#the pain is the point chris. i hope this stings.

[stabknives]

For Richie's birthday Monroe and Chris should fuck nasty

[dollfacefantasy]

LIGHT OF THE FULL MOON ♡

pairing: werewolf!chris redfield x fem!reader

summary: your husband hasn't been the same since coming back from his latest mission. you struggle to understand the cause, not wanting to believe the worst. on the night of a full moon, tensions peak and you're determined to find out the truth.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, dubcon, p in v, knotting, monsterfucking, predator/prey, breeding kink, size kink, dacryphilia, PTSD mention

wc: 6.5k

a/n: long awaited but i hope you guys like! happy almost halloween <33 reblogs, comments, and asks are appreciated :)

kinktober slot: day 30 - monsterfucking

Your husband had been acting strange lately.

Not the typical mid-life crisis kind of strange. There was no new Ferrari parked in the garage, nor had Chris begun to dedicate his time to a niche hobby like roller skating. His behavior was much more... off-putting than those things would be. That was the only way you could think to describe it.

It all began at the beginning of this last Summer when he came home from a short mission.  The trip spanned two weeks and took him up to a sparse, expansive piece of the Canadian wilderness. You weren't especially worried about him while he was gone. You were more upset about the fact that he was going to miss your wedding anniversary than anything else.

Your lack of concern didn't come from a place of callousness. Rather the opposite. You'd been an agent too. It was how you and Chris met. Before a stray bullet to your thigh knocked you out of commission, you had field assignments of your own. You knew that they were only made more stressful when you had someone at home you know worries about you.

So you never did. You trusted that he'd come back to you in one piece like he always does.

This time he did come back in one piece. Walked through the front door like usual with his bag slung across his back and his arms ready for you. You crossed the foyer and sprung yourself against his chest, your smaller arms wrapped around his bulky abdomen.

"I missed you, baby," he murmured, pecking your temple and engulfing you with his thick arms, "My beautiful wife of... how many years is it now?"

You rolled your eyes at the joke and tapped his arm. It was when you followed him back to your bedroom to put his stuff down that your eyes widened and caught on his forearm.

"Jesus! What happened to you?" you asked and took the limb in your hands.

Just below his elbow was a sizable bite. You could tell the type of injury from the crescent pattern of the cuts. If you had to guess, you'd say it probably came from a dog, but you'd never seen a canine with a jaw so large. The wounds were deep red, scabbed over by this point. The nearby skin glowed with the color of injury. You could tell whatever had got him, sunk its teeth in deep.

He looked down at the afflicted area and then back at you before shrugging. "It's nothing. You know how it goes. Those things can be rabid, but I'll heal up in a few days."

Your pupils continued to scan his flesh uncertainly. "I guess..." you conceded.

His statement was true. That wasn't your problem. Of course, you'd seen him with bites before. You'd even been bitten yourself on the job. But it never looked like this. So... gruesome. Upon looking closer, you could see tiny sprawls of plum-tinted veins accompanied by dark patches of discolored skin.

"They treated you, right? You're sure it's not infected?" you checked again.

"Honey, it's fine. C'mon, I know you missed me, but you don't gotta freak out about this," he dismissed in kind.

Despite his claims, he let you fuss over him. You were hesitant to even touch the markings, afraid of causing him pain or irritating the skin further.

He didn't seem to be hurting though. In his recovery, he never complained of aches or stings or throbs. Never held it closer to his body than normal or relied on his left arm to perform tasks. It did eventually heal. He was left with little white patches of scar tissue, but the other array of colors faded.

The only reason you had to believe that this incident triggered his change in behavior was that he began to act differently a few weeks later. 

It started with his sleeping habits.

The Chris you knew slept the whole night through. Rested against your back, spooning you. His body heat radiated from him like a space heater for a solid eight hours every night. He'd wake up with his face nestled in the crook of your neck and plant a few kisses there before pulling away to get up and go about his morning routine.

But now he didn't even come to bed before you'd fallen asleep. His side of the mattress would be vacant when you woke up as well. At first it left you to question whether he'd been there at all. Now though, you're certain he's doing something else during the nocturnal hours. The only thing you couldn't figure out was what that other thing could be.

The next piece of this puzzle came in the way he started eating.

Since that mission, he seemed to have a craving for meat. Red meat. Burgers, steaks, whatever you had in the house. He wanted it all and in large portions. Not only that, but the way you cooked it didn't suit his tastes anymore. You sat across from him at the dinner table with wide eyes as he ate the food you'd prepared to his request. A steak so rare it looked like blood leaked from the raw slab out onto the plate.

Anytime you'd ask about any of this, he'd brush you off with a new excuse. He was just sleeping less now. He'd stayed up later playing a video game. He was waking up earlier to try a new running regime. The food thing was just something his friend told him about and he wanted to try. Supposed to build protein and lower your bmi or some bullshit.

That stuff you could have overlooked, but then he started to look different.

You wanted to blame his new diet for the sudden thickness with which his body hair grew. And perhaps his new workout schedule effected him as planned and could explain the way he was bulking up and nearly popping out of his shirts with gained muscle mass. You weren't so sure though.

If anything, you tried to pin this on your own mind. You were being paranoid. Life wasn't some horror movie. Monsters did exist, but you'd seen them already. They didn't look like this. Right?

And in his defense, not all the changes you'd noticed were bad. Your life in the bedroom had grown much more interesting since his return.

That day he came back, you figured it was his way of making up for your missed anniversary. He'd pounded into you for hours. Rutted into your poor little cunt till it was sore and puffy, struggling to take his thick shaft. What you would've believed to be an impossible amount of arousal coated your inner thighs and soaked the bed sheets beneath you by the time you were done. You knew he had stamina, but for those hours, Chris seemed like another animal entirely.

Every time since then had been similar. They didn't last as long as your reuniting session, but they were just as passionate. He was so much rougher than he'd ever been before. Typically, your husband was overly-cautious with you. Every move he made had his size and strength in mind when deciding the amount of force he'd use to manhandle your legs or snap his hips against your ass.

Now he fucked without a care in the world. His teeth scraped against your neck hard enough to mark. His fingertips left bruises accompanied by the scratches from his nails.

He also came inside you now every time without fail. Since you started taking the pill not long after the two of you started dating, that had always been his favorite place to release. But how he would do it lately... you didn't know any other word for it but primal. When he came, he buried himself inside you. Every inch of his cock filled the snug space between your walls. He growled as it shot out of him, rope after rope. He stuck to you like he wanted to make sure not a drop leaked out or went to waste.

So on that end of things, you didn't mind his shift in personality. It only became a problem when he started going out so often.

He told you a myriad of different places he went to or groups he hung out with, but you didn't believe him. You doubted Jill wanted to see him at ten p.m. on a Wednesday, and you struggled to accept Leon needed some form of help that took him eight hours of the night.

It was always dark out when he was gone, and then there would be certain days of the month that he didn't come back until well into the next morning. That was what drove you crazy. You'd never felt such distrust in your husband before. You always believed him to be faithful. You didn't worry about other women or being replaced or a number of other things your friends complained about with their spouses. You and Chris were a team.

But that vision shattered when you decided to test out the validity of his alibis one night. It hadn't been planned. You always thought loyalty tests were for insecure people, but you hoped that's all you were now. This was just a bout of insecurity, not anything to be truly worried about.

You saw Chris left his phone on the kitchen counter one night, and the idea just sprung into your head. As if the devil himself whispered the words into your ear, you typed out a message to Leon, the man he was supposedly hanging out with.

"Hey, Chris left his phone here. Will you let him know I'll just swing by to drop it off if he's gonna be with you for a while? If he'll be back soon, I can just wait. Thanks :)"

With a shaky thumb, you clicked the send button. You paced around your kitchen while waiting for the response. It didn't arrive instantly. Leon took around ten minutes to get back to you.

"Hey. Chris isn't with me tonight. I'm sorry."

Your legs came to a stop. You clutched both phones so tight that they were in danger of shattering. The ten minutes wasn't spent talking with your husband or doing whatever you thought they did together. It was probably Leon trying to decide if he should cover for him or be honest with you. At least he chose the latter.

You didn't send anything back to the D.S.O. agent. Instead, you went to bed, leaving Chris's phone on his bedside table. You curled up under your blankets. The emptiness of half the mattress caused you physical pain that night. Your eyes shut over the building gloss of tears.

That was a week ago.

Chris had still been going out every night and rotating in one of his friends' names as his unknowing accomplices.

Tonight, you decide that this is it. You're not going to be the sad little wife who's just happy she gets to keep the house while her husband goes out and plays with the other woman. You're done being fed lies and pretending you believe them. You're done being treated as disposable in your own marriage.

When he tells you he's leaving tonight, you say no. He's already been acting weird today, skittish and jumpy, constantly watching the clock. You aren't just going to sweep it under the rug this time. This conversation will get to the bottom of it.

You glare at him from where you're sitting on the couch, watching as confusion overtakes his features. Rarely are you ever firm with Chris. You know how to stand up for yourself, but he rarely gives you a reason to act any kind of strict.

"You're not leaving yet," you repeat.

His expression doesn't change. He stands at the beginning of the hallway to the front door, waiting for you to explain your sudden attitude. It's already getting late. The sky outside is pitch black except for the light of the full moon.

"Tell me where you're going," you demand.

"Out with Leon."

Your expression darkens. "Why are you lying to me?" you ask next.

He's got a phenomenal poker face because not a hint of doubt shows anywhere on his exterior. He doesn't look away, doesn't fidget. All he does is step closer to you, reentering the living room.

"Why would you think that?" he asks, voice calm.

"Because Leon told me you haven't been with him at all," you fire back and stand up. You bolster your proof with exaggeration, but you're confident enough that you're right.

Now a reaction does show on Chris. You can see his jaw clench and his gaze sharpen. This wasn't going to be as easy to talk his way out of as he thought.

"I really don't have time for this tonight," he says.

Your anger is getting ready to boil over into fury at his dismissal.

"Really? Because all I have anymore is time! You leave me here alone every single night! I feel like I barely see you anymore," you say, "I'm supposed to be your wife, but I feel like I'm the side piece at this point."

"You think I'm cheating on you?" he scoffs, disgusted by the suggestion alone.

"What else am I supposed to think?" you explode, raising your voice now, "You don't tell me anything! You just leave to who-fucking-knows where every single night and expect me to be fine with that? I'm not."

"Calm down," he says. His own voice grows firm. He glances down at the time on his watch. His pupils move quickly, looking almost antsy.

"Do you have somewhere else to be? Something more important than this conversation?" you ask incredulously.

"I told you I don't have time for this. We can talk tomorrow," he says. His words come out with more bite which just stokes the flames of your temper.

"No. You can just tell me now," you say and cross your arms, "If you leave without telling me anything, then maybe consider telling your girlfriend to prepare for you to move in with her soon!"

"Give me a fucking break! I am not cheating on you!" he snaps, letting his voice boom, "There is no girlfriend. There's no one else I'm going to!"

He looks more upset now. Some definite anxiety mixed in with his irritation. He looks like he just wants to get out. You wonder if it's the panic of you closing in on the truth or something else that's bothering him. It makes you soften your approach the smallest bit. You sigh.

"Just give me something then. Something that will give me some peace of mind," you reason. You'll accept a half answer at this point. All you want is some semblance of explanation as to why he's going out every night.

But all he does is stare at you. It brings your temper back up, the uncomfortable feeling rising between your lungs.

"Just one thing, Chris! One fucking thing."

"I can't." His voice is strained as if he's trying to keep calm.

"Why?" you ask, flinging your arms up in frustration.

"I just can't. We'll talk about it tomorrow," he says.

With that, he turns to leave. You stand there stunned. But the shock only lasts a moment.

"You're leaving because I'm right and you can't think of a lie so quick!" you shout at him.

He doesn't even look back at you. His steps thud down the hall to the exit of your home. You can't stand it. How could he do this to you? This isn't the man you married. That guy never would have treated you like this.

Before you can even think about it, you're dashing after him. As mad as you are, you can't just let him leave. You love him. Nothing in the world will hurt more than him leaving.

He's moving fast, determined to get out as swiftly as he can, but you're quick too. You'd spent years of your life chasing mutated creatures that could sprint on all fours. Catching up to your husband was nothing.

You reach out for his arm and grab him at his elbow. Your eyes widen at the intensity with which he reacts. He jerks away as if the touch burns.

"Stay away from me," he says. The words don't even sound like his voice. They come out so deep. Almost like a snarl.

Accusations of infidelity are forgotten at this point because all you can feel now is concern.

"Chris... are you alright?" you ask in a much softer voice than you'd been speaking with before.

You reach for him again, barely laying a hand on his shoulder. It's like the touch knocks him back. He nearly trips over his own feet, crashing against your front door but failing to get it open. His shoulders heave, muscles in his back convulsing. A light sheen of sweat breaks out across his forehead.

This time you figure it's best if you stay back. All you did was touch him, but he seems as if he's going to be ill. You stand a few feet away, watching him nervously. His arms come up to cover his face, which blocks your view and prevents you from guessing what's wrong.

"Honey?" you try again gently.

"Get away from me," he rasps, "Leave. Go far away before you can't."

You're back to being lost. You try to think of what this could be. Maybe PTSD? Was he having some sort of flashback? You had accidentally touched the bite.

"I'm not going to leave. You know you can trust me. I'm always here for you. I just want to understand," you coax.

"It's not you I don't trust," he says. He breaks down into a coughing fit and his back arches. It looks like he's trying to restrain himself.

"Just tell me what you need," you say quickly, determined to help him through this, "Anything. Do you need water? Do you need me to call someone?"

Truly, you're lost on possible solutions. This doesn't look like any common sickness you'd seen. It looks more like an infection someone would get in the field. And upon realizing that, panic strikes your heart.

You don't get the chance to voice any fear though because he speaks first.

"Just get out of here," he growls, "Everything you do makes it worse."

Your heart pounds in your ears. What could this be? Did he have some kind of virus and didn't tell you? Maybe his unit was treated with faulty drugs. What if he had lied about getting that bite looked at? Your mind swirls with all these thoughts, and your breathing speeds up to match their pace.

You step back a little, but you're still hesitant to go. Never leave a man behind. That'd been drilled into you since the day you enlisted. You couldn't just leave him to suffer or maybe die. Especially not this man, your man.

You're about to say something else. You take a deep breath and conjure some words of reassurance.

But it's too late.

By the time you look back at him, you see the hair on his arms coming in thicker. It sprouts out another inhumane inch. His nails rise a little bit. The panic inside you courses through your veins with more intensity.

"What's happening to you?" you choke out.

"I told you to go. I wanted to leave. But you told me to stay," he grunts, still trying to conceal his face.

You're stunned into silence, trying desperately to think of what to say. All that comes out are the same words, repeated with a deeper sense of urgency. "What's happening to you?"

He tries to respond, but a strained groan erupts from him.

His body spasms. The seams of his shirt split as his shoulders broaden and muscles puff out. You watch in horror as your husband seems to transform. And then he finally turns his face and looks into your eyes. 

It's the stare of an animal looking at you.

Your hands fly to your mouth to muffle a cry you let out. For years, you thought you escaped your time as an agent mentally unscathed. Besides the occasional nightmare, you never dealt with flashbacks or survivor's guilt. Your damage was purely physical. The bullet to your leg had been it for you. But now, everything was rushing back. Every set of sharp, gnashing teeth. Every creature that lunged at you with its insides on the outside. Every person that should be dead stumbling towards you and trying to bite. All of them, running laps around your frayed mind.

The only thought you could conjure while looking at him was that one of those things was in your house.

You stumble backwards in terror, watching as he rises to his feet. He stands taller than normal. His tattered shirt falls away, his pants holding on by a thread. He's more hairy. His eyes look more intense.

"What are you?" you cry, hot tears beginning to roll down your cheeks.

His now-golden eyes continue to stare at you. The black slits his pupils had morphed into makes you nauseous. His chest is still heaving. It looks like he's resisting the urge to pounce on you.

"What's the matter? I thought you said we're in this together?" he growls.

"Chris!" you sob, "What is this? What did they do to you?"

"You know how it goes, baby," he manages to answer, "I got infected, and they don't know how to treat it yet."

"Why- why didn't you just tell me that?" you whimper, trembling violently.

"You think I wanted to see you looking at me like this? LIke I'm a goddamn monster."

"I'm sorry-" you say instantly, but he cuts you off. He's not interested in hearing that at the moment.

"I wouldn't cheat on you. I never would. I've been going out every night cause there's only two things that make this shit go away," he says, his words becoming more labored as he fights the urge to give into the infection.

"What are they?" you sniffle and wipe at your eyes.

"I go out every night to feed," he starts.

Another cry escapes you at the mere picture it puts in your head. There's no way in hell you're going to ask what - or rather who - he feeds on.

"But tonight, I can't because you didn't want me going out. So I guess we'll have to try the other thing," he rasps.

Your lip quivers violently. Why did he say we this time? You wait with baited breath to learn of your fate.

"You're gonna let me breed you," he says, eyes nearly burning two little holes into you with the heat in his gaze.

You feel like fainting at the idea. Your arms fall to your sides limply. Fear prickles up your spine and into your lungs. It feels like chains are wrapping around your torso, threatening to break your ribs. You could barely look at him like this. How were you supposed to...

"I- I don't know, Chris," you stammer out through tears.

"Well I do. We're gonna do this, or things are gonna get really ugly here," he says. It's a warning, not a threat, which makes it so much more real to you.

You're frozen again, unsure of what to do.

"I'll give you a head start. I need the chase," he says.

You stutter at first, unsure if you should take the opportunity to escape or try to reason with him some more. Though in the few seconds it takes you to contemplate this, it really looks like he's losing control, so you decide to take your chances running.

Whipping around, you bolt down the hall towards the back door. You'd have to leave that way since he was blocking the other point of exit. You plan your route in your head just like you used to during missions. 

There's also always the alternate possibility of darting up the stairs and getting the gun from the bedroom, but you aren't sure if bullets work on him, let alone if you could bring yourself to use it. Even in this new form, you still love him. You don't want to lose him.

So instead you practically rip the backdoor off its hinges before prancing across the porch and into the yard. The air outside is cooler, bringing a chill over you as your feet pad through the soft grass below.

You're in the process of hopping over the fence when you hear the door crash open again. He's after you now.

Breaths leave you in harsh puffs. Your limbs go taut with the instinct to survive. Despite the laser focus of your mind, you still feel shrouded in fear. Where are you running to? What are you going to do when you get there?

You couldn't just run to a neighbor's house. Chris might tear through them like this, and you don't want anyone getting hurt. But there's nothing else. You don't live close enough to any place that could help. Whatever mutation he had would probably aid him in tracking you, so you doubted hiding was an option. He looks more than strong enough to scale a tree.

It doesn't seem like there's any way to escape, but you keep sprinting, hoping for a miracle.

You're fast, but you can still hear your husband barreling towards you from behind. You leap over a log in your way and twist around rocks. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the big chunk of wood go flying seconds later. Then you hear a whoosh in what you assume is him leaping the boulder.

A small whimper leaves you, but you still keep going. You run in a straight line to keep your speed up. Your eyes stay locked straight ahead. He hasn't caught you yet. You can do this.

But interrupting your internal pep talk, the muscles in your thigh seize up, and you shriek. You go toppling to the ground, hitting it with a hard thud. It knocks the wind out of you. Your fingers claw at the dirt as you gasp for air.

This is why you were taken out of the field after your injury. If this happened out there, you'd be seconds away from death.

Right now though, you don't die. In lieu of the force of mortality, your husband crashes on top of you. You scream when he knocks into you. His large arms wrap around your body as the two of you roll across the grass. The struggle ends with him on top, grinning down at you with sharp canines in view. His chest puffs with the exertion it took to get here.

When you catch sight of his face, you wail louder. His features are somehow more pronounced, and a pair of pointed ears have sprouted atop his head. This is worse than any nightmare you've had before. You thrash beneath him, smacking your fists against his chest and jabbing your knees into his sides.

None of your fighting affects him. He wrestles your arms into place with ease and gets your legs to stop with his own, handling you as if you're merely throwing a silly tantrum.

"My sweet little wife," he rasps as he brings his face down to nose at your neck. He groans, his hips bucking as he takes in a breath of your scent. "You tried so hard, but you knew you wouldn't win."

His hand snakes down to massage the cramping muscles in your thigh. He knows just how to soothe them. Even with the rougher quality of his skin and longer nails, his digits move like they did just after you got surgery. Must be muscle memory.

He coos at your tears, nuzzling them away. "Shh, shh, shh, little one," he hushes, "You're gonna be fine. There's no safer place for you than with me."

You keep turning your head away, not wanting to look at him like this.

"Keeping those pretty eyes closed won't save you," he says.

You whimper, now trying to squirm away from him. Like before, he simply wrangles you back into place. He holds you down with one forearm across your collarbone, making you feel doubly pathetic. You push at the limb, but it's of no use. It may as well have weighed 1000 pounds the way you're simply unable to move it.

His free hand comes down to your belly. His warm palm spreads out over it. He holds it there for a moment, feeling how your stomach moves with each breath you take. Then his fingers slice upwards. His nails tear through your thin shirt like scissors through wrapping paper.

You shiver as he yanks it free, leaving your upper-half nude to the night air. Instantly, his hands paw at your breasts. He gropes them, fingers digging into the plump flesh and squeezing them together. His mouth stays at your neck. He kisses the skin, but his movements are sloppy. He laps at your pulse point, heavy breaths fanning over the wet area.

Despite your fear, the touches still stir feelings of desire within your body. You moan softly as his canines scrape along your throat. He chuckles lowly at the sound.

"You smell even better when you're a little scared," he says.

Your pants are next to go. He shreds them into pieces, letting them fall off your figure onto the grass. You squeak at the sound of the denim tearing.

He grinds down on you harder. His hips roll with such force it feels like he's trying to meld you with the ground. The movements draw a longer whine out of you, which in turn sends a rush of arousal through him.

You feel his bulge filling out against your center. It seems larger than ever before. After all these years of marriage, you know what his cock feels like. You've committed every detail to memory, and right now isn't matching up. You wrap your arms tighter around his abdomen out of the instinct to seek comfort from him. He does the same with to you, keeping you flush against his large frame for a few moments.

But then he lets you go. He pulls back and pushes down the remnants of his pants, freeing his cock from its confines. Your eyes nearly pop out of your head at the sight of the engorged shaft. It's longer for sure, but it's so much fucking thicker. His balls look heavier too, hanging proudly beneath.

You don't get much time to examine it because he's back on you in an instant.

"You're gonna take it so well, baby," he mutters against your lips before capturing them in a kiss.

You mewl, overwhelmed by his body all over you and his tongue intruding into your mouth. Kissing back reluctantly, you feel his middle finger slot between your folds and press down. His sharp nail cuts a perfect slit in the damp fabric over your pussy. You shudder as now you can feel the air hitting your slick.

His cock soon interrupts that sensation as he slides it against your wetness. He rocks it up and down through your arousal. You're so hot there, between your thighs. He angles his hips downward and slides his length into you.

You gasp before gritting your teeth. Your fingers clump fistfuls of grass against your palms. He's so much bigger. It's always a stretch, but this feels like the first time all over again. You can't even squirm because his large hands keep a firm hold on your hips.

The new size also affects him. A deep groan rumbles in his chest, and he shoves his face into the crook of your neck. Inch by inch he fills you up completely. It's nearly unbearable by the time he bottoms out. Your lip wobbles and more tears stream down your cheeks freely. They blur your vision, but it doesn't matter much as your eyes flutter anyways.

He can feel the shake of you crying, smell the salt of your tears. Neither make him slow down or stop. He digs his fingers into the dough of your hips harder, keeping you steady as he ruts into you.

"My fuckin' mate. Could never want anyone else," he grunts. He fucks into you a few more times before nipping at your neck and then continuing. "You're ok, baby. You were made for this. Made to take me."

You shriek as a particular snap of his hips shoves the head of his cock right up against your cervix. Cries accompany your tears now. Loud sobs pour from your mouth in a deluge.

He lets you be noisy. The large grassy field behind your house provides the room for you to scream as loud as you need. No one would be bothering you out here. Even if they did, it's not like they could do anything to stop Chris.

Your walls spasm around the veiny shaft that pulls in and out of your drippy hole, desperate to acquiesce to the large intrusion. His rhythm is already so quick. He pistons into you like he's in a rush; like if you're not bred here and now, he won't survive, which isn't far off from the truth.

You feel hot breaths against your throat. They come out quicker than the knocks of his pelvis against your ass. Noises akin to growling scratch at the back of his throat but never fully erupt.

"It's too much!" you finally wail, hoping for some sort of reprieve.

None is granted to you though. More broken sobs explode into the night air, but his face stays planted against your neck just as his cock stays nestled in your cunt.

"It's not too much," he finally mutters after a few seconds, "You're gonna take it all, and then you're gonna take my seed. Gonna take my pups, and you're gonna look perfect doing it."

Your body involuntarily squirms at the notion. You and Chris had both come to the decision that kids weren't for you. With his work and the mileage on your body from your own, the two of you decided to forgo that part of the white-picket-fence fantasy.

Now he's breeding you with dedication you've never seen him give to another task. Sure he isn't himself, but you'd still be yourself if he knocked you up. With all your stresses lately about your marriage potentially falling apart, slip ups with your pills have been happening more often.

It's hard to think any of this though from the way he batters your insides and molds them to his will. Your thoughts fade away in favor of an empty haze where everything is about him. Everything feels soft and dreamy when you let go. You wonder if his mind feels like another version of this.

"That's it. Atta girl. You know you're meant to be a mama, huh?" he rasps as your body melts down into a puddle.

"Chris!" you gasp. Your legs try to wrap around his large waist, but they can't get a good hold with how fast he's moving.

"Keep crying for me, little one," he says.

And that you do. Your fingernails drag down the rippling muscles in his back as you whine and cry. The sensation doesn't affect him at all. There's no hint of pain on his face, not an inkling of discomfort. Arousal floods out of you and around his length as he just keeps going.

"Gonna get you so full. No way it won't take."

Your knees bat at his side, but not out of resistance this time. You just can't control the tremors that take over you. They make your legs seize up and flail.

"So cute..." he grunts, "Your little body working so hard to take it all. Just like it'll work hard at carrying my pups."

Finally, you lose control. You think you cum, but it's hard to tell because you don't come down afterward. Trapped in this never-ending high, your eyes roll back and your body goes limp. White fills your vision just as hot pleasure covers every inch of your skin. He yanks you closer now, humping into your pussy like you're nothing more than a toy for him to play with.

"Good girl. Let it all go. Nothing's better than this. Just doing what you're supposed to. My perfect breeding pet," he growls.

Despite the rest of your body flopping around in his arms, your pussy stays nice and tight. It helps get him there. Each stroke into your heat drags him closer to the edge. He can't stop until he reaches the peak.

When he finally does, he throws his head back and releases with a roar. His muscles tense, his hips moving with the natural desire to breed. He doesn't have to think about anything. His cum spills out of him and into you.

It keeps going for a long time. You're not sure if it's because you're so out of it, but it's the longest orgasm you've seen anyone have. You can feel globs of his seed spilling trying to spill out of you even though he hasn't pulled out.

One last burst shoots against your walls, but then something finally pulls you back to reality. The intense stretch of his knot swelling up. You cry out, eyes widening in panic. Your hands push at his chest haphazardly.

Like every time tonight though, he won't let you go. He holds you on the swollen base of his cock. At least now though, when he's not trapped in the fervor of primal lust, he has the decency to kiss away your tears and stroke your cheeks.

"It's ok, sweetheart. Not much longer. You did so good for me," he whispers before kissing your nose, "Sweet little baby. You took so much didn't you?"

You nod lazily, watery eyes looking to him for reassurance.

"Yes, you did," he coos, "You just have to let it take now, and then you'll be all done."

His body stays true to his word. You don't have the exact time, but it's not too much longer before his knot begins to deflate.

You're relieved when the burn of the stretch begins to recede and fade away. It allows for a hazy sleepiness to take over instead.

Everything fades away. Your eyes droop, turning your vision to black. Vaguely, you feel Chris picking you up and the faint bobbing of steps. You hear the door creak and shut. Then soon, you feel the softness of your mattress beneath you and your blankets draped above you.

The last thing you feel before you shut your eyes is the weight of his bulky arm curling around your body and the heat of his chest against your back.

[loveandleases]

Cam and MC marrying without telling anyone except Aunt Em and G (they're the witnesses), just going to sign the papers, celebrate and then posting a pic of their hands doing a heart showing off the golden rings 💍

Chris 💩 and Co reaction?

Yay for angst. (I only did a reaction for Chris and Jade because any more trash and I’d owe a disposal fee. 😏) 💩 Chris: Pacing, they're pacing. Over and over to the point their feet ache and they worry the carpet will begin to show the signs of their frenzy. How many times have they looked at that photo? Five, no, ten? It's not enough, it's never enough. Chris growls, fist clenched as they slam it against their door, in hope that this pain will outweigh the hollow ache in their chest. It doesn't work. It never fucking works. It burrows, deeper, trying to claw its way out of their throat, threatening to spill over in wet, humiliating tears. "How could they..." The words die on their lips, heavy and jagged. The fight to say them is too pathetic, too painful. Another punch, another clench of teeth. The stinging pain in their hand begging for attention, denied once more. Denied like the acknowledgment of the ache that's tearing them up inside.

"Think, think damn it," Chris' voice shakes, an edge of desperation leaking through as they begin to bite on their nails. Teeth pulling at the skins of their fingers like a nervous habit. "There's still time to have it annulled. I just need to get to them."

That's all Chris needs: time. Just enough to undo this mistake. Because it has to be a mistake.

I know you, I know.

Another wrinkle in Chris' otherwise perfect life. Wrinkles that started when you showed up. When you wormed your way inside and made them feel things they weren't supposed to. Nothing is going to plan. 💀Jade -

She doesn’t say anything at first,her silence cuts far deeper than her words could.Instead, her attention drifts to her manicure. She stretches her fingers out, inspecting them with the utmost care. A cold smile pulling at her lips as her dark eyes take in their color. White, how fitting. For a moment, she wonders what you wore. White, doubtful. It's too classy for you. There—a slight chip at the edge of her acrylic. She clicks her tongue softly, an expression of disappointment entirely unrelated to the news she’s just heard. "Tsk. Can’t they do anything right?"

Internally, she seethes. It’s a slow, simmering fury, kept carefully beneath the surface. She’s not the type to explode; no, Jade’s anger is colder, more calculated. She ignores Chris’s pacing and furious glares as if they're no more than background noise. A tantrum, really. How hard is it to stay still, to know your place, to behave?

This isn’t just a problem for her—or even for Chris. It’s bigger than that. Chris is a Clarke. That name carries weight, meaning, power. And no matter how much Cam says he doesn’t care about it, the reality is, he’s tied to it and now so are you.

Externally, she behaves as though someone has told her there’s a chance of rain tomorrow. Actually, no—that’s not fair. She’d look more affronted by the rain.

There’s always a calm before the storm, that deceptive quiet that makes you think you’re safe. That’s the space Jade inhabits now, a porcelain veneer masking the storm beneath. She feels the challenge in this, the audacity of it. Always seeking to outdo her, to claim the spotlight. Just like before. Now, that simply won't do. Will it?

She rises smoothly, not sparing Chris so much as a glance. Let them have their tantrum, and the next one if it comes to it. Which it usually does. One of them has to handle the situation. With that thought, she reaches for her phone, her voice sickeningly sweet when she speaks. "Well, if it isn't my favorite..."

[bekolxeram]

“10! 9! 8!”

The helicopter hovers in the clear, starry sky.

“7! 6! 5!”

The crowd on the ground joyously counts down, welcoming the arrival of a new year, a new beginning.

“4!”

Tommy turns to face the passenger sitting beside him, “are you ready, Evan?”

“3!”

Buck mirrors the pilots movement, “never been more ready.”

“2!”

They smile at each other, with a bright, hopeful glint in their eyes.

“1! Happy New Year!”

Their lips crash together as the crowd roars in celebration, their connection only broken by the deafening bang of a firework. Buck jolts around, but his expression soon softens up in awe.

The calm, dark night sky has been illuminated by bursts of shimmering gold, right in front of his eyes.

Here.

There.

Here again.

Pops of color are gradually thrown into the mix, turning the simple, elegant light show into a chromatic symphony.

Red.

Blue.

Purple.

“Wow… I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my life,” Buck sighs, still awestruck by the aerial, front-row view to the fireworks.

“I love you, Evan. I can’t wait to start our future together,” Tommy cups Buck’s cheeks with both hands, pulling him in for another gentle kiss.

Something feels wrong to Buck.

“Um… Tommy, who’s flying the chopper?” he stares at the bare cyclic, free from the control of the pilot.

“No one,” Tommy says, a hint of sorrow appearing on his face.

Buck’s blood runs cold.

“What does that mean?”

“It means it’s not real, Evan,” the pilot smooths a thumb over Buck’s cheekbone, “you can’t fly too close to the fireworks in real life, or else you’ll crash and burn.”

“Am I… dreaming?”

“Yeah… it’s a nice one, isn’t it? Too bad you’ll have to wake up soon.”

“Wait, no! I’m staying here, I’m staying here with you,” Buck cries out. “Aw — My head,” a strong dull ache starts pounding his head.

“You can’t.”

“Just… 5 more minutes,” Buck pleads with all his might, fighting against the burn in his throat.

“I’ll see you on the other side.”

================================================

Buck wakes up in a dimly lit room. There’s a hint of familiarity to this place, but he can’t pinpoint it exactly. He can’t even focus for more than 2 seconds due to the throbbing pain in his head.

Feeling his jeans still on, he pats around to find his phone in a pocket. The bright light from the screen stings his dry eyes, after a few seconds to adjust, he sees a column of unread texts from Eddie.

Eddie: What do you mean “where are you”? In El Paso? With Christopher? Eddie: I’m coming back on the 4th. I’ve told you that already, why are you still asking? Eddie: Are you drunk? Eddie: Wait, don’t tell me you’re in my house. Eddie: Why do you have to pick NYE of all days to drunkenly invade my home? Eddie: I’m doing you a favor, you owe me a big one.

Snippets of memories start flooding back all at once. He remembers leaving Maddie’s house shortly after midnight because it was Jee’s bed time, but he didn’t want to go home to an empty apartment, he decided to head to a bar for drinks instead. The more he drank, the lonelier he felt, so he took an Uber to his best friend’s house out of habit.

His memories begin blurring from that point on, but he vaguely recalls breaking down yelling and crying at someone…

“Easy, there’s a bucket next to the bed. You don’t need to get up if you’re feeling sick.”

“Tommy…”

“I brought you an isotonic drink and some painkillers, just in case, but your head should feel better once you get your hydration level back up,” Tommy hands him the bottle and kneels down on the floor, next to the bed.

“How…?” Buck asks after taking a big gulp of the liquid.

“Eddie texted me last night, telling me Christopher wanted to wish me a happy new year over the phone.”

“So… he tricked you?”

“No, he absolutely blasted me for leaving you heartbroken and alone. He said every person in Los Angeles, men and women, would line up just for a chance to kiss you on New Year’s, but you were on your own moping around because of me instead.”

“Eddie?”

“Chris. He told me if I ever believed you weren’t serious about… us, then I would be, and I quote, ‘a fucking idiot’.”

“Oh, he’s all grown up now,” Buck lets out a soft chuckle.

“Um… I was thinking, maybe we could talk? If you want to of course, I understand I have no right to ask you for anything after what I did to you.”

“Later, maybe?”

Tommy nods.

“Can you just stay with me for a while?” Buck lifts up bedspread as an invitation.

Tommy agrees silently by climbing into the bed, lying down on the empty side and wrapping his arms tightly around Buck from behind.

Buck melts into his touch, and slowly drifts off the sleep once again.

[untildawnss]

hungover

just having a bit of fun. i will make up background characters to join the main 10 (names inspired by roles the actors played in other universes).

characters are in college (over 21, so no US underage drinking), it's summer break (idk how college in the US works exactly) and they're having a house party week at one of the washington properties. au in which the original prank and josh prank didn't happen, emily and mike are still together.

wc: 2.1k

ct: drinking, drugs, smoking, mentions of nudity

he woke up, his head feeling like it might explode at any second. his hands were clammy and his cheek was resting against something cold and rough. he rolled over onto his back, hard, the movement sent a wave of pain through his joints. his right arm had fallen asleep and the tingling, buzzing sensation was unbearable. he waited until it subsided to push himself into a sitting position, groaning. his mouth and throat were so dry that swallowing felt like trying to eat sand. he raised his hands, feeling for his glasses that were hanging off the tip of his nose and pushed them back up.

chris immediately regretted opening his eyes. the bright lights and white walls made his head pound. he squeezed his eyes shut again for a few seconds and took a deep breath. when he opened them again the room seemed to spin and shift in and out of focus. he gagged, just barely managing to gulp back the vomit but the vile taste remained on the back of his tongue and his throat was burning now. his eyes were stinging and teary from the sensation, he felt uncomfortably sweaty and sticky. his vision was still blurry and he realised that his glasses were smudged and greasy, so he cleaned them with the hem of his shirt.

he could see clearer now, though there were still streaks on the lenses that irritated his tired eyes and made him squint and blink rapidly. he fought back against his body's urge to vomit once more and looked around the bleak room. it was a small room, the floor concrete, the walls white tile and there was a door with some kind of cutout or flap. and there was... another person?

"josh? hey, josh!" chris shook his sleeping, snoring best friend's shoulder. "josh, wake up! where the hell are we?" - "stop it, stop, i'm up, i'm awake", josh mumbled while slapping his hands away. josh sat up and rested his back against the wall. his eyes were half shut and he looked at chris, grinning. "cochise, my man, what's up?" he was slurring his words and looked tired but seemed to be in a good mood, seemingly not having noticed the situation they were in. "what's up? what's up?", chris sputtered. "i have no idea where we are. i have no idea when we are and this is not your house. what happened last night? i don't- i think i remember, uh, that guy, y'know the one who was your roommate last year..", chris trailed off. "oh yeah, dan, he's still my roommate", josh added. "yeah, that guy, yeah, he, uh, he tried to hit on jess, right? and he was, like, super bummed out when she said no." josh started laughing. "ooh yeah, i forgot about that. i told him if he could get her to make out with him i'd do his chores for two months, if not he has to do mine. buuuuut i know for a fact that jess has been hooking up with his cousin since they met during spring break." chris had gotten up and tumbled and teetered towards the door. "good for her but what happened after and where are we?" he tried the handle but the door wouldn't budge. "i think we're locked in, josh." - " uh yeah, i think we were arrested." - "we were what?"

chris was pacing, trying to ignore the sloshing feeling in his stomach. he hadn't eaten since, since, he didn't even know since when. at some point last night, or he hoped it was last night, for all he knew it might've been longer than a day, he'd shared a pizza with hannah, ashley and some guy called aaron or something. he felt, heard his blood pulsing. it was agony. "what do you mean we were arrested? what for, how, when, WHY?" josh was still on the floor, his elbows resting on his knees, hands gripping the sides of his head. "oh my god, chris, stop yelling, my head's killing me." chris turned to look at him, the effort of trying to remember what happened after josh had tricked this guy daniel into asking out jess had him seeing stars. he could barely think, let alone think coherently. "sorry, man, i'm just.. freaking out. i've never been arrested before." - "neither have i. i just- i just don't think that freaking out is helping us right now." - "then what are we supposed to do?" chris looked around the room again. tilting his head back to look at the ceiling hurt and he barely managed to stay upright while his head felt this heavy. there were no cameras. he didn't know if he was pissed off or tired or annoyed or just everything. but he was thirsty and starving. he knocked on the door. "hey, hello? is anyone out there? we've been in here for ages and we'd really appreciate some water and maybe something to eat."

someone had opened the flap in the door and dumped two small plastic bottles of water into the cell. chris and josh had drained every last drop in record time. no one had talked to them. josh had fallen asleep again but chris was wide awake. anxiety was gnawing at him, taking bites out of the small part of coherency he had managed to put together after the water bottles were dumped in. but that had been, what, an hour ago and since then there had been no other sign of life from the other side of that door. he started pounding his fists on the door again. "hey, HEY! don't we have the right to like a lawyer or something? or just basic human rights like water and food?" there was no answer. he kicked the door. "assholes", he muttered.

he had fallen asleep again. thinking about what ashley or his parents would say when they found out he'd been arrested was exhausting. or maybe ashley already knew. had she been there? maybe she was trying to bail them out. he had tried to count the seconds to have some semblance of an idea of how long he'd been in this cell but he was too tired to stay awake.

chris woke up to the creaking of the door's hinges. the sound sent another bout of stabbing pain through his head, making it feel like his brain was pulsing painfully against his skull. he opened his eyes slowly and saw three shadowy silhouettes walking through the door towards him and josh. "ash?", he croaked at the figure with reddish hair. "hey, chris. it's me. come on, get up." she grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet, slowly. he stumbled a little before leaning on her shoulder. the other two, beth and hannah probably, pulled josh to his feet. "heyyy, it's my baby sisterssss", he warbled, gleefully. yeah, hannah and beth, okay. "are- are we criminals now?" chris was mumbling, inclining his head towards ashley who groaned under the added weight. "n-no, chris, you're fine, everything's okay", she huffed, straining to keep him upright. "sorry", chris shifted, getting his weight off of ashley's shoulder. "i'm fine, i can walk." - "okay, good." ashley smiled at him.

they walked out of the cell, entering a dimly lit corridor. might've been a creepy murder basement straight out of a horror movie if he didn't know this was a police station. josh, beth and hannah were right behind them, the twins whisper-yelling at their brother to move his own damn feet. they reached a staircase and started climbing upstairs. "ash, am-am i a criminal now?" chris' voice was quaking but he was determined to get an answer. "are-are my parents here? what about josh?" ashley glanced at him. "chris, i'm sorry. you're gonna find out soon enough. i can't tell you anything right now." he stopped and turned back to look at beth, josh and hannah. "do you know anything? please, please, tell us! i don't want to go to prison, guys." beth and hannah shrugged and shook their heads. beth reached out to squeeze his hand. "sorry, chris, we don't really know anything. all we know is that we were allowed to come and get you guys from your cell. you might be under house arrest for a while until your trial." josh's eyes fluttered open. "trial? what trial?" his voice was slightly higher than usual. "i'm sorry josh", hannah muttered, her mouth twitching and tears in her eyes. "i'm so sorry. i don't know if there's anything we can do after what happened last night." josh stopped dead in his tracks, almost tumbling backwards down the stairs if the twins hadn't held their firm grip. chris and ashley were now turned around, face to face with the washington siblings. "what do you mean? what the hell happened last night?" chris looked at josh, eyes wide. josh stared right back, just as horrified. they looked at ashley, beth and hannah. all three were looking at each other, avoiding their eyes. "we- we're- we can't really tell you anything", beth blurted out after a minute, maybe five. "you'll just... have to deal with it", hannah added. ashley nodded. "you can't delay this, anyway."

when all five of them reached the top of the stairs, chris and josh did a double take. ashley, beth and hannah were still supporting chris and josh. but they were in the living room of the washington's vacation home. not a police station. not a court room. nothing like that. chris looked back at josh, thoroughly rattled, and josh looked back at him, just as wide-eyed. emily and mike were holding a banner that read 'surprise, bitches', sam and matt were pouring out shots. jess and that guy, daniel, were in the process of lighting candles on an elaborate cake. there were a few more people, who chris met through josh and jess, he thought he remembered the names simon, grant and nina, who were holding and arranging cool bottles of champagne and beer on the table. ashley, beth and hannah led chris and josh towards two chairs facing the table and banner. everyone, apart from emily and mike who were still holding the banner and ashley, beth and hannah who ducked behind them, grabbed, shook and popped a bottle of champagne, aiming them at chris and josh.

chris and josh shielded their faces with their hands for the three, four, five seconds until it was over, barely ready to comprehend what was happening. when the foamy liquid had ceased to spurt from the bottles the others were still holding, josh coughed and sputtered. "what the fuck is going on?" chris wiped his face with his sleeve. "yeah, what josh said." mike erupted in a fit of laughter, almost pulling emily down with him, wheezing. "you should see the look on your faces!" chris and josh looked at each other, slightly uneasy. "no, seriously, what the fuck is happening?", josh's voice still sounded hoarse and croaky from the hours of not speaking. chris was beyond speaking and just looking around wildly at everyone present. "you've been", whispered hannah between their ears. "pranked", muttered sam. "BITCHES!" shouted beth, clapping their shoulders, hard. "GOTCHA!" - "can you please stop yelling?", josh pleaded. "hmm, we could but we still have, like, four more parent and/or supervision free days until we have to go back to being normal young adults/college students." matt was almost cackling at mike's sass. "we just," sam was wheezing, coughing and trying to compose herself "we just want you to know that-", she broke off again, leaning on the table to support herself. "that", emily added, "you're being pranked." chris and josh looked around, both more or less bewildered, at their friends who were doubled over, crying with laughter and still pouring out drinks for everyone.

"i'm so sorry, but", sam giggled, "you honestly deserved this." hannah sidled over. "oh, they definitely did."

josh and chris looked at each other, faces slightly scrunched up, beers in their hands, more than a few shots into this next evening. josh was grabbing chris' shoulder, almost shaking him. "yeah, maybe we deserved it. but what if we pulled an even better prank on them? ever thought about it like that? bet you that i have better ideas than beth and hannah with that drunk tank prank. we're gonna put the fear of god into them all." josh was grinning at chris, mischievously. and you know chris would never say no to a good prank, especially after falling victim to one.

[jaemmphilia]

★ 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 ★ || b.c

★ summary: after chris and y/n share a sloppy moment in chris' office, neither of them can deny the natural chemistry between them. chris, in a moment of confidence and mild lust, asks y/n out on a date. y/n agrees, not once thinking about his ex, shinwon. so why is that loser texting him to meet up while y/n is making out with chris on the couch?

★ characters: bahng christopher, choi y/n, lee minho, seo changbin, hwang hyunjin, han jisung, lee felix, kim seungmin, yang jeongin

★ warnings: language, protected sex (they have decided to be responsible), chan being the absolute cutest, minho being a menace, seungmin being seungmin, jeongin being baby, uhh let me know if i forgot anything

★word count: ~7.4K

★binnie's thoughts: the second part to my chan fic, i felt like i needed to write something softer to balance out the filth of the first part, i hope its as good as the first part lol i also totally switched up the pov for this one, i feel like its better this way

★ disclaimer: this fic in absolutely NO way represents the stray kids members as people. this is just for fun, so don't take it to heart. just enjoy!

read part one here!

After hearing those words come out of Chris’ mouth, you are stunned, his own mouth opening and closing as if he’s trying to find the right words to say. Honestly, what does one say to such a question without coming off as desperate? You decide to just keep it casual, but not so casual that it seems like you’re brushing Chris off. 

“Oh, that sounds nice, actually.” You reply, a soft smile gracing your features as you fix the buttons on your shirt, your head turning to see Chris jumping into his slacks as he pulls them up, his ass bouncing when his feet make contact with the floor. You can’t help but stare, and before you have time to stop yourself, the palm of your hand comes in contact with the bouncy meat. 

The sound that comes out of Chris is a mix of a gasp and a shout. His head whips around to the cause of the slight stinging pain in his back side. You look up at Chris, your eyes a little wide, and your mouth opening to spout a million apologies, but a sweet, nervous laugh stops you. 

“I guess that’s payback for earlier, yeah?” Chris asks, turning his entire body to face you, his perfect teeth on display as he continues to chuckle lightly. You actually think you might explode if Chris continues to be so damn cute. 

The two of you make plans to meet at Chris’ place after you both get off work. You guys exchange contact information (although Chris technically already has your number after he begged Minho for it, Minho finally choked it up after he made Chris tell him whether Jisung was single or not), and you both settled on arriving at Chris’ at seven that night. 

Which leaves you with about four hours to get ready and invite your children over to gossip. You decide to send a simple text to the group chat (which is named knockoff power rangers, courtesy of Seungmin) and you set your phone down, heading to your bathroom to take a shower and clean yourself out. You can hear your phone absolutely blowing up and you just laugh to yourself before taking your well-deserved shower. 

When you get out of the shower, you can hear people talking in your living room, and you’re not even phased by it at this point. All four of your headache-inducing children have a key to your apartment. The spare keys were made by Jeongin, who somehow managed to steal your main house key in order to make the customized versions for the rest of them. (“What if Y/N hyung accidentally cuts his finger again? And then we have no way of getting to him before he passes out?” Jeongin had said, his lips in a pout as he clung to his oldest hyung. To be fair, Jeongin had one too many mimosas that day.)

A sharp voice rings in your ears, and you don’t even need to think about it to figure out who the voice belongs to.  “Choi Y/N you better get your ass down here and explain what the hell happened today!!” Hyunjin shouts, his pouty lips turned down in a small frown.

You quickly slip on some sweatpants and a loose shirt before making your way down the short hallway to the living room. Lo and behold, your friends are all squished on the couch, their eyes wide and transfixed on your figure. 

“Alright, alright, just shut up and let me explain every single detail,” You say, taking a seat on the chair that sits near his couch. And then you begin to tell your nosy friends all about the time you had with Chris in that office just a few hours previous to now. 

By the end of your little rencounter the four male’s jaws were damn near on the floor, shock completely taken over them. Until, Seungmin is the first to speak up: 

“So, did you finally dump that lame ass guy? What was his name? He was so boring that I don’t even remember his name. Why did you even date him?” Seungmin says, his face contorted in a scowl. Seungmin had a vendetta against Shinwon, something about how he was painfully average and not exciting. He claims that it’s a case of “one person in the relationship is way too attractive to be seen with someone who looks like that.”

(“Hyung, you deserve someone sexy and cool, someone completely opposite of you,” Seungmin told you one day, and it took everything in you not to smack the chestnut haired male.) 

“Yeah, Shinwon and I broke up this morning, actually,” You mutter, finding the bracelet on your wrist (Felix made it for you, and you cherish it more than anything in the entire world) way more interesting than looking at the expressions on your friend’s faces. “It was long overdue, I was falling out of love with him, and he kept talking about moving in together and I was getting annoyed and stressed out so I just-” You take a breath, cutting your rambles off short. Felix stands from the couch and takes a few short steps toward you, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. 

“It’s okay, hyung, you don’t have to explain yourself. If you felt that it was right to break up with Shinwon, then we all support your choice.” Felix turns to the other three with a look. “Isn’t that right, guys?” 

The three males all reply with various agreements before you find yourself sandwiched between your closest friends. At this moment, you feel loved, like you’re not alone in this cruel world. With your friends by your side, you feel like you could do anything.

The five males had all met at JYPE, Y/N being the first of the five to start working there. It wasn’t until about half a year later, he met Hyunjin. Hwang Hyunjin, with his long black hair pulled in a half-up hairstyle, his body language confident as he feels all eyes on him, male and female alike. He knew those stares all too well. Stares of want, stares of envy and need. They all saw Hyunjin as someone with a pretty face and no brain. Hyunjin approached Y/N in the break room that following week, making himself comfortable in the chair next to the barely older man. 

“I’m Hyunjin and I’m new here.” the dark haired male said, holding his perfect, soft hand to Y/N. Y/N offered a shy smile before shaking hands with Hyunjin. “You were the only one who didn’t look at me like you wanted to devour me, so I’m sticking with you, now.” That's all it took to seal his friendship with Hyunjin, the two were a dangerous duo. 

Until precious Felix showed the next year. 

Lee Felix, with his adorable freckles and sweet smile, became friendly with everyone in the graphic design department. Felix even managed to befriend a few people from the production department. His energy was contagious, when he’s smiling, you can't help but smile as well. When he has an off day, you yearn for his sweet smile. Felix met Hyunjin before he met Y/N, but the two were introduced very quickly. Hyunjin dragged Felix all the way to Y/N’s desk, desperate to introduce the two of them. When Y/N laid his eyes on Felix, he felt like he had to protect Felix from this harsh company where it's easy to be taken advantage of. From that day forward, their duo became a trio. 

Then, Satan himself showed up just a month later. Nah, just Kim Seungmin, but close enough. 

Y/N’s personal thorn in his side, the devil on his shoulder telling him that he should 100% punch the crying child in the supermarket. Seungmin could be described as a monster disguised as a sweet puppy. Seungmin has this innocent smile that shows off his perfect teeth, his eyes becoming crescents as his face crinkles up. Behind that innocent smile is a man whose default option is verbal violence. Y/N knows that Seungmin means well, he’s just a different type of person. Seungmin was the one to approach Y/N, claiming that everyone else looked too boring and lame to be seen with him. Y/N just cocked an eyebrow at Seungmin and allowed the younger male to leech himself onto him. 

Now Y/N has three little ducks that follow him around, so why not give him one more? 

About five months later, little Jeongin arrives as a fresh new face. He was the youngest person to ever get a job at JYPE, at the ripe age of 19. The poor boy still had braces lining his pearly teeth. The older people of the graphic design department chose Jeongin as their personal butler, making the boy go on numerous coffee runs, printing runs, or just stupid errands that didn’t really need to be done. Y/N watched as they ran Jeongin ragged, not once allowing him to show them why he was hired at a young age. Y/N finally had enough of watching Jeongin get mistreated, so he stood up and grabbed Jeongin by the arm gently and dragged him over to his desk. 

“You’re joining my team, I can’t sit there and let them mistreat you like that.” Y/N said with his eyebrows furrowed, his gaze not leaving Jeongin’s wide-eyed expression. “I can tell you have potential, and I want to make sure that everyone sees that.” 

Jeongin could have cried at that moment, but all he did was bow and thank the older male. Ever since then, the five of them have been attached at the hip. You would think they’ve known each other for their entire lives, rather than just knowing each other only a few short years. They truly are a family and nothing could possibly split them up.

“So, did you agree to his date offer?” Hyunjin asks you, flicking Seungmin on the side of his neck when said male puts his bare feet on Hyujin’s thigh. “If you didn’t, tell him to hit me up.” Hyunjin is the only one who fails to see the way Felix’s demeanor drops, a slight frown settling on his lips. The freckled male receives a soft pat from Jeongin, hoping to comfort him at least a little bit. 

“Of course I said yes, the man gave me the best dicking I’ve had in a long time. Do you really think I’m going to reject him after that?” You say,, giving Hyunjin a pointed look as he rolls his eyes. “We agreed to meet at his place at 7 p.m.” 

“Do you have any idea what you’re gonna wear?” Jeongin pipes up, his brain already coming up with several different outfit combinations that will make his hyung’s physique stand out and blow Chris’ socks off. 

“Not a clue. I was waiting for you four to show up and play dress up with your personal doll,” You reply with a snort as you get up and make your way to the kitchen, preparing to feed Domino, who is currently laid on Seungmin’s lap. 

“Okay, let me raid your closet and put some things together!” Jeongin jumps up quickly and makes his way down the hall to your room, Felix trailing behind him, laughing the whole way there. 

“Does this mean I’m on hair duty?” Hyunjin pipes up from his spot next to Seugnmin, his dark chocolate eyes glued to his phone, scrolling on some social media app. He turns his phone to Seungmin, showing the male whatever is on the screen. 

“I mean, it’s up to you. Do you want to mess with this mane of mine?” You question, setting your cat’s bowl down in its little holder. You noticed that your hair has gotten quite long, and you know you are due for a trim soon, but the longer look is kind of growing on you. You walk to the couch, plopping yourself down in between Hyunjin and Seungmin, propping your legs across Hyunjin’s lap, peeking over to look at the long haired male’s phone. 

“You act like I have no idea how to handle long hair,” Hyunjin tuts, rolling his eyes as he flips his fringe out of his eyes. You watch your friend with a lovingly annoyed look on your soft features. Hyunjin is the definition of a diva and he’s aware of it. Seungmin always jokes around and says Hyunjin is probably a pillow princess, and not once has Hyunjin denied it. It’s honestly becoming less of a joke and more of a reality thing. (It’s hard to miss the way Felix blushes every time Seungmin jokingly mentions Hyunjin in a sexual light, the poor boy is close to exploding every single time.)

“You’re so damn dramatic, Jinnie. Just help me tame my hair, you Barbie wannabe.” You retort, your hand coming up and flicking the blonde’s forehead. Hyunjin lets out an offended noise, turning to you and throwing his entire body on your smaller frame. Seungmin gets kicked in the side and he lets out a yelp, before he pinches the culprit’s calf. You react on instinct and end up kicking Seungmin again with a sharp cry. 

The three of you are wrestling on the couch when Jeongin and Felix come out of the bedroom. The two of them just watch as the three of you poke, pull at, and even bite each other. Jeongin and Felix share a look before Jeongin clears his throat to catch your attention. The three of you stop what you are doing and look up, all three pairs of eyes wide and focused on Jeongin. 

“Hyung, go try on the outfit Lix and I picked out!” Jeongin says, flashing you a sweet smile, his eyes crinkling in excitement. Jeongin is the one person to go for fashion advice. The sweet boy has an eye for fashion just like Hyunjin has an eye for art and photography. “I think you’ll like what we put together! It’s totally your style, hyung!” Jeongin says, his eyes sparkling under the lights of your living room. You can’t help but melt seeing the youngest male smile so brightly. Jeongin deserves the world and so much more. 

You untangle yourself from Hyunjin and Seungmin’s grips as you make your way to your bedroom, only tripping once (“That’s a new record, hyung,” you can hear Seungmin’s voice in your head, already). You take a glance at the clothes on the bed, all laid out and neat. Were all of those items in your closet? How come you don't remember purchasing them? It doesn’t matter, Jeongin and Felix did a great job at choosing your outfit. An oversized navy blue sweater with the words ‘heart stop’ on the front in cursive. A pair of pale blue, baggy jeans with tons of rips in all sorts of places, including the area right under the swell of one’s behind. Next to the sweater is a necklace, one that you haven't seen in a long time. Where did those two sneaky little brats find your mother’s necklace? You pick up the necklace oh-so-gently and examine it with a soft smile on your face. A beautiful silver chain with a charm that looks like the planet Saturn, with a stunning amethyst gem as the planet. A sad smile finds its way onto your face, and a single tear falls from your eye. You wipe it away immediately and take a breath. 

Once you slip on the outfit, you take a look at your appearance in the full length mirror that hangs on your wall. You take in the way the clothes fit on your body. The sweater hangs a little big on your body, but the color flatters your skin tone perfectly. The baggy jeans hug your waist and hips as if there were a pair of strong arms there. You turn your body, looking at the way the jeans make your ass look round and plump. The rips cup the bottom of your cheeks, showing a sliver of soft skin. You just know Chris will get a kick out of them. 

You venture out of the bedroom and into the living room where your friends are. You stand in front of the couch, catching their attention, four pairs of various shades of deep brown roaming your figure. You can’t help but feel your ears get warm as they just stare at you. Seungmin is the first to speak, and you are expecting a smartass comment. 

“Wow, hyung, you actually have stylish clothes? I never would have guessed,” the chestnut haired male lets out an unattractive snort, earning an elbow to the side from Felix. 

“Be nice to him! He looks really good!” Felix says, defending you with a cute pout on his face. Seungmin sends a glare at Felix, holding his throbbing side. 

“I am being nice! I complimented the way he’s dressed!” Seungmin retorts, turning his gaze back to his hyung. Seungmin would rather die than actually compliment you, or anybody for that matter, that’s just how your dynamic is with the younger male. 

“Innie, you and Lix did a really good job with the outfit. Where exactly did you find these clothes, though?” You ask, tilting your head to the right slightly, your hair falling in front of your face. “I don’t recall buying either of these items, if I’m honest.”

“Lix actually found them in the corner of your closet, the tags were still on them, hyung.” Jeongin says matter-of-factly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. You just shake your head and chuckle. Leave it to Jeongin and Felix to find something out of thin air. 

“Well, thanks you guys, I actually like this outfit a lot,” You say, a genuine smile on your face. 

“Honestly, hyung,” Hyunjin starts, holding his phone up to take a selfie, “You could leave your hair as it is, I have a feeling it’s just going to get messed up by the end of the night anyways.” He says, making a valid point. “Besides, the messy look is what drives people crazy, trust me.” 

You take Hyunjin’s words into consideration. Would you and Chris actually do anything tonight? A part of you hopes that you do, but on the other hand, you kind of��feel like it’s a desperate move. As if he could read your mind, Felix speaks up. 

“Hyung, whatever you’re thinking, stop,” He starts, crossing his arms. “Whether you guys do it again or not, doesn’t matter. What matters is that Chris definitely likes you enough to ask you out on a date, instead just being fuck buddies.” 

“I guess so, I just don’t want him to think that I agreed to the date because of the sex, but it’s definitely a plus.” You say, ears warming up at your sudden confession. Talking about such intimate things with your closest friends shouldn’t be weird, because you often tell each other about your sexual endeavors, but you can’t help but get a little flustered. It’s not everyday that you guys are talking about the latest person you’ve hooked up with, but you always feel like a parent finding out their children aren’t innocent virgins. 

“It’ll all go well, hyung,” Felix says, his words making you feel a little more relaxed. Felix knows you like an open book that he’s read a million times. Felix must have a radar that goes off when he feels like his hyung is about to spiral into overdrive. “We’ll stay here during the date and if it doesn’t go well, at least you’ll have plenty of shoulders to cry on.” Felix finishes speaking, flashing you one of his bright smiles that makes his gorgeous brown eyes disappear behind his lids. 

“I hope you’re stocked up on tissues, crybaby hyung,” Seungmin pipes up from his spot on the couch, his body being squashed by Hyunjin, who is laid out on top of the male. You roll your eyes and shake your head. Although Seungmin makes you want to commit violent crimes, you know that Seungmin means well. You check your phone, looking at the time. You have plenty of time to freak out before you have to head to Chris' apartment. 

Chris is freaking out. He’s going absolutely feral. He stares at the third failed beef wellington. He lets out a heavy sigh before grabbing his phone, calling the one person who actually knows something about cooking. 

“Oh, this better be good,” Minho’s light voice comes through the speaker, a humorous tilt in his voice. “Did you end up canceling on him because he’s ‘just so pretty, Minho!!’” Minho’s laugh fills Chris’ ears, making the blonde roll his eyes. He’ll let Minho have his fun for now. 

“Very funny, you must think you’re sooo hilarious.” Chris says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He really doesn’t have time for Minho’s silly little scorpio games, he wants to impress his long time crush so desperately, and Minho is quite literally the only person who can help (he doesn’t dare ask Jisung or Changbin, that’s off the table, not even an option). 

“I actually don’t think I’m hilarious,” Minho replies, and Chris already knows what the younger male is going to say. “I know I’m hilarious.” 

“Yes, yes, you're the funniest person in the world. Now can you please help me?” Chris can’t help the warmth that crawls up his neck. He can’t help the blatant desperation in his voice. He hates asking for help of any kind, genuinely believing that he can do things on his own. This situation is different, though. He wants to make sure this date is absolutely perfect for you. 

Chris doesn’t want to look like a loser in front of the male he’s been crushing on since they both entered the company so many years ago. Sporting large glasses and your hair in a shorter style, you looked like the nerdy boy next door in a cheesy rom-com movie. Or the innocent member of an idol boy group. You didn’t really radiate the same confidence that you do now, your body language no different than an animal on edge. You often spoke in a soft tone, your voice easily getting lost in conversation. As the years went on, you became more comfortable in yourself, and you carried yourself completely differently. You ditched the chunky glasses for a pair of contacts (sometimes you  would sport thin wire glasses, and Chris swears his heart would leap out of his chest cavity every time the two of you happened to lock eyes), and you let your hair grow out. You had friends, you were smiling more. You could easily command a room by your presence alone. You went from a timid, almost invisible person, to someone who refuses to be walked all over like a doormat, and Chris falls more in love with you each time. 

“Holy shit, you sound desperate. What’s going on?” Minho pipes up from the other side of the phone, his playful tone being thrown out of the window. Minho might be the friend who jokes around too much, and is hardly ever serious, but he can always tell when something isn’t right with his friends (Jisung calls it his “Lino Sense” and Minho melts when Jisung points this out.).

“I’m making beef wellington for Y/N and it’s not going well. I’ve made it three times already, and I'm so close to losing my damn mind, Minho.” Chris says, his words jumbling together, and Minho can hear him huffing from how fast he was speaking. “I just don’t know what I’m doing wrong.” Chris’ voice trails off, a sad sigh leaving his lips. 

“Alright, give me, like, five minutes,” Minho says, and Chris can hear the jingle of keys in the background. Was Minho really coming over to help? Chris could kiss the heavens above him. 

“Ohmygod Min, you’re a lifesaver, I could kiss you,” Chris cries out, feeling the stress leave his body as quick as it came. 

“No thanks, Chris. We’ve done that once and we both hated it,” Minho says, shivering as he remembers the time he had kissed his best friend and how quickly he realized he was not attracted to the older male in that way. “Save the kissing for Y/N, yeah?” 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right, uh, see you soon.” Chris feels his face get warm, unable to keep his mind off the way your lips had felt on his just a few hours ago. He wants to shove his face in a pillow and scream while kicking his feet like a teenager in the 80s movies he watched with his parents. 

Just as he promised, Minho barged into Chris’ apartment, his hands carrying a bag with a logo matching the convenience store’s just down the street. Minho looks at the blonde, taking in his appearance. His clothes are covered in various ingredients, and Minho can quite literally see carrot shavings in Chris’ blonde tresses. 

“Alright, here’s what we’re gonna do, Channie,” Minho says, catching Chris’ attention at the nickname. It isn’t often that his friends use his nickname, and it catches him off guard each time. “You are gonna go and take a long, hot, shower, and I’m gonna make the beef wellington for you.” 

Chris’ eyes go wide. He just might cry right now. Minho is his savior, a real knight in shining armor. Although, this knight is wearing sweatpants and a large shirt. Close enough. Chris pulls his friend into a hug, not exactly knowing how to thank him. Minho seems to get the idea, because he pats Chris’ back with a breathy laugh. 

“Alright, loverboy, go shower. You smell like raw beef and desperation.” There’s the Lee Minho that Chris knows and loves dearly. With a laugh, Chris makes his way to his bedroom, opening his dresser drawers and taking a peek inside. 

Black, black, black, and even more black. He huffs at his lack of color wardrobe. Of course, there’s a bit of white and gray in there, but other than that, it’s just… black. He closes the drawer and goes to his closet. There has to be something a little colorful in there, right?

Chris lets out a triumphant noise after digging deep in his closet for about three minutes. He tosses the deep red shirt onto his bed, a gift from his grandmother when he went to visit her in Australia about two years ago. He really hopes it still fits. Ever since his last trip to his homeland, Chris has hit the gym with Changbin and Jisung, the three of them bulking up rather quickly. Especially Changbin. Chris grabs his best pair of skinny jeans, a pair of black (are we even surprised?) jeans with various words painted on them. Once he tosses the jeans on his bed, he steps into his bathroom to take a shower. 

As he steps out of the steamy shower, the smell of meat hits his nose. Chris swears he starts drooling at the smell. It smells ten times better than his three attempts combined. He quickly slips on his clothes and takes a look in the mirror. 

Oh. The shirt, well, certainly fits. Maybe a little too well. It’s pretty tight, the sleeves wrapping around his biceps nice and snug. The fabric stretches a little across his chest, showing the outline of his impressive pecs. He just chuckles and shakes his head, making his way to Minho. 

Minho’s eyes fall on Chris as the male enters the kitchen. He gives a whistle and an approving nod. 

“Looks like all that working out has paid off, huh?” MInho says, busy stirring some sort of sauce in a pot. “I just have a feeling Y/N will jump your bones immediately.”

“As much as I would love that, that’s not exactly my goal here,” Chris says, leaning over on the counter. “I want to actually make sure he has a good night with me, and if it gets intimate, then so be it.” 

“Wow, you’re way more whipped than I thought.” Minho says, fake gagging as he continues cooking. He acts like he hates romance but deep down, he genuinely wishes for a relationship. 

“I don’t want to hear you talk. I have dirt on you, my friend.” 

After Minho finishes cooking, he bids Chris goodbye, demanding that he gets the tea on how everything went. Left alone with his thoughts, Chris decides to tidy a little before you show up. He sprays the living room area with some light freshener, making sure to spray his couch as well. 

Just as he was done tidying up around his living room and shutting the door to his bedroom, a notification from his phone shakes him out of his cleaning spree trance. A text message from ‘Y/N &lt;;3’ stares back at him. 

‘Hey, uh… I don’t know which apartment building is yours… I think I’m lost’

Chris can’t help but chuckle at the text. He quickly types a response and decides to stand outside his apartment to help you find the right place. He closes his eyes and feels the soft breeze of the night blow through his still-drying locs. He prays to every single god that this night goes smoothly. This is his only chance to completely swoop you off your feet. 

He hears footsteps approaching him, so he opens his eyes. He feels his breath hitch as his eyes fall on the male standing beside him. You’re standing there in all your glory, and you give him a small smile and a wave. The light makeup makes your E/C eyes pop, the black liner accentuating the shape of your eyes perfectly. And is that a soft red tint on your lips? Yeah, poor Chris isn’t going to survive the night.

Chris finally snaps out of his lovesick daze and gives you one of his dazzling smiles. “Hey, I’m glad you made it! Even if you got a little lost.” He chuckles. You give him a shy smile and a nod. 

“Yeah, I hope I’m not late, the makeup was kind of a last second decision.” 

“I think it looks really good on you. Let’s go inside, I just finished dinner.” Chris’ hand wraps around your waist from behind, guiding you into his apartment. 

The two of you finish dinner after a while and are nursing glasses of cocktails made by you just using ingredients you found in Chris’ kitchen. The two of you are laughing as soft music from Chris’ playlist plays in the background. You’re both facing each other as you tell embarrassing stories from your childhood and various college shenanigans. 

“There’s no way you swam naked in the campus’ fountain! I can’t imagine you doing anything like that!” Chris’ eyes are wide as he looks at you after you tell him about one of your many drunken moments in college. 

“Yeah, I was always down to do crazy dares, as long as I had a couple shots in me first.” You reply,, setting your now empty glass down on the coffee table in front of the couch. Your gaze falls on Chris again, your eyes flitting down to Chris’ lips for the millionth time that night. You so desperately want to feel those very lips kissing all over your body. 

“If you want me to kiss you, you have to use your words, pretty boy.”  

Your entire body warms up at the way Chris speaks to you. Firm, but not demanding, like he’s going at your pace, afraid to scare you off. You waste no time, opening your mouth to speak. 

“Chris, will you please kiss me like crazy, and never stop even if I can’t breathe anymore?” You say, your body moving to plant itself down on Chris’ lap. You wrap your arms around Chris’ neck, the two of you leaning in to connect your lips together. 

This kiss is totally different from the one you shared in Chris’ office. This kiss is softer and contains feelings that go way beyond just lust. Of course the lust is there, but it’s more of a soft lust. Your lips mold together with Chris’ as if they were made to, your noses slightly bumping together, and your tongues gliding against the other, tasting sweet alcohol. Chris’ hands slowly move from your hips all the way down to your ass. Chris is pleasantly surprised when he feels warm skin, and slips his hands inside the rips of your jeans. You jump a little, feeling Chris’ cold hands on your bare skin. 

Just as Chris pulls away to plant kisses and bites all over your neck, a phone notification makes the both of you pause and look at each other. You share a confused look before the two of you are grabbing your phones to see who got the text. You groan when you look at your screen. 

Why is your (very very recent) ex boyfriend texting you to meet up and talk things out? Did he not get the message this morning when you broke up? Before you have a chance to type a reply to Shinwon, Chris’ voice stops you. 

“Hey, what’s so important on your phone that you stopped kissing me?” There’s a cute pout on Chris’ face, and his eyes are glued to your face. He doesn’t appreciate someone interrupting this little make out session. 

“Well, it’s my… ex boyfriend,” you say nervously, not wanting to look up and see the expression on Chris’ face. Would he be upset? Disappointed? 

“Is he bothering you? I can tell him off for you. He’s kind of messing up our night, here.” Chris says, sounding completely serious, taking you by surprise. He… wasn’t upset that your ex was ruining the romantic night? 

“I mean, you don’t have to, but maybe…” you finally look up at Chris with a mischievous glint in his pools of your E/C specks and swirls. 

“Maybe what, pretty boy?” 

“Mark my neck and take a picture. I’m sure he’ll get the idea.” 

Chris does not hesitate for a second before his mouth is on your neck, his teeth biting and nibbling all over the soft flesh, while his tongue glides over the bites, softly soothing the delicious burn. The soft noises that come out of your mouth lets Chris know that he’s doing something right. The noises get louder as Chris gets closer to the spot just under your ear. This must be your most sensitive spot. Deciding to test out his theory, Chris bites down on the spot, earning a beautiful whine from you. 

Once Chris decides that he’s marked you enough, he takes the phone out of your hand and quickly snaps a picture. He sends the photo to Shinwon, and types a quick message:

‘Sorry, mate. Looks like he’s a tad bit busy right now. Maybe you shouldn’t text him again, yeah?’

Once the message is sent, he tosses your phone away after turning the ringer off, hoping the device won’t interrupt you guys for the remainder of the night. He turns his attention back to you, who is looking at him, lust clouding and swimming in your eyes. The sight makes Chris’ heart swell, knowing that those eyes are directed at him and him only. This is everything he’s ever wanted, he feels like all of his prayers have been answered. He plans on making the moment last, not wanting to waste a single moment. 

Chris suddenly stands up, his arms wrapped around you as he lifts you up. You let out a shocked noise, your legs automatically wrapping around the older man’s waist. 

“Warn me next time, Chris! You can’t just flaunt your strength by picking me up!” You slightly slap at his back, allowing yourself to be carried to what you assume is Chris’ bedroom. 

Chris just laughs as he walks to his bed until his lower thighs meet the edge. He semi-carefully tosses you onto the bed, staring down at the way your body bounces on the bed. You just pout up at Chris, offended that you were just tossed like a sack of potatoes. 

“Sorry, pretty boy, I had to move us to the bed. I don’t like when the couch gets messy.” He shrugs, speaking with such nonchalance, it kind of surprises you. 

“So, I’m not the first person you’ve wined and dined?” you know you’re not, you just want to mess with Chris a little bit. Chris isn’t the only one allowed to tease around here. 

Chris lets out a snort, and he climbs on top of the bed, hovering over your frame. He leans down and places a soft peck on your lips. “Would you believe me if I said you’re the first?” 

Now those words really catch you off guard. That’s impossible. Chris, the very definition of a god, has never brought anyone home? There’s no way. 

“I’ve only ever had one person on my mind. For many years..” Chris says, and the words linger in the back of your  mind. Chris couldn’t possibly be talking about you, right? Why would Chris like someone like you? You are known to be unapproachable, the  natural scowl on your face driving people away from you (besides your current group of friends). 

“I know what you’re thinking: you’re wondering why I like you. I’ll be honest, I’ve liked you ever since the moment we both stepped into the JYPE building all those years ago.” 

Now you feel like an idiot. You could’ve had the hottest man alive as your  boyfriend, but you felt that Chris was more into… women. You really fumbled the bag on this one. You can hear Seungmin cackling at you in your head. 

“So, you’re telling me that I could have had you all to myself but you never spoke up about it?” You cock one of your eyebrows as you stare up at the man on top of you. Chris looks amazing from this angle, his strong arms next to your head, ultimately caging you in. “I had to date other people while my mind was focused on you all this time.” 

“I’m sorry for not speaking up sooner, I really had no idea how to approach you without things getting awkward,” Chris explains, obviously referring to the time the two of you attempted to have a conversation at the company Christmas party. 

You give him a cheeky grin. “Why is that? Were you intimidated by my good looks?” You joke, tilting your head to the side as your eyes roam over Chris’ sharp facial features. 

Chris gives you a sheepish smile, his eyes flitting from side to side to avoid your gaze. “Actually, yeah,” he says, a short laugh coming from him.

Your eyes go wide in surprise. Now this is news to you. You always saw Chris as someone with confidence spewing out of every part of his entire being. 

(“Hyung, he’s a man who walks like he’s six foot tall, when he’s actually below average. How much confidence could he possibly have?” “Seungmin, disrespectfully shut the fuck up.”)

“Christopher, if you don’t kiss me and take off my clothes right now, I might go insane.”

This is too much, it feels way too good to even be real. You and Chris are both naked, and Chris is buried in between your plush thighs. Chris’ fingers are digging into your soft muscle as he holds them apart. (As much as he would love to be crushed in between those thighs, he needs to get his dick wet first.) You let out a delicious whine, your back arching as Chris’ tongue slips and slides all around your length.You’re drooling all down your chin as you shake and writhe under the intense pleasure.You’ve  already been denied an orgasm once, Chris squeezing the life out of your length tightly with a shake of his head and a pitiful look. 

Chris pulls away and looks up at you, adoring the fucked out look on your face. He wipes his mouth and moves his body flush with yours, his tongue coming out of his mouth to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. The two of you swap spit for a few minutes before Chris is pulling away, lifting his body up to rummage through his bedside drawer. He pulls out two items, placing them to his right. He sits on his heels in between your spread thighs, and he grabs your thighs, pulling your body close until your lower halves are flush against one another. 

Chris picks up the small bottle that is sitting at his side, he pops the cap open and allows an even amount of the liquid to coat his fingers. The soft smell of vanilla hits your nose and you smile to yourself. Chris brings his hands in between your cheeks, his fingers circling around your rim, before one of the slim digits pushes past your hole. You let out a soft sigh as his finger slides in and out of you. 

Soon enough, a second finger pushes past your ring of muscle, joining the first one, the digits stretching you open perfectly. You toss your head back against the pillow as Chris’ fingers rub and prod at that spot deep inside you. Once he deems you stretched enough, he slips his fingers out, wiping them on his bare chest. He grabs that familiar gold package and tears it open with his teeth, not once breaking eye contact with your lust-filled E/C eyes. He moves back just a little, rolling the rubber onto his thick length. Grabbing a pillow, he places it under your lower back, your hips being raised just a bit, also giving better access to your awaiting heat. 

He pumps his dick in his hand a few times before he’s sliding the tip into you. He lets out a shaky sigh as he slowly slides all the way in, allowing himself to bottom out. Chris looks at your face, the sight of your eyes closed tight and your mouth open, short puffs of air exiting. He smirks to himself, feeling proud that he’s the one making you feel like this. Once he feels like you have adjusted to him, he snaps his hips forward, meeting yours in the middle. 

He moves his body so he’s hovering over you once again, not once stopping his thrust, keeping at the same pace. He leans down and captures your lips, swallowing the noises coming out of your lips. After a little bit of kissing, he picks up the pace, the tip of his dick hitting that tasty spot dead on with every thrust. You’re going crazy under him, chanting his name like it’s the only thing you’ve ever known. Chris loves the way his name falls past your lips, it makes him want to tattoo the sound in his brain to be replayed over and over.

(“That sounds absolutely stupid, why are you like this, hyung?”)

“Chris,” You pant out, your chest heaving up and down as your hips start to shake from the overwhelming pleasure you’re being succumbed to. “I’m close, so close!”

Chris just chuckles, grabbing your legs and throwing them over each of his shoulders. This new angle allows him to absolutely drill into you with sharp, quick thrusts. He pounds into you, his own hips beginning to stutter and skip, chasing his own release. 

“Come on, pretty boy, show me how good I’m making you feel,” Chris pants out, his chest and neck a bright shade of red as he tosses his head back, high pitched moans falling from his lips. Chris brings his hand to your length, jerking it in time with the thrusts of his hips. It isn't much longer before Chris spills into the condom, curses leaving his lips. You end up following not long after him, the white liquid coating Chris’ hand and your stomach. The two of you stay like that for a moment, coming down from such an intense moment. You let out a breathy laugh, bringing your hand up to brush the hair sticking to your forehead. Chris lets his heavy body fall on top of you, causing you to huff. You wrap your arms around him and place tiny pecks on his bare shoulders. 

“That was so much better than this morning,” Chris says, his voice slightly muffled by your neck. You agree with him, this morning was definitely rushed and desperate.

 “So, since we’ve already gone to second base, why don’t we make this official?”

[quohotos]

what's something you would want to see in an animated adaptation of the underland chronicles?

Oh BOY where to begin?

These are going to be in no particular order...

Each trailer should have the prophecy read out in a dramatic voice. The trailer for the first one will go "And eight will be left when we count up the dead" and then a quick montage of some pretty scary shit happening but the cuts are too fast to see what's actually happening. The only exception to this is the marks of secret where the fact that the song is a prophecy is a reveal (however the song plays in full in the trailer, it's just structured different from the others)

The animation should be a little edgy. Give things hard angles, stay away from the bulbous smooth (Modern) Disney look.

Really go nuts with the bat designs. Embrace the warrior cats OC-ness of it. Let all the background bats be just as vibrant and wacky as the main cast.

Everyone's bond should sorta look like them, kinda the way that dogs kinda look like their owners. Solovet's bond should look like a total villain. Euripides should look like Vikus. I mean, Aurora's got that gold thing going on which Luxa also has with the crown. The bonds gotta look like they belong together spiritually.

The nibblers need to have more of a role before the marks of secret. Have them in the background of other shots, have them actually get lines in the jungle, see if they can be more present at the council discussing the plague, write some new scenes for them, etc. I wouldn't even be against them inventing a new nibbler character and putting them on one of the earlier quests. The audience should already know and care about them before we see them being horribly brutalized in a reenactment of a real world genocide.

Ares, and all the other bats for that matter, need to have very expressive eyes. They don't always get a lot of lines so they should still have a way to have visible presence in the scene's that they're in.

Every time the bats do that thing where they detect rats and their ears shoot up it should play a musical sting

All the underland creatures/factions should have their own leitmotif. Ripred's lieitmotif should be this uncanny blending of both the rat's theme but also with hints of the Regalians and Gregor's. After Gregor think's that boots has died in the labyrinth there should be this super dramatic and gutwrenching theme, and then all the music just stops for the rest of the movie until they reunite and then the music can come back. The most you get is like a minimalist drum and base sequence, but nothing properly melodic until we know that boots is safe.

The sequence Gregor escaping with Ares and Pearlpelt from the labyrinth should be all in one take.

Every time Gregor slips into the Rager state it should be accompanied by a recognizable sound effect sting and have it's own sound effect and muscial sting. Something like glass shattering mixed with reverb and pitch shifted down. Rager sequences should be in first person and show just how much he's dissociated from the violence he's doing. The audience just sees that split vision with all the weak points highlighted and one by one they get crossed out.

I hope they cast someone appropriately nasally to play Ripred, I think he should be a little high pitched and scrungly. However, I would make an exception if they somehow got Kieth David to voice him. I would be very unsatisfied if they cast Ryan Reynolds

I hope they cast someone with a deep voice to play Ares. He needs to be big and imposing and scary. He needs to be like the big kid at the playground. The fact that there's a more pained sensitive side to him needs to be a revelation. He needs to be a bit monstrous so you can understand why everyone sees him that way, and why he's dying not to be seen that way but has basically given up and accepted how the world sees him. I would be very Unsatisfied if they cast Ryan Reynolds. It would be fucking hilarious if they cast Chris Pratt... I would hate it but it would probably work and that makes me very mad.

I don't really care how Gregor is cast. Caleb McLaughlin would be a perfect Gregor, but he's all grown up now. He could probably still voice him but it wouldn't be the same. I do not care so long as it's not Ryan Reynolds.

Please don't have anyone call Gregor "Greg"... that just feels wrong. Well maybe Ripred would do it specifically to piss him off.

Henry needs to have a dumb haircut, like... it has to be stupid and ostentatious.

The audience should get to see Ripred from close to Gregor's perspective often. Have the camera right over his shoulder and tilted up to see just how tall this beast is.

Let us see more of the happy times that are alluded to at the start of the marks of secret. Even if it's just a montage, let us see them being normal. Let us see Gregor and Ares play that ball game and see the kids just hanging out. Please 😭

Make Gregor more talkative. There's great moments of internal monologue that could be lost in a screen adaptation, let him talk to Ares or Luxa or even temp about it.

In the code of claw Ares should go with him to the prophecy room to learn that he's going to die. Gregor should tell him about the stone knight and it can be something they share. You can even set it up with them doing the bond handshake there while laying on the floor so that it's a visual callback later (Fuck, I just thought of that and now I'm destroyed again).

I mentioned this in another post, but I think it would be cool to have Gregor get a walkman or other battery powered music player from the museum. They can have a few tunes to bond over, but eventually they have to take the batteries out to put them into flashlights.

A huge missed opportunity in the books is how basically every single human in the Underland we see is royalty or part of the military. I think it would be cool to let us see a bit more of how the regular people live. Maybe have one or two characters who aren't royal or soldiers.

Earlier entries should try to cut away from the violence, simply showing the character's reactions to the horrible things happening around them. Later entries should stop hiding it, paralleling the loss of innocence of the characters. By the code of claw Gregor and Ares, or at the very least Ripred, should be allowed to swear. There's no way you're getting that story on screen without at least a PG 13 rating, and these people just witnessed a genocide and are about to kill a bunch of people in a war. Gregor can say "Holy shit" instead of "aww Jeez" at least once. I also just think "What's your plaaaaaaan" is great but "What's your fucking plan?" lands pretty hard as well.

Don't make the underland too visible. Don't add global illumination. Let there be darkness, let there be long shadows, let us only barely see distant things. When Gregor finally gets echolocation then make the distant things visible through a strange shader... but cut out the bit where he can echolocate heat that makes no sense.

Ms. Cormaci needs to sound exactly like how she did in the audiobook, this isn't up for debate.

When the Bane calls Gregor and Ares to battle it needs to be one of the most disturbing, blood chilling things the audience has ever heard. It needs to be loud, and painful, and monstrous. You gotta see that the pup we all loved and coddled has fully lost it and become this fascist ball of hatred and murder and violence. It should cut through the audience's core and silence everything else in the scene. Just have it hold there after he's shouted, showing them locking eyes on each-other and cutting back in between the two. Yes, the Bane has completely been subsumed as a symbol of his side, but so has Gregor. He's in the black armor, he's the figurehead as well. There are parallels, y'all.

Let the Shiners be at least 20% less awful. They're funny, but let them have their hero moment where they're redeemed in the marks of secret rather than saving it for the end of code of claw.

Old Hamnet in the flashbacks to the flooding of the garden should be hot. Flashback Ripred who was there is of course also hot. He remains so in the present as well.

The narrative that Gregor is told in the first book, that the natives just let Sandwitch have the Underland because they weren't really using it... it's heavily implied that's a lie, especially after we learn about the Diggers and how they were genocided and basically expunged from history. I think there should be a direct callback to it, make this implication an explicit part of the story.

Give my girl Aurora some more lines. She goes on all these adventures and never gets to be more than "Luxa's bat".

Oh no I hit character limit for this post... uh... I have a lot of thoughts and I probably will have more in the future 😅. Probably way more than you asked for but you opened the floodgates and this was the result.

Thank you for the ask!

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

I am such a sucker for your supernatural AUs (and/or preternatural as the case may seem to be with Long Death and go and kill, go and die? haha)

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

🧟‍♀️🧟‍♀️🧟‍♀️🧟‍♀️🧟‍♀️🧟‍♀️🧟‍♀️

🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮

THANK YOU! They are so much fun to write.

21 for 🩸:

---

“You think they’ll change the laws?” Eddie asks.

“Maybe,” Buck says. “It’s, uh, it’s technically discrimination, right? So they might. A-and, we don’t know that whoever infected you won’t… You know.”

Well, yes. In fact. Eddie does know. That isn’t going to happen. 

“I can’t wait for that, though,” Eddie tells him gently. “I have to figure it out, as if this is the permanent scenario.”

Because it is. 

“I know,” Buck kisses his collarbone. “I just don’t want you to lose hope.”

Eddie smiles at him, a little wistfully. 

“I have a lot of hope right now, actually.”

That seems to wipe the hesitation off Buck’s face. 

“Good. Good, that makes me happy.”

---

21 for 🧟‍♀️:

---

Two weeks ago. They both got sick. Concerningly sick. For three days, Eddie had to barricade them in an abandoned motel room while their bodies fought off illness, and hoped to god nothing attacked while he was too weak to defend. It was horrible. Chris was in agony. He dehydrated much quicker than Eddie and he didn’t understand why he was so sick. 

After that, as soon as he felt up to it, Eddie had risked breaking into a Cabela’s to search for iodine. 

The time before that - the third time - had been a zombie. A singular one, but one that might have killed Chris all the same. They’d been in New Mexico. Chris had been feeling restless. Bored of travel. They’d driven through what seemed like a completely abandoned town. A tiny hamlet to begin with, it only had a small little playground outside a small school building that would have brought in rural kids from out of town. The playground was low to the ground and accessible, and in an effort to appease his son, Eddie had parked the truck and spent a few hours playing. 

It was the middle of the day. Warm and bright. They should have been safe. At one point, Chris was on the swings. He insisted he could handle it on his own, that he didn’t need Eddie to push him.

---

21 for 🔮:

---

“N-no. No! Of course I don’t!”

“Then why are you sorry?”

Buck’s throat feels thick. “I’m sorry you saw that. I wasn’t… I didn’t handle it well.”

Bobby’s expression twists with a sort of pain. “I thought you did the best you could, given the circumstances.”

Buck swallows. He thinks if he tries to speak again, he’ll cry. 

There’s another long, drawn out silence between them. Neither of them knows how to address the many elephants crowding the cramped hallway they’re standing in. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Bobby asks after a moment. 

Buck could laugh. 

“No!” He admits, eyes stinging. “Obviously not, Bobby! I’m pretty freaked out!”

[your-local-baguette]

Chris prince x reader

Warnings: cussing ? Angst maybe ?

The sound echoed over and over, the ball hitting your wrist again and again. It hurts...

" ANOTHER ONE!"

You yelled across the gym, in which your teammates slammed another curving ace toward you. You knee slid on the ground as you used your left foot support you body, the volleyball hitting the reddened area of your colliding wrists. You hissed at the stinging sensation, when the receive failed, you groaned and let your body fall on the cold ground, letting out heavy breath.

Your teammate quickly made their way to you, their head popping in your vision, you huffed." Thanks" they nodded before walking away" dont you overwork yourself, either way im dragging you out the gym" you sighted in defeat, lazily dragging your body up. Slow steps towards the changing rooms, massaging your shoulders on the way.

You closed the metal door of the gym not expecting anything, well yea, nothing ever goes you way anyway." Hii love!" A muscular blondie said, opening his arms, hoping to receive a hug. You lived up to his expectations, wrapping your arms around him, not even a second that he lift you up with ease. Spinning you around before letting your feets touch the ground again, now resting his cheeks on the top of your head. Its barely if he could, because you were like only two inches shorter than him. After his long awaited hug he pushed you on your lower back insisting you follow him. " Where are we going ?"

" im taking you to boue lock"

" is that allowed ?"

" i...managed."

Flashback.....

" i'll get on my knees please let me bring them here."

The jumanji egg( ego ) looked at him weirdly before sighing giving in.

He let out a little scream of joy before running out.

End of flashback

" uh ok"

...

" im guessing your tram doesn't know about this ?"

You asked, striking up a conversation.

" huuuh. They somehow found out. So try not to worry too much about that. Most of them are very respectful"

You nodded.

The car pulled in the parking, you and chris got out, you just dribbled a volleyball, these were some of the very rare occasions when it was silent with Chris. You walked at the same rythm, your steps synchronised, the halls silent before well sound of balls getting kicked ( get your mind outta the gutter ) and loud cheering. You both arrived in a stadium where a team was practicing, not very seriously but still practicing.

A ball came flying to your face which you stopped easily, throwing back toward them. Chris chuckled at your reflexes, dragging to a chair, you sat next to him, to his displease. Wish these kids weren't here and he could gave you on his lap but like the jumanji egg said' no intimate interaction'

.....

Hcs part. That because the volleyball wasn't included the way i wanted it to be.

Adores playing with you

Litteraly screams for cheering at your match

Supportive. Supportive. Supportive.

Has a copy of your team jersey with your number. Cuz yours does not fit him lol.

He had a hard time understanding how to do an underhand receive. Like why you gotta fold your thumbs over your palms. Cant you just have your hands interwined together. Side note: his thumbs pained him for five day straight.

Come to every.single.match

Does not understand how you can jump so high. Like do you remove gravity!?

Does the bandaging around your fingers/ hands.

You showed him an ace( the service ) and he was s.t.u.n.n.e.d.

Secretly practices against a wall.

Learned how to float serve just for you.

At this point more passionate than you🤨

Bought you ticket to your favorite team.

Got you a custom volleyball with your fav movie/series character on it.

You have a ton of equipment at home for volleyball.

Plays with you everyday.

If you ever have a child he wants them to learn football and volleyball ( volley when older tho )

An absolute sucker for a focused you

Hope you all enjoyed. Feel like this would also go well with lavinho. Talking about him;

I will prob do the three most popular cuz im obsessed with this man. So yea. Have a nice day. If it doesn't get enough vote i will redo it on another post cuz these are prob gon take a good amount of time. Bye bye!

[sevasey51]

I hate my brain

—————

Paring: Chris Evans x daughter! reader

—————

Warnings: Emetophobia,mentions of vomiting, pain medication, talk of needles, soft! Dad chris, mentions of operations and medical stuff.

—————

So this is based on my experience with migraines and how they’ve blossomed from just a normal headache to this it’s a little journey down painful memory lane for me :)

—————

It wasn’t an unusual thing for you to have migraines all the time that gradually turned to this from tension headaches. Finding the root cause was hard for you, your family and your neurologist because it got that bad that you had to be referred to try and find why they were happening. Let me tell you it wasn’t a fun time, you got glasses to help with the tension headaches since it was something to do with your eyes when you had an operation when you were 8 years old, it was one of the side effects.

Time skip to 8 years later a load of medication, appointments and the burst of hormones from 11 it really messed it up a little or maybe a lot you couldn’t decide still.

It was early morning, you couldn’t stop think you were going to be sick until you were kneeling over the toliet in the hallway bathroom hoping there wasn’t anymore that would come out of your tired, throbbing body that was just making your head worse even though you were currently crying in the dark.

Chris heard some crying in the hallway, he was still up working on some projects because he was an avid night owl even though he tells you need to get more sleep as per doctors order but that’s besides the point right now.

“Bubba, what’s going on hunni why are you in the dark crying huh?” He asked you whispering to not aggravate, whatever was going on more since he had an inkling of what it could be, since it was a common occurrence that he hated more than he would admit.

“Da- dad it hurts my he- ad hurts so bad.. and I threw up I hate it” you said chocking out a sob

“Oh lovey, I know you’re okay well done for letting it happen.” He reassuringly knowing you had a deep fear of throwing up. “Let’s go get into my bed and I’ll go get your auto injector, some Zofan and some kinderlyte - do you want wild berry or grape?”

“Grape please dad, it’s too bright and can we cuddle please?” Y/n mumbled nestled in her dads neck.

“Of course lovey let’s get you cuddled up with Rory and dodger and I’ll be right back, okay.” He said cuddling her up with Dodger in his duvet and Rory her cuddly dragon. Not forgetting to give her a kiss on her head before he heads downstairs.

Whilst Chris goes downstairs to get everything you needed to hopefully get some sort of sleep and relief Dodger just knew you weren’t doing well so he came from his spot at the bottom the bed and nestled into your side knowing that would give you some comfort at least until Chris got back.

“Right bub let’s get this bit out the way because I know you don’t wike it,” he said motioning to the auto injector box now taking up residence on his bedside table with the zofan and a hydroflask full of kinderlyte with a straw lid of course. “Then we can cuddle and watch Cars 2 okay.”

“Mhmhm can we just get it over with please dad I hate my brain” y/n whimpers tears still ever present over the fear of the auto injectors pain but the relief makes it like a burning hell to get said relief.

“Right 1,2 - *click* I know baby I know” he reassures whilst the injection goes in y/n sobbing that the sting of the liquid going into her thigh.

Chris just picks her up gently from his bed to put her into his chest to comfort her knowing how much pain she’s in, it hurts him more then he’d like to admit.

“Bubba, drink some of this before you fall asleep.”He whispers knowing that you were close to it because when your migraines took effect in the early hours it makes you more tired than usual.

“Mmmmm ‘ove you da-” you said after sipping a considerable amount of the drink but just enough not to make you sick again.

“I love you too sweetheart, if i could take it away I would, you are amazing lovey.” Chris mumbles cuddling his little girl he would swap places with her anytime, any day just to not see her like this.

——————

I feel like I always do major fluff then it turns into angst at the end, but I loved this one because I’ve had more migraines than I can count in the last week but I hope you guys like this one. I took inspiration from @lilithneedslove & @reginaphalange2403 migraine fics too, go show them some love 💖

I’m also quite surprised I wrote this in about 2 hours too lmao💀 it’s a new record. And Rory the dragon is my actual comfort animal ofc 💕

Comments, Reblogs and love is appreciated very much :)

[falcqns]

𝖕𝖚𝖓𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖆 𝖉'𝖆𝖕𝖊

☼ 𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: daddy!Chris Evans x little!Reader

☼ 𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: you get stung by a bee in Animal Kingdom, and Chris takes care of you.

☼ 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔨𝔫𝔤𝔰: bee stings, crying, ddlg relationship, little space, Chris's family knows you're a little and are super accepting, mentions of eating (ice cream sandwiches), fluff.

☼ 𝔞/𝔫: another Disney fic bc Andrew and I are planning a trip there!! also kind of a part two to 'my hands pressed to your cheeks'! thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy!!

you held Chris's hand tight as you two followed his mom into the line for Kilimanjaro Safari. you blinked slowly, suckling on your paci that was hidden by your mask. you rested your head against Chris's bicep as he was engaged in conversation with his mom, just as Scott and Steve joined the two of you.

you gazed over to one of the plants that lined the queue. you let go of Chris's hand as you saw a large bumblebee approach and sniff the flowers.

"hey, where are you going, bubba?" Chris asked, trying to pull you back. you pointed at the bush and slurred your words around your paci.

"bee, dada." Chris nodded and let you go, keeping an eye on you.

"stay where dada can see you," he said, and you nodded. you crouched down to the bush. you reached your hand out gently, and let the bumblebee land on your finger. you smiled and giggled, feeling the bee's tiny little feet moving on your finger, making a tickling sensation.

"hi, wittle guy." you whispered, and moved him around. normally Chris would be worried about you getting so close to a bee, but you loved bees, and had done thorough research on what bee's didn't sting, so he wasn't too worried, and turned around to talk to his mom about how your therapy was going.

he was so engaged in the conversation, and you were so focused on the bumble bee, that neither of you saw a carpenter bee approaching, until you felt something land on your arm. you looked to the side just as a sharp stinging sensation radiated through your upper arm, and you fell backwards, the bumblebee flying away from the sudden movement.

hot tears were streaming down your face before you knew it, and you let out a cry at the persistent pain in your arm. you clutched it, and stood up, just as Chris turned around. he saw the tears on your face, and instantly jumped into daddy mode. he rushed over, and helped you up.

"what happened, bubba?" he asked, trying to get you to move your hand from your arm. you shook your head, and let it fall forward onto his chest, sobbing into the soft material of his shirt. his hands wrapped around you, his right one threading into your hair.

"bubba, what happened?" he asked again frantically, as Scott, Steve and Lisa surrounded you.

"got 'tung dada." you cried, and Lisa rubbed your back as you cried. Chris swore quietly. he managed to pry your hand away from your arm, to inspect the damage. Chris turned to ask his mom for a pen, but before he could, Lisa was pulling one out of her purse, and handing it to him.

Chris drew a circle around your sting, while Lisa calmed you down.

"i bet that hurt, didn't it?" she asked, and you nodded, crying harder. "the pain will be over soon, i promise," she said. "look, dada's done looking at it." she said sweetly, and you slowly began to calm down.

"on a scale of one to ten, how bad does it hurt?" Chris asked, and you shrugged your shoulders, tears still during from your eyes, sobs still escaping your lips. Chris pushed on your mask gently, which slid your paci back in your mouth, and your cries quieted.

you held up an 8 with your fingers, and Chris nodded. "okay." he turned to his mom.

"i'm going to take her to first aid to see if they can give her an ice pack." he said, and a few moments later, you were being led out of the line by Chris. as soon as you were out in the open again, Chris pulled you close to his body as you two walked.

"hurts so bad, dada," you whimpered, and Chris pulled down his mask kissed your temple before pulling it back up as you approached the first aid building.m

"i know, bubba, i know. look, we're here," he said, leading you into the first aid building where you were greeted by a nurse in full PPE.

"hello, how can i help you today?" she asked as she led you two over to one of the examination beds.

"my girlfriend got stung by a bee." Chris said, helping you sit down. he stood to the side of you, and kept his left hand on the back of your head as the nurse pulled on some gloves.

"okay. i just have a quick checklist to go through before i can examine her." she said, picking up a clipboard. "have you both completed the Covid-19 self screening tool?"

"yes."

"do either of you have any new or worsening symptoms of Covid-19?"

"no."

"okay perfect. last question, have either of you been out of the country in the last 14 days or tested positive for covid-19 in that time frame?"

Chris shook his head. "no."

"awesome." she put the clipboard down, and approached you. "can i see your arm, honey?" she asked, and you nodded lifting up your arm for her to inspect.

"okay." she said, looking it over. "i can see the stinger is still there, so i will have to pull it out, but after that a quick cleaning and ice should do the trick. and if it gets worse apply some regular vinegar or apple sicker vinegar with a cloth." she said, grabbing some tweezers. Chris nodded, and hushed you as the lady pinched your arm, and grabbed the small stinger out. you breathed in relief now that the offending object was gone, all that was left was a dull stinging in your arm.

the lady discarded of the stinger and gloves in the trashcan before pulling on new gloves and grabbing a single use ice pack. she popped the small baggy inside before shaking it. once she deemed it cool enough, she wrapped it in paper towel, and handed to you.

"okay, sweetie, there you go." she said, and you nodded.

"thank you," you said popping your paci out slightly, glad you were wearing a mask.

"you're welcome. now, keep that on for 10 minutes, and then take it off for another 10. repeat the process as needed," she said, as she walked back over to the bin with the ice packs. "and i'll give you an extra incase that one looses it's coldness. it should be fine, but if she has any symptoms of anaphylaxis such as hives, excessive itchiness, trouble breathing or tongue swelling, please take her to the hospital."

Chris nodded as you stood up. "thank you so much." the lady nodded, and the two of you headed out of the medical building to find Lisa, Scott and Steve standing there waiting.

"all good?" Scott asked, and you nodded, sucking the paci back into your mouth.

"she's all good. she's got an ice pack, and was such a brave girl while the nurse was treating her arm." Chris mentioned.

Lisa smiled at you, while handing you an ice cream sandwich. "well, i think a brave girl deserves some ice cream."

you smiled and giggled, the pain in your arm forgotten. "thank you," you said, and everyone smiled, before you headed back into the parks to enjoy the rest of your day and the ice cream sandwich.

[twjournals]

The Right Place

This is the third and final part of the trilogy. I can not thank you enough for the endless support. I did not expect to even turn this into a three-parter, but you asked and you shall receive. You guys are amazing!

So Wrong It's Right

What's Wrong is Right

Warning: dark!Peter Parker x reader, dub-con, all characters are of age, pregnancy, abuse, mild non-con touching, violence

Word Count: 5.4k

Summary: You're an old troubled friend of May's. Your life consists of being a workaholic, a party animal, and bringing home the shittest of guys for a one-hit-wonder. Just when you get your life in order, you're knocked right back into your old habits. Peter has watched you suffer long enough. He can make it all better.

Taglist: @discoverwhattheworldhastooffer

Your world was in shambles and any move you made to try and fix it only seemed to make what was left crumble. You did not speak with anyone since you had found out you were pregnant, not even May. You did not know what you could even say to her or how you could explain what was going on. You knew she would find out sooner or later, but you had planned on later. You could not even stomach the thought of telling her. It would not be easy and you knew you would probably lose her friendship in the process.

You avoided Peter as much as you could. He always messaged to check up on you, but you would never reply. You were disappointed in yourself. If you had just been the biggest person and moved on, if you had not have gotten drunk, you would not be in this situation right now.

Peter never gave up on you. He had hoped you would come around. That you would understand why your life was going in the direction it was. You needed to get away from the toxicity you surrounded with, especially Chris. You were meant for bigger and better things. You were meant to be more than a housewife. You were to be a mother, a lover, a soulmate. You deserved the world and he wanted so bad to give you it plus more.

You continued to shut him out though. You did not answer his phone calls or his text messages no matter how many times he tried. He sat outside on your fire escape many nights, listening to you crying yourself to sleep. It broke his heart to see you in this situation, but he wishes you would look on the bright side of things. Maybe it was not the greatest timing to have a baby, but it didn't mean your lives were ruined. Sometimes what we want is not always what we need. Sometimes change is required for what we need in our life and you weren't necessarily open to it.

He honestly had tried to give you your space. He stuck to the rooftop above you where you could not see him when you would finally leave the house for work. You always looked so beautiful to him, even if he knew you had been crying all night. If you would just answer his messages, he would not have to go this far.

Peter watched you many mornings on your way to work. He followed your bus all the way to the place he prayed you would never go. He kneeled on top of the building, watching as you stared sadly at the front doors of the clinic. He wished you would turn around. To save him from having to web you down before you got in the building. You were picking at your sweater. No matter the number of times you found yourself standing outside the clinic, you never could bring yourself to even reach for the door.

You were at war with yourself. Peter could tell you fought against the changes, but your heart could not bring you to stop them from happening despite how unhappy you were. It always ended with a sigh and with you proceeding to walk the rest of the way to work. Peter seemed to hold his breath until you walked away.

Work was always a drag now. You had nothing to look forward to anymore but everything in the world to worry about. You stared at your phone as it lay against the computer screen. You rubbed your face tiredly.

You knew it was time to let go of your past. You sighed deeply, taking your phone in your hands and clicking on Chris's old messages. You began typing.

Are you able to come by later?

You noticed he read your message right away. You sat your phone down, still staring at the screen when he responded back.

Of course. Just tell me when, and I’ll be there.

You told him you would message him once you got home. You were sure what time you would get off when it came to your job. You wrote a company and spent the hours necessary to do what you needed to do.

By the time your workday had finally ended, you were having mixed feelings about inviting him over. Being pregnant did not help your feelings from being all over the place. Your thumbs hovered over the keypad on your screen. You were hesitant. Even if he had said he respected whatever you decided, you knew he could not entirely mean that. You quickly typed out that you were home and hit send before you could give yourself time to think almost about it. Maybe you should have thought about it a little longer.

Peter was stuck at school for one of his night classes. He dreaded his night classes now more than ever considering your condition. He had already skipping enough classes due to worrying so much about you. He could not afford to flunk out of school now after all the time and effort he had dedicated already. As much as he wanted to keep an eye on you, he tried to give you room to breathe, to think, and process.

You pushed his bags in the living room by the door, straightening your sweater to keep it off of your stomach. You were not big to others, but to you, you worried if people can tell. You did not want to chance it and certainly not with Chris. You wanted this to go as smoothly as possible.

Your heart almost leaped from your chest at the knock on your door. You slid the chain from the lock and pulled the door open to see his face light up as soon as he saw you.

"Hey there, beautiful."

"Hi." You leaned against the door slightly as you moved out of the way for him to enter.

"I'm so glad you're giving this a second-" He stepped into the apartment, noticing bags of his belongings to the side of him and he grew quiet. "You're not giving me a second chance." He pointed out and you frowned slightly, still standing by the door.

"I think it is what's best for the both of us." Your voice was quiet and calm, but in your mind, it was the hardest thing possible for you to say.

"Is it?" His voice seemed bitter and you looked down at your feet, nodding slowly. Even without looking at him, you could still feel his eyes on you. He turned to face you fully and you hesitated to make eye contact with him.

"It is. I still want the best for you."

"Do you not believe I can change? I don't understand. What can I do to change your mind?" He pressed.

"Please don't think I haven't given this a lot of thought. It consumes my mind to no end. I just need to focus on myself right now."

"Imagine that." It was silent in the room and you glanced at him, only to find him shaking his head with a snicker. "It's not what's best for the both of us. Not for me. This is what's best for you. Can't imagine how I even thought you could be anything but selfish."

"Chris, I just want to keep this civil."

"Good for you." He pulls the door from your grasp and slamming it shut, startling you. "That's all you've ever been, hm? You're gonna have to lose that mindset if you plan on marrying me."

"I don't-"

"You will." He corrected, moving so close you could feel his breath across your face. "I put too much time into this for you to walk away from me."

You swallowed hard. The man who stared back at you was far from familiar. You tried to step around him but he only pushed you back into your place between him and the wall.

"Goddamn it, just get your stuff and go!" You raised your voice and he slapped his hand hard across your cheek. It was strong enough to make you see stars in your eyes. You yelped at the impact and held your cheek as it stung in pain.

"You watch your fucking tone." He stared down at you. He had never hit you before in the years you had been together. He never raised a hand to you, but then again, he never raised one for you either.

You could not imagine how much worse this would get. You left sick to your stomach when he grabbed your chin, tilting your head upright to look at him, stroking his fingers across your stinging cheek as his eyes flickered over your face in thought.

"Truth to be told, I think it's you who needs to change. I put up with so much from you. You had me in the beginning. Thought I was getting this wild, sex-crazed wife, oh, the fun we use to have. The drunken nights." He stiffed a laugh as he let his free hand grab the end of your sweater. "You really had me fooled, didn't you sweetheart?"

You were scared to move. Scared that one wrong move and he would hit you again, maybe worse. You closed your eyes, hoping Peter would answer your prayers. You regretted how much you ever took advantage of his kindness. How long you acted like you never noticed. You had always noticed. You felt his hand push underneath your shirt, and his gaze grazed over your stomach.

You noticed the way his hand froze against the small curve of your rounded stomach and he instantly lifted your shirt to see the problem. Your vision was blurred from your tears as he stared at your stomach with wide eyes. You could tell he was getting pissed.

"Really looks like you've been focusing on yourself." He lets your sweater fall back down over your stomach. His grip was still firm on your jaw, giving you no choice but to look at him. "You have some nerve to leave me. I could bet money it's Parker's. It is, isn't it?"

You could not bring yourself to admit it, but you did not have to.

He shoved your face from his hand, causing you to hit your head hard against the wall as he let you go. "You fucking make me sick."

You tried to keep your sobs quiet, listening to his footsteps moving away from you, listening to him jerking his bags up. "Better it's his problem and not mine." He muttered before slamming the door shut behind him.

You pulled your knees to your chest as you sat up against the wall with a sob. You didn't realize how much you needed Peter until now. You were sure he would have been successful if Peter had not have stopped. You hugged your knees as you tried to catch your breath in an attempt to calm yourself down.

After a moment, you took a deep breath as you pushed yourself to your feet. You let out a whimper quiet, feeling mild cramps in your lower stomach. You frowned as you turned the lock to the door, pressing your forehead against it as you held your stomach from the pain. It only seemed to worsen the longer you stood there. You weren't sure what was going on, but you had a feeling whatever it was, it was not good. You stood like that hoping the cramps would ease, but they never did.

It was close to the end of class when Peter's phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out of his phone slightly to see who it was. He glanced up at the professor who had still proceeded with his lecture and Peter lowered his head to answer. He knew something had to be wrong if you were calling him after all this time of avoiding him.

"Y/n? Is everything okay?"

"I think something is wrong." You whimpered quietly and he raises an eyebrow slightly.

"What do you mean "wrong"? Is the baby okay?" He looked up at the teacher who was making eye contact with him now as he talked.

"I don't know." You answered honestly.

That was all it took to get Peter moving. He grabbed his books off of his desk and tossed them in his bag while he scrambled from the classroom.

"It hurts." You rubbed your lower stomach like you always did when you had cramps before. Cramps were normal, but with being pregnant, you could never be too sure what they really meant.

"I know, love. I'm so sorry. Hang tight. I'm on my way." He reassured you as he sprinted out of the building.

---

You lay back on the hospital bed, sighing as Peter ran his hand over your bump in gentle circles. For once, you let him. Your cramps had surprisingly lessened since Peter had shown up, but he did not want to take any chances. It was better to be safe than sorry. He was so worried about you and the baby.

Nurses had been in and out of the room, doing blood work, swabbing, anything necessary to get to the bottom of this. Peter was quiet as he sat on the side of the hospital bed, focused on the massage he was giving your stomach. This was the first time he had touched you since the night you found out you were pregnant.

You could not help back to smile slightly to yourself as his long gentle fingers worked over your skin. He must have sensed your stare because it was not long before his eyes glancing up to meet your stare.

He raised an eyebrow curiously. "Is this okay? I'm not making it worse, am I?"

You shook your head. "It's fine. I'm just watching."

He smiled at you while he continued his massage to your tummy. His eyes looked toward the door when a nurse came in, rolling some equipment over to the bedside.

"Miss. Y/l/n, your lab work should not be much longer. If you do not mind, I would like to do an ultrasound to check on the baby. Is that okay with you?"

You nodded and Peter took his hands back to let her work. She rolled over a chair, taking some gel and squirting some across your lower stomach. The nurse rolled the transducer over the gel and smearing it in as she applied some pleasure in search of a heartbeat. You watched her roam your stomach, biting your bottom lip. Your eyes widened slightly when the sound of the baby's beating heart filled the room. Once the nurse got a clear view, she turned the screen to show you and Peter what she was seeing.

You looked over at the monitor, your heart fluttered slightly at the first sight of your baby. That was your baby, even if it was only a little bean now. You could not stop the smile from forming on your lips. This little bean was life was growing inside of you. This brought a whole new light to your pregnancy. It was like a light had switched on. You did not know how to explain the overwhelming feeling. It felt more real after seeing him or her.

Peter was just as taken back as you. His grin never faded at the sight of your baby. It only made him 10x more eager to be a dad.

"Look at that. Already looks like me." Peter teased and you giggled, considering he or she was not much more than a heartbeat at the moment.

"I can definitely see it." You grinned as Peter rest his hand over yours, sliding his fingers between yours. He brought your hand to his lips before pressing a kiss to the back of it. You watched him kiss your hand and shivered slightly. You did not know what to think of everything at this point.

The nurse checked the baby's heartbeat before turning to the computer behind her and check your lab results with a quiet hum as she scrolled through your charts.

"Well, it seems like everything is just fine. Your baby is certainly healthy and has one of the strongest heartbeats I have ever heard." You looked over at Peter and he only grinned. You could thank Peter for that and all of his spidey senses.

"Your blood pressure was pretty high though and considering your history, your blood pressure has always been perfect. Have you been stressed out lately?" She looked back at you and you nodded slightly.

You were ashamed at how stressed you had let yourself get. "Well, I won't ask for details but if it is anything I can help you with, I would be happy to help. If not, I would stay to keep the stress to a minimum. Your baby does feel anything you feel, so some things can be too much and really take a toll on them." She explained. "Think of this as your baby reminding you to breathe."

You smiled, feeling Peter giving your hand a warm squeeze.

"If your blood pressure does continue to be high, we will see if we can do something to help." You nodded again as she made out some prints of your ultrasound and handing them to you. "If you don't have any questions, I'll let one of the other nurses know and they can keep your paperwork ready for you to go home." She took a paper towel and wiped your stomach clean before tossing it.

With that, she gathered up her equipment before rolling it out of the room with her. You pulled your sweater back down over your stomach.

"Hear that. Now do me a favor and leave all of the worrying up to me." He looked up at you as your eyes stayed glued to your ultrasound prints. His eyes flickered over your face, landing on the bruising mark on your cheek. He reached up, moving a piece of hair back of your face to get a better look. You flinched at the contact. Peter seemed taken back by your flinch.

"What happened? How'd you get that?" You kept your head down with a small frown.

"I invited Chris over to get his stuff. He thought I was taking him back. He didn't take it well." You explained and his eyes widened.

"He hit you?!" You reached Peter's hand as he started to jump up from the bed. "I'll kill him. I swear to you-"

"Peter, please. It's over with now." You assured him, tugging his hand to pull him back to the bed to sit down again. "He's not worth it."

Peter frowned, letting out a deep sigh before leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. He did not want to stress you any more than you had already been. "I'm sorry he did that to you. I wish I could have been there."

"Honestly, I needed this. It made letting go of him a lot easier."

"Was that all he did?"

You grew quiet.

"Did he..."

"No, he didn't." You shook your head after he could finish his sentence. "He saw that I was pregnant and left."

Peter tried to keep his composure as his fist clenches out of your sight. He could not imagine how someone could lay a single finger on you with intentions to hurt you. He was quiet. He was trying to hold it together for your sake.

"He didn't say anything?"

You stayed quiet for a moment, rubbing your thumb across the print. "Just that he was glad it was your problem and not his." You shrugged your shoulders slightly. "Even though it's not a problem, I am glad it's you and not him. I can't imagine what it would be like to have a baby with someone that selfish."

His clenched fist loosened at your words and his eyes softened. He could not believe his ears. Were you really saying this?

His cheeks blushed a deep shade of red. "You mean that?"

You smiled at him with a nod. "I do. You're so selfless and care so much about what you can do for others. Even though I've been selfish, you still stuck by my side. I honestly couldn't ask for a better father for my baby."

His smile widened as he looked at you, resting his hand on your small bump. "Our baby."

You rested your hand on top of his with a smile, nodding your head. "Our baby." You agreed.

---

It was not long after that the nurse gave you the okay to leave. Peter had stopped to get you something to eat before he took you home. He wanted to make sure you had been fed. All of the little things like this had slowly pulled you closer Peter. You were not used to how observant and patient he was. As much as you knew how wrong your whole situation was, you could not help but to give in to it. Despite your age, Peter had treated you better than any other guy you had been with. Even better than the one you had been with for years. Peter was the blessing you never knew you needed. He was the blessing in disguise.

He held onto your hand, walking up the steps to your apartment and using the keys to unlock the door for you. He didn't expect you to let him stay. All he wanted was to make sure you were okay before he left you alone.

"Thank you for everything." You looked up at him as you both stood in front of your door.

He smiled down at you. "You don't have to thank me."

"You know I owe you."

He rolled his eyes playfully. "You don't owe me anything. You're having our baby. I consider that payment enough." He teases, his hands resting on your waist. He could not help but touch you. In every possible, he would if he could. Your cheeks blushed at his response, looking down but Peter let his finger hook underneath your chin to tilt your head back up. Your lips were barely an inch apart when the moment was quickly ruined.

"What the fuck is going on here?!" A familiar voice pulled you from your moment, making your heart sink to the pit of your stomach when the realization hit. You did not even have to look over to know it was May. Her face was red in anger when your eyes met hers. "You ignore me for weeks and when I come to check on you, you're smacking lips with my nephew?! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Your lips parted to say something, but no words came out. You did not where to begin with explaining yourself to her. You knew this was all wrong, but it was all too late.

"I thought you were hurt, but obviously, you're perfectly fine." She was fuming.

You never wanted her to find out this way. You wished you had more time to think about it and figure out a better way, but this was it. This was the moment of truth and you were terrified to lose your best friend. You felt tears forming in your eyes and Peter frowned.

"Aunt May, stop."

"Stop?! I'm not going to stop! You're not going to use my nephew so you can get over your worthless ex-boyfriend."

"Aunt May!"

You fought to hold back your tears until you could not anymore. You felt the tears running down your face. As much of a low blow that was, you felt you deserved to hear it. "Peter, i-it's okay." You struggled to form your words. You were hurt, embarrassed, ashamed.

"No, it's not." He shook his head, pointing a finger at May as she stood only a few feet distance from the two of you by her car. "You've gone too far."

"I don't understand how you think this is okay, Y/n." She shook her head, ashamed at you.

"I didn't expect for it to be like this. I didn't mean for any of this to happen." You confessed.

"Just like you never meant for all those one-night stands to happen huh? I trusted you!" She yelled, making you flinch. You hung your head in defeat, glancing at Peter with sad eyes before going inside. You could not stomach the rest of the conversation without sobbing. You tried to calm yourself once you were inside.

"That's enough!" Peter yelled suddenly. "I am capable of making my own decisions. I don't need you to decide what is best for me, Aunt May. I'm not here against my will and neither is she."

"She's supposed to be my friend." She didn't know what to make of this.

"You're supposed to be my Aunt! You knew how hard I crushed over her. For years you knew."

"I thought it was just a crush."

He moved closer to her in the parking lot. It was never just a crush. He was head over heels for you. "I love her. I've always loved her. You're can either respect it or accept it, because it's either way, she's pregnant and nothing is going to change that." He stood by her car.

Her mouth fell open in shock. She did not know what to think. Never in a million years would have thought this would happen, but then again never would have you.

"Pregnant?" Her voice was quiet.

He nodded. "I'm gonna be a dad, Aunt May." He pulled his copy of the prints out of his wallet and showing them to her.

She was at a loss for words. He was right. There was nothing she could do about that. May stared at the prints for a moment, trying to process everything in the short time it had all happened.

"Peter... I don't understand..."

"She almost had a miscarriage today because she's been stressing herself out over Chris. You're not going to take this away from me." He looks down at her, taking the prints back from her." He looked down at her as she stared back with a small frown. "Go home, Aunt May before we both do something we'll regret. You can come back when you're ready to apologize for this." He held the car door open for her and she hesitated before slowly getting in the car.

She knew she was in the wrong for how she had handled things, but Peter did not give her the chance to even risk making things worse. Peter felt deep in his heart despite everything she would come around. She would realize how happy you made him and she would accept it, but for now, she needed to leave.

Peter walked back to your front door, knocking on the door with a sigh. After a few moments, you moved from your spot on the couch to answer the door. You opened it slightly to see Peter and you glanced behind him at May's car pulling out of the parking lot.

"How are you?" He frowned when he saw your red watery eyes.

"I feel awful."

He sighed when you finally let go of the door and he stepped inside of the apartment. He let the door close behind him. His arms wrapped around your body instantly, pulling you against mine as he hugged you, resting his head against yours and kissing the top of it. "I'm so sorry. I know it's hard to believe now, but she'll come around. Just give her some time."

"She was going to find out sooner or later. I expected that reaction. I just wasn't prepared for it right now." You pointed out as your head rested against his chest, letting him hold onto you.

You closed your eyes, listening to his heartbeat. You relaxed in his arms. Your eyes were burning from all the tears shed. Peter scooped your body up in his arms bridal style, carrying you down the hall to the bedroom. He laid you down on the bed, sliding into the bed with you as his arms naturally found their way around your waist. Your head fell to his chest as you got lost in your thoughts for a moment.

"I'm starting to think I can never make the right choices." You admitted, laughing slightly to yourself and Peter tilted your head up to look at him.

His lips pressed a kiss to your nose. "Sometimes, the wrong choices bring us to the right places." He assured you before leaning in to close the space between your lips and kissing your lips.

He was true to word. No matter how much you held yourself back, every wrong choice you had ever made in your life brought you to this moment with Peter. This opportunity with Peter to finally get your life right. It was your chance to allow yourself the happiness you knew you both deserved.

End Credits Scene

He was not sure how long he had been sitting with his wrists and ankles restrained to a chair in the middle of a dark room. Maybe hours. It even could have been days. He was not sure. His eyes blinked rapidly to adjust to the light that poured into the room when he finally heard a heavy door open.

"Oh good, you're awake." He was covered in sweat from fear and the heat of the closed-off room. He could make out bits of a red and blue suit. His eyes must have been playing tricks on him. When his eyes finally adjusted to the light, his eyes widened at the sight of Spiderman in front of him. He did not understand what was going on. Spiderman is supposed to save people.

His mouth was covered with solid webbing so he could not speak.

"I'm sure you're wondering why you're here." Peter moved closer to him as he spoke. He leaned down, ripping the webbing from Chris' mouth and making him cry out in pain from the grip it had on his skin. "You see Chris if there's one thing I hate, it's people who hurt the people I care about."

"W-What are you talking about? I haven't done anything."

"Don't play dumb." Peter gritted his teeth underneath his mask, backhanding Chris across the face before gripping his jaw. "You know exactly what you did, but that's okay because it won't happen again. You'll never touch Y/n again. I'll make sure of that."

Blood dripped from Chris's mouth from how hard Peter hit him. "I should fucking kill you for putting your hands on her." He smirked to himself when Chris starts squirming under his grip. "But I won't."

"I won't. I won't touch her again. I swear-"

"Oh, I know you won't." Peter let go of his jaw before backing up towards the door again.

"W-Where are you going? Aren't you going to let me go?" Chris started to panic as Peter pulled his mask off for Chris to see his face. He wanted this to be the last thing he saw if he died and the thing he would definitely remember if he lived.

"I didn't say I was going to let you go. I said I wasn't going to kill you." He smiled and Chris's mouth fell open slightly at the sight of Peter Parker standing before him. "I was thinking we could make a game out of this. I hear you like games. Let's see just how important you really are. I'm gonna leave you here and we're gonna see if your friends succeed with their search party if they even send one out. I can't imagine what they would care about scum like you for, but I guess we'll see. I give you about 48 hours before your body finishes you off itself. That should give you more than enough time to think about what I've said. That's if you do make it and I don't really have faith that's gonna happen, but I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. I expect you to get the hell out of New York. I promise to you if ever see you again, I'll kill you."

Chris swallowed hard as Peter stood in the doorway once more, the sun outlining his figure at the door. He was scared of the possibility of not being found. He was furious that a guy like Peter was capable of putting him in a situation like this.

"They'll find me and when they do, you're a dead man, Peter Parker." He pulled at the restraints on his arms with all of his might but he did not stand a chance against the webbing. Peter made it look so easy.

Peter grinned at Chris's promise. He loved the challenge. The possibility that even if someone did find him, he would have the pleasure of killing him himself. It amused Peter that Chris could even have the nerve to threaten him in the position he was in.

"Well, let the game begin." He gave a wave as he started to pull the door closed. Chris yelled to the top of his lungs until the heavy metal door ceased his screams.

[angelkurenai]

So much for a surprise - Chris Evans x Reader - Part 2

Title: So much for a surprise

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: None

Prompt: I’d love a chris evans x reader one shot, where they’re dating, and after the knives out movie, he’s been spending a lot of time with his co-star Ana de Armas, and like in one specific interview she was getting very flirty and such with Chris, and touching his arm and stuff, and I’d just want to see how you’d interpret jealous!reader, and Chris reacting to that jealousy!!

Read Part 1 here!

There was an echo. A distant one. Far away. And there were words too, he was sure of it, but they couldn't reach him. They tried to, as did the person saying them. However it felt like there was something more, preventing them from getting to him. Maybe it wasn't the voice or the person. Maybe it was really him, him that had walls around him. Preventing the outside world from getting to him.

And the echo seemed further away, muted somehow though he could still hear it. Maybe he was underwater? He didn't know, he had no idea what was going on in the first place anyway, but it felt like it. And not just because he felt like no sounds could get to him clearly, not because his own ears were ringing and the pressure building on each side of his head made him feel like he was thousands of feet deep into the sea, crushing his head in a way that oddly enough didn't hurt as much as the rest of him, as much as his chest and not because of his eyes stinging, burning as did his lungs as he held his breath. No it wasn't because of those reasons that he thought he was beneath the sea but because he felt like- He had taken you on your first date for a picnic by the sea. You had commented on how punctual he was. How him being right on time might seal the deal for you and make you fall for him in the end.

The memory seemed to shake him to the core. A link to reality which assisted in pulling him further and further up from the depths he had found himself in, the surface almost tangible and the other side... painfully there. It hurt more to be back to reality than it did to be underwater in the sea of his thoughts, after all. Maybe, and he was almost certain of it, it would hurt much less to really be underwater. The physical pain would be nothing compared to what he was feeling now.

He blinked. Once. Twice. Then some more. Everything slowly started coming into focus, all of his senses sharpening. His vision more clear, the sounds reaching his ears more acute and precise, to the point he could tell what was being said.

“Chris? Chris? Chris are you still in there?... Are you alright? The door is locked. Please, just say something.” the voice on the other side of the door was unmistakably Ana's, and while both the tone in it and the knocking on the door was frantic and panicked, to say the least, he couldn't find it in himself to move a muscle just yet.

Whether it was that he didn't care to move or that his mind still hadn't made the connection to the rest of his body so as to not feel the full scope of pain, especially the one harboring within his chest and broken heart, he didn't know. All he did was blink several times again, his eyes slowly focusing on the small open box in his hand. He had spent so much time agonizing over picking the right ring, wanting to treat you right he wanted to pick a ring that could express all of his love for you, and then agonizing over trying to organize the perfect occasion to finally ask the question. It had almost been months now, though he couldn't dare admit to that (mostly because he was almost sure now, he wouldn't get the chance to) just like he wouldn't dare admit that you had been right about Ana. Only up to some point though.

He had been spending more time with her, maybe much more than he did with you, but he was completely oblivious to the way she could possibly feel about him, let alone about all the flirting you had seen. He had too much on his mind, you and his possible future with you, that he didn't even notice half of it. Appreciating only the fact that it somehow managed to make him forget his worries, he went along with all of it. Not that you were to blame for it, if anything it was possibly one of the sweetest kind of worries, but it was still something that kept him up at night. And staying away for some time he had the chance to prepare, mentally if nothing else. He feared that if it didn't go right, if you said no, then maybe that would be it for the both of you and for good. It was a risk, no matter what, and he feared losing you to it.

“Chris? Chris, are you alright? Please just- Say something, I'm getting really worried here. I'm going to get someone to kick the door open if you can't-” her words didn't really register in his ears after that but that wasn't necessary when the purpose had formed in his mind.

Taking in a deep breath, albeit shaky, he shoved the closed box inside his pocket and got up. He cleared his throat and finally unlocked the door, opening it to face his costar standing on the other side. Her face showed the same amount of worry he had detected in her voice through the frantic knocking, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He didn't have the mind to.

“Chris! You- Are you alright? What happened? I've been waiting for you. We- you said you were coming with but then you didn't show up and I- I got so worried.” she said with wide eyes.

He felt a pang in his chest at those words but didn't dwell on it “I- Yeah. I'm fine, I'm- I'm sorry. I was actually a bit in a world of my own, I didn't mean to worry you.”

“Well, no- it's alright, don't worry about me.” she blinked several times, shaking her head “It's just that you've been here for hours and I-”

“Yeah, I've got lots of things going on at the moment and I- To be honest with with you, I'd prefer to be alone right now. So I apologize but I just- I actually have to be somewhere else, I won't be able to make it tonight. I'm sorry, I just... I don't think I will be any good company.”

“Well, it's not like you have to even try to be any good company. Not if you don't want to. You could just come with and not have to talk at all to anyone else if you don't feel like it. And after-” she paused, as if hesitating for a moment “Not to intrude or anything but I kind of noticed that things got bad after your girlfriend showed up so I couldn't help but think that maybe... it would help take your mind off things?” she suggested hopefully but it only made Chris' insides twist “Cause I could help if you'd let me, I'd love to. You know that. I- I mean maybe it's not my place but it seemed-”

“You're right, it's not.” maybe it came out more harsh than it was supposed to, maybe more harsh than he meant it too and more harsh than he even realized, not until h saw Ana's eyes widen in surprise that is “I-” he started before he cleared his throat “Sorry.” he mumbled.

“No, of course- It's alright.”

“It's just that there's something very important going on right now at the moment that needs my full attention. And you can't help me. I would actually appreciate it if you left my out of your plans for quiet... quiet some time. I'm sorry, it's really not you specifically. It's between (Y/n) and I, it can only be that way and it should be that way. Which is why right now-” he hurried to grab his phone and close the door “I have to hurry. I'm truly sorry Ana for...” he paused, looking at her with a frown “For more things than were in my power and I wish things could have gone different but right now (Y/n)'s my main priority. She's always been, even though I did a shit job of showing it.”

“You- uh you don't have to apologize. It's personal. I get it.” she put on what could only a a brave, albeit forced, smile on her face “You go to your girlfriend. I might not know what's going on but... it's clear she could do with seeing you. I can certainly say you need to see her. You should go.”

There were far too many things he wanted to tell her, to apologize for having let things get this way because she wasn't entirely at fault either. He had been so busy worrying about the proposal that he had led her on in his selfish attempts to unwind. In his mind, and heart without a doubt, though he knew that there was no space for any other woman but you. You came first and all the pain he'd put you through, one which he was willing to spend the rest of his life trying to amend for if you'd just let him. Hopefully. So instead all he did was give Ana a short nod and tight smile with a soft “Good night.” before he was sprinting to his car, ready to find you.

Even though he didn't really know where to begin with, the thought of which filled him with ten times the panic of having to propose to you. Moments like this, he really wished he could go back in time and change everything. If he could, he would ask you to marry him with a napkin ring on the spot, without waiting a minute let alone months, from that first morning he realized that he really did want to wake up to you like that every morning for the rest of his life. He even had some crazy hope you would say yes. And it was certainly much more hope than finding you tonight in time and before things took a turn for the worse.

If only he knew where to find you, that would have been great.

It felt like forever, going around with his car, from bar to bar. It was almost crazy, futile even, but it was the only thing he could think of; even if it didn't work out. And it really hadn't because he hadn't been able to find you, or better yet you and your companion, in any of the places he went until he found himself in the most unlikely place for you to be. Or maybe it was the most likely one, who knew?

All Chris knew was that had he not struggled to get out of his car and into your apartment then he would have never noticed the familiar car, parked just a few feet away. And therefore would have not gotten a warning for the man whom he saw exit not shortly afterwards that apartment complex which he certainly didn't live in. Chris followed your costar with his eyes, frowning but otherwise making no move. He wasn't planing on approaching, much less confronting him; he wasn't even ready to know what he was doing at your apartment, because he knew that's where he'd been and he knew that's where he'd find you now. He watched the man get in his car and slowly drive away on the other lane. He kept looking even after he was long gone, no other car in sight or any other person but darkness. The kind of darkness he was afraid would swallow him up whole, most probably from within.

He shut his eyes tightly, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his fists around the steering wheel and took many breathes in and out as well as a few seconds to calm himself and his thoughts before he left his own car and made his way to your shared place. Or maybe it was a couple minutes trying to prepare himself, but he didn't want to dwell on what he was preparing himself for.

Opening the door and walking into your shared apartment he almost prayed deep down to find you at leas on the living room and when he didn't, he only felt his heart rate pick up. Holding his breath, fearing that even that would make a sound audible enough to alert of his presence, he made his way to your shared bedroom. He would have looked for you in the kitchen or probably any other place he wanted but that would have only been stalling and an attempt at sparing himself some pain and truth was he felt like he didn't deserve it. Even if it was eye for an eye, even if it was more, he had it all coming.

So with that in mind he walked into the bedroom only to, if possible, be more hurt by the sight that greeted him than he initially expected. His breath hitched in his throat when he spotted you sitting on the floor of the room, back resting on the bed, staring at the open wardrobe with red eyes, still glossy from the tears you had no doubt shed. Because of him. And that was a knife to the chest.

It was Dodger, who was as always attached to you and currently laying on your lap, trying his best to comfort you, that noticed Chris first and gave a small bark. You blinked, almost jumping in your place, before you turned your head to meet his eyes. Your own eyes widened briefly, maybe you really didn't expect to see him there, and after a few seconds of hesitation and confusion, you looked away from him again and back at your clothes. He still wouldn't look away, nor make a single sound.

“He only offered to drive me back home. I wasn't-” in came a shaky breath “I clearly wasn't in the mood to stay with them and I- I couldn't really calm down and he got worried. He- He stayed for only a few minutes as I, well-” your smile was so bitter it cut him open “Cried my eyes out. Didn't tell him anything though, don't worry, he didn't ask either.” a heavy sigh “Don't worry about this... us either. I'll uhm I think I've figured out what kind of clothes I need, I haven't talked with Lizzie yet but she wouldn't have a problem letting me stay at her place for some time before I make my way back home.”

“What?” his words came out choked out, probably barely above a whisper, but ringing in his ears “Home? (Y/n)... this is your home. This is our home. What are you talking about?”

“I think I was rather clear, Chris. It's better if we put some distance between us. And after that... Well, I'm going to go back home. There's obviously no other way this can go.” your voice was low “Besides, it's not going to make a difference to you, be honest. Whether I am here or not, how will you even notice the difference when you barely remember you have a girlfriend let alone are around enough to notice her.”

He wished there was some anger in your voice, he wished there was venom or bitterness direct at him. But instead there was nothing, nothing but exhaustion and possibly pain. And that was the worst of it.

“(Y/n), no.” he breathed out almost desperately “No, please don't say that.”

“Well, it's the truth.” you shrugged casually.

“That you're leaving him? Is that the truth? Is that the truth of what you wanted? Of what we were fighting for in this relationship? Of all that we wished and dreamed about? Of what we promised each other when we took the next step?” his voice cracked, and he knew his vision was getting blurry, but he couldn't bring himself to care of how pathetic he could look right now.

“The truth of what the past couple months have been leading to. Of what all this secrecy and distance between us has led to. Even if, as you see, I've been right here for you all the time; maybe it's really time for me to take a step back too.” you looked sadly only at Dodger, no wonder feeling sad that you'd have to part with him and possibly for good after today and-

Chris shook his head, banishing all the thoughts from his head and trying to fight off the lump in his throat. No, no this was not how things were supposed to go. This was not how he was going to let them go.

“It's only natural after today.” you spoke softly “Look, I- I don't want to take any of it out on you. We've had our talk, there is nothing else to say anymore, not really, so I will simply gather my things and-”

“No!” it was the first time a voice was raised in the room, coming from Chris who, as his ears were buzzing, was shocked as well by it all “No, you won't. Not until you've heard my side of the story!” he sounded more firm and determined than, he was sure, he had ever heard himself be in his entire life.

“Chris, honestly, there is no need. I told you I don't blame you and I'm not even jealous anymore. I simply-” you gave him a forced smile “I'm simply tired. I don't have the mind or heart for any of it. And if you really want to be with Ana then you are free to, you don't even have think about me. Much less try to explain yourself or the situation.”

“This is not some sort of excuse, (Y/n). I would never-” he sighed heavily, dragging a hand down his face before slowly making his way to you and sitting down in a way that looked more like he was collapsing, making sure to still leave some small distance between you in case you felt uncomfortable “You know I've never cheated on you. I would never try to hurt you, especially in that way. Though, I understand, by not paying closer attention to Ana flirting with me I did just that. You know I-”

“I do.” you whispered “I do know that... Just like I know that all those promises we made each other all that time ago mean nothing anymore. So really there is no reason for you to try and mend things between us. There is no reason to-”

“There's always a reason. There's-” his eyes widened before he shut them closed tightly, shaking his head and fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. It looked like you had given up and that hurt him even more. He couldn't have you give up, because if you did then he probably could do nothing to undo the mess he had created “I love you more than anything in this world, more than my own life.” his voice cracked but he didn't care, he could almost not hear his own words, not as he almost subconsciously reached inside his pocket and pulled the small box only to slowly place it in the space between you.

And even though he was sure all words had left him by now, he surprised himself when he recalled only a few. The ones he had practiced in his head – and ridiculed himself while failing to say out loud – he would tell you when he did get the courage to propose to you “You're my reason.” he whispered, fully looking at you and therefore being able to notice the way your eyes reluctantly but surely trailed from him to the small object between the two of you. Shock was the word that could easily describe the look on your face but not the only one. The gasp from your lips sounded louder in his ears.

“You're my reason for everything. Everything good that happens in my life. Everything good that makes me happy. Everything good that I manage to achieve, you're my reason. Everything I've become these past years, you're the reason. Because you push me to be the best of who I can be . But when the world demands that of me, you're the reason I remember it's also good to not be the best I can be. It's because of you that I remember that falling and failing isn't so bad, because you will be there to help me stand up again. You're the reason I smile and laugh, and cry and get angry more often than not. But you're also the reason I love doing all that as well. You're the reason I love life, with its ups and downs, that I love waking up and that I wish it could be next to you for the rest of my life. You make it all worth it in a way no words can describe it... even the one I've already used. Even-” he stopped himself, the lump in his throat too much to bear anymore, the unshed tears making his eyes burn.

He didn't say anything more, and you weren't about to break the silence that had set around the two of you, his uneven breathing being the only sound that was heard besides the ticking of the clock. In the end, Chris let out a pained laugh “There was a lot I was planning to say after that too, before I really asked the big question you know. For obvious reasons... I probably won't. Not that I think I can really... I'm sorry. But that's the most I've said without messing it up so uh-” he rubbed that back of his neck, painful smile on his face “I guess if things were different, you would have been proud of me? If...”

“Chris... When did you get this?” your voice cracked, hurting him worse than his broken heart.

“It's- I've had it for months now. I couldn't bring myself to- I was scared to ask you. But instead of facing that fear head on I did the stupid thing of trying to get my mind off of it by... well, you know what I've been doing lately.” he sighed, letting his head lean back on the bed, he closed his eyes and fought off the tears. Or at least so he told himself, he was actually scared to face you “I'm so sorry, (Y/n). For everything I've done. For ruining easily the best thing to ever happen to me in my entire life.”

“Fucking hell, Chris. That's- Damn it.” you shocked out, burying your face in your hands. The silence that hang in the room was so thick he felt like chocking. But the way your low voice whispered to him in pain, he realised that there were worse things than that silence. “You did all of this for- for that?”

“I know, trust me I do.”

“You should have told me.” you shook your head, fresh tears running down your face “You should have... That's not how you- I deserved to know. I deserved it... I needed it.”

“I know... I know now. And I understand how... scary it gets. And it's much more scary than asking you that question.” he let out a shuddering breath, eyes opening and falling on the small box “Realizing that there was a real chance of losing you to another man made me feel so helpless. It scared me more than anything and I hate that we had to come to this for me to understand the truth... That I can't lose you, I can't live without you. Only real question here is-” he gave a humorless smile “Is it too late for that?”

Three beats. Three beats of his heart. The longest three beats in his entire life and he felt like drowning again. Before you finally sighed and whispered "You're never too late."

[hailbop1701]

@friendlybelladonna picked prompt #76!

Fandom: Star Trek AOS

Type: X Reader

Frequent Flyer

Word Count: 1,298

BonesXRedaer (Star Trek AOS)

Yay prompt Wednesday everyone! This was pretty fun to write though I don't know if I got the original mood I wanted. I hope you all enjoy it anyway! As usual no beta so typos will be present.

-H❤🖖

“I’m honestly not hurting myself on purpose just so I can see him,” you grumbled from the biobed Christine Chapel helped you onto. The nurse looked at you unconvinced with her hands on her hips; she is one of your closest friends and had immediately seen who you had a little crush on.  

“Right and the flirtatious banter you two seem to have is-”

“Is nothing. The banter isn’t flirtatious,” you said mostly just to convince yourself. Christine laughed and rolled her eyes.

 

“Okay (Y/N) you know the drill,” she sighed. You took several deep breaths so the bed and Christine's tricorder could measure your heart rate. Several of the usual checks were made before they brought a doctor in to officially look at your arm. 

The Red Alert had died down quite a while ago and you had avoided sickbay for as long as you could but you knew for a fact that your arm was broken and the burn was already getting infected. “Hello (Y/N),” the voice of Geoffrey M’Benga reverberated around the small exam room. 

You looked up and gave the doctor a small but mildly disappointed smile, “Hey Geoff,” 

M’Benga returned the sad smile and shook his head in mild exasperation, “What are we going to do with you my dear girl? This is the fourth time this month,” he said gently, taking your arm. You scowled at your scuffed boots, cheeks red with embarrassment. Picking at your uniform you avoided looking at the two caregivers in the room. 

“I-” you began but the sound of loud frustrated footsteps cut you off mid -explanation. 

“Again?” a southern voice drawled from the doorway, you ducked your head cheeks becoming redder than before. Clearing your throat you looked up through your lashes at the ship’s CMO, 

“In my defense, the ship was getting hit like a pinata and that hot pipe technically shouldn’t have been there,” you said cheekily. Doctor Leonard McCoy gave you a stern look, while M’Benga smirked as he readied a hypo. 

“That was four hours ago, why did you wait so long to seek medical attention Ensign?” McCoy barked out his frustration growing. You bit your lip trying to come up with a better reason than ‘because you make me nervous and I’m a complete chicken,’ 

“Well sickbay seemed a bit busy and I figured if I’m gonna wait may as well be useful so I continued working-” 

The silence was almost deafening. You could feel the tension and it wasn't the good kind either. 

“I’m making it worse aren’t I?” you asked nobody in particular. Christine and M’Benga both hummed in agreement, almost feeling bad for you. 

“Geoff, Chris can I have a moment with Ensign (Y/L/N)?” McCoy’s voice was tight, his eyes never leaving your face; which was red as your uniform. M’Benga set the bone regen aside and got up from his stool, he caught your eye and winked. Gritting your teeth you glared at his retreating back. Christine gave you a cheeky smile and subtly motioned for you to breathe as she walked through the open exam room door. It hissed shut behind her leaving you and McCoy alone in the cramped space. 

“How much trouble am I in?” you asked anxiously. McCoy sighed and sat down heavily on the empty stool by your bed. He reached over and grabbed the bone regen and gently placed it over your arm. 

“Fourth time this month (Y/N) what’s going on?” he asked, trying to meet your eyes. You avoided his gaze as much as possible but he was persistent. Biting your lip again you glared at the biobed monitor when it showed that your heart rate increased. 

“I don't know what's wrong with me,” 

“Come on (Y/N) you’re not just coming in here to see my pretty face,” McCoy teased dryly while he skimmed through your medical file. You chuckled humorlessly, ‘Uh well, about that,’ you thought with a snort.  

McCoy looked up from his PADD at your very unladylike snort. Setting the device down he leaned forward making you want to lean back or at least get your heart under control. Your cheeks flared again and the twitch of McCoy’s lips was almost unnoticeable. 

"Well, if you're going to keep ending up here you may as well call me Leonard. You make me call you (Y/N) after all" 

“Leonard,” you tested the name carefully before nodding. Leonard smirked after you said his name like he enjoyed the sound of it coming from you. He pulled a tray full of supplies over to his side and picked up a hypospray, 

“Your burn got infected, I want to give you some antibiotics to help clear it up,” 

You nodded and tilted your head to the side so he could get to your neck. Leonard brushed your hair away and gently injected you with the medicine. He rubbed the injection site easing the sting, “Are you in any pain?” Leonard asked, eyeing your fluttering heart rate. 

Huffing out a breath you shook your head, “No I’m just-I have to get back to being a klutz in engineering. Thanks for patching me up again,” you hopped off the bed only wobbling for a second. Leonard grabbed your elbow to steady you an order to stay already on his lips. 

“I’m fine, you’re fine, we’re all fine and not-damn it stop looking at me like that!” you growled. Leonard smiled fully at that, 

“Like what?” he asked innocently knowing exactly what you meant. 

“Like I dunno! Like you want to…” you spluttered trailing off. Scratching the back of your neck you looked away trying to find the right words, sighing at your scrambled brain you did the only thing that could get your point across. Grabbing him by his blue shirt you pulled him forward so he was almost off the stool he was sitting on,

“Like this,” you breathed before capturing his lips with your own.

 You let him go after a minute, red-faced you looked up. He had a look of complete surprise and a stiff posture; you immediately regretted your actions. Rejection coursed through you as you back away toward the door, 

“Now that I made it weird, I’m going to make my exit,” you said hitting the door control so they hissed open. Halfway out of the room you felt a hand grab your uniform and a strong tug pulled you backward. Yelping indignantly you found yourself in the exam room again and the door firmly closed.  

“Wha-” 

You were pressed up against the wall by the biobed with his lips on yours. Gasping into his mouth you reached up and threaded your hands into his hair. Leonard took that as an invitation to explore your mouth as he moved his hands to your hips. 

Pulling back Leonard rested his forehead against yours as you both tried to catch your breath. “Please be more careful, okay darlin’?” 

“I make no promises,” you murmured letting your hands slide down from his hair so they rested on his chest. You smiled at his annoyed expression, 

“But I’ll try,” 

Leonard hummed lowering his head so he could whisper against your neck making promises of his own.

 Kissing you gently one more time he took his leave tossing an “I’ll see you tonight for dinner,” over his shoulder. 

You stalked past the nurse’s station where Christine and M’Benga sat chatting quietly. They both looked up at your approach. 

“Not. A. Word,” you growled at the blonde woman who merely smirked her eyes fixed upon the bruised spot just below your ear. After you fled back down to engineering Geoff groaned as Christine victoriously handed him a stack of PADDS full of reports that need to be done. 

Tags:

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Prompts:

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Star Trek X Reader: @lumar014ad

[buckysgoldenheart]

Unexpectedly Bitten

Vampire!Henry Cavill x Reader

Summary: Your ex gets into some trouble with Vampires, and his mistakes lead the bloodsuckers back to you. After seeing you, one vampire gets a little attached and he’s taking his time deciding what he plans to do with you, but whatever it is, you’re not afraid. In fact, you might just be a little attached to him too.

Warnings: cursing, smut, violence. (Count on spelling mistakes or repeating words too often. it’s very likely.)

Notes: Let me emphasize this: there is little rhyme or reason to the way this story is broken into parts. I did my best though, and I stuck to 7. I tried not to make each part too long.

This is a Vampire!Henry x Reader story where each chapter, while chronological, is a different conversation or event during the course of their evolving relationship. 

Words: 2045

Part 6: Out of Time

You laid facing each other on Henry’s plush mattress you’d somehow made it to as the night went on, while he ran his fingers through your messy, sex-crazed hair. Three times took everything out of you, but you hadn’t slept a wink, afraid of what another day gone by would mean. He said you had to go back, but it would have to be before the five a.m. summer sunrise tomorrow or you would be stuck until night, when the Lord arrived.

You wanted to be stuck with him. Stuck in his bed, in his arms. Stuck to the life you’d been living since he took you. And you hoped everything between you was enough to convince him, to squash his fear, and believe in himself to protect you.

“I don’t want to be without you,” He whispered.

“Then don’t be without me,” You said, tracing over his bottom lip with your thumb, savoring the way those words passed through them moments before. Your bite had already healed, and it made you want to make another.

“Lamb—” You covered his mouth with your hand, fearing what he may say.

After a beat, Henry gently removed that hand and placed a kiss on your palm before pressing it against his heart.

“It’s so strange,” You said.

“What is?”

“Stories say a vampire’s heart is ripped from their chest when they are turned, that the holes are filled with hatred for humans. But yours beats as strong as anyone else’s.” Your fingers on his skin practically vibrated from the intense thumping.

“This heart has been living for hundreds of years, you know.” He smiled. “You’d think it’d be old, worn out, but…I don’t think it could ever get to that point if you’re around.” Then the smile faded as he gripped your hand harder, and said, “I have to take you back today.”

“Henry—”

“No,” He shook his head. “My turn now. You must listen to me, Lamb.” You looked away but he tilted your face back to his. “He comes tomorrow,” He said, emphasizing each word.

The tears threatened to sting sharper than they ever had before, as if you needed a reminder that this loss—the loss of Henry—would be the worst you’d faced yet. You did not need that reminder, and you cursed the tears. “Then bring me back after he’s gone.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?” You practically choked trying to get the sound out.

“Because Elec was suspicious when he saw you. I’ll be watched for some time and if they catch me bringing you back, they’ll know I didn’t drain you and they’ll kill you anyway.”

Your cheeks began to burn from the hot downpour of tears coating them. “Henry…”

He couldn’t wipe the droplets from your skin fast enough, like he knew they were hurting you. “I don’t want this either.”

“How…How long would it be until I could see you again?”

“I don’t know,” He said, kissing you hard to kill your sob.

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

You convinced him to let you stay until night. But it wasn’t so hard after getting him drunk off of the feel of you sweetly nipping at his neck. ‘What’s another few hours,’ He’d said in that raspy, lust-drenched voice, then pulled your body on top of his and kissed you. There was no reason to leave a second before you had to, but you knew it was pushing Henry to the brink. It was a stress on his shoulders that you hated to admit would not be relieved until you were gone.

But as it would turn out, a few hours could make all the difference. A few hours full of selfish choices has the power to make or break your entire world.

Henry was deep inside of you, your breaths mixing as you ground your hips back and forth on top of him. His hold on your hips was beautifully tight, but it turned painful the instant Chris barged through the door to Henry’s room. Fear struck your vampire’s core at the expression on his friend’s face, and he rushed to cover you as you lifted off of him.

“What is it?” Henry asked, sitting up fast; the thick blankets pooling above his hips. You couldn’t see his face, but the agitation in his voice made your lungs collapse.

Chris tossed you a terrified glance, and said to you both, “We are out of time.”

You weren’t so sure Henry hadn’t lied when he said his heart wouldn’t die as long as you were around. You could practically feel it withering. He looked back at you. “Stay here,” he said, shoving the covers off his legs and yanking his boxers on. He threw the rest of his clothes on his body and walked to you, cupping your face in his hands and giving you a quick kiss. “Promise me you won’t move; you won’t make a sound.”

You nodded.

“Say it!”

“I promise.”

He took a deep breath and kissed you once more, then jogged out the door after Chris.

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

Long silver hair draped over the slim shoulders of the self-appointed yet widely accepted vampire Lord. His height landed somewhere between Henry’s and Elec’s, but despite his size, he emanated a power that could crumble the walls of Henry’s home until the roof caved in; a roof that would cave in on the home you were currently in. For more than one reason, Henry knew he had to tread lightly.

The Lord smiled--his fangs a little longer, slightly sharper than most--when Chris returned to the living room with Henry in tow. “You certainly know how to make you master wait,” Elias said in such an even, unthreatening tone it made Henry’s stomach quiver.

“Forgive me. I was expecting you tomorrow.”

A well-manicured eyebrow arched in what appeared to be genuine surprise. “Is that so?”

“A mistake on my part, I’m sure,” Henry said, gesturing toward one of the couches, inviting the Lord to sit as tradition expected.

Elias sat, pleased, and crossed one long leg over the other. His Amber eyes--the color of the burning sun at dusk—scanned the room. “Still not a touch of modernization in this home, is there?”

“No real reason to change much,” Chris said with an attempt at a casual shrug. “We don’t get visitors.”

Elias’s eyes pierced Henry’s like a dagger to the gut. “Oh no?”

“No,” Chris affirmed, but Henry didn’t miss the small smirk stretching across Elec’s pale, thin lips.

Elias’s mouth twitched to the side before settling into a frown. “You see, that’s not what I heard. I heard you’ve had quite a…unique visitor as of late. An extended-stay guest, some might say.”

Neither Chris nor Henry answered, both unable to find the oxygen in the air to do so.

“Where is the human, boys?”

“Gone,” Henry managed to say.

“Gone or dead?”

“What does it matter how I word it?”

“How you word it is everything,” The Lord replied. “After all, Henry, we all know ‘gone’ and ‘dead’ are not the same. So, I’ll ask again.” He clicked his tongue. “Where is the human?”

“Dead, then.”

Elias sighed in sincere disappointment and gave a brief nod to Elec, who disappeared to scour the home.

“She’s not here,” Henry said, trying to restrain his panic.

“Henry…” Elias frowned again, like a disappointed parent at their child’s transparent lie.

Henry didn’t know what to do. He felt useless, weak. If he ran to find you before Elec could, then it would give you away. If he held his breath and prayed you hid well enough for Elec to pass over you, there might be a chance; though slim, it was all Henry could place his hope in. But in the end, what he saw ripped his heart from his chest.

Elec only tsked as he carried you into the room, your body wrapped tight in Henry’s bedsheet. “Didn’t even bother to hide her, Hen? You must not care for her very much. Although, I suppose the look on your face suggests otherwise." You were set on your feet and Elec held firmly to your hand as if he were escorting you. The blank look in your eyes made Henry’s body freeze over. It was the look humans only get if their minds have been blocked by a vampires’ will. Elec looked to Elias. “I told you he loves her.”

“I’ll put her back where I found her.” Henry tried to keep his voice steady as his eyes stayed glued to your glazed over ones. “Please.”

“We all know that’s not how this works.” Elias stood, pulling on the cuffs of his coat until they straightened down to his wrists. “Elec explained everything. You got your one chance to dispose of her, and you failed to take advantage of it. She needs to be made an example of. Now, stay,” He commanded Henry like a dog, keeping his feet from taking another step.

Henry practically doubled over at the sight of Elias’s fingers wrapping around your slender neck, as a silent sob prepared to destroy him from the inside out. Chris moved to Henry and threw his arms around his shoulders while Henry cried ‘Please’ over and over like a man with a broken mind.

“Be thankful, Henry.” Elias said. “Be happy she’ll die while in the trance instead of flailing and sobbing like a small lamb at slaughter time.”

There was no suspense, no drama to the way your neck snapped. It was just a crack, like a lightning strike in an empty field; no other sound around until your body and Henry’s knees hit the floor in sync with thunderous thuds. Your death was not meant to be a long, drawn out torture. It was to make a point; and it certainly had.

Through the cloud of his tears, Henry noticed Elias crouch down in front of him. “I am not an evil man, Henry,” Elias said, cupping Henry’s cheek, but his blue eyes couldn’t be forced from your body, broken on the floor. “I understand how you must be feeling. The majority of us were in love with a human once long ago. But they made us weak, and a weak vampire is a useless vampire. We had grown so accustomed to placing our humans on a pedestal that we were blind to the flip it caused in our power. We’d begun to bow to them, but now we have regained our strength. Over the last few centuries, we’ve come to show them that we are the ones in power again; that their species serves us one purpose. Our laws surrounding humans were put in place for a reason, Henry. That, I know you know. However…” Elias glanced back at your body. “I see you have lost so much here today. So, I will ignore your blatant disrespect for your Lord and the law, as well as for your lack of offerings.” Elias then stood, dusting off and smoothing his already wrinkleless coat. “I visit every quarter-century, and you’ve been so good up until now, Henry. This truly is a disappointment.”

The second the Lord and his loyal pup were out the door, Henry stood and rushed to your side, only to collapse back on his knees again. He touched you delicately as if he might break another of your bones, then framed your face with his hands, cradling it with care.

“Henry…” Chris said, but received no answer. “Henry!”

Henry’s head shot around with a growl when Chris’s touch met his shoulder. “Don’t!”

“If you’re going to do it, do it now, before it’s too late.”

Henry’s face fell to anguish as he looked back at you, and he softly brushed your hair away from your face. He was losing valuable time, and there was a deadline for this sort of thing; one that could not be toyed with.

His kiss landed on your forehead, your cheek, your mouth, then he grabbed your wrist with shaking fingers and brought it to his lips. He kissed the inner side of it for a long beat.

“Forgive me, my love. I did not want this for you,” He whispered against your skin before sinking his piercing fangs into your delicate flesh.

---

tags:  @agniavateira​ @tumblenewby @forthebrokenheartedthings​ @summersong69​ @starlite13​ @mstgsmy​ @purplelove75​ @defffcc​ @the-soot-sprite​ @kissthatlifeaway @atomicpaperhairdouniversity​ @aquariuslavenderhoney​ @harrysthiccthighss​ @the-problem-of-leisure​ @jimmypagesandbrianmayshair​ @readermia​ @angelofthorr​ @itmejado​ @caro-jean​ @raven-black102​ @itty-bitty-dancer​ @grungeisntmything​ @wolfiepirate​ @scuzmonkie @heartfullofl @wanderlustkitkat @maan24​ @furievonalexandria​ @posiemax​ @sweetybuzz25​ @iamthetwickster

[chicgeekgirl89]

Where Hope is Left So Incomplete

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Characters: Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Melissa McCall, Chris Argent, Noah Stilinski, McCall Pack

Rating: T

Summary: Derek has one hand on the wheel and with the other he’s calling the hospital, speaking fast, leaving out any details that might raise suspicion. A werewolf at the wheel is definitely faster than an ambulance, but it’s still taking far too long. Scott is literally holding his friend together, he can hear Stiles’ heartbeat growing weaker with every passing minute, and despite his best efforts there’s blood leaking everywhere. “Derek,” Scott says as they squeal around another curve, “Derek I think he’s dying.”

A/N: This fic takes place maybe a year or two after the events of "Wolves of War." It assumes Isaac returned at some point, Stiles never went back to the FBI, Derek stuck around, and the war against supernaturals continues. Title taken from "Running With the Wolves" by Aurora.

Read on AO3

It’s an ambush. Or an assassination, Scott’s not sure which. He lets out a roar, eyes blazing, fangs bared, as steel bites deeply into his flesh. Turning he catches a hunter directly in the chest with his claws and hurls him through the air. The gash stings, blood dripping down his arm, swirling through dirt and sweat and turning his skin into a macabre painting. At least the knife is free of wolfsbane, the familiar burn is missing from his wounds.

His head is throbbing, it feels like his brain is being squeezed by a vice and it’s messing with his ability to focus, to hear, to sense where everyone else is. They’ve got some kind of device, an upgrade of the ones the Argents used to use and damn is it working. 

He rips one of the devices from the ground and hurls it against a tree feeling some satisfaction when it smashes into a thousand pieces against the trunk. It gives him enough relief to take a beat and assess their situation; Derek is thrashing another guy nearby, and from the sound of things, he’s winning. What’s become suspiciously absent are Stiles’ yells. Scanning the woods he can’t make out his friend’s gangly form anywhere. Hopefully that means Stiles has done the smart thing and tucked himself away somewhere that the hunters can’t find him.

Monroe’s lackeys don’t care that Stiles is human, they’re just as happy to take him out as any of the rest of the McCall pack and they’ve made that perfectly clear on more than one occasion. Scott tries not to think about the fact that Chris needed surgery on his back last month for an injury he’d received at the hands of a hunter. Or that they tried to take Lydia six months ago and were only stopped by Derek’s quick thinking.

They’re not supposed to be here. The pack has a perimeter and they’ve been diligent about not letting anyone through. It’s been over a year since anyone tried to attack them on their own soil. This is their turf, they’ve staked their claim. It’s a safe space, a haven, a promise of home and family and respite. At least it was. Until tonight.

Scott tries not to think about what it means that this group has gotten bold enough to sneak into the preserve in the dead of night. Tries not to think what would have happened if it were some of his younger charges who’d been caught unaware on patrol. As it is he and Derek are having a hard time holding them off.

His moment to plan is over as he’s assaulted again by a rather beefy hunter, one who is holding a knife so large it may as well be a sword. Scott lets out another roar, claws slashing mercilessly.

It’s then he hears a familiar yell and realizes that Stiles has not gone into hiding as directed, but has instead attempted to get the drop on the hunters. And of course he is armed with absolutely nothing but his trusty baseball bat, although given that he has the element of surprise, it’s working surprisingly well.

He drops two hunters in one, fell swoop and then looks up at Scott with a triumphant grin. “I knew this would come in handy someday!” he yells, raising the bat high.

Scott sends him a grin back. It’s a mistake, a horribly foolish mistake he realizes later. If he hadn’t been so caught up in the moment, if he hadn’t been so damn cocky about their ability to hold the line, what happened next wouldn’t have come to pass.

There’s a terrible, high pitched whine that has him clapping his hands over his ears in pain, and then the world explodes. 

Scott feels his feet briefly leave the ground and then it comes rushing up to meet him again, knocking all the air from his lungs. He rolls onto his back, head spinning, as he tries to get a handle on himself. 

Air slowly leaks back into his chest and he heaves a breath, pushing himself up onto his elbow. He can see Derek doing the same, several feet from him, shaking his own head as if he can’t quite remember what’s going on.

“You okay?” Scott chokes out.

“Yeah,” Derek says, though his face is bloody and Scott can see some shrapnel has torn through his shirt. 

Scott is pretty sure he’s broken a few ribs himself, he can feel them grating in his chest as he continues to suck in air, but everything else seems to be intact. The hunters…not so much. There are several bodies parts lying around and considering his and Derek’s are still attached, it seems the hunters were felled by their own weapons. “What the hell was that?” he asks, attempting to get up.

“Some kind of bomb,” Derek says, getting to his own feet and scanning the area. “We need to get out of here.”

There’s a whimper, a pathetic, horrible, pained whimper and Scott comes fully back to himself because he knows, he knows without even looking who that agonized, awful sound is coming from. “Stiles!” he cries, spotting him sprawled and broken at the base of a large boulder.

He stumbles toward his friend, his own body perhaps more injured than he initially thought, and falls to his knees, eyes widening in shock and horror.

Stiles’ eyes are closed and his left leg lies at an awkward angle. Scott knows without even touching it that it’s broken, maybe in more than one place. But worse, so much worse, is the blood pouring out of Stiles’ abdomen. His shirt has gone dark with it and there’s already a puddle forming on the ground next to him. 

“Stiles,” Scott whispers placing his hands over the wound, pressing down, trying with all his might to keep Stiles’ life from flowing out of him. 

Stiles lets out a pained cry at the pressure and without even thinking Scott begins to pull, thick ropes of dark pain swirling under his skin.

“Scott,” Derek drops beside him, eyes still scanning the area for danger. “Scott we need to get him out of here.”

“We can’t move him,” Scott’s voice cracks in panic, but even in the midst of all this he still has a nurse for a mother and her words come tumbling out now. “He could have a spinal injury.”

“It’s not going to matter if he has a broken spine if we all die out here,” Derek says urgently.

He’s right, of course he’s right, but Scott is having a really hard time formulating any sort of plan right now. You think he’d be used to it, watching those he loves suffer for his choices, but he isn’t. It never gets any better, it just makes the hole inside his chest larger and larger until it feels like it will swallow him—

“Scott!”

Derek’s sharp tone brings Scott back to himself and he takes a shaky breath, trying to formulate a plan. “Yeah,” he says. “You’re right. We have to get him out of here.”

His whole body is screaming at him in pain but he manages to get Stiles into his arms. “You want me to take him?” Derek asks. 

His own face is pale and he’s limping, clearly in no better shape than Scott. “I’ve got him,” Scott says firmly, even though his vision is swimming a little bit and his ribs are burning inside his chest.

Stiles lets out another whimper and Scott shifts him until his fingers find the bare flesh of Stiles’ arm and he resumes sucking pain from him as fast as he can.

It’s an endless trek to the car for all of them. Derek appears to be struggling, he’s clearly more hurt than he’s let on, they have all just been blown to bits after all. And Scott…Scott’s only focus is on Stiles and making sure that he gets jostled as little as possible as they stumble across the forest floor. 

He hasn’t woken up or said anything, just letting out an occasional moan or gasp of pain and it’s beyond unnerving that the usually chatty Stiles has gone silent. Only his noisy breaths confirm that he’s still alive as they stumble along over the uneven ground.

By the time they reach the car Derek looks a little better, but Stiles has gone so pale it’s taking Scott back to the nogitsune days and it terrifies him. “How’s he doing?” Derek asks as he hits the gas.

“Drive fast,” is all Scott can say as he uses one hand to keep pressure on the wound and the other to sap pain from Stiles as fast as he can manage. 

Derek has one hand on the wheel and with the other he’s calling the hospital, speaking fast, leaving out any details that might raise suspicion. A werewolf at the wheel is definitely faster than an ambulance, but it’s still taking far too long. Scott is literally holding his friend together, he can hear Stiles’ heartbeat growing weaker with every passing minute, and despite his best efforts there’s blood leaking everywhere. “Derek,” Scott says as they squeal around another curve, “Derek I think he’s dying.”

The wounds in Stiles’ abdomen are so eerily similar to Allison’s and Scott feels panic rise up in him again. He cannot lose someone again. He literally can’t survive it. Not this time. Not Stiles.

Derek spares a half second to glance back and then presses the pedal all the way to the floor. “Just hold on.”

“Derek, I think…I don’t know…should I—“ Scott trips over his own words, panic making them lie heavy in his throat. “Derek I can’t lose him.”

“I know,” Derek says. “I know, just hang on.”

“I think I…should I give him the bite?” 

Even through the tears in his eyes he sees Derek stiffen in his seat. “Scott…”

It’s not something Stiles has ever wanted, something he’s flat out turned it down on more than one occasion. Stiles is not a supernatural. He’s just Stiles. He doesn’t need claws or fangs and he doesn’t want them. But Scott…Scott doesn’t want a world without Stiles in it.

“Derek,” Scott says urgently. He needs some guidance here. He needs Derek to tell him what to do.

“No.”

The weak, raspy response isn’t from Derek and Scott’s eyes drop downward to find Stiles staring up at him, eyes glazed with pain. “No I don’t—I don’t want it,” he rasps, sucking in a rattling breath.

“Stiles we may not have a choice,” Scott tells him, voice breaking.

“There’s alway….a choice.” Stiles’ eyes squeeze shut and he lets out a guttural moan. Blood bubbles from his lips.“Scott…Scott it hurts.”

“I know, I know it does,” Scott squeezes his arm more tightly and pulls harder, faster, drawing pain like a river through his own veins.

He can feel the wounds on his back and arms, the ones that had started to knit back together, begin to reopen, blood trickling across his skin, but he doesn’t stop, not even when he begins to gasp for air himself, breath coming in short pants as the pain goes all the way to his core. It’s like every nerve ending is on fire but he doesn’t stop, not for anything. Stiles doesn’t deserve to be in pain. 

“Scott.” 

His name is a terrified whimper and it brings tears to Scott’s eyes. “I’m right here Stiles. You’re going to be okay, I promise.”

Stiles’ eyes slide closed and his jaw goes slack. Scott hears his heartbeat stutter, then sluggishly let out another beat, as if it’s a candle trying to withstand a hurricane. “Derek!” Scott yells terror filling the car.

“We’re here!”

They screech into the parking lot and Derek is out of the car practically before he’s stopped it, ripping open the door so that it likely won’t ever close right again, and helping Scott pull Stiles from the car. If Scott had half a thought to spare he’d think about how many times they’ve lived through this exact moment, a mad dash to the hospital, an anxious wait for results, answers, hope.

But as it is he can hardly think anymore because all that matters is Stiles and drawing as much of his pain into himself as he possibly can.

“We need help!” Derek yells as they burst through the doors and within seconds Stiles is on a gurney and being pulled toward the ER. Scott runs alongside him, hand still glued to Stiles’ bloody, limp arm. 

“You need to stay here,” one of the nurses tells him. Her name’s Claire, Scott somehow remembers. She’s in his mom’s book club. “Let him go. We’ve got him Scott.”

But he can’t. He can’t let his best friend go through those doors. Because if he does…that might be the last time he ever sees him.

“Scott!” Derek is right in his face, grabbing onto his arm and wrenching it away from Stiles because apparently Derek has the presence of mind not to lose his shit right here in the hospital emergency room.

Scott pulls away from him and reels back a bit, leaning against the wall, panting, eyes glued to the doors they’ve just pushed Stiles through. “Scott?” Derek is back in his face, eyes worried. “Scott are you okay?”

Scott can’t answer, his body has gone oddly numb, his chest tight. Black spots dance in front of his eyes and he can’t move, can barely even breathe. “Scott how much of his pain did you take?” Dereks asks, worry increasing by the second.

Scott looks at him vacantly. “All of it.”

And then he’s falling, Derek’s arms catching him as he floats away into nothing.

When he wakes up he feels weak. He can’t even remember the last time he’s felt like this. It’s like every bit of strength has been sapped from his body. He can barely even lift his eyelids, let alone a limb. Everything aches and throbs as if he’s burning up with fever or been hit by a truck.

He lets out a half a grunt as he forces his eyes open. “Easy,” Derek says and after a moment Scott’s vision clears enough to make out the other wolf sitting in a chair at the foot of his bed. He’s in a hospital room hooked up to several monitors, the cheap sheets scratching against his skin.

“Stiles?” Scott asks, his voice a broken whisper.

Derek shakes his head and Scott’s heart does an unpleasant lurch. “He’s in surgery. It’s…they’re still working on him,” Derek says heavily.

Scott looks up at the ceiling and tries to breathe, tries to stop the horrible sense of dread bubbling in his stomach. “What happened?” he finally manages.

“You almost killed yourself,” Derek says it mildly, in that annoyingly superior way he does when he thinks you’ve done something really stupid that he would never, ever stoop to do. But Scott can sense his restless fear under the surface, masked by sarcasm and biting comments. “You’re lucky you’re an alpha and Stiles is just a human. You know better than to take that much pain. You drained yourself dry. They had to restart your heart and give you stitches. You literally had to be sewn back together Scott.”

“I didn’t want him to be in pain,” Scott says, wincing as he tries to get into a more upright position. It’s futile, his limbs refuse to cooperate.

“Right because two dead pack members is so much better than one.” Derek glares at him. “It’s going to take you a week to recover from this. You couldn’t wolf out right now even if it was a lunar eclipse on a full moon.”

Scott sighs. He knows Derek is right, but it doesn’t change anything. “He shouldn’t even be a part of all this.”

“Yeah well, he may not be anymore.” Scott looks up and finds a glimmer of darkness passing over Derek’s face. For all his bravado and stoicism, Derek has a soft spot for Stiles. They all do. And losing him…it would be like losing the sun.

There’s a buzzing next to him and he turns his head enough to see his phone light up. “Oh yeah, Lydia called. About forty-five times,” Derek says.

Scott bites back a groan and through sheer force of will pulls himself upward, reaching for the phone. Derek under-exaggerated. He has over a hundred text messages from Lydia, Malia, Chris, Isaac, Liam…pretty much every single member of the pack. Plus his voicemail is full and there’s a backlog of missed calls. Most of those are also from Lydia.

“She’s on her way,” Derek says, holding up his own phone. “She calls for updates every ten minutes.”

Lydia’s at school. Safe. Away from all this. Or at least she was. 

“That’s Lydia,” Scott says, stifling a groan as he reaches for his pants.

“Whoa, hey, what are you doing?” Derek gets out of his chair, hand outstretched to stop him.

“I need to check on Stiles,” Scott says.

“Um, hell no,” Derek says firmly, pushing him back against the pillows. “You basically died. Again. You need to stay right here.”

His mom chooses that moment to enter and Scott feels immediate worry. “Mom, Stiles, is he—“

“Still in surgery,” she says, her face tight and drawn. “How are you feeling? And don’t give me that ‘I’m fine’ crap. I swear if you were still a kid I would ground you forever for doing this to me again.”

But despite the sharpness of her words, her hands smooth his bedsheets, fussing with them and his IV line until she’s satisfied everything is in its place. “I’m sorry,” Scott says.

She sighs and squeezes his arm gently. “I know you are. I know you all are.”

Scott swings his eyes back to Derek. “The perimeter?”

“Isaac and Malia went to check it out. Chris is going to meet them,” Derek says. “He’ll make sure no one else gets hurt.”

For the first time all night Scott feels relief. If Chris is there, the rest of the pack is safe for now. He’ll prevent anyone else from from getting blown up or shot or stabbed. “I need to get back out there.”

“What you need,” Melissa corrects him, tucking the blankets a little tighter as if that will somehow keep him down, “is to rest. All of you,” she says, shooting a pointed look at Derek that says she is not, and has never been, fooled by his bravado. “Stiles is going to need you here when he wakes up.”

Scott does feel exhausted. It’s as if all the strength has disappeared and even his bones feel bruised.

“Where’s the Sheriff?” Scott asks, thinking guiltily of the continued agony they put that man through. 

“He’s in the waiting room,” Melissa says.

Derek stands immediately. “I’ll go sit with him.”

Scott nods his thanks. The sheriff is pack. You don’t let family sit alone through something like this. 

“I have to go,” Melissa tells him. “But you stay put all right? None of that disappearing from the hospital or anything. Let someone else handle it for a change.”

He equal parts wants to protest that he doesn’t do that…and do that very thing. But right now his body feels glued to the bed. “Mom, I’m sorry,” he says again, because he is. So sorry. For everything.

She runs a gentle hand through his hair. “It’s not your fault. Get some rest.”

He’s sure he won’t be able to sleep but it’s possible she’s slipped a sedative into his IV because when he opens his eyes again he can tell several hours have passed and now Liam is at the foot of his bed. “Hey man,” he says worriedly as Scott opens his eyes. “You okay?”

Better maybe, okay definitely not. His body feels less leaden and the itching in his wounds tells him they’re finally starting to knit back together. “I’m fine,” Scott says, this time managing to get himself into an upright position that somewhat resembles sitting, although it fucking hurts to do it. “Any word on Stiles?”

Liam shakes his head and Scott feels another spike of fear. It’s been too long, way too long. Scott grits his teeth and slides his legs over the side of the bed, ignoring his shaking limbs and throbbing head. “Oh, I—“ Liam blocks his path and looks at him sheepishly. “Derek says I’m not supposed to let you leave.”

“I’m your alpha,” Scott says, pulling a card he rarely does. He’s not here to order people around and make them do things they don’t want to. “You listen to me, not Derek.”

“Yeah, I know,” Liam says, not moving. “But uh, your mom also told me not to let you move and…” he leans close, his voice low, eyes darting to the door, “I’m way more scared of her than I am of you.”

He’s an alpha werewolf and a grown adult, but apparently his mother stills runs his life. Perfect. Normally he’d ignore Liam and leave anyway, but he’s pretty sure a stiff breeze could knock him over right now so if it comes to a fight, Liam is definitely going to win. 

The door to his room opens and Chris comes in looking battle weary. “Is everyone all right?” Scott asks immediately.

“Everyone’s fine. We’ve got guards all around the perimeter, human and supernatural. No one’s getting through the line again tonight,” Chris says. “We swept the whole area and didn’t find any more devices. I left Malia and Isaac out there. Theo was on his way too.”

Scott feels a modicum of relief. “Thank you,” he says, throat thick with grief and fear. 

Chris nods to Liam. “Give us a minute?”

Liam heads out the door looking relieved. It must not be super fun to be on babysitting duty. How are you?” Chris asks, stepping closer. “Heard you did a number on yourself.”

Scott finds he can’t speak, tears rising up to the surface. He’s tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of losing. Tired of always being one step behind Monroe and her minions. Tired of worrying day and night that if he makes one wrong move he’ll lose everyone he loves. Tired of being the one everyone turns to for answers, when he clearly doesn’t have any.

And now his best friend, a person who deserves more than anything to be safe and happy, is dying somewhere in this hospital and there’s nothing he can do about it. 

He folds, crumbling in on himself, hot tear stinging his eyes. Arms come around him, pulling him in for a tight hug, holding him like he’s a child again. “This is not your fault,” Chris says softly. “None of this is your fault.”

But it is. It all is. 

Scott finds himself clutching at Chris’ jacket, fingers clinging to the rough fabric, desperately needing something to hold onto. “I can’t lose him,” he manages to choke out.

Chris tightens his hold. “Stiles is a fighter. He may not be supernatural, but he’s overcome worse than this. You have to hold onto that.”

He wants to. God he wants to believe that everything is going to be all right. But things seem so bleak and hopeless. They’ve been fighting for so long and all they’ve got to show for it is battle weary fighters, some of them little more than kids, and a mountain of loss. 

Chris continues to speak, cutting through Scott’s strife and self pity. “You’re in the middle of a war. And I know how hopeless it seems. But you have right on your side. You have faith. You have love. All the other side has is fear. That’s a powerful motivator; but love, that’s a lot stronger. That’s an anchor. You know that. Allison knew that. Stiles knows that. So hold on. Hold on and rise up stronger to fight again.”

Scott takes a few shaky breaths and finally pulls away. Chris puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes gently. “You good?”

Scott nods and swipes at his face, wiping away the moisture there. The door opens and his mom walks in. “Oh, hey Chris,” she says in surprise. Her eyes find Scott. “Stiles is out of surgery.”

Scott sits up straighter. “Is he…?”

“Broken femur, three broken ribs, dislocated shoulder, internal organ damage, and a hell of a lot of blood loss,” she says frankly. “It would be easier to list things that weren’t damaged.”

“Is he…” Scott swallows, afraid of the answer, “Is he going to be all right?”

“They’ve got him in ICU. It’s touch and go right now.”

“Can I see him?”

Melissa’s eyes shift briefly to Chris and then back to Scott. “Honey they haven’t even let his dad go up yet. And you aren’t back to one hundred percent yet either.”

Waiting is agony. Scott’s only comfort over the next few days is that Derek frequently sneaks up to ICU and back out again giving them essentially the same report every time; “He looks like a ghost. He’s still breathing. His heart is still beating.”

People drift in and out of his hospital room, Lydia, Theo, Liam, Malia, Isaac, Corey, Mason, all of them stuck in some sort of zombie limbo, unable to find any light or joy in the situation.

Scott still hasn’t seen Noah. According to Derek he hasn’t left Stiles’ side, not a surprise to any of them. 

Scott feels himself improve physically day by day, but emotionally he’s a wreck. With every passing hour he feels the noose of guilt pull tighter around his neck. Even after his mom finally relents and gets him discharged, (at least this time they don’t have to explain his miraculous healing, there hasn’t been any) he stays at the hospital, wearing holes in the waiting room floor along with the rest of the pack. 

He’s beyond grateful to Chris who has completely taken charge of their refugees, controlling the border, checking in with other packs out of town, even calling the London pack and advising them that they might need backup. 

It’s three days later when Melissa comes briskly into the waiting room, a tentative smile on her face. “He’s awake,” she says and the room lets out a collective sigh. “He talked to Noah for a few minutes. They’re running some more tests now but things look good.” She takes in the bedraggled and traumatized group. “You all should go home.”

A few of them do, reluctantly and only at Scott’s insistence. Malia and Isaac have been splitting time between the hospital and patrolling and neither of them look like they’ve slept or had real food in days. But Derek still doesn’t go anywhere and Lydia is glued to the hospital as well. 

It’s another day before Stiles is finally moved out of ICU and they’re allowed to see him one at a time. Scott lets Lydia go first and she returns, eyes even redder than before. “You okay?” Scott asks.

She nods but he can tell she’s struggling. “He just looks so…” she can’t finish and it lodges a lump in his throat as he walks down the hall to his best friend’s room.

He knows what Lydia means immediately. Just looking at Stiles is painful. He leg is elevated and he’s so pale he practically blends into the sheets and pillows. 

Noah is sitting by his bedside looking completely exhausted and Scott feels a familiar jolt of guilt in his gut. “Sheriff,” he says softly by way of greeting.

“Hey Scott.” The sheriff’s voice is rough. “He just went back to sleep.”

“That’s okay,” Scott says, eyes trained on Stiles’ face. It’s enough to see him, to hear his heartbeat, slow but steady. 

“How are you?” Noah asks. “I heard you got pretty beat up too.”

“I’m fine,” Scott says. He’s definitely not telling the sheriff that the most he’s managed to do in the last couple days is pop his claws and even that was a huge effort that had him doubled over and panting afterward. “Sheriff Stilinski I—“

Noah shakes his head. “Don’t even go there,” he says. “We all know who’s to blame for this and it sure as hell isn’t you.”

Then why does it feel like his fault? “He should have gone back to D.C.,” Scott says softly. “He would have been safe.”

“He was going to work for the FBI Scott,” Noah says. “That’s not exactly a guarantee either. And he’s only ever wanted to be here with you.”

The words do little to soothe Scott’s anguished spirit, but his time is running out, other people want to come and visit. He reaches out a hand to touch Stiles’ arm, a single spot that isn’t covered in tubes or bandages. He pulls, gently. There’s not much pain, the morphine and other drugs are working, but he takes what little there is.

He immediately feels light headed and breathless, like someone punched him right in the gut. His knees go weak, but he locks them into place and doesn’t stop until Stiles’ face smoothes out completely and he relaxes into the pillows.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers out, voice choking on tears that are once again threatening to fall.

He turns to go but spots dance before his eyes and he reaches out, grabbing onto the IV pole for support. 

“Scott,” the sheriff is on his feet, hands reaching for him, his haggard face full of new concern.

“I’m okay,” Scott gasps, letting the IV pole go, trying to steady himself on his feet. “It’s fine.”

And then Derek is there, shoving an arm under his shoulder. “Are you trying to kill yourself?” he asks in exasperation.

“How did you—“

“I heard your heartbeat,” Derek says. “I had a feeling you would do something like this. Come on, you need to sit down.”

“What happened?” Lydia asks as Derek dumps a practically boneless Scott in a waiting room chair.

“Someone decided to take Stiles’ pain. Again,” Derek says. It comes out as a growl. Derek is furious.

Scott’s head is spinning and his chest has gone tight again. “Scott what the hell is wrong with you?” Malia asks. 

“He doesn’t deserve to be in pain,” Scott groans.

“Well neither do you!” Liam says. “Scott if you can’t help protect the pack, that’s really bad!”

“Yeah, not to put any pressure on you, but Liam is kind of a crappy alpha,” Malia says, not nearly as quietly as she thinks.

“I’m right here!” Liam fires back indignantly.

“He’s moody,” Malia mouths, eyes wide as she points at him to convey her point.

“Scott you need to go home,” Derek cuts in. 

“I can’t leave,” Scott manages. “He needs me.”

“He has literally the entire rest of the pack here,” Malia says.

“Scott,” Lydia’s voice is soft and she puts a hand on his arm, large eyes worried. They seem to be in that state constantly lately. Just another thing to add to his list. “You can go. We’ve got this. We won’t let anything happen to him.”

They don’t leave him much choice, especially not when Derek and Liam haul him up and out to the car. He’s really going to have to work on instilling more loyalty in Liam, because one menacing glare from Derek and he’s following the former alpha’s bidding like a lapdog.

Scott’s asleep before they even leave the hospital and he doesn’t wake up until morning, still fully clothed in his bed, minus his sneakers. There’s a note from Derek threatening him with further bodily harm if he shows up at the hospital before noon and a sheepish text from Liam apologizing for his part in last night’s debacle. And for accidentally bashing Scott’s head into a doorframe as he carried him upstairs.

It’s actually a few days before he gets back to the hospital. He wants to check the borders himself, make sure they are well and truly safe for now. And that steamrolls into him checking in with the new pack members, the other refugees and scraps of packs that have made their way to the safe haven Beacon Hills has become. 

Lydia updates him practically hourly and he knows that Stiles is staying awake for longer periods, has managed to keep down solid food, is now able to feed himself, and hold a conversation. 

And still Scott doesn’t return. Somehow it was easier when Stiles was still unconscious. He didn’t have to look at his friend’s eyes, to see the pain and what was likely anger there. Because how could Stiles not secretly hate him? If it wasn’t for him, for the bite, they would have gone on living their lives none the wiser. Stiles would be an FBI Agent, he would be a vet, and they would have just…lived.

Now it feels like they’re cursed.

The reasons that kept him at the hospital are the same ones that now keep him away. It’s weird. Any one of their misguided guidance counselors would probably tell him he needs to talk about that and examine it, but there’s no time. There isn’t time for anything but making sure everyone is safe.

Until his phone buzzes with a message from Derek. He’s asking for you.

And he knows, he can’t put it off any longer.

He waits until night, until he gets confirmation that everyone has gone home. Everyone except Derek. Derek won’t leave Stiles unprotected.

Scott pauses outside the door, a pit in his stomach that feels like a rock. He takes a deep breath and pushes the door open. “Scottttiiiieeee.” Stiles is all smiles and Scott can smell the drugs in his blood that are keeping him like that.

“Hey buddy,” Scott says, trying to force a smile onto his own face. Maybe in his drugged up state Stiles won’t notice that it’s fake as hell.

Derek is standing broodily in the corner and Scott flashes him a grateful look. If he can’t be with Stiles, he’s glad someone is.

Stiles is apparently still with it enough to sense a conversation going on without him and he frowns. “Are you the reason I have a personal bodyguard?” he asks.

“Someone tried to blow you up Stiles,” Scott says.

“Us,” Stiles says, holding up a wobbly finger of correction. “They tried to blow us up. I was just the only one who didn’t magically heal.”

“Yeah, I know,” Scott says, the weariness in his soul pulling him further downward at this reminder of Stiles’ human fragility. 

Derek chooses that moment to slip out the door. 

Scott rubs his hands on his jeans, uncertainty running through him like a river. Stiles may be drugged, but he’s still Stiles. “You want to talk about it?” he asks.

Scott’s head snaps up and he meets his friend’s gaze, eyes sharp and knowing. “About what?” Scott asks, still trying to come off as fine.

“About why you haven’t come by in days so that I had to deal with Grumpy Cat’s rather intense presence at my bedside vigil. About why you’re standing there castigating yourself over something that isn’t your fault.”

“I’m not—“

“Scott.” Stiles gives him a look. 

He knows. Of course he knows.They’ve been best friends their whole lives, he knows Scott better than Scott knows himself. 

“This was…it was way too close this time Stiles,” Scott says on a rush of air. “I was holding you, feeling you die and there was nothing I could do. And all I could think about—“

He chokes on his own words, but fortunately Stiles never runs out of them. “You thought about Allison,” he says seriously.

“And Aidan, and Boyd, and Erica,” Scott continues. “Deucalion. Brett. Lori. Stiles…the list…it’s too long. And if you get added to it…”

“Then it will have been my choice,” Stiles says and it stops Scott cold. “Because I chose to stay and defend my friends and family. My choice Scott. Not yours.”

Oh. Oh. 

Stiles is still going. “You didn’t choose to get the bite. But you chose everything that came after. You chose to fight for the right things Scott. You chose not to be a monster. Not all monsters do monstrous things, right? Well I chose this. I chose Beacon Hills. I choose this pack. I choose you. I choose Lydia. I…” he pulls a face, “begrudgingly choose Derek. Because he’s big and menacing and good at keeping bad guys away.”

Scott cracks a real smile, a sliver of light stealing its way back into his soul. “He is good at that.”

“I do not choose Theo,” Stiles continues, on a roll now. “Ever. For any reason. I choose Jackson if and only if he stops being an asshole.”

“I got it Stiles,” Scott says, face begrudgingly pulling into a full on grin.

“You sure? Because I can keep going. Liam I can take or leave depending on the day and how annoying he’s being.”

“Stiles, I got it!” Scott says, a genuine chuckle sneaking out. 

“There he is,” Stiles says, a smile on his own face. “That’s the Scott McCall I know. No more Gloomy Gus around here all right?”

“Stiles you’re in a hospital bed. You broke practically every bone in your body and almost bled out. I have a reason to be a little upset.”

“But I’m fine.” He looks down at his bandage covered body and reconsiders. “Well I will be. And so will you. Not that you didn’t also try to kill yourself on my behalf.” Stiles raises his eyebrows and Scott winces. “Oh yeah. Derek filled me in. On everything.”

“I just…didn’t want you to be in pain.”

“Yeah, well, while I appreciate the ever present existence of pain drain, you really don’t need to sacrifice yourself on my behalf. Again.” Stiles looks down as his hands. “But thanks. If you guys hadn’t gotten me here so fast…”

“Yeah,” Scott says, his eyes burning again. He’s cried more in the last week than he has since Peter bit him.

“You don’t need to take all this on by yourself Scott,” Stiles says quietly. “And you can’t protect everyone from everything.”

It’s a bitter thing to hear and he swallows it down painfully. It’s not like it’s the first time he’s been reminded of this, but he so badly wants to keep them all safe, to take them all back to a time before fangs and claws and glowing eyes ruled their lives. 

“Scott?” Stiles says, eyes searching him for a response.

“I just want you to be okay,” Scott says heavily. 

“I know,” Stiles says.

The two of them sit in the silence a moment, all the unsaid things, the weight of fighting a war they didn’t start hanging in the space between them. “I did take down two guys though,” Stiles finally says, breaking the tension.

“Yeah with your stupid bat,” Scott says, rolling his eyes. 

"Oh it’s definitely time for me to learn how to use a gun,” Stiles says. “A big one. Possibly also a flame thrower. Or a tank. Scott, I think we should get a tank.”

“I’m not letting you out again in anything less than full body armor,” Scott says, sinking down into a chair by his bed. 

“Oh! Yes. Body armor. We’ve got to have the budget for that somewhere right? Who knows that? Argent. He has to have some connections on that right? Legal ones?”

Scott sinks down into a chair beside Stiles’ bed and listens to him chatter on, feeling his own eyelids grow heavy. 

“Scott? Scottie?”

“Mhhmmm,” Scott murmurs, body relaxing as sleep pulls him downward. 

His best friend is alive. For now the border is safe. The pack is strong. And for the first time in a long time, soothed by the sound of Stiles’ voice, he falls into peaceful sleep.