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wandering-winchesters · 1 year

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Take Me Back

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2,442

Summary: Based on the song, The Night We Met by Lord Huron, might be multiple parts dependent on how this one goes over.

Trigger Warnings: None really, language and angst.

A/N: I apologize for how long it has been since I have posted. It has honestly been a crazy month. After closing on my house, my grandfather passing away, getting everything settled... My husband and I found out that we are expecting our first child. So, it has been a crazy time. I hope you enjoy this fic, it has been bouncing around my brain for awhile.

All of You

Laughter erupts from my parted lips, Deans fingertips digging into the curve of my waist. His movements causing me to almost drop the jar of sauce that I am holding.

“You’re an ass, De.” I chuckle, swatting his hands away from my side where he was just tickling my skin.

“Mmm no, but you have a nice one.” He grins followed by a smirk as he grabs a handful of my ass through the fabric of my jeans. I again, swat his hand away. I roll my eyes at him and return to the spot I had been standing before he decided to annoy me. “I am trying to make you dinner here, idiot. The more you pester me, the longer it will take me to finish this damn lasagna.” I finish layering the sauce on top of the noodles and sprinkle the mozzarella cheese on top, before Dean gets in my way again. He reaches into the bag of cheese and pinches some between his fingers, before dropping it into his open mouth. He repeats the action, but instead of placing in his mouth, he drops it onto my head, a shit eating grin plastered across his face. I swear under my breath, sliding the lasagna into the oven and turning on my heel. A towel gripped in my hand, I start to twirl it around with the intention of smacking him in the leg with it, but he sees my plan and stops me by pinning my wrist to my side.

“Oh no you don’t, I know that trick all too well.” He laughs, presses a kiss to my forehead and draws me into his arms. Our laughter settles, turning to small chuckles and then silence. I rest my forehead against his chest and inhale deeply, taking in every ounce of him. Every second of this moment, the peace not something to take for granted.

“I love you.” I whisper, snuggling closer to him.

“I love you, more.” Dean replies, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

Most of You

"You're not coming, Y/N. It's too dangerous, that's my final answer." Dean growls, his back turned to me as he angrily zips up his duffle. The cloth of his t-shirt gettings caught in the zipper, his anger towards me coming out on his belongings.

"Since when, is that for you to decide Dean? You are not in charge of me. You never have been, you never will be." I bite back, harshly wiping away the tears that had formed at the corner of my eyes. "I might not be as good as you, or as strong as you, but I am not and idiot!" I yell, my voice growing louder with every word that I threw back at him. My body is shaking, anger pulsing through my veins. Its at that moment that I can see his demeanor completely change, his shoulders drop and his face softens towards me.

"Y/N, I don't think you're an idiot. Sweetheart, I just don't want you to get hurt. That's all, there have been too many close calls recently and I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you." His hands rub my arms, gently bringing warmth back to my skin. I nod, his words still stung but the anger was beginning to subside.

"I love you, sweetheart, please just stay here." I did as he asked, again. The amount of time that I had spent alone recently, was absurd. His overprotectiveness had become overbearing. It was cute at first, but now it was suffocating. Even when he was home and we were together, it was nothing like it used to be.

Some of You

The motel bed quickly grew cold, the sheets no longer radiating the heat from Deans sleeping body. I wince, pulling myself up into a sitting position and carefully propping up against the bed-frame. My ribs sore and radiating pain from where I had been thrown up against the wall, by a less than friendly casper. I had talked Dean into letting me come with him, since Sam was otherwise occupied. It had been a job to convince him to let me come, he had insisted it was a bad idea. That I could get hurt. Or that something worse could happen. I had insisted on coming with him, the desire to be near him outweighed the risks in my mind. He had eventually given in, my puppy dog eyes and the promise of cuddling him every night was enough to get my way. However, I don't think it will ever be enough to convince him again. I had been distracted, for half a second, which gave the spirit a moment to swoop in and throw me across the room. It had knocked me unconscious, Dean's voice and hands shaking me awake. His eyes wide and full of absolute fear.

He hadn't said much to me since then, he had brought me back to the motel, cleaned my wounds and insisted that we went to bed. I tossed and turned most of the night, until Dean got up and took a shower. I let my head fall back against the wall, inhaling a deep breath and steeling my nerve for when Dean emerges from the bathroom.

He finally does, his eyes locking with mine almost immediately.

"Hi," I whisper, giving him a small smile. One that he doesn't return, he rolls his eyes and turns his back to me in order to finish getting dressed. My heart jumps to my throat, hurt rising from his blatant attitude of anger towards me.

"Dean, you cant ignore me forever." I say, hoping to get him to engage with me in any form of communication. I brace myself for his response, knowing that it isn't going to be a kind reaction. "I told you that it wasn't a good idea for you to come with me! Y/N, I knew something like this would happen! You got hurt, this is why I didn't want you to come! You're so clumsy and you were distracted and if I hadn't been there, you would have died!" Dean snaps, his eyes dark and cold. The love that they used to hold for me no longer at the forefront of his gaze.

"Dean, it was an accident. Accidents happen, I'm okay baby." I whisper, silently begging him to look at me. But it didn't work, the silent treatment still his most used tactic.

We left the motel a few hours later, silence still hanging between us and headed back to the bunker. No matter what I tried, he was just quiet. He was angrier now, meaner and nowhere near as gentle with me. The question of what changed floated through my head on a constant, the answer hanging just out of reach.

None of You

I set my final box down, inside the doorway to the apartment. It feels cold and empty, an unforgiving space that I would do anything to leave behind. The bunker had been my home for years and the thought of going back to living alone was a depressing and painful thought. Dean simply didn't love me anymore, the words had come straight from his mouth. Whether they were from anger or fear, I never let him explain. We had been fighting too often, his words were no longer kind and understanding, they were brutal and designed to hit me where it hurts. He had become bitter and mean, the man that I had fallen in love with had changed, no matter how hard I tried to stop it. I clung to the good, but it just wasn't enough.

I slid down the wall, my back pressed against it, bringing my knees to my chest. I pull my phone from my pocket, the lock screen still the picture of Dean leaning against the Impala. On one of the days where we had managed to have a few minutes of peace. The calm before the ever present storm.

4:57 P.M. Sam: hey, all your stuff is gone. Dean is drunk and won't talk to me. Are you okay? 7:15 P.M. Sam: Y/N, please just let me know you are okay. I won't say a word to Dean if that's what it takes. I'm worried. 8:17 P.M. Y/N: I'm okay Sam. I moved out. I'll let him tell you why.

I turned my phone off, ignoring the several missed calls from Dean's cellphone and the dozen or so voicemails that he had left. It was too little too late, his words from our last fight still stung.

For so long, it had been Dean and I against everything. The demons of this world and the next. Until one day, where everything changed. The other shoe finally dropped and it was me against him.

I have to figure out how to stand on my own two feet once again, as painful as it is.

Take me back, to the night we met.

“I need another, please.” I slide my empty glass towards the bartender behind the counter. The ice clinks against the glass, a reminder of the margarita that I had quickly finished. The bartender nods, grabbing my empty and quickly replacing it with another. I thank him and continue to scroll aimlessly through my phone, sipping from the cold liquid, the liquor just strong enough to sting as it goes down. The pit in my stomach, slowly decreasing as the liquor dulls my sense.

“Bad day?” It’s at that moment, that I notice the man sitting to my left. I look at him for a second, taking in the sight before my eyes. He’s tall, from the look of it. His legs are long, stretched down to the floor instead of the footrest on the barstool. His eyes are a piercing green, to the point where if I didn’t know better, I would say that he was staring into my soul. I blink again, shaking my head slightly to clear my thoughts.

“One of the worst I’ve had as of late.” I sigh, resorting to taking another sip of my drink. He chuckles and slides over to the barstool directly next to mine. He signals to the bartender to get both of us another drink, even though I have barely made a dent on my current one.

“Tell me about it.” He says, his directness catches me off guard. I look at him again, scanning his face for any kind of deception or bad intention. Yet, there is none. I find myself yearning to trust him, even though he is a total stranger to me. His demeanor one that just pulls you in as soon as you lay eyes on them.

“Why? Are you going to drug me and take me hostage?” I ask, placing my elbow on the bar and swiveling my stool in such a way that I can look at him without having to crane my neck. He laughs again, clear and deep. His eyes crinkling in the most attractive way possible. “Dammit, Sweetheart, you have foiled my oh so evil plan.” He hesitates, looking at me, studying me. “But really, why is such a pretty woman having such a shit day?” I hesitate, killing time by taking a long sip from my margarita, I brush the hair back out of my face and look at him once again.

“I lost my job. Something about ‘budget cuts’, but in reality it’s because I wouldn’t sleep with my boss.” I expect him to tease me, call me a prude and then a slut in the same sentence.

“Want me to go beat him up for you? I will, no strings.” He offers, the look on his face incredibly serious. I laugh, expecting him to join in, but he doesn’t.

“You know what rubs salt in the wound?” I ask and he raises an eyebrow, taking a sip of his beer. “When I turned him down, he called me a whore. Told me I was ugly and wasn’t worth his time. Which is just ridiculous, he had spent months harassing me.” I shake my head, draining the last of my second drink and turning to the third, the one mystery green eyes bought for me.

“Well, if I ever run into this asshole, which I hope that I do, I will make sure he knows who the bad guy is. I’m sorry you had to deal with him. He doesn’t deserve an ounce of your time or concern.” His words are sharp, but pointed and direct. Yet they make me feel slightly better about the bad day I had been having. “What’s your name, green eyes?” I ask him, changing the subject in an attempt to keep him invested in our conversation.

“Dean, yours?” He responds, his body bladed towards my own, eyes never leaving my face.

“Y/N.”

We talked for hours at that bar, until last call. The conversation ranging from light and humorous, to the darker parts of our lives that weren’t often discussed. For such a gorgeous man who I gladly would’ve accepted one night with, it seemed as though fate would have it another way. He insisted on driving me home, stating that I was much too intoxicated to walk home. I didn’t argue, he was right. I had continued drinking long after he switched from beer to water. Even though I knew the dangers of getting into a strangers car, they didn’t phase me. I already felt safe with him, even though I couldn’t put a finger on why.

“Do you wanna come in?” I asked him, my fingers hooked into the pockets on his jacket. A motion intended to draw myself closer to him, but the alcohol in my veins had different plans. I wobbled, dangerously near falling off my porch. Dean gripped my forearms, tugging me tight against his chest to stop me from falling. A motion that caused a wave of dizziness to sweep across my sense, once I regained composure I looked up at him. His green eyes focused on my face, I could feel his want for me in this moment. He smiled, kissed my forehead and gently pushed me towards my front door.

“Not tonight, you are too drunk for me to feel comfortable taking what I want from you.” He says, a sentence that ignites every inch of my body. He wants me. He respects me. I nod, thank him for bringing me home and head inside. Little did I know, that meeting this tall green eyed man, would change the course of my life. Forever.

Tag List:

@roseblue373 @jc-winchester @hobby27 @mishreem

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yatsurinamikaze · 11 months

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Ch 3. Feel it Still.

Summary > One > Two > Three > Four

Aomine Daiki x Reader [MDNI]

Aomine groans as he wakes up, stretching his arms, Well no practice at least. He rubs and squints his eyes as he sees a tail wagging at the edge of his bed. Wha- “I was wondering you could take care of Tetsuya 2 since you won’t be playing for a couple of days.” Kuroko talks calmly, looking up at him in anticipation. “Yeah sure.”

The bell goes off in Aomine’s head, Wait a second. His brain short circuits, as he looks between Kuroko and Tetsuya 2 subsequently. ”What-how- WHEN DID YOU GET IN.”

Kuroko just smiles and puts Tetsuya 2 on Aomine’s lap. “Thank you.” Momoi speaks from the other end of the room,”Riko said you should still be there.”“ Aomine short circuits again, “You are here too?!!”

Momoi giggles as Aomine grumbles, “Remind me to change my locks.”

“You will be there right?” Momoi Satsuki, who is the chief analyst of the Basketball Association, studies his expression tilting her head. Normally Aomine would have skipped, since what’s the point of going if you can’t play ball but your pretty face pops into his head and he responds, “Yeah, whatever.” As he scratches the back of his neck.

To his dismay, you don’t show up at the practice, something about recovering from jetlag and sleeping in late. To his further dismay, he was now the errand boy for the group.

“Hey Mine-chin, can you get some fruit chuppets for me? Im not feeling it without ‘em today. And since you’re not doing anything..” Murasakibara trails off in his usual jarring tone. “And if you’re getting those, can you also get some Sparkling Water, Aominechhi?” Kise peeps from behind Murasakibara. Aomine gives them the death stare and soon, there’s a list of errands he has to run for everyone.

He groans and starts dragging his feet to the supermarket along with Tetsuya 2. Upon paying for all the things he just bought, his phone dings. “Can you get my knee pads? - My apartment is on the way. The door code is 458902” - Kagami. Great. Him too. He rolls his eyes. Just keeps getting worse this day.

He starts making his way with the little pup following him enthusiastically.

Meanwhile, at your place, you step out of the cold shower with a towel wrapped around yourself, the ends of your hair still dripping wet. You finally feel better from sleeping in late and taking the cold shower. You blast music on max volume, Feel it Still playing as you rock along the beat.

You start grooving to the music, your feet and body moves animatedly pretending to be a sexy dancer. You bend down and pick up your panties from your suitcase, you get up sexily with your hips moving in circular motion, you do a final hairlip as you get up.

You flip around to your make-believe audience, with your left hand on your waist and right hand raised holding your panties. You scream in shock as you see the same blue-haired male standing in front of you, same shock etched on his face, his mouth open in bewilderment.

Your mind is racing like the wind and face is getting red in embarrassment. You watch him slowly close his mouth and gulp. You both look at each other in stupor, unable to form words.

As the music dies down, the silence pierces through the room, breaking the stupor. Your eyebrows start scrunching up in anger, and he takes it as a queue to look away from you, you can see a red hue forming on his cheeks. You fold your arms, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I uh-“ Before he could finish, he’s interrupted by a loud shriek, he looks back at you only to find you on top of the coffee table pointing at Tetsuya 2, “What the hell is that?” You notice the little pup and start freaking out, you have never been a dog person, and are scared shitless of them.

Tetsuya 2 on the other hand just wags his tail and pounces around the coffee table trying to get to you. Aomine starts laughing looking at the scene in front of him, his eyes forming tears.

“What the hell are you laughing at” You scream as you jump from one couch to the other. “Take it back!!”

At this point Tetsuya 2 manages to jump on your couch. Shrieking, you jump from that couch to the one near Aomine, but right before your take off, Tetsuya 2 bites down on your towel.

Aomine’s eyes become wide as you jump onto him, completely naked, shrieking and putting your arms around him, his basketball reflexes catching you bridal style. He freezes as he looks down at you, naked, drenched, and in his arms. Your hair dripping water onto your soft body. You are breathing hard, your eyes are closed in fear.

Aomine chuckles and commands Tetsuya 2, “Hey 2, sit.”

You open one eye and see the pup sitting down, wagging his tail, no longer jumping on you.

You sigh in relief and look up at Aomine, still in his hold, and then back to your body. You shriek watching yourself completely naked and get off Aomine in a hurry. “S-stop looking!”

Aomine turns around trying to control his laughter, he walks to the pup taking the towel clutched between the pup’s teeth and handing it you, with his back still turned towards you. You quickly take it and wrap it around yourself. He picks up Tetsuya 2 in his hands.

“And what exactly are you doing here?” You walk back to your suitcase. “Don’t look.” You pick up a sweatpant and a loose hoody.

“I came here to get Kagami’s knee pads. He forgot ‘em here.” Aomine states with his back turned to you. You quickly put the clothes on you. “Im done.”

Aomine turns around to look at you, little pup smiling in his hold. “Aomine Daiki”

“Y/n L/n.” You open the drawer and toss the knee pads at Aomine.

He catches ‘em,”Nice to meet ya.” He says with a shit-eating grin.

“Yeah, whatever. Close the door on your way out.” You speak calmly, trying to act cool, as if nothing happened.

He walks towards the door, when he turns around, “Im uh-..Im sorry about the..whole thing”

“Cool.” You shrug looking away.

The door clicks as he exits.

“Ughhhhh” You groan loudly and lie face down on the couch, burying your face in the pillow. You’re embarrassed as hell, and start screaming into the pillow, “The fuck! The fuck! The fuck!” You groan once more.

You hear someone clearing their throat, and you look up from the pillow, your eyes blowing out of their sockets. He’s still here. Just kill me already.

“I-uh. I forgot to take the groceries.” He says with the shit-eating grin.

“Just leave.”

He quickly picks up the groceries and winks at you before turning back to open the door.

“And never come back again.”

“Sure thing.” He says while leaving. You can feel him grinning and are staring daggers on his back. The door clicks shut.

You groan, “I hate this life.” And bury your head in the pillow again.

Summary > One > Two > Three > Four

Author’s Note:

- I hope it came out as hilarious as I imagined it in my head. :D

- Interaction is my motivation juice. Taglist is open.

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stargazer-sims · 7 months

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The Art of Redemption

(part 11)

previous // next // story index

—————

Beth-Anne wakes up screaming.

Nikolai is jarred out of the best non-medicated sleep he's had in over a month, and he's momentarily confused because his brain can't determine whether the noise is real or part of a dream. With his heart thumping a bit too rapidly, he draws in a long, steadying breath. He opens his eyes and remembers that he's at Stan's place and that he and Beth-Anne had fallen asleep together.

When he rolls over, he discovers her sitting up with her palm pressed flat against her chest. They'd forgotten to close the curtains all the way, and in the dim illumination filtering in from outside, he thinks he can see tears on her face. She's breathing fast, each respiration a shallow but audible pant. It scares him. He's not sure what to do.

He says her name tentatively, pitching it like a question. "Beth-Anne?"

Either she doesn't hear him or she's not capable of processing the fact that he's talking to her. She's staring straight ahead. He doesn't know what she thinks she sees, but whatever it is, it's obvious she's terrified.

He swallows. Gathering his wits and telling himself that he has to do something, he pushes himself into a sitting position. Then, he reaches toward her and places his hand gently on her arm.

Her reaction is absolutely not what he expects.

She lets out a yelp and recoils as if he'd struck her, and scrambles away from him far enough that she gets dangerously close to falling off the bed. She gasps for breath. Her voice is ragged as she gets out a fierce and frightened, "Stay the hell away from me!"

"Beth-Anne," he says, more firmly this time. "Beth-Anne, it's me. It's Nikolai. I'm not going to hurt you."

It takes her a few seconds, but she finally focuses on him. She's still breathing hard, but he thinks she's starting to regain her sense of reality. "Nikolai," she whispers. "I... I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he says. "I think you were having a nightmare."

She nods. "Yeah."

"Are you okay?"

"I don't..." she begins, but then just goes with, "Yeah."

He holds out his hand to her, cautious of touching her again. "Here, do you want me to help you? You're really close to the edge of the bed, you know."

She doesn't take his hand. It seems she's more than capable of moving back toward the center of the bed on her own, but apparently this doesn't mean she doesn't need or want his support. Before he even fully grasps what she's doing, she wraps her arms around him, sags against his chest and begins to sob. Nikolai doesn't even hesitate. He reciprocates the hug, and hopes it'll be enough to comfort her and still the trembling he can feel wherever her body touches his.

Her words are muffled by her tears and the soft fabric of his t-shirt. "I wish it would stop."

"It's over now," he assures her.

She mumbles something that sounds like, "Maybe on the outside."

He doesn't understand what she means, but he doesn't ask her to elaborate. If he were to guess, she's probably talking about the nightmare. She knows there's nothing in the room that'll harm her, but what's inside her head is most likely a whole other matter.

He holds her until she stops crying. It's only a few minutes, but he imagines how it must feel for her. Seconds, or an eternity? When he'd cried in her arms in his front hallway, he'd felt like his tears would never end, and the effort had left him exhausted, humiliated and feeling weaker than he'd felt in his life.

He searches for a way to tell Beth-Anne that he understands, that whatever emotions she's experiencing are valid, and that he'll never judge her for any of it. All he wants is for her to feel safe.

Frustratingly, everything he comes up with sounds like a platitude. In the end, he settles for telling her simply, "I'm here. I've got you."

"Thank you," she says quietly. "Don't let go."

"Not until you're ready."

"I'm sorry I woke you."

"Don't worry about that," he says. "I can always catch up on my sleep later. The most important thing is that you're okay."

"I'm probably not," she says. "I'm fucked up, honestly, and sometimes it's really hard to hide it."

"Aren't we all kind of fucked up, though?"

"Maybe everybody is a little, but not like me." She releases a long, shaky sigh. She pulls away from him. "Sorry. You don't need to hear my sob story."

"Maybe not," he says, "But, do you need to tell it?"

"What?"

"You said it's getting harder to hide it. Maybe that's a sign you shouldn't be hiding it any more."

"I don't know," she says. "I want to tell somebody, but..."

"But what?"

"People would look at me differently if they knew. They already do, because of the scars, and it's... I don't know. Sometimes I think if people knew what was really going on inside my head sometimes, they'd run away. They'd think I'm a monster and they'd never want to trust me again."

"You want to know what I see?" Nikolai says. "It's not a monster."

"You don't know everything."

"No, but I'm not clueless. I know somebody gave you those scars. You don't get something like that from bumping into an open cabinet door or whatever."

"No, you don't," she agrees. She inches closer again, and then settles herself next to him. He puts one arm around her, and she leans into him. "This isn't too weird for you, is it?"

"Sitting like this, you mean? No," he says. "What's weird about human contact? Besides, you saw me naked in the bath. If that wasn't weird, then tell me how this is."

"Fair enough." She reaches up to trace one of the scars on her face. "You really don't think these make me monstrous?"

"No, I don't," he says. "The monster isn't you. It's the person who did that to you. You're a survivor and a warrior, and... and I don't care what anybody else thinks, and I don't care if this is inappropriate to say. You're beautiful. Really fucking beautiful, and your scars don't take a single thing away from that."

He hadn't meant to make her start crying again. This time, though, she doesn't sob. She sounds tired and sad, and it makes his heart hurt.

"I don't deserve you," she says. "You, Stan and Milena. You're all too good for me."

"That's not true. You're one of the best people I know, and I promise we all love you, no matter what. We're your family."

"Family," she echoes. She's silent for a while after that, but then almost too softly for him to hear, she says, "It was my mother. She gave me the scars."

Nikolai has the sensation of his stomach dropping several centimeters, and all the muscles along his spine contract. It takes a mighty effort to relax the sudden tension. He doesn't want to telegraph his shock to Beth-Anne, even though she has to know he's horrified.

The scars on Beth-Anne's face are long and heavy, the kind he knows come from having stitches. He's got a small one from accidentally crashing his bike and cutting his forearm on a sharp rock when he was a kid. That had required three stitches and the thickness of the little scar hasn't diminished much at all since the minor injury healed.

He doesn't want to think about how many stitches Beth-Anne had needed. She has two scars on her left cheek and one on the bridge of her nose that never gets completely concealed when she wears makeup. The biggest scar runs from beside her right eye almost all the way to the corner of her mouth. She has one on the palm of her right hand too, but he doesn't think most people notice that.

Her mother!

The notion that any parent could hurt their child at all is disgusting to him, but a woman who deliberately disfigured her daughter? It's repulsive and evil.

Nikolai thinks of his own mother. Elena Pavlenko isn't a physically demonstrative person and she doesn't often express her feelings in words, but he knows with absolute certainty that she loves him and his twin sister Natascha unconditionally. Mama has always encouraged both of them in her own way, and she has never, ever laid a hand on them in anger.

"I'm sorry," is all he can think to say.

"She was going to hurt my sister," Beth-Anne goes on as if he hadn't said anything. "My baby sister Abby. She was five, and I was eleven. I was trying to protect her."

"Because you're a warrior."

"Not that day. I was a child, and I was scared shitless," she says. "Claudia got mad at Abby for spilling fruit punch all over the living room carpet. She was five. Kids that age are fucking clumsy. They break stuff, spill stuff, fall down. Normal people just clean up and move on, but not Claudia. Not that day."

He wonders if it's wrong to ask, but he can't prevent the question from slipping out. "What happened?"

"Claudia was off her face, but that wasn't new. Booze was her vice, and if she ever had a fucking shred of self-control to begin with, it went out the window when she was drinking."

Beth-Anne's tone is flat, as if she's narrating a documentary rather than explaining what must've been one of the most traumatic experiences of her childhood, but Nikolai isn't fooled by it. It's not the first time he's heard her speaking like this. She'd talked to the doctor in Taiwan this way too, the one who was giving them the news about his injury and the prognosis that he might never walk without pain again, much less skate in an international competition. She'd been outwardly masking her emotions then, and she's doing it now. Perhaps, he thinks, this is her way of shielding herself from pain.

"Claudia was so angry. She... she smashed a bottle on the door frame and came after us with it. I was... I tried to keep Abby safe by basically laying on her, and Claudia decided she was going to punish me instead for not letting her get Abby."

"My God," is all Nikolai can manage in response. "Beth-Anne, I don't even know what to say."

"There's nothing you can say," she says. "What can a normal person say to that? She made me clean up my own face in the bathroom, but it wouldn't stop bleeding. I didn't get help until hours later. Not until my coach turned up at our house that evening to see why I wasn't at the rink for her afternoon group class. Nancy, my coach... she fuckin' lost it when she saw me."

"I don't doubt it."

"I ended up in the hospital, and Nancy called the cops, and I got sent to a foster home after that. But I was only there till my brother turned eighteen. He busted me out, and we kind of went on the run for a while. We lived in this old camper van and we were broke as shit, and I lost a lot of skating time, but at least nobody was trying to kill me when it was just me and Jason."

"And what about Abby?" He's almost afraid to find out.

"I don't know," she says. "Jason... Claudia tried to get me back, and Jason said if she did, it'd only be over his dead body. He said he wanted Abby too, and that's when she told him Abby was... she was gone."

"Gone? Like, she passed away?"

"I think that's what she was implying, but Jason and I didn't want to believe that. Jason tried to find out if she was in foster care like I was, but the social workers would never tell him anything because he wasn't Abby's legal guardian. I mean, that was the rule and I get it, but we thought it was bullshit at the time."

"Understandable."

"After a while, Jason told me that we should just forget about it because it would take a miracle to get Abby back with us, if... if she was still alive. And, you know, I think I did forget for a long time, but when I think about her now, I feel like shit for not trying harder."

"You shouldn't," Nikolai says. "You were a kid. What could you have done differently?"

"I don't know. Something."

"Have you tried to look for her recently?"

"No."

"Maybe you should. Milena could help you. She probably knows people who can access confidential records and stuff."

"I'd have to think about that." She closes her eyes. "Christ, this is hard."

"We don't have to talk any more if you don't want to."

"I miss her," Beth-Anne says. "That sounds stupid, considering the last time I saw her, we were just little kids and it's been thirty years. But still..."

"It doesn't sound stupid to me. It sounds like someone who never stopped loving her sister."

"For all the good loving her did."

"Don't say that. You might've saved her."

"For what? For Claudia to have another chance to..." She doesn't finish the sentence, but she doesn't really have to. "You know what the worst part is? Every day, I'm afraid that I'm just one mistake away, one loss of control away from becoming like Claudia. That haunts me."

"You're nothing like that."

She shakes her head. "My anger, it's... I'm fucking terrified of it, Nikolai. It's like this demon inside me, and I'm so scared it's going to get out some day. I love working with all my kids, but what if... what if I...?"

"You won't." He tightens his arm around her shoulders. "Know how I know?"

"How?"

"Because it's not just that you love working with all of us, it's that you love us. If you really love someone, you don't hurt them on purpose, even if you're angry. Besides, you're a good person and you know what's right."

"Is that enough?"

"I'm not a professional or anything, but I think so," he says. "You could ask a professional, I guess. Stan can probably help you find someone, if that's what you need."

"No." She shakes her head once more. "I tried that. I'm not ready to try again."

"Okay," he says. "Is there anything you think could help?"

"Brain transplant?" she ventures.

Despite the situation, Nikolai laughs. "Well, that's one highly-improbable option. I wouldn't like it if you got a brain transplant, though. You wouldn't be you any more."

"That's kind of the point."

"No. We want you just as you are. Me, Stan and Milena, Mariah, all your little kids. I'll bet even that self-important little shit, Brett Eriksson, wouldn't want to change you."

"Hey," she says. "That little shit is your rink mate. No trash-talking."

"Sorry, coach."

"You'd better be." He thinks she's attempting to sound stern, or at least mock-stern, but it lacks the energy to have the desired impact.

"Let's try to get back to sleep," he suggests.

'You can, if you want to," she says. "I'm not sure I'll be able to."

"At least lie down."

"Okay."

They arrange themselves spoon fashion beneath the cozy handmade quilt, with his arm draped around her from behind. She hugs Champion the teddy bear to her chest. Under any other circumstances, they would never do anything like this, but the unspoken need for human warmth and closeness erases any barriers that might otherwise have existed between them.

Regardless of her assertion that she couldn't go back to sleep, Beth-Anne drifts off before Nikolai does. As for him, he lies awake, considering everything that's just happened. He's overwhelmed by the fact that she trusts him enough to show vulnerability in front of him and to share something so deeply personal, and at the same time, he's amazed by her resilience, strength and courage.

You have no idea how wonderful you are, he wants to tell her. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. Maybe if you could, you'd be less afraid of your past and you'd feel better about the future.

You saved me, and you're teaching me to look forward, he adds to the silent confession. I wish I could find a way to do that for you.

#writing #the art of redemption #theartofredemption #tw child abuse #tw death #tw alchohol use #tw injury #tw blood foster care #beth-anne jones #nikolai pavlenko #stargazersims

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the-person-on-the-bridge · 2 years

Text

DPXDC Prompt №5

Well

Imagine that Danny and Klarion are a couple, and what a mess it could be. And what would be the reaction of the League? God, this idea just occupied my brain.

JL has a problem that neither they, nor JLD, nor YJ can handle. They decide to use their heavy artillery - Phantom. When Danny arrives he is met by a bunch of panicked superheroes who think the world is about to end. They tell him about the problem, for example, huge monsters that cannot be damaged. Danny realizes that he has already heard something similar. After a while, he remembers.

"Hey, do these monsters have some kind of seal or symbol on their side? For example, K with a dot?"

The league doesn't understand what this is about at all, but they say, yes, there is.

"Oh, I've faced them before, but I can't handle it alone. But I know who can help." Danny sits down on a chair, takes out his phone and starts typing. It takes a long time to type.

Half an hour later, everyone was on edge, and the Phantom didn't stop typing.

Superman couldn't stand it first: "Phantom, we appreciate your help, but please specify who we are waiting for." The boyscout is polite as always. The Batman clan looks at each other uneasily.

"My boyfriend. By the way, he's on his way," the Phantom answers nonchalantly, without looking up from the phone and continuing to type.

The League participants are close to a breakdown: not only is the threat hanging over the States, which they are not able to cope with, but the Phantom has added from above. Phantom, is an incredibly strong player by himself, their heavy artillery, the king of the fucking Endless Realms, dates someone SO powerful that this someone can help him stop a potential threat to the country.

Then something in the air changes. Magic users and the League look at Danny, who finally puts the phone in his pocket. He frowns irritably and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Finally," he muttered discontentedly and gets up.

A black-and-red portal appears in the room, from which an irritated Klarion exits. Exactly the one who was least expected to see. YJ are already ready to take up arms, but the Phantom is ahead of them.

"Did you see how much time has passed? You're late." Danny comes closer, still unhappy.

"I couldn't teleport out of YOUR fucking castle. You open portals yourself every day, why ban them in the castle at all?" Klarion goes to meet Danny. "I got lost in the corridors six times. SIX. I am 16 billion years old, I have existed since the beginning of the universe, and I could not get out of the castle!" the distance between them was rapidly shrinking until they were standing close.

In any other situation, many would have laughed at this, but not in this one. Everyone in the room felt the situation escalate. They saw the Phantom in anger, they saw the Klarion in anger, but they never saw them together, let alone together and in anger.

"So you think it's my fault?!" The windows began to be covered with frost, and circles began to appear on the coffee in the Green Arrow mug. The jar with the handles began to bounce, everyone in the room began to feel the force of their anger.

"This is your castle, your ban. Whose fault do you think it is that I'm late?" Klarion's voice dropped. The Phantom looked dumbfounded. "What… How do you even..." Phantom's incipient tirade was interrupted by Klarion's kiss. He pressed his lips to the Phantom's lips, closing his eyes. He ran one hand through the ghost's hair, and the other pulled the Phantom closer, holding on to his waist.

The Phantom relaxed into the kiss, wrapping his arms around the chaos lord's shoulders. Teekl stepped onto Phantom's shoulders, settling comfortably on them.

"Ahem-ahem" someone coughed tactfully

The Phantom moved a little away from Klarion, turning sideways to the League.

"Phantom, we understand your situation, however, you must remember the original purpose of our meeting." Batman is as straightforward as ever.

"Oh, right, sorry, guys," muttered the Phantom, turning in arms, but looking into the eyes of Klarion. "Do you remember the creatures we imprisoned in the time of Egypt?"

"Mmm, before or after Cleopatra?"

"After"

"Ugh, those slimy things?"

"Yes, and these slimy things are now taking over the east coast. Why did you put your stamp on them at all?” Phantom asked, leaning back into the embrace.

"I was thinking of leaving them for a rainy day," Klarion replied, stroking Teekl, still sitting on someone else's shoulders. "They had potential. Before they went mad with anger and started consuming each other."

"Ugh, okay," the Phantom grumbled, twisting out of the embrace completely. "Let's go show class"

Having created the portal, the Phantom invited Klarion to go first, gallantly bending over and bending his arm behind his back. "After you"

Klarion grunted, took the Teekl and disappeared into his own portal. Phantom rolled his eyes. "Eccentric"

JL remained in stunned silence, watching the interaction of the two creatures and asking a lot of questions. How long have these two known each other? What is the real age of the Phantom, if it existed before Cleopatra? If the Phantom knows that Klarion is the lord of chaos, does that mean that the Phantom may be involved in Klarion's affairs?

Just a minute after the two creatures leave, JL watches as the two subdue one monster after another. In just ten minutes two of which they kissed Phantom and Klarion defeat all the creatures. Klarion reads a spell, the Phantom opens a huge purple portal, where Klarion sends the bodies of monsters with a spell. When the creatures' bodies have disappeared, the Phantom creates another portal in which they disappear.

JL has literally a few seconds before they feel the familiar chill.

"I'm sorry it took so long. Last time we did it faster," the Phantom's voice rang out at the end of the hall.

Turning around, the heroes saw Klarion supporting Phantom by the elbow. The ghost looked paler than usual, but overall not bad. On the Phantom's cloak was a black slime left over from monsters, which he looked at with undisguised disgust.

"Phe, I thought I didn't get dirty"

"I told you not to kick them, but when you listened to me," Klarion rolled his eyes”

"Hey, ghosts don't attack Amity anymore, it's nice to remember the past sometimes"

"You're a member of the Justice League. Isn't that enough?"

"It's not the same. Okay, guys," The Phantom looked at the League again, "I'm damn tired and I'll answer your questions another time. You've already ruined our movie night. Waiting is the least price you will pay for it. See you soon!"

They were swallowed up by the Klarion’s portal, leaving the League confused and shocked. The first, oddly enough, Constantine came to himself.

"I need a drink"

Klarion and Danny: * kissing while monsters are raging in the background*

Literally the entire Justice League:

#dpxdc #dp x dc au #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #I sat down to write an idea but got out of control #The League had a very busy evening #Danny and Кlarion are unhappy #A movie night that wasn't meant to happen #Constantine is on the verge of fainting #Clarion collects monsters like Selina stray cats #Danny doesn't like it he's like a grumpy wife #danny fenton x klarion #Doctor Fate as a father who did not approve of his daughter's boyfriend #He is attached to Кlarion in his own way #although he diligently denies it

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blackbloodteeth · 3 months

Text

"Y'know I really don't think you guys need to do this, actually-"

Soul winces as the obscured cultist to his left secures his restraints a little too tightly, the one on his right straightening him further upright in the funky ritual chair as the head honcho is approached by yet another obedient underling.

"I mean really, I think you've got the wrong guy!"

The cult leader, lifting up the received helmet – which looks a lot like a large seashell if it had a deathtrap of teeth in it – turns back towards him, speaking in the most casual matter-of-fact for someone leading a brainwashed army. "No, we're certain we finally found who we're looking for. Just sit still for a moment."

"I really rather'd not—" He feels his shoulders knot up while he tries to pull his head back as far away from the encroaching man and his death hat that he's very much hating how close is getting to his face now.

"Just accept its grace, and let it awaken you anew."

He swears he can actually feel himself sweating bullets when the underside of the teeth coming into direct view splay out to let loose about a bajillion fucked-up tongue things, leading Soul's next moments to be him pathetically attempting to squirm out from the chair he's tied to, a sudden and jarring sensation of having his forehead chewed on, and what felt like his brain being directly plugged into before everything goes completely dark.

And then he blinks.

Soul's standing now, arms held in front of him like he just took a drop off the stairs and somehow landed on just his feet. He's even looking around… somewhere. It's still pretty dark here, but with black and red checkerboard tile flooring, and thick red curtains draped around the walls, with the ceiling – oh nevermind, there is no ceiling. He won't be looking up again.

This somewhere feels almost familiar.

Taking a very cautious breath, he doesn't quite move yet while looking down at his hands – fingers still stretched outright to catch himself – and furrowing his eyebrows at the very nice, fancy striped black suit he's now wearing, contrasting red tie including. Damn, he's even got matching black shoes for this.

Before he even has the chance to make sense of any of this, or any of the this from directly beforehand (dream on, kiddo), he actually jumps a couple feet in the air like a goddamn cat or something when the sound of someone else's shoes step into vie- oh my god what the fuck is that. It's like if someone made a claymation little devil goatman but then dropped its face on the floor and-

"Okay, this is just cruel and unusual punishment." God even its voice is like if sandpaper and gravel had an ugly baby together- "Okay, okay, enough; I get it. This form is absolutely vile, can we move on from that for a minute."

Soul sputters. "You can hear my thoughts?"

"That, or the narration. Now can we please just get to the point already, this is bad enough as it is." The little devil runs its long, spindly fingers away from the dark mask around its eyes and over its red, bald little head with an exasperated sigh and then glares at him with its nonexistent pupils.

"I finally have someone compatible to be inside. You will now 'awaken' and have the entirety of a cult at your command, and eventually be the host for some old god to do whatever it wants with you as you gain unimaginable power over the world, and probably everything else. Sound good?"

Soul soon wins the record for most amount of blinks done in a second before throwing his hands out like tossing confetti. "What- No!"

"Exactly!"

He recoils as the little devil rips its fingers away from one of its bent horns and points at him. "It's all boring prophecy bullshit, and I don't even get a say in any of it! You're the one I'm stuck with now, so let's do something about it – Chaos, madness, the mariachi; Literally anything else!"

"I do like chaos," Soul nods in agreement.

"Fantastic. Let's fuck shit up, then."

His stare pauses at the freaky outstretched hand reaching up to him, its teeth that are just as sharp as his both grinning and grimacing until Soul shrugs and goes in for the handshake, the two of them now smiling like idiots as the demon then snaps its other fingers. He can clearly see the cultists raising their arms despite there being something over the top of his head, the grand announcing of the leader quickly fading into hearing.

"—kened! Release our new lord from his shackles!"

The weight around his body soon falls away, a truly deranged grin rising on his face as he booms out before anyone else can speak.

"Gentlemen –" A wave a murmurs startle around him as he shoots up onto his feet, the imagery of long, conniving fingers rubbing together as Soul then cracks his knuckles. "There's been a change of plans."

#2024 art #writing #soul eater #soul variant #soul evans #little oni

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stay-safe-pixieboots · 2 years

Text

Dead

Characters: Adam Cole, Matt Jackson, Nick Jackson, and Kenny Omega

Summary: Adam Cole is dead. And he is the only one that doesn’t know it.

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 2,412

Chapters: 3

Authors Note: I have broken out of my writing slump! I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope you have a lot of fun reading it! You can either read it on Ao3 or here on Tumblr!

------

The world slammed into him as if he's fallen through several tables. His vision was fuzzy and everything around him sounded like it was muffled and very far away.

What happened?

Why was he on the floor?

Did he pass out?

"Matt?" Adam groaned, sitting up slowly. "Nick?"

They were just right there.

Where'd they go?

And speaking of where they were- where was everyone else? Normally after a show like this, backstage and the locker room were bustling with noise. As of right now, there is no one to be seen.

He wandered down the hall at a slow pace, searching every room he came across.

Something isn't right.

He can feel it.

"Hello? Is anyone here?" Adam calls out as he cracks open the door to the trainer's room. However, when he steps inside fully, he finds absolutely nothing.

It's as if no one had been here at all.

He ran a finger along an abandoned shelf, his finger coming away with dust.

"Maybe I should call them." Adam wonders aloud, searching-

Oh, right.

He's still wearing his trunks. There's no way that he'd have his phone on him right now. And after searching the locker room earlier, he knows that his bag is nowhere to be found.

Anxiety creeps up his spine like a spider along a wall. This- this isn't right. Something isn't right. He keeps coming back to that fact. His brain latching onto it and not letting go.

Adam goes back to where he woke up, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. He forces himself to think back, trying to come up with something- anything that could help him figure out what happened.

But when he closes his eyes and rests his forehead against his knees, his memory is that of a wasteland- barren and empty. The only thing that he can clearly remember is Matt and Nick. They were talking in the hallway after the show.

Something isn't right.

Why can't he remember?

His spiraling was cut short when he heard a door open. He stood up quickly. Maybe it was one of the guys. Maybe they realized that he was missing.

Surely, someone would realize if he was gone- wouldn't they?

Adam ran up to the front, quickly recognizing that the person was not one of the guys. But at this point, he'd take anything.

"Hey! Can you help me? I just wrestled a show here but-" He stopped as the person walked right past him. He was being pretty loud, so there was no way that the person couldn't have heard him.

Adam followed them down the hall, stopping when they unlocked a closet. They must be a janitor.

As the person grabbed the mop bucket, he tried to stand in their line of sight. "My name is Adam Cole. Can you please help me? I just woke up here. I just wrestled a show but everyone and everything is gone."

And once again they completely ignored him. Are they doing this on purpose? Did everyone on the planet just decide it was fuck with Adam Cole day?

Adam forced the panic down and turned away, grabbing the handle of the front door and forcing it open. He stepped outside-

The second time that Adam wakes up that day is much more jarring than the first. He's laying square in the middle of the road in the downpouring rain.

He sits up so fast that it makes his head spin. He is sure that he isn't in Reseda anymore, but the street he finds himself on is familiar.

And he knows right where to go.

By the time he finds the house that he is looking for, the sun was starting to rise and the rain has tapered off into a drizzle.

He walks up the driveway and relief floods his frantic veins as he hears someone working out in the garage. Adam opens the door and starts to speak. Hopefully, he won't have to go through the whole janitor saga again.

"Matt?" He starts tentatively, but before he can get anything else out, Matt startles and drops the weight that he had been holding.

Matt whips around and stares at him, wide-eyed and pale-faced. "Adam? What are you- you can't..."

Adam takes a step closer, but Matt backs up, a hand shooting out. "Matt, what's going on?"

"You can't be here...there's-there's no way..."

"What do you mean I can't be here? Why is everyone acting so weird?"

Without another word, Matt grabs his phone and practically sprints back inside the house. However, Adam follows, completely undeterred. "Matt, you have to tell me what's going on. Why are you acting so weird? What happened? Why did you and Nick ditch me in Reseda?"

Matt just kept going, pretending as if he couldn't hear him. But Adam knows that this is different from the janitor. Matt seemed to actually acknowledge that he was there.

Matt walks into his room and shuts the door, locking it behind him. Adam sighs and sits on the floor in the hall, facing Matt's door.

He needs answers.

He'll wait all day if he needs to.

END OF CHAPTER ONE

------

Matt groans and rolls over, tugging the comforter up and over his head. This had been the first night where he slept all the way through in almost a week.

His nights have been plagued with nightmares- tormenting and unrelenting. It was almost as if the image of Adam Cole laying on the floor after he drank that monster had been plastered to the inside of his eyelids.

And if that wasn't enough, the nightmares have spilled over into the day.

Matt really hopes whatever mental break he had yesterday could just be chalked up to a lack of sleep. Because if he keeps seeing things, he doesn't know what to tell Nick.

Nick already had a hard enough time working through his guilt. He doesn't need to dig up the past and add to it by bringing it up.

He'll be alright.

He always was.

So why should he give his brother a reason to worry?

It takes Matt an obscene amount of time and energy to work up the willpower to get out of bed.

And when he opens the door, he's tempted to just crawl right back into bed.

Because Adam Cole is still there, sitting on the floor in his hallway.

He tries to slip past him, but Adam follows, speaking up from behind him. "Matt, please. You gotta help me."

"No, Adam. I don't have to help you with anything." He retorts, reaching up into a cupboard to grab a mug.

"Wha-Matt, what is going on? Why are you acting so weird?"

Matt scoffs, rolling his eyes. "I'm acting weird? Whatever-Just- Adam, you gotta go. You can't be here."

Adam crosses his arms, hopping up to sit on the counter next to where Matt was trying to make some coffee. "Why do you keep saying that? Why can't I be here?"

"Just go, dude."

"I'm not leaving until you give me answers. Why is everyone ignoring me?"

Matt works up the courage to look up at Adam, finding that he looks the same as the day that he died. He was still wearing his ring gear and his hair was still pulled up. "No one is ignoring you."

"Oh, really? Because the last person I tried talking to acted like I wasn't even there."

"Maybe they can't hear you."

"You can hear me."

"Just because I can hear you doesn't mean that everyone else can."

"What kind of excuse is that? You're keeping something from me. I can tell."

"I'm not keeping anything from you, Adam. Just get outta here."

Adam sighs, running a hand down his face. "Can you at least tell me where I can find someone with answers?"

Matt shrugs, taking a sip from his mug. "I don't know. You gotta figure this out yourself."

"Did we fight?"

Matt looks up at him again. "What?"

"Did we have a fight? Is that why you're acting like this?"

"Adam-"

"No, Matt. Don't shrug this off. I need to know what is going on." Adam interrupts. "First I wake up in Reseda and no one is there. Nobody can seem to see or hear me. This is really freaking me out."

"And I told you, you have to figure it out yourself."

Adam growls and hops off the counter. "Whatever, man. You know that this is really scaring me and you don't even care to try and help."

"C'mon-"

"No! Fuck you, Matt! You said I'll have to figure it out myself, right? So here I go. Figuring it out. On my own."

Adam takes a deep breath, trying to push down his fear.

To hide it where Matt can't see it.

Matt was being a dick.

He doesn't deserve the satisfaction of seeing the pain that he's causing him.

They're best friends. Well, at least he thought they were. But still, shouldn't friends help friends?

He shakes his head and opens the door, not looking back at Matt as he walks away.

END OF CHAPTER TWO

------

The passage of time, Adam has figured out, is a foreign concept to him now.

He had managed to figure out what day it was once, but his brain almost seemed to reject that there are different days in the week.

One time he thought it was Wednesday- but wait, it is not Wednesday- it's actually Saturday.

Everything is blurring together. He feels like his brain is encased in a helmet of fog. It doesn't allow him to think clearly.

And on top of that, with his near-constant blackouts, he couldn't even tell you what year it was anymore.

He was pretty sure that it was 2017. But hell, it could be 2021 for all that he knew.

Adam groans in frustration as he wanders down the hallway at some random arena. He followed Matt there, not recognizing the company name at all. He tried to keep up with all the indie companies, so it is odd that this one managed to slip under his radar.

"I don't think this is a good idea, you guys.."

Adam stops outside a door as Matt's voice drifts out from behind it. He has no idea what the plan is, but it can't be good if Matt is tentative about it.

"It's gonna be fine. Malakai said that this would work." Another voice. Kenny.

"And what if it doesn't? You shouldn't be messing around with this stuff."

"Whatever- Just- grab my hand. He said that we needed to sit in a circle, hold hands, and read from this book."

"Read from a book?" A third voice scoffs- Nick. "Are you kidding me?"

"We need help. If it works, it works. If it doesn't, it doesn't."

"Let's get this over with," Matt says, his voice sounding pained.

The voices devolve into a language he doesn't recognize as they apparently read from a book.

The lights in the hallway are flickering.

And something is wrong.

Something is very, very wrong.

Adam wraps an arm around his stomach as he nearly doubles over in pain. It feels like someone stuck a knife there and is taking great pleasure in twisting it around.

"M-matt?" He calls out, stumbling towards the door. "Matt, help me. Some-something isn't right."

He knows that Matt is still ignoring him- just like everyone else in the world. But this is genuinely scaring the shit out of him.

It feels like he's dying.

Adam crumples to the ground in front of the door, just a fingertip away from opening it.

Just inches away from help.

He gasps as he slowly curls in on himself, hoping that if he makes himself smaller the pain will stop.

It doesn't.

It gets worse.

So much worse.

The pain comes in waves, hellbent on drowning him. And he thinks it succeeded as his vision completely blacks out, his body going numb.

----------

Matt opens his eyes, looking at the circle where Kenny said Adam would be standing. He finds nothing but the framed picture that they had placed there.

"I told you it wouldn't work, Kenny," Nick speaks up. "You can't just bring people back from the dead like that."

"I-I don't understand... Malakai said this would work."

"Well, it didn't," Matt says, standing up and heading to the door. "C'mon, Nick. We gotta get ready for our match."

Nick followed Matt, and Kenny- sighing with disappointment followed not that long after.

----------

When Adam comes to, he finds himself in a darkened room surrounded by candles. He takes stock of himself, finding that he is now wearing different clothes.

He reaches into a pocket, feeling a familiar weight there.

A phone.

Thank god.

Adam presses a button and the screen lights up, the date, month, and year clearly displayed.

2021.

"Oh, my god." He blinks in disbelief. The year never changes despite his wish that it would. "It's been four years?"

Adam looks around the room before rushing to the door. But before he could grab the knob, the acidicly sweet taste of monster overtakes his mouth. Why would he be tasting monster? He hasn't drunk any of that stuff in a long, long time.

He shakes the awkward feeling off and opens the door, coming face to face with the men he had been seeking help from for god knows how long.

Nick's eyes widen. "Adam?"

Adam looks between them. "What? Wait- you can see me?"

"Yeah, I can see you. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You...You weren't-" Adam cuts himself off, trying to shake the fog off. "You couldn't..."

Matt's reflexes act before his brain does. His arms snap out because Adam is suddenly pitching forward, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. He hooks his arms underneath Adam's knees and walks further into the room. "Shut the door."

Nick scrambles to shut the door, a shocked expression on his face. "Matt, it worked."

Matt remains silent as he sets Adam on the couch. He thought that his mind was just playing tricks on him because of his guilt. But what Adam said... Asking Nick if he can see him. That means-

"Oh my god..."

"Are you alright?"

Matt nods, his eyes not leaving Adam's face. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure? This is a lot..."

"I'm. Fine."

At least, he hopes it will be.

People come back from the dead every day, right?

END OF CHAPTER THREE

#adam cole #matt jackson #nick jackson #kenny omega #my writing #aew fanfiction #wrestling fanfiction

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dilfcherricola · 1 year

Note

🎧

Something jars my brain / When I close my eyes, it goes away

#ough I love this song #ask #anon

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

Text

Merlin goes home for a little while, determined to enjoy a well-earned vacation;

Camelot immediately falls apart, with the sole exceptions of Guinevere and Gaius.

Merlin knows Arthur really well.

Which just means he knows exactly how to get him to let his servant go home for two weeks to visit his mother and relax a little:

“You just don’t want me to go because you know you can’t cope without me! Look, if you want to come with me, that’s fine, but you’ll struggle just as much there as you would here because I refuse to act as your servant in my own home.”

Arthur turns red, looking outraged as he loses the ability to speak. Merlin turns around before The King can see his satisfied smirk, tidying around the prat’s chambers with exaggerated annoyance as he just waits for the inevitable-

“Fine! Go! See if I even notice that you’re gone! Honestly, Merlin, the running of the Kingdom will probably end up going smoother without you here to mess things up, you bumbling idiot.”

Merlin grins to himself before schooling his face back into annoyance and turning around with a huff, crossing his arms petulantly:

“Fine!”

The servant decides that he’d better leave, what with the way he was struggling to keep the victorious grin from his face, so without waiting for a response, he “storms” from the room, slamming the door behind him as dramatically as he’s able when he hears Arthur yell:

“FINE!”

Merlin sets off at the beginning of the next week. Gaius had raised a disapproving eyebrow when his ward had told him how he’d gotten Arthur to agree to such a long vacation, but didn’t say anything. They both knew that the elderly physician thought it was funny.

Gwen and Morgana make sure to see him out of the castle gates with big hugs, and whilst all of the knights were meant to be training, it came as no surprise to anyone when Gwaine slacks off for half a candle-mark to say goodbye as well. Mordred shoots him a quick goodbye across their mental link as the servant walks away from the city, after promising Merlin that he would warn him if anyone was in any serious danger (”Serious danger only, Mordred, I mean it. If I get called home because Arthur is throwing some sort of tantrum, then I’ll act out your destiny for you.”).

Merlin’s journey goes smoothly. The world was hovering in the junction between Spring and Summer, but with a little magical manipulation, the Warlock had no trouble staying warm and keeping his feet beneath him on the uneven path. Unsurprisingly, the young man is a lot less clumsy when he doesn’t have to focus on keeping his magic locked away so tightly.

Two days after his departure from Camelot, his mother is greeting him outside her little house with a long hug and a wide grin, stroking a hand through his hair as she welcomes him home.

Coincidentally, that’s also about the time things started going to shit for everyone else.

It was just after noon when Elyan had to be carried to Gaius’ chambers, his whole body juddering as he struggles to draw breath, the lack of oxygen from his throat closing up mixed with the panic making his brain go fuzzy.

Percival holds him up from one side and Leon holds him from the other, the two of them bursting through the physician’s door just as Elyan’s eyes roll back in his head. Gaius looks up suddenly, obviously startled by the abrupt intrusion, but he swiftly focuses, eyes wide and assessing as he quickly points them to a patient pallet:

“What happened?”

The two knights lay him down as carefully as they can before standing out of the way as Leon forces out an answer, trying to catch his breath between words:

“I don’t know, servants brought lunch out whilst we were training so we stopped to eat and he just started... wheezing. We thought he was choking at first but he said he couldn’t breathe. Has... has he been poisoned? We stopped everyone from eating.”

Gaius had gathered a handful of odd looking dried leaves the moment Leon mentioned the food, recognising the symptoms of an allergic reaction and putting two and two together immediately. He crushes them in his hands quickly, knowing he didn’t have time for a proper mortar and pestle as he shoves the crumbs into Elyan’s mouth, following through with a vile of something green and gross-smelling

He massages the odd concoction down Elyan’s throat as best he can around the swelling, and lets out a relieved smile when the knight’s eyes blow wide open and he chokes slightly before swallowing it all, grimacing at the taste but breathing deeply as his airways open again.

Leon and Percival let out similar breathes of relief when Elyan begins breathing again, chuckling breathlessly at his disgusted groan. The door bursts open again before anyone can say anything, and Arthur strides in, his flushed cheeks and rumpled clothes implying he had sprinted across the castle in his panic.

He spots Elyan on the pallet, his deep breaths interspersed with the odd cough, and his eyes widen even further as he looks to Gaius for an explanation:

“A servant told me something was wrong, what happened?!”

The King loses a little of the tension in his shoulders when Elyan waves a thumbs-up in his vague direction, but still looks frantically between the two knights and the physician as he waits for an answer. Percival wordlessly moves to Elyan’s side, running a hand up and down the man’s arm as Leon looks to Gaius expectantly:

“He had an allergic reaction, likely to nuts in the food. He should be fine, but he needs a day or two of rest, and to come back to me immediately if his throat swells again.”

Arthur sags in relief, nodding his approval of Elyan’s needed bedrest, but Leon’s eyes go wide as he lets out a knowing noise:

“Of course! I forgot about his allergy, it hasn’t been an issue since we were kids.”

Gaius nods knowingly and begins reorganising the jars he had knocked over when the knights had startled him:

“Hmm. I imagine he watched what he ate carefully when he was travelling, but Merlin keeps an eye on all of your food now.”

Leon frowns slightly as he tilts his head in confusion, but Arthur beats him to the punch, asking incredulously:

“What do you mean, Merlin keeps an eye on our food?”

Gaius raises an eyebrow, holding in his smirk as he slowly replies:

“Well, Merlin is usually the one to bring food out to you when you train, is he not? And on days he can’t he always speaks with the kitchen staff to double check what food is going where. Sir Elyan is not the only one with an allergy, My Lord. Merlin always makes sure any food the seven of you are given is safe. He has a tendency to check the Lady Morgana’s meals as well, whenever he’s able.”

Arthur is too taken aback to reply, his mouth hanging open, but that is when Percival looks up from his place at Elyan’s side, a confused frown on his face:

“Why?”

Gaius doesn’t manage to hold his smile in at that, looking between the three knights, and Elyan, who has just about managed to regain his breath:

“To avoid situations like this, I imagine, and to check for poison. It’s not uncommon for assassins to try and lace the royal’s food with something or other.”

Arthur finally shuts his mouth, only to open it again, speaking slowly:

“So... Merlin checks all of our food?”

Gaius nods:

“Religiously, Sire.”

Leon and Percival just shrug, adding it to their list of Weird Things About Merlin That They Should Be Grateful For, and Elyan smiles goofily from his place on the bed (whether it was the lack of oxygen or something funky in the vial, the knight didn’t know, but he was definitely still feeling a little... odd), but Arthur just frowns deeper, muttering a distracted “Take it easy.” to Elyan before walking stiffly from the room.

The King makes quick work of the journey back to the council meeting, desperately trying to persuade himself that this was nothing to do with him not being able to cope without Merlin. Elyan was the one not coping, clearly. Merlin was still wrong and stupid and Arthur hadn’t even noticed that he was gone until Gaius brought him up (a lie, he missed him terribly, but shhh).

Leon and Percival look to Gaius in confusion when Arthur had almost stormed from the room, and the Physician simply smiles again, the amusement shining clearly in his eyes:

“Merlin persuaded Arthur to let him take a holiday by heavily implying that he couldn’t cope with Merlin’s absence.”

Percival snorts with laughter and Leon raises an eyebrow as he grins:

“Arthur took that as a challenge then, I suppose? Two days in and we’ve already got The King sprinting from meetings because a knight has collapsed from an allergic reaction... because Merlin wasn’t here...”

Gaius just nods, and Percival mutters an amused:

“This will be entertaining.”

Arthur steadfastly refuses to acknowledge that the next mini disaster, a few days later, was also down to Merlin’s absence.

Ok, so maybe it was because Merlin wasn’t here, but ultimately, it was Gwaine that messed up, not Arthur. So it didn’t count.

The knight came back from a night patrol that he’d taken with The King with an infected gash on his arm. Arthur grins teasingly as he describes to Gaius how the knight had tripped on a loose cobblestone and scratched his arm on the sharp edge of a stray cart at the beginning of the patrol, and Gaius hums disapprovingly as he unwraps the scrap of fabric Gwaine had used as a bandage:

“Did you not have any medical supplies in your pack? Or did you think it best to let it get infected so I had to wake an hour before dawn to deal with it?”

Gwaine swings his dangling legs back and forth from where he sits on Gaius’ table, pouting sheepishly as he admits:

“I looked, but there wasn’t anything helpful in there, usually the armoury-hands have them stocked up for the patrols, I guess they missed mine.”

Arthur rolls his eyes at Gwaine’s seeming ineptitude, but his scolding is interrupted before it even begins when Gaius shakes his head in disagreement:

“Hmm. The servants that work in the armoury only tend to check the packs every few weeks, and even then they only check if they need any repairs. Merlin is the one with easier access to patrol rotas, so he’s the one who stocks them up on a day to day basis.”

Gwaine just nods in understanding, as if he should’ve expected that, but Arthur’s smile drops as he unfolds his arms, getting over his annoyed speechlessness in a matter of seconds:

“You’re telling me that Merlin, my personal manservant, is responsible for all the knights’ patrol packs?”

Gaius finishes cleaning Gwaine’s wound, muttering a quiet apology when the knight hisses at the first poke of the needle, speaking slowly as he focuses on making sure the stitches were neat and uniform:

“No, Sire. Technically the knights are meant to take care of their own packs, but Merlin is a paranoid man, he likes to double check things to make sure everyone has what they need. I suppose some people got used to having it done for them.”

Gwaine winces abashedly, making a mental note to remind the others to check their packs before their next patrols, but Arthur rolls his eyes, crossing his arms again and immediately accepting that this little incident was therefore Gwaine’s fault, and not down to Merlin's absence.

The voice in his head sounded a little doubtful, but he ignores it, choosing instead to chide his rebellious:

“Do try to pay attention to your own responsibilities, Sir Gwaine, I’d hate to see something terrible happen to you because you’re unable to complete your own simple tasks.”

Gwaine just sticks his tongue out petulantly, looking away from The King before he can see the blonde’s rolled eyes. Arthur huffs at his childishness, turning around to cover his grin and speaking over his shoulder as he walks from the room:

“You will be on time for once, Gwaine, training starts in a few hours and I want to see you bright and early.”

Gwaine just smirks, waiting for the door to shut behind Arthur before moving his sly, curious eyes to the physician in front of him:

“He’s missing Merlin, then?”

Gaius just gives him a knowing glance before looking back down at the now stitched gash, gathering bandages:

“I’d imagine so, though he’d never admit it. Merlin implied that Arthur wouldn’t cope with his absence,-”

Gwaine interrupts him with a laugh:

“Hence his insistence that it was entirely my fault?”

Gaius nods wordlessly, and Gwaine snorts, shaking his head in amused disbelief.

Meanwhile, Arthur stalks back towards his chambers, eager to get out of his armour and get into bed; Gwaine had training in a few hours, but so did he, and he needed at least a little sleep. He purses his lips in annoyance as his gaze falls upon the clinical cleanliness of his room... George had been in then.

Look... Arthur being used to a slightly messy room did NOT mean he depended on Merlin. And Gwaine not being used to having to actually organise himself ALSO didn’t mean that Merlin was... ok. Maybe Gwaine relies on Merlin a little.

So that’s Sir Elyan and Sir Gwaine, two of The King’s most trusted knights, who can’t cope without Merlin. But Arthur is doing just fine. It’s been half a week and he is just. Fine.

Just fine.

It was the next day that things began going wrong a little more... drastically.

George wakes Arthur up for training on time because of course he does. Arthur had found himself losing out on a lot of sleep without Merlin insisting he go to bed at a reasonable time, and waking him up late; Merlin had gotten into the habit of snatching Arthur’s paperwork away and holding it out of reach until The King agreed to go to sleep, and somehow manages to fit Arthur’s entire morning routine into half a candle-mark. George would never snatch away Arthur’s paperwork, and he takes so much longer in the mornings meaning Arthur has to wake up earlier.

Not that Arthur would ever admit to enjoying his and Merlin’s unorthodox routines.

Eight more days to go, and he’s fine.

At least... that’s what he thought until a nameless guard approaches the training field, waving him over from his spar with Mordred. Arthur strides over quickly, annoyed at the interruption and nodding at the guard to speak as he drinks from his water-skin:

“My Lord, Lord Halbert and Lady Ethel have arrived. I believe they’re waiting for your presence in the courtyard.”

Arthur chokes, managing to turn his head to the side just in time before he spits a mouthful of water over the guards face. He quickly wipes his mouth and turns back to the pour armoured man with wide eyes:

“That’s today?!

The guard nods hesitatingly:

“Yes, Sire, would you like me-”

He’s interrupted when Arthur shouts a hurried:

“Fuck!” as he drops his water-skin and begins sprinting up the field towards the castle, desperately trying to calculate if he had enough time to wash and change before they got antsy with waiting. Probably not.

Seeing Arthur’s panic and hearing his loud curse, Leon hurriedly approaches the guard, putting a friendly hand on his shoulder as he speaks with a frown:

“Gavin? Is everything alright?”

The guard, Gavin, looks to Leon with a confused frown:

“It would appear that His Majesty... misremembered the date of Lord Halbert and Lady Ethel’s arrival.”

Leon’s eyes go wide and he glances quickly to the castle as he rushes out an exclamation identical to Arthur’s:

“That’s today?!”

Gavin just nods again, and Leon drops the hand from his shoulder, letting out a loud:

“Shit!” as he recreates Arthur’s sprint up to the castle, knowing that he was expected to be at The King’s side when welcoming guests. He doesn’t pause, even when he shouts:

“Lancelot’s in charge!” over his shoulder.

The knights all look to each other in amusement, but Lancelot quickly takes charge, running drills as if he had been doing it his entire life and trusting that, whatever it was, Arthur could get things sorted. And if Arthur couldn’t get things sorted, then Leon would get things sorted. And if Leon couldn’t get things sorted, then Merlin would... oh.

He glances worriedly to the castle just as Leon falls through the door, not bothering to shut it behind him in his panic. Oh.

Arthur lets out the deepest breath of relief he thinks he’s ever experienced when he sees George ahead of him in the corridor; he gestures him over hastily, making the servant jog to keep up with him as he continues his fast pace down the hall:

“I don’t care how many other servants you have to pull from their duties, but I need the castle prepped for Halbert and Ethel’s arrival right now.-”

Arthur barely pays attention to George’s faltering step of shock, just stops suddenly in front of the door that leads down to the courtyard, turning to the servant and putting both hands on his shoulder as he stares at him intensely, face flushed and breathing harsh:

“I need you to do this for me, George. Prepare guest chambers, send someone down to show them to the right rooms, and make sure the Kitchens know they’re feeding two extra nobles for three days, starting today. If you can organise all of that in the next two minutes, I’ll give you a raise and a Godamn hug, you hear me?!”

George gulps, his shoulders tense, his face pale, and his breath frozen in his lungs as he meets Arthur’s frantic gaze with wide eyes. He gives a shaky nod, instantly turning and sprinting down the corridor without a word when Arthur lets go.

Leon skids around the corner, moving to stand next to Arthur with his hands on his knees as he attempts to catch his breath, speaking in a slight wheeze:

“I... I left Lance... in charge.”

Arthur nods in approval, pulling Leon to stand before holding his hands out to the side, presenting himself for inspection. Leon takes one last deep breath, smoothing the training tunic over Arthur’s shoulders, attempting to rub the dirt from his nose, and brushing a quick hand through his hair before stepping back and holding his own arms out. Arthur pulls a leaf from behind his ear, but is otherwise satisfied, and the two of them turn to the door, schooling their faces and stepping down into the courtyard.

Arthur has a calm, welcoming smile on his face, and Leon stands stiffly behind him, hand on the sword that he luckily had on his hip as he stares blankly ahead.

The nobles seem taken aback at The King's state of undress, but don’t say anything, covering their shock quickly. Arthur’s hoping that his friendly attitude will just give the impression that he’s...approachable and slightly laid back, as opposed to just an idiot who forgot they were coming because no one had reminded him.

Gods. Merlin can never know about this.

Thankfully, the next three days went smoothly, or at least as smoothly as possible after Arthur spent an hour rifling through his old mail to try and figure out the original reason for Lord Halbert and Lady Ethel’s visit (watching their eldest’s knighting ceremony, and discussing with Arthur the potential for their youngest to move to the city to become a squire).

He waves them off in a much more regal manner than he had welcomed them, and keeps his promise to George, upping his pay slightly; though he exchanges the hug for an awkward pat on the shoulder, which he thinks both of them were grateful for.

He’d successfully made it through nine days. Semi-successfully. He’d just about made it through nine days.

Five more to go. But Arthur was feeling fine about those five days. He’d double checked all his mail, and made sure to find out when his patrols were scheduled.

Which is... unknown to Arthur, where the next problem stems from.

Arthur wasn’t the one to rota the patrols, he really didn’t have the time to sit down with a list of names and hours and times and maps and organise everything fairly, it was difficult and time-consuming, but he made sure that Leon knew exactly how many hours he could give up for patrol each week.

Apparently, the communication between Leon and the council was normally handled by Merlin, who wasn’t there. So whilst Arthur was enjoying a solo patrol along the city borders at noon, waving at citizens and making his horse do tricks for giggling children, the council were sitting around the table, waiting rather irately for his arrival.

Now normally, this could’ve been easily dealt with, but when the same guard from three days ago gallops over to inform him of the problem and take over his patrol, Arthur was reminded rather suddenly that Merlin was always the one that came up with sensible sounding excuses.

(He also makes a mental note to avoid that guard forever out of embarrassment.)

This was one of the very rare occasions when Arthur simply glares the council into submission. Normally he likes to work with them; he hates to feel like they're just doing what he wants because they were kissing his arse, but he has no excuse other than “I forgot.” and he felt like that was worse than just.. acting like a bit of a dick for five minutes.

So... yeah. Merlin wasn’t there to reorganise the council meeting around Arthur’s patrol, and then also wasn’t there to come up with an excuse for why it wasn’t reorganised.

Arthur makes it ten days before he admits to himself that perhaps he relies on his manservant just a little too much.

Four days later, Arthur had missed another council meeting (despite his best efforts), Lancelot and Mordred had accidentally insulted some visiting Lord (and had therefore been told not to leave their rooms until he had vacated the city), and Gwen was no longer speaking to him, on account of The King being a dick without realising because Merlin wasn’t there to rein in his ego and... well... dickishness. That, and his crown had somehow gone missing between yesterday morning and now.

(If that last one had happened even a week prior, Arthur would’ve been adamant that it had been stolen or something else equally not-his-fault, but with how quickly he’d been made aware of his apparent bad memory and social clumsiness, he had every faith that he’d just misplaced it, and Merlin would know exactly where to look.)

Arthur was sitting on the courtyard steps, tunic unlaced at the top and hair a mess when his servant finally, finally walks through the castle gates. The King perks up slightly, but refuses to give Merlin the satisfaction of being run to, so forces himself to remain in place. He was especially glad that he’d made that decision when he saw Guinevere spring over to greet him. He has a feeling she won’t be all that... welcoming, at least not yet.

Merlin wraps her in a tight hug and Arthur forces down the swell of jealousy in his lungs, especially when he laughs brightly and pulls back to clasp her shoulders. Arthur sees Gwen’s face fall at a question Merlin had asked and he gulps, biting his lip when Merlin frowns and raises an incredulous eyebrow at her response. She points in Arthur’s direction, and The King’s eyes go wide as he rapidly stands, failing miserably at looking as though he weren’t staring in their direction. Guinevere rolls her eyes before giving Merlin one last hug and walking very deliberately in the opposite direction to Arthur.

Merlin marches towards him, slight annoyance mixing with a secret eagerness to check on Arthur speeding up his normal pace significantly. Before the servant can say anything, Arthur grabs his wrist, pulling him up the steps and through the castle without a word, tugging harshly every time Merlin opens his mouth to demand an explanation for himself or an apology for Gwen.

When they finally reach his chambers, Arthur quickly locks the door behind him, whirling on an angry Merlin with flushed cheeks and a desperate look in his eyes:

“I swear Merlin, I will never doubt you again, but Elyan almost died, Gwaine got an infection, Leon and I forgot about Ethel and Halbert, Lancelot and Mordred are essentially under house arrest, I missed two council meetings, lost my crown, and now Gwen’s not talking to me. You’re never allowed to leave me again.”

Merlin freezes in place, staring at Arthur with wide eyes and an open mouth for a few moments before he bursts into laugher. Arthur huffs, crossing his arms as his blush deepens, but waits patiently instead of demanding that Merlin stop. Honestly? He may have been laughing at Arthur, but it was still the most beautiful sound The King had heard in two weeks, and he’d definitely missed it. Which is... something to think about at a later date.

Merlin finally relents, his dimples showing prominently as he holds in another round of giggles at Arthur’s red face. The servant drops his pack to the floor, stepping forward and not giving Arthur time to move away before he pulls him into a tight hug, sighing contentedly at the warm contact:

“I missed you too, you prat. You’ll just have to come with me next time and we can leave Gwen and Gaius in charge.”

Arthur huffs out a gentle laugh, finally wrapping his arms around Merlin’s middle tightly and burying his face in the slightly taller man’s hair:

“I did. Miss you, I mean. And I also mean it when I say you’re never going anywhere without me again, this has been a nightmare.”

Merlin snorts, tightening his grip on Arthur as if he were trying to squeeze all of the stress out of him:

“Co-dependency isn’t the healthiest thing in the world, you know.”

Arthur just huffs, refusing to let go as he petulantly responds:

“I don’t care. I’m The King, I can do what I want.”

Arthur can almost feel Merlin rolling his eyes, but the servant just laughs again and seems to nod in agreement:

“Hmm. That excuse is going to come back to haunt you one day. Heard you gave George a raise?”

The blonde tenses in embarrassment, now refusing to pull away so Merlin wouldn’t see his pink cheeks:

“Uh... yeah. He cleans too much and is shit at coming up with plausible excuses, but he did save my arse a few times.”

Arthur can feel Merlin’s laugh vibrate through his ribcage, and though the man was usually rather touch averse, he found he never wanted the feeling to stop. He found himself hoping that Merlin felt the same when The King chuckles at his response:

“Oh yeah? Does that mean I get a raise for being good at excuses and bad at cleaning?”

THE END!!!

Literally wrote this in one day so... sorry if it’s bad😅

Had no clue how I was going to end it until I got there, my thought process essentially just went “Hugs? Yeah. Hugs hugs hugs hugs hugs.” :D

Same as always lads, you wanna write it out in full or remix it or whatever, go for it, just drop me a message and credit/tag me :)

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titan-fodder · 3 years

Text

Find a Way Chapter 8

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Rating: E (explicit; mdni)

Count: 5k

Tags/Warnings: general awkwardness, kissin’, explicit sexual content (vaginal fingering), overthinking, communication, interruptions, mentions of labor and delivery, a preemie baby, erwin and levi being erwin and levi, cuteness, use of ‘daddy’, general vulnerability

A/N: this takes place right after the dinner date! thank you all so much for being so patient. i hope it holds up. was so happy to get back to writing these two, so enjoy~

Your hands are shaking as you hold Remy's food bag, spilling little pebbles into his bowl as he waits impatiently beside you, whole body wagging in time with his little tail. Your brain is absolutely bursting with too much information, too many questions, too many things you aren't sure you wanted to know.

But, things you definitely needed to know.

A fiance. Alcoholism. That's… Substantial. That's something to consider.

“If you need some time—” Miche starts, but you immediately straighten up, spilling a bit of the kibble on the floor as you do and making him smile softly.

“No, it’s…” You take a breath. “It’s a lot, but it doesn’t mean I want you to, like, leave or anything.”

Miche raises an eyebrow, slow to ask, “Is our date not coming to a close soon anyway?”

“I mean, it can if you want it to,” you answer, bending over again to put the bag of food on the ground, carefully picking up the fallen pieces and dropping them in Remy’s bowl.

It dawns on you that Miche probably thinks you’re trying to get him to stay so that you can fuck—which wouldn’t be a complete lie—but it’s really just that you’re not ready to say goodbye yet. Even as muddled as your thoughts are, you still want to be around him.

“I don’t know how early you have to get up in the morning, but I could go for a couple episodes of something or a movie or… whatever…” You end on a thick swallow because Miche is frowning now, forehead wrinkled adorably.

“Are you sure you don’t need some space?” he tries again, and you nearly scoff.

“Miche, if you need space or just–I don’t know–don’t wanna look at my face anymore, just say so.”

And just like that, his expression goes soft again. He takes the few steps necessary to get to you then uses gentle fingertips to tilt your chin up.

“I always wanna look at your face.”

Your stomach does somersaults as you gaze into green eyes, and it’s quickly apparent that you are absolutely helpless in his hands. Any baggage is forgotten, replaced with broad shoulders and laugh lines and a deep tambor that gives you goosebumps.

“Yeah?” Your voice is barely more than a whisper.

Miche nods slowly as he glances at your mouth, and that’s all it takes for you to move.

Already on your tiptoes thanks to your heels, all you can do is crane your neck and reach to pull him closer. Fortunately, he gets the picture, the hand on your jaw sliding to the back of your neck as he meets you halfway.

It’s been a long time since kissing has felt this innocent—exploratory as you both feel the other out. One long press of his lips followed by a few shorter, chaste pecks until your body is flush with his and you feel the brush of his tongue.

Your heart is beating far too fast, body heating to record-breaking temperatures, and honestly, are you a horny little teenager all over again? Why has that knot of anticipation settled in your gut so quickly? Why are you fucking throbbing at the sensation of his tongue in your mouth?

Probably because you’ve wanted him from day one.

Still, your autonomic response is jarring and only intensified when Miche splays a hand over the small of your back, pressing you further against him before his fingers curl in the material of your dress.

You can feel your legs beginning to ache, calves twinging, and you don’t hesitate to pant a desperate, “Couch,” immediately being whisked away to the piece of furniture.

Sitting at an awkward side-by-side angle, both of you twist into each other. One of your hands remains on Miche’s chest while you use the other to take off your shoes, heavy heels clunking as they hit the ground. You’re breathing a little too heavily at this point, might even be trembling, and even though it feels like you might literally die if he keeps kissing you like he is, you want more. You wanna be closer. You want–

When you raise to your knees, Miche breaks away and stares at you, having to tilt his head back for the first time as you hover a few inches above him. He reaches for your hips, eyes hooded but still very aware of your every movement as he guides you into his lap.

You have to fight a whimper when he pulls your dress up enough to allow your legs to spread over his, fabric bunching at your hips, and fuck, you can feel him–the friction of his growing cock straining against his pants and pressing against your core.

Miche groans, a sound so deep it vibrates in your bones, then takes your face in his hands again. His kiss is hotter now, sucking on your lower lip before nipping at it, pushing his tongue between your teeth so that your nails bite into his shoulders and you arch your back–oh, fuck that feels good, rubbing yourself over him like that, Jesus Christ. You do it again, rocking gently in his lap, growing wetter by the second, and you want him. You want him so fucking badly.

“Miche–I…”

It washes over you once again: this is Miche. Miche. Who you’ve been steadily falling for, who has been better to you than any guy you’ve ever dated, who is so insanely out of your league, you don’t even understand what he’s doing with you, but you’ll take it. Fuck, you’ll take anything he gives you.

“What?” he rumbles, trailing down to your neck and brushing his mouth over your pulse point. “What is it, baby?”

God dammit, you like that. You like that too much, it makes you grind down on him again.

“I want you,” you breathe, and you can feel him smile into your skin.

“What happened to that movie?”

You laugh, a frankly pathetic but still clearly amused little song, then tell him, “If you’d prefer a movie, we can–we can do that, but…” You let your hand fall between your legs, lifting yourself just enough to palm his hardened cock through his pants before smirking at him. “I don’t think that’s really what you want.”

Miche bucks, and you finally notice that his cheeks are a little rosier than usual, feel how warm his body has become.. He does want this too, right? He has to, not like he’s just humoring you or anything. He’s clearly affected, but… is this just another instance of you throwing yourself at him? Have you backed him into a corner again? Had he really been ready to leave before the two of you made it to the couch?

The line of thought makes you straighten up and stop, leaving Miche to tilt his head and watch you.

“”What? What did I do?” he asks, confused but still kind.

It makes you exhale a chuckle and shake your head. “Nothing. I’m just trying to… reel myself in, I guess.”

Your hands are shaking, quickly enveloped by Miche’s, and you almost want to pull away so that he won’t see just how worked up you are, but it’s a little too late for that considering there’s already a wet spot in your skimpy underwear and, it’s not like he’s looking there or anything, but if he were to feel so inclined as to touch–

“Why?” he interrupts your internal monologue again, and you blink at him. “What’s going on in your head? Talk to me.”

You shrug, glancing away. “I’m just, like, trying to think if I’m missing some subtle cues or something. Like, if you’ve been trying to tell me you’re not ready for–” you clear your throat and motion to the lack of space between your bodies, “–if you don’t want… this? I’m not making sense.”

It’s probably nothing. Maybe you shouldn’t have stopped in the first place. You’re just being self-conscious and reading too far into things.

And, Miche more or less confirms this when he grins at you, his quintessential lopsided smile that sets you a little more at ease.

“I didn’t plan to fool around tonight,” he admits, brushing hair out of your face before lightly stroking the apple of your cheek. “Kind of wanted to butter you up a little more, actually treat you right so you don’t think I’m just trying to get in your pants…”

Your mouth twists as you fight your own smile. “I’ve never once thought that, for the record,” you tell him. “But, you probably think I’m only interested in getting into yours since I keep doing shit like this.”

“You’re not doing anything wrong,” Miche laughs. “I appreciate that you have the presence of mind to stop and think for a second, but–” He sits up a little straighter, lips just barely grazing yours as he assures you, “I want this too. Believe me.” A surprise roll of his hips for emphasis, and he adds one more, “Believe me.”

You let out a sigh of relief, shutting your eyes only for them to fly open again when Miche lowers his voice and tells you, “One day I’m gonna make it impossible for you to think straight.”

He kisses the curve of your jaw, fingers sliding down your side until they creep between your legs. Despite him barely even touching you, you’re panting for him, can feel the heat from his hand more than anything, the weight of it so close to where you want it.

He runs a fingertip—feather light—over your covered folds, and you shudder on top of him, mouth falling open.

You expect him to tease you about how you’re already soaking through your panties, something about it not taking much or how you’re so desperate, but all Miche does is hum low in his throat and keep running his fingers over you.

A single tap to your clit makes you squeak, eyes rolling, and Miche sounds thoroughly satisfied when he questions, “Keep going?”

“Please, Miche, I need—” Something inside you. You’re clenching around nothing, and if you don’t get your pussy filled soon, you’re going to combust.

“Please, who?” he prompts softly.

Your brain short-circuits for a moment, overstimulated and so stupid with desire that it doesn’t click, and when you lock eyes with him again you’re surprised to see how his pupils have grown, how his lower lip shines after he licks over it.

“Will you say it again?” he tries, then clarifies, “Call me what you did the other night. Call me—”

You think your face may split with how widely you grin, entertained and painfully turned on by the fact that he wants to hear it from you, so you lean forward, rocking into his hand as you get a bit closer to his ear and moan a breathy, “Please, daddy.”

His response is instantaneous, a hissed, “Fuck,” before he catches your lips in a brutal kiss. He pushes your panties to the side without issue, holding the material out of the way with one finger while sliding another between your folds.

You feel like you might start hyperventilating. Miche uses your leaking arousal as lubricant then starts pushing his middle finger inside you. You fucking sing for him, head thrown back, back bowing until you feel knuckles against your damp skin, and then you squeeze.

Just one of his fingers already has you seeing stars, so long and thick, rubbing against your gummy walls as he groans against your neck. He gives a couple thrusts before curling, the pad of his finger pressing into your g-spot, and of course he would know exactly how and where to press, of fucking course–

“Ohmygod,” you huff, pelvis rolling, legs spreading further and sinking on either side of his when he slides another finger alongside the first.

His palm grinds over your clit, not too hard, not too soft, and you swear you can feel every little crease–life line and fate line and all that other psychic bullshit you could never be bothered with before but are suddenly very aware of because it’s Miche who’s touching you, who’s fucking into you with deft fingers, and fuck, fuck, you’ll be so pissed if you come like this instead of on his cock, but he is dangerously good at what he’s doing, so there is a very good chance of that happening.

You feel the vibration of his phone before you hear it ring out, watch as Miche frowns before reaching down with his free hand to pull it from his pocket and silence it, thank god. He drops it on the cushion face down before setting his sights on your face again, and only then do you realize he never actually stopped moving his fingers even while distracted, still pumping in and out of you at a steady pace, massaging the sensitive spot that swells with every thrust.

You’re ready now. You know you are, wet and stretched and begging to be filled with something bigger, and you can tell by the way he resituated himself under you that he’s ready for something more as well.

Then his fucking phone rings again, and this time he actually swears and apologizes as he flips it over to look at the contact.

Ian Dietrich (Resident)

“Are you…” You breathe in through your nose to steady yourself then finish asking, “Are you on call tonight?”

Miche shakes his head. “I’m not, but I–shit–”

“You can take it,” you tell him, words sounding a little too slurred for your liking as you reach down to take his wrist and make him stop what he’s doing. A damn shame considering how fucking good it felt, but you can see the dilemma in his eyes. “Take the call, Miche. I’m right here.”

He exhales sharply then grabs the phone, answering with a simple, “Zacharias,” that sends a pleasant shiver down your spine.

His fingers twitch where they’re still inside you, and you bite down hard on your lip as he drags them out of you, listening intently while pulling your underwear back in place, stroking over puffy folds before eventually raising his hand to his mouth to lick your slick from it.

You watch him, his professional intonations bouncing around in your head as you listen to every, “Mhm” and “Yes”, and trying not to be too disappointed when he closes with a sigh and, “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Thanks, Ian.”

Sliding out of his lap, you resign yourself to a warm shower and your vibrator, which is fine. You aren’t upset. You’re just aching.

Miche turns to you, and you can tell he’s about to apologize again, but you wave it off with a smile. “Don’t worry about it. I admire the dedication.”

His expression is full of remorse, so you lean forward and try to kiss it away, speaking into his lips, “Just tell me about the patient that pulled you away, yeah?”

He nods, nose bumping yours, then deepens the kiss just enough for you to taste yourself on his tongue before breaking away and standing.

“I’ll text you,” he promises, still looking like he’s in genuine pain. “I promise.”

“I know you will,” you grin. “Now go, it’s fine. I have a date with some silicone, if ya’ know what I mean.”

Miche groans loudly as he walks to the door, grumbling, “You’re killin’ me, baby,” which only makes you giggle.

He bends over to scratch Remy’s head then grabs his keys, opening the door and turning back to you as if to say something else, but when he finds you smirking, he just shakes his head and smiles, leaving a little too quickly.

The door shuts behind him, and you sigh, falling back on the couch as you replay the evening. The food was great. The confessions were… troubling but manageable, you think. You probably should think on it a little more, but first…

“Alright, Remy,” you say, gaining the little dog’s attention. “You hold down the fort while I shower and finish what Doctor Perfect started.” Remy only tilts his head in response, leaving you to walk into your bedroom and dig through your little toy box until you find what you’re looking for.

You fantasize about Miche’s hands and how they felt on you, the way he’d pulled your dress up and gripped your hips. His tongue in your mouth, his fingers in your cunt–you can almost still feel them if you think hard enough, stretching your hole to get you ready for more.

When you come, it’s with his name on your lips, and when you bathe, you imagine what it would be like to have him there with you, holding you from behind, both of you covered in suds. It’s a pretty picture–sexy but more than that, it’s intimate. And, you want that. You want that with him.

Yes, you want him to fuck your brains out, but more than that, you want to know what it’s like to lay with him in the afterglow of it all, when the sheets are on the ground and your legs are tangled together and all you can do is bask in each other’s presence.

You know there’s a chance you’re just romanticizing it–romanticizing him–but it’s impossible not to. Miche is just… He’s so good. Way too good for you, and one day he’ll figure that out, but until then, you’ll keep gazing at him in awe and giggling too much at his jokes and clinging to him in every way you can. Until then, you’ll just keep falling for him.

Miche told Ian and the other residents that they could and should call him should anything happen with Mrs. Cooper. He knows he did, remembers how stern he was during the conversation because he had seen this woman through her entire pregnancy, and he’d be damned if she gave birth without him at the hospital.

“Even if I’m not the doctor on-call, you call me if she has any complications or if she goes into labor, got it?” The younger doctors had nodded, and he’d walked away feeling satisfied.

Now, though, as he stands in the NICU watching an exhausted Mrs. Cooper coo at her brand-new son where he lays in the incubator, Miche is happy, yes, but he is not satisfied. Not as satisfied as he should be, anyway.

It had been a tough case, a tough eight months walking her through her high-risk pregnancy, and on one hand he is ecstatic, but on the other he’s frustrated that this—this whole bringing new life into the world—happened at such an inconvenient fucking time.

He’d had you in his lap, literally in the palm of his hand, squirming and whimpering into his mouth while your whole body shook around his two fingers, and Miche was positive he’d be able to get you to fall apart just like that, wanted you to–wanted to see your pretty face and feel your nails dig into his skin, but…

Little boy Cooper just had to come out four weeks premature.

It’s fine, maybe even for the best. Miche had been planning to wait for a little longer anyway, make sure you know what you’re getting into before getting into it too deeply. Plus, now that you’ve both gotten a little taste, the anticipation will be even better. It’s really a win-win, right?

The god damned ache in his balls may disagree, but Miche knows leaving was the right thing to do.

When he steps out of the NICU, he’s surprised to see Erwin passing just outside, Levi at his side, coffee cups in their hands.

“Oh, hey,” Erwin greets with a frown. “What are you doing here? I thought you had your date tonight.”

“I did,” Miche sighs. He’s even in the same clothes, just has his badge clipped to the front pocket of his shirt.

“What? She kick your ass out or something?” Levi smirks.

Miche rolls his eyes. “She did not, thank you. Ian called me. Mrs. Cooper went into labor.”

“The high-risk one you both worked with?” Levi clarifies.

Erwin nods. “Heart transplant six months ago, thirty-eight years old, so geriatric pregnancy. She had to be watched very closely.”

Levi hums, looking past Miche to the double doors that have already closed behind him, and Miche answers his unasked question, “They’re both doing fine. I mean, he’s a month premature, so we’ll have to keep an eye on him here for a while, but so far, they’re both fine.”

“Good,” Levi nods. “I mean, sucks you got called away, but glad they’re doing alright.”

“I’ll live,” Miche grunts, catching Erwin’s eye and immediately looking away before his best friend can read into any bit of his facial expression.

They all begin walking toward the nearest elevator bank, and Miche isn’t at all surprised when Erwin asks, “So, how did it go? You at least got through dinner, right?”

He nods, and about halfway through dessert, Miche thinks before cringing at himself. That was gross.

“I think it went well. I, uh, went ahead and told her about Petra.”

“Probably a good call. How’d she take it?”

Miche shrugs, “As well as she could have.” Elevator doors open and he steps in after the other two, leaning up against one wall as he recounts the conversation. “She’s just young, so I could see her lose a bit of confidence which is stupid because she’s so…” He reaches up to rub at his eyes. There are a million words he could use to describe you, all of them positive, but Erwin and Levi probably aren’t interested in listening to him gush, so he cuts himself off with a sharp, “Anyway,” then touches on your shithead ex and the fact that you know about his drinking problem.

“Sounds like you guys had an absolute blast,” Levi says sarcastically.

“That was us just getting stuff out of the way. Formalities, if you will.”

“Formalities,” Erwin snorts. “I guess it’s better to bring them up now than later.”

“Exactly.”

“Please tell me you actually made pleasant small talk as well,” Erwin pries. “Oh, how’d she like the outfit?”

Miche laughs. Of course, he’d want to know. “She said it was nice.”

“Did you show some ankle?”

“No.”

Levi rolls his eyes and mumbles, “Should’ve showed ankle, Zacharias.”

“I don’t understand either of you, and I no longer want to.”

They get off at the third floor, Erwin clapping a hand down on Miche’s shoulder as he goes, and then he’s left alone in the elevator until he gets off at the basement level and walks into the parking garage.

It’s getting late, nearly midnight, but he figures he can shoot you a text in hopes that you’re still awake.

<< Do you still want to hear about this case?

You message back just as he’s turning the car on.

>> why yes, i do 🥰

<< I’m about to drive home. Can I call you?

You don’t respond. Instead, Miche’s phone lights up with an incoming call from you, and he grins as he accepts it and pulls out of the parking lot.

“Hey, sorry about earlier,” he starts because he still is, and he wants you to know.

But, like before, you brush it off with a carefree, “It’s fine. Now, tell me what happened!”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckles.

“Also, I’m about to start brushing my teeth, so if I just make, like, unintelligible sounds, that’s why.”

“Noted.”

Miche hears a sink, a slight echo letting him know he’s on speaker, then begins talking, going over some of the big details without giving out too much information (the kind that violates the law).

As you warned, you respond with a myriad of hums and gurgles before telling him, “Hol ‘o, I go’a shpi–” which Miche is pretty sure translates to, hold on, I’m gonna spit, but isn’t positive until he hears you do exactly that, rinsing your mouth afterward.

“Okay, I’m back. I’m sure that was super cute.”

The ridiculous thing is that it was super cute, that now Miche is thinking about what it would be like to be in a bathroom with you, brushing his own teeth, watching you wash your face or whatever your nightly routine is. He isn’t surprised by his desire for domesticity, having never really seen himself as a bachelor even in his years of being single, but he is a little taken aback at just how much he wants that domesticity with you.

“Adorable, actually.”

“Whatever, goofball.” He can just imagine the way you roll your eyes and smile bashfully. “Anyway, mom and baby are doin’ okay?”

“Yeah, all things considered, they’re okay. He’s not out of the woods just yet. I’m expecting some complications, but for now they’re both doing well.”

“Good, I’m…” You pause, and Miche waits as he pulls into his parking lot. “I’m glad you left to see her through it. That was really sweet of you.”

“Trust me when I say that’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever done,” Miche laughs, mostly at himself.

You scoff, “Don’t be dramatic.”

“I’m not being dramatic.” He makes sure his hospital badge is tucked away safely in his console before making his way up to the loft, explaining, “I had a good time tonight. I wasn’t ready to leave.” He’s aware that he probably sounds like an earnest little schoolboy, but he’s telling the truth.

“I wasn’t exactly ready for you to leave either, but I think it was for a pretty good reason. Plus, it’s not like we’re not gonna see each other soon.”

Miche is greeted by Minnie when he walks in. Still laying on the couch, she raises her nose and sniffs the air as if to acknowledge him. Once the door is locked, he paces over to give her a nice scratch behind the ears, all while trying to voice the question he wants to ask you.

“So, you, uh… you’re still okay with this after learning… more about me?”

“You mean about the ex-fiancé and drinking problem?”

“Yeah,” he feels his face scrunch up. “That.”

“I mean, I’m glad I’ve been made aware ‘cause, you know, important stuff, but it doesn't scare me. I couldn’t expect you to just not have a past.”

“I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” he sighs.

“Miche, I don’t think you’ve ever made me genuinely uncomfortable, and honestly at this point, I don’t know if you could.”

He drops onto the cushion next to Minnie and kicks his shoes off, trying to let himself relax when he asks, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re just… you’re you,” is apparently the best you can come up with on the spot. Miche hears rustling and assumes you’re getting into bed, a very quiet grunt of, “Remy, move, bud,” and then you let out a long sigh. “Don’t get me wrong, you’ve tested my patience before with the whole buying me stuff without asking—”

Miche snorts then mumbles, “Yeah, not sorry.”

“And that’s what I mean. You’re so good. Like I can look back on these past couple months and know that, like, everything you’ve done has been for my well-being, and I just… I don’t know…” you exhale, apparently pondering for a moment before finishing, “I just trust you, I guess. I trust that you have your shit under control. You haven’t given me reason to not believe you don’t.”

Chest swelling, Miche can’t help but feel so incredibly fond of you. He wishes he was there with you again, laying next to you in your messy bed with your little gremlin of a dog. He wishes for a lot, and even though he knows he’s so close to getting everything he’s been wanting, he can’t help but be utterly fucking terrified.

And, he’s pretty sure you feel close to if not the exact same way.

“I just care about you, is all,” he admits. “I don’t want you to get hurt. Definitely don’t want to be the one who hurts you.”

“Do you have plans to hurt me, Miche?” you ask, and though your teasing lilt is ever-present, he can still hear the subtle seriousness in your voice.

“None whatsoever.”

“Then that’s that. I trust you not to. Now… I have study group stuff in the morning and then a bar shift tomorrow night, but…”

“Maybe we can find time to hang out this weekend?” he offers, stomach flipping at the idea.

“This weekend? Wow, that’s so fast after date one,” you say, clicking your tongue. “You must like me or something. How embarrassing.”

“Oh my god,” Miche groans, “Isn’t it your bedtime or something?”

“What are you, my mom?”

Miche sucks his teeth in response, biting back the words you’re clearly trying to bait him into saying. No, but I am your daddy. He’s not going to do it. He’s not going to rise—

“You’re dirty,” you pipe up with a giggle.

“I didn’t say anything!” he nearly shouts, breaking into a laugh. “I’m not dirty. You’re dirty. You’re the one putting these stupid ideas into my head, and for the record, that was not a thing for me until you said it a few nights ago.”

“Oh my god, I’m flattered. Will definitely be exploring that more later on.”

Gut clenching, Miche resituates himself a bit, suddenly remembering that despite how hard he was earlier this evening, he never actually got off, and that ache settles in his balls all over again.

There are many things he’d like to explore with you—hobbies and habits, and yeah, some kinks, but mostly…

Mostly Miche just wants to explore you. He wants to learn everything there is that makes you, you. And, then maybe he’ll understand himself a little better.

#miche zacharias x reader #mike zacharias x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #mels find a way #attack on titan fanfiction #aot fanfiction

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odetojeons · 4 years

Text

Until It Feels Like You’re In Heaven — Jeon Wonwoo

request: Hello do you still take requests? Your writing is amazingggg!! Thank you for existing 😭💕. Can i req a whipped dom!wonwoo x fem reader where he has a size kink and a smol gf please? I think that will be a cute concept 🥺

tags: fem and sub!reader, dom!wonwoo, size kink, tattoed and pierced jeon wonwoo just because, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex (uh idk why but I never write sex with a condom help), established wonwoo x reader, a tiiiny bit of spitting kink, very light verbal humiliation, aftercare, this goes from fluff to horny really quickly, fluff if you squint (or not?), a frankly unrealistic amount of cum, OH AND, stomach bulge 🥴

a/n: so haha I am back? with more filth? I tried adding fluff (even tho I completely forgot that the person who made the request asked for whipped wonwoo, good thing this is always in my agenda every time I write so I didn't have any problems lmfao) but I'm too much of a horny bitch and a simp for this man so,, idk? tell me what you think later! I hope you all perish— I mean, like this!

Word Count: 7826

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⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ “Aren’t you going to help?” you question, lifting a brow at your boyfriend, who’s currently sitting in one of the chairs and supporting his chin with the palm of his hand, plate of onions that should be already cut laying untouched in front of him.

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“Nope,” Wonwoo answers, giving you that kind of smile which makes you almost, almost feel less annoyed at the fact that you’ve been trying to reach something in the upper shelves for the last five minutes and he doesn’t move his ass to help you at all. “You’re just too cute trying to reach something.”

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There’s heat creeping up your neck, cheeks tinting red, and Wonwoo's smile gets bigger, shining and full of fondness. It leaves you stunned in silence for a while. It’s hard not to be in love with him. But it’s not like you try anyways.

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“J-just hurry up, aren’t you hungry?” you cough, looking away solely because you can’t stand the warmness in Wonwoo’s face without feeling like you’re going to combust any time soon.

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“I am. I can help you out,” he states simply, but doesn’t make a move. You gesticulate with your hand, pointing at him and at the rice jar in the upper shelf. “But only if you say please, though.”

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“I’m—” laughing incredulously, you roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. “Would you please get the rice jar for me, sir?”

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Wonwoo stares at you for a second too long, eyes a bit dark, and gets up to get the jar, without breaking eye contact. You instinctively make yourself smaller when his bigger and broader frame hovers over you, large enough to swallow your tiny body. The size difference has always been something you both feel incredibly turned on by.

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“So small,” he appreciates, always does, and your neck burns from the intensity of your blushing. “The cutest.”

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Wonwoo puts the rice jar in your hands, the darkness in his face melting into a beam.

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“Here it goes, little girl,” he says, going back to his chair to complete the task which he has been doing for at least ten minutes now. The way he says little girl has you dumbfounded, heart hammering against your chest. “Are you just going to stand there? Do you like being called little that much?”

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“Shut up,” you admonish, blushing furiously as you turn on your back to continue what you were doing. You just hate how everything Wonwoo does affects you so much. You’re sure this must be bad for your health.

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The two of you continue your journey through cooking and eating after you’re both done with the preparations. Things with Wonwoo are always so easy, everything feels natural and domestic and the bubbling feeling of happiness you feel whenever you’re with him lulls you to fall in love with him even deeper than before.

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The way he teases you when you’re clumsy and spill sauce over yourself, but still cleans you up with the most fond smile ever, like you’re so completely adorable he can’t help himself. Or when you put more salt in the food than you should and you know it’s not that good, but he still compliments it and tells you he loves it so much, the sincerity in his eyes makes a surge of something pull at your lower stomach.

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If Jeon Wonwoo isn’t the love of your life, you don’t know who is.

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But right now you just want the ground to eat you alive and swallow you whole, because you’re standing right in front of the bed. The one bed. To which it suddenly doesn’t look big enough, not as you remember.

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Well, it’s not like you have never shared a bed before, you have even had a shit ton of sex in this exact piece of mattress, but the thing is, it’s been a while since you last saw Wonwoo. His job required him to spend three months away, and this is the first time you came to his house ever since he came back two days ago.

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You consider throwing yourself out of the window and into the dark, miserable night, thinks your poor heart will explode otherwise.

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“I’m not going to eat you.” Wonwoo’s voice carries over from the bathroom door, startling you into action. You jerk toward the bed, jumping on it and face flushing. You had showered before him, now dressed with one of his big shirts.

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It fell all the way to your mid thigh, the size difference between the two of you making you almost drown on the fabric of his clothes. It smells nice, smells like Wonwoo, and your cheeks burn when he drinks the sight of you in with dark eyes, not even trying to hide.

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“Unless you want me to,” he adds, not helping your situation at all.

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BSHANDJAJSND?, your brain supplies.

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“Oh my god,” you admonish, yanking the blanket off the bed and just as you get in, your eyes hone in on the ink swirling up Wonwoo’s right biceps. You have seen the tattoo through the pictures he sent you before, the snake crawling up to his shoulder, head stopping at his right chest.

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This is, however, the first time you’ve seen the metal bar through one of Wonwoo’s nipples — to which you already knew the existence of, but looking in person is totally different —, heat winding in the pit of your belly as you realize the snake is looking right at that same nipple. Unfortunately for your poor heart, he’s wearing nothing but a pair of sweats, hanging low on his hips, slim waist on display.

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Wonwoo is… hot.

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There’s no other way to put it despite your best efforts. He looks like one of those Greek statues, rippling muscle and hand carved abs, the cut of his jaw too sharp to be real. Your mouth waters and you can’t look away.

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And Wonwoo has been changing. He always had the thin type of body, being slim and tall, but in the end of last year he started exchanging the lazy hours he spent gaming with animated workouts at the gym — something about the way he was wasting his precious time of life and he could be acquiring knowledge and being healthy instead of sitting in front of a computer for hours —, and holy fuck if the result wasn’t quite the damn view.

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You draw the blanket right up to your chin, back very purposefully to Wonwoo’s side of the bed as you’re still trying to stop the mild heart attack you have going on. You don’t want to see him climbing into bed for safety purposes but that doesn’t mean your heart rate doesn’t spike up when the bed dips. When Wonwoo settles down under the same blanket, your brain very enthusiastically — and meaningfully — points out that you’re only a few centimeters away and that there’s nothing separating you.

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His abs flash behind your eyes and you nearly throw the blanket off, ready to storm out of the room and sleep on the sofa instead. You let out a breath you don’t even know you’re holding when Wonwoo flicks the flight off, the room disappearing into darkness, before he turns on the red leds from under his bed.

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You feel warm all over with the fact that he still remembers you don’t like sleeping in complete darkness.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You try not to tense too much when he drapes an arm around your waist, locking you in. Your legs tangle together as he adjusts himself better, the other arm coming behind your head to serve as a pillow. Now you’re not only dying from the closeness but as well essentially drooling over the bulge of his thick biceps.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Congratulations universe for managing to make you even more desperate.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You’re not sure how long you just lie there, staring out the window, unable to fall asleep. Your brain doesn’t want to shut off, a blaring alarm of Jeon Wonwoo going off in your head.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I missed you so much,” Wonwoo says as if he read your thoughts, voice soft and filled with warmth, and you find yourself immediately melting in his arms despite your nervousness. “Thought I was going crazy without you, munchkin.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

There’s a hard squeeze in your heart. You just love so much when he calls you that.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Missed you too,” you admit with a smile, the tip of Wonwoo’s nose dragging through your hair as he inhales the smell of his own shampoo. “Missed your smell.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Just my smell?” Wonwoo teases with a light tone, caressing his free hand on your inner thigh. It was supposed to be a feather-like gesture, but the closeness between the two of you made your body oversensitive, and you find yourself moaning softly as your skin rocks with a shiver.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo tenses immediately when he hears the sound, hand stuttering to a stop. There’s a beat of what you call the most painful silence you ever had — your mind swirls with the thought that you just ruined the mood, face heating up uncontrollably at your own neediness —, before his fingers sink into the flesh of your inner thigh, startling you with the strength behind his grip.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Answer me.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You whine louder this time, the realization of his change of tone going from fond to an irrevocable order sinking wanton deep within your lower stomach. You try to close your legs, but Wonwoo’s leg stops you where it rests right in the middle of them, dangerously close to your throbbing core. You wonder if he could feel the heat emanating from it.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“N-no,” you begin, voice already shaken up. Wonwoo’s breath caresses the helix of your ear, making goosebumps surge all over your skin. “Missed y-your bed too.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Is that so?” he hums, chest vibrating where it presses against your back. “What else, munchkin?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Missed—” your voice gets caught up in your throat when he licks your helix, teeth pulling the lobe of your ear. The soft drag of his lips all over that place is making your job difficult. “M-missed all of you, hmmm.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo hums again, pleased with your answer, and leans so close to you your body gets half pinned to the bed. This way his bigger frame completely engulfs your smaller one, the difference between your sizes getting even more overwhelming now that he’s bulked up.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And you’re not the only one affected by it, because as soon as Wonwoo realizes how he almost swallows you up in this position, he downright moans right by your ear.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“So fucking small,” he tells you appreciatevely, voice one octave lower as his fingers presses on your inner thigh harder. “Missed touching you.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

There’s a shift in Wonwoo, his leg rising up between yours and stopping centimeters away from the heat of your cunt, and you can’t hold back the shiver, wants Wonwoo to press down there. When you attempt to slide Wonwoo’s hand up and off of you so then you could turn around, you’re met with a growl instead, Wonwoo bodily pinning you to the bed.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, and it makes you feel like you’re a prey just ready to be caught by the big, bad wolf. You whine softly at that thought, hand coming to grab at Wonwoo’s wrist reflexively.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Wonwoo,” is your answer, like that would explain everything. Wonwoo chuckles softly, embarrassment burning on your cheeks.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“When we called and I saw your face,” he says, barely above a whisper. “I wanted to fuck you so bad.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Suddenly, you can’t remember how to breathe, Wonwoo’s mouth on your neck, planting a soft kiss just under your ear. He nuzzles into the same spot, kisses lower and your heart shakes loud enough you think the neighbors might hear, hyperaware of every inch of your bodies touching.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I know I couldn’t, so I did it all from behind,” Wonwoo admits, sending your mind into a little haze. Of course he has been jerking off to the thought of you, but hearing him say it out loud has your panties getting soaked. “Sticking my dick in…”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo hasn’t stopped nuzzling you, in some kind of daze as he inhales your scent. There’s a hand on your hip now, holding you down, liquid heat pooling in your belly, spreading outward.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“…and fucking you mercilessly…” he continues, voice getting deeper and rougher with each word, his breath labored. “…and watching you cum endlessly… I thought I would be fine just imagining it.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“W-Won—” you start, breathless, the sound of your own voice sounding so airy leaving you embarrassed. But then finally, finally he presses his thigh into your core, your hips immediately going down to rut hard against the muscle.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Fucking drenched,” Wonwoo snarls lowly when he feels the wetness of your soaked panties dirtying the fabric of his sweatpants.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The sound makes you writhe on the bed, fists balling in the mattress.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“But seeing you, so small…” the trace of Wonwoo’s hand in your skin is light, almost like a gentle whisper as it makes a burning path up, up, up until it stops by your neck, fingers closing softly around your throat. “Makes me want to rail you, carve the shape of my big cock inside your walls.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo’s teeth sink into the skin just at the base of your neck. It’s hardly a bite, you know he could leave worse, but then Wonwoo laps at it afterwards, tender, surrenders you into moving your hips obscenely on his thigh. The way he says, knows his cock is big has heat licking your insides, and if it were anyone else saying the same thing you would be cringed, but there’s just something special about Jeon Wonwoo doing this that makes him look like the hottest man alive.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You’re addicting,” Wonwoo admits with a growl, the feeling of his touch turning possessive as he helps you ride his thigh better by a hand on your waist. “Once I get a taste I can’t stop myself from wanting more. Wanna have my way with you until you’re all mine.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Need seeps through your bones, body trembling as you try to scatter the air it has been knocked out of your lungs when Wonwoo fits his cock in the curve of your ass.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Y-you’re hard,” you comment, as if it’s not obvious, but it has been so long since the last time you felt his bulge pressing against you that it makes you desperate. “You’re so hard.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Who’s fault do you think it is?” Wonwoo questions, groaning when you sway your hips from side to side on his cock.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Can we…” you trail off, hiding your face in the pillow. “Y-you know?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Nope, you gotta be more specific,” he says with a teasing smile, and you smack him in the arm. Wonwoo laughs before his voice gets serious. “Say it.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

This switch of him turning on and off between a sweet boyfriend to the man who doms you never fails to give you a whiplash.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Can we— Can w-we fuck?” you ask shyly, wanting the ground to swallow you whole. You have no idea why you are being this shy.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Hmm, it depends,” Wonwoo hums like he’s considering the options. You turn to look at him, mortified, but he only laughs at your indignation. “Are you going to be a good girl for me?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You blush furiously at the question, face turning to look away as you mumble a yes, but then Wonwoo’s grabbing at your jaw and yanking your head back in place until you’re staring right in the deepness of his eyes, the intensity of them stunting you into complete silence.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he orders, leaving no room for arguments, and you nod your head quickly at that. “Out loud.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Y-yes,” you hurry to obey, watching satisfaction curl all over his face. “‘M always a good girl.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I don’t think so, munchkin,” Wonwoo grins, wicked and teasing, and you brace yourself for whatever is going to happen this night. “Sometimes you’re so desperate and impatient you can’t even wait for me before fucking yourself with those plastic toys of yours.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Wonwoo,” and you’re unable to look away even when shame burns all over your body. “H-how did you—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“How did I know?” your sentence morphs into a moan when Wonwoo presses his thigh so hard against you cunt it has your body jumping a little. “You think I wouldn’t feel how you’re more loose when I fucked you? You think I don’t notice the way you look at me?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo is mercilessly dragging your hips up and down his leg, your whines sounding high and sweet in your own ears.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You’re oblivious even to yourself,” he tells you, tone rough as he ruts against your ass. Your heart lurches in your chest, Wonwoo’s words like a hot coal in the pit of your belly, erupting into flames. You want to squeeze your eyes shut, cunt pulsing with arousal. “Even today, the way you were staring at me…”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

But then, Wonwoo’s touch is gone. His hands leave your hips, thigh frees you from the pressure, and the warmth seems so far now. You turn, complaint already at the tip of your tongue, but Wonwoo’s faster, rougher as he manhandles you on your back and hovers over your body, caging you in with his arms.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You looked like a prey who has just been caught into the wolf’s den,” he smiles at you, wicked and cruel as he grabs your jaw and pushes your head back. “Like you wanted me to break you in until it feels like you’re in heaven.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

There’s a breath against your bare neck, his groan hitting your skin when he bites it.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Or eat you up until there’s nothing left in you that doesn’t belong to me,” you’re definitely not expecting the moan that escapes Wonwoo’s mouth, so affected and deep it’s got all the hairs in your nape standing up, every fiber of your body telling you to submit. “Fuck, and it turns me on so much.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You make a sound out of neediness, hands reaching for Wonwoo. He goes easily, body pressing into yours as he crashes your lips together. Wonwoo kisses you like he wants to conquer you, licking into the seam of your mouth and teeth scraping at your bottom lip just so he could soothe the pain later with his tongue. Your head spins with the intensity of it, it’s messy and there’s too much spit and teeth, but that only makes it even more addicting.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

But Wonwoo doesn’t kiss you enough today. He almost never does when he’s feeling like that — possessive, mean, wicked even, when he needs you to know your damn place —, wants to ebb the pleasure away when you’re starting to get hotter until it’s replaced by pure desperation and you can’t do anything else other than beg for him to give in to you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

So that’s what you do, staring up at his eyes trained on you as if you’re a prey.⠀

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Please,” you start, voice caught into a moan when Wonwoo’s fingers sink into your jaw and his mouth falls ajar, like the sound of you saying this particular word gives a physical stroke to his cock. “P-please, fuck me. Wanna— Wanna belong t-to you.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And that’s enough. That’s enough, that’s enough, Wonwoo wants, you want, and he’ll give that to you since he has always been a weak man for your begging. There’s a fraction of seconds that he thinks he might pass out with all the blood rushing from his head to his other head, cock throbbing in his sweatpants.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Don’t know how so much eagerness fits into this little body of yours,” Wonwoo murmurs against your mouth, his hand squeezing your face. You find yourself parting your mouth open, whining, pliant and overwhelmed as Wonwoo slips his tongue in again, kissing you filthy. The scent of his familiar cologne is so sharp, surrounding you and leaving your mind dazed until all you can think is Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo. When he pulls back this time, Wonwoo pushes his thumb into your mouth, eyes half-lidded as he watches you swirl your tongue around it, sucking it further into your mouth.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You moan around it, watching Wonwoo’s every reaction, the way his breath hitches, shoulders tensing. There’s a shift on the bed, Wonwoo moving up and up and up and you can’t breathe because now the bulge pressing against the fabric of his clothes is standing proudly right in front of your face, Wonwoo almost straddling your chest. You let the realization that he’s going to fuck your mouth sink deep within your core, and try not to show how deeply affected you are by the idea.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You fail, of course, hips lifting off of the bed and falling down again, biting around the finger inside of your mouth that keeps you from taking a better look in the place you are dying to see.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“That desperate to suck me off, baby?” Wonwoo asks, and you flush, hate how you love the humiliated burn, how it makes you wetter. You’re too embarrassed to throw something back at Wonwoo, gaze dropping to his erect cock the best you can. He pushes your head back up, making you look at him instead. “Do you wanna see it?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I do,” you reply, a little too fast for your own good, and it only serves for Wonwoo to laugh at your neediness. You debate if you’re as red as you think you are, the burn in your cheeks spreading all the way down to your neck.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Are you sure you’re ready for that?” Wonwoo’s tone is almost condescending, still playful, like he doesn’t think you can even handle the sight of his cock, and you like how it makes your cunt twitch and ache. It’s as if you enjoy the belittlement, enjoy the way Wonwoo wants you to prove yourself.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I’m,” you start, swallowing, “I’m ready.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo’s smile is a touch dark, nearly a sneer, but his hand leaves your mouth to hook a thumb in the waistband of his pants. You nearly drool. He pulls on the fabric until his cock is free, slapping against your left cheek and smearing precum on your face. Your head spins, realising that even this part of Wonwoo’s body seemed to have grown bigger. Maybe it’s your imagination, haven’t actually seen it in real life for the past three months, but the thickness is intimidating.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The best intimidating possible.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your heart thuds in your chest, unable to look away from his cock. There’s spit collecting on your tongue, embarrassment fighting against your desire to please. Leaning forward, you suckle the tip into your mouth, making a pleased sound when you taste the salty tang of precum.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo leans back a bit, wanting to assess your face better, and the taut lines of his body contorts in an even hotter way with the new position. You moan again, staring at the piercing in Wonwoo’s nipple and the head of the inked snake looking at it, and sucks on the head, tongue pushing along the underside. Your body throbs with your own heated desire.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You wrap a hand around the base, gut twisting hotly when you realise you can’t even get your fingers all the way around — no matter how many times you notice this, they all make you feel equally needy. And you’re not the only one affected by it, Wonwoo’s hips kicking forward and cock thrusting inside of your mouth, the growl he lets out going straight to your core.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Fuck,” he says, breath audible enough to echo inside the room. “I will ruin you.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The confession has your body arching for a few seconds, sucking hard on the tip of Wonwoo’s cock until he’s moaning at the feeling. He takes a fistful of your hair, but you push against the hold so you could take more of it into your mouth.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Quit it,” Wonwoo demands, your displeased whine making his hold grow firmer. “Do as you’re told or you might not get my cock at all tonight.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He pulls you off, your pants loud and labored.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Did I make myself clear?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Yes, sir,” you add just for the teasing — but mostly because you want Wonwoo to punish you for making him lose his beloved control —, feeling pleased as you watch the clear change of expressions going on in Wonwoo’s face. His eyes darken impossibly more, eyebrows frowning and then there’s a hand on your neck.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your mouth goes dry as soon as his fingers close around your throat, body writhing and mind going into submission mode.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Filthy little slut,” Wonwoo snarls, face suddenly close, and then he’s spitting into your open mouth and you feel like you will come very soon. You flinch, eyes shutting on reflex, and then moan. “Want me to punish you, don’t you?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You don’t say anything, can’t say anything, but you hope the look in your eyes answers his question. It probably does, because there’s a tiny little smirk playing on the edge of Wonwoo’s lips before he kisses you, softer than you could ever imagine he would be in this moment.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I love you,” he breathes, the sudden confession making a different kind of burn itch your throat. You know very well that when Wonwoo tells you that I’m the middle of sex then it’s because this will be a passionate fucking. One of those that he keeps your body so close you think you might become one with him, one of those he kisses you so gently one moment only to treat you roughly in the other, one of those he wants to make you fall apart, crumble and cry and even so, it will be full of love and care and sweetness. “I love you so much.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo doesn’t wait for your answer. Doesn’t need to, he knows your heart belongs to him.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Say ah for me, sweetheart,” Wonwoo instructs and you obey, mouth hanging open, tongue out. Wonwoo slaps his cock against it, precum dirtying your tongue as the slap slap slap of his cock hitting your mouth fills the heavy air of the room. He even traces the tip over your upper lip, smearing precum along your cheek when he slaps your face with it before placing his cock right back on your waiting tongue. “Put this mouth to better use.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You do, eager to do as you’re told after Wonwoo’s confession, blood singing from his praise and his disparagement alike. You sink down onto it as far as you can take it, nearly gagging when it hits the back of your throat. Wonwoo drowns out a broken “fuck” above you, stroking your cheek and moving further in the bed to lessen the awkward twist of your neck.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You look so good with my cock in your mouth,” Wonwoo breathes, voice strained as you suck him off, head bobbing. He brushes your hair back, little groans and growls escaping him every time his cock hits the back of your throat, you swallowing around it, or when you speed up, fucking your mouth on Wonwoo’s length. “Such a pretty little cocksucker, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You blush, heart hammering in your chest with the compliment, but he closes a fist in your hair and makes you stop all movements.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Gonna fuck your mouth,” Wonwoo starts, holding your wrist with his free hand and putting your fingers above his thigh. You know that it means if you want me to stop, tap twice, and it makes heat coil in your belly. “until you gag.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You moan a bit uncontrollably around his cock, legs kicking in the bed at the affirmation, and Wonwoo is staring at you with a look you can’t quite describe. It makes you ashamed of being so eager but at the same time proud of being his little cockslut.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo holds you in place, hips bucking into your mouth. He goes slow at first, wanting you to get used with the feeling because it has been a while since the last time you sucked him off. It is short lived, as soon as you look up at him and nod — the best you could with your movements being kind of restricted —, his thrusts turn sharp and fast, your jaw aching from how long you had Wonwoo’s fat cock in your mouth.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You moan, one of your hands still working up and down along Wonwoo’s shaft as he fucks into you, tears beginning to prickle at the corners of your eyes. He falls a bit forward when you start gagging a little, throat convulsing around his thickness, and he sprawls his fingers in the wall for support.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Fuck fuck fuck, shit,” Wonwoo breathes, voice gravelly, his grip in your hair getting tighter and tighter. Tingles spark down your spine, wetness pouring out of you and soaking your panties even more and you want so desperately to come, to be fucked, but you want to please him first.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo’s thrusts begin to turn erratic as he fucks your mouth, a growl erupting out of him on a particularly hard thrust, and then he’s pulling away. You look at him, mind in a haze, but still dumbfounded. His breath is labored and he looks like he’s having a hard time keeping together, hips thrusting into the air. It boosts your ego to see him this messed up because of you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Did so well for me, sweetheart,” Wonwoo tells you, voice strained from effort but still full of fondness, and you feel butterflies dancing in your stomach at the praise. It seems like he wants his orgasm to ebb away. At the look you’re giving him, he adds: “Wanna cum with you.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You mewl at the thought, watching him position himself between your legs again and kissing you slowly. Wonwoo caresses your cheek with a gentle thumb, other hand tracing a feather-like path down your body. His fingers brush against your nipple, the whine you let out being swallowed by Wonwoo’s greedy mouth, and he sneaks his hand under your shirt just as his kisses fly to your neck.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And then Wonwoo’s sucking. Hard.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

It caughts you off guard, hips lifting off of the bed and thigh pressing tightly against Wonwoo’s cock, his groan being muffled by your skin. He bites, suckles and kisses the particular spot underneath your jaw, so far up your neck you won’t be able to hide it, especially because it’s summer. And you feel warm all over, how he always remembers exactly your pleasure point, the place that has your head spinning with pleasure.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your hands fly to his hair, cunt throbbing with need when he tongues at the purple hickey, and it’s throbbing, pulsating with how hard he sucked. It leaves you breathless, not having time to recover when Wonwoo pulls your shirt up until he can get one nipple into his mouth.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Wonwon, fuck,” you whimper, body oversensitive with all that has been going on, and Wonwoo growls at the nickname, hand coming to pinch your other nipple like he’s telling you how much this affects him. “Please—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo bites at it, tongue coming to soothe the pain later, and you’re sure the grip you have on his hair must be painful, but he says nothing; only looks more intent on making you moan. Wonwoo busies himself with sucking hickeys all over the place as one of his hands continues to descend down your body, thumb pressing in a spot by your hips that has your back arching and a desperate whine being pulled out of you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Down and down, his fingers then slips inside your penties, brushing across your clit so lightly that it has your whole body rocking with shivers.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

But then, Wonwoo’s body goes completely still. You feel him tensing under your palms, heat already flooding your face when you know he feels it, feels the way you’re already stretched open for him.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You—” he starts but stops himself, pushing a finger inside for great measure. Wonwoo growls when he meets almost no resistance, face lifting from where it rests on your chest to look at you. “When?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The intensity of his voice leaves your mouth dry.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“E-earlier, in the— in the s-shower,” you confess, voice quiet, and you can’t look away, Wonwoo’s eyes pinning you to your spot.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Hah,” he states simply, a sound of pleasant surprise, and adds another finger inside. Wonwoo pushes them to the hilt, until his knuckles brush your pelvis. You moan, head thrown back at the sudden, but welcomed intrusion. “Acting all nervous around me but this is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He gyrates his hand, pushing hard and without mercy, right before he adds another finger, this time more slowly. It burns a little, his fingers way bigger than yours, but you love the slight pain.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Did you come into my house knowing I would fuck you?” Wonwoo asks, knows the answers but does it anyway. He moves his hand a little, waiting for your to be more comfortable with the sensation of his fingers, but as soon as your frown turns upside down, Wonwoo has no restrains whatsoever, fucking into you fast and sharp. “Fingered yourself knowing that I would split you open on my big cock?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You can’t even think straight, hips rising off of the bed, but Wonwoo holds your waist with his free hand and pins them down hard. Your upper body lifts with this, back arching and legs kicking everywhere as you can’t stop the loud moans slipping through your lips, doesn’t even care about the neighbors as your nails sink into Wonwoo’s back to the point it might leave tiny crescent moons all over it.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Did you come back then?” Wonwoo continues, pace unforgiving even when tears well up into your eyes. He trusts you to use your safeword if needed as much as you trust him to use his. “Did you?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You struggle to answer, voice being surrendered to moans and whines and whimpers and it’s hard to focus when he’s hitting your sweet spot with the tip of his fingers.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Ah! Ah, hmmm, f-fuck, please Won— Wonwon,” you try, can’t even understand how you still manage to get red when you realise Wonwoo is looking at you with so much desire. The point you both most like about your relationship is that Wonwoo is the dom, but he knows you have him in the palm of your tiny hands. “I, ah, d-din’t. Di— Didn’t want to, fuck, please— c-come without you—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo pulls his fingers out at that, your cunt clenching around nothing as he goes lighting fast to take both of your clothes off, grab your waist and flip you on your stomach just as he reaches for the nightstand to grab what you know very well it’s a bottle of lube. He pulls your hips up until you’re face down, ass up on the bed, the hurry in all of this only sending desperation all over your body, and the sound of the cap being opened has butterflies in your stomach.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Yeah? Fuck,” Wonwoo sounds a mess, fingers hurrying to close a fist on his cock and jerk it off furiously to spread the lube better, the wet head nudging against your rim. “Fuck, shit, I wanna fuck you so bad.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Do it,” you beg. “Please.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And who is he to deny what you want?

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo pushes inside you slowly despite his hunger, knows he’s big and there’s an alarming size difference between the both of you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your hands clench into fists and it feels like you’re being impaled onto Wonwoo’s cock, going deeper than any cock you ever taken before. Tears cling to your lashes as a small jolt of pain runs up your spine, the lube easing Wonwoo’s way in. Overall you’re proud of yourself, haven taken him before, more times than you can count, and you accommodate his cock like a pro.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your chest heaves, no amount of air feels like enough as Wonwoo’s cock all but punches everything out of you. You’re biting at the pillow by the time the last of it pushes into you, a haze surrounding your mind because it feels so good.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo’s groan transforms into a moan once he’s buried all the way into you, hips flush against your ass and spreading you open so wide and so deep, you would think you might break if you didn’t know any better. You gasp, back arching downward as you take your time to adjust to the large intrusion.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo kisses your shoulder tenderly, waiting for you to grow used to the feeling. He can be rough when it comes to bed, but he always is mindful of you no matter how impatient and desperate he is. There’s this soft feeling going on inside you, mixing with your pleasure and it only serves to make you more needy.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo doesn’t move for a while, hot breath falling against your neck as he stands behind you. You feel surrounded — his scent everywhere, the pulse of the hickeys he carved on your skin, the press of his long fingers on your waist —, your submission for Wonwoo’s eyes only.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You nod at him.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

A lick at your neck is all the warning you get before Wonwoo pulls out so very slowly, cock dragging against your walls and rim. It feels like forever, you whining at the sensation, and then you’re being slammed back into.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Ah!” you gasp, eyes blurry as you struggle for air. You moan as Wonwoo drags himself back out again, and thrusts right back in and groans at the feeling. “Y-yes—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“So good,” Wonwoo growls, close to inhumane as he continues with that pace. “So fucking good.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Eventually, Wonwoo doesn’t seem to be able to go slow anymore, thrusts turning sharper and harder, his pace unrelenting. You find yourself almost screaming through it, so overwhelmed by the size of him — a good overwhelmed, the best overwhelmed —, but the way you feel so full and the exponential pleasure leaves you numb to any other thought.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo, your mind seems to chant, fucked open mercilessly by your boyfriend.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Taking cock like a pro, aren’t you, sweetheart?” Wonwoo says, stops for a second, adjusts his hips, and then slams back right into your sweet spot, like he knows where it is by heart. Your body lurches forward, bed slamming against the wall. Hands reaching to hold onto something, you scramble against the sheats until one of them fists it and the other holds the pillow for dear life. “You’re gonna wake the whole hall, screaming like that.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You have enough of a decency to feel ashamed about it, but it’s not like neither of you actually care. If anything, Wonwoo fucks you harder, hips jamming inside you until your throat hurts from all the noises you’re making.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Please, p-please— I wanna— I h-have to— Fuck, ah!” you’re not even sure about what you’re begging for, Wonwoo pulling your hips to meet his thrusts half way. You love this, feeling like a ragdoll, being thrown around and only able to take what he gives to you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Good little girl,” Wonwoo croons, his voice rough. Your skin glistens with sweat, the shimmering red light reflecting on it. “Looking so beautiful taking my cock.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You’re not sure what compels you after he says that but you reach down, hand smoothing down your abdomen because you feel like Wonwoo is spearing you open. But you go completely tense, squeezing Wonwoo so hard he stutters with a moan, because under your palm there is the outline of his cock protruding against your lower belly. The feeling makes you so overwhelmed that you can’t hold it in, whithe pleasure flooding you as you end up coming, eyes rolling to the back of your head and you’re crying all the way through it.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You’re coming?” Wonwoo deadpans, sounding surprised and angry at the same time. “Holy shit, you’re coming untouched and without my permission? What were you think—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo’s complaint immediately dies down when you bring a trembling hand to grab his wrist and put his fingers in the cause of your orgasm. There’s a beat of silence, the both of you completely still, and then Wonwoo is growling the most animalistic growl you ever heard him do, the sheer intensity of it rocking all the way to your bones. He presses his hips so tightly into yours it has you sobbing.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Fuck,” it’s all he says, tone two octaves lower and sounding dangerous, doesn’t even have it in him to punish you. “Fuck.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

It’s like the caged beast he keeps so carefully locked deep within himself started to surface. Wonwoo pushes your head down on the mattress, the other hand still on your belly. He pulls out until the tip and then slams back inside, as hard as he can, and you downright scream at the feeling, the oversensitiviness adding up to your pleasure.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

There’s another few seconds of silence, and then Wonwoo is fucking you brutally. His moans echo through the room, so completely desperate that it has you wailing, sobbing, crying desperate pleas for more.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Look at that,” Wonwoo says, hand pressing harder against the bulge in your stomach. “Pushed my big cock into you until your insides were forced to make room for it.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He grabs your arm and yanks you up, your back pressing against his chest and an arm circling around your waist. The other comes up to squeeze your left breast as you practically sit on his thighs. You moan at the feeling of his pierced nipple dragging against your skin every time he fucks up into you, your body only held in place because of the firm grip Wonwoo has on you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Sobbing, you feel like you’re losing yourself in the sensations, Wonwoo’s cock pounding into your cunt and his voice by your ear and the burn of his hips hitting your ass — by now it must be all red, the marks probably going to linger for some time. You can’t hold yourself together anymore, mouth open and drooling, tears clinging to your lashes, staccato moans falling from your lips that break on every thrust. You’re limp against Wonwoo, can’t even fuck back, letting him have his way with you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Drooling all over yourself for my cock,” Wonwoo says, fucks in deep against your sweet spot and mouths at the side of your neck. “Because of me, right? Tell me.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Y-you— yours, yours, please,” your head falls back on his shoulder, hand pressing tightly in the shape of his cock in your stomach, and at this point you don’t even know what you’re doing anymore.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I’ve broken you in, fuck.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And he did, really. He has broken you in, has you crying on his cock.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You belong to who?” Wonwoo pressed his hips flush on your ass, grinds hard enough for your body to be sent forward. A short few seconds so you can take a breath — or at least try to. “Hm? Who’s fucking you this good?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“W-Wonwoo, Wonwon, you, please,” you cry out as he starts to fuck you mercilessly again, the brutal pace punching moans out of you. “Ah, ah, ah, p-please, haaah, I’m y-yours— yours, b-belong to, hmmm, to you only, please!”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Yeah,” Wonwoo echoes, thrusts turning erratic and groans morphing into moans. “Mine.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I can’t — I’m g-gonna—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Come for me.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And it’s enough for you. Your muscles tense, toes curling as hot, white pleasure surges through your body and floods you until you fall limp on the bed, hips only up because Wonwoo is holding them tightly. You clench around his cock involuntarily, his groan muffled by your hair and he’s coming, Wonwoo’s cock twitching inside you as thick spurts of come fill you to the brim. They seem to be endless, his spunk filling you up until it’s dripping out and down your thighs.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You don’t remember much of what happens later. Your mind spins and then you fall into a most needed slumber.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You wake up a bit disoriented, having no idea how much has passed since you fell asleep, but you realise you’re all cleaned up and dressed, head resting in Wonwoo’s — thankfully, for the sake of your precious pussy — clothed chest as he uses his cellphone. He smells clean too, hair still a little bit wet, and you smile thinking that the shower you both took before going to bed was useless.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You’re up?” comes Wonwoo’s question when he feels your lips moving against him, placing his phone somewhere on the bed and circling his arms around you. You move your head, looking up at him with fondness.⠀

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Hey, baby,” you breathe out, reaching to peck him in the lips once. He smiles, that kind of smile that leaves you breathless with love.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Hey, my love,” Wonwoo laughs when you blush at the pet name. It’s so sweet and endearing, you always feel warm whenever he says it. “I see you still get all red when I call you that.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Shut up,” you swat at his arm, Wonwoo’s following laugh sounding like the best music you ever heard. “How much did I sleep?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Not much,” he presses you tighter against him. “I think one hour? Something like that.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Thanks for taking care of me,” you say, legs tangling with his and the smile never leaving your lips.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Of course, my love. Always will take care of you,” Wonwoo nuzzles your hair and inhales. “Got kind of surprised that I managed to fuck you into unconsciousness.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Wonwoo,” you mortify with a laugh, hitting his chest, but he only giggles at you. He giggles. Your heart might explode soon.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“What? Can’t I be happy that I pleasured my tiny girlfriend the way she deserves to?” Wonwoo says, and it sounds like a joke, but when you look up at him again to make a retort, the reverence in his eyes surrenders you speechless.⠀

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He stares at you with so much admiration and love, like you’re the most beautiful thing ever.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I love you,” you say instead, cheeks hurting from the way you’re smiling, and Wonwoo seems to be caught off guard because he’s blushing. Wonwoo’s blushing. He’s so cute you want to die.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Shut up and go back to sleep,” he coughs, pushing your head against his chest and you laugh at this shyness. “I love you too.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Yes. The warmness of his hands, the beat of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest, the love in his eyes, the sweetness of his words — you missed everything about Jeon Wonwoo.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

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dxringred · 2 years

Note

ok first, you're a GENIUS for both the werewolf and batb au. like truly blessing the ronance fandom w/ your ideas. and second: in your breakdown of the progression of robin and nancy's dynamic as batb, i'm wondering what's the tipping point that shifts them from instinctive hatred to bregrudgingly coexisting. like, is there a final straw that makes them relent and agree to be less hostile than enemies? and in the same vein, is there an event that makes either of them start to consider each other as potential friends/more than friends? sorry for bothering you w/ sm text!

i think, for a while, they have no choice but to unhappily coexist. try as they might to avoid each other, they somehow manage to do a lot of the opposite despite the castle's size, and it often results in one of them getting upset. nancy, repressed as ever, is annoyed at robin just for being there, and robin is annoyed at nancy for being annoyed with her lmao. so there's some arguing and some snide comments. i think it would all go to shit when the urge to go snooping in the west wing finally gets the better of robin.

she wanders the dark halls with their defaced paintings, climbs the winding staircase up the tower, sees the pink rose shining in its bell jar, and- her eyes meet nancy's, there's a breath of silence, and then nancy goes insane. "i told you the west wing is off limits," she growls in a way that makes robin's knees buckle and her lungs close up. "was taking the rest of my castle away from me not enough for you? get out! now!"

robin, whose mouth moves faster than her brain, naively, unwisely, tries, "but i-"

nancy screams. "i said get out!" robin doesn't realize nancy's thrown something at her until it shatters against the wall just beside her ear. "get out!" so, robin does. she runs all the way back down the stairs, all the way through the west wing, and all the way through the castle to the main doors. she hauls them open, races down the path to the gate, and uh-oh! you forgot about the wolves, robin!

she backpedals in a panic and trips over her own uncoordinated feet, putting herself at the mercy of the wolves as they bare down upon her. then, out of nowhere, the blade of a sword glints in the moonlight as it comes swinging out of the dark and slashes at the nearest wolf. who else to her rescue but queen nancy? a cold-hearted bitch worthy of her moniker that robin had thought didn't have a selfless cell in her body, and yet here she is, getting clawed at by wolves in her place. when she finally retreats enough for them to fade into the shadows again, she falls to her knees, exhausted and bloody, and there's only robin around to wordlessly carry her back into the castle and treat her wounds ;)

that's when they start to consider the potential of something more. robin especially.

#asks #ronance #batb au

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howyoumakemeseemyself · 7 years

Note

What are your headcanons for Peter and Shelly and then as parents !

// bury me in peter/shelley feels, i am fucking dying and Living all at once.

cw pregnancy under the cut / @gypsylobo

- it’s harped on like some huge tragedy basically her entire life that she won’t be able to carry children. for years she felt guilty about it, but something clicked in her brain when she was a teenager and from that point on, didn’t see it as a ‘curse’ or anything to be ashamed of. she doesn’t think about kids or motherhood or anything until she and peter have been together and on their own a long while. adoption is the obvious choice, and that’s how their daughter wednesday comes into their lives ♥

- and then miracle baby august shows up like a year later, leaving months of morning sickness and cravings for extremely rare steak smothered in ranch in his wake. peter’s really good about taking care of shell (and wednesday, who’s equal parts confused and horrified by this whole process)

- shelley fully embraces her role as a mother once they have wednesday and that never stops. even though she was coming into toddler-hood, shelley was always holding her and talking to her and reading to her. it only intensifies when she gets pregnant with august

- family full moon camping trips!!!! peter the wolf being super protective + loving of his babies@!!!!

- they both totally cried wednesday’s first day of preschool ok bless. then they were a mess at august’s first day bc they didn’t even have a young bab distraction to come home to. they didn’t know what to do with themselves and that was a weird and scary feeling for them (spoiler; they boned it out in shelley’s office.)

- shelley gets wednesday into sailor moon at a young age bc good role models and cute cats and bright colors!! (and important lessons about friendship!) august kinda likes it too, though he’s pretty sure they stole all their ideas from power rangers.

- along with this; CUTE halloween featuring wednesday as chibi moon and shelley as sailor moon 😍😍😍😍😍😍

- even when she’s angry, shelley doesn’t yell (the disappointed low-voiced talking is much worse) if the kids are being teenaged idiots about cops, or are being disrespectful to their mother, peter will yell but he’ll probably feel bad about it after.

- in addition to her successful career as a print author, she keeps one of those mommy blogs bc she’s constantly in awe by peter and their kiddos. she uses pseudonyms though, and takes limited pictures until they’re older.

#gypsylobo #// aAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaa #; [ something jars my brain; when I close my eyes it goes away ]#v; [ he thinks you're beautiful; i think you're beautiful too ]

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tobesolonely · 4 years

Text

apartment 41

hi y’all! this is my very VERY late submission for @meetmeinfleetwood ‘s “To Lovers” challenge (thank u miss sadie for even still accepting this LOL) but here is some good ol fashioned strangers to lovers with the line, “will you stay the night?” . :D enjoy everyone!

warnings: mentions of alcohol, intoxication, smut :)

word count: ~5.2k

my ko-fi! thank you :)

There were many things you loved about living on your own. You loved that your apartment was always clean. You loved that at the end of a long day, you could come back and brood in peace. You loved walking around in nothing but your underwear without the fear of anyone seeing you. You did things when you wanted, how you wanted. As a self-proclaimed introvert, there was nothing you loved more than living by yourself.

However, during slightly inconvenient moments like these, you wished you had someone else in the apartment with you.

You swore you’d been trying to get your favorite jar of pasta sauce open for at least the past ten minutes. It had been a long day at work, and at the moment all you wanted to do was heat the entire jar of sauce, boil a bunch of pasta, and call it a night. You were growing beyond frustrated–– you even contemplated just breaking the jar open. Ultimately, you decided against it lest you be met with a mouthful of glass.

Feeling defeated, you pick up your phone in frustration and hurriedly punch in your father’s number. The phone rings twice before he answers. “Hello? What’s up, hun?”

“Dad, what should I do if I can’t get this jar open? Like, it’s seriously glued shut,” you set it down on the counter probably a little too hard considering it was a glass jar. “I’m so hungry.”

“Did you try running it under hot water?”

You did.

“Hm. Try getting a good grip on it with a dish towel or something?”

Of course, you did.

“Well, I’m not driving over there just to open a jar for you,” your dad pauses. “You have neighbors, don’t you? Why don’t you knock on one of their doors?”

“Isn’t that weird?”

“No weirder than asking to borrow a cup of sugar.”

You thank your dad for the suggestion and hang up with him shortly after. He was right. You just needed someone to quickly open the jar for you and then you’d be back in your apartment, secluded from society until the next morning when you went into work. Besides, you’d been in your apartment for roughly three months now and you didn’t have a relationship with any of your neighbors. You figured now was as good a time as any to at least meet the person who lived directly across from you.

You slide on your slippers and clear the few steps it takes to reach your neighbor’s door. A faded ‘41’ was on their door, and a cheeky mat that read, ‘Did you call first?’ was at your feet.

You tried racking your brain for any memory of what your neighbor may look like, but you were drawing a blank. You were more to yourself than you initially thought you were and made a silent vow to become more social from this point on. You situate the jar of pasta sauce under your arm before placing two firm knocks against the door. Moments later, the door is flung open and you’re met with the smell of something delicious cooking, and a handsome, tall man donning a dirty apron.

“Hi, is everything alright?” he has a concerned look on his face as he looks over the top of your head and into your apartment.

“I— This is a little embarrassing,” you mumble, feeling your body grow warm. “I live by myself and I’ve been trying to get this jar of pasta sauce open for at least twenty minutes and I can’t. Do you think you can?”

His mouth slowly turns upwards into a smile before finally nodding, reaching out his hand to grab the jar of pasta sauce from you. “It’s pasta night at your place too, hmm?” His tongue is poked out of the corner of his mouth as he focuses on the task at hand.

“Yeah,” you reply. “I’m just gonna heat up the entire jar of sauce, boil some spaghetti noodles, and call it a night.”

The pop! of the jar causes you to jump slightly. “That doesn’t sound like very good pasta.”

You retrieve the pasta sauce from him, quietly thanking him. “It gets the job done.”

Your neighbor hums in agreement. “‘M sure it does. If you ever wanna taste some really good pasta though, y’know where I’ll be.”

“I do,” you nod. “Well, thank you again. I’ll let you go back to making your pasta sauce that is just way better than mine.”

He lets out a loud laugh. “I appreciate it. It wasn’t any problem at all, I’m here most evenings if you ever need help opening anything else, uh…” He trails off.

“Y/N.”

“Y/N. Beautiful name. I’m Harry, by the way.”

You look down at the dirty hallway carpet, a wide smile on your face. “Thank you, Harry. It was nice to finally meet you, by the way.”

“You too. Have a good night.”

You give him one more smile before turning on your heels and walking back inside your apartment, gently shutting the door. You quickly look out the peephole and catch him just as he’s closing his door, a dimpled-grin on his face.

It was Friday night when you finally got the chance to speak with him again. You were sitting on your kitchen stool nursing a glass of wine and waiting for your frozen pizza to heat in the oven when you heard someone coming down the hallway. As you had been doing all week since your interaction with Harry, you set your glass of wine down and shuffle over to your peephole, eyes scanning the small amount of hallway that was visible.

Harry comes into view seconds later, four overflowing bags of groceries precariously balanced along the length of his arms.

“Fuck.” You hear him mutter to himself. He attempts to reach in his pocket for his keys but once he realizes he can’t do so without setting at least one bag of groceries down, he lets out a loud huff in what you assume to be annoyance. You scuttle to your shoe rack and slip your shoes on before quickly flinging your door open.

“Hi! Need help?”

Harry jumps and you both watch as the contents of the bag he was getting ready to set down spill at his feet. “Now I do,” he’s already picking his groceries off the floor. “You scared the shit out of me. Also, were you watching me?”

Your face grows warm. “I heard someone coming down the hallway so I wanted to see who it was.”

“Oh, really?” Harry questions, pausing to look up at you. “You came out of your place so quickly, felt like I was bein’ watched or something.”

You know he’s teasing you but you can’t help but feel a little embarrassed that he caught onto what you were doing so quickly. Instead of dignifying his statement with an answer, you bend down and begin helping him pick up his spilled groceries. His hand grazes yours lightly as you both reach for a can of black beans, now slightly dented. It lingers for a moment before he retracts it to retrieve a different item. A quick, side-eyed glance reveals that his cheeks are tinged red.

“What are you making for dinner?” You ask him, standing up and dusting off the knees of your leggings.

“Uh, veggie chili. S’one of my favorites–– hey, is something burning?”

Your eyes widen and you abruptly turn away from Harry without so much as a goodbye, hurrying toward your kitchen that was starting to grow foggy from smoke produced by your oven. You were so preoccupied with helping Harry gather up his spilled groceries that you had totally forgotten you had a frozen pizza in the oven and if the smell was any indication of its current state, it was most likely inedible at this point.

Reaching for the oven mitt you kept next to the knives on the counter, you open the oven and fan the smoke out of your face, holding back a gag from the burnt smell. Your fire alarm immediately goes off once you open the oven and Harry appears a second later, a concerned look on his face. He looks around for your smoke detector and once he sees it he stands on his tiptoes to turn it off. You set your now blackened pizza on top of the oven and turn on the microwave fan. Harry’s already opening windows around your apartment, fanning the air with a throw pillow from your couch.

“Thanks,” you mumble, a wave of embarrassment washing over your body. You feared that Harry probably thought you were the most incompetent person on this planet–– first, you couldn’t get a jar open, and now here you are nearly setting your apartment on fire. “Guess I should’ve set a timer, huh?”

“Yeah, ‘spose you should’ve,” he replies. “It’s okay, though. ‘M about to get started on dinner, you can join me? If you’d like, that is. Maybe you’ll have a new recipe so you can stop eatin’ all this frozen shit.”

“Leave my frozen foods out of this,” you playfully scold him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Thank you for the invite though, that would be great, actually. I’m gonna get this cleaned up and then I’ll be right over?”

“Sounds good,” he neatly situates your pillow back on the couch. “I’ll see you in a bit, Y/N. Door will be unlocked.”

Once Harry’s gone, you move into action, quickly tossing the pizza into the trashcan before running to your bathroom. You try to remember if you brushed your teeth earlier that day but you can’t, so you brush them again just to be safe. You hastily examine yourself in the mirror before deciding you weren’t going to do anything more, not wanting to come off as trying too hard. You were almost one hundred percent certain Harry was just being neighborly–– nothing indicated that he found you attractive, so you didn’t want to make it too obvious that you found him to be the most stunning man you’ve ever seen in your life.

Locking your door, you clear the distance from your welcome mat to his in five steps flat, and take a deep breath before letting yourself in.

It didn’t take long for you to realize that Harry had more skill in the kitchen than an everyday home-chef did. He all but floated around the room, chopping with ease and finesse. The two of you had settled into a comfortable silence as he worked and you watched. Billy Joel played softly over his Bluetooth speaker, and he’d occasionally stop what he was doing to take a sip of his wine and look over his shoulder at you, almost as if he was checking if you were still there because you were being so quiet.

Your head was starting to grow fuzzy as you finished your third glass of wine that night, so you make the (responsible) decision to cut yourself off for the night. “Can I have a glass of water?”

“Course y’can,” he replies quietly, not stopping what he was doing. “Give me just a second and I’ll get ya––”

“Oh, I can get it myself. Just tell me where the cups are.”

Harry stops chopping and turns completely to face you, an amused look on his face. “You’re plastered, aren’t ya?”

“No? Why do you think that?”

Harry laughs. “You can’t hear yourself stumblin’ over your words, but I can. Jus’ stay right there and I’ll get your water. You want ice?”

“How do you know how to cook so well?”

“Culinary school,” he responds coolly. “Ice?”

You’re not sure if you are as drunk as Harry says you are, but you were currently finding the fact that Harry went to culinary school the coolest thing ever. “A chef? No way! What kind of chef?”

“I’m a Sous Chef. Gonna give ya a bit of ice.”

“I can’t believe I live across from a chef! No wonder you were giving me shit for eating canned pasta sauce,” you take the glass of water from Harry’s outstretched hand, thanking him. “Even your water tastes better than mine!”

“I think you’re just pissed, Y/N,” Harry responds, eyes crinkled from smiling. “Do y’like cooked carrots?” Your nose wrinkles in response to Harry’s question and he mutters something about how he’ll leave them out before turning back towards the stove to check on his food.

“How old are you, Harry?”

“Just turned twenty-seven. Yourself?”

“I’m twenty-four!” You exclaim, a little too excited. “Where are you from?”

He turns to look at you, eyebrow raised. “England. What gave it away?”

“Your accent.”

He hums, a small smirk on his lips. “Where are you from?”

“I’m from here. Just moved back home from my college town but didn’t wanna move back in with my parents, so here I am.”

“No roommates, you said?”

“Nope,” you pop the ‘p’, taking a big gulp of water. “You don’t either, do you? I just realized I haven’t heard or seen anyone else since I’ve been here.”

“I do not. I had a roommate when I first moved in but he ended up gettin’ engaged and moving in with his fiancée, so it’s just me for now. I think I like livin’ on my own better, though.” You watch as Harry reaches into his cabinet and retrieves two bowls and starts spooning your dinner into them. He sets the bowl in front of you and hands you a spoon, nodding at you to try it.

You bring a spoonful up to your mouth, blowing a few times before shoving it into your mouth. Your eyes widen at the amazing flavor that fills your mouth, and your eyes diverge to his. “This is incredible!”

Harry looks down at his bowl of food, a shy grin on his face. “Thanks, Y/N. Glad you like it.” He grabs his glass of wine from behind him and moves around to the other side of the island to sit next to you.

“Are you a vegetarian?” You ask, mouth full.

“Somewhat. I’m a pescatarian,” he shovels a spoonful of the chili into his mouth. “More wine?”

“I better not,” you reply, mind still fuzzy from all you’ve drunk throughout the night. “This is seriously so good, Harry. You’re cute, you can cook, you’re nice… you’re like, a triple threat!”

“Callin’ me cute?”

“C’mon, you know you are,” you answer boldly. “I’m just stating the obvious.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” he takes a sip of wine. “You’re a pretty big looker yourself.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

“You flirted with me first.”

“So what if I did?”

Harry lets out a quiet scoff, going back to eating his food. After a moment he says, “I wouldn’t mind.” You smile to yourself and continue eating, bringing the bowl up to your lips and tipping your head back so you could get every last drop of Harry’s veggie chili. He gets up to get another helping of food as you get up to place your bowl in the sink, lifting your sleeves to wash it.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says as he brushes past you, going back to where he was previously seated. “I’ll clean up later. Do y’want some dessert?”

“I think I will take some more wine,” you grab the bottle from the center of the island along with your glass, pouring a generous amount. “This is good. Nothing like the cheap bottles I get from Target.”

“I’m glad you like it. Thought I’d pull this one out tonight, always pairs well with dishes like this…” He trails off. “Anyway, yeah. Glad y’like it.”

You and Harry finish off the bottle of wine no more than thirty minutes later, having by now situated yourselves on his couch. He turned something onto the television (you think it was Iron Chef), but neither one of you were paying any attention to it. Harry was asking about what you studied in college, how you like your current career and your favorite things to do in your free time. You were asking him about England, his family back home, and why he chose to go to culinary school.

He has a way about him that captivates you— just completely pulls you in— and you never want to stop listening to him speak. Harry leans close to you when you talk, almost as if you’re telling him a secret that he doesn’t want to miss out on.

“I think ‘m jus’ as drunk as you are now,” Harry whispers, letting out an adorable giggle. “Goin’ into work tomorrow is gonna be a proper pain.”

“No one told you to try and outdrink me!” You yell, tucking your knees under your bottom. “Now we’re both drunk, what good does that do?”

“Think it’s more fun this way, don’t you?” Harry lets out a little burp, his face flushing. “Wanna help me clean the kitchen?”

“What happened to cleaning it later?” You stand up from the couch, wobbling slightly before catching your balance.

“Well, I didn’t think we’d get drunk off our arses and sit here talkin’ til one in the mornin’, did you?” He stands up as well, his hand moving to rest on the small of your back as he scooches past you.

“There’s no way it’s that late,” you retort, checking the time on your phone. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to overextend my stay. I’ll help you clean this place up and then get going.”

Harry swats a hand in front of his face, shaking his head. “Overextend your stay? Of course y’didn’t, more than happy to have you here. Do you wanna wash or dry?”

“I’ll wash since I don’t know where anything goes.” You move to the sink and roll up your sleeves, moving the small number of dishes in the sink all to one side so you can fill the other side with water. Silence falls over you again as you clean the dishes from dinner and soon enough you’re done, drying your hands on your t-shirt.

“Thank you, Y/N. We make a good team, huh? Got that done quickly, didn’t we?” He folds the dishtowel in half neatly and hangs it over the handle of his oven.

“Yeah,” you yawn, slipping on your shoes that had been discarded earlier in the night by the door. “I’ll get out your hair and let you get to bed, then. Thank you for having me over and for cooking that delicious dinner, I enjoyed it. I owe you.”

“If it’s frozen food, don’t worry about it,” he jokes, moving to open the door for you. “If you want to cook me something, though…”

“How about I take you out for dinner? I stay out of the kitchen, and you’ll get something edible and halfway decent. A win-win?”

Harry laughs. “‘M lookin’ forward to it. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“I couldn’t decide between Italian or sushi but since you’re a pescetarian, I figured sushi was our best bet.”

Harry looks away from the menu and at you, clearing his throat before speaking. “That was really thoughtful. Surprised you remembered considering how loaded you were.”

“For the last time, I was not that drunk,” you defend yourself, gently kicking his calf from underneath the table. “By the end of the night, you had way more than me!”

“Maybe so,” he replies nonchalantly, looking back at the menu. “Let’s not forget who can handle their alcohol better, though.”

You let out an indignant hmph, and get to scouring the menu yourself. You didn’t eat sushi very often so you figured you’d probably just get whatever Harry got.

“Let’s do sake bombs.”

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Sake bombs? Are you tryin’ to get me drunk again?”

“They’re fun! Just one?”

Harry shakes his head at you and grins before waving over the waitress, asking her politely for two sake bombs. She comes back a few minutes later with the alcohol and chopsticks balanced precariously on a tray, setting them in front of you and Harry respectively.

The waitress stands back and says, “Ichi… ni… san… sake bomb!” The two of you pound the table until your shot glasses fall into the cup and then you throw your heads back, chugging down the cocktail. When you finally finish chugging your drink and look back up at Harry, he’s staring at his watch as if he’s been waiting for you to finish for ages.

“Oh, you’re finally done? I was startin’ to grow old,” he teases, taking a sip of his water. “Do you know what you wanna order?”

“You’re annoying,” you reply, narrowing your eyes at him. “But I’m gonna get whatever you get.”

“Really? You don’t have any preferences?”

You shake your head. “I don’t eat sushi very often so I honestly don’t know what I should get. I’ll try anything, though.”

“You really did pick this place just for me, didn’t you?” He has a teasing tone to his voice, but his gaze has softened.

“I told you I owed you, didn’t I?”

At this, Harry just gives you a small smirk and signals the waitress over once again to order for the both of you. While you wait for your food to come, you fall into easy conversation with Harry again. It seems like you can talk about anything under the sun with him–– no topic was off-limits, and nothing was awkward. He had to have been one of the most interesting people you’ve ever met in your life. He was well-traveled, knew several languages, and loved to sing and write music in his spare time. Although you felt your own life was rather boring in comparison to his, he made you feel just as accomplished and interesting as he was.

“That was good,” he tells you after you’ve both finished eating, wiping his mouth with his napkin and slouching in his chair slightly. “Think ‘m gonna need to unbutton my pants here in a second.”

“Me too,” you answer with a laugh, making eye contact with the waitress. You mouth, ‘check, please’ and she nods, reappearing at your table with the check. As you’re digging in your purse to pull out your wallet, Harry reaches over and grabs the check before you can even look at it. He reaches in his pants pocket for his wallet and slides his card in before you’ve even looked back up.

“What are you doing?” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Did you forget that I’m the one that owes you?” He shrugs.

“You can make it up to me another way. Don’t worry about it,” his voice is low and gravelly. The waitress comes back to collect the check from Harry and after he receives his receipt, he reaches into his wallet to place a cash tip for her on the table. “Ready to get home?”

Home. You know he only worded it that way because you live directly across from him, but you would like going “home home” with Harry, at least for tonight. There was no denying the sexual tension between the two of you was electric–– anyone who was paying attention to the two of you could probably sense it. You wordlessly nod and follow Harry out of the restaurant, intertwining your fingers with his when he holds his hand back for you to grab.

He stands on the curb and expertly hauls a cab, opening the door and gesturing your in ahead of him. Harry’s hand moves to rest on your leg as he makes small-talk with the taxi driver, asking him if he was having a busy night and how much longer he thought he’d be out for. Harry pays the cab fare and wishes the driver a good rest of his night before all but dragging you out of the taxi.

“What’s got you in such a rush?” You ask Harry, a teasing

“Oh? Did I misread the situation? I thought–– this is embarrassing, never mind…” his tight grip loosens on your hand but you pull him back into you, laughing at how adorable he was.

“Harry! I’m joking, I know what’s going on,” you rub your thumb across the top of his. “I was just messing with you.” You see him visibly let out a sigh of relief.

“Don’t mess with me like that, Y/N!” You’re still standing outside of your apartment complex in the dark, as close to one another as you can be without completely melting into each other. He releases his hand from your tight grip and places it gently on your face instead. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

“Please,” you reply breathlessly, standing on your toes. Harry cranes his neck to meet your lips and presses them to yours softly, pulling back only when the both of you are near gasping for air.

“Was that nice?” He asks, thumb caressing your face. Your noses are pressed together and you just nod, still too breathless to speak. “Maybe we can take this inside, then?”

Once inside Harry’s apartment, he nearly rips off the new shirt you bought specifically for your date with him, discarding it by his door.

“Careful with that,” you mutter, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I just got that today. Tag is still onnit.”

You feel Harry laugh into the side of your neck, walking your backward towards his couch. “I’ll cover the cost if it’s ruined then, how’s tha’?”

Harry sucks harshly on your neck, causing you to let out a low moan. “I guess that’s fine.”

“That’s fine?” Harry mocks you, guiding you onto the coach. You hum in agreement as you sink further down into the couch, letting out a sigh of bliss as he peppered kisses along your breast.

Your movements are needy— desperate. Neither one of you were trying to hide how badly you wanted to fuck the other. Harry smashing his lips onto yours once more, his breath warm and tongue salty from all the sushi he had earlier consumed. He attempts to pull his own shirt from his body while not breaking the kiss, and you let out a satisfied hum when he succeeds. Now you’re both shirtless and the only thing stopping you from fucking each other proper is being still fully clothed on your bottom halves.

“Can we get these off?” You ask, tugging at your own bottoms. Harry helps you pull down your tight jeans, struggling slightly to get them off your sweaty legs. Once your jeans are off your underwear follows immediately after, carelessly strewn around the room like the rest of your clothing.

“Y/N…” Harry hungrily takes the sight of your body in, eyes darkening with lust. “You might be the death of me, did ya know that?”

“I do now.”

He sucks on his index and middle fingers and lowers them down to your core, slipping them inside you with ease. You hadn’t realized how wet you were until Harry was knuckles deep, curling his fingers tantalizingly slow inside of you. “Do ya?”

You bite down hard on your lip, nodding at Harry’s rhetorical question. “Obviously.”

He flips the two of you over, so that you’re now straddling him and he’s laying below you. “Take what you want, then–– oh wait, condom?” You nod and move as Harry digs around in his pants, pulling out his wallet.

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those guys that keeps a condom in their wallet.”

He rips it open with his teeth in one swift motion and unbuckles his pants, giving himself a couple of quick strokes before sliding it on. “What if I am? Was quick and effective, wasn’t it?” He rests his hands on your hips and pulls you back on top of him, connecting his lips with yours again. “Now you can take what you want.”

Your hands move up to grip Harry’s shoulders as you slowly sink onto him, wincing at the stretch and burn an unfamiliar partner sometimes brings. You make eye contact with Harry as you take a moment to adjust to his size, noting how his grip on your hips gets even tighter.

“S’big,” you mutter, rolling your hips slightly. Below you, Harry squeezes his eyes shut. “So big.”

“Tell me how badly you want it.”

“You already know. Don’t feel like being teased.”

Harry juts his hips up to meet you slamming down onto him, groaning out loudly from the pleasure the added motion brings. At one point he situates himself so he’s sitting straight up, using his left hand as a support for him to rest back on while his right hand is tweaking at your nipples. He’s letting out a slew of curse words, letting you know it felt just as good for him as it did for you.

“Ridin’ m’cock so good,” he says under his breath, bringing the hand that was playing with your nipples to rest in between your legs. Whenever you slam back onto him you feel him not only deep in the pit of your stomach but also on your clit, bringing you maximum pleasure. “Don’t be so quiet, let me know when ‘m makin’ you feel good, love.”

“I’m already close,” you admit, feeling a bit embarrassed at how it took Harry doing next to nothing to work an orgasm out of you. Well, not literally–– but it felt like it. “Feel s’good inside me, you’re so big.”

Harry lets out a low moan from your words, throwing his head back in pleasure. It hits the arm of his couch with a quiet thump but his pace doesn’t falter in the slightest. “You’re gonna make me cum if ya keep strokin’ my ego like that.”

“You asked for it,” you reply, changing your move from riding to grinding as you were starting to grow fatigued. “I’m close.” You remove your hands from his shoulders and let them roam the expanse of your body, wanting nothing more than to receive maximum pleasure.

“Can feel ya squeezin’ ‘round me,” Harry says, taking his lip in between his teeth. “Know you’re about to come, pet.”

"Harry..." you warn, your movements growing more desperate and sloppy. You weren't normally a selfish lover but your head was so clouded from pleasure, all you could think about at the moment was your release. Harry leans his head back on the couch again and now uses his two free hands to bring you to orgasm–– one is rubbing circles on your clit and the other one is gripping at your breasts as you use your last bit of strength to swivel your hips on him.

You're coming undone not ten seconds later, loudly moaning out the man's name who laid under you. You don't slow your movements, knowing he was right behind you.

"Y/N, fuck, 'm gonna come-" he lets out a low, guttural moan, coming immediately after announcing it.

The sounds of you trying to steady your breathing are the only sounds that fills the room as you both come down from your respective highs. Harry runs his hands along your bare body, eyes hooded from the orgasm that just wracked his body. As you’re beginning to uncurl yourself from Harry, he grabs your hand, pulling you back down.

“Will you stay the night?”

You didn’t know what sleeping with Harry meant for your relationship going forward, but you were glad you knocked on Apartment 41.

#harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #apartment 41 #thanks for reading!

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ashiristic · 2 years

Text

Prompt:

@epiclamer Impaled Prompt.

Thanks for getting me out of the writing slump!

---------

The hero opened their mouth to say something but remained silent. The white-hot pain blared on their side as their nemesis watched them with their mouth jarred. They would’ve won the award last year for the best actor if they really are an actor. Yet here they are—both of them — stabbing each other in the body while the villain successfully stabbed his side.

Sand swirled around them in a circle as the villain cocked their head in confusion. Are they really that… what? The villain’s hair danced with the strong wind, yet the hero couldn’t feel it. Is the wind a design effect for this area? They don’t know, and they don’t want to know because all they want is to get out of here.

“Fuck, I was so sure I saw it on your to-do lists today,” the villain paused, pulling the spear out of the hero’s wound. Great, now the hero is bleeding out. Just goddamn great, as the hero tilted their head, thinking or remembering whether they saw it or it was a magical imagination they thought a few hours ago. “Are you sure you didn’t write something like ‘stabbing’ on your to-do list?”

“Yes, I did.” The hero sighed, clutching their bleeding wound, and trying to not be in hiss pain. They shifted to the side, getting a few inches farther from the villain. “I did, but it was you getting stabbed. Absolutely, not me.”

The villain let out a small oh, blinking their eyes a few times before nodding in understanding. The hero glanced at their back, an opening. They have to run away before they die. Dying was never on their to-do lists, and they still want to taste the heavenly cake made by the baker near their apartment. Their feet moved away from the villain’s direction, preparing to run away, but pain punched them in the gut.

“I thought you were a masochist when I saw that. Sorry for thinking that way?” The villain apologized, shaking their head as if the hero had lost someone important to them. They don’t have time for this, they have to run. Can they even run away?

“Really sorry hero, though I don’t have getting stabbed and dying on my bucket list.” The villain turned their spear, pointing it towards the hero as they launched an attack. Fuck, again with their flawless cuts. They avoided it despite the flashing speed of the weapon, then they ran. Their hand on their side as they gaze back from time to time, and dear lord.

The villain is running after them like a cheetah.

“Just get the fuck away from me! I have a family!”

“Is that for comedic effect, or are you serious? Because it isn’t working!” The villain threw their spear into the hero, jumping up and down to watch the hero getting chased by their spear.

“Good luck!” The villain waved their hand, cackling as the hero ran faster. The hero cursed, yelling damn, fuck, and praying the hell out in their mind. This is a nightmare. An absolute nightmare that’ll make them sleep forever.

They dodged every thrust of the spear, whizzing as blood continued running down their wound. This is bad—No—the hero will die if this goes on. Fatigue hit them like a truck as they swayed, looking back to see how close the spear was. It was close. They took a sharp breath and continued running despite the injury and the fatigue knocking their brain.

Run, run, fucking run.

Panic seethes through their vein-like venom, eventually giving in to fear. Their heart was booming inside their chest, awaiting the spear to stab them in the back. They glanced back, taking a deep breath, knowing it’ll be their last. As they moved one more step away, crossing the white line. The spear stopped.

It goes back to the villain with a quick turn, while the hero hopes the villain gets stabbed. They didn’t, instead; they gave the hero a playful grin, yelling; “Congratulations, you survived the challenge.”

And they disappeared with a sandstorm, clearing the view. The hero never felt so happy to see the beautiful skyline of the city again as they knelt against the ground. They fucking survived a near-death scenario. Check.

#villain x hero #hero x villain #hero and villain #hero x villain prompts #fantasy #writeblr #snippet #writing snippet #creative writing #writblr #writblur #writing #writing prompt #prompts

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luimagines · 3 years

Note

Hi! I have a request, but first i wanna say your writing is absolutely amazing! The length + amount of time you put into these prompts is insanely good. Now! Onto the request, how would the boys react to a reader from a more modern era? Maybe a more modernized hyrule or our current point in time?

Masterlist

Thank you so much for the compliment! I'm happy to see the response even if this blog is still relatively new.

I hope I do your prompt justice.

I probably could have done a headcanon list but I was hit with inspiration.

I also might have given Reader some backstory.

Scenario below the cut! It’s long, take caution.

It was a cool night, but you didn't mind. Your bed was warm, the WiFi was fast and even if it was three AM on a school night, you managed to keep yourself giggling with cat videos and blursed memes until the words and colors merged.

A night well spent.

But it led to questionable decisions.

Even if the shredded cheese in the fridge was beginning to seem a more and more enticing snack, your body was tempted to succumb to slumber.

Until a large purple light encompassed the entirety of your window.

Something was in your backyard.

Aliens. Your tired brain supplies and you sprint to the glass and push away the curtains. Is this it? Is this where I'm kidnapped and never seen or heard from again?

You pull out your phone and open up the camera.

"Pics or it didn't happen." You remind yourself and snap a few before showing your face.

What you see isn't what you're expecting. Instead of a flying saucer in the sky beaming down a laser or a weird pear shaped space craft on top of the grass, there's a single panel of glowing light, swirling with black accents that creeps in a circular motion.

"Cheese and crackers...." You gasp and begin to blatantly stare at it with no regard to whether something may be coming out of it.

You wait and nothing happens.

You wait some more and nothing happens.

You spend an hour watching this portal that has appeared out of nowhere, waiting for something to happen, willing for something to happen. But you get nothing.

The unknown stares right back at you, unblinking and unchanged.

Go through it. A voice tells you. What if there's something on the other side?

"I'm going to die." You gulp and take a deep breath.

Who else gets a chance like this? The voice talks again. This could be a grand step towards a more modern society. A whole new world could be on the other side, waiting, reaching out, calling to humanity!

You think you a see a shadow move behind the portal and out of sight but it’s gone before you can even process it.

"Should I call the police?" You step away from the window, ignoring the thoughts, the voice- you're too tired to know if it's your own any more. What's the plan? How does one go about something like this?

Where’s your sense of adventure? Pack a bag and go! What if it goes away?

That last thought seems to get through to your tired brain and for a reason beyond your understanding, it latches onto it.

Now you’re excited.

You run to the closet and take out your old backpack. It used to be for school but it was fancier since it was the only one you could get. The bag had a replaceable water bag with a plastic straw connected through the back of it and the straps have just worn down enough to where they’re actually comfortable. It doubled as a hiking backpack and came with its own insulated lunch box that clasped on the back of it.

It’ll finally serve its purpose.

You quickly roll up your favorite blanket and strap it in tightly beneath the lunch box. You’re quick to take out two extra outfits and pack them as well as change out of your pajamas.

Ok. What would you need? You don’t know where you’d be going so this has to a catch all kind of deal.

You pack away your swiss army knife first for good measure. A solar powered charger for your phone and an extra pair of socks follow suit even after you’ve picked out the extra clothes.

You take out the water bag and run to fill it all the way to max capacity as you think of any other necessities.

You’d need food. You have a small jar of peanut butter and granola bars that can fit in the lunch box. You can bring your extra water bottle and put in the side pockets of the backpack, and maybe bring some of those powered flavor packets your brother loves so much. You think he has lemonade and some green tea ones.

Those would be great. He won’t mind, hopefully.

You let the bag overfill momentarily before running back to shove it in your bag. with the lid screwed tight.

Next you run to the kitchen, grabbing the first things that you thought of already and begin to look around for more.

You grab an unopened pack of beef jerky, a bag of veggie sticks and a half eaten bag of dried mangos.

During your search you grab the water bottle and fill that too.

You return to your room with your bounty and begin to carefully put everything in the box. With some more deliberation, you run back to the kitchen and make yourself a quick sandwich, eat it, make another one and pack that as well.

You look out side the window and the portal is still there.

The sun is beginning to rise now so you’re trying to go as fast as you can, unless you want to neighbors to think something is going on.

Even if it is.

You’re about to leave but in a stroke of brilliance, you run to pack sunscreen and bug spray as well. You see a small first aid pack that was bought recently for when you would take your family vacation but you reason that it might one of the most important things you’d have if you got hurt.

Into the bag it goes.

You grab your hoodie before you leave the door, wrap it around your waist and pocket your phone, your headphones and your wallet.

You feel immediately under packed when you step outside and see the portal up close.

It’s weirdly triangle shaped, you think and step closer.

You reach your hand out and try to touch it. It feels as if you put your hand through a humidifier but it’s not wet. It’s misty and cold but not necessarily unpleasant.

An idea hits you right before you take your first step through.

You pull up one of the earlier photo’s you took and send it to your friend’s group chat. It showed up in my backyard. I decided to make a bad late night decision and I’m going through. If you never hear from me again, I want you all to fight over my electronics. Winner takes all. Godspeed.

And you step through.

You had first assumed that it would merely take you tot he other side but very quickly realize that you have to walk through it.

The first part still had a little light but with time, it got darker. So dark that you couldn’t even see your hand in front of your face.

You kept walking.

As fast as the light disappeared, it came back and you stepped into the light of an open field, right in front of one, two, three, four, nine males that had appeared to be traveling towards you or rather, towards the portal.

The portal disappears in the process.

“Oh so we didn’t have to go through it! We had to gain another member!” One of them yells. “Would have been nice to know before we packed everything up!”

“Ho boy, where am I?” You ask and tighten your grip on your backpack. Why didn’t I bring a weapon?

They all had long tunics and swords on their backs. Old fashioned leather boots and hand bracers were the norm in this group and you realized very quickly that your jeans and t-shirt had wildly missed the memo.

“Dang, I didn’t think I’d walk into a LARP group. Sorry about that.” You sheepishly smile. “I had no idea where the portal was going to take me. But if you would be so kind-”

“Wait, what’s LARP?” One of them speaks up. He was a dirty blond and somewhere in the middle of the group height wise. He wore a white cape like thing with blue designs on the back but you didn’t recognize the symbol.

“Live Action Role Play?” You tilt your head. “It’s why you’re all dressed like that? Right?”

“This is just our clothes.” What appears to be the youngest bounces up to you. “What are you wearing?”

“First I could grab in my closet.” You admit and look down on it. It’s one of your comfiest shirts and best looking pants. You’re a little proud of yourself for finding those in the dark.

“Weird.”

“We’re heroes. We’re all named Link.” Cape guy speaks up again. “Is it safe to assume that you’re in the same boat?”

“Heroes?” Your eyebrows furrow together. “I’m not a hero and my name’s not Link.”

You’re quick to tell them your name and you watch as the confusion covers their faces. “My brother’s name is Link though if that helps anything.”

“Oh we needed him!” The youngest groans and it instantly irks you.

“What would you need with a five year old?” You deadpan and cross your arms.

The information stuns the group.

“The portal showed up in the middle of the night and I’m the one that went through it. I’m pretty sure I was the only awake to even see it. Are you telling me that it was for my little brother?” You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t a little pissed. “My baby brother was supposed to go through it? He was asleep! He’s five. What kind of logic is that?!”

“Well...” The biggest and oldest of them runs a hand over his face. You think he has some cool tattoos and sick scar going across his eye but he looks about as angry as you feel, so you don’t say anything. “It appears the gods truly do not care for the hero’s maturity, only his existence.”

“Ok...What’s with all this hero talk?” You bite back. “What did... Where am I?”

“Hyrule.” The second with cool face tattoos speaks up. He’s got a large fur pelt around his shoulders and you have to tighten your grip against your backpack again to keep from reaching out to touch it.

Even so you feel yourself deadpan even more. “Hyrule? Like the ancient empire? The one that collapsed more than two thousand years ago? That Hyrule?”

You’re inclined to not believe them and write all of them off as crazy... but you also walked through a portal. And your grandma did say that magic existed in the strangest forms.

They all share looks of concern and some begin to murmur quietly amongst themselves but you’re too far gone to even notice.

“Did I time travel?” The idea hits you like a bus and you feel your eyes widen as you stare beyond the group. You quickly take our your phone and unlock it.

No signal.

“Is that a type of Sheikah slate?” Someone asks you.

“I don’t know what that is.” You reply automatically. “Wait, hold on, what year is it?”

“Why don’t you tell us what year you’re from and we can start from there?” The darkest brunette of the group speaks up.

“202x PC” You say robotically, not really processing the world around you anymore.

“That’s...” The blond with a long blue scarf speaks up with a slight hiss. “...Beyond any of our timelines. You see, we all come from different worlds and eras of Hyrule’s history.”

“I don’t think you’re the farthest down anymore, Wild.”

“This would then make them my successor, right?”

“It would make their brother your successor.” Someone amends. “I think they just jumped in his place.”

“Leave my brother alone.” You snap back into the present, pocketing your [hone again. “Ok, you know what, screw it. I don’t know what you’d want my brother for but I’m here now. I’d gladly take his place if it means he gets to stay home!”

“Hey.” A boy with pink hair stalks up to you looking a little more serious than you’d like.

“Nice hair dude, way to defy the gender norms.” You smirk a little before genuinely grinning, hoping to quell the tension. “What product do you use? It looks like Artic Fox but not every place sells their brand.”

“...I have no idea what you’re talking about but what happened to Ganon in your world? How have you been handling it?” He snaps and places his hands on his hips.

“Ganon? Like my old principle? That’s a name I haven’t heard in forever.” You’re confused again. “Last I heard he joined the police force only to be reassigned out of state. I don’t know what’s happening with him. Kinda hope he gets fired though. He’s not a bad guy but he’s not someone you’d want in that kind of position of power, you know.”

“Police force?”

You blinked and look them all over. They look very medieval. “Oh... You don’t have that...”

You begin to think about your history lessons and what they might be familiar with if they’re telling the truth about being from Hyrule.

“Ya’ll got knights?”

Many, almost all of them nod, a few with face of despair already on them before you finish speaking.

“It’s kind of like that. Mixed with a towns guard position... kinda. They enforce laws... at least they’re supposed to but the whole system is flawed and racist and really needs to be dismantled for the abuse of power that they have-”

“Abuse? Of power?” You have their attention again.

“It’s stupid and it won’t really make any sense if I try to explain because I doubt you have anything similar but it’s basically a group of people given the right to treat the public in anyway they like for their own benefit because they have no one telling them that they can’t.” You groan and slowly begin to feel your lack of sleep catch up to you.

You slowly reach to behind you and sit down on the dirt, looking at all of them. “Mr. Dragmire wasn’t like...Demise or anything but he was a huge jerk. No one liked him. He liked me though. I remember that. I was the envy of the whole school because I somehow got on his good side while everyone else wants to strangle him. I think he was transferred for some misdemeanor or something like that... like he might have been throwing hands with someone he wasn’t supposed to. I never heard all the details. I didn’t really care for it when it happened either. I’m pretty sure he lost that fight though. The dude looked like a blast of wind could have knocked him over let alone someone’s knuckle sandwich.”

“I would love to hear more about this.” The youngest sits next to you with a large grin on his face. His eyes are bright and his body language reminds you of your cousin Zelda. You instantly think they’d get along like a house on fire. “What are your monsters like?”

“Monsters?” You tilt your head. “Be a little more specific bud, it depends on where you’re from.”

“You have that many?!”

“It depends on if you believe they’re real or not.”

“Speaking of monsters, can you fight?” The shortest walks up to you. You like that his tunic is stitched up with multiple colors and designs. It gives it personality, you think. “Do you have a weapon you’re more comfortable with?”

The question throws you off your rhythm and you don’t fight your wince. “What would happen if I say that I do not, in fact, have any sort of weapon on me?”

“I wouldn’t believe you.” Pink guy speaks up again. “That pack is huge, there has to be something in there.”

“It’s food, water and extra clothes my guy.” You lean back against said backpack since it won’t let you lay down with it still on. “Not a lot of space for anything else. I’m pretty good at hand to hand combat though. Karate’s a good way to fight out stress.”

“Your bag’s not magic?”

“Why the hell would it be magic? ...Are you trying to tell me magic actually exists?” You raise an eyebrow as your eyes begin to close against your will. “I know my grandma said it does but I thought she meant like fairies and shadow demons.. and bigfoot. Can’t forget him, he’s the real MVP... You know...Children’s bedtime stories and stuff like that, it’s not real. But like magic magic? Magic items and the like? Find me Tinkerbell and I’ll show you Neverland, that’s what I say.”

“Are you serious?”

“Second star to the right, straight on till morning.” You respond.

There’s a moment of silence as the group in front of you processes your words. It’s hard to tell their reaction since you’re not looking at them but you no longer have the energy to do anything else.

“Are you falling asleep right now?” It’s the one they called Wild.

“I...” You try to open your eyes. They don’t budge. “I haven’t slept in nearly 20 hours... I think. I might have past 24 hours a while ago actually. Portal showed up at like four in the morning... I had to get up at six and I didn’t sleep at all before then.”

More silence.

“Great another one.” Someone scoffs.

You snort.

“Why did we pack up camp again?”

“No one kill me.” You say right before you lose consciousness. “Please and thank you.”

“They’re doomed.”

“Have some faith Vet. They stepped in for their little brother. That has to mean something?”

“They’re in for a rude awakening, and that’s all I have to say about it.”

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #is this readers origin story #maybe?#i got a little carried away with this one #had to stop myself before i went even further beyond #i don't know if I want to continue with this as a story or just throw out some headcanons with modern reader #i like to think that everything i write takes place in a separate universe #especially the ones where they catch feelings #might throw out what they think of reader #might not #depends on you guys!#let me know what you think!

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