#the light hurts right like your eyes have to adjust and shit

[1-renegade]

.

[logansdoll]

ivy, l. howlett (2)

you try to get to know your mystery man a little better... but big brother is always watching.

CW: canon typical violence, gore, guns, mutation, profanity, innuendos, mature themes, mentions of sex, y/n is very poison ivy-esque, jean grey exists but is not present, etc.

"I think you'll be comfortable here," you assured, turning on the bedside light as you tossed a few spare blankets on the foot of Logan's bed.

"Where is your room?" he asked, innocently, his hands resting behind his back.

You raised a brow, but brushed off your slight surprise, turning on another lamp.

"Down the hall," you answered, honestly. "But I spend most of my time in the greenhouse."

He let out a soft chuckle, glancing at you out the corner of his eye as he opened the closet doors, inspecting it.

"Is that your gift? You got a green thumb?" he taunted, turning to face you.

"I'm a chlorokinetic," you corrected, unamused. "I can control plants."

"Really? What kinds of plants?" he gasped, falsely.

Instantly, the fern in the corner of the room extended and slammed the closet door shut, Logan watching with intrigue as it slowly receded back into the pot.

"I also have some communicative ability," you walked over to his bedside, sitting down on the edge and mindlessly adjusting the pillows. "It varies based on the species, but the professor is teaching me to develop it."

"I'm sure he is," he nodded, slowly stalking closer until he stood right before you, forcing you to look up at him.

God, your eyes...

The intensity of their warm brown sent a tender buzz through his chest.

"So say what that fern thinks about me."

"I'd rather not," you smirked, resting your hands on the bed as you leaned back. "He's not the nicest, and I'd hate for your feelings to be hurt."

"C'mon," he egged, his voice lowering to a deep whisper, sending shivers down your spine. "You afraid he might like me more than you?"

"I doubt it."

He raised a brow, silently asking again—and the look likely would've left you weak in the knees if you were standing.

With a playful sigh, you caved, turning to Ferdinand to hear what he had to say, letting out a quiet snicker at his colorful language before turning back to Logan.

"You look like dive-bar frequenting lumberjack, with a weird ass haircut and a shitty beard," you relayed, verbatim. "He's still going, of course, but I think you get the gist."

For the first time since you met him, Logan let out a genuine laugh, tickled by the gusto of the houseplant.

"That's—" "Ahem," a familiar voice cleared his throat, forcing you both to turn your attention to the door.

'Shit.'

"Scott," you greeted with a sigh, slowly standing up from the bed.

You didn't need telepathy to figure out he was a little more than pissed...

You'd gone against a direct order, and were caught in the act.

'Rookie mistake...'

 Turning back to the lumberjack, you glanced at him with a knowing look, giving him a soft pat on the shoulder, "Good night, Logan," you wished, stepping past him and exiting the room.

Though not without giving Scott a sharp, sideways glare.

But he paid it no mind, instead focusing his attention on the stranger in the room.

"You gonna tell me to stay away from your girl?" Logan cocked brow.

"My girl is away on business," Scott corrected, resting his arms behind his back.

"Hmm. Well, then, I guess you've got nothing to worry about, do ya, Cyclops?" Logan smirked, strolling toward the man.

"Yeah, it must just burn you up that a boy like me saved your life, huh?"

Logan's amusement died fast, along with his playful expression.

But Scott pressed right on, pleased to see he struck a nerve, and hoping to strike another.

"She is entirely out of your league," he stated, seriously. "So do yourself a favor and don't even bother."

And with that he shut the door, leaving Logan to steam on the other side.

'Don't even bother, my ass...'

Scott might've been right about you being out of his league—you were a gorgeous, intelligent woman with a sense of humor, who probably wouldn't give him the time of day in any other instance—but Logan liked a challenge.

And he'd be damned if he let some pretty boy tell him who he could and couldn't pursue.

"You went against a direct order—" "We were just talking, Scott," you rolled your eyes, watering Monique, your huge Monstera Deliciosa.

She was nestled nicely in the corner—perfect for indirect natural light—blending seamlessly with the countless array of other plants.

In fact, your room looked more akin to a forest than anything, green seeming to sprout from every nook and cranny, even the canopy of your bed covered in ivy and varying species of flowers.

"It looked a little more than that from where I was standing."

"Even if we weren't, that's none of your business," you scoffed, moving on to the palms. "You're not my keeper."

"But I am your leader," he corrected, firmly. "When I tell you something, I expect you to listen. Logan is bad news, and I'm not gonna let you get roped up in his mess."

"He's a chronic amnesiac with an attitude problem," you turned to him, incredulously, crossing your arms over your chest. "I assure you, I can handle him."

"It's not a matter of handling. I don't want him trying anything with you."

You and Scott, along with Ororo and Jean, had known each other since you were kids under the professor's tutelage, and with you as the youngest of the group—though not much younger than them—Scott assumed the role of an older brother.

And throughout your childhood, especially in your teens, he chased away any boy that seemed to take even the slightest liking to you.

A habit he held on to well into your twenties, and a habit that you appreciated just about as much as you did back then.

Which was not at all.

"Scott, with all due respect, I am a grown woman. And this beat the boys away routine you got going on is getting seriously old," you warned, seriously.

"I don't want to see you get hurt," he pressed on, not letting up, "And trust me, I know guys like Logan, and they only bring pain and heartbreak."

"That is exactly what you said about that boy from Louisiana," you pointed an accusatory finger at him. "I think his name was Rodney or Rudy or something..."

"'Cause he was exactly the same!" Scott scoffed, disbelieving of your inability to see the patterns. "I hate to break it to ya, (n/n), but you have terrible taste in men."

"Excuse me?!"

But before you could fire back with a retort, a roar suddenly echoed throughout the house, along with a scream of terror.

Instinctively, you reached out to all the plants in the house, finding its source almost instantly.

"Logan," you realized, eyes wide as you raced out of the room, Scott right behind you.

Running out into the hall, you looked both ways, freshly awakened kids sticking their heads out their rooms to see the commotion.

"Somebody help!" Logan shouted, voice laced with panic.

You didn't have time to worry about them.

Quickly, you sprinted down the hall, the two of you barging into his room, only to find Rogue standing there, touching his cheek and seemingly draining his life force.

It looked like he'd stabbed her with his claws, and she was taking his power to close the wound.

'Holy shit...'

Scott cut on the lights just as Ororo joined you, the girl finally letting Logan go, the poor man dropping to the ground like dead weight, seizing.

"It was an accident," Rogue turned to Ororo, guiltily, before running out the room.

You swiftly moved to Logan's side, dropping to your knees to help, "Scott, grab me a pillow," you ordered, leaving no room for argument.

He quickly moved to grab one, you using your powers to grow Ferdinand much larger and stronger, before wrapping his fronds around Logan's body to act as restraints.

'This should keep him front hurting himself.'

"Pillow," Scott nodded, handing it to you.

You took it gratefully, carefully lifting Logan's head and placing it down on top.

"He'll have to ride it out. But with his healing factor I'm not too worried," you assured, brushing a loose strand of hair out his face.

With that out the way, Ororo turned to the crowd of children gathered at the door, scolding.

"Off to bed. All of you. There's nothing to see here," she ushered them away, exiting the room.

Now just you and Scott, you let out a sigh, standing up and running a hand through your hair.

You could practically feel Scott's I told you so look burning through his glasses.

"Shut up."

"I told you... bad news."

[webbluvrsugar]

what are we? — felix catton.

cw: angst, felix’s an ass (again), suggestive, light toxic behaviour, no use of y/n.

You’re smoking a blunt leaning against Felix’s naked chest, passing it on to him every two puffs, the rain outside is heavy, the climate inside is cozy, so intimate it almost feels romantic.

It’s been nice, really.

Walking around the campus holding his hand, him grabbing you from your group of friends to kiss you against the wall and send you back off, him paying for your drinks and drag you onto his wheel of friends at the club, him asking you to help him ‘study’ but it ends up on a mess of kisses, he even invited you to see his family and spend a summer with him in Saltburn.

Everyone thinks you’re dating.

Everyone acknowledges you as Felix’s girlfriend.

But you’re not.

Every time someone mentions it, he looks at you with guilty look in his eyes and brushes it off with a laugh, when you joke with him about it between closed walls, it turns into another hookup session.

So really, what are you two?

It’s a lingering question in your mind, one that torments you in moments you shouldn’t, one that is kept on your throat and hurts when you think about it, so you finally decide to give voice to it.

“What are we?”

You ask out of the blue, his movements freeze under you, he takes another puff of the blunt, there’s a lingering silence between you.

“What?”

He asks as if he didn’t understand you, his brows slightly furrow, his hips adjust on the bed as he slightly sits up.

“I mean…” You’re not sure what you mean, you’re not sure what to say, but it’s too late to back down. “We kiss, we sleep together, you introduced me to your parents, we even go out ‘n stuff.”

There’s that silence again, Felix is taking a while to answer.

“So?”

It’s a simple question but it pierces through your heart, as if it’s totally normal to do that with a girl you hookup with every now and then, it’s not, really, you’ve been acting like his girlfriend without the title of it.

“That’s what couples do.” He doesn’t answer again. “So.. what are we?”

You sit up and pull away from him, sitting next to him on the bed, he sighs deeply, extinguishes the blunt on the ashtray and turns to you.

“We just… hookup and stuff.”

He’s trying to avoid it, you’re not, you push.

“What?!” It comes out more aggressive.

“I don’t know, fuck am i supposed to say? We have sex and shit, it’s fine like this.”

You have ‘sex and shit’?

That’s what he calls it?

When he’s all over you, kissing you and rocking into you softly, whispering sweet things in your ear you believe, things that make you feel loved.

That’s not having sex and shit, that’s commitment and he knows it, he’s just not ready to face it.

“You said you wanted me to have your babies.” You say, indignant.

“That was during sex.”

He responds quickly, leaving no room for argument.

He noticed how your expression hardens, how the glint in your eyes fade, how your brows raise.

“Look, I don’t know why you make it a big deal, I said that shit before, they were fine.”

“They?” You answer.

He gets up from the bed, runs one hair through his hair, exhales heavily under his breath. “Fuck,”

“Listen, I don’t wanna talk about this, it’s better if we just stay as we are…”

You get what he means now.

He doesn’t want commitment.

He doesn’t want to fall in love, he likes this, likes the party life, likes to always have his bed warm, likes to run freely.

But he wants to keep you, just as another one of his girls. Your friends were right, they told you about this before, told you to not trust him, yet you still did, truthfully, it’s your own fault for believing him.

“Fuck no.” You shake your head, standing up from the bed as well. “I’m not dumb, Felix, I know what you’re trying to do, and if you think that it’s normal, it isn’t, you don’t say ‘I love you’ to a fling, you don’t bring them to meet your family,” you pause.

“You don’t say they’ll be your fucking wife.”

Felix is stuck in place, his eyes widen when you mention that, right, he knew it was fucked up.

“That was a mistake.”

You get enraged, your heart is being crushed in two, this is certainly not something you want to argue about, it’ll end up nastier than it already is.

“Then go make mistakes with someone else.”

an: decided to make you this today cause I might be off tomorrow, but if you send me a request I might still answer, xo.

would you like a pt2?

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (20/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: There's one person that you don't want to see standing in front of your door in the middle of the night.

Warnings: angst (like, a lot), super many swear words, asshole!Charles, a teeny tiny bit of fluff, Raphael

Word Count: 3.7k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: couldn't let you wait another week after that cliffhanger. thank you to everyone who's been with me from the start. couldn't have done it without you. here's to 20 chapters and so much more to come.

It only takes a few seconds for your eyes to adjust to the light and you recognize who is standing in front of your apartment door. The hair, the eyes, the mouth, and as soon as you recognize the face of the person who hurt you, you push against the door with all your strength to slam it shut. 

But Raphael is quicker and shoves his foot in between. "I just want to talk."

You briefly consider kicking his shoe and kicking him out of the door frame. Something that would certainly hurt a lot barefoot. But you can't take a step back to slip into your shoes either, because Raphael would see that as an invitation. So you stand there rooted to the spot, your fingers clasped around the door handle and your shoulder leaning against the door so that at least some counterbalance keeps him from entering the apartment.

"Please, Y/N."

"What about my previous behavior makes it seem like I'm in any way interested in having a conversation with you?" you hiss hostilely in a hushed voice. After all, the neighbors don't need to hear what's going on in the hallway in the middle of the night.

He raises his hands placatingly. "I know you want to sort this out between us as much as I do."

"I want you to leave me the hell alone." You lean against the door a little more so there's more pressure on the sides of his foot, forcing him to pull it out sooner or later.

"This can't really be what you want. Please, Y/N." He tilts his head. "We both know how much you miss me. And how much you need me."

You have to stifle your laughter, even though there's nothing at all funny about this situation. "I'm not the person who keeps calling my ex and suddenly turns up at the door in the middle of the night."

"I just want to explain myself. And that everything is like it used to be."

"Then you shouldn't have been fucking other women." Your tone is icy. "Why can't you just leave me alone and get out of my life?"

Raphael crosses his arms in front of his chest as if he's offended that you're seriously asking him that. "Because I love you. So let me in, please."

You narrow your eyes. "Not a chance."

His gaze, which looked halfway human a moment ago, hardens. "Is he here? Is he listening to us right now?"

You raise an eyebrow. "Who?"

"Don't play dumber than you are. I'm talking about your fucking roommate I spoke to on the phone the other day." He puts a palm against the door and you feel his weight pressing against you. "Is he here?"

By now you're bracing yourself against the door with all your weight. Your heart is hammering in your chest. Raphael is not someone who would hurt anyone else. But his cold stare and the pressure against the door make you think otherwise. Must make you think something else to protect yourself. If he manages to walk through that door - thank God Charles is in Italy.

"This is none of your business," you try to say as normally as possible. 

"If some random guy is fucking my girlfriend, then it is definitely my business."

"I'm not your girlfriend, remember? You cheated on me and dumped me." You take a deep breath to get rid of the tremor in your voice. "So just leave me alone. I don't want anything more to do with you."

Raphael laughs. "I didn't cheat on you." When you raise an eyebrow, he rolls his eyes. "My God, so I slept with a few women, so what? I had needs. And you didn't want to." 

You're on the verge of crushing his foot. "Are you actually listening to yourself? Do you hear the complete bullshit you're talking?" 

"Don't be like that. I bet you've been sleeping with your roommate to get one over on me, too." He leans a little in your direction. "Why don't you explain to me why you slept with him but not with me, your boyfriend?" When you don't answer him, but just look at him venomously, a disgusting grin spreads across his face. "I'm telling you: because you're a little bitch." He takes his hand off the door and instantly your body relaxes a little. But the calm doesn't last long. "Did you hear that?" Raphael suddenly yells through the hallway, waking up all the neighbors within a 200-meter radius. "She's a little bitch. Come and get her. She really gets it on with everyone."

You open the door a little, but only to stand fully in the doorway. "Are you crazy? Be quiet, you'll wake up the whole of Monaco!"

His head jerks in your direction. "Why? Don't you want your roommate to know who you really are?"

If Raphael hadn't been shouting like that, you would certainly have heard the loud footsteps coming up the stairs. But all you see is a shadow and then you see familiar green eyes looking into yours. Charles is standing on the top step of the stairs, his eyes fixed on you, but before you can say anything, ask him why he's not in Italy, his gaze flits to Raphael and even from a distance you can see that Charles' body is tensing. 

Raphael follows your eyes and takes a step back when he sees your roommate standing in front of him. Charles could have been anyone - a neighbor complaining about the noise, a delivery man dropping off food - but from the way the Monegasque is glaring at your ex, there's no doubt. "Your roommate is Charles Leclerc?" Raphael runs his fingers nervously through his hair before taking a step in Charles' direction and holding out his hand. "Wow, it's an honor to meet you! I'm a big fan!"

Charles Leclerc? Honor? Big fan?

Charles looks down at the outstretched hand as if it were a venomous snake before he pushes past the man without answering and positions himself in front of you. You see his tense back muscles dance beneath his sweater as he turns to Raphael. "You should go."

"I think you've got this whole thing wrong," your ex tries to wriggle out of the situation. "Y/N is my girlfriend and we-"

"Ex-girlfriend," the brunette interjects without batting an eyelid.

Raphael scratches the back of his neck nervously. "Eh, we're just trying to sort that out. Would you please give us a moment so we can work this out?"

Charles doesn't even need to turn around to know that's the last thing you want. "No. I'm sure there's nothing to sort out. I'm not going to ask you to leave again."

Your ex snorts and raises his hands placatingly. "I don't want to argue with you. Like I said, I'm a huge fan and I watch every race. But the matter only involves Y/N and me, which is why I'm asking you to step aside so we can work this out." 

"And I said no." His tone is cool and calm, almost threatening, and his gaze is so piercing it sends a cold shiver down your spine.

Raphael rolls his eyes. "And I thought you were a cool guy. That's how you come across on TV, anyway." He takes a step towards you both and Charles pushes himself completely in front of you so that you can no longer see Raphael. "Your little girlfriend there is a slut, did you know that? A stupid little whore who-"

"Do you actually like your job? You still work in accounting at this one company, don't you? With the emphasis on 'still'," Charles asks calmly. As your ex takes a step back, Charles takes a step forward. "So if you want to keep it, I suggest you leave Y/N alone once and for all. You won't show up here, you won't call her again, you won't even think about her. And if you even think of telling anyone about this, I'll make sure you can't find a job anywhere. Do you understand me?" When your ex doesn't answer, Charles takes another step, causing Raphael to flinch and almost fall down the stairs. "Did you hear me?"

"Clearly and distinctly."

"Good." You can hear Charles' friendly smile. "Have a good evening, then." He looks after Raphael, who quickly scurries down the stairs, and only turns to you as the front door slams shut. 

But instead of asking you if everything is all right, he storms past you into the apartment without a word. You quickly close the door behind you, follow him on foot and find him in the bedroom, where he pulls a large sports bag out of the chest of drawers, which he carelessly throws onto the rumpled bed. He starts to clear out the closet.

"Charles?" you ask hesitantly, but remain standing in the doorway. "What are you doing?" When he doesn't answer, but pulls his cell phone out of his pocket and taps on it briefly before pocketing it again, you enter the room. "Charles? Say something, please."

"What do you want to hear from me?" he asks coldly, grabbing some clothes from the closet. Only when you take a closer look do you realize that these are your clothes that didn't fit in your small suitcase. 

"I don't know," you answer helplessly. "What are you doing here?"

He doesn't even look at you. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm packing your things." He stuffs one of your shirts into the small side pocket. "So we can finally move out of here."

Confused, you look at him and sit on the edge of the bed. Far enough away from him. "What do you mean?"

"Do you really think you're going to stay here one more day after your crazy ex turned up? You were going to move out anyway, so we might as well get this over with."

You had told him that you were leaving this apartment, but you never expected him to throw you out of the apartment himself. Especially not today, when he wasn't supposed to be in Monaco, but in Italy. "Are you kicking me out?"

Charles zippers up the bag before placing it next to the suitcase and pulling the next bag out of the dresser and fills it with clothes. "Didn't you listen to me? We're moving out. I'm not leaving you alone in this apartment for another moment."

Charles's change of mood almost gives you whiplash. Yesterday he threw the nastiest words at you, made you cry and hurt you so much that you were seriously considering leaving the country. And now he's standing there packing your things into sports bags because he what? Doesn't want your ex to come back here to harass you again?

Puzzled, you sit on the bed while Charles goes through the apartment and collects all the personal belongings he can find. 

Why is he here when he's supposed to be in Italy? Why is he packing your things so that you can move out of this apartment if he doesn't care about you? And the biggest question is - how does Raphael know Charles? What races was he talking about? Why does he know him from TV?

Who is Charles Leclerc?

"Here, get changed," he snaps you out of your thoughts and throws you a pair of sweatpants and the white sweater he was wearing in the bookstore. "It's freezing outside and I don't want you to freeze to death." He grabs the bags and disappears out of the bedroom to give you some privacy. 

You quickly change, pull his sweater over your head and as you breathe in his scent, you could cry. The fact that Charles is here, defending you after he treated you so badly, confuses you so much that you don't know which way is up and which way is down. After yesterday, you hate him, you want to hate him, but Lando's words haunt your mind and apparently there's some truth to them, because otherwise Charles wouldn't have driven all the way to Monaco in the middle of the night. 

But why is he here? Why did he leave his meetings so much earlier? Did he feel guilty? Did Lando talk to him? Why is he back here with you after just one day?

He doesn't even look at you when you leave the bedroom in his clothes. He just grabs the bags and your suitcase and you're about to ask him if you should carry something too, but he's already disappeared out of the front door and into the dark hallway. You quickly grab the last of your belongings and follow him down the stairs, but instead of heading for the underground parking garage, he leaves the house and heads towards the street. 

"Where are you going?" you ask, out of breath, when you finally catch up with him. Without a word, he stops in front of a black car with a red and white stripe across it. It looks expensive, much more expensive than your old Renault, which is only confirmed by the horse on the hood and rims. "Whose car is this?"

"Get in," he says curtly as he unlocks the luxury ride and starts to put the bags away. When you don't move, he turns to you. "I won't say it again. Get in the damn car, Y/N."

"Why?" you ask, confused and also a little desperate. "Why would I get in the car with you? Give me one good reason."

Annoyed, he runs his hand through his hair so that it stands on end. "Either you get in the car now or I'll make you. It's your decision."

You cross your arms in front of your chest. By now you're annoyed by his behavior. "You can't force me."

"You bet I can." He takes a step closer so that you can feel his warm breath on your face. "Get in the fucking car."

There's a twinkle in his green eyes that stops you from challenging him. Silently, you get in on the passenger side of the car and plop down on the leather seat as Charles circles the hood. A few minutes later, as you're driving along Monaco's streets, the silence between you is unbearable. 

"Where are we going?" you ask, but get no answer. The Monegasque drives the car over the asphalt with an angry look on his face, even driving too fast, but he doesn't seem to care. "At least you can tell me where you're taking me. You owe me that after you dragged me out of the apartment."

"We're going to my other place."

You raise an eyebrow in confusion. "The one Annika lives in?"

Charles takes a turn without using his blinker. "Yes."

"And how do you picture that?" You turn in his direction. "You want me to share the apartment with your ex? Are you completely insane?"

He exhales loudly. "She won't be there when we get there."

"We? What do you mean 'we'?"

"I have to stay somewhere. Now that we both can't stay in the second apartment anymore."

Your voice sounds a little shrill as you answer him. "I wasn't planning on moving out of one apartment so I could move into another with you. Drive me to a hotel or somewhere else, but I don't want to live with you."

After all, he was the reason you wanted to move out of the apartment in the first place. He treated you badly, let you down - why should you spend another night with him? Especially since he still seems angry with you?

As the car comes to a halt, he looks over at you. "I don't care what you want right now. You're staying here tonight where I know you're okay and that asshole can't get too close to you. Tomorrow you can throw every insult you can think of at me, but right now you do what I tell you. Do you understand me?"

His authoritative and commanding tone leaves no room for discussion, so you just nod silently and get out of the car. You are in an underground parking garage, similar to the other one, but there are other cars here. Expensive cars, like the Ferrari you drove here in. 

Are these all his cars? Where did Charles get the money for a Ferrari? What-

"Come on. I won't wait forever." His voice brings you back to reality and like a toddler you follow him out of the garage, into the elevator and finally into the apartment, which is surprisingly empty. You don't have a moment's peace to look around as Charles has already unlocked a room and put your things inside.

"The guest room is unused." He takes a deep breath and exhales. "I know it's not the best solution for everything here, but I can't change it now. If you want to move out tomorrow, then do so. But please do me a favor and stay here tonight." His expression is softer and his voice is a little warmer than it was a few minutes ago, but that doesn't make you forget how the evening went.

"I'll be gone in the morning," you reply stubbornly, but you can feel your heart beating fast. Charles just nods and leaves you in the hallway so that you can enter your room undisturbed and keep to yourself. 

After closing the door behind you, you take off your warm clothes and fall onto the bed in your underwear without turning on the light. It is unused, the comforter is spread out on the mattress and the pillows feel as plush as if they had just been fluffed up. But as soon as your head touches the soft fabric and you breathe in, you are completely enveloped in Charles' scent. And you can't stop the tears streaming down your face as your body finally comes to rest.

The fact that Raphael suddenly turned up on your doorstep in the middle of the night has already thrown you off course. You never expected him to have the nerve to show up at your place - a pretty stupid thought when you remember that he had already tried to find you there recently. But actually seeing him, listening to his garbage, really ruined the evening that Lando had actually saved so far. 

And then came Charles, your knight in shining armour, who stood up for you so heroically and defended you, even though he had broken your heart just one day before. 

His behavior is completely at odds with what he's doing.

He drags you out of the apartment so that Raphael can no longer find you there, but forces you to go with him to this apartment, even though he knows that you don't want to have anything more to do with him. 

He packs your things, wants you to spend the night with him so he can be sure you're safe, but is so cold and dismissive to you that you might think Charles has multiple personalities. 

And then there's the fact that Raphael seems to know him. Even his full name. And he didn't pronounce it the way you do with people you just haven't seen for a long time but happen to meet on the street. His intonation was different, as if the name Charles Leclerc carried weight, as if he was something special, as if you had to know him. But who the hell is Charles Leclerc?

Is he the man who took you in when you didn't know where to go? The one in whom you found a friend you never really wanted to miss? The one you fell in love with without even wanting to?

Or is he the man who hurt you, rejected you, only to stand up for you in a domineering and possessive way? The one who took your heart and trampled on it, only to do everything he could to keep you safe a day later?

Who is Charles Leclerc?

Your shoulders shake and your breath comes in painful gasps as you wrap your arms around your middle and press your face into the pillow. Your throat feels constricted, your blood is pounding in your ears and your heart is beating so fast it feels like it wants to jump out of your chest. And this headache. They make you blind and deaf, which is why you don't notice the door to your room quietly opening and then falling back into the lock. 

Only when you feel the mattress lower behind you do you realize that Charles is with you. You want to turn to him, scream at him and send him packing, but you don't get the chance. Your tears stifle every sound and your body is shaking so badly that you can do nothing but lie there.

You don't question it when you feel Charles' chest against your back. "I'm here," he whispers softly as he wraps his arm around you and hugs you tightly. His other hand finds its way into your hair, which he strokes gently as his touch warms you. "It's all right, mon amour. I'm here," he repeats, tangling his bare legs with yours to pull you even closer to him. Not a piece of paper, not even a hair fits between you. 

Charles' skin is soft and smooth against yours, you feel the tiny hairs of his forearm against yours as he reaches out to grab your hand and finally intertwines your fingers. It feels like they were made for this. As if you were made for him. 

You want to turn around, to look at him, but his iron grip around your middle won't allow it, so you just press yourself against him, as close as you can, to be enveloped by him. By his smell, his warmth. Him. 

"Charles," you sigh into the darkness and feel the tip of his nose against your neck. 

"I'm here, mon amour." He presses a feather-light kiss to your bare shoulder. "I'm here as long as you'll let me."

next part

[love-hs28]

You're the strongest person I've ever known.

Summary: JJ’s had another fight with his dad and needs some comfort and help cleaning up.  CW: same stuff that’s in the show gn!reader Routledge!reader, but doesn't really effect the story Hurt/comfort & fluff 1.3k words Posted on: 5-24-24

a/n: This is my first post ever, lmk if you guys like it! Been wanting to start posting my stuff on here for a while and figured what better time to than now!

It’s almost 2 am when you hear a knocking on your window. You had been lying awake since you got home from the party and already know that it's JJ, so you get up to open it. You slide the glass open with a smile and he climbs in.

“Hey Jay,”

As he’s setting his foot down, he loses his balance a bit and you have to place your hands on his shoulders to steady him. It’s already obvious that he’s a bit drunk. 

“Whoa, hey, careful,”

You hear him groan as he attempts to straighten up, and he hobbles over to flop down on your desk chair. You’re not new to this, and know what this behavior usually means. 

“Had a fight with my dad. I’m fine. Just wanted to, uh, come over,” He groans again as he adjusts himself to sit more comfortably, and you sigh and come over to kneel in front of him.

You tilt your head down to get a better look at him, and gently put a hand on the side of his face to angle it towards the dim moonlight. The room is too dark for you to see any damage that’s been done, and he hisses at the contact. 

“Shit, sorry,” You quickly take your hand away but he grabs it and holds it against his chest. He sets his forehead against yours and takes a deep breath, knowing what comes next. 

“Can I see?” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

He does a combination of shaking and nodding his head and reluctantly looks up, but avoids eye contact and looks just to the right of your face. There’s enough light on him now to see a black eye forming and the cuts on his lip and cheek.

You let out a shaky breath and squeeze his hand. It’s not hard to imagine what the rest of his body looks like.

“Oh, Jay,” you whisper, and he shakes his head and squeezes your hand back.

“I’m alright, y/n. Just a little roughed up. ‘s good for building character, right?” He laughs softly, but the tears in his eyes tell more than his words. You know he uses humor to cope, and your heart breaks at the sad smile on his face.

You stand up, not letting go of his hand, and lead him to your bathroom.

You softly pat the counter next to the sink as a signal for him to take a seat, and he does. You open the bathroom closet and grab the first aid kid, careful to keep quiet so as to not wake John B. You can see JJ watching you with a loving but tired look in his eyes that causes you to slightly blush.

As you’re setting up the supplies on the counter, he gently puts a hand to the side of your face, halting your movements. He smiles drunkenly and uses his other hand to brush the hair from your face. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, absentmindedly playing with the hem of your pajama shorts.

You smile and gently rub his thigh. You whisper back “So are you,” and gently kiss his less-hurt cheek and get back to setting up the supplies.

JJ starts swinging his feet, accidentally kicking the counter and earning a soft glare from you, which he just chuckles at.

“Yeah, but you’re beautifuler. Most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” he sighs, still staring deep into your eyes, and you grab the alcohol and put some on a cotton ball.

“Oh, you’re too sweet” you say, and brush his hair out of his face. “Alright, this might sting a little. You can hold on to me if you want.”

JJ messily shakes his head, “‘s okay. I’m strong.”

You look into his eyes sadly with a little sad smile, “I know you are,” Regardless of his strength, he sets his hands on your waist preparing for the all too familiar pain.

You gently dab at the cuts on his cheek and lip and he hisses and closes his eyes, trying to act strong in front of you, but squeezing hard on your hips.

“I’m sorry honey, almost done,” You dab a few more times and wipe a few until it looks clean enough. You softly kiss his forehead and he rests it on your shoulder. His breathing feels heavy against you. 

“You’re okay, Jay. You’re safe now, I’m right here. I got you,” You rub his back and he starts to cry a bit. He looks up at you with a shaky lip.

“I’m sorry. I hate that you have to see me like this. I just didn’t know where else to go.” His voice is shaking and your heart breaks as you shake your head and put a hand to his face to brush his hair.

“Don’t apologize. I’m glad you came to me. Come to me everytime, please. Seeing you like this doesn’t make me think you’re weak. It makes me think you’re the strongest person I’ve ever known and I hate that you have to go through this shit.” A tear rolls down your cheek and he gently wipes it.

“Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.”

Bitting your bottom lip between your teeth to stop it from shaking, you shake your head and look down to get the bandages. When you look back up at him he’s looking at you with so much emotion that you feel your heart skip a few beats.

“I love you.” He says, and pulls you in by your waist.

“I love you more” you say, and lean into him and hug him close, careful to avoid his abdomen, which you’re 99% sure is covered in bruises.

You hug for a minute or two, giving you both the chance to calm your breathing, and you eventually lean back and quickly wipe your eyes.

You brush the hair out of his face again, “Let me get these bandages on you and then we can head to bed, yeah?”

He nods and lets his eyes fall shut, hands not leaving your waist. After covering up the cuts on his face, you look up at him reluctantly. 

“Can I.. Could you lift up your shirt? I just want to make sure nothing else needs, um, tending to.”

He slowly nods and lifts his t-shirt up, exposing the bottom few inches of his torso. Your hand immediately comes up to cover your mouth and you choke in a sob as you see the bruises already beginning to form on his stomach. You can’t even begin to imagine how he must feel.

JJ shakes his head and uses his hand to gently guide you to look back into his eyes. 

“Hey. No crying, remember? I’m okay, promise. They’ll be gone in a few days. Week tops. Nothin we can do about it, you know?”

You can't get your eyes to meet his, and bite your lip to stop it from shaking as he pulls you in for another hug. You grip onto his shirt for a minute, then he leans back to kiss you gently.

“You look tired. I’m sorry I woke you up.”

You shake your head and kiss his hand. “No, don’t be, I was awake when you got here, couldn’t sleep.”

JJ tilts his head with a concerned look. “Everything okay?”

You softly laugh and shake your head, setting your hands on his knees and looking into his eyes. “You’re sitting here on my sink all beaten up and you’re asking me if I’m okay?”

He returns the soft laugh and rubs your cheek with his thumb.

“What did I do to deserve you,” you whisper as you look deep into his eyes and gently rub his leg. JJ looks at you like you’ve just said something crazy.

“You kidding? I should be the one asking that. I don’t know where I’d be without you. You’re my everything. My best friend. My favorite person.”

You try harder not to cry, failing a bit, and moving the remaining few inches closer to rest your forehead on his, pressing a soft kiss to his cut lips.

You eventually have to put the first aid stuff away, and you take one more deep breath, smoothing your hair and wiping your eyes one last time.

“Alright, big guy, let’s get you to bed, okay?”

He nods as you hold his hand to guide him off the counter, the sleepiness beginning to set in for the both of you. 

You head back to your room and help him get situated in bed, climbing in next to him, careful not to hurt him any further. 

“I love you,” he whispers as he’s falling asleep.

“I love you more,” you whisper back, kissing his shoulder and finally letting the sleep overcome you, silently wishing that you'll wake up tomorrow and this will have all been a dream.

a/n: Hope you enjoyed, thank you for reading!! Let me know what you think and if anything should be changed. I might upload some more in the future, depending on how this does! :) 

Also lmk if I should change the POV, like if third person or first person would be better :) I will prob be coming back to edit this every now and then if I find something to change, which is very likely. 

And PLEASE send in any requests if you have any!!

xoxo

[misfit0789]

Holidays from Hell

Alyssa Naeher x Reader

Summary: Alyssa and R's Christmas is crashed by R's family. It doesn't end well.

Word count: 4.7k

Warnings: Nose bleed, emotionally/mentally abusive family, hurt/comfort, homophobic comments

This has been done for a couple of months, and I wasn't planning on posting it just yet, but since Uncle is officially retired from the national team, I thought there was no better time to post it! Hope you enjoy!

I slowly open my eyes to adjust to the morning light peaking in through the blinds. I stretch as best as I can

with one arm under my partner of 4 years. I feel her start to stir as I cuddle back into her from behind.

"Merry Christmas baby," I whisper into her ear as I press a kiss just behind it. She turns in my arms to look me in my eyes, before she presses a kiss to my lips. I relax into the kiss savoring it knowing we will face chaos shortly.

"Merry Christmas my love, are you ready to see your mom?" She asks her left hand coming up to cup my cheek. I sigh and lean into her touch.

"I don't think I will ever be ready to face her. It was a lot easier to ignore her when I moved out and could put the blame on practice and other stuff. But when she shows up on my door step 2 days before Christmas demanding to spend the holidays with us I'm not sure I can ignore her then. I'm pissed that she ruined our plans though. I was so excited to spend the holidays with your family. I was looking forward to seeing them all." I take a deep breath to try and get my emotions under control. She gives me a soft smile before she leans in and places another kiss on my lips.

"We will power through this together. Besides my sister will be here this afternoon to help prepare dinner before my parents arrive at 5. We only have a couple hours of your mom alone today. We can do it." She says, I give her a small nod and one more kiss before moving the blanket to the side. Knowing my mother she will find some way to fuck this up just as she has everything else in my life.

I stand and stretch before making my way to our ensuite bathroom to do my morning routine. Alyssa not far behind. As we make eye contact through the mirror I pull a funny face with my toothbrush hanging out of my mouth causing her to laugh. I smile at the sound as we both finish our routines before returning to our bedroom to get dressed.

"Remind me why I let you talk me into matching sweaters?" Alyssa sighs. I give her a smile before pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"Because you love me, and because you are stuck with me for the rest of your life and you know better than to argue." I give her a cheeky smile before pressing one last kiss to her cheek as she rolls her eyes. I stand in front of our closed bedroom door and take a deep breath as I reach for the door knob. Just before I can open the door though it flies open smacking me right in the nose.

"Shit!"

"Oh my god! Y/n! Are you okay?" Alyssa runs over to check my nose. I tilt my head back to help control the bleeding. I peak one eye open and see my mom standing there.

"Oh please, you are fine. Allyson there is no need to worry over her. She will live. Now what is for breakfast? I am starved. You'd think it's our first Christmas together in years and-"

"Mom! First off her name is Alyssa, second you invited yourself here. There is no reason for you to barge into our bedroom demanding food. It will be ready when it is ready. Go sit in the living room. We are doing gifts before food anyway." I say before taking another deep breath, moving to the bathroom to get a tissue to plug up the bleeding. I can feel Alyssa following behind me.

"Are you okay love?" I sigh and give her a nod before starting to clean up the blood from my face.

"I've had to experience her like this before. It's nothing new unfortunately. I'm just happy we were dressed. She once did that and acted that way to an me and an ex. Let's just say that ex and I were over by that night. I'm just happy you stuck around after your first go around with her." She gives me a soft smile and presses a kiss to my cheek. Taking the towel from my hands to help me clean up. She steps in front of me and leans her back on the bathroom counter. My hands move to rest on her waist.

"That's why I said 'I do' when you put this on my finger." She holds up her left hand showcasing her wedding ring. I look at her with what I know is a love filled look.

"And I would ask you all over again in every lifetime." She gives me a smile and continues to clean up my face. "Besides at least she didn't ruin my sweater," I give her a cheeky smile before she leans up pressing a kiss to my lips. "I love you,"

"I love you too, now lets go get this over with before she comes back in here and does worse than bruise your nose." I laugh and nod taking a step back from her so she can throw the towel in the laundry.

We walk out of our room and make our way to the steps, though I stop when I hear more than my moms voice in my living room. A voice that haunted every memory from my childhood since the day she could talk.

"She did not," I whisper. Alyssa looks at me confused. "Looks like you are about to meet the favorite child that you've been lucky enough to avoid. Her and mom together are never good." She widens her eyes in surprise.

"Don't tell me your sister is here," I sigh and give her a nod. "Why is she in our house? We did not invite her!" She whisper shouts.

"We may not have but mom certainly did. I didn't even think she lived near Chicago!" I whisper back. "Text your sister and parents to warn them. Nothing good ever comes from those two being in the same place." The day has barely started and I can already feel the headache and its not the one from a door being smashed into my face either.

"Okay, Amanda and my parents have been warned. Amanda is coming by earlier. So are my parents they said they'll be here around 4 instead of 5. They've heard the stories of your mom and sister and don't want anything bad to happen." Alyssa whispers pocketing her phone. I nod before taking a deep breath.

"Let's get this over with." She presses a kiss to my lips before giving me a nod. I give her a smile and make my way down the stairs.

"Finally, we are starving. What took you and Allyson so long? And why is your face so red?" My sister asks once Alyssa and I make it around the corner.

"I already told mom. Food is after gifts and it's Alyssa not Allyson. Her and I have been together for four years you both know this. Mom opened our bedroom door smacking me in the face. Thanks for the concern." I end sarcastically. I feel Alyssa's hand on my back. I relax at her touch before reluctantly stepping away to start making Alyssa's coffee. I move towards the hooks on the wall we keep our mugs on stopping when my mom speaks.

"There's no need to do gifts." My mom says. I slowly turn towards her a confused look on my face.

"And why is that? It is Christmas is it not?" I ask giving my mother a sarcastic look.

"Well yeah but your sister and I have already exchanged gifts. There isn't anything else to give out." I look at her dumbfounded.

"What about Alyssa and I? You didn't get us anything?" I'm honestly not surprised, mom and Heather have already exchanged gifts. They did this all the time growing up. Heather would throw a fit so mom would give her all my gifts to placate her. I enjoyed the Christmas' I've been able to spend with Alyssa and her family as I finally got to feel the love of a family.

"Uhh, nope." Mom says turning to look at what Heather was showing her on her phone. I make eye contact with Heather over mom's head to see her smirking at me. I roll my eyes and flip her off with my own sarcastic smile before quickly looking to Alyssa.

"If your sister doesn’t hurry up she will have to drive you to the jailhouse to bail me out for killing them." I whisper. She chuckles and nods before giving my shoulder a squeeze in reassurance.

When it's just Alyssa and I we are very touchy and loving to each other. We even show some PDA with her family as we are comfortable with them. My 'family' and anyone else, even her teammates, we are less touchy. Both our love languages include physical touch so we are more lowkey with them. Instead of hugs, kissing and handholding, we usually interlock our pinkies.

"I already texted her. She's on her way my love." She whispers back. I give her a nod before reaching for her hand and giving it a squeeze.

"I need a bit more than linking pinkies right now," I breath out. She nods leaning up to press a quick kiss to my temple. I release her hand and quickly move about the kitchen to finish up making her coffee while she works on my hot cocoa as I was never a coffee drinker.

As we work I can feel her hands brushing against me from time to time as she moves around the kitchen from the kettle on the stove for the hot water and the fridge for the whipped cream. I relax knowing she has no other motives than to keep me calm and from hurting my mother and sister.

~~~~~

"I'm here and I brought donuts." I let out a breath of relief before standing from my seat next to Alyssa at the kitchen island and turning in my spot to greet Amanda.

"I can't thank you enough for coming over sooner. It's been a nightmare already." Amanda waves me off moving to set the donuts on the counter in front of Alyssa who opens the box and grabs one, before Amanda is turning to give me a hug. I relax into it knowing Alyssa and I won't have to fend the demons off alone. She pulls back and cups my face in her hands slowly moving my head around as she looks at my red nose.

"Don't sweat it. Lyss explained it all. I had to get here before you killed them. Although they did a number on your nose. Have you iced it yet? You don't want it to swell." Just before I can respond my mom and sister walk in.

"Oh hello, who are you? You look like Allyson but she's sitting at the counter with - ooh donuts!" My mom is cut off by Heather pushing Alyssa to the side to grab the box from in front of her. I reach out and catch Alyssa before she can hit the floor.

"Hey! Watch it Heather! This is Amanda, Alyssa's twin sister. She's here to help cook dinner. Alyssa and Amanda's parents will be here at 4 for Christmas dinner. If you two aren't going to help please leave the kitchen." I let Alyssa sit in the seat I was previously in before moving towards the fridge to start grabbing ingredients for dinner.

"But-" My mom is cut off as Alyssa shoves the box of donuts, more so what's left that Heather hasn't eaten, into mom's hands. Mom and Heather share a look before leaving the kitchen.

"I'm sorry about the donuts but I will make you whatever you want for breakfast. I just needed to get them out of here before Y/n killed them. Her and her twin are nothing like us. They have competed all their lives, they will kill each other." Alyssa explains. Amanda nods in understanding.

"Don't worry about it Lys. I can tell from that interaction just how bad things can be for Y/n. I mean you two have been together for 4 years and they still don't even know your name." I roll my eyes setting the armful of veggies down before leaning on the counter.

"I still don't understand why they showed up here. I haven't spoken to mom or Heather for over a year. Hell they don't even know Alyssa and I got married!" I whisper to Alyssa and Amanda, knowing my mom and Heather are listening. They could never mind their own business growing up. "I know that day was ten times better because of them not being there. There is no way for Heather to ruin the day if she doesn’t know it even happened," Alyssa and Amanda laugh at my words.

"I know, and it was the best day of my life," Alyssa whispers moving over to me and pressing a kiss to my lips, her arms moving around my neck as my hands move to grip her waist. I smile into the kiss relaxing for the first time today since I woke up with my wife in my arms.

"Okay I get it you two are in love. Can we please start on dinner?" Amanda asks, the disgust clear in her voice. I reluctantly pull away from my wife leaving one hand on her hip, and turn to my sister-in-law.

"Fine," I fully pull away from Alyssa and move towards the knife block on the counter, grabbing a knife to cut the veggies.

Alyssa, Amanda and I work together in the kitchen to get dinner sorted and ready to be put in the oven for when their parents arrive. Thankfully mom and Heather seem to steer clear of the kitchen.

~~~

Just as I set the last tray in the oven for dinner the doorbell goes off. I turn to look at Amanda and Alyssa who are working together on cleaning up the dishes we used when cooking.

"I'll be back," I say before walking towards the front door, but Heather had beat me to it.

"Who are you?" She asks with a bitchy tone. I roll my eyes placing a hand on her shoulder pushing her to the side.

"These are Alyssa and Amanda's parents. They're here for dinner," I say looking at Heather, before turning to my in-laws with a smile. "Hi Donna and John. Merry Christmas!" I move toward Donna to give her a hug, as we pull back I press a kiss to her cheek and turn to John holding my hand out for him to shake. He shakes his head chuckling.

"Your family now Y/n come here," He reaches out pulling me into a hug. I laugh and return the hug, patting his back before pulling away.

"Oh honey what happened to your face? Your nose is all bruised." Donna says.

"Had a disagreement with a door this morning," I supply, "Mom barged into Alyssa and I's room this morning demanding food. She hit me in the face with the door when she came in,"

"Oh sweetheart! You need to ice that!" She exclaims.

"Your daughters have been helping me cook dinner all morning, they've been helping while I ice on and off for 20 minutes at a time. Is Abigail not coming?" I question noticing the absence of my wife's youngest sister. John shakes his head.

"Her and the kids are with Abby's husbands family this year they did send us with the gift for you and Alyssa though!" John says gesturing to the boxes he's holding in his hands. I chuckle and help him with the boxes before turning and leading them into the house.

"May I?" I ask gesturing to their coats once I had set the gifts by the tree next to the front windows. Donna nods and turns allowing me to help her remove her coat before hanging it on the coat rack by the door. I take John's from his hand and hang it next to his wife's.

"Thank you Y/n. I knew Alyssa did right by choosing you," Donna chuckles. Her husband nodding in agreement. I laugh along with them before leading them to the kitchen, but of course we're stopped before we make it there. This time by mom.

"Oh hello! And who might you be?" She asks. I can tell by her tone of voice she doesn't actually care who they are, she's just nosey.

"Mom, these are Alyssa's parents Donna and John. Donna, John this is my mom Y/m/n." I introduce them.

"Nice to meet you!" Donna says holding her hand out. My mom hums looking at Donna's hand in disgust before turning and walking towards the couch where Heather is sitting, some Christmas movie on the TV. I roll my eyes leading Donna and John to the kitchen where their daughters are.

"Remember at the wedding you had asked why my family wasn't there?" I whisper to the two. I glance back seeing them nod. "That's why. None of them care for me, they would have made the day hell. I'm glad they weren't there." I say once we were in the kitchen. Amanda and Alyssa look up from where they are drying dishes, eyes lighting up when they see their parents. They set down the dishes and rags before moving to greet their parents. I stand off to the side letting the family talk, getting lost in my thoughts. 

Why can't my family be like that?

"Babe?" I jump feeling Alyssa's hand on my arm.

"Sorry, what?" I ask, she gives me a soft smile bringing her hand from my arm to rest on my cheek. I sigh and lean into her hand relishing in the comfort she provides.

"You zoned out on us. Are you okay?" She asks brushing her thumb along my cheekbone. I bring my hand up resting it over hers, rubbing my thumb along the back of her hand.

"Yeah, just wish we didn't have the holiday crashers here. I was looking forward to a holiday with just us and your family." I press a kiss to her forehead pulling back to rest our foreheads together.

"Our family," She whispers into the air between us, "They became yours too the day we said 'I do'. Those crashers will not ruin our first Christmas married, Amanda and my parents won't let them," She says pressing a kiss to my lips, "I won't let them," I give her a smile and nod, pressing another kiss to her lips before turning to see her parents and Amanda talking but glancing at us every so often. I turn back to Alyssa looking into her eyes.

"I love you," I say. She smiles pressing another kiss to my lips sensing I need the comfort.

"I love you too. Now lets go enjoy our first Christmas as a married couple," I nod taking her hand from my cheek and intertwining our fingers, before letting her lead us to the island where her-our family is sitting.

"Oh Y/n! Alyssa was telling us that your getting ready to publish your new book. It's the next one in the Awaken series right?" John asks. I smile and nod.

"Yea, the detectives story isn't over yet. Alyssa has been a big help with the details and helping me work through the story line. I think I have at least two more books worth of ideas." I say happy to finally be able to talk about my writing with people other than Alyssa and her team. Those girls are obsessed with the series and keep asking for spoilers.

"Oh that's so exciting! What is the publish date? I want to be sure to get a copy before they sell out!" Donna asks. I move from my spot next to Alyssa to grab the 3 of bags from the counter.

"For you guys? Now," I say handing them each a bag before moving back to Alyssa, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"Wait? Really?" Amanda asks in shock, pulling out her copy of the book. Donna and John doing the same giving me a questioning look.

"Yeah, I had asked the published for a few copies before they hit the shelves in the new year. I wanted my family to have the first copies." I shrug as if it were no big deal.

"Aww thank you! I look forward to reading it!" Donna says setting the book on the counter before moving around it to pull me into a hug. I remove my arm from Alyssa to be able to return the gesture. Donna pulls away and cups my face in her hands looking into my eyes. "I'm proud of you. You've accomplished so much since Alyssa first introduced you to us 4 years ago." I try and blink away the tears ultimately failing. "Oh honey," Donna whispers pulling me into another hug. I feel three more sets of arms around us, without having to look I can tell it's Alyssa, Amanda and John. We stand there for a few minutes before breaking apart at the sound of the doorbell. I turn to Alyssa confused.

"Did you invite anyone else?" I ask, she shakes her head in response.

"No, everyone we invited is here," she says returning the confused look. I excuse myself from them before making my way to the front door. But of course mom is already there. I look at her confused when she turns around with a pizza box in her hands, after shutting the door.

"What's with the pizza? Dinner is almost done," I question. She shrugs handing me something before moving towards the couch, setting the box on the coffee table and sitting next to Heather. I take a deep breath seeing my wallet. I open it and see the cash I had in there gone. "Why do you have my wallet? This was upstairs in my room." I continue to question.

"Your sister wanted pizza, and neither one of us had any cash. I know you always have cash on you so I didn't think you'd mind." She says as if that's enough of an explanation as to why she'd steal my wallet and why they'd order pizza on Christmas.

You've got to be kidding me.

"We've been cooking Christmas dinner all day! Why would you order pizza? Why did you go into my room and take my wallet and money?" I try and keep calm knowing I've been on the verge of lashing out all day.

"What's going on in here?" Alyssa asks walking out of the kitchen. The rest of her family following behind, all looking confused.

"Y/m/n and Heather ordered pizza for dinner meanwhile we've spent all day cooking Christmas dinner." I say, closer and closer to finally losing my cool. Alyssa, sensing this, moves quickly to stand by my side resting her hand on the small of my back rubbing small circles knowing that clams me down. I let out a sigh and slightly relax into her touch.

"It's okay baby, relax." Alyssa whispers into my ear. I relax further at her words but my eyes snap open at the comment from my sister.

"Gross, haven't you gotten over that gay thing yet? I thought that was just a phase in high school." she scoffs. I glare at my 'sister' looking to my mom who is standing by nodding in agreement with Heather. "You could do so much better than her any way. I mean look at her-" she gestures to Alyssa who's touch halts on my back.

At that point all I see is red.

"Seriously?!?" I exclaim cutting her off from continuing. I slowly push away from Alyssa finally at my breaking point. "You can say anything you want to about me. I'm used to your bullshit having been exposed to it all my life, but when you start talking bad about my wife. That! Is where I draw the line." I say moving towards the guest bedroom my mom was staying in.

"Wife?" I hear behind me but I ignore it continuing on my way. I stuff all of her belongings into her bag before moving to the front door. I open it and throw her bag onto the front porch. I turn to her and Heather who look at me like I'm crazy.

"I've had enough of you two ruining my life. You need to leave. Now. Or I will not hesitate to call the police and have you forcefully removed from the premises." I stand and point to the open door waiting for them to move.

"But sweetheart, it's Christmas you can't throw your family out onto the streets," Y/m/n says trying to guilt me like she used to. I walk towards her stopping behind the couch.

"No, you haven't been my family for a long time. My family is those people over there who actually care about me unlike you who has always put Heather over me. For once in my life, I will not back down. Now leave or I will call the cops." The two share a look before moving to the front door. I grab the pizza box off the coffee table before following behind them to the front door.

"Don't forget your Christmas dinner," I call as they get to the steps on the porch. They turn to me, Y/m/n reaching out to take it, I smile sweetly opening the box before throwing it at her causing her to scream and shock. "Oops…I tripped." I shrug before closing the door. I lean my back against it letting out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"Baby, are you okay?" I feel Alyssa's hand on my cheek, muck like earlier, softly brushing her thumb over my cheekbone. I bring my arms up to wrap around her waist before taking a deep breath, opening my eyes looking into hers. I lean forward pressing a kiss to her lips letting it linger for a moment before pulling back resting my forehead on hers.

"I've never been better. Now I get to peacefully enjoy our first Christmas together as a married couple with your- sorry our family," I whisper, she smiles pressing another kiss to my lips. I pull her closer to me, resting my head on her shoulder as her arms move to wrap around my neck holding me in a hug. I glance up over her shoulder to see Amanda, Donna and John back in the kitchen sitting around the island laughing together.

"Yea, definitely our family," I sigh pressing a final kiss to her lips before moving so one arm is around her waist as I lead us into the kitchen to enjoy Christmas together.

~~~

I watch from my place on the bed as Alyssa gets ready to sleep, moving around the room doing her night routine. The others in the guest rooms having decided to head to bed after we all watched a Christmas movie with hot cocoa. The TV remote in my hand ready to press play on The Santa Clause, one of Alyssa and I's favorites.

"Are you sure you're okay? Today was a lot," Alyssa asks as she climbs under the covers, snuggling into my side. Her head resting on my shoulder but tilted up to be able to look me in the eyes looking for signs I'm lying. I wrap my arm around her shoulder, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Of course, I mean my nose will be bruised for a few days but other than that I am fine. This has been a long time coming. I'm sorry it happened on Christmas but I don't regret that it happened. I hope they take the hint and never contact me again." I explain, she smiles leaning up to press a soft kiss to my bruised nose. "I love you Alyssa," I whisper as she pulls back.

"I love you too Y/n, forever." I send her a smile before leaning back in bed pressing play on the remote before setting it down to wrap both arms around my wife.

Best Christmas Ever.

[appocalipse]

summary: you were way too drunk last night and said some funny things...so, of course, steve had no other option but take you to his place to take care of you. :)

read part 1 here

˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷

Your head hurts.

Everything feels a little weird, in fact, but especially your head, spinning and throbbing and, when you try to pry your eyes open, the sudden harsh light streaming into the room feels like it's physically boring straight through your brain.

"Fuck," you whimper pitifully, eyes squeezing shut once more. Your ears are ringing, there's a coppery film lining the inside of your mouth and, for a terrible second, your stomach churns dangerously. "Fuck."

Someone hums somewhere near your right ear. A low, gravelly, vaguely amused sort of hum. There is absolutely nothing and no one alive on this green earth that would hum in that particular fashion except your best friend.

You peel your eyelids apart with great difficulty. When you tilt your head to the right, you see Steve sitting on the edge of the bed, gazing down at you with a soft look on his face.

Naturally, you proceed to freak the fuck out.

"Jesus Christ," you cry, scrambling backwards until you feel the back of your head slam against the headboard with a resounding thud. The dull throb in the back of your skull intensifies, and you have to fight back the urge to throw up. "Ow! Shit, I—What—what happened? Why are you in my—"

Hold on a second...this is not your room.

You cast an anxious, furtive glance around the unfamiliar setting of Steve Harrington's guest room. Panic floods your veins and has your heart hammering in your chest when you notice that you're clad in only one of his shirts and sweatpants that definitely don't belong to you.

Oh, Dear Lord.

Did something happen last night that you can't remember? Did something — oh, God, no.

Steve raises his eyebrows at you as though he can read your mind. "Relax. Nothing happened, relax, come back down," he coos gently, placing a placating hand on your arm. "And I...I didn't see anything, if that's what you're worried about. Nancy and Robin, uh...they helped you shower and get changed last night. Not me."

You cover your face with both hands, letting out a muffled groan as your memories come trickling back in. You don't remember every little detail from the previous night, but what you do remember is already more than enough to fill you with mortification and regret.

"...you said some pretty interesting things while you were drunk, though."

"Shut up," you mumble, peeking up at him through splayed fingers, "go away."

"Really, though," Steve continues, the teasing glint in his eyes a sure sign that he is very much enjoying your suffering, "who knew you found me so attractive?"

"Oh, Jesus," you mutter, groaning as you slide down to hide underneath the comforter, "where are my clothes? I want to leave now."

Steve snickers but makes no move to get up from his perch on the bed. You can hear the rustling of fabric, like he's adjusting his position as he waits for you to come out from under the blanket. "Clothes are in the wash, sorry," he says, sounding very much not sorry at all. "You, um, thought it was a good idea to lie down on the grass last night."

"Kill me now."

"Nope," he chirps, quite cheerfully so, "can't do that, because then who would watch Back to the Future with me tonight?"

You part the comforter just enough to peer up at him from beneath the thick layer of blanket.

"'Back to the Future'?" you echo, trying to ignore the fact that you feel a little lightheaded when Steve smiles down at you.

He looks nice. He always does, but even more so now for some reason — you're guessing it has something to do with the fact that you just woke up and haven't had the time to mentally prepare yourself for seeing him up close yet.

"Mmhmm. You up for it?"

"I'm pretty sure that my head is literally going to explode any time now." 

It's really not that bad anymore, but Steve doesn't need to know that, does he?

He nods seriously in agreement. "Right, because you drank way more than you should've last night. Might have mentioned something about rules and...mhmm, what was it? Oh, yes, dying if I didn't let you touch my hair…?"

"No, I didn't."

"You really did," he tells you, leaning back on the heels of his palms, "but don't worry, it was cute."

"I am very much worried," you say miserably.

Steve lets out a quiet sigh and leans forward again, hands reaching out to tug the blanket down far enough to uncover your face completely. "Come on," he says, "do you need anything? Aspirin, maybe? Food? Water?"

You consider his offer, taking the time to mull it over while you avoid his gaze. 

"Why did you bring me home with you?" you ask, curious despite yourself. "Why didn't you just take me home?"

"You, uh...really didn't want me to. Pretty much refused to let go of me all night."

"Steve."

"No, really!" he insists, holding both hands up in surrender. "It was like trying to pry a koala off a tree. You even asked—"

You let out a helpless moan of protest and turn away from him as much as you can, hiding your face in the pillow. Steve laughs, clearly delighted by the fact that he's managed to thoroughly embarrass you in less than ten minutes.

"You asked me if I—"

"I don't wanna know!"

"—would sleep in your bed with you."

"Nope," you whisper, your voice coming out a little garbled due to the way you've pressed your face into the pillows, "don't wanna hear it. Shut up, Steve, oh my God. Please."

"It was very adorable."

"I was drunk."

"Still. Cute."

You prop your head up on your elbow so that you can see him a little better, keeping the blanket held tightly around your shoulders as you do. "Sorry I called you. I don't even remember doing it, Tina just told me to and…sorry."

Steve looks down at his lap, shifting a little uncomfortably on the bed.

"I don't mind," he says, lifting his gaze up to meet yours briefly. "You said you missed me. At the party."

A dry, humorless chuckle leaves you and you cringe when the sudden motion sends a sharp pain lancing through your forehead. "Ow. Of course you would remember that," you say, cheeks heating up.

"Do you...remember everything?"

You blink, momentarily confused by the sudden change in conversation. "Everything?" you ask, more to buy yourself some time than anything else.

"You, um..." Steve trails off, clearly unsure of how to broach the topic with you, "you said I made you feel…stuff inside. That you felt stuff. Or something like that. Do you...remember saying that?"

You can practically feel all the color draining out of your face, leaving behind a blank canvas that hides none of your inner panic. 

"Uh...no, no, I don't. Do you have a...I need to, um, use your bathroom, like, right now, if you don't mind."

Steve blinks. "Oh, okay. Sure. I bought you a toothbrush earlier, by the way. It's in the medicine cabinet if...if you want."

"Yep," you say, climbing out from under the blanket with as much dignity as you can muster (which is very little), "yep, okay, thanks. I'm...gonna go do that. Now. Okay, bye."

You spend a good five minutes inside the bathroom splashing water in your face while silently wishing for death to come claim you sooner rather than later. Then, you brush your teeth with the toothbrush Steve left out for you — which is totally not cute, it's not cute, why did he do that, ugh, damn him — before venturing out into the hall.

"Steve?"

"Kitchen," he calls out from somewhere at the bottom of the stairs, "you want pancakes?"

You hesitate.

The idea of staying to have breakfast alone with Steve Harrington seems oddly intimate after last night, a dangerous prospect that will undoubtedly lead to awkward small talk and more teasing. However, he did go out of his way to buy you a toothbrush this morning...

You swallow down the nervousness you feel and pad barefoot down the staircase into the foyer, following the sounds of clinking utensils and soft humming to the kitchen.

Steve looks up from his place at the stove when you appear in the doorway.

"Hey," he greets, giving you a quick once over. "How's your head?"

"Feels like there's a little person in there hitting it repeatedly with a little hammer," you admit, grimacing a little as you come further into the room and sit down at the island. "Thanks, by the way. For helping me out last night. And today. I really am sorry for...um, you know, that."

"'That'?"

You purse your lips and Steve grins.

"Yes, that," you mutter, swiveling your seat from left to right while you watch him attempt to read a recipe on the back of a box of pancake mix. "Drunk me is like, twice as embarrassing as sober me."

"Embarrassing isn't the word I'd use."

"Please," you scoff, "I was pathetic. I could barely walk by myself."

Steve glances back at you. "I didn't think you were pathetic."

You raise an eyebrow at him skeptically.

"Okay, maybe a little pathetic," he concedes with a little snort, "but mostly just…sweet."

"Sweet?"

"Yeah, sweet. Don't know if anyone's ever told you that before."

"Sweet," you say again, the headache suddenly no more than an afterthought. "That's how you'd describe me?"

Steve, apparently having given up on making sense out of the instructions on the back of the box, turns around to lean against the counter behind him and studies you with his arms folded loosely over his chest.

"Yes," he says, tilting his head to the side a little. "Not the word you expected me to say?"

There's something about the way he's looking at you. It's warm and piercing all at once, like he can see right through you. It makes it hard for you to breathe all of a sudden, hard for you to do anything but gape at him like a goldfish that's been pulled out of water.

"Uh, I'm...confused."

"Me too," he admits with a little huff of laughter. "I was thinking about what you said."

"About your hair?"

"No, well, yeah, but—" Steve pauses, dragging a hand down his face with a weary sigh. "Look, what you said to me yesterday, about the things I make you feel, I—"

"I said I'm sorry—"

"Don't apologize," Steve interrupts, shooting you an unamused look, "I'm trying to say something here, come on, give me a sec."

"Right. Sorry. Go on."

"You're not supposed to apologize for apologizing."

"I'm s—okay, right. Mouth shut."

Steve purses his lips to stifle his amusement at your antics. You fold your arms in front of your chest and keep your gaze fixed firmly on the marble countertop as you wait for him to continue.

"I, uh," he says, pushing himself away from the counter so that he can wander over to the other side of the kitchen, where you sit, "I feel things too, you know. With you."

"Oh."

"Yeah," Steve chuckles, scrubbing a hand across the back of his neck as he stops beside you, "'Oh'. Weird, right?"

You'd like to, but can't think of anything clever to say that would serve as a suitable response. You don't think Steve's looking for one, anyway, because he reaches out to tap his fingers lightly on the back of your hand, taking a seat on the stool next to yours.

"S'weird, 'cause I don't know if you meant what you said when you were drunk, or if it was just the alcohol talking, or what."

You shake your head quickly, and then wince because of the way the headache thuds behind your right eye.

"Robin says I'm an idiot and should stop being such a chicken," he continues, with a slight roll of his eyes. "And Eddie says if I don't 'shut up and tell you how I feel soon', he'll do it for me."

You nod, smiling despite your hangover. "Eddie's, uh, got a point, no?"

"Maybe," Steve allows, rubbing absently at the side of his neck.

He lets his hands slide down to the legs of your stool, fingers curling around the metal of each side. You don't quite understand what he's doing until he gives them a light tug, jerking you closer to him without warning.

You let out a little shriek of surprise as you reach up to clutch onto the first solid thing your hands find — his forearms. 

"Ah! What—Steve!"

He's got an amused smile on his face, but his eyes are bright and nervous all at once. Steve pushes your stool even closer to him, until your knees knock against his own and he's forced to lean down to keep his eyes on you.

You hold his gaze steadily as he edges closer. "What are you doing?" you murmur, watching his eyes flit downward to track the movement of your tongue as it peeks out to wet your dry lips.

"Not sure yet," Steve hesitates when your lips are a hairsbreadth apart. He watches, half-dazed, half-entranced by the way you stare back at him, unblinking. "But I've got a theory."

"A theory?"

He lowers his head toward yours. You press your hands flat against the hard plane of his chest to steady yourself, fingers splaying over the soft material of his t-shirt as you curl them around the fabric. Steve exhales, and you can feel his breath on your skin, a soft tickle that raises the goosebumps all over your skin.

"Wanna hear it?"

You nod slowly, aware of the way his eyes darken as they trace your face. He's so close that you can make out the fine dusting of freckles and moles that litter his skin, the long fan of his lashes as they flutter to a close. If you moved even slightly, your lips would brush against his.

"What's your…your theory?" you whisper.

You can feel his heartbeat thudding in his chest as he releases his hold on your stool, lifts both hands up to cradle your face instead. He slides the tips of his fingers along the side of your neck, lets his thumb trace your jaw.

"I think," Steve says, and you can tell he's struggling to string two coherent words together when you feel his thumb quiver against your cheekbone. "I think that, uh, you're—Christ, I—"

His nose brushes against yours and you tilt your chin up instinctively, chasing the brief contact. You smirk. "Christ, you...?"

"Shut up," Steve huffs out a breathless laugh. "I'm getting to it."

"Are you?" you tease, wrapping your fingers around his wrist, your turn to pull him towards you gently.

Steve goes easily, moving his hand from your face to brace the back of your neck. "I think," he starts, eyes crinkling at the corners, "that I might be in love with you."

It's such an unforeseen, unexpected confession that your heart almost gives out in your chest. 

You gape up at him, at his crooked grin, at his rosy cheeks. "You think?"

He blinks and then squints down at you like he can't decide whether he wants to be annoyed at your antics or kiss you. You hope for the latter, but he says, "What're you, a parrot?"

Shrugging, you're unable to keep your lips from quirking into a grin of your own. "Rude."

Steve's head falls forward and he rests his forehead against yours. You can feel his pulse thundering wildly against the hand you've pressed flat against his chest, and it makes you feel a little better about your own pounding heart.

"M'sorry."

You smooth a hand over his shirt and hook a finger under the neckline. "Forgiven," you tell him.

"Good," Steve says, nudging his nose against yours playfully.

You want to say something else, maybe tease him about his hair or something equally as inconsequential, but he doesn't let you. Instead, he leans down and closes the distance between you with a slow, tentative press of his lips to yours.

Now, Steve's mouth is soft and warm, and he kisses you like he's got all the time in the world. You shiver when he drags his fingers up the back of your neck, tangling them in your hair so that he can pull you closer yet.

You only pull back when the need to breathe becomes too urgent, giggling at the little noise of protest he lets out as you do. But Steve is nothing if not persistent, and he pulls you back in almost immediately, the movement so abrupt that you nearly topple backwards off the stool.

"Steve—I..." you manage to say, between your giggles and the heated press of his lips against yours. "I still...need to breathe, mister."

He huffs out a little laugh against the side of your neck, nips at the sensitive skin in retaliation. You squeal in delight and jab him playfully in the stomach, laughing as he recoils in mock agony.

"Stop laughing," Steve complains, the warmth of his own laughter tickling the underside of your chin when he nuzzles his nose into your neck once more, "come on, you're ruining the moment."

"Wait," you breathe, right before his lips meet yours again, "so...no pancakes, then?"

He drops his forehead against your shoulder and shakes with quiet laughter."You," Steve mumbles into the side of your neck, "are something else, you know that?"

You grin. "Apparently, you like that. Love that...no?"

You can feel him smile, the stretch of his lips curving against the skin of your shoulder.

"Apparently...yeah, I do. I do."

[erwinsvow]

the frustration shy reader must feel bc she’s freaky… no doubt about it, but rafe is like she’s too precious and innocent for that

no srsly.. he thinks shes so fragile because she took some time to adjust to being intimate w him but its like no she was just a shy virgin and rafe is so overwhelming but like when she gets comfortable... its a whole diff story !

"c'mon, kid, hasn't even been an hour," rafe groans, while you crawl into his lap again. you sit right on his dick, moving the way that you know will get you dicked down within the next ten minutes. or at least you thought it would.

rafe's huge hands come to your hips, lifting you up and off, tumbling onto the bedspace next to him.

"m'not a dildo, kid. give it a rest, it's fuckin' tired."

"i bet i can wake it up," you giggle, hand snaking back onto rafe's chest and trailing down. he grabs your wrist.

"what the fuck. are-are you not satisifed. is that what this is?"

"i never said that," you say with a sincere shake of your head and one of your concerned looks. "oh, am i not supposed to want it more? is that bad?"

rafe's not sure what he's gonna do with you.

"no, baby, it's not bad. it's healthy." you look relieved, chest heaving slower while you sink into your side of the bed.

he thinks that's the end of the conversation, but it comes up again a few days later, when he picks you up and takes you out for icecream on the pier. you lick your cone, watching the sunset while rafe stares at you, when ropes from someone's boat catches your eye.

"that rope looks strong," you comment, with another swipe of your tongue. rafe's about to start a lecture on boats when you cut him off, piping in again. "i bet if you tied me up with that i couldn't even move. it would probably leave scars. right?" you glance up from the rope to look at your boyfriend.

"huh?"

"the rope. if you tied it around my wrists and ankles. it would probably leave a mark. and hurt. you think we can take that rope or should we buy our own?"

he stares at you, not sure if you're joking.

"no, no one's tying you up with rope. what the fuck?"

"ugh. rafe?"

"yeah? kid?"

"you want some?" you offer, handing him the ice cream cone.

the next time he's heard enough. he's driving through the woods, a creepy backroad that led him to barry's, where he'd taken you with him since it was late at night. there's no lights, just the moon and the trees.

you stare out the window, he thinks you're tired from the day's activities.

"what're you thinkin' about, kid?"

"i bet if you let me loose in these woods you wouldn't be able to find me." he's a little confused, but sometimes you say odd shit so he goes along with it.

"yeah, that's what getting lost means."

"no, silly, not lost. if you let me run so you could chase me." you crane your neck, looking out the window at the expanse of the forest.

"to... find you?"

"duh, rafe. how else could we have sex in the woods if you don't find me. that's the whole point, you have to chase me. like a predator animal. i wonder if there's bears in these woods."

"are you jokin'?" you turn to look at him, with that same confused expression, sweet and confused.

"no? why?" he slams on the brakes, pulling over.

"get real, kid. you want me to chase you through the forest and fuck you, what, against a tree?"

"no, rafe," you start sincerely, looking concerned. "not against a tree, wouldn't that hurt? maybe on the grass. it just depends how far i get, until you find me, i guess. it looks like just trees here."

he stares at you, and then back at his hands on the wheel.

"rafe?"

"yes?"

"so are we gonna do it today, or..?"

[intoxicated-chan]

What about a first time having sex with Miguel and he accidentally hurts them in which he gets very insecure and stuff, and although reader is hurt she still somewhat comforts him and they continue?

You’re Right By My Side

✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x GN!Reader

✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ You and Miguel had complete trust in each other, but when it came to more intimate moments, he wanted to sure that he was always careful.

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Inspired by “Dead of Night” by Orville Peck. Requests will still be closed for a while since I want to get out as much as I can so please be patient with me! I used Spanishdict so please let me know if there is anything wrong!!

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 920

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Gender neutral reader, sexual content, clawing, blood, angst-to-fluff, hand job, penetration, dacryphilia, light begging, size kink?

Want more Miguel content? Check out my MASTERLIST!

You enjoyed the way he held you in his arms and hands, the same hands that protected you from any harm that came your way. It showed how much he loves you. And if there was one thing that nobody knew about Miguel, it was how much of a softie that he could be when it came to moments like these.

You were laid back on the bed that you shared with him, he hovered over you. You could see how clouded his eyes were. He was in between your legs and one of his hands went down to his cock, barely pushing in and out of your hole.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.” He leaned down and whispered into your ear.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, “Please.” You asked him, tears swelling in your eyes as tried to pull him closer.

“I’ll give it to you.” He pressed his forehead up against yours, and slowly, he pushed himself in.

You tried your best to relax, your hands came up to his back and your nails dug into his skin. Finally, he bottomed out. He let you adjust for a couple of minutes before you tapped his back, letting him know that he could move.

Yet he couldn’t help himself, his slow pace quickly went faster and faster. Not that you’re complaining, you threw your head back as your Miguel went fast and hard. It was harder than you expect though.

Your walls were tight and hot around his cock, filling right to the brim and slipping in and out of you with ease. Using one of his hands, his fingers slipped over your lips and you obediently sucked on them.

His other hand was once on the side of your head but moved down to grab your waist tightly. Your hips grinded against his cock, begging for more.

With each thrust, you were pushed into bed and his fingers were pulled from your mouth. His hand went to clutch the mattress to the point where his knuckles were white.

You were moaning on the top of your lungs and you could feel his hot breath on your ear. That’s when you felt the sudden snap of pain.

It makes your moans stop and jolt in response. You felt something warm pooling besides and when you looked down at your hips, you saw blood.

“Miguel-!” You pushed at his chest, “There’s blood!” You hiss loudly.

Miguel pulled his body away from you and looked down at your hip, seeing his familiar claw marks on them. He could see the mattress soaking up the blood.

“Shit!” Miguel rushed out of the room and came back with a rag and bandages, “I’m so sorry- I didn’t mean…” No words can describe his shock and shock was an understatement.

You took a deep breath as you felt the rag graze over the open wounds. You sat up carefully, turning on your side so he could clean it better.

“It’s fine.” You continued to take deep breaths.

“It’s not fine!” Miguel retorted, looking over the wounds. They weren’t very deep but they did bleed. Once he was sure the bleeding stopped, he began to patch them up.

“It’s nothing, Miguel. Just a few scratches.”

“That I made.” Miguel was done cleaning your wounds.

You sat up and moved closer to Miguel, cupping his face so you can look at him, “I forgive you, Miguel. Look at me, please.”

He looks at you, he’s slow doing it and you could see the pain and anger in his eyes. You know how he swore to never harm you, ever.

“You have done nothing but care for me Miguel.” Your thumb runs over his cheek, “And I know how much it hurts you to hurt me but I’m fine Miguel. It will heal.”

“It could scar.”

“Then I’ll wear the scar with pride.” You weren’t going to lie, seeing Miguel hurt you as well, it broke your heart to see him like this, “This is nothing Miguel, at the end of the day, it will heal, and I forgive you.”

You went to place a kiss on his forehead but he quickly moved to kiss you on the lips. It wasn’t a hungry kiss but instead a soft one.

One of your hands travels down his body and slowly to his cock, “May I?” You ask him and he nods. You wrap your hand around his cock and slowly pump him, whispering sweet nothings into his ear to soothe his emotions.

You then moved onto his lap, your hole right over his cock. You kept your eyes on him, you used your free hand to grab his chin and make him look up, “Ready?”

He nodded.

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Por favor muévete.” (Please move.)

You lowered yourself down on his cock, his hips jutted to go faster, but you put your hands on his shoulders as support, “Please, hold me, Miguel.”

You don’t see it but his hands shook as they slowly were placed on your waist. He was careful, especially with the hand over the bandages.

But then he moved to pull you closer, like a hug as you rode him.

“Por favor no te vayas.” Miguel whispered, “Por favor no me dejes.” (Please don’t go, please don’t leave me.)

Your hands came up to his hair, running your fingers through him, “I’m not going anywhere.” You pant, “I’ll always love you, Miguel.”

© 2023 Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without permission.

[jenzcoxg]

NCT DREAM (00 line): When you moan their name in your sleep

WARNINGS: All scenarios include smut.

Renjun

Renjun wouldn't really know what to do or what to say. He would be reading a book because he wasn't really as tired and you. The book is some spicy novel he bought the previous day, he thought he should get a book because he doesn't really read often. Earlier tonight, you and Renjun went to a party. The party was boring af but it seemed to wear you out. "Renjun" you moan. "Yes?" He asked. You didn't answer. all you said was "Renjun~" This time is sounded more like a whine then a moan. "You okay baby?" He asked then tapping your shoulder. Still no response. "Fuck right there!" You yelled. Renjun realizing what was happening, he groaned. "Renjun?" You ask, awake now that he accidentally elbowed you. "Babe~, you were dreaming of sex!" He said in a groan. "How do you know?" you ask. "You were moaning OUT LOUD!" "IM SORRY! I CANT HELP YOU LOOKED SO FINE AT THAT PARTY! I wanted to get your attention but you were to busy talking to your friend! So I went and talked to this random guy I found and danced with him to get you to pay attention to me!" You admit more of what you wanted to say. "Please don't be mad" you whine. "Oh your getting it now missy."

Jeno

Jeno was in the bathroom, brushing his teeth, washing his face. You know, basically his night routine. He put the towel back on the shelf, and that's when he heard it. "Oh my God, Jeno!" He thought you were hurt, so he ran into the bedroom. "Y/n! Baby! what happened?!" him yelling startled you. "AHH! WHAT THE FUCK JENO? I WAS TRYING TO SLEEP!" You yelled at him thinking he was schizophrenic. "Are you okay? I thought you were hurt!" He asks, putting his hand on your shoulder. "Jeno, I'm not hurt." "What?" "I think you heard something else..." You said with frown. "What are you talking about?" He asks. "I was-" you tried to say before he cut you off. "YOU WERE HAVING A WET DREAM?" "YES! Bro I can't help that you looked so good in those grey sweatpants!" You said to him, avoiding eye contact. "Oh! You could have just said you wanted me." "Fine! I want you!" He smirked "I want you too baby."

Haechan

Haechan is a light sleeper so the second he hears your voice he wakes up. "Haechan" His eyes open, he turns to you and looks the other direction before closing his eyes once more. He wasn't sure if it was you or a noise in the house that woke him. "Haechan" you moaned a bit louder this time. Again, Haechan"s eyes were wide open, he turned to you "Hm?" thinking you were awake, he hummed again, but louder, incase you didn't hear him, he was loud enough for you to hear him. "Haechan? Are you okay?" you ask, "Do you want something? You've said my name alot." Haechan said, adjusting his position to see you better. "Oh shit." "Wait a damn minute, did you just have a wet dream?" you cover your face in embarrassment. "You just did!" Haechan said while laughing. "Okay maybe I did. But, I bet it would be way better if the real Haechan was fucking me" Haechan smiled at your words "Bet."

Jaemin

Jaemin was playing his game. He was on a call with his friends as well. He was so close to getting a kill, when all the sudden, "Jaemin~" It sounded like a whisper, but Jaemin still heard it. It caused Jaemin to die in his game. It was really quiet in the room. All you could hear was Jaemins friends yelling at him through his headphones. "Yes, baby?" He didn't hear a response. "Baby-?" "Oh god, Jaemin!" He got cut off by you moaning once again. "Y/n? What's wrong, baby?" Jaemin lightly tapped your shoulder. He woke you up, causing you to groan. "What?" you asked, unhappy that he woke you up. "You were saying my name like, 200 times." Jaemin said, making you gasp. "Oops." You covered your mouth. Jaemin raised a brow at you. "What? Wait?" Jaemin sat down next to you. "You were dreaming about me!" Jaemin started to laugh. "Yes! Jaemin, I was gonna ask if you could fuck me but you were playing your game!" Jaemin got on top of you. "Well, what are you waiting for? Ask."

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

AUTHORS NOTE: Hi guys!!! Thank you for reading. I will try to post sometime again this month. Please ask anything!

- @jenzcoxg

[ihrtnanami]

last christmas!

gojo satoru! x f!reader

inspired by wham!'s last christmas! relationship revival on the most romantic day of the year!?

pt. 1 (currently reading!) pt. 2 (finale - out soon!)

word count: 1.7k (next chapter will be longer :3)

christmas time - one of the best times of the year.

to most people it is. and for you, it usually would be too.

but, last christmas still has you a bit shaken.

you spent it with satoru. and on that same day, he left - no explanation, no goodbye. he was just… gone.

it hurt. badly.

in the beginning, you tried to reach out to him, desperate for answers, some kind of closure. but every text, every call, was met with silence. when he finally did speak to you, his words were colder than the snow falling outside.

"you deserve more than this," he said to you once, his voice cracked with guilt.

and after that, you had to let him go. it was the only thing left to do. the love you once shared felt like a dream you couldn't quite touch anymore.

now it’s late december, and you should have finished your christmas shopping by now. honestly, you’ve had plenty of time... but between being a full-time college student and working a full-time job, procrastination has crept in like an old friend.

or maybe you’re just avoiding the season altogether. it’s hard to focus on the festivities when last year’s ghosts still linger in your mind.

in the bustling mall, you glance at your phone, double-checking the names and gifts you’ve bought so far.

candles?

check.

tea set?

check.

digital camera?

also check.

sighing, you adjust the handful of bags in your grasp. you've been shopping for a little while now. it's time for a break, right?

scanning the food court, your eyes land on a small cafe tucked into a corner. it's charming with warm lighting and a cozy, minimalistic vibe. the windows are adorned with simple christmas garlands, and the faint smell of fresh pastries drift through the air.

"maybe i'll grab a coffee... and a pastry." you think to yourself.

lugging around all of the bags in your hands, you walk to the cafe and wait in the relatively short line. as you wait, you let your gaze wander, taking in the little details of the shop - the chalkboard menu with cheerful handwriting, the tiny wreath hanging above the counter.

it was all so comforting.

once you turn back to look at the line ahead of you, something catches your eye. to the left, there's someone sitting alone.

white hair, fair skin.

"that's a nice head of hair for an old man." you think to yourself - until the man turns to face someone trying to get his attention.

"huh, that looks exactly like..."

"gojo!" a barista calls out.

shit.

you instinctively pull your coat up to cover your mouth and let your hair fall over your face. maybe, just maybe… you can avoid this.

but even with your little disguise, you know he’s already spotted you.

damn six eyes.

you reach into your pocket and take your phone out, scrolling through your notifications, hoping satoru would get the hint. but does he?

absolutely not.

with his coffee in hand, and his muffin in the other, he strides up to you.

your heart races, and all you want to do is leave the cafe and never return to this mall again.

"y/n?"

sighing, you turn off your phone and shove it back into your pocket. pulling the coat away from your mouth, you nod.

"hi, gojo," you reply flatly.

he looks down at the ground, he looks almost... defeated? surely, he didn’t expect you to address him by his given name, right?

he clears his throat, "last-minute christmas shopping, huh?"

you nod, stepping forward as the line moves.

he looks around awkwardly. there's so so much he wants to say, but doesn't know if he should.

"how's everything?" he asks.

"everything's fine, can't complain," you reply.

satoru nods, "good, good,"

the silence between you is heavy, filled with unsaid words.

"so... how's your-" he begins, but the barista interrupts, calling you to the counter to place your order.

you step forward, grateful for the excuse to get away, even for a moment.

after placing your order, you pull out your wallet to pay, only to notice satoru has already covered it. you stare blankly at the screen wishing you a "merry christmas".

you stare at the screen, then back at him, shaking your head.

at the pick-up counter, you drop your bags to the floor, finally allowing yourself a moment to breathe. but of course, satoru follows, standing a little too close for comfort.

"so, as I was saying," he begins again, "how’s your mother? do you think she remembers me?"

you raise an eyebrow.

“she’s fine, and of course she remembers you, gojo. i don't see why she wouldn't,” you respond coldly.

his lips twitch into a faint smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. he’s probably fishing for an ego boost. as expected.

awkward silence envelops you both before satoru breaks the silence again.

"hey, y/n?"

you turn to face him with tears threatening to fall. and yet, they don't.

"what?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

his eyes widen slightly before he sets his coffee and muffin on the counter and wraps his arms around you.

"i'm so sorry, y/n i-" and once again, the barista interrupts. she calls out your name, placing your drink and pastry in front of you on the counter.

"damn it... hey, go sit at that table over there, i'll bring your stuff," satoru says gently, reluctantly letting go of you. he smiles softly and nods towards an empty table with two chairs.

you nod silently, walking to the table as you blink away your tears.

why are you getting emotional now? in front of satoru too, nonetheless.

satoru hurries over with your shopping bags, setting them beside you before rushing back to the counter. moments later, he returns with your drink and pastry, followed by his own.

placing your things in front of you, he takes the seat across from you. he watches as sat there in silence, fighting away your tears.

"y/n? are... are you alright?" he asks, his gaze dropping to the table.

of course you aren't alright, but you're far too stubborn to admit it to him.

you sigh, taking a deep breath.

"i'm alright, gojo. don't worry," you say.

grasping your cup, you feel the comforting warmth of the coffee inside. you lift it to your lips, taking a small sip, savoring the taste and heat.

satoru watches you silently, unsure of what to say. he of course isn't convinced by your words.

you place the cup back down, avoiding satoru's gaze. you didn't want to look at him - not now, not yet.

satoru takes a deep breath, his fingers absently crumbling pieces of his muffin as if he’s trying to stall for time. then, with a voice flat and emotionless, he begins to speak.

"i killed my best friend last christmas."

the words hang heavy in the air, their weight sinking into you like stones.

killed... his best friend?

what kind of sick joke is this?

you blink at him, trying to understand what he means. is he calling you his best friend, and the break up the death of you?

"last christmas, before I came to your apartment, the higher-ups called me in to do something,” he continues, his gaze distant, avoiding yours entirely.

“you remember me showing up late, right?"

the memory flashes in your mind. he had shown up late that night. you'd asked him about it, but he’d brushed it off with some vague excuse.

you nod, still trying to piece together where this is going.

"suguru... it was... suguru," he added, his gaze dropping to the table as if the name alone was too heavy to bear. "i had to kill him. last christmas. right before i was supposed to come over to your place."

you freeze as your grip on your cup tightens momentarily. the name strikes you like a slap, leaving you breathless.

he... killed suguru? why?

your heart pounds as you stare at him, waiting for him to explain. satoru’s lips press into a thin line, and he takes another shallow breath before continuing.

"he committed a mass murder of non-sorcerers," satoru says, his tone steady but hollow.

all this time, you’d thought suguru was ignoring your texts because of your split with satoru.

"suguru?" you whisper, your voice cracking. "he... he did that?"

satoru nods, his expression unreadable.

"it wasn’t the first time, but it was the worst. he’d gone too far. the higher-ups ordered me to deal with it... and i did."

you feel like the ground beneath you is crumbling. suguru - kind, funny, sarcastic... suguru was capable of something like that? and satoru... satoru had been the one to...

"i didn’t want to," satoru says suddenly, his voice trembling now. his hand tightens around his cup, shaking the coffee inside.

"i wanted to save him. i tried. god... i tried so hard. but he wouldn’t stop. he wouldn’t come back."

you see his jaw tighten, his eyes glistening with something that looks suspiciously like unshed tears.

"so, when i showed up at your place that night," he continues, his voice quieter now, "i wasn’t just late, y/n. i was broken. i had just taken the life of my best friend, and... i didn’t know how to tell you. i didn’t even know how to face you."

a lump forms in your throat, and you struggle to swallow it down.

"why... why didn’t you tell me?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

satoru looks at you, his usually bright eyes dim and clouded. "because i couldn’t drag you into it, i wouldn't allow you to get dragged into the mess, the aftermath of the mess. and... because i... well, i thought you’d hate me. because i hated myself."

you sit there, staring at him, as the pieces of the past year start to fall into place. the guilt in his voice when he left. the way he avoided your calls. his sudden absence, like a ghost fading into the background of your life. it all makes sense now, but that doesn’t make it any less painful.

"you deserved better than the wreck of a person i became," satoru admits, leaning back in his chair, his hands shaking slightly. "i thought i was protecting you by leaving, but... i just ended up hurting you more."

for a long moment, neither of you says anything. the quiet hum of the cafe feels louder than ever, the muffled conversations around you blending into meaningless noise.

12/15/2024 ♡ ihrtnanami

[4rafe]

INNOCENCE || R. CAMERON

warnings; !!not proofread!!, drugs & using of them, alcohol, partying

୨ৎ drugdealer!rafe x innocent!reader

— masterlist

you danced the night away at the party at tannyhill that rafe was hosting with your friends as you held a cup of a red beverage, "fruit punch" that was given to you by a couple of rafes friends.

you had been away from him for too long so you stumbled your way through the crowds of drunk people and blinding lights that hung around tannyhill, trying to find your boyfriend, rafe.

you called out his name softly as loud as you could in hopes for his response, "rafey!!" you yelled as you stumbled and your dress started to come up, exposing the bottom of your ass while drops of your drink fell out of your cup.

when you yelled your voice echoed through the house, which ended up catching some of rafes friends attention especially barry. he hit rafes shoulder, getting his attention. "yo, your girl s’callin for you bro" rafe raised his head from the line of cocaine on the table that all of them had been doing.

he saw you stumble through the group of dancing people that stood a couple feet infront; basically pushing them out of the way on your hunt to find rafe. when he saw your doe eyes and pouty lip he knew you had been looking for him, "baby, c'mere" he yelled to you, voice trailing off as he brought one leg out and pat it signaling for you to come sit.

the sound of his voice calling for you made you gravitate towards him, every step you took you felt the cold hard floor ground beneath your bare feet. before the party started, you insisted on wearing your pretty pink heels but rafe told you not since he knew they would hurt your feet and which they did, hence why you walked around barefoot for the rest of the night.

you walked up to him, stumbling, "rafeyy! i missed you" you had said to him all giggly and smiley. as you sat your exposed ass down on rafes leg, he noticed your dress was sliding up so he adjusted it down; keeping you covered up. "well, looks like you've had sum’ fun tonight, baby." he said to you with a chuckle and you giggled at his response.

you noticed the line of white stuff on the table that they had been doing, you pointed at it, "oohh, is that sugar?? i want some!!" you said all excited, basically jumping on rafes leg. he wrapped his arm around your waist, protecting you from falling off so you dont end up hurting yourself. "’right, calm down a bit there, dear."

you had too much to drink of your "fruit punch", which made you really excited, giggly and smiley; doing everything all at once and one after the other. you continued to sit on rafes leg, turning to him and leaning down to wrap your arms around his neck, laying your head on his shoulder. "rafey, i love you" you giggled and smiled softly into his neck. a few moments you mumbled to yourself, and played with the ends of his hair as you started to slowly drift off.

rafe noticed your quietness which showed you were falling asleep so he picked you up, straddling both your legs around his waist for extra support and putting both his hands just beneath your ass. he stood infront of the couch that barry and the rest of his friends sat on, "wrap this shit up and get these people outta’ my house" rafe demanded of barry, and which he did.

he brought you up the stairs, bringing you to his bedroom so you could rest comfortably. he laid you down on the bed, moving his comforter out of the way so he could take off your clothes so you were comfy. he untied the strings that wrapped around your legs from the pink heels and took them off and from there he worked his way up to your dress.

rafe made you sit up as he untied your lacey bow on the back of your dress and brought your dress up over your head and face, taking it off for you. "there we go," he mumbled to himself, giving him the clarification that he got your clothes off so you could sleep comfortable through the night and wouldnt have to worry about it in the morning.

with your dress and heels off finally, he placed the comforter over you and tucked you in. rafe gave you a soft kiss on your forehead, "goodnight, m’princess" he said to you softly. as he started to walk away you opened your eyes and held out your hand, "rafey, please stay with me" you pleaded of him with a pouty lip.

hearing your plead, he turned and came back to you. he placed his hand on yours and kept a tight grip as he sat down on the bed next to you as he waited for you to fall asleep.

[honey-crypt]

alright hi hello me again with fanfiction request ??!! im in angst mood so hear me out

Elliott x farmer, where farmer comes back badly injured like,,, bleeding all over arm probably broken and Elliott freaks out he's just like 'you could have died!!!' and when farmer just laughs it off he just,, breaks down yk n cries for them bc he can't stand the thought of his love dying in the mines one day :((

anyway angst to comfort please 🫡

a/n: i'm not responsible for any emotional damage this fic causes :)

word count: 1.3k

warnings: graphic imagery, blood, elliott has a bit of a breakdown, farmer is really injured

summary: it was just another day in the mines, for you at least. not for elliott, though, as he finds you bloody and battered in the foyer of your home.

★ home is where the heart is - elliott x farmer ★

You staggered towards the farmhouse, as the fireflies and lamps lit your way to safety. High-pitched wheezes clawed their way out of your mouth and you struggled to conceal your heaving, labored breathing when entering the house. The door quickly shut behind you and you let out a sigh of relief. I’m home, I’m home.

The light suddenly switched on in the main room, “(Y/N)?” your husband’s voice called out to you. Shit, you thought to yourself, eye to eye with the redhead. Elliott hugged the sheer night robe close to his skin, his feet adorn with the bunny slippers you got him last month. Despite the pain, you managed to smile through it, “Hiya, hon.”

Elliott nearly fell to his knees at the sight of your bloody, damaged appearance. He walked towards you, legs almost jelly-like in their uncoordinated movement, and kneel before you, “(Y/N), oh (Y/N),” his voice was barely above a whisper, “What happened to you?”

You sniffled and promptly winced from the act, blood gushing backwards into your throat and making you stifle back a gagging sound from the sensation. Your nose was at an unnatural angle and your forehead was caked in a mixture of dry and fresh blood, as you bled the cut on your scalp. 

It was just supposed to be a quick expedition.

The sound of metal clashing against armor echoed through your ears. 

In and out, just in and out.

You sustained the first wound. 

I didn’t think there were gonna be so many. 

Then the next wound.

There were too many.

And the next.

Too many monsters.

And so on until you were battered and bruised, a walking corpse. 

“(Y/N),” your husband’s timid voice called out to you, “(Y/N), my love, what happened to you?” his voice wavered in and out. Every part of you hurt, from your head to your toes. You tried to adjust your position against the wall, but hissed lowly when a sickly ‘crunch!’ echoed from your arm. Shit, probably broken.

“I’m calling Dr. Harvey,” your husband leapt up to his feet and approached the telephone. You watched, as Elliott picked up the phone and dialed the doctor’s after hours number, but another episode of ringing in your ears made it impossible to decipher what he was saying. The vibrations and loud ‘boom!’ of explosive ammunition against slimes repeated in your mind. Probably still got some slime guts on me, too.

And you did, slime stained your shirt and pants in a putrid scent. No biggie, clothes are replaceable. Elliott returned to your side at just the right moment when the ringing subsided, “Darling, please,” he croaked, “What happened to you?”

“Just another day in the mines,” you mustered up a laugh, but the motion made your ribs ache. As gently as he could, Elliott scooped you off the ground and carried up the stairs to your shared bedroom. He carefully let you down on the bed, his robe now stained in slime and blood, and took a seat back to you, “Dr- Dr. Harvey will be here shortly,” the writer hiccuped, eyes glossy. 

“Thanks,” you hummed softly, relaxing into the soft mattress. Elliott turned his body towards you and stared, uncomfortably so. No words were exchanged over the next few minutes, the both of you unable to speak. Finally, Elliott took the initiative and whispered, “You could have died, (Y/N).”

You let out a series of wheezing, delirious laughs at his concern. That was all you could do, laugh. Elliott’s face shattered at the sight of you laughing, “I- I-” his bottom lip quivered. You held up your hand, the one attached to your functional arm, and answered, “Just another day in the mines, not my worst.”

Elliott fell silent and you attempted to fluff up the pillow underneath your head, “Don’t worry, hon. I can-” a sharp cry interrupted you, as your husband unleashed his tears. He hopped off the bed and onto his knees, burying his face into the satin sheets. You could only watch him wordlessly, as Elliott sobbed his heart out. 

“You could have died, (Y/N)! What part of that don’t you understand!?” he removed his face from the bed to yell. You winced at his volume, you never had witnessed Elliott in such a distraught state before. Elliott resumed his cries, “I could have lost you! You’re the- You’re the love of my fucking life and tonight, I could have lost you!”

Your eyes widened in surprise at the curse; Elliott rarely swore, he considered swearing to be a sign of ‘low intelligence’ that ‘one must resort to such profanity to convey a point’. Yet, here he was, cursing up a storm, “Do you not get how your actions impact others? Do you not understand how much you FUCKING mean to me, (Y/N)?!”

A knock on the door cut his rant short, most likely Dr. Harvey. Elliott rose from the floor and exited the bedroom, only to return with Dr. Harvey after a couple of minutes passed. The doctor let out a whistle at your injured form, “Oh, dear,” was all he could say, as Harvey initiated the treatment.

Elliott’s hands gripped onto the nearby vanity mirror while Dr. Harvey fixed you up, a few tears slipping out of his eyes and onto the oak wood. It felt like an eternity went by until the doctor finished up the last of your stitches and cleaned up the mess of bloody clothes and disinfectant, “Visit the clinic tomorrow for more pain medicine,” Harvey informed you before setting the blister pack on the nightstand, “And you’re on bed rest for at least a week.”

“Yes, doc,” you grumbled. Dr. Harvey gave Elliott one last nod and left your house, silence overtaking the atmosphere. You swore that the tense silence hurt more than your injuries, as you awaited Elliott to continue his yelling. 

Instead, your husband entered the en suite bathroom and the sound of water rushing filled the room. He then returned to your side with a cup of tap water in hand and grabbed the blister pack of pain medicine. Quietly, Elliott popped out two pills and held them out to you, “Open up.”

You sat up and opened your mouth, Elliott placed the pills on your tongue and held the water to your lips. With Elliott supporting the glass in one hand and your back in the other, you slowly drank the water and let it wash the pills down your throat; it left a bitter taste in your mouth. Elliott placed the unfinished cup of water next to the blister pack and crawled into bed with you.

“I’m sorry,” you managed to apologize to your husband. He sniffled a bit, the whites of his eyes bloodshot, but gave you a smile, “I love you, (Y/N). I- I don’t know what I would do if you died in such a way.”

“I’m sorry,” was all you could reply with. Elliott wiped away his remaining tears, “I love you. I love you with all my heart and soul,” his words shook with incoming sobs, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” he recited the phrase like a prayer. 

“I love you,” you answered, “I will be more careful, hon.”

“Promise?” your husband looked at you with his wet, puppy-like eyes. 

“I promise,” You reached out to Elliott  and touched his hand. He intertwined his hand with yours and the two of you laid on the bed, basking in the peace of the night. Tonight, you were alive. Tonight, Elliott had you next to him. 

Yet, your backpack laid discarded on the floor by the bed, three or so bottles of squid ink nestled inside. Perhaps, you would gift Elliott those bottles another day.

[toxicanonymity]

Let me stay awake.

7.2k, vampy!Joel x f!reader | vampire masterlist | playlist SUMMARY: Joel tries to take better care of you and plans a date night in. Next time he takes your blood, it feels amazing. WARNINGS: I8+, big girthy age gap (440s to 20s-50s), reader is in captivity, angst, hurt/comfort, dark fluff, POV alternates (twice?), a lot of character dev in the first half, a former blood donor joins the cast, chains, shackles, ankle collar, dry humping, groping, perfectly timed ejaculation. Captivity dubcon. SERIES IMMERSABILITY: Reader can menstruate, be lifted by vampire Joel, and has no allergies.

After Joel took your period, you told him he was doing a bad job taking care of you, which was true. But he did a good job at something. You slept like a baby. He was back with when you woke up. Now he’s sitting next to you on the mattress, back against the wall. Against his thighs, he’s holding a pen on top of a book that looks ancient.  He adjusts his glasses and opens the book. The pages are blank, discolored, and thick. Some have been ripped out. He takes the cap off his pen and asks, “What’d ya have at your old house that we don't have here?” then rests his hand on the page to write. His hand dwarfs the page, and you feel a surge of desire recalling his sounds of pleasure. No, you don’t want him, you tell yourself, as if you didn’t fantasize about him on your way to sleep.

“Freedom,” you answer, and he winces. 

He closes the journal with the pen keeping it partly open, then he turns toward you. “If ya just gimme a chance, sweetheart. . . I'm really gonna do my best. . .” 

When you stay quiet, he says, “Ya know. I think one day, we’ll get there.” 

“Get where?” 

“Outside, out in the world together.”

“Really?” 

He nods. “That walk we took was nice, right?”

“What walk?”

“Through the alley, that first night, when I walked ya to your car?” Right. . .what a gentleman. 

“Yeah, I guess.” Now your mind is drifting back to the way he gently pushed you against the brick wall to kiss you on that walk. Did he already know what he was going to do to you when he first pressed himself against you? 

His eyes are earnest.  “It can be like that again,” he nods.  “Just need a little time.”

You nod. 

He clears his throat, opens the journal, and picks up his pen. “So what do you need?” 

Your stomach twists. Answering would feel like resigning yourself to some dark fate. “I'm not gonna help you keep me prisoner,” you mumble. 

“Prisoner?” He dips his head and his brow furrows. “God, no,” he softly reassures you. He reads your face, then stares into the mattress and swallows.

You rephrase, “Well I’m not gonna help you keep me.” 

He looks you over with pleading eyes.  “I'm gonna go out for a while, okay? Can I get ya anything?”

There are things you need, but you still can’t bring yourself to acknowledge you’re there for the long haul. So you shake your head no. He goes to get the chain from the floor.

“Hate doin’ this,” he mumbles. “‘s’just for now.” He drags the chain over and lifts the sheet to expose your feet. He sees the scrapes and irritation on your ankle. “Shit,” he shakes his head at himself. “Hold on, sweetheart,” he mutters. “Stupid,” he mumbles at himself as he gets up.  He goes upstairs and takes the tray from breakfast with him.  He returns with the same tray. It’s holding a pair of his own wool socks in a fair isle pattern, a paper bag, and a translucent teal bottle full of water. “Lunch,” he says as he sets the tray down next to you. He puts the socks on you, and they're toasty. Then, he puts the cuff on over the sock. “Little better?”

“A little,” you answer. 

“Good,” he whispers. 

— JOEL —

He’s gotta do something about that chain. He’s about to lay down on the sofa to think, but when he moves a decorative pillow out of the way, he feels a rush of shame. “Oh my god,” he whispers. He’s so stupid. How did he not think to give you a pillow? He goes straight to a guest bedroom. The tall, oak door creaks as he opens it. The light from the window nearly blinds him. He blocks it with his forearm as he hurries over to close the heavy curtains.  He sneezes. He picks up an old pillow off the bed and fluffs it. Dust swarms around. There's no way he's giving you that. This whole room has a sad vibe. But he could make you a different room, maybe. His wheels start turning as he goes back downstairs - he has ideas for what room he could use, and what he could do with it. 

He says your name as he descends the final steps. “I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking,” he apologizes as he crosses the room.  He hands you the pillow and assures you he'll get a better one. Then he goes back upstairs.

After a little research, he packs a leather, cross-body bag and checks the weather. “Damnit,” he grumbles to himself.  Cool but no cloud cover. If it were another sunny day, he’d stay home, but this is too important. He puts on a scarf and grabs his parasol from the coat closet and tucks it under his arm as he pulls on his gloves. He’d rather endure the strange looks than come home without the energy to take care of you. 

-

-

Joel’s first stop is an erotic boutique. It's been a long time since he was anywhere like this. The mannequins in mesh bodysuits and strappy leather catch his eye on the way in, and he almost forgets what he came for. He can't help but imagine you wearing some of these things, but he'd rather just see you naked. 

He slowly makes his way through the store. Should he get you a toy? It seems like sexual health would be a basic need. No, he decides. It might make you uncomfortable. He doesn't want to assume, and doesn't want to invade your privacy. Plus, he has to be careful. He doesn’t want you to think this is all just to get him off. He knows how it feels to be fetishized.

“Can I help you?” Someone asks. Joel turns around and squints through his transition lenses at the worker’s face, then their name tag. Craig.  Where does Joel know him from?  Joel stays home a lot, but not as much as one might think. He needs some kind of social contact. 

Craig interrupts Joel’s thoughts, “You’re the one with the mansion, right?”

Joel chuckles. “Uhh, I dunno if–”

“Oh, sorry,” Craig  holds his hand up. “Ya know what? I must be thinking of someone else.” His lie is an unconvincing attempt to allow Joel his anonymity after the slip-up. He probably thinks Joel is in disguise. 

“No, no, it’s okay, man. I was just gonna say. I wouldn’t call it a. . . mansion,” Joel feels stupid as he finishes the sentence. 

“Okay,” Craig concedes with a playful eye roll.  “The house with the Christmas party” 

Oh, God. Joel hadn't even thought about his party. It's gotta be small this year, if it happens. Maybe it would be nice. Joel pictures you in a fancy dress sitting next to him at the table. He imagines having someone to kiss at midnight. 

“New year’s, “ Joel corrects him and sticks out his hand. “Joel.” 

“Right, right.” Craig shakes Joel’s hand and asks, “Friend of the Fishers, right?” 

Joel snaps his finger, “Yes! Right. You're in David's choir.” Another thing Joel forgot. His life has revolved around you ever since you stepped into it.  You're all he thinks about.  Joel starts to apologize, “Look, I dunno if I'm gonna make the Christmas concert this year, it snuck up on me.”

“It's okay, it's okay,” Craig reassures him with a wave of his hand. “Can I help ya find anything?” 

“Yeah, uh, it said online y’all have some cuffs and chains and stuff?”

“Oh yeah,” Craig nods. “Come with me.” He guides Joel to a back wall covered in all sorts of contraptions. “Looking for anything in particular?” 

“Yeah, something really comfortable and secure.”

–

As Craig rings up Joel’s purchase, Joel silently worries if this is going to work. 

“Want me to show ya how the lock works?” Craig asks. 

 “Uhh, sure,” Joel says. 

Craig takes the leather cuff out of the package and demonstrates the metal lock. He dangles the two keys. “One for you, and one for them,” he smiles. 

“And both cuffs have the same key?”

“Yep,” Craig nods. 

The cuff seems comfortable–the inside is suede and there's metal over the leather-–but Joel wonders if it's secure enough. What if you get away and he never sees you again? He looks at the metal loop on the cuff.

“Hey,” Joel asks and scratches his neck. “Y’all don't have any, uh, ID tags or anything do ya?”

“ID tags?” 

“Like the little metal ones that hang on a loop.”

“Ohhh, like for a collar.” Craig raises his eyebrows. 

“Or for this?” Joel asks, holding up a cuff. 

“Cool,” Craig nods as if Joel is an innovator.  “Gimme one sec.” 

Craig goes out to a nearby shelf and comes back with a few collars that have their own tag – mostly hearts, either blank or with something generic like princess. “This is all we got.”

“Y’all do engraving here?” Joel asks. 

“No. . .But if ya only need the tag, and it's gotta be engraved, I can tell ya where to go.”

–

When Joel is done with his next stop, he opens his leather bag and slips the metal tag into a zippered pocket. Damn, he thinks.  He doesn't even know your favorite color. He hopes you’re okay with a black heart. Certainly better than a bone shape. He starts his car and heads toward the library. 

-

When Joel walks into the library, he politely nods at the information desk, then heads to the computers. He sits down at one in the back row. He takes his gloves off, pulls his journal and a pen out of his bag, then logs onto the computer. He searches the catalog and the internet. What do you need? Food, water, shelter, this all seems obvious. What do you want? Freedom, he can hear you saying it. How much can he give you? How can he make you stay? How can he make you understand how much he cares? He retrieves a book and opens his journal to make some notes.

-

Joel puts down his pen, looks over his notes, then takes off his glasses, and rubs his eyes. He wishes you’d talk to him. What do you really want? 

He whispers your name out loud. “God I wanna make you happy.” He closes his eyes and rubs his temples. He has a headache. The sun is catching up with him. He shouldn’t have gone out today. He should go home. When he opens his eyes, he puts his glasses back on. Someone is approaching. He swiftly locks the computer screen and closes his notebook. 

“Joel.” It’s a kind, grandmotherly voice.

“Carol,” Joel smiles, and leans back as casually as he can. 

“You alright there?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Joel nods, trying not to wince. She looks at the empty computer screen and closed notebook. 

“Okay, well, you know where to find me, dear.” 

“Great sweater, by the way,” Joel tells her. “Perfect color. Really makes your eyes pop.”  

“Oh, Joel,” she coyly pats down her white curls. “Thank you, dear--OH, Christy asked if you came in. Do you want me to get her?” 

Joel didn’t even think about her on his way in. He feels a twinge of guilt for silencing her call, ignoring her text. 

“Joel?” Carol asks, looking concerned. 

He snaps out of it and feigns a little smile. “Uh, no. No, thank you. Don't bother her.”

“Okay,” Carol says in a sing-song voice. “I'll leave you to it then.” She smiles and walks away. 

–

So she was expecting him. Oh, shit - he thinks through his mental calendar - Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. Warmth rises to his cheeks. It’s been so long since he’s felt his cheeks get warm. It must be something in your blood.  Not only has Joel taken blood from Christy, but she’s been his wingman before. They'd go out somewhere, and he'd listen to her drone on and on–she never took a breath–about  her armchair detective community. 

She’s always been a little too into the whole situation. If Joel thanked her for her help, she’d beam, “Any time.” She wasn't with him the night he met you. He wasn't on the hunt. But you smelled special, and he couldn't physically resist. 

Joel hears Christy greet someone. He can't dodge her, he just has to hope she walks on by.  He picks up his leather bag and puts it in his lap. He rifles through it until he finds a stick of menthol balm. 

“There he is,” Christy calls. 

Too late. He stuffs the menthol back in his bag without using it. He looks up, and she’s paused in the middle of the library with one hand on her hip and her eyes wide, even wider than usual.  

“Hey, Chris.” 

She hurries over. “So you are alive,” she teases with her arms crossed, then tilts her head, widens her eyes, and whispers, “figuratively speaking.” She laughs at her own joke. 

She knows as much about him as anyone alive. It's made a big difference having a friend who knows. This has been one of Joel’s better eras, but the era he’s moving into with you will be lightyears better. And it’ll be more than an era. 

“Kinda late,” she cringes lightheartedly. 

“Oh, no, no, none for me. I’m good, thanks. Sorry, I’ve uh – I’ve gotta go.” 

He stands up and puts his bag on.  She’s gonna know something’s up. He scratches the back of his neck, weighing whether to break down and tell her everything so she can help him know how to make you comfortable and happy. Plus, he just wants to talk about you. He wants to tell the world. But today he has one priority: taking care of you. 

“Waait a second,” Christy says knowingly, studying his face. “You’re glowing. You just got some good stuff, didn't ya?” She playfully punches Joel’s arm.  “Good for you,” she beams, then raises her eyebrows and lowers her voice. “Bet it was menstrual, O positive.”

“The blood type doesn't–”

“--You say that, but if you’d let me do my experiment. . .Oh! We’ve got some new microfilm downstairs. 1880s, if you can believe it.” 

“Not today,” Joel replies a little too quickly if he doesn’t want her prying.  

Her lips form a line and her eyebrows go up, then she shrugs it off. “Okay, mister. Hey, can you still take care of Cal next weekend? Nat and I are–”

“--Uh, yeah,” Joel starts to walk off. “If you can drop her off.” You might enjoy the cat’s company.

“Joel!” Christy calls after him. “Don’t forget this!” She’s holding his parasol. 

–

Next, Joel stops by the hardware store to get some supplies to secure you more comfortably. He’s sure he’s forgetting something, but this is a good start, and there’s always delivery. He doesn’t want to leave the house again this week. Thankfully, the hardware store is next to a Walmart, which has groceries, clothes, and pillows. He gets you some loungewear, socks, and new bedding. It’s the least he can do.

—--

When Joel gets home, he brings you four different pillows and some bedding. 

“Wasn’t sure what firmness.” 

He unlocks you and shows you the socks and lounge clothes. “These looked comfortable. Here, I can help. . .”

“I can do it,” you tell him. 

“Right.”  He turns around. While you’re changing, he says, “Let's order in tonight. Too tired to get anything started.”  

“I’m not hungry yet,” you tell him.

Then he shows you the new cuffs and chain. He rings the heart shaped tag onto one cuff, then puts it around your ankle. “Better?”

The chain is much lighter.  “Yeah, I guess,” you admit. “What’s this?” You look at the tag. 

“Oh I dunno, I just–I started worryin’.” 

You stare at him blankly. 

“I dunno, just in case.” 

“In case what?”

He swallows. “If ya. .” He looks around. He doesn't wanna say it out loud.  “If ya left. . . so ya could . . . I dunno, get back.”

Now there’s a hint of pity and bewilderment in your eyes. 

“It was stupid, sorry.” He takes a deep breath and manages a small smile. “Alright, sweetheart. I’ll be right upstairs.” 

-

When he gets upstairs, he looks at his phone and has a message from Christy. His stomach drops when the picture loads. It’s his search history about taking care of adult human women and what makes them stay.

“God damnit,” he curses himself. Of course he didn’t clear his search history. He didn’t even log off. She's typing. She stops, then starts again, and he presses the heels of his palms into his temples. What now? Should he call her? She wouldn't tell anyone, but – Her message comes through with a woosh: “this is what librarians are for.”

“Ha," he scoffs with the slightest smile. He shakes his head and turns the screen off without answering.  He should be relieved, but can’t help but worry. He's seen her at her worst. God, he hopes that was her worst.  What does she want?

Another message comes in: “let me help you."

Of course that’s what she wants. Funny enough, he’s seen her at her worst specifically when she was trying to help. But it’s still tempting, because she’s smart and resourceful. She could tell him everything there is to know about you within an hour. He’d love to know what kind of clothes you’d like, your favorite foods, how to make you happy. But for now, he’s doing alright on his own. He doesn’t text back. 

-—You—

A while after Joel goes upstairs, you hear drilling, then clanking, metal jingling, things being dropped. 

Later, he brings you dinner. He doesn’t eat, but he sits with you.  Then, after you’re done, he faces you, cross-legged on the mattress.  He’s wearing his glasses and has his journal again. There are handwritten notes in it. From upside down, you can see the words “buy” and “do.” Some items are crossed through.

“I was thinkin’,” he studies the page, then looks up at you. “Ya might need a bed.” He looks at your face for confirmation.   “Right?” he asks. Wow, he really wants an answer. 

“I mean. . . yeah, I sleep in a bed, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“Okay, I’m workin’ on a room for ya.”

For the next few days, he’s hard at work. 

—----

He comes downstairs one evening around dinner time and says,  “I was thinkin’, maybe we could watch a movie or somethin’.”

“Here?”

“Uh, no sweetheart. I was thinkin’, if ya wanna come upstairs for dinner, then maybe, after that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he smiles.

“Okay.”

He breathes a sigh of relief. “Good. Great.” He goes to the other end of the chain and takes a key out of his pocket to unlock the cuff from the floor.  As he's doing it, he mumbles, “You can, uh, pick the movie. If ya want.” The chain is sliding around on the mattress as he fiddles with the cuff. When the cuff is free from the hook, he puts it around his wrist, then locks it. Your breath hitches. He sees you looking at his wrist. 

“Don't wanna get separated,” he chuckles sheepishly, then puts a hand on your wrist. “Want yours here?” 

“Yeah.” 

He moves the leather cuff from your ankle to your wrist, and it's nice to feel his hands on yours as he fastens it. He smells good. Fresh, woodsy. He opens his palm and takes your hand to help you up. He holds the slack of the chain as the two of you walk upstairs. 

—

It's a large room with high ceilings. It's dark, but cozy. A fire is lit. There are plants, lots of plants. And bookshelves in the walls. He takes you through the main room, to a dining room with a huge table already set for two.  He offers you the head of the table and pulls out the chair for you. He lets the slack of the chain pool between your chairs, and you're both still wearing a cuff on your wrist. 

 You eat mostly in silence, which makes the jingling of the dog tag deafening when you move that hand. He asks where you’d like to travel. You’d love to just travel outside, down the driveway, but you humor him with more ambitious places.

The space is lit with gas candelabras, and it’s hard not to admire his handsome face and the way his eyes sparkle in the candlelight. Sometimes a flicker catches the silver in his beard just right.

After dinner, he takes you back to the main room. There's an oversized sofa with a large, soft blanket draped over it and pillows like the one Joel brought downstairs. There's a big, square ottoman. There's also a side table with two clean, empty wine glasses. The sofa faces the fireplace, which is quite wide, and there’s a screen mounted above it. Joel offers you a glass of wine, and you accept but won’t drink much of it. He starts the movie.

-

Joel puts his arm around you while you watch the film. The chain lightly clinks against itself as he strokes your shoulder, then your arm, and you feel yourself melting. He arranges the pillows and asks if you want to lie down. You do. He spoons you, with his free hand resting over your body. His chained hand is under the pillow, and it finds yours as the movie goes on. Your fingertips brush, and you don’t pull away. Then he fully rests his hand on yours. 

The hand draped over your side gradually begins to wander. He slowly, lightly strokes your side. . .then your hip. . . then your stomach, over your clothes. His breath deepens. His light, meandering touch makes you weak with desire and lulls you half asleep. 

“Thanks for being here,” he whispers. He kisses the nape of your neck. “I know it’s a lot to take in.” He kisses your hair. “But it'll be worth it.” His light touch continues, and you begin to tingle. “Won’t be stuck here forever. . .we’ll travel the world one day.”

His hand travels higher on your body as he moves it in loose circles, until he’s skimming the bottoms of your breasts. His palm grazes the outline of your hard nipple, and a hard shape twitches against your ass. You don’t flinch, but you inhale sharply through your nose, trying to suppress a wave of desire. 

Joel pulls his hips back and tucks the blanket between you, to your secret disappointment. Then he props his head up to admire you. “So many things I wanna do with you,” he murmurs, running his massive hand down your side again where he started. “And for you,” he whispers, draping his hand over your lower belly. Then, barely audible, so quiet you might be imagining it, “and to you.” He puts his head back down on the pillow and inhales your hair, skimming your top with his fingers.

His hand nudges under your lounge top, then his fingertips slip into your waistband ever so slightly, and you’re throbbing.  His fingertips skim your bare belly, dipping a little further into your pants. 

He asks, “You okay from. . .”

Your heart rate quickens. “Yeah, I think so.” 

“I can check,” he quietly offers. “Make sure I got it all.”

“Ok,” you whisper. 

“Good,” he slides his hand down your lounge pants. You’re not wearing underwear. You gasp softly as his fingers reach your clit. He pauses there, and an involuntary push of his hips lets you feel him through the blanket before he pulls back again. His fingertips get lower, then hook between your legs, and he softly gasps when he reaches your wetness. He runs his fingers through your folds, then uses his massive hand to hold the waistband open while he peeks at his fingers. 

“You did,” you whisper. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Shoulda waited, though. I wasn too rough. Shoulda let it happen.” He lets the waistband close over his wrist and cups your  mound.

“You weren’t,” you tell him, closing your eyes, embarrassed at the whole situation. Now he knows how wet you are. 

His middle finger twitches and nudges your clit, then begins nudging it rhythmically. Soon, it evolves toward a more deliberate, pleasure-focused rub, and he inhales deeply, chest expanding against your back. 

“I think I should go to sleep,” you whisper, overwhelmed. His finger stops moving, but his hand stays in your pants.  

Joel offers, “Might sleep better if–” 

“Not tonight.”  You twist your hips away from his, already hating yourself for cutting this off, but knowing you’d judge yourself for continuing. 

He slowly withdraws his hand. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “Somethin’ came over me.” 

On the way downstairs, he tells you again, “I’m workin’ on a room for ya. Just gimme a couple days.” 

He chains you back to the floor, then makes up the mattress with a new set of bedding and a comforter. He tucks you in, and leans over you. He wets his lips, looking at yours. You look away. He kisses you on the cheek, soft and slow. Somehow, it feels just as sensual as if it were your mouth.

“Night, sweetheart.” 

—-

The next evening, your room is finished.  He brings you upstairs and shows you what he’s done. It’s an actual bedroom, with a nice, roomy bed. There’s a reading nook with a big, comfy chair and a wall of books.  It’s dim, of course, but he shows you how to use the dials to remotely adjust the flames of the candelabras and chandelier. There’s a window with a curtain. It has steel bars, but at least it’s there. There’s a closet with clothes and some packages not yet opened.  There’s even a fireplace. 

“And here’s the best part,” he says excitedly, gesticulating in a way that makes the chain between you jingle. He brings you outside the bedroom and closes the double doors. There are two dark panels that create a heart where the doors meet.  “Check it out.” He retrieves a key from his pocket, and locks the door from the outside. It’s a heavy, satisfying click. He looks at you like you’re going to be excited. “So you can take this off,” he explains, holding up the chain. 

-----

You see Joel more often once you’re out of the basement. He’s happy to have you close, and you’re glad to have the accommodations. But you’re also confused, and a little depressed. You crave his presence and his touch in a way you know is unhealthy. You know it must be because he’s all you have right now, but your heart tells you there’s more to it. The whole situation has felt like a dream, and maybe that’s how you’ve coped. But the longer it lasts, the more real it feels.

One night, it catches up with you and you have a good cry. You try to be quiet. You try to stop, but you can’t. So you let it go, you just sob. 

After a while, you hear the heavy lock, and the massive door opens just enough for Joel to come in. He closes it behind him, then stands there rubbing his beard.  He looks at you like he’s lost, then cautiously approaches. 

“Hey,” he whispers. He sits down on the bed. You’re curled up, facing him. You don’t turn away. He strokes your arm, and you cry harder. “Oh, sweetheart.” His eyes are sad. He doesn’t ask what’s wrong. He knows. He lies down, facing you. He hugs you into him and you cry into his soft t-shirt, inhaling his scent with every gasp for air.  “It’s okay,” he whispers. “It’s gonna be okay.” 

You close your eyes, wanting him to kiss you, and you’re disturbed by your own desire.  You pinch your lashes shut harder, and your whole face tenses. It hurts.

“This isn’t okay,” you sob. “It’s not gonna be.” You try to push him away, but he holds you still. After all the times he’s folded, apologized, and backed off, that’s not what he does. He holds you in his arms, making you stay there. “What are you doing,” you whine, and you push at his chest. He doesn’t budge. You half-heartedly hit and kick at him, and he cages you with his leg, too. It soothes you, like a weighted blanket, but you fight it. 

“Shhhh,” he holds you tight. His voice is deep and quiet against the top of your ear. “We’re gonna be happy one day,” he insists. “Promise, sweetheart.” You exhaust yourself crying, and he holds you. “I love you.” You try to ignore it, but that doesn’t stop your heart from fluttering. Soon you’re nuzzling your head into his neck, gripping his shirt in a fist like you don’t want him to go. He drapes a heavy blanket over both of you. He holds you like that until you fall asleep and your fist releases his shirt. He stays a little longer, then kisses you on the forehead and leaves. 

—--

The next afternoon, Joel approaches you and sits down on the edge of the bed. “How ya feel? Ya look good,” he whispers, and cups your cheek. You don’t shrug him off. 

“I’m fine,” you reply, wishing he would lie down with you again, but not wanting to invite him. 

“What do you want for dinner?” he asks. 

“I don't care,” you answer.  

He sits there in silence and places a hand on your knee. 

“Got ya somethin’,” he murmurs, and stands up for a moment. He appears to get nervous as he reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a shallow, velvet jewelry box. He sits down again and holds the box out for you to take, but you don’t. He opens it for you. It’s a necklace. He tells you what the stone is. It’s your birthstone. It’s thoughtful, but he only knows your birthday because he has your wallet. He faces you and puts his hands around your neck as he puts the necklace on, getting his face close to yours so he can see the clasp. With his temple nearly brushing yours, you feel a surge of want. There’s no denying it. The scruff of his cheek scratches you lightly as he finishes fastening the necklace. “There,” he says, and looks at you adoringly.

“Thanks.” 

“You’re one of a kind, ya know.” 

He wets his lips and you notice they’re chapped, dehydrated. He’s pale. You find yourself wanting to hug him, kiss him, but you don’t. He kisses you on the cheek. 

—

One night, Joel makes you a special dinner. He cuffs the two of you together, and you eat in the dining room at the big table with him again. He tells you he needs your blood again. “I don’t have to take much,” he says. “It can be tomorrow,” he offers. “Don’t wanna spring it on ya.” 

“It’s alright,” you tell him. “You need it.” And the truth is, you want it. You want him to take it. You want to be taken back to that moment against your car. You want something that overwhelms your senses and puts you on another plane. You need something to remind you that you aren’t just a girl in a room, and he’s not just some guy keeping you there. If you can physically feel all of that, maybe you can let yourself relax. 

After dinner, he brings you back to your room and unchains you. You sit on the bed. He turns on the fireplace and tells you he’lll be right back. When he returns, he has an old medicine bottle with a cloth. He wets the cloth and says, “I’ll lay with ya, til ya wake up, okay?”

You look at the cloth in his hand and say,  “You don’t have to put me to sleep.” He adjusts the cloth in his hand. “Don’t,” you shake your head. 

His brows knit, and he reads your eyes for a few seconds. 

“Let me stay awake,” you plead. 

“You sure?”

You nod. He closes the bottle again and puts it on your nightstand. 

“Thought it scared ya,” he mumbles. 

“Well it did, when it was a surprise.” 

He nods solemnly. “I’m sorry ‘bout that. I really shoulda. . . I don’t even know.”  If he had asked, you wonder if you would have let him. Surely not, so you can’t exactly blame him. 

-

“Okay,” he looks you over and gets on the bed with you. “You warm enough?” He nudges the cardigan you’re wearing. 

“Yeah,” you nod, and shrug it off. You’re cozy enough from the fire.

“C’mon, let’s get up here.” He guides you up the bed and gets you to lay down with your head on a pillow as if you’re going to sleep. 

He gets close to you, and starts lightly stroking your shoulder as he looks you over. His eyes glue to your neck, and he wets his lips, then he pulls his eyes back to yours. 

“You can choose,” he offers. “Where I take it.” 

You bite your lip as you watch his face and inhale his scent. 

“I can take it here again,” he caresses your neck. Then he holds your arm and lightly brushes his thumb across where you’d normally get an IV, giving you an unexpected surge in arousal.  “Or here.” 

He checks your face, then lays his hand on your waist. His palm skims your side, down your hip. “Or,” he runs his hand up your thigh under your dress. His thumb caresses your thigh, right near your pelvis, and he whispers, “I can take it here.” You’re nearly overwhelmed with desire already. 

“I dunno,” you whisper. 

He gently rolls you onto your back. He takes a deep breath, scoots down the bed, and gets between your thighs. He nuzzles your inner thigh with his nose, then whispers, "up to you, sweetheart."  You're throbbing.

“Tell me what feels right,” he murmurs and nuzzles your inner thigh with his nose.  His hair is fluffy and his eyes are dark and sparkly as he looks up at you. “God, you’re . . .” He reaches up and wraps a hand around your arm. “You’re perfect.” 

“Where do you want?” you ask. 

“Everywhere, anywhere. I want every inch of you.” 

You allow yourself a little smile and hold his eyes for a few seconds. 

He sits up again and offers, “I can make ya feel good.”

“I know,” you nod with a laugh.

“I mean, it’ll feel best, if you’re already feelin’ good.” 

You nod with butterflies in your tummy, telling yourself it’s for a practical purpose, and you might as well enjoy it. 

He nods and whispers, “Okay. . .good.” His eyes rove your body hungrily. He asks, “Anywhere ya don’t want me to touch ya?”

You say "no" so fast your cheeks heat in shame.

His eyes darken and he growls, “good,” as he prowls back up your body.  His triceps swell out from under his shirt.

He kisses you tenderly below your jaw and brings a hand to your breast.  You lift your chin with a sigh. He drags his lips and nose down your throat to your chest, pausing at your neckline. He looks up and you nod. He nudges the fabric aside with his nose, then plants a wet kiss on the swell of your breast, and his eyes close. He moans into your skin. Your gaze fixates on his softwash khakis, and he briefly removes his hand from your chest to adjust himself. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“s’okay,” you whisper.

“‘Sposed to be about you right now,” he murmurs, looking up at you. You tilt your head, trying to look at his pants, but the room is too dim. Truth is, you’re finding it hard to think about anything but his cock at the moment. You only felt the briefest hint of it the other night. You want to feel it all.

He slides his hand up your thigh again, and his thumb nudges just slightly under the crotch of your panties, making you twitch. He takes a deep breath through his nose, then withdraws his thumb and lets down the edge of your panties. He scoots up to lie to your side again, leaving his knee between your legs. He rests his hand on your mound, and slowly ghosts your clit, closing his eyes.  When he opens his eyes again, they sparkle, and his face drifts toward yours.  You don’t flinch, you don’t pull away. You let him kiss you.

With one hand still between your legs, he slides the other one under your head. He kisses you slow and deep, stroking your most sensitive spot through your panties.  Your mouths remain connected as his massive hand slides up to your bare abdomen. He gives your side a little squeeze before sliding back down and nudging his fingers under the hem of your underwear. He pulls his lips from yours and looks at you darkly. It’s not a question, but you nod as his hand slides down.  You gasp and his knuckles strain the fabric as he cups your naked heat.  “Good,” he whispers when he feels how wet you are.  “What if ya just. . .” he kisses you again, then murmurs,  “let your body decide." He plants a soft, open mouth kiss on your cheek, then whispers in your ear, "I'll go everywhere. You tell me when.”

You wrap your wrists around his neck and he catches your inner arm with his mouth. He wetly kisses the inner crook of your elbow, looking up at you. Then he drags his lips down toward your chest, where he pulls your dress down. Your skin hardens with goosebumps as your nipples sharpen, and he groans softly. He kisses your bare breast, then fixes your dress, and kisses your hard nipple through the thin cotton. You arch your back and sigh. He gets between your legs and backs up as he kisses his way down your torso. He lifts your dress and thumbs your panties, sighing “oh, God.” 

He lifts one of your knees over his shoulder and kisses at your cunt through the damp fabric.  Your hips lift into his mouth. He licks along the edge of the crotch, then your inner thigh. He leaves a meandering trail of kisses around your inner thigh, then plants his lips and leaves a hickey. He glances up at you and adjusts himself again, and you let out a little moan.  “C’mere,” You nudge him, pulling at his arms, wanting nothing more than him on top of you. 

He prowls up your body and plants his hands on either side of your chest.  Lays his hips into yours, and when the shape of his warm, hard package presses into your most sensitive place, you gasp and he lets out a low moan. “Should I take-” he asks, reaching for his belt.  You’re nodding before he finishes the question. He uses his left hand to unbuckle his belt. “Sorry,” he mumbles as he pulls away from you enough to take his pants off. Now he’s in long johns, and it’s quite a bulge you’re looking at. Your face and chest burn. You pull him toward you with your feet. He presses his throbbing arousal against your aching heat, and you moan. You card your fingers through his hair. “Feel so good,” you whisper. 

“Good,” he whispers, then kisses your neck again.  

He puts his hand on your thigh and you wrap your leg around him. He lightly grinds into you as he kisses your neck, then your cheek, then your lips again. Your mouths open and draw each other in. You breathe each other’s air and drink each other’s spit. Your lips tingle. Your chest tingles. As you kiss harder, he grinds harder against you. You badly want him inside you, but  you won’t, you can’t, you shouldn’t, you tell yourself. 

The next time his mouth comes to your neck, he teases you with his tongue and a bolt of pleasure shoots down  your spine. Your nipples harden.  He opens his mouth wider against your skin. “Do it,” you whisper, then feel the prick of his fangs against your flesh. “Do it,” you repeat, and his arousal swells against you as he sinks his teeth into your skin. Your hips lift against his. He moans into your neck, and as your blood flows into him, he gets harder. You shudder in pleasure as he takes what he needs. You move his hand from your thigh to your breast, and you lift your pelvis into his, whispering, “yeah.” You’re not lightheaded, not yet. He’s doing this slowly, pacing himself. 

His warmer, harder cock twitches against you, and you reach down to grope it desperately. He groans. You grind up against him and moan, “Joel,” with a surge of need overtaking you. He ruts against you slow and hard, warm and stiff, then his cock pulses right against your clit. He groans into your neck, and you grind back against him, and the whole front of you begins to pulse with him. “Oh God,” you gasp and grab his ass, pulling him against you harder as the warmth of his cum seeps through the thermal fabric, “oh fuck,” you sigh as you cum with him. 

As you finish convulsing, his fangs release you. His breath is humid against your neck. “Fuck, i’m sorry,” he mutters. He leans his cheek against your shoulder, and you can feel how warm his face is. 

“Don’t be,” you whisper. “That felt really good.” He pulls back and looks at you, cheeks blotchy. 

“Really?” he asks. He cups and adjusts his manhood through his damp bottoms. “I never. . .”

“I know,” you reassure him. “It’s my blood, isn’t it?”

He nods with his eyes half closed. “It’s incredible.” 

You nod. “It was good for me too,” you admit. 

“I could feel it,” he puts a hand on your panties.  He sighs and lays half on top of you. He strokes your face. “Can I do somethin’ for ya?”

You shake your head no. “I’m good.” 

He caresses your neck. “I’ll get ya some ice.”

“No,” your hand comes to his back, and you don’t let him leave. “Just stay right here.” 

You lay in silence with him half on top of you. Then he props himself up to look at you. 

“We're made for each other,” he whispers, looking at your mouth. He kisses you softly, then meets your eyes. “You don’t believe it yet.  It’s okay.” 

“It’s not that I don’t-”

“It’s okay. Don’t have to,” he reassures you. He rests his head close to yours on the same pillow, and nuzzles his nose against yours. “Just hope ya feel it one day,” he murmurs into your cheek. “I know ya will.” 

You feel it. You disagree, you think, but you feel the truth in it. 

He puts his arm all the way over you. His arm is solid, and you imagine very heavy, but it's not dead weight. It's tense, like he's actively holding you there, just in case. 

—----

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His parasol was inspired by @gasolinerainbowpuddles mood board. 

Thank you so much for love for vampire!Joel and your patience for his story to continue.

I hear you about notifs not working, and tags too (i'm not receiving a lot of my tags either). consider checking my fic notifs blog @toxicfics or the "latest fics" link on my profile header once in a while to see what you might have missed.

[hotteoki]

getting into an argument with skz (hyung line)

warnings: slamming doors (does that count as violence?), lots of swearing, regular angst, fluff-ish making up at the end

notes: i was feeling like some angst except i haven't written it in a long time so uh it's a bit shit el oh el + idk if i want to write maknae line cause i wouldn't even know how to write for felix LIKE THAT MAN IS AN ANGEL

©️ strayedstars | do not repost

chan (방찬)

chan was stressed, it was obvious to anyone. he didn't get angry often, nor does he get upset with people easily, but the deadlines and pressure had been getting to him lately. you did everything you could to help him, from making his favourite food every day to taking him out for dinner, and he made sure to let you know how grateful he was for those.

today, however, when chan stepped through the door, you hadn't noticed how he seemed more closed off when you asked how his day was, or how he didn't give you any form of greeting. it was when you stood up from your seated position on the couch, did you feel the tension radiating off of him. you approached him cautiously, fearing that if you said the wrong things, it would aggravate him even more.

worried, you placed a gentle hand on his arm, "chan, is everything okay-" he pushed your hand off immediately, replying with a short 'i'm fine.' "are you sure? you know you can always talk to-" he inhaled deeply, "oh my fucking- yes i'm sure. i clearly don't want to fucking talk to you, so why are you still pressing me? it's like you just don't fucking listen to me. you’re so damn clingy sometimes." there was a deathly silence. you could tell he didn't mean for his words to come out so harshly, but it hurt all the same.

chan, seemingly in disbelief by his own words as much as you, opened his mouth to apologise, but closed it. you weren’t even sure what hurt you more; the fact that he yelled at you, or that he couldn’t even be bothered to apologise. "what the fuck," you whispered out. still processing his words, you wordlessly made your way to the bedroom and closed the door, hurt and slightly embarrassed. you heard his callings of your name, but you ignored them, just wanting to give him, and yourself, some space. never would you have thought your own boyfriend would be the one to make you cry.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

you stirred awake. mind still fuzzy, you tried to remember what happened before you went to sleep. right. chan. you sat up, now slightly more awake. looking down, you were confused at the fact that you were holding your wolf chan plushie you lost a while back, and you definitely would not have had time to charge your phone, so what- oh.

squinting your eyes, you finally acknowledged chan sitting by the edge of the bed, his slouched back facing you. had you forgotten to lock the door? contemplating whether you should go up to him or not, you knew the two of you had to talk about it sooner or later. switching on the bedside light and crawling over until you were side to side with him, you sat with your legs crossed, your warm hands wrapped around your ankles.

you turned your head to look at him, stifling your laughter. chan had fallen asleep while sitting down, presumably thinking about the situation. shaking him awake, he blinked his eyes slowly, adjusting to the dim light from behind the two of you. you weren't sure if it was because of the witching hour, or because you simply weren't mad at him at all, but you found yourself leaning your head against his shoulder.

"i'm so sorry, angel," chan breathed out, voice shaky. "i know," you responded simply. "no, you don't get it," he stood, only to kneel down on the cold bedroom floor in front of you. he reached for your hands, rubbing circles soothingly over the back of your hand, "i'm so, so, sorry. i was in a bad mood, and i took it out on you, and you didn't deserve a second of it. i'm so incredibly sorry."

chan's head dipped down, and you could faintly see his teardrops staining his joggers. "chan," you called his name gently. his bloodshot eyes looked up to meet yours. you freed one of your hands from his grasp to place on his wet cheeks, smiling at how he instinctively leaned into your touch, "it's okay. i forgive you." he but only sobbed more, "i don't deserve you."

you knew that right now, no matter what you say, he would never forgive himself, so you opted to guide him back on his feet, leading him under the warm duvets, "let's just sleep for now, okay? we'll talk more tomorrow."

minho (민호)

minho was trying really hard to be patient with you. he really was, but you kept forgetting which brand of treats were soonie's favourite, or which pet dish is doongie's, or where to place dori's favourite toys, and it was getting on his nerves. he knew you weren't doing this on purpose, you had a lot on your mind, but, really, was it that hard to remember a few extra things?

it was the fourth time in the past week that you've asked him if the cats have had their dinner yet. minho had already had a rough day at work, with the others being uncoordinated and him losing his phone, and your 'hey min, they've had dinner already, right?' made him snap.

he felt a hot wave of anger wash over him, without meaning to, he began spatting words out, "yes, they've had their dinner. we have a schedule for their meals, what part of a schedule do you not understand? if you could just use your head for once, maybe you'll fucking remember something!" in the heat of the moment, you retorted, crossing your arms, "i could say the same to you! you never put your shit together, your clothes are always on the floor, i always have to clean up for you! maybe for once, you should be the one using your head!"

minho groaned, running a hand through his messy hair, "give me a fucking break, will you? you're so exasperating." swallowing thickly, you managed out, "fine, you want a fucking break? have a fucking break." making your way to your bedroom, him following along, refusing to let you walk away. you went straight into the room, slamming the door shut in his face and locking it. "fine! have it your way!" minho yelled, hitting his fist against the door once, storming out the house.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

it had been exactly 3 hours and 28 minutes since the fight. minho knew only because he kept checking his phone every 2 minutes to see if there were any notifications from you. he wasn't even sure why he was checking in the first place, he should be the one apologising, not you.

pocketing his phone, he stood up from his seat on the bench in a nearby park. slowly but surely, minho made his way back, only praying that you were still there. rummaging for his keys in front of the door, his heart all but stung more at the heart keychain with both of your names on it along with your anniversary.

creaking the door open, minho's heart dropped at the silence that greeted him. he called out your name once, then twice. practically running up to your shared bedroom, he rattled the doorknob. still locked. his heart pounded over fear that something had happened to you.

holding back to the urge to cry in frustration, minho began rapidly banging on the door, "please, please, please, open up the door!" the door finally cracked open, your tired, red-rimmed eyes blinking hazily up at him. "you're okay? you're okay!" minho pushed the door open all the way, examining your body all around before pulling you close to his chest, wrapping his arms around you securely.

"why didn't you answer?!" he nearly yelled. you, still bleary, rubbed your eyes, "i was sleeping. w-why are you here? i thought you left?" minho almost burst into tears right then and there, burying his face in your hair, "oh love, i'm never ever leaving you again. i'm so fucking sorry. i'm so, so, so, fucking sorry. i promise you, i'll do so much better."

changbin (창빈)

you knew the pain in changbin's right leg from an injury at the gym had been irritating him for the past few weeks, rendering him barely able to do anything without wanting to scream in frustration. you had been helping him a lot, from carrying his bags to picking up things when he had dropped them.

you made sure changbin was as comfortable as he could be, especially considering how moody he was acting the entire day. he had refused to leave the bed, which was extremely unlike him. normally, even if he was in a horrible mood, he would still get up and go about his day, claiming that if he didn't, he would be 'wasting the precious moments of life'.

you knocked on the bedroom door gingerly before opening it up a crack, not sure if he was awake or not. changbin was sat up straight, leaning against the headboard, scrolling on his phone. smiling, slightly relieved you hadn't disturbed his sleep, you opened the door full, "hey binnie, how are you feel-" "oh my- i'm okay, leave me alone. you don't have to keep babying me 24/7, it's so irritating." with a final look, his eyes turned back to his phone, ignoring your presence. to say you were shocked at his outburst was an understatement.

"are you serious?" you raised an eyebrow, "i have been taking care of you all week and this is how you thank me?" scoffing, he continued to avoid your glare, "i didn't ask you to." realising that he wasn’t going to apologise any time soon, you cast aside your surprise, honestly wanting to leave as quickly as you could. pursing your lips, you set the glass of water you had been holding on the bedside drawer along with a new charger that he had been complaining for, and left the room promptly. you could only hope changbin would reflect on his words.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

it was only minutes later when changbin called out your name once from the bedroom. you paused the movie playing on the television, contemplating whether you should ignore him or not. you were just about to pick up the remote again when you heard a loud thud.

without hesitating, you ran up to the bedroom, opening the door. changbin sat on the floor, clutching his leg, wincing at the pain. "what the hell did you do?" he remained silent. you immediately hoisted him back up to sit by the edge of the bed, kneeling in front to check for any bruises. sure enough, a purple spot was beginning to form on his shin.

sighing, you sat next to him on the bed, waiting for his answer. changbin sniffed, "i was trying to get up and go apologise to you, but i fell off the bed." giving him a small smile, you rubbed his thigh comfortingly. you weren't exactly sure how to respond.

sucking in a deep breathe, changbin began, "i'm really sorry for, you know, what i said earlier. i was being ungrateful, and i'm genuinely so sorry. i don't know what came over me, i just-" he was rushing his words. you rubbed his back, "no, i get it. i know you'd never hurt anyone intentionally." changbin couldn't meet your eyes. "but it still hurt me a lot."

he instantly locked his eyes with yours, "and i promise i will do anything in this world to make it up to you." he held out his pinky. you laughed, linking your pinky with his and pressing your thumbs together. "you can't break it now," you teased. "i won't." that was one of the most genuine things you'd ever heard changbin say.

hyunjin (현진)

hyunjin was experiencing an artist block. this didn't happen often, but when it did, it stuck for a long time; everything he drew looked wrong, it was either the shadows were in the wrong place, or the colour looked a little off, or the entire thing was just not what he pictured in general. letting out a groan, he rubbed his face was his free hand, feeling a headache coming along.

slamming his paintbrush down on the canvas stand, he glared at the blank sheet, like something would magically appear and would cure his annoyance. "hey hyunnie, i'm home!" your voice echoed around the house, and for once, it pissed him off. how are you so carefree and happy while he had to suffer? hyunjin got up from his stool and went to greet you, deciding that you at least deserved one.

"oh hey hyunnie, here's the drink that you've been wanting!" you fished something out of the bag. it was the wrong one. it wasn't the one hyunjin wanted. already irritated, his words came out without him even noticing, "how many times do i have to tell you it's not this one? if you really knew which drink is the one i want, you’d open your eyes and realise it’s not this one. either way, there's a reason why i didn't buy it, do you know how expensive it is?"

before you could interject, he continued on, not able to control what he was saying, "no, of course you don't. you just live in your own little carefree life, right? everything gets done for you, you never have to worry about anything, right?" word vomit. those last comments infuriated you, "carefree? carefree? hyunjin you have no idea how hard i had been working for the past few days! i have a job too, you know? news flash, you're not the only special one!"

hyunjin's heart ached. he never thought about what you might be going through. "yeah, no, if i'm such a bother because of the way i live my life, then maybe i should leave for a bit," you sighed, leaving the kitchen and to the bedroom. hyunjin couldn't even describe the guilt in his chest as he watched you leave.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

hyunjin sat outside the bedroom, waiting for you to come out, but also because he was scared. scared that you hated him now. scared that you won't forgive him. scared that you decided that maybe this relationship wasn't worth-

the sound of the door opening cut off his train of thoughts. you peeked out from behind the door, looking down cautiously at him, "what are you doing on the floor?" "i- i just- i don't know," hyunjin sighed, shielding his face away from you. he didn't want you to see him cry.

"hey, hey," you slid down next to him, legs tucked underneath. you reached to hold his wrist, pulling his hand away from his face. his glassy eyes met yours, "i mess everything up." with those words, he broke down. "oh, darling," you pulled him close and held him to your chest, "no you don't." "but i do," he stifled another sob, "i can't draw at all and i yelled at you and now you hate me-" "who said i hated you?" you ran your fingers through his hair.

his body relaxed, and hyunjin found himself leaning into your hold subconsciously. "couples have fights every now and then, and that's normal, hyunnie. and yes, you did yell at me, but so did i. as for your paintings, i'm sure you just need some motivation, and i'll help you find it." he pulled himself away slightly, tilting up to meet your forgiving smile. you'd never looked more beautiful in his eyes. "you. i want to paint you."

for @minvho @hyunverse @felixore @alyszaen and them only

[justastraymoa]

Unwilling Alpha

Chapter 8

The reveal pt 1

Warnings ⚠️ swears, abo dynamics, mentions of slave trade, mentions of rape, mentions of abuse, mentions of death, fear, manipulation.

Nothing within reflects anyone or anything irl. Pics off pinterest.

🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱

~

I took a few minutes to get ready.  Make my hair presentable, double check the sweater sat right, perfectly framing the soul marks I was meant to show off.

Then I sat my camera up, facing the blank wall I was going to use as a backdrop in leu of actually having my usual backdrops.  I adjusted the lighting using the bedside lamps to give my skin a soft warm sunset glow in the pictures.  Giving the whole picture a soft vibe.

I had a remote clicker for my camera that I mainly used when dealing with children, but it worked with this too.  I sat cross legged facing the wall, trying to envision good poses I would usually instruct my subjects into if I were just taking photos at the studio.

Even though the sweater was high necked in the front and long sleeved, I still felt exposed with it being backless.  My face flamed red every time I shifted into a slightly different pose.  I couldn’t actually see how the poses were working without moving to look after every photo, so instead I opted to try a bunch of poses.  This also meant that each Omega could choose their own favorite pose and photo, and they would all be matchy matchy with their posts.

Ten minutes and 27 photos later I was done.  Hopefully I got at least 8 good photos in there somewhere.  There was no way I was going to do this again if there wasn’t.  This would be a moment I look back on and still get embarrassed after 5 years.

I threw on a sweatshirt and grabbed the stuff to edit the photos on the TV again.  The boys seemed to enjoy watching me edit the photos last time, and they could choose their photo at the same time.  Plus, the big screen made the editing so much easier.

When I opened the door, I nearly jumped out of my skin.  All 8 Omegas were standing in the simply lit hall outside my door.  “What in the actual fuck are you doing?”  I gasped holding my chest.  My heart was racing out of my chest.

“You were taking a long time.”  Hyunjin explained completely unapologetic to taking years off my lifespan.

“So, you decided giving me a heart attack was the best thing to get me to hurry?”

There was a series of shrugs from them, and I rolled my eyes so hard it actually hurt.  “Get in the living room!”  I snapped waving my hand at them.

“I made you some chicken.  You can eat it while we look at your pictures.”  Lee Know said, handing me a bowl as we settled back in the living room.

“Thank you, Lee Know.”  I smiled at him gratefully.  I sat back and ate a piece.  It was melt in your mouth good-as usual.  The food is another thing I had missed, though not nearly as much.  It was so different here than at home – or my previous home I should say.

“Holy shit!  Y/n!  What the fuck?”  Seungmin exclaimed when the first picture loaded.

Chan whistled.  “This is borderline indecent!”

“Well, I needed to show the marks!  They go down most of my spine!”  I defended myself feeling self-conscious.

The picture in question wasn’t even close to indecent.  I had one arm across my body and softly placed over my ribs and my head was slightly tilted back and turned toward the camera, but not enough so that you could see my face.  Surprisingly, I kind of liked it.  Turned out better than I expected.

“You’re sure you’re not a model?”  Changbin asked.

I felt my cheeks start to warm.  “Shuddup guys!  I just know how to pose people.  It was part of my job!”

“Y/N, I don’t say this lightly, but you are a natural model.  You make it look effortless.”  Hyunjin praised as they flipped through more photos.

“Thank you.”  I responded blushing deeper and clearing my throat.

The next several hours were spent choosing photos and then editing them.  They each captioned the photo ‘Stray Kids found their Alpha!’ and posted their photos at the same time.

I again made sure to like each one.

Then we sat back and watched STAY and netizens go absolutely berserk.  It was kind of entertaining to watch how unhinged they all got.  And STAY was pretty much throwing a worldwide party to celebrate the news.

STAYs jealousy and dislike for change was overshadowed by the fact that Stray Kids was not being forced to disband – for now.  Some even claimed that waiting until the eleventh hour was very on brand for Stray Kids, but I didn’t see it.

The rumor mill started working overtime almost immediately.  There was a rather large faction that believed their Alpha was another idol and that’s why it took so long to bond.  They had to negotiate and adjust all the contracts accordingly.

Another rumor with a lot of believers was that they found their Alpha in the slave and sex trade ring.  They concluded that it took so long because they had to find a way to free the Alpha.  Some said they bought them, some said they snuck them out and helped them escape.  The most generous one was that they worked with the authorities to bring the ring down.  A handful of fanfictions were inspired by that last one.

Their attacks and hate on me wouldn’t start until the euphoria of Stray Kids staying wore off.  Maybe, if I was lucky, a couple weeks.  At the very least until I was revealed.  And then I could only hope their disappointment over the true story being revealed wouldn’t start a revolt.  Netizens could be very cruel.

“Well, we only have until tomorrow until we announce our mini tour.  So, enjoy the last of your relaxation.”  Chan announced with a sigh.

I perked up.  “A mini tour?”  I had never even been to a concert.  Too broke to go to a location they were at.  Too broke for a ticket at all, actually.

“It’s a surprise for STAY.  A kind of celebration that we are back.”  Han explained.

“But you didn’t know if you’d be back.”  Did they somehow know I would come back?  How?  I didn’t even know.

“We planned the tour when we first went on hiatus, under the assumption that we would be back.”  Chan shrugged.

“The power of positive thinking?”

“Hey, it worked.”

I snorted but couldn’t deny it.  I have always believed in positive thinking, this just felt more like a miracle.

“So, lots of practice then.”  Lee Know said in confirmation sounding a little relieved.

“Finally!”  Hyunjin cheered.

I smiled.  It was good to see them so excited about getting back to work.  They were all so passionate about what they do – their craft, if you will.  They truly loved what they did.  And put their everything into what they created and put out into the world.

“Cool.  Then while you are practicing, I’m going to go home a-!”  I was interrupted when Seungmin tackled me suddenly.  He maneuvered so he took the brunt of the hit when we landed on the floor.

Several voices cried out our names at once and I blinked up into Seungmins terrified eyes before they disappeared.  He hugged me tightly, fingers clutching at the hoodie I was wearing.

There was some chaos as the others alternated between yelling at Seungmin and fussing over me.  However, I clearly heard Seungmin when he spoke in my ear.  “You can’t leave us again.”

Realizing what happened I wrapped my arms around him and ran my hands up and down his spine once before gripping the back of his neck, right over his mark.  His body immediately relaxed on top of me, but he still didn’t let go.

“Shh, my Omega.  I’m not leaving forever.  I need to pack up my things and wrap up my old life.  Then I’ll be back.”  I promised lowly, keeping my hand on his mark.  “A week tops.”

He shook his head.  “Too long.”

“The sooner I get there, the sooner I can get back.”

The others managed to get us into a sort of sitting position, but Seungmin refused to let go.  “You can’t leave!  You can’t leave again!”

Giving up, Chan sat next to us.  “We can hire people to pack up your things and whatever.”

“There, see.  Now I don’t have to go.”  I whispered to Seungmin giving his neck a gently squeeze.

Slowly, in small increments, Seungmin eased his grip and released me, looking embarrassed and slightly glassy eyed.  “It’s okay, Seungmin.”  I soothed reaching out to smooth his hair from his face.

“He could have been gentler.”  Lee Know pointed out, annoyed.  He stood nearby; arms crossed.

“He protected me from the fall.  And I should have gone about announcing that differently since everything is still so fresh.”

“It’s just…letting you out of our sight is going to be hard for a while.”  Chan explained.

“Try impossible.  She leaves the room and I get anxious!”  Changbin added.  Han nodded beside him.

“It’s not possible to always be in the same room, but I’ll try to let you know where I am.  And not be gone long.”  I said looking to each of them.

They looked unhappy but resigned.  They knew just as well as I did that, I couldn’t be with them all the time.  There would come a time when they separate themselves for their own things and I can’t be multiple places at once.  We would have to decide who I will go with and when.

“Now, Seungmin, come with me please.”  I stood and held a hand out to him.  “We are heading to the bathroom.  I am going to give you a shampoo massage.”

“OOO!  Can I get one?”  Felix asked.  “That sounds so good!”

Seungmin took my hand and stood as I answered.  “After Minnie.”

I set Seungmin up, so he comfortably lay with his head over my tub.  Using my detachable showerhead, I soaked his hair before lathering it generously with shampoo.  While the shampoo worked its magic, I fished one of my face masks from my toiletry bag and smoothed it over his face.

He caught my hand as I moved away.  “I’m sorry.  The last time you were here, I – I’m sorry for how I acted.”

I smiled at him softly.  “I understand your actions.  I was never upset with you.”  I assured him, rubbing my thumb along the back of his hand.  “We can start fresh now that I’m here to stay.”

Seungmin nodded.  “Okay.  Thank you.”

“No need for thanks.  Now, relax and enjoy.”

I got back to work, humming softly.  I could hear the others behind me in the guest room, unable to stay far away for long, but giving us some one-on-one time anyways.  As much as they were able to.  They stayed quiet so they didn’t disturb us.  It was a nice, warm moment filled with love and care all around.

Seungmin seemed to be enjoying himself, so I took my time, alternating between massaging and gently scratching his soapy scalp, then moving down to massage his neck and shoulders as well.  Then repeated the process with conditioner, adding in an ear massage.

“Mmm.  You’re very good at this.”  Seungmin hummed as I rinsed.

I smiled.  “Thank you.  I’m out of practice.  I used to do this for my mother when she got a migraine.”

“Where is your mother?  You never mentioned your parents before.”

I paused before patting his hair with a towel.  “She passed when I was 14.  Brain aneurysm.  Dad never recovered.  He had a heart attack 5 years later.”

“I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have pried.”  Seungmin sat up, turning to me.

Smiling brightly, I waved his words off.  “Don’t worry, Minnie.  I’m happy they are together again.”  I wasn’t lying.  I had long since come to terms with losing them.

“Now,” I draped the damp towel over his head.  “Send Felix in.”

Felix was almost as still as Sungmin had been.  I had no idea he could be so still and quiet.  He was always bubbling over with life, with movement.  To witness him so still and silent was unnerving.

“So, I don’t know how any of this works.  What can I expect over the next few weeks?

“We will need to link you to our calendars, so you have our schedules.”  Felix started.  “But the next few days are going to be filled with set list planning, dance practices, and making sure we still remember the lyrics and perfecting the singing.”

“So, I just…follow you around?”

“For now, I guess.”  He shrugged.

It honestly sounded boring.  Just sitting around while they practiced and worked.  I would just be in the way most likely.  And there was no way they would let me stay here.  I couldn’t even leave the room at this point.

Whatever.  It is what it is for now.  I’m new to this, learning everything as I go.  I would eventually find my spot in this part of their lives.  Where I could help and not be a burden.  Hopefully.

“What about when I’m revealed?”

Chan joined us, sitting on the floor next to the tub.  He must have been listening in to the conversation.

“We have a group live planned already for tomorrow, when our hiatus officially ends.  We can reveal you then and figure things out after that.”  He answered.

I dried Felixs hair with a dry towel while I let that sink in.  In just a day a secret I spent most of my life hiding will be revealed.  It almost didn’t feel real.  Like this was actually someone else’s life and I was just watching it from the sidelines.

“Is there any way, at all, that I can not be revealed?”  I asked with no real hope.  They always had a camera on them, and they always wanted me with them.  Therefore, I would always have a camera on me.

More than that, the law states I must go with them.  Stupid outdated law.

“We will be right there with you.”  He said not even bothering to answer my question.  We both already knew the answer anyways.

“It will be okay, Y/n.”  Felix assured, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and giving me a smile.

“I swear to god, if you guys break your promise and leave me, I’m running away!”  I threatened with every bit of seriousness I could muster.

They both chuckled.  “Yeah, you’re going to be fine.”  Chan reaffirmed.

Back in the guest room the Omegas had set up the makeshift beds again.  “Sleepover?”  At our ages?”  I joked.

“You are never too old for a sleepover.  Especially if it’s with you.”  I.N declared from his nest of blankets.

I rolled my eyes.  “If any of you snore, I’m kicking you out on your ass.”

Even though I slept most of the day, I was still ready to crawl under the blankets.  Since I didn’t sleep on the plane and exhausted myself bonding, my body didn’t know which way was up right now.  Though this may help get my sleep schedule on this time zone just a bit faster.

“No playing around.  We have an early day tomorrow.  Get to sleep.”  Chan ordered.  The room bustled into activity as the Omegas got ready for bed.  I changed into my makeshift pjs.  Turns out I didn’t pack any actual pjs, but I found something that worked so its whatever.

I crawled into the bed and faceplanted into the pillow, sighing loudly into it.  It smelled strongly of Seungmin.  So much so that I didn’t think he let anyone else sleep here since I left.

~

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