able to eat before it’s time to go.”

you blink your eyes open, smiling as you see him, your eyebrows furrowing when you notice what’s around him. he’s brought a dinner tray with two plates, each of them having a stack of blueberry pancakes, some bacon and eggs on the side. a bowl with a large variety of cut up fruit, a coffee and an iced coffee, along with two glasses of orange juice.

“hope this is okay,” he hums, a bit nervously. “i put some pain meds right there incase you needed. also, remembered last time saying you couldn’t believe the room service menu didn’t have iced coffee. so i hope that one’s okay.”

“niall,” you murmur, smiling at him, pulling yourself up carefully, into a sitting position, a little taken aback by how this visit has been. “i dont think anyone’s ever taken care of me the way you have.”

you lean over to kiss him, your hand tangling in the hair at the back of his neck, adding quietly,  “honestly, i feel like this time, you were my safe space. i really understand it now.” 

the more you think about it, the more you realize how important you’ve both become to each other. fuck, maybe you were supposed to be sitting in that bar, in vancouver, all those months ago. 

you lock eyes with him, needing him to feel the emotion, the power, the intensity, behind what you say, “and, i want you to know that i’m not going to be the one to ever stop this agreement. it’s going to have to come from you. because now that i really know how this feels, i never want to take it away from you.”

Part 5

……

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[lovesickval3ntine]

WRITING BS

SOOO I finally finished this damn thing, Im working on getting it on my ao3 (but tags r so fucking UHGG) so I'm gonna post it here! tw for saw stuff ofc, also title recs r welcome! cuz I suck at titles.

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The odor of blood and decay suffocates Adam as it radiates throughout the pitch-black bathroom.

Zep's lifeless body lies a few feet in front of him, his body bloated and discolored, he vaguely feels maggots squirm on his ankle, eating away at the dying flesh around the raw welts but he can't bring himself to care. 

Adam shivers as he leans against the cold pipe of the bathroom, the bullet wound on his shoulder burns as it rubs against the fabric of his shirt, causing him to groan and squeeze his eyes shut in pain. 

In his feverish daze, he wonders if Lawrence will return for him.

He promised, Lawrence promised, he wouldn't lie to him. 

Would he?

Adam stares at his hands in front of him as he flickers in and out of consciousness, they shake violently.

Adam feels his hunger deep in his bones, leaving him aching and weak. He lets his head fall into his weak hands, furiously shaking as he begins to hear an all too familiar voice. 

"I wouldn't lie to you” a familiar voice whispers harshly against his ear. Despite the words being said, the voice makes every muscle in Adam tense in fear.

"You're not real, shut up!" Adam grits out between clenched teeth, his voice dry and strained as it echoes throughout the empty bathroom, his fingers itch for a cigarette now more than ever.

“It doesn't matter now, does it? You're dying Adam” The doctor's calm voice says, devoid of any emotion.

As Adam attempts to hold back the tears that threaten to fall, he clamps his hands over his ears roughly to muffle the echoing whispers of Lawrence.

It doesn't help, his voice sounds just as close and clear as it did before. 

Tears start to fall off Adam's sunken cheeks and sharp jaw as he finally breaks out in sobs, strained apologies, and confessions are whispered frantically. 

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry” Adam cries as his wails echo around the bathroom, “I want to live, please let me live, please come back” he whispers as his grip around his ears tightens.

Adam passes out with his head in between his arms for what has to be hours before he jumps up, woken up to bloodcurdling screams echoing all around him, his skull vibrates from the volume as he recognizes Zep's screams, the screams he caused.

But Zep was dead.

Wasn't he?

Adam slowly opens his eyes (when did he close them?) and looks a few feet in front of him where Zep’s corpse is supposed to be, he can smell the decaying flesh and the metallic blood covering them but Zep's body is gone, even in the dark bathroom he can tell that Zep’s body is gone.

Adam strains his eyes to make out the details in the darkness, he frantically looks around as things come into focus, Zep had to be in the bathroom with him. 

He remembers the feeling of warm blood splattering onto him, covering him in the sticky red substance. He remembers when Zepp’s skull cracked under him as his adrenaline-filled body smashed, smashed, smashed away Zep’s only chance at life. 

Adam looked around the bathroom as best as he could when he noticed a glint of metal in the bathtub, and sure enough, Zep's rotting corpse lay at the bottom of the bathtub with his gun lying in his left hand and his tape on top of his chest. Adam reaches his arm towards Zep's gun and just as his fingers whisper over the handle of the pistol Zep's rotting arm reaches up and grabs the small of his wrist with bruising strength. 

“There are rules” Zep’s corpse whispers as he yanks Adam by the wrist roughly, making him hiss. 

“you should be dead,” the corpse whispers calmly, “You wanted to die” Zep digs his blood-covered fingernails deep into Adam’s wrist, Adam winces and uses the rest of his strength to rip his wrist out of Zep's hold and sink back into the corner, laying his head against the chilled pipe behind him.

Zep continues to whisper nonsense Adam can't quite make out through the pounding of his head, bright hot pain shocks him as it runs through his body in a wave.

Adam shivers and tries to hold down the bile that attempts to work its way up his throat, if he keeps losing fluids he knows he won't be able to stay conscious much longer. Adam screws his eyes shut in an attempt to catch to stop the violent hallucinations and flashbacks.

Adam shakes as he claws at his ears, the desperate screams of Lawrence and Zep echo throughout the bathroom, shaking him to his core. His tears roll off his cheeks freely as he shakes from the force of his sobs, blood drips down the sides of his jaw, mixing with the tears and dried blood on his face.

Despite the blood and tears running down his face and hands, he continues the painful grip around his ears, despite how it doesn't dampen the cries and shrieks that echo around him.

Adam pukes, bile and stomach acid splatter across the floor beside him, far too exhausted to move from his spot. Adam gags as the putrid smell reaches his nose and reminds him of all the decay around him.

Adam is the cause of it, he is the cause of all the decay and death that surrounds him, the decay that suffocates him and makes it next to impossible to breathe. 

Adam finally releases his tight grip around his ears and wraps them around his stomach, which is oh-so empty, and squeezes at his sides slightly. 

He knew he was most likely going to die alone, a nobody, someone who would rot in his apartment till his body started to decompose, rotting and melting until someone complained about the smell or something. Even in death, he would be a bothersome nobody.

Adam didn't want to die alone, he truly didn't want to die at all, he just wanted something to change. He got his wish in the end though, didn't he?

He lets out a choked sob and curls into himself more, his game was rigged from the start, he was destined to fail from the moment he drained that damn bathtub, and who knows, he might be dead right now and this is all a part of some post-death hallucination.

What Adam would give to see the light beyond the bathroom door, know he wasn't forgotten,  know Lawrence will return to him. 

He knows that he won't live long despite the running water in the tub, water won’t calm the burning infection running through him, or the hunger that pains him deep down in his bones.

Adam claws at his sides as he trembles, the pain providing some sort of clarity in his hazy thoughts so he can catch his breath, which is harder than it should be, every breath is shallow and wet as he tries to even it out. Adam doesn't want to die here, he wants to go back to his shithole apartment make sure the cat that wanders outside of it is ok and fed, call his mom back, and apologize for not answering her calls.

The first couple of days he was locked in the bathroom he screamed and wailed for what seemed like hours on end before he eventually passed out in exhaustion, once he woke up the cycle repeated until the hallucinations started.

Once he started hearing Lawrence and Zep whispering into his ear, he would wake up screaming and flailing around before the pain in his shoulder or leg knocked him out of his panic. 

He can't even remember the last time he slept without waking up screaming because of a nightmare or a hallucination, hell sometimes it was a combination of both, this combination made sure he never got much rest.

Adam is used to being sleep deprived, hell half the time he would only get a few hours a night, developing the number of photos he takes is time consuming, to say the least.

But the exhaustion he is feeling is like none other he has felt before, it takes so much energy to do something as simple as breathing, he would do anything to sleep interrupted. 

As Adam's eyes droop he is shaken awake by a piercing noise, the sound of metal grinding against the floor vibrates him to his bones.

The door, Lawrence must have kept his promise. Adam almost cries as the dull yellow light from outside the door shines in and illuminates the blood and decay that is splattered all over the bathroom.

A small figure walks in, their boots clicking against the ground as they walk closer to Adam, the shadowy figure sits on the edge of the bathtub and stares down at him. Now that Adam can see them better he can see their spiky, unkept hair.

“I have a question for you Adam,” The strained feminine voice echoes throughout the bathroom, it sounds like they have been crying, “do you appreciate your life?” they ask, voice wavering.

Adam coughs wetly as he tries to find his voice, it seems so long since he last spoke. He opens his mouth before snapping it shut quickly, trying to find the right words for what he wants to say.

“I-I think in the past I didn't,” he pauses and catches his breath before speaking again, only this time much softer “but now a-all I want to do is get home and get better, move on with my life and stop being afraid of every damn thing,” he says angrily with tears building in his eyes.

Adam grips his stained shirt tightly in his fists as he stares at the mysterious figure, his fever riddled brain isn't thinking straight as he reaches out with a kind hand and places it on her knee, hell she could been the one that brought him into this hellhole but the pain in her eyes is too similar to what he sees every day in the mirror.

The girl freezes and looks down at him with soft eyes, “Don't worry Adam, I'm going to help you get out of here” she whispers with glossy eyes as she places her delicate hand on top of his, rubbing her thumb across his boney knuckles comfortingly.

“P-please” he pleads as his grip on her tightens, “don't leave me just yet?” he asks as his voice breaks and tears start to fall from his eyes. 

The woman simply nods and sinks off the bathtub and onto the bloodied cold floor to sit next to Adam. He looks at her with tired eyes as she brushes his sweaty hair out of his face and holds his jaw lightly

“You're real right?” he whimpers out pitifully, leaning into the woman's touch.

“Yea Adam, I'm real, I promise” she giggles wetly before pulling him in for a hug, careful of his injuries.

Adam leans into the warm hug and wraps his arms around her waist gently, it's been so long since he last had a hug. His body shakes as he sobs into her neck, and his tears fall onto her shirt but neither of them cares, they stay like this for a while until the woman breaks apart the hug, she wipes his tears with her thumb before grabbing a water bottle behind her (when did that get there?) and handing it to him, urging him to drink some.

Adam grabs the plastic water bottle with a tight grip and chugs it quickly before handing it back to her, he wipes his mouth as he watches her stand up.

“I have to go now Adam, hang in there, I promise help is coming,” she says confidently before walking towards the metal door, her combat boots clicking against the tile as she walks away from Adam. Once she gets outside of the door she waves awkwardly before shoving the door shut roughly, plunging the bathroom into darkness once again.

As unlikely as it is, Adam hopes and prays that the woman is real, and that he will get help and survive.

As he finally drifts off to sleep, he thinks of the cat outside of his apartment, maybe he can finally take it in and care for it.

Such non-judgemental creatures they are. 

[angel-shaw]

First draft of my Magnus Archive Fic!

This is the first “chapter” of my first TMA fic:) I am still working on it and I haven’t edited this at all yet but I really want some input and praise:3

I started this fic off of a dream that my TMA obsessed bf begged me to wright. I haven’t reached the main part that I am super excited about yet so expect more! For those who read this let me know if I should post this as a multi chapter fic and post this rn to Ao3 or if I should wait till I am done with it:)

Summary - Tim and John are trapped in a concrete room inside the Achrives, Nether knows what happened or how to get out so they have no choice but to sit in their together. (Takes place after season 1 and definitely before season 3, might make it so Sasha is fine because I can )

Currently at 8016 words:)

Tw: being trapped, paranoia, etc kinda stuff (lemme know if more needs to be tagged :). )

“Tim,” John said, shaking his counterpart.

“Tim you need to wake up, food is ready and you need to eat it hot.”

Underneath several thick blankets John heard heard tim mumble something along the lines of

‘I’m cold, fuck off.’

John sighed.

“I know your cold Tim but the warm food will help with that, please i don't want to fight you on this every time.”

The blankets shuffled quickly and John flinched back as Tim pulled the blankets down from his, very tired looking, face.

“Then don't! Leave me be! Why do you even care John? It's not like anything can be done about this so why not do what you've always done and either leave me alone or go speculate about whether or not I'm some possessed version of myself who will randomly decide to try and kill you for some obscure reason only you understand in a corner?!”

John stood frozen for a few seconds as Tim glared at him. When Tim started to shiver despite the blankets it snapped John out of his stupor. Instead of responding he instead held a hot bowl of soup out for Tim to take.

“This should help,” John whispered as Tim frowned.

It took a minute but Tim shifted to prop himself against the wall and took the bowl.

John took his own bowl and sat a little ways away from Tim as they both ate in silence.

This was their routine, minus Tims outburst normally. For the last 2 weeks Tim and John have been trapped in this room. It reminded John of the archival room without the shelves and boxes of statements. A stone room with no windows and only one door. John couldn't even remember how he and Tim had gotten there. He couldn't explain why they were stuck in there and even less of a clue where the food and resources came from. It felt like some kind of thing fucking with them. Giving them what they need to survive but not to get out.

At first he and Tim argued a lot, both scared and confused. Johns added paranoia didn't help that ether and seeing as how they were stuck together now 24/7 they had plenty of time to fight. That was until Tim started to get sick, it was so easy for John to notice the change. Tim started to shiver, at times John could even hear his teeth chattering. He stopped moving around the room and just stayed curled up under his blanket. One night John had waited till Tim had fallen asleep and threw his own blanket on top of Tims shivering form. The days following John had asked Tim if he was alright but was met with hostility. And that's how it had been the past week and a half. When Tim stopped eating John took it upon himself to make sure Tim had food to eat. He noticed when he ate Tim stopped shivering for a time so he made sure there was almost always a hot food for Tim to have when he started to violently shiver.

John and Tim rarely talked because it seemed it could only lead to another fight. So the silence the two fell into well eating no longer felt awkward.

When Tim placed his bowl down onto the stone floor he immediately withdrew into the two blankets.

“Do you want more?”

A muffled mumble.

Because John couldn't hear him he decided to move closer. He scooted up to the blanket and leaned down.

“What was that?’’

The entire blanket flinched and before he knew it a flash a pain shot through his nose. John flinched back and cried out, bringing his hands up to his face.

John's eyes were shut tight and he could feel the tears welling up behind his eyelids. He was too preoccupied feeling a hot wet liquid start to run down his hands and wrists to notice Tim and sat up and threw the blankets off of himself.

“Oh holy shit! John, I didn't realize you got so close. What the hell where you doing?! Shit are you ok? Oh holy fuck thats alot of blood. Shit shit SHIT! Here uhh just, just stay here. I'll go and find something, oh fucking hell theres so much blood’” Tims rant could barely be heard by John who was still sitting in shock and pain.

A few seconds later John felt Tims strong hands envelope his own, distantly he could hear Tims voice. It sounded…calmer than usual? No, not calmer… nicer.

“John come on, lemme see.”

John could feel his head shake, there weren't any real thoughts going through his mind really so he didn't know why.

“Hey come on, I kinda know how to fix it….a little…I won't make it worse at least.”

John felt his head shake harder. He really needed to stop doing that. It made his head hurt and him feel dizzy.

“Come on John, please let me help.”

Finally John let Tim pull his hands down, his eyes still shut tight and still in an immense amount of pain.

“Shit…Ok here,” Tim's voice was quiet as he started wiping around the nose, clearing some of the blood before holding it to John's face firmly.

“See that's not too bad right? We got this…no problem.”

Tim took a deep breath, “Ok John can you hear me?”

Again John could distantly feel himself nod, nothing felt real.

“Good, good. Ok so this next bit is gonna sting like a bitch right? It will be over quick though ok? Can I?”

Another nod, what was he even agreeing to?

And then the grasp on the cloth over his nose became much firmer before there was a loud crack and a fresh wave of pain with an overwhelming nausea flowing through him.

“Fuck!”

He could hear a lot clearer now, so much so that he could hear the hiss of Tim sucking air through his teeth.

“See,” Tim meekly tried, “Wasn't too bad ay?”

John finally opened his eyes, he could still feel how wet they were and to his displeasure he could feel that wetness stream down his face. Tim was still sat in front of him holding his nose with a weird look on his face.

It was a look John couldn't quite place, he had never been the best at reading people. Somehow always coming to the seemingly worst concussion possible.

“You ok John?”

Tims voice was quite soft, it was something John had noticed. Whenever Tim spoke to others, others like the random people who visited the archive or the food attendees at the outings he was forced to go on. He would question why talking to Tim made those people feel better, or at least good judging by their smiles. Now that that softness was directed at him he understood why those peoples smiles got bigger. He wanted Tim to keep talking to him like that.

“John?”

John looked up at Tim, still in shock from Tim REBREAKING HIS NOSE.

“Did you just break my nose..?”

Tim shifted uncomfortably, “Ya I'm sorry, I had to set it so it won't heal wrong…”

“That really hurt, like a lot….It still really hurts”

“Here just hold the cloth to it for now and the bleeding should stop soon, plus the pressure might help with the pain. It's what i did when i broke my nose”

John stared at Tim increadisully but talking moved his nose and made it hurt more so he decided to stay quiet.

Until he looked down and saw how much blood there was everywhere.

—----------

Tim watched as he saw John's breathing get faster, his eyes were huge as he looked at his hands and arms. The blood was still wet and dripping down his arms to the stone floor.

“John?”

No response from him, John didn't even look up at him.

“Jonathan, man are you ok?”

Again, no response. Faster breathing, it was starting to freak Tim out. Was John having a panic attack? Sure Tim had seen plenty, hell just working at the Archive meant a lot of people who were giving statements had a lot of them. John though, he was always so…well not really confident but he held himself in a way that made him seem untouchable.

Tim had seen him with his paranoia but it was never like this, he was always looking for a way to fix whatever he was paranoid about, even if he was bluntly wrong and being stupid. This…this was so different. John was panicking, worse than the panic Tim had seen during the Worm incident. Why was a broken nose worse than a worm burrowing itself into his skin?????

“John!”

Nothing.

“John, look at me.”

Tim was still holding the cloth, John had never reached his hands back up to take it himself. He was too busy…working himself into a panic attack???

Tim used that to his advantage, he tilted John's head up until his eyes shot to him.

“It's ok, you're ok. Nothing really happened right? You're all good. The pain will go away soon, you just need to breathe.”

John shook his head and looked back down at his hands.

“Is…is it the blood freaking you out?”

John didn't reply but as Tim contoured to follow his eyes he was pretty sure he was right.

“Shit ok, umm here, John.. John!”

John startled to look back up at Tim, he really did look panicked. Shit….

“Look John, just close your eyes ok? I'll take care of it. Come on, just close them. I'm not going anywhere…it's not like i can really, But I swear i'll take care of it”

John finally squeezed his eyes shut again, his breathing was still way too fast but it seemed like he was trying to calm that down so that was good.

Tim wasn't quite sure what to do after that. Now that he knew what the major problem was he should try to fix it right? But he was still holding on to John's nose so he couldn't go to the sink to get anything to help so what the hell was he going to do?

It was really cold out from his blankets, not as cold as before but still. He might fight John on it but the warm food really did help. John was so confusing, one day he was acting like Tim would snap and go on a random killing spree and now he was…trying to help him? It didn't make any sense.

Then Tim had an idea.

“Hey John, can you stand up?”

John nodded his head slowly.

“Ok good, well I need you to stand, I'll be right here k? You don't have to open your eyes, i'll lead you where we need to go.”

John nodded again. It took another moment for John to try to start standing, he almost fell and grabbed onto tims arms to stabilize himself.

Shit he has a weak ass grip-

“Hay it's alright,” Tim said quietly, “You can hold onto me.”

John's hands somehow ended up on Tims side as he stood, the two of them stood there letting balance be regained before struggling to move around the room.

—-----------

It was hard to stay standing with his legs shaking but he could feel Tims free hand helping to hold him up as they shuffled somewhere.

Where were they going? It couldn't be far of course, the two had stuck in this one room for what felt like so long now. Unless Tim had been lying and he had known a way out this entire time. What if all this was a plan?

No he was being unreasonable, he knew Tim. Tim wouldn't.

Before he could think anymore on it he heard tims muffled voice again.

“Ok I'm gonna lean you again here kk? Just lean here and I'll clean you up.”

John just nodded again.

See? He thought to himself. Tims good, Tim wouldn't lie like that. As prickly as he had been he hadn't done anything wrong and he was stuck here too.

Jonathan had always struggled with paranoia, he always needed someone or something to blame for everything. Even if it was himself that at least gave it a reason to happen, it gave an explanation he could wrap his head around. But when something he didn't understand or explain happened he always tried to reasonably put the blame onto someone. That someone just tends to be who else was with him. Even hard evidence against his accusation did little to rest his mind.

It had gotten worse over the years, working at the institute had started to help. Sure the stuff he knew was real was terrifying and he wished it were not, hense his dismissal of the cases, but they gave explanations. It gave him an odd sense of calm, knowing that. But the second something happened that he couldn't explain, something that just possibly could have been one of his coworkers, he fell deep into a rabbit hole of mistrust and dishonesty. His pariona got so bad, he knew it affected his coworkers in negative ways, because they told him. Tim expressly got fed up with his actions.

In the time Tim and himself had been stuck John had started to try and think his way through his paranoia. That was hard when his tactic was to blame something and the only thing he could think of at first was the one he was trapped with. But eventually he noticed his parinona of Tim go down. It really started when he noticed how sick Tim had gotten. It sprung something in his mouse brain that it just couldn't be Tims fault, Tim was sick and needed help. It started to override his paranoia.

At least of Tim. Everything else though was fair game. The vent? Something was in it. The wall? More worms.

There were multiple nights where John stayed up and checked every coroner of the room for something, anything. But night after night he found nothing.

Now everytime he had some paranoid thought about Tim it seemed so much easier to work through it. It was a nice change, being able to work through it.

And now Tim was running warm water and slowly wiping John's own blood off of him. Honestly John was surprised Tim didn't just leave him sitting there on the floor in his own panic bubble. But distantly, he knew Tim wouldn't do that, couldn't. Tim was so kind, even when they yelled at each other Tims concern for John seemed so obvious. Though the anger and everything, it was still clear Tim was worried about John. Just like he was worried for everyone else.

John could feel the warm cloth down his arm, it was soothing. Tim was still holding his nose, it must have been getting annoying.

So John lifted the arm Tim wasn't currently working on and tried to take the cloth himself. His eyes were still closed but he could swear he heard Tim jump when his hand touched his.

“ i can hold it..,’’ John said quietly. It felt like talking too loudly would break whatever was happening right now. And John didn't want that.

—------------

Tim was in fact shocked when John's hand grabbed his own, he was so focused on trying to get the blood off with only one hand that it caught him off guard.

But he let John hold up the cloth and was finally able to use both hands. John's breathing had evened out a lot, Tim hadn't noticed at first but as he worked he could feel John taking long deep breaths. It was the first time Tim had actually seen John even try to self regulate.

That was one thing about John that pissed Tim off, it always seemed as though he just let his pariona dictate everything. He never even seemed to try and reason anything, just letting the fear take over and start running everything. It was good to know John COULD chill himself out a bit.

Tim continued to wash John’s arm off before rinsing the cloth and continuing. There really was a lot of blood, it was suppressing John hadn't fainted or something. Sure when he stood he was wobbly as all hell but being dizzy was expected.

The two of them stood in silence for a while, Tim at one point lifting John's free hand up to hold the cloth so he could clean the other but it was a comfortable silence.

John's eyes, despite still being closed, looked much more relaxed than just a few minutes prior. Granted the dark circles that came with a broken nose were starting to show, Tim frowned at that even after his nose had healed those bruises would probilly stay there for quite a while. Tim thought about it for a second longer, overall they weren't too much different from John's massive eyebags he had all the time. Given the nights Tim knew he had been staying up just walking around the room muttering to himself.

That was another thing about John Tim noticed, he talked to himself a lot. Not in a creepy way like in movies, ok well sometimes, but mostly it felt like he was just trying to think. Like just saying his thought process out to make sure it sounded right. There was once he had heard one of John's tangests when he thought he alone and John had said something, stopped and said “well that didn't make sense” it was quite funny. Probably would have been funnier if Tim hadn't been so upset with him at the time.

Only when John's arms were clean did Tim break the silence.

“Here John, your arms are clean. Lemme see if the bleeding stopped.”

John still didn't say anything, just wincing as Tim pulled the bloody rag away from his face.

Tim winced, “Ya…no keep that there im gonna get some toilet paper.”

As he walked away Tim heard John mutter something under his breath so he wheeled himself around on his heel. He felt himself getting angry, he was trying to help him and John was still making comments and shit?? God this was why he stopped respecting him, all his damn paranoia and bullshit.

“What.” It wasn't really a question, whatever John’s answer he wasn’t going to like it. So technically it could be considered a trap.

John of course didn’t notice the massive shift in Tims face as his eyes were closed, but he did hear the change in his voice.

“Thank you, I said, this hurts, a surprising amount actually. I don’t think I’d know what to do if you weren’t helping me….so thank you”

For once, for once in the entire damn time Tim had known him, John said something right.

Tim immediately felt stupid for getting mad so quickly. He might not understand what the hell John’s switch up was about but it pissed him off.

“Right.”

Even if he was wrong he was still annoyed, none of this made sense, if anything John suddenly tried to help him or whatever this upset him more. Hell the only reason he was helping him right now was because he panicked once he heard the crack of John’s nose.

—-------------

John held his nose until Tims bigger hands pulled his own away. Quickly John felt the wads of toilet paper touch him as Tim tried to shove them up his still bleeding nose.

As it stood, his nose still hurt like hell evidently. So John flinched hard, abruptly pulling back from Tim. Even more unfortunately, the sink he was leaning most of his weight on was not big. So when he flipped back he had thrown his weight into….well nothing.

All the shit people said about falling in slow motion, was in fact just that, shit. John didn't have any time to process he was even falling before he felt Tims arms wrap around his waist. John by all definition was a small man, he knew that, but when Tims arms were so solidly wrapped completely around his waist he /felt/ small.

“Shit! Fuck I'm sorry are you good? Well obviously not, fucking duh. Shit here, Im just gonna….uhh…I'm gonna get you over on the chair that way you don't rocket yourself on the floor ya?”

Johns face was burning again, strangely not just around his nose, but it must have been from irritating it. He made and tried to help make it at least not a struggle to move him, which was hard considering his legs were not planted on the ground, tangled between Tims.

Somehow Tim was able to move him without ended with both of them on the floor. John's only real thought during the short journey was that Tim didn't radiate heat like most did, he wasn't cold per say but he missed the warmth someone would expect.

“Damn you're warm, you know that?”

“Hmm?”

John was pulled from his thought by Tims comment’ “I think you’re just cold”

Tim sat John down on the wooden chair.

Tim rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, “ nah I think it's you”

John hadn't realized it but he had finally opened his eyes. His own arms weren't covered in blood thanks to Tim. Tims arms however were not so clean. He had been trying to help John stop freaking out and gotten blood, John's blood, all over him.

“Oh shit! Right, you're still bleeding; give me a sec!”

John honestly hadn't noticed his nose still leaking blood down his face until Tim reminded him, he lifted his hand to catch the blood but before his could Tim was back and stopping him.

“Put your damn hand down. I just cleaned your amsnup I don't need you fucking that up already. Ok it looks like I set it ok so it should be good.”

“Ya did hurt a lot by the way”

“Ya I know, I'm sorry. I mean if you would have rather it healed in the wrong place we could have left it but I figured if I just did it then…” Tim trialed off, he had an odd look on his face.

“ No no,that was uh fine. It hurt though. How did you know to do that? I figure it's not something you just picked up from tv….at least I hope not.” John tried to joke, but he really really hoped that Tim didn't just do that just because of a bad tv show.

“Haha ya, I umm, I broke my nose quite a lot as a kid so I learned how to handle it. If I'm being honest I did originally try it because of the show…it was a really bad cop sitcom that I watched all time.”

“You watched sitcoms?” It genuinely caught John off guard, he expected Tim to watch a bunch of horror or something like that.

“There a problem with that?”

“No no of course not, I just… didn't expect it”

—------------------

As they talked Tim noticed that it seemed to draw Johns attention away from his injury. Would he normally talk about stuff like this to him? No of course not, hell if he tried John probably would have had a paranoid delusion about it or something and accuse Tim of being a clone or some shit like that.

But if tim helped keep him calm, and he wasn't going to freak out over it, fine.

He started to clean Johns face as he talked. He tilted John's face back and actually managed to get the paper in his nose without a mass spasm this time.

“Ya, normally it's not my kind of thing but I watched it a lot when I was younger. The….uh..guys I hung out with could tolerate it and it didn't make me cry so it was always on. Heh, I love the show. It's actually pretty funny, not accurate but I get enough action with cops nowadays that I don't need accuracy about ‘em” Tim laughed.

He could see John's smile, Tim distantly thought it would be better without all the blood.

“That's…nice. ,my grandmother wished I would get into a show. It could never keep my attention for long. I was better with books.”

This was weird, this entire thing was weird. John being civil and…nice. The two of them talking casually about things Tim had never told anyone. It wasn't like Tim was telling John everything that was part of it but John now knew more than anyone else and it was so casual. The two of them had been stuck in this place for what, 2 weeks now? And now here the two of them were, talking after Tim had broken his nose.

“Never had the time to read books, I uh, got busy alot so shows where a lot easier you know?”

“That's fair enough.”

Tim finished cleaning John's face and backed up,” there you go, you gonna have raccoon eyes for a while.”

John's head tilted to the side, holy shit he looked like a….a confused puppy.

“Racoon eyes?”

Tim laughed, he couldn't help it, “ ya when you brake your nose for the first time you get bruised around your eyes and they look like the face of a raccoon. It hurts but it looks cool once they heals a bit. I probably still have a picture of me with ‘em somewhere actually.”

John already had the circles forming around his eyes, they were gonna get a lot darker in the next few hours but they should clear up pretty quick.

“I see, well thank you for telling me. I'm sure it would have been quite a nasty shock to see that in the mirror with no warning.”

“Ooooooh ya” Tim laughed’ “ the first time it happened to me the guy who broke my nose had to burst into the bathroom to see why I was sobbing after I saw, God that was a daaaay. Hurt like a bitch.”

Tim saw Johns frown, he obviously saw the problem in Tims word and for a second Tim really thought he was going to ask and he would have to shut the entire conversation down because he fucked it up.

But instead John just kept it going, “ Well I'll try to keep my shock to a minimum to not startle you then.”

Tim smiled.

—------------

John saw the change in Tims demeanor when he had said that, if there was one thing John was good at t was avoiding conversations. Sure he was curious and a little worried but it wasn't any of his business. It was Tims life and childhood, whatever had happened he was fine now so there wasn't any need to push it.

It was then when John saw the blood on Tims shirt. It made Johns chest tighten, that was one of Tims favort shirts, and quite frankly one of the only peaces of clothing's he hadn't the moment well trapped in the room.

“Oh Tim your shirt…”

Tim looked down, apparently also having forgotten he was covered in Johns blood.

“Damn it! Oh fuck that sucks. I don't think I have another shirt clean…”

John had been cleaning what he could and for some reason it seemed that the cloths they put in the laundry basket occasionally got cleaned but it seemed to be at random times and if Tim said he didn't have another he didn't.

“Damn…I liked this shirt to. Ya think I’ll be able to get the blood out?”

Tim was back to rubbing his neck, like it was a nervous habit or something. Most of the blood has dried and because Tim’s shirt was a relatively light color there was little hope for it.

So John shook his head, “I think you got it on your neck…”

“Hmm? How the hell would I have gotten it on my neck??….oh..”

Tim pulled his hand from the back of his neck, and stared at it.

“Fuck.”

“You say that a lot.”

Tim’s eyes snapped back to him. Oh that was the wrong thing to say.

“Ya I do. Ya I fucking do John. You know why? Beacuse for the past two week I’ve been stuck in a freezing fucking room with my boss who suddenly 180ed how he’s acting and that’s fucking confusing. I’m cold all the time and every night I hear you walking around the room muttering to yourself about whatever the fuck you are, you have been insisting on feeding me and ahit when you never cared before. Hell apparently you wanted to feed me so fucking bad I broke your fucking nose and now I’m standing out in the cold open air well cleaning you up and now I have my only shirt covered in blood. I think I’m allowed to swear when all this shit keeps happening,” Tim took a deep breath breath

John was frozen in shock from Tims outburst. Sadly he wasn't done.

“No and you know what John? I have tried so fucking hard to bond with throughout my years working with you and all I was met with was a complete wall and hell later I was met with worse then a wall! All I got from you was distrust and a fucking staucker! We worked together for how many years before you became the head Archivest and you still thought I was some fucking monster! You took pictures of my house and I still was trying to give you grace but at every turn you just proved it was useless. What changed? Why the hell are you trying to be so fucking nice to me now?? I'd love to know!”

John sat silently staring up up at who had began rubbing his arms well pacing. He had no idea what to say, he knew after everything he hadn't treated Tim, or any of his staff really, well. Much less the respect they deserved. Tim had gone though the exact thing John had just with the extra stress of having to run through the tunnels alone. And still John treated him as a threat, he knew Tim and still was so cruel.

Tim had every right to be angry, to be hurt. And after everything he deserved to question John.

“I….I'm sorry Tim. For everything,” before he could continue Tim turned on him again.

“Your /sorry/?! Your sorry that you completely disregarded everyone and pushed all of us to our wits ends. Your sorry for all the nights where we tried to stay late to help you with whatever you thought was going on? The multiple accusations you threw around without a second thought? Your sorry? Are you fucking kidding me John!”

John flinched and looked away from Tim. All the softness and concern drained from his voice and expression.

“Yes…I'm sorry. I…nothing I say will fix it…I was to deep in my own parking and could never stop to think about you all,” John whispered.

He heard Tim scoff but he stayed quite.

“I…thank you for trying so hard Tim…I didn't..don't, deserve any kindness your understanding from you. I know before this all I was not the best ether, I'm sorry for that as well. I can't tell you what changed..I don't even remember when it did. Just after we got locked in here….I was able to stop thinking about you like that. It seems so obvious now that you couldn't, wouldn't have done anything, especially not this. You wouldn't lock me in a room with you, you wouldn't let yourself get sick…you stuck in here too. I saw how you got sick, the least I could do after everything was at least try to help..”

—-------

Tim let his arms drop. He had screamed at John and instead of fighting him, John was apologizing.

He looked so…sad? Remorseful? Guilty?

Good.

He should feel bad, after all the shit he put Tim through.

As John sat there Tim could feel all his anger leave him,it was like a weight off his chest. Without the weight he felt empty, like he had nothing to keep him going. To keep him standing.

God it was cold.

So Tim sat. He looked up at John whose head shot up when he heard something hit the ground. Damn it, he really was worried about him.

He sighed.

“Keep talking,” Tim said as he pulled his knees to his chest and rested his head on them.

“W-what?”

“Just keep talking, I'm…I can't be mad any more John, I'm too tired right now. Anything you want to tell me, tell me now. The quiet is too loud.”

Tim stared at the wall. It hadn't changed at all, still a plain, windowless, slab of cold concrete. He could hear John's breath.

“Right then. I suppose I can do that. When do you want me to start?”

Tims mouth was covered in the curled up position so even to him his words were muffled.

“Don't care”

He cared a little bit, even if he didn't have the energy to be angry he still wanted to know. Granted what John already said was more then he had ever expected to hear. He wanted more, apparently John was going to give it so he would take what he gave.

“Right. Well, you know this part already, after Martin found Gertrude's body I spiraled into a panic trying to figure out what happened. I'm still convinced that someone, or at least something killed her…but I was so far in the panic everyone seemed suspicious, no matter how much evidence I had. I needed something to blame, a reason that wasn't just some random thing killing her in a way she had no chance of stopping. I…I felt I needed to know so I could stop it happening to me. You all were the people closest so I…I blamed you. Even if it didn't make sense.”

Tim knew that, it was obvious to everyone honestly. Everyone except John himself of course, Tim supposed it was good for John to finally realize it to.

“If I'm being honest….I wanted it to be one of you so I could prove to myself that I can't trust people. But..I know it wasn't, you all, you all are good. I don't know how to approach any of you, even before all this. I'm so distant from everyone because I believed everyone was just…plotting. A Lot of the times I was right but I wasn't with you all. You all were genuinely trying to be kind to me and I refused to meet you. I'm sorry again.”

Tim hummed. He understood that train of thought, that everyone was bad and out for themselves. Hell he thought that for the longest time too, it was the only thing that kept him alive for years. He didn't notice when he stopped thinking that, was it when he found the Institute? Meeting Sasha or Martin maybe? He couldn't be sure.

Thankfully John continued after a brief pause. Tim heard the deep breaths he was taking.

“When we first got stuck in here I was still going down my rabbit hole, I don't know when I first was able to stop and think properly again. I think it was when you stopped pacing around the room, strted to hide in the blankets. I knew something was wrong and it….flipped a switch and suddenly I was just able to…trust you.”

Tim lifted his lead and looked at John, who was looking anywhere but him.

“You..you trust me?”

Silence.

Tim thought he was going to backtrack or ignore him but,

“Yes. I trust you Tim”

John finally looked at Tim.

The bruises around John's eyes were starting to darken and Tim couldn't help but start to laugh.

After everything, after Prentiss and all the fucking worms, the servalance tapes, everything. This is what got John to trust him. He decked John in the face not even an hour ago and now he was flat out saying he trusted him!

He could see the confusion on John's face but as his eye crinkled so did the starting bruises and it just looked so ...so funny on John. John who was always so serious and methodical and paranoid looked like he had a painted on bandits mask.

Tims laughter dubbed and he ended up laying back on the hard floor. John to his credit stayed quite as Tim laughed, just as he didn't when he yelled. But that didn't make it any less funny.

“Holy hell John,” Tim barely breathed out between bursts of laughter.

“You, you make no sense!”

—-----------------

Tim was still having with laughter as John processed what was going on.

He had no idea why Tim was laughing. Just a few minutes ago he was angry and yelling but now? Right after John told him he trusted him..did he think John was lying?

If he were less worried about Tims sudden for of laughter he would have given himself the moment to just enjoy the sounds. Later that night he would think about it and realize it was the first time he really heard Tim laugh. Not just he chuckles and short huffs, a real laugh.

When Tim finally called down he stayed laying on the floor. His breathing was loud and felt exaggerated but John didn't say anything.

“You know John, you have the strangest mind.”

More beats of silence

“Do…do you really trust me or are you just fucking with me John?”

Finally John was able to say /something/.

“ When have I ever “fucked with you”? I am of course I do trust you I wouldn't just say that…”

Tim chuckled again, “ it's just odd John, I was so angry at you a bit ago but now, now I just ... .God I don't know.”

John sat there confused and frankly a little concerned.

The both of the sat there, John could feel the tissue in his nose collecting blood and it was weird.

“Hay John…”

John looked at Tim immediately.

“Yes?”

“You're a real prick, you know that?”

Although he was insulting him Tims voice didn't have any anger in it anymore, not as far John could tell. Then again John was shit at telling somehow knew. Not John.

“I..yes I am aware.”

Tim groaned

“ God you sound like one too! Seriously you need to lighten the fuck up and learn how to talk without sounding like a English teacher.”

“I think the way I talk is just fine,” John said defensively. His arms crossed over his chest.

“No, no you really do. I swear you give me flashbacks of falling asleep in 10th grade English. It's crazy,” Tim was still laying on the floor and while John couldn't see it, was smiling.

“Well perhaps the reason you think it's odd is because you were napping while being taught proper language.”

“Na, you're just weird. Also no one just says ‘perhaps’ John. Nobody.”

Tim finally sat back up. He leaned back on his hands and looked at John. He sighed.

“I'm sorry John.”

What? What could you be apologizing for? I-”

“Cuz I just started fuckin yelling at you man. You didn't even do anything and I just blew off on you,” John was about to interrupt but Tim held up his hand.

“I mean I had every right, have, for that matter, to be angry but I just blew up on you when you were probably just trying to mess with me. Fuck I broke your nose and then cleaned you up and then yelled at you! Here I am going on about mixed signals and doing it myself! It wasn't fair. I'm sorry.”

“Um, thank you?”

“Was that a question?”

“I…No?”

“Why are you just asking questions? I'm trying be sincere here man.”

“I know I just, I don't know what to do. I, I am not used to being apologized to..”

“Martin says sorry to you all the time?????”

“Well, ya, but that's ,Martin. He apologizes for everything, even when he's done nothing wrong.”

Tim agreed and laughed a little.

“I suppose that's true. But ya John, I should've, I should've handled it better. Especially cuz I just broke your nose well you were trying to do something nice to me.”

“I did catch you off guard. You can't be fully to blame.”

Tim laughed again. John felt himself smile. He didn't quite understand what was going on or how Tim reacted but he liked that he seemed calmer. He seemed calmed then he had been since the two of them had been trapped. John didn't want to ruin that. Tim deserved a moment of calm.

Then Tim had a full body shiver. It snapped John out of his semi-daze.

“Are you alright?”

“Fuck ya I'm fine,” Tim was rubbing his arms again.

It must have been a trick of the light but John could have sworn Tims lips where blue.

“I'm just a bit cold. Its fucking freezeing in here.”

“You should lay back down, maybe eat some more.”

“Oh shut it. I'm fine. It's just a bit cold. It's not like the floor is helping any though.”

John went to stand up, but when he did it felt like a rush of dizziness and nausea ran though his bones. He quickly sat back down. His eyes squeezed shut trying to stop the room from spinning around him.

“Oh shit, John.”

He felt Tims strong hand on his shoulder holding him up to prevent him was falling forward.

Strong hand? Why was he thinking that. It's just Tims hand.

“Hey, it's ok. Just breath, Itll go away soon.”

John nodded. He reached his hand up to hold Tim's arm he took deep breaths and slowly he could feel the world righting itself around him.

When he finally opened his eyes Tim was right in front of him kneeling on the floor. His arm reached him stabilizing John and the other rested on the chair, just shy of touching him.

Tims eyes were on his, the brown color piercing into Johns.

“You ok there John,” Tims said softly.

His voice was always so smooth, it never sounded bad. Tim was so close to him.

John nodded, he opened his mouth but when nothing came out he closed it again and looked away from Tims concerned eyes.

“You lost a shit ton of blood you know, you really should be more careful. You, of all people, should know about the dizziness man.”

“Right, I was just trying to-”

“Ether way man,” Tim interrupted “You can't be fucking stupid. Come on, I'll help you to lie down.”

“I can walk just fine on my own.”

John was trying but Tim had other plans. He slid his arm under johns and lifted him to his feet. John's head swam as he rose.

“Every time you have tried to walk in the past, however I've been out of my blankets you've almost fallen so I don't wanna hear it.”

Tim walked John over to his pile of blankets. Not Johns little spread but Tims own.

“And before you start bitching about this being my…. pile, I broke your nose and you lost a lot of blood, you need to stay warm. You can use my stuff tonight.”

As Tim sat John down he was able to catch up with what he was saying.

“What about you? I gave you all these because you've been shivering all night.”

“John….have you been watching me sleep.”

It didnt really sound like a question but John answered it anyway.

“Well it's not exactly hard to notice. I uh, I don't sleep a lot. I spend a lot of time trying to find something but I do….check on you occasionally. You shiver a lot so I have been giving you any new blankets that appear. I don't really need them.”

Tim stared at John. He could tell if he was angry or not, he looked almost passive. Well he wasn't holding John any more he could still almost feel a chill coming off of Tim. The little bit of his arms that were exposed were covered in goosebumps.

That's one thing John never understood about Tim, his style. He would wear a lot of more revealing clothes, nothing too scandalous during work but he seemed to be wearing it under his clothes.If John sent him to get information he always came back to the institute…wearing less then when he left. Right now, he was wearing one of his only long sleeves he currently had. The only problem was that his sleeves had holes at the shoulders. The shirt was designed like that. And it's not like it looked /bad/ on Tim, it just defeated the point of wearing long sleeves.

John realized he was staring at Tims shoulders and looked back up at Tims face. They both knew he was cold and before John could start to object Tim did something completely unexpected.

“Ugh fine. I don't want to hear a word from you about this. Got it? You did this yourself and the only reason I'm doing it is because your right about me being cold. Its fucking freezeing in here and it's crazy your not frozen to death with the week ass scratchy piece of cloth that we have been calling a blanket.”

Tim shifted to sit next to John and layed down.

“Well come on, I'm not going to sit with the cold air hitting me for much longer.”

John didn't say anything and lied next to Tim on the thick comforter he had pushed over the concrete floor to protect from the cold. Tim quickly pulled the other 4, yes 4, blankets over the two of them.

“There, now you can't complain.”

John nodded and watched as Tim curled his body so all of it was under the covers, even his head.

—————

Tim felt John shift around for a minute before finally laying still.

The blankets were big enough to cover both of them easily so it wasn’t like they were touching or anything but they were still quite close. He could feel John’s warmth under the blankets, his body heat being trapped in.

Tim had to admit it was really nice, the blankets helped but having John right next to him helped even more with the cold that continued to seep through him. He wished he could have John just fold around his body so he could soak up all his warmth. But that was asking way /way/ too much. He didn’t even ask about this, he just forced John to lay down somewhere that wasn’t on the freezing concrete.

He really did feel bad about snapping at John today. He felt justified in his anger but just because he was justified in it doesn’t mean it was appropriate. Over the past few days John really was just trying to help him, he kept insisting that he eat and he kept giving Tim his blankets.

It was really sweet when he stopped and thought about it, he could take a form of comfort in that. He also took a not so small comfort knowing John was right next to him. He could feel his warmth and feel the blankets shift as he did.

And even though Tim was always cold he usually held one tight against his chest. He just couldn’t sleep without holding something, when he was home he had a stupid stuffed animal that he would hold at night but here he didn’t. Any semblance of comfort Tim useily took part in was gone, for now and the foreseeable future. But he could at least have this for now, even if it was only for tonight.

Maybe he could convince John to sleep like this more. He thought as he curled even more into himself and tried to fall asleep.

That’s for what I thought would be a good chapter 1!

I do have more written and I am continuing to wright it:)

Should I start posting this to Ao3 now or should I wait?

I love feedback and suggestions!

If you want to be tagged when I post about this fic let me know and I’ll try! :)

Thank you so much for reading!