#I hope your blanket is softer that a cloud

[katcoquette]

Calm After the Storm

Tyler Owens x Reader

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summary: you’re the calm before, and after, the storm, and he’ll never stop coming home to you… and you’re grateful he’s here to be part of what is sure to become a favorite memory.

★ word count: 1.3k

★ author's note: first onneee for tornado ty & it’s a very soft, quiet moment. just a little somethin somethin while my thoughts ruminate. thank god for twisters bringing back my will to write!! jake, baby, I’m coming back for you! hey & I’m a little rusty… it’s a little rusty; but enjoy!

Sunsets were always prettiest after a storm, and there was no better place to enjoy them than out in the yard with the horses. The sun was peeking out from behind the clouds as it set, and light glistened off the puddles that were left over.

The scent of rain still lingers in the air, but it’s warm enough that you’re comfortable in the cutoff shorts you’d put on in the beginning of the day. The sleeves on your boyfriend’s flannel had been rolled up by you some minutes earlier, to keep them out of the way of the grooming you were doing, but they just kept slipping back down.

Each time, it forces you to pause your brushing and readjust the sleeves again, which makes your horse, Millie, shake her head and snort in response.

You laugh to yourself after what had to be the fourth time you’d paused, and pet the side of her head. “I know, I know.” You reassure, and resume brushing.

Her chocolate brown coat glistens in the warm glow of the descending sun as you brush over it again and again, getting lost in the motion.

You appreciate the how mundane it is, and let your mind drift elsewhere, specifically to someone else.

Tyler Owens.

To his fans, he was a thrill seeker, as wild and unpredictable as the storms he was chasing, and while all of that was true, it wasn’t what motivated him to do what he did. You’d learned that almost instantly after meeting him.

To you… well to you he was passionate, thoughtful, and safe. He knew every part of you and your soul, and loved it all. You never felt anxious around him, or worried how you were being perceived.

He was also someone your local community knew they could rely on if, and when, the weather turned bad. He was learning about tornadoes, trying to understand them, hoping to alleviate the destruction they left in their paths.

But who said he couldn’t have a little bit of fun while doing all those good things, too?

So, on days like today, when the storm really was just a storm, he often missed what you enjoyed most about summers here. The calm after the storm.

People usually talked about the calm before, the anticipation of what unknown force was coming, but you preferred the feelings that came when it was all over. They weren’t always good, but today- today had just been rain, lightning, and thunder, so you were content, and happy.

It was nothing a blanket on the porch and a cup of tea couldn’t fix- which is exactly how you’d spent the afternoon while he was driving around out there. You figured he’d be back soon; the excitement was all over now.

“I think you’re just about done there, Millie Moo.” You give her a few good pats and bend down to place the brush back in your bucket. You hear his boots on the gravel before the brush is even out of your hand.

“Well, isn’t that a view!”

You smile at the sound of his voice, “The sun setting or the horse?” You yell back, straightening to watch him walk towards you with one hand on your hip and the other shielding your eyes.

“I try to look at the bigger picture.” His voice is softer as he reaches you, putting his arms around your waist. You slide your hands to his shoulders, the side of your mouth quirking up in amusement. He kisses you slowly, then rests his forehead against yours.

You’d never get sick of kissing him- or having to catch your breath afterwards.

You can see the smile on his lips. “I only ever mean you, darlin’.” He leans back, not to let go of you, but to get a better look.

“You look amazing in this.” He drawls, and despite how long you’d known him, you blush. “I wear this all the time.” You tell him matter of factly.

He smirks, “That doesn’t change how ya look right now.”

“I missed you.” You kiss him again, “And so did Millie. We were just thinking about you.”

He drops his hand to grab your own, leading you back to where Millie’s head was hanging over the fence. “Is that so, Mills?” She neighs at his question, making you both laugh.

“How was it today?” You ask him, wondering what he’d ended up in. You had quite your own view now: your tornado wrangler… nuzzling against the horse you’d had since you were a teenager, one leg up on the fence, the green of the grass and trees behind him, all lit up in gold.

“Uneventful.” You refocus on him when he speaks, lost momentarily in trying to memorize every part of the memory this was going to become.

“And?”

He smiles at your prompt for more information. You were always pushing him to share more of his feelings, to open up, confront them, but today that was truly all he felt about it. It was uneventful. But he’ll give you a better answer anyway.

“And- good. I’m grateful for the break. It’s been a hard season.” You give him a knowing look.

“And, I’m grateful to be home in time to see this.” He gestures around himself. “Everything. It’s a perfect evening.”

You hum in agreement, his words echoing your thoughts from earlier.

You lightly nudge your horse’s head out of the way, making room for yourself in Tyler’s arms. “Sorry honey, but I’m getting’ jealous.” He chuckles, but directs all his attention back to you.

You brush his hair out of his face, speaking softly, “I’m glad you’re back in time to enjoy it.”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

And he means it.

And you know it.

Of course he loved being out there in the storms, and tornadoes, and hail, but when all of that was said and done, this is where he wanted to be. He’d made that clear to you on more than one occasion.

“You want some lemonade, wrangler?” You gesture with your head towards the house, teasing him with that nickname.

He nods, unable to keep that smile off his face around you, and slings an arm over your shoulder, walking you back inside.

Once you have glasses full of lemonade securely in your hands, with the pitcher snug in your arm, and Tyler’s arms filled with baked goods and bags of crunch, you both head back onto the porch.

As far as you both were concerned, the evening was just getting started.

The sun is below the horizon as you both settle into the swing, the side table now full of food and drink. Tyler hands you a glass and then grabs his own, crossing an ankle over his knee and putting an arm over the back of the swing behind you.

You lean into him, resting your head in the crook of his shoulder.

It’s easy conversation, and then a comfortable silence, your voices fading as the crickets get louder. Soon that’s all you hear, aside from occasional ice clinking the side of your glass when one of you takes a sip.

And it’s perfect.

You watch the red fade to yellow, then turn all shades of blue, darker and darker, until eventually white stars start to glow through the black blanket of the sky.

A colder breeze causes you to shiver, but you still want to hold on for just a moment longer. It seems he does too, though he isn’t one to let you go cold.

He just pulls you closer to him and brings his arm down around you, instantly warming you up. You can feel his chest rise and fall steadily as he breathes, and it grounds you.

He holds you a little tighter, for the times he had missed the sunsets with you, and for all the times he knew you would be back on this porch alone, waiting for the clouds to clear, and for your wrangler to come home to you.

He’d stay there all night if you asked him to.

[q1ngqve]

ᝰ STALKER WRIO !

✶ 𓏲ּ ꩜ 𓂅 this turned into a half-fic format because i procrastinated way too long on this :(

CW; sick fem! reader, pervert! wrio, stalking, dacryphilia

wriothesley is so head over heels for you, so don’t blame him when he sneaks into your room every night just to watch you! maybe sometimes touch you and feel your soft body in his arms :(

but tonight? you’re sniffling under the covers, nose blocked from the flu you contracted, your body heating up from the high fever, nightmares plaguing your mind as you slept.

he feels himself hardening in his pants as he removes the blanket covering your body, leaning down to kiss your jaw and neck tenderly. something about you being softer and warmer than usual turns him on so much he’s literally bursting through his pants!

you stir awake when you feel something hard grinding against your clothed cunt, fear written on your face when you notice a stranger in your bed, rubbing himself against your heat.

wriothesley shushes you when you let out a panicked cry, his hand reaching down to cover your mouth, “shh shh, don’t cry. ‘m not here to hurt you, just relax, pretty girl.” you squirm underneath him, legs tensing when he grinds against your clit deliciously.

you’re whining a lot more than usual due to your fever, it’s like an aphrodisiac on its own, making you more pliant and easy to manipulate <3 wriothesley is in love!!!! you’re just too fucking cute when you’re sick! just by using 30% of his usual strength, he can have your whole body trapped beneath him, shaking and ready for him to ravish.

frowns when you don't stop whining, to which he pulls out a pair of your panties from his back pocket and stuffs it into your mouth! and it dawns upon you that these are the long-lost pair you'd searched for in vain, and tears well up in your eyes at the realization that you might have a stalker. kisses your tears away before grinding his groin against your core, making you gasp and arch your back into his chest. a chuckle escapes him as the soft clinking of a belt being undone fills the air, and you squirm once more.

wriothesley's hand grips your hip bone as he frees himself from his pants, giving a few pumps before sliding against your clothed core once again. you melt under his weight and the sensation of his cock brushing your clit, beginning to relax despite the lingering fear.

he'd remove the panties from your mouth before leaning down, his gaze piercing and threatening, "if you keep it down, I'll go easy on you, how's that sound, princess?" all you can manage is a sniffle and nod. your pussy flutters at the pet name, a mixture of fever and fuzzy-headedness clouds your judgment, driving a strange desire to please this intruder.

he smiles at your compliance, "good girl." your panties are torn apart in an instant, the sound of fabric revebrating off the walls as he played with your clit using his tip, and that was all it took for you to moan and claw at the bedsheets.

your legs close as he replaces the tip with his fingers, aligning himself with your entrance, a smirk evident on his face as he watches your reaction. his free hand slides under your knee, lifting it up before pushing it back down near your chest.

he thrusts himself in unexpectedly, groaning as he revels in your warmth and wetness. you clench around him whenever you catch sight of him with the sexiest smirk on his face as he thrusts in and out of you. he traps your leg between your bodies, leaning down and putting his weight on you while his hand reached up to your lips and stuffed two fingers in, watching in amusement as you drool on them.

laughs when you paw at his shoulders, clearly overwhelmed by his rough fucking. and he would not stop whispering filthy things into your ear!!!! "leaving your window open in the middle of the night? were you hoping I'd come in and fuck you?"

teases you even more when you reply with a moan, "you dirty girl. look at you, drooling all over me. you like being fucked by your stalker that much?"

cleans and leaves you when you actually pass out from his relentless pounding, leaving a note by your bedside for you to read in the morning, telling you he'll be back again tomorrow night, and that you are now his forever with no escape!!!!!!!!

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

imagine a jealous bucky

The sound of the waves crowded Bucky’s brain, mind circling as he focused on the scene painted in front of him. He sat, toes dug into the sand, guarding him from something he wasn’t sure of. Was it envy? He hoped not, but he sensed it – the burning green haze clouding his thoughts. He watched, sullen, as Clint grabbed you by waist. He pulled you from a large uninviting wave and when you screamed in delight, Bucky looked down at his covered feet. Clint was a married man, what was he doing with his hands all over you. What were you doing looking so wonderful under the sun?

He hated this feeling.

“Seaweed.”

Steve towered over Bucky, hands on his hips as he looked out to the ocean. Bucky said nothing, but grimaced when his friend explained he was as green as a seaward. “You do know nothings going on with those two? He could be her uncle…”

“I could be her great-grandfather, what’s your point.”

This made Steve laugh and he promptly sat next to his friend. He examined the look on Bucky’s face before watching Clint and you. The pair of you were like children, most times he had to rein you in, especially on missions. Neither of you swayed from the other, always having the other’s back – even if they were wrong. Bucky didn’t seem to understand that Clint and you were bonded, connected through years of missions and week-long stakeouts. For a long time, it had been just Clint and you. He had never seen anything but platonic love.

“…his kids think of her as their aunt.”

No words could simmer jealously running through his veins; he knew the truth, deep down he knew he could never be good enough for you. It didn’t matter if nothing was going on between the archer and you – he knew there wasn’t anything there, but still…

The water came to your waist, hand blocking the sun in your eyes as you watched Clint dive into the water. Your eyes squinted waiting for him to pop back up and when he did, you joined him deeper in the ocean. He reached out and grabbed you by the forearm, pulling you to his side. Floating next to him, you stared out toward the base of the beach. Bucky was sitting with Steve, the two shirtless and stunning but the dark-haired man was the one focused on. So smoldering, so lovely.

“Down dog.” Clint teased, closing his eyes when you splashed water at him. He wiped his face and laughed. “Two sick little puppies, Jesus, get a room.”

“Not for a lack of trying,” you muttered, eyes zeroing on Bucky. It seemed in that moment; he met your gaze and all you could manage was a dorky wave. “Smooth.” Ignoring Clint, you started back toward the sand, and he didn’t bother calling for you – instead, he enjoyed the sun on his face as he floated along. Bucky watched as you approached, his heart racing as he glanced over the swimsuit you wore. He tried not to agonize over how gorgeous you looked.

“Enjoying the water?”

“I need a break.”

Bucky patted the spot next to him on the blanket and Steve quickly made an excuse to grab some drinks from the beverage stand. You asked for two cokes, one for Clint, and the flinch in Bucky’s face didn’t go unnoticed as you sat beside him. You had never known Bucky for being the jealous type, but you recognized envy when you saw it. Plopping down, your bare shoulders pressed against his and when you leaned into it, Bucky just smiled at you.

“I’m glad we got some time off, I needed this.”

“Looked like you were having fun…”

“Yeah, Clint knows how to handle the waves really nicely.” Hiding a smile, you watched for Bucky’s reaction and nearly died at the narrowness in his eyes. Oh, if looks could kill – Barton would be a dead man ten times over.  Deciding not to push too far, you touched Bucky’s thigh. He glanced over at you with a dazed expression that you could paint a million times in your mind. His eyes softer as they laid upon you; skin hot from the sun – he was perfect. “Let’s go in the water…please.”

The last word, tender and quiet, broke Bucky; he knew then, that he would do anything for you. He smiled, getting up and lending out a hand. Taking it, you rose to your feet and started toward the water. He watched, taking in the moment before jogging to catch up. You led him away from where Clint and you had been, waddling in the water backwards. Beckoning him to hurry; Bucky laughed, rushing into the cold water to catch up to you. He lost his balance, stubbing his toe on a rock as the water reached his waist. Stumbling forward, he fell into the water, and you laughed. Quickly, you swam to where he went under, pulling him up from under his arms. His metal arm glistened in the water as he took a breath of air, laughing at the mishap. His back pressed against your chest, as you held him up; hands slipping around his chest. Unable to control your laughter, you ended up losing balance as well – the two of you tumbling back into the ocean.

This time Bucky had you in his arms in seconds, holding you up as he stood on his feet. His arms were wrapped around your waist, keeping you afloat as your big toe could barely touch the bottom of the ocean. Cracking up, you gave in to Bucky’s strength. “Just hold on to me, I’m too tired.”

Bucky chuckled, pulling your back firmly against his chest. “That’s fine by me.”

Relaxing with the back of your head on his shoulder, you quietly asked if he was jealous of Clint. He answered with a quick yes. You rotated yourself in his arms to face him. Bucky’s face was inches from yours, relaxed as you slipped both arms around his neck. The sound of the waves rang in his ears, going silent when you told him that there was no need to be.

“I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.”

Those words, he had waited so long to hear but he still felt an inch of guilt. He sighed, looking away before shaking his head. “You deserve better than me.”

‘Oh, fuck off,” you scoffed much to Bucky’s surprise. He was speechless when you grabbed him by the chin, looking directly into his wonderous eyes. “Never in my life have I ever let a man dictate what I need or deserve. I want you and that’s that. I always get what I want, understood?”

His stoic expression urged for an add on. “Only if you want me back, I would like things to be mutually beneficial.”

Letting his chin go, you waited for a response. A second later, you snapped. “An answer would be nice, preferably before the sun goes down…”

Finally, Bucky broke out into a smile. “Are you always going to be this bossy?”

Teasing little shit.

Yanking him by the neck, you leaned into his body; his arms around your waist, holding you up against the simmered waves. Your lips pressed against his and if the ocean decided to take the two of you away – Bucky Barnes would die a happy man.

[wannabehockeygf]

Snooze - Auston Matthews

"I can't lose when I'm with you, How can I snooze and miss the moment? You just too important, Nobody do body like you do."

*** request: "Hey babes! (First time requesting, I’m a lil shy ☺️) Any chance you got something up ur sleeve for Auston Matthews? I’m in need of some fluff and domestic Auston 😗🤲🏽 pls work ur magic!"

summary: falling sick right as your boyfriend comes back from a road trip is unfortunate until he goes full nurse mode.

pairing: auston matthews x fem!reader

word count: 4.6k

warnings: vomiting, talk about pregnancy, talk about over-the-counter drugs. notes:

hiiii requester! i'm so glad ur here and got me writing something fluffy i've been way too angsty lately !

i've never done this basic sick trope, hope it went well

originally wanted to do sick auston but ehhhhh

this was a quick write so apologies for typos if there are any

***

You fell asleep after cooking dinner, patiently waiting for your boyfriend’s return from his road trip. You’re still not used to the whole WAG thing—having him away half the time—but every time he comes back, you make it your mission to give him the best welcome and show how much you missed him, whether through a home-cooked meal or… other things. Except today, it feels different.

First, it’s the runny nose. Then, the scratchy, sore throat. Soon enough, you feel like a zombie, but you power through to make dinner, even though Auston texts you to let you know their plane from Minneapolis is delayed. Still—if you finish cooking now, you can get some sleep and hope this awful bug you seem to have caught will pass soon.

The Dayquil you took must be messing with your brain because even though you’re no longer fully asleep, you barely register your dog leaping off the couch, his paws padding on the hardwood floor as he goes down the hallway to investigate the sound of the door opening. Soon enough, his footsteps are accompanied by heavier ones—and a voice. “I’m… home?” Auston says, his voice getting smaller as he realizes your predicament.

The sound of Auston’s voice tugs you out of your foggy, fever-dazed state, though you can only half-process it. Your brain feels like mush, your limbs heavy and tangled in the blankets on the couch. You hear your dog’s tail thumping on the floor, a traitor in this situation because you’d much rather sink into the cushions and disappear than acknowledge anyone’s presence right now.

“Hey…” His voice is softer now, footsteps echoing in the quiet house. You try to blink away the haze, but your eyelids feel like lead. Your throat burns, your head throbs, and for some reason, Auston still seems far away—like you’re watching him through a foggy lens.

The blanket you’ve buried yourself under rustles as he gently peels it back, revealing the disheveled mess that is you. “Oh, baby…” Auston’s voice is filled with concern, and his hand is warm as it cups your cheek, turning your head toward him. His thumb traces over your skin, wiping away what’s probably a mixture of sweat and sleep.

“Feel like I got hit by a truck,” you rasp, your voice cracking. That sore throat has escalated to full-on gravelly. Perfect.

Auston chuckles, but it’s laced with worry. “You look like it too, honestly.”

You groan, pushing his hand away weakly. “I wanted to surprise you with dinner, not look like a hot mess.”

He doesn’t respond to that, instead sitting beside you on the couch and pulling you into him, tucking your head under his chin. You feel his heartbeat against your cheek, the steady thump soothing despite the illness clouding your head. His arms wrap around you, strong and comforting, his presence like a warm blanket—way better than the scratchy one you threw on yourself earlier.

“You don’t need to do anything special. Just rest,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your forehead. You feel the coolness of his hand stroke your arm, almost rhythmic, as if he thinks he can rub the sickness out of you.

You shift in his embrace, trying to find a comfortable position, but your body feels stiff and achy. “I was fine earlier,” you mumble against his chest, though your voice is hardly convincing. “Thought it was just allergies or something.”

Auston laughs softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Yeah, because allergies totally make you look like a zombie.” He shifts so you’re lying down, your head resting on his lap now as his hand strokes your hair. “You should’ve told me you weren’t feeling good. I could’ve picked up something on the way back.”

You crack an eye open, just enough to glare at him. “I didn’t want to be a bother. You’re the one who had a long road trip.”

He rolls his eyes, and you can feel him adjust, leaning forward just enough to kiss the top of your head. “You’re not a bother. You’re literally my favorite person. Sick or not.”

That warmth in your chest spreads, despite the fact that your stomach is doing flips now—whether from his sweetness or the bug, you can’t tell. Probably both. You press your face into his leg, hiding your blush behind a groan. “Ugh, stop being so cute. You’re gonna make me throw up.”

Auston grins down at you. “I’d rather that not happen. But hey, if you do, I’ll hold your hair back.”

“Such a gentleman,” you say, rolling your eyes.

Your stomach, however, decides it has a different plan. As if on cue, a wave of nausea hits you out of nowhere, and you shoot upright, nearly headbutting Auston in the process. He moves with alarming quickness, his hands on your shoulders as you scramble to your feet.

“Baby, are you—” He doesn’t even finish the question before you bolt, making a beeline for the bathroom. You barely make it to the toilet before your stomach betrays you, and you regret every life choice that led you to this moment.

Auston is right behind you, crouching down beside you, and without missing a beat, he gathers your hair in his hands, pulling it back gently as you retch. “Shh, I’ve got you,” he soothes, his voice barely a whisper. He rubs your back in slow circles, the motion comforting even as you feel like death warmed over.

Your limbs feel like jelly as you lean over the toilet bowl, the cool porcelain a brief relief against the firestorm in your stomach. The nausea finally starts to subside, leaving you in that weird limbo between feeling terrible and somehow worse because your body has emptied everything it possibly could. Auston is still beside you, one hand gently brushing your hair away from your face, the other rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back.

"You okay?" he murmurs, his voice so soft it barely reaches your ears.

You want to lie. You want to tell him you’re fine and that you can just get back to the couch, but the effort feels monumental. So, instead, you give a half-hearted thumbs up, the universal sign of I'm alive, but barely. You can almost feel Auston’s chuckle before you hear it—a low rumble in his chest that he tries to suppress, clearly more focused on being the supportive boyfriend right now than the snarky one.

“I’m… I’m okay, really,” you croak, trying to muster some dignity despite the situation. Your hair sticks to your face in places, and you can still taste the sour remnants of your last meal. Dignity is a lost cause at this point.

"Yeah, you look great," he deadpans, though his hands never stop their comforting movements. His concern is palpable, like a storm cloud hanging over both of you. Then, after a beat, he asks quietly, "Do you think you're... you know, pregnant?"

The question hits you like a ton of bricks. You blink, staring at the tiles in front of you for a moment as your brain tries to process what he just said. “Pregnant?” Your voice cracks, more bewildered than anything.

He shifts behind you, and when you turn your head slightly, you catch the tail end of his nervous expression—chewing on the inside of his cheek like he always does when he’s thinking too hard. “I mean, you’re sick, and tired, and you threw up, and…” His voice trails off awkwardly, like he’s walking a verbal tightrope.

You stare at him, blinking slowly as the words sink in. Then you snort. Actually snort. You probably look ridiculous—kneeling in front of a toilet bowl, hair a mess, face flushed with fever, and now choking on laughter. “Auston,” you manage to get out between chuckles, “I am not pregnant.”

His brow furrows in confusion, clearly not convinced. "How do you know? I mean, we weren’t exactly—" He fumbles for the right words, his ears going a little pink. "Careful."

You laugh weakly, waving a hand. “Trust me. This is not the immaculate conception. I’m just sick.” You groan, leaning back against the bathroom wall. “Why is it that anytime a woman feels like crap, people jump to ‘pregnant’?”

Auston sits beside you, stretching out his legs as he leans back, mimicking your posture. He’s still watching you with concern, though the edge softens into something more playful. “Well, you didn’t exactly rule it out, and now I’m over here freaking out,” he mutters, nudging your arm lightly.

“I mean, unless I caught this flu from immaculate baby Jesus, you’re gonna be fine,” you teased, even though you could feel your body still shivering from the remnants of your fever. “It’s just a bug. I’ll live. Probably.” You closed your eyes for a second, letting the coolness of the tile press into your back. It was oddly soothing.

Auston exhales slowly, then wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you toward him with gentle insistence. "Okay, fine. But you’re taking a pregnancy test tomorrow just to double-check." He pauses, his lips brushing lightly against your temple. "For my peace of mind."

You turn your head slightly, eyes narrowing in playful suspicion. “You’re that nervous about it?”

"You literally do my laundry, baby." he quips, but his smirk is soft, a far cry from the usual teasing gleam in his eyes.

As you slump against the bathroom wall, the cool tile pressing into your overheated skin, you feel the fatigue deep in your bones. Every muscle aches, and the nausea drains you, but the ridiculousness of the situation still bubbles in the back of your mind. You can’t help but crack a small smile despite it all. Auston, freaking out about the possibility of becoming a dad, all because you caught a stupid bug.

You open your eyes just a sliver, catching sight of him sitting beside you, still so close, like he’s afraid you might keel over any second. His brows are drawn together, worry lines creasing his forehead as his gaze flicks between you and the toilet. God, he really is concerned. The thought tugs at something warm in your chest, even as your stomach twists in unpleasant ways. He cares so much, and even though you feel like death, it’s kind of adorable.

“I promise I’m not pregnant,” you croak, voice still hoarse, though you try to make it sound reassuring. “But honestly… you’d be a great dad.” You’re not even sure why you say it—maybe it’s the fever, or maybe the meds messing with your brain—but the moment the words are out, you see his eyes soften. A flicker of something deeper crosses his face—surprise, maybe? But it’s quickly replaced by a tenderness that makes your chest ache in a different way.

His arms slide around you, and you let him pull you into his warmth, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your cheek. “I don’t know about that,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the top of your head. “Like I said, I can barely take care of myself sometimes.”

You scoff, though it comes out more like a weak wheeze. “Please. You know I don’t mind doing it, and you’re already taking care of me right now. You’d do just fine.” You nuzzle into him, the weight of your exhaustion pulling at your eyelids. Everything feels heavy, but his embrace is grounding—like being wrapped up in your favorite blanket, only warmer and so much more comforting. You could stay here forever, tucked under his chin, breathing in his familiar scent, the steady rise and fall of his chest lulling you into a momentary calm.

Auston chuckles softly, his fingers now brushing through your hair, untangling the mess with gentle strokes. “Well, if this is a preview of dad life,” he teases, though his voice is still thick with concern, “I guess I better start practicing.”

You hum, not really able to come up with a witty reply. You’re too focused on the way his thumb traces soothing patterns over your arm, each motion slow and deliberate. It’s as if he thinks his touch alone can magically make the sickness disappear. Honestly, if anyone could will you back to health, it’d probably be him. That thought alone makes your heart squeeze a little tighter.

Then, without warning, your stomach lurches again, and you scramble to sit up, pushing against Auston’s chest with a panicked look in your eyes. “No, no, no—” you groan, but it’s too late. He moves quickly, helping you back toward the toilet just as another wave of nausea hits.

This time, it isn’t as bad—your body has already rid itself of whatever it could, but still, you kneel there, heaving and gagging, feeling absolutely miserable. Auston never leaves your side, though, still holding your hair back like it’s his personal mission to keep you from suffering alone.

By the time you’re done, the nausea subsides into a dull ache, leaving you feeling empty and more exhausted than ever. You sag against the toilet, eyes closed, breathing slowly as you try to steady yourself. Auston’s hand is on your back again, those familiar, slow circles that bring some small semblance of relief.

“I think… I’m officially dying,” you mumble, voice barely above a whisper.

He huffs a quiet laugh. “Well, you can’t die yet. I haven’t carried you to bed.”

You crack an eye open, looking up at him through your lashes. “You’re not actually gonna carry me, are you?”

“Watch me.”

Before you can protest, Auston scoops you up effortlessly, one arm under your knees and the other around your back, cradling you against his chest. You blink in surprise, though part of you is too tired to argue. His body is solid beneath you, and you feel strangely weightless in his arms. For a moment, you let yourself lean into him, closing your eyes again as the room sways gently with each step he takes.

“I told you I’m fine,” you murmur, though your voice lacks conviction.

“And I told you I’d carry you,” he replies softly, his lips brushing the top of your head again. His steps are slow, careful, like he’s afraid to jostle you too much. It’s oddly comforting, being cared for so thoroughly when you’re at your worst. You can feel the warmth of his body seeping into your own, his steady breathing a contrast to the chaotic mess that is your fevered mind.

When he reaches the bedroom, he sets you down gently on the bed, pulling the covers up around you with such tenderness it makes your chest ache again. You watch him as he moves around the room—grabbing a glass of water, adjusting the pillows, making sure you’re as comfortable as possible. Every small action feels like a testament to how much he cares, even when you feel like a walking disaster.

As you settle into the covers, warmth floods over you, and for a brief moment, it’s like the illness has loosened its relentless grip. Auston stands at the edge of the bed, arms crossed, his brow knitted with that familiar crease of worry. It’s a look he often gets when you’re upset or hurt—a furrowed expression that makes his normally relaxed face seem older, more serious. You hate seeing him like that.

“Babe, you really don’t need to…” you trail off as Auston climbs into bed beside you without hesitation. His body, solid and reassuring, sinks into the mattress, and you feel the familiar dip as he scoots closer, trying to nestle himself against your side. Usually, cuddling with him is the best—all warmth and muscle—but today, you’re not having it.

“Auston,” you rasp, a half-hearted protest bubbling up in your throat, “I don’t want you to catch this.” You’re all too aware of your clammy skin and the fact that you probably look like death warmed over, but his warmth is impossible to resist. Still, you try to shift away, though the effort is weak at best.

“Like I care,” he murmurs, voice soft as his arm loops around your waist, pulling you back toward him. His hand slips under the blanket, warm against your chilled skin as he rubs small circles on your back. You can practically hear the concern in the way his breath hitches every time you cough, the way his body tenses when you wince.

Your mind is foggy, caught in a web of fever and exhaustion, but you still manage a weak chuckle. “You say that now, but wait until you’re bedridden, too. You’ll regret this.”

He huffs a laugh, but the sound is more exasperation than humor. “I’ve got a strong immune system. You won’t get rid of me that easily.”

Despite yourself, you can’t help but relax a little in his embrace, even though your brain keeps flashing warning signs. You don’t want to be responsible for passing this awful sickness on to him, but god, he feels so solid, so steady. Like if you just let yourself melt into him for a little longer, maybe the world will stop spinning and the aches in your bones will fade away.

But of course, you can’t make it that easy. “You’re too close,” you mumble, weakly pushing at his chest, though there’s no real force behind it. “I’m serious, Auston. I’m a walking plague right now.”

“Plague or not, I’m staying right here.” His voice is soft, but there’s an edge of stubbornness to it—like he’s daring you to try and get rid of him. “Besides, I’ve been exposed already. If I’m gonna get sick, it’s too late now.”

You want to argue, but the way his thumb traces the curve of your jaw, so gently and so deliberately, is enough to silence any protests that might’ve formed. It’s ridiculous, really—here you are, a fever-ridden mess, and all you can think about is how warm and comforting his touch feels.

A small sigh escapes your lips, the last of your resistance crumbling as you let yourself sink against him. “You’re a stubborn idiot,” you mutter, though there’s no real bite to the words.

Auston chuckles, his breath warm against your temple. “I’m your stubborn idiot.”

A faint smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, despite the pounding headache that still lingers at your temples. “You’re lucky I love you,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper now, too tired to muster anything more.

His arms tighten around you, pulling you impossibly closer as if he can protect you from the sickness wreaking havoc on your body. His chin rests on the top of your head, and you can hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat—slow, even, so unlike your own rapid, fevered pulse. It’s grounding in a way, that simple sound, like the whole world has narrowed down to just the two of you in this bed.

“I’d do anything for you, baby,” he whispers, his voice so soft you almost don’t catch it. “Even if it means catching the flu.”

You try to respond, but the exhaustion is relentless, each wave of it pulling you further under, like you’re sinking into a pool of molasses, slow and suffocating. Yet somehow, despite the feverish fog clouding your brain, you’re hyperaware of everything—the scratch of the sheets against your skin, the soft hum of the air conditioner, and especially Auston. His arms around you are solid, like a lifeline anchoring you in the midst of your internal chaos, and you cling to him, desperate for any kind of grounding.

He hasn’t moved an inch since he settled in beside you, his hold unyielding but gentle, and despite everything—the nausea, the headache, the overall grossness of being sick—you can’t help but feel a tiny bit grateful. For all his stubbornness, for all his insistence on staying close even when you’re very clearly the embodiment of every flu symptom combined, he’s making it better, somehow. Just by being there. Just by being Auston.

Your breath hitches as another cough wracks your chest, making you wince, but his hand is already there, smoothing up and down your back in soothing strokes, like he knows exactly how much it hurts without you having to say a word. The touch is slow, methodical, as if he thinks it might heal you, and part of you wishes it could. You lean into it, letting out a small, defeated sigh as your body sags further into the mattress, too tired to hold up its own weight.

“Baby, you okay?” His voice is a low murmur, barely above a whisper, but you feel the concern threading through it. You hear it in the way he holds his breath every time you cough, the way his body tenses every time you shift, like he’s bracing himself for something worse.

“I’m fine,” you rasp, though the words come out strained, barely audible through your hoarse throat. You feel the scratchiness like sandpaper with every syllable. “Just… tired.”

His hand doesn’t stop moving, sliding from your back to your arm, then back up again, a slow, deliberate pattern. You can feel the weight of his gaze on you, like he’s studying every little twitch, every breath. It’s almost ridiculous, how serious he is about it all, but then again, it’s Auston. He’s always been like this—quietly intense, all his emotions simmering beneath the surface but never quite spilling over. Right now, though, it feels like the concern is leaking through the cracks.

You tilt your head just enough to peek up at him, catching the sight of his brow still furrowed in that familiar crease of worry. His lips are pressed into a thin line, and you can practically see the wheels turning in his head, like he’s trying to figure out how to fix it, how to make you feel better when there’s really nothing he can do. The sight tugs at something deep in your chest, that same warmth you always feel when you catch him being so… him.

“Hey,” you croak, your voice barely above a whisper, but he turns his head instantly, his attention snapping to you. “Can you, um…” You trail off, too tired to finish the sentence, but the question is already there in your mind, lingering on your lips. You just can’t seem to get it out.

Auston raises an eyebrow, waiting patiently for you to continue. His hand never stops its slow, soothing pattern on your back, and it’s both comforting and a little distracting.

“Can you, like… talk to me?” The words tumble out in a rushed breath, and you close your eyes for a second, feeling heat creep up your cheeks despite the fever. “About your road trip or whatever. Distract me.”

For a moment, there’s silence, and you crack an eye open, only to see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “You want me to talk about the games?” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice now, but it’s gentle, soft. “You never ask me to talk about hockey.”

You manage a weak chuckle, though it quickly turns into another cough, making you groan. “Yeah, well… desperate times, Matthews. Desperate times.”

He laughs, a quiet sound that rumbles low in his chest, and you feel it more than hear it. “Alright, alright,” he relents, his voice dropping back to that soft, soothing tone. “Where do you want me to start? Game one? The flights? The boys?”

“Anything,” you mumble, eyes already fluttering shut as the sound of his voice wraps around you like a blanket. “Just… keep talking.”

Auston hums in thought, his fingers now trailing through your hair, untangling the mess with the same careful attention he gives everything else. “Okay,” he says, his voice low and soothing as his hand stills for a moment, like he’s gathering his thoughts. “Let’s see… well, first off, the travel sucked as usual. You’d think after all these years, we’d get better planes, but nope. Same old uncomfortable seats, same old cramped legroom.”

You hum, grateful for the distraction as you focus on the cadence of his voice. Auston’s travel complaints are nothing new, but there’s something comforting in the way he talks about it, like it’s part of the routine, something steady in the middle of everything else that feels like it’s spinning out of control.

“And then, of course, Mitch and Willy were at it again, arguing about who has the better Spotify playlist. Mitch swears by his ‘pump-up’ songs, but I’m telling you, Willy listens to the weirdest stuff. One minute it’s Swedish rap, and the next, it’s some random indie band no one’s ever heard of. He tries to get me to listen, but I just—" He pauses, catching himself, his hand rubbing your arm now. "Sorry, am I boring you?"

You manage a small smile, though it probably looks more like a grimace. “No. Keep going. Anything’s better than thinking about how close I am to throwing up again.”

Auston chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through his chest where you’re nestled against him. “Alright, well, the games were solid. You know, nothing too crazy. Played a lot of good defense—made some good plays. I’ll spare you the details.” He glances down at you, his eyes meeting yours for a moment, and you catch the warmth in his gaze. “You’d probably fall asleep if I started breaking down the power plays.”

“I might fall asleep anyway,” you murmur, your eyelids heavy as his fingers brush a stray strand of hair away from your face. “But, like… in a good way. Your voice is nice.”

He grins at that, and you feel the shift in the way he holds you, like he’s relaxing just a little, relieved to see you even a fraction more comfortable. “Thanks,” he whispers as he pulls you a little closer, resting his chin on the top of your head now. “I’ll keep talking then. What else… Oh, yeah, you would’ve laughed at Mitch trying to prank me. He thought he could sneak up on me after practice and dump water down my back, but I saw him coming from a mile away. I let him think he was being slick, though—right up until I turned around and drenched him instead.”

A weak laugh bubbles up in your throat, though it quickly turns into a cough. Auston immediately shifts, his hand rubbing your back as the coughing fit passes. “Okay, maybe no more making you laugh,” he says, genuine concern in his voice now. “Sorry, baby.”

You wave him off, still catching your breath. “No, no, it’s fine. I needed that. Distract me more. Tell me something else stupid Mitch did.”

Auston smirks, settling back into the pillows and pulling you with him, his body curving around yours protectively. “Well, there was this one time during warm-ups where he—"

As he continues, the warmth of his voice washes over you like a balm, each word lulling you further into a state of calm. It’s ridiculous, really, how much comfort you find in him recounting these silly stories, but right now, it’s exactly what you need. Just him, here, distracting you from the misery of being sick.

You close your eyes, letting the sound of Auston’s voice blend into the background, the rise and fall of his chest beneath you becoming the most grounding thing in the world. You’re not sure when you start to drift, but at some point, his words fade into a soft murmur, and you find yourself teetering on the edge of sleep.

The last thing you remember is the feel of his fingers brushing through your hair one last time, his voice a soft hum in your ear as he whispers, “I love you. Get some rest, baby.”

[pricegouge]

Thinking about them cumming in readers underwear and having her wear it around

I feel like Price would love the claiming aspect of it but I think Ghost or Gaz would just be annoyed the underwear is in the way of easy access

I feel like Johnny would enjoy huffing and licking them😌

-🫀

Never enough that they're gross, is it? They just gotta make doll a mess, too.

Cw: dubcon. Squirting. Gaz calls it piss so take that as you will. No ageplay here but the panties are cutesy and reader doesn't like it. Cum play/implied eating. Extremely light spit kink. Degradation. Praise, but not for reader. Cuckolding? Free use. Please lmk if I forgot anything this is way too long and way too nasty.

It's rare that Kyle initiates so you should've known he was up to something when he pulled you in close for a kiss. He's so good at it though that you forgot to be suspicious, just reveled in his soft lips and warm hands until he got your bottoms off, slid a finger under the scalloped edging of your panties. "These are cute," he said with a sly grin and you might've rolled your eyes, if you didn't know what it would earn you.

Cute was one word for them, you supposed. Borderline childish would be another. They're not egregious. Pale blue cotton briefs with white clouds dotting them. The trim is minimal, doesn't even scratch at your skin, thankfully, but it's the only thing about them that could possibly be construed as a concession to maturity. Still, you thank him for the compliment instead of telling him how they make you feel completely sexless. You move to take them off for him but his hand catches your wrist, uses his grip to turn you over onto all fours.

"Let's leave 'em on, luv," he hums and you bite back a sigh. At least in this position you don't really have to see them, you think, but he makes it hard to ignore their presence when he starts rubbing his leaky cock into the fabric of your gusset. "Fuck, that's hot," he groans, but doesn't take his time to enjoy it, slotting his cock under the hem so he can rub himself between your cheeks instead. 

It's the noises he makes that get you wet more than anything, the soft huffs when his sensitive head catches on the edging and the tiny, shaky moans he lets loose every time you feel the warmth of his precum bloom across your skin. He can see it, no doubt - the pale fabric clinging to his cock as it begins to soak. He knows instinctively when you start to leak, long fingers wrapping around your hip to rub your pussy through the thin layer. The cotton feels different when it's coated with your juices - almost softer when he works it against your clit. He teases you about it, about how he doesn't even need to touch your pussy properly to get you soaked. You can't really argue with him so you don't, shame licking up your spine when he slots his cock into you unexpectedly - bottoming out in one slow thrust as he keeps working your clit with that rough scrape of fabric and you can't help it, your release soaking you both as it drips down your legs. 

"Shit," Gaz growls, his cock pushed out of your cunt by how hard you try to squeeze him. He slots himself between your cheeks again, free hand laying flat over your ass to give himself something to thrust between. When he cums, he pulls back enough that you can feel it drip onto the rim of your hole, hot and slick where he works his tip against it. It catches once and you squirm away, prompting Kyle to crack you on the ass. It stings, the wet material of your panties doing nothing to help. You yelp, but remain obediently still for him as he winds himself down until he sighs, borderline affectionate.

You roll over when he climbs off you, eager to clean yourself up after the mess he's made but Kyle grabs your hands yet again and tuts at you. "Told you they're cute. Leave 'em on."

He takes some pity when you wrinkle your nose, kneeling before you to soak up most of the mess from your legs and tummy with the soiled blanket. You thank him prettily, hoping if you appease him he'll leave sooner and you can change out of your panties, but Gaz doesn't even seem to listen, pulling a big sharpie out of his pocket instead of acknowledging you. 

"What're you -?"

The felt tip is surprisingly cool when it meets your skin. Gaz's handwriting is neat, making it easy for you to read as he scrawls the word 'cumdump' across your belly. You gape down at him, and the bastard has the audacity to wink as he etches a singular tally mark into your thigh. 

"Gaz!" you shriek, testing your limits, but he just laughs, throwing your pants at you.

"You keep those on. And you keep this," he wags the marker at you, "in your pocket, yeah? Make sure everyone adds to your little collection." 

You're shaking your head before you can even think it through and Gaz pinches the fat on the back of your thigh aggressively. 

"You will, because I'm going to be checking throughout the day to make sure, and if you're not wearing them, or if they're not getting messier, I'm gonna make you lick them clean," he promises. "Dried, tacky cum, piss stains and all."

"That's not fair," you gripe, already pulling your pants on. "I can't control whether or not the others wanna fuck me."

"Well then I guess you better be sweet on 'em, hm?"

***

The panties are absurdly uncomfortable. With your pants on, the thick spend doesn't dry out as easily as you'd hoped it would and worse, the possibility that anyone could potentially smell your wet cunt makes your face heat - makes you drip like a faucet, honestly, but in the end, it's not the smell that does you in. 

You hadn't considered the jeans Gaz had thrown at you for longer than it took to ascertain you (blessedly) wouldn't be wearing a skirt today. When you'd pulled them on, you'd felt nothing but relief for how well-covered you were, not wanting to wander the warehouse in something they could easily push aside because they often did, and if you weren't allowed to clean yourself up after, it would've been a complete nightmare. But in your short-lived elation, you'd failed to notice how pale the wash of the jeans was, how easily wet marks would show.

Simon notices before you do, stalking silently behind you as you move about the small kitchen making sandwiches. No warning, he grabs you by the seat of your pants, big hand worming its way between your thighs to rub thick fingers along the seam of your crotch. His voice is a low pur when he rumbles in your ear, "Need help with that, pet?"

It should shock you - would've even just a few months ago. You've grown used to them now, no longer surprised when they accost you like this. It's one of the few reasons you're allowed to handle butter knives now - because you don't spin around, brandishing it at him wildly.

"No thanks, almost done here," you tell him, calmly assembling the last sandwich. John's, to be eaten later when he was off the phone. 

Simon just chuckles, a little mean. "Not what I meant."

This time, when he pushes his fingers against your seam, you can feel how wet it is against your own skin. You squawk, your first instinct to apologize for some reason. Simon shushes your stuttering with a kiss, his tongue hot and wet even through the material of his mask. 

Simon doesn't usually like a show. Normally, he'll sequester you in a back room, or seek you out in your own when the others have all gone to bed. He changes his tune when his hands get a little too busy, tug your hem up just enough that he catches a glimpse of the ink that stains your skin. He frowns, backing up enough he can read Gaz's mark properly while you sit there and squirm. 

You don't make it to a back room.

"Fuckin' slag," Simon hisses, shoving your jeans down your hips. His fingers find the band of your briefs, pull as if he intends to tear them.

"Wait!" you plead, fingers wrapping around his wrist as if you have any chance of stopping him. It does give him pause, though, more curious as to what could possibly be so important it made you forget your place. "Gaz said I had to leave those on."

The band snaps against your skin when Simon releases it, but he cocks his head at you, undecided. "And why the fuck do I care what Gaz wants?"

"Please, he said he'd make me lick them clean if I took them off."

Expression still thoughtful, Simon pulls at the band again until he can inspect the gusset, eyes glinting when he looks back up at you. "Not seeing a downside for me."

Shit. "I'll let you add to my tally." 'Let' is a strong word and you both know it, though Simon likely doesn't know Gaz expected you to have it added anyway.

"Not much of a cumdump," Simon points out, thumb brushing the single mark on your thigh. 

You bat your eyes at him, overselling but desperate to appeal to his good side. You really don't want to clean these off. "Help me out then?" 

He fucks your thighs. Stood up in the kitchen and squeezing him as best you can, you end up having to hold onto his burly biceps for dear life as he rocks you against his heavy cock, spilling into your panties without so much as a pinch to your clit. 

***

You're back in your room when Gaz finds you. He pulls your pants off and inspects your underwear much like Simon had, grinning up at you when he says he's just checking. He spits in them before he lets you pull them back into place.

***

"Johnny, don't, Gaz said to keep them on." The worst thing about Soap was how little he listened. The best thing was that you were generally allowed to slap his hands away from you, so long as John or Simon didn't see. Johnny himself never seemed to mind too much, always bouncing back. Overeager.

"But she's so wet, bonnie. Can smell her. Need a taste."

You were, was the worst of it. Leaking like a sieve ever since Simon had left you wanting. It was why you'd retired to your gross little room, too embarrassed to be seen with such an obvious, growing wet spot on your crotch. Suddenly, it's hard to remember why letting Johnny lick you clean is a bad idea. "Well, maybe if you slide them to the side?"

You barely have time to register his movements, he's on you so fast. 

The first pass of his tongue is so slick you almost don't feel it beyond the intense heat. Johnny moans, smacks his lips like a child enjoying a cookie, and then dives back in so enthusiastically you can't help but grip his hair, holding him in place as he immediately starts in on the messiest technique he can manage, pulling your slick from you with a cupped tongue just so he can rub his raw stubble against your sticky skin. He moans when you do, breath humid and hot against your skin. You hold your panties off to the side for him, the wetness there dragging against the crease of your hip. It's all so messy, but you can't help rocking your hips up to meet Johnny's tongue, groaning in frustration when he pulls away and -

"Nobody ever teach you how a cumdump works, boy?"

John. He's holding Soap up by the back of his shirt, as if the massive man was nothing more than a spitting kitten, his eyes heavy on the mess between your legs. 

"Sir -."

"Supposed to add to it, Soap, not clean it up." A heavy palm guides Johnny to the floor, patting him affectionately when he settles on his knees, eyes darting nervously between you and the captain. "All that spit, just watering down Gaz's collection."

"Wasnae -."

"Quiet. You watch now, yeah? Show you how to treat a fucking whore."

You know better than to gripe about his words, so you don't. And you know better than to fight him when he snaps your panties back into place, so you let him. Johnny, however, doesn't know better than to whine when John's fingers find your clit, start rubbing the soaked fabric against your neglected nub much like Gaz had earlier. You bite your tongue, but Johnny doesn't - a sharp huff drawing John's attention away for just a moment.

"Don't wanna hear it, Soap."

"Sir, can ah -?"

"No."

This time Johnny's whine coincides with John's thumb dropping lower, dipping the fabric of your panties into your pussy experimentally. Your breath stutters, loud enough that John's eyes snap to your face. Cold, hard. Unsympathetic. He speaks to Johnny but he never looks away from you.

"Behave and I'll let you lick them clean after."

You perk up, the possibility of your punishment being taken from you by the captain - who Gaz could not reproach - making you just as eager to please as Soap himself was. Though you were a little better about hiding it than the man who thanked John repeatedly from his place on the floor.

"Thank ye, cap. Thank ye -."

"That's enough."

"Aye, sir."

Finally, John's focus returns to his actions, watching almost reverently as you soak the material even more. Quietly, as if he doesn't want Soap to hear, he rumbles at you about getting them good and wet and you nod, eager to let Johnny take your punishment.

And then he slaps your mound lightly, breaking the nearly intimate spell between you. "But we have to show the boy how to treat a slut like you, don't we? Which means you're gonna cum on my cock, or not at all."

You groan in frustration, laying back limply as John clutches the gusset of your panties and pulls them aside (hypocrite). He doesn't bother working you open, knows exactly what state you've been left in by the slick that squelches between his fingers where he fists your briefs. Still, John's big, and the stretch leaves you breathless enough you feel punched out, hollow when he gives you no time to adjust before drawing out again, slamming back into you even more brutally.

True to his word, John does not work to bring you pleasure. The way he fucks you is efficient at best, downright punishing at worst. Regardless, worked up as you are, you find your release when his knuckles graze your clit accidentally, and John laughs at you cruelly as you fall apart beneath him. 

"Knew you were a fucking slag," he grunts, pulling out and fisting his cock until he paints your pussy, rocking against it a few times just to make you both twitch in overstimulation. 

It takes you both a moment to realize the slick sounds don't stop when he does, and a quick glance at Johnny tells you why when you find him fucking his own fist, face twisted in pleasure as he eyes your soaked pussy.

"You waste that on the floor and I'll make you lick that up too," John growls, and suddenly you're being manhandled to the ground, spread open in front of Soap while John holds your legs open.

The chords of Soap's neck jump when he cums, pumping himself directly onto the front of your panties. 

"Good boy, Soap. Just like that," John rumbles. Your gut twists, unexpectedly jealous. "See how much better it is when you don't worry about her pleasure?"

"Aye, sir," Johnny pants, looking dazed enough to agree with anything. 

"That's right, cause she's just our little cumdump, isn't she?" He makes you jump when he slaps you pussy for emphasis before hooking his fingers under the band of your panties, sliding them down.

"Ready for your reward?"

[ninibeingdelulu]

“I can’t say it, but I can show you.”

plot- you and megumi are literal soulmates CLICK ME

The warm caress of the late afternoon sun bathed the quiet residential streets in a burnished amber glow.

A few wispy clouds drifted lazily across the watercolor sky as you strolled hand-in-hand down the gently winding path - shoulders brushing together in a comforting cadence.

A contented smile tugged at the corners of your lips without conscious effort, simply brimming from the pure sense of tranquility and belonging radiating from Megumi's reassuring presence at your side.

For most, the amiable silence blanketing your unhurried amble might have felt stifling or awkward. But for you, it felt like slipping into the most luxurious silken embrace imaginable.

Because in these rare moments of respite away from the pressures of jujutsu duties and expectations, Megumi's reticent stoicism transformed into something far more intimate and soothing than words could convey.

The subtle shift in his powerful physique releasing the last few taut lines of tension thrumming beneath the surface. The rhythmic tandem of your strides unconsciously falling into perfect synced alignment.

Even the seemingly aloof mask etched into his striking features appeared to melt away layer by infinitesimal layer with each passing second - vulnerability beginning to bleed through in the softer sweep of jet-black lashes and the downturn of full lips no longer thinned into such a tense line.

As if basking in the simple freedom to exist as nothing more than two kindred souls finding solace in the uncomplicated solitude they shared.

You allowed your own gaze to drift over and drink in those subtle metamorphoses unraveling across Megumi's striking visage.

The profound lump of affection that swelled fiercely in your chest with each fresh nuance now permitted to shine through in the wake of his carefully constructed defenses crumbling away.

The corner of his eyes crinkled almost imperceptibly as though reveling in the naked rapture undisguised across your own countenance with few words exchanged beyond occasional murmurs and meaningful glances.

And yet every fleeting brush of his thumb slowly circling the back of your knuckles in idle patterns radiated the volumes left unspoken between you across that sacred expanse where your palms and soul prints melded as one.

His arm unconsciously guiding yours closer to his body's unyielding warmth whenever a passing vehicle roared a bit too close to the sidewalk for comfort.

Unobtrusive gestures that still managed to whisper soft as a lovers' caress about the tethers binding your essences in perfect symbiosis.

Nothing felt more precious to you in those suspended moments of stillness - sheltered from the world's harsh realities within this gossamer veil of sublime serenity and unspoken devotion - than to simply bask in the spellbinding ephemera of Megumi's rarefied affections.

No grand declarations or flowery endearments could hope to outshine the transcendent rapture of fully immersing yourself in their quietly smoldering sincerity.

To surrender utterly to the paradox of feeling seen, known, adored down to your most vulnerable essence by this extraordinary man for whom emotional intimacy was arguably more profound than any carnal indulgence or poetic pining could ever achieve.

A love deeper and more resilient than even death's unyielding permanence blazing white-hot at the cores of two souls now navigating the twilight path as perfect mirrors - already eternal by virtue of their unshakable union.

[popponn]

Hihi, im the same anon that loves ur page!!

the froggys are seriously silly :)

Anyways, can i request some hcs abt bllk boys with a reader who's going thru a depressive episode? im just goin thru stuff rn, if u can't its fine.

So, hows ur day been?

I hope you're well

have a great day! <33

byebye💖

notes: anonnie;;; i hope you are feeling better when you finally read this;;; this took so long, im sorry. i have been busy and there are lot of things going on, but i am fine thank you for asking :> and hey, a depressive episode could be tough. but you got this! okay? try to take it slow and step by step, drink water, eat food, and move around a bit. a light walk or a stretch is okay. like how the clouds always change, things will change. i hope reading this could give you a little happiness, especially when you need it.

isagi

if you are looking for someone who will listen and give practical advice without dismissing your feelings or concerns, honestly he is the one. especially as a boyfriend, you can trust him to be the one who will sit beside you on the sofa while wrapping you in the blanket. will ask you what you want to eat and the moment you decide to fight the cold hard life back, don’t worry, your isagi yoichi will be your #1 supporter! especially if you guys have spent more time in the relationship, he really is good at balancing giving comfort while still giving you trust to walk on your own. though he sometimes couldn’t 100% understand your point of view, but the sincerity in his effort to be always there for you is no joke. he promised every part of him he could give to you and he means every word of it.

bachira

who hurt his baby—he will fight it. somehow. he has this odd sixth sense when it comes to you. just with a glance, he will immediately get how down you feel and what you need. a joke and a cheer up along with many kisses? coming right up. a listener who will hug you like a koala? do you want to do that while cuddling in the bed or in public in front of his friends because he won’t hesitate honestly. just say what you want—if he must eat a cake messily like 5 year old to make you laugh then so be it. will get you out for recreation the moment he could and if he couldn’t that means it’s time for his creativity to shine (and boy does it always shine). but if the one that makes you feel down is someone, bachira is not one for violence but he could you know. if you want. (please stop him.)

rin

if you don’t cry, at best he will be an awkward listener—but a good listener nonetheless. if you cry, though, honestly he will panic. this guy is already not good with his own emotions, so you need to be clear about what you want with him. he is not the best with words though, and advice he offers is usually either “let me just fix this for you” or a straight up detached, objective one that is better offered to someone with a cool head and controlled emotion. therefore, more often than not, he opts to just listen and hold your hand. he will try to help, though, and if he can’t—at the very least you will get a really menacing guard dog who won’t let anyone mess with you while you are trying to get up. (also, go tell him to buy something. his credit card is ready and feeling like he is doing something for you is good for the both of you.)

sae

itoshi gene is harsh and he is somehow worse than his brother in this scenario. he is a naturally critical person towards anything. if you are ready to get your fault pointed out and think up a “what can i do to make this better or avoid this from happening again” go to him, but if you are looking for someone who will listen or give validation, as much as you love him, don’t. him and a terrible headspace is not a good combination. however, a direct “can you hug me?” or a “can you do something for me?” is not completely out of the question—he, after all, still cares about you. high chance he won’t ask, especially if you said you don’t want to say anything, but in this situation the softer part of him who has a hard time saying no to you truly comes out. a movie night, even if it involves the goddamned fries, would happen. he is smart enough to know when to spoil you, especially since he knows your habits and tendencies by heart.

kunigami

the sort of person who sees a hint of gloom on your face and immediately cradles it with a tenderness that no one would expect from someone with his build. he is a good, caring person by nature, if you are looking for someone to help you, he is the best choice. he can be clumsy sometimes and the words he gives to cheer you up have a high chance of being uttered with a lot of pauses in the middle—but the way he acts will probably be enough to bring a smile to your face again (and he will also smile along with you when this happen because by god you are his happiness). all those aside, high chance he can’t give advice, but he will give you top-notch cheering up—words, actions, cuddles, everything—along with genuine validation. (especially after wild card, he has seen hell. “feeling terrible” is something he understands a lot.)

kaiser

for this one i won’t sugarcoat it: jesus christ. why. is there no one else?

jokes aside, as i love to bully him a bit here, objectively—this really depends on the sort of type of person you are. if you are looking for advice or validation or a listener—not him. but if you are the sort of person who prefers a distraction or the “tough love” sort of motivation that is more scathing and heartless—borderline degrading—he is the one. out of spite, his words are probably enough to spur you into action, forgetting whatever blue feeling you have as it has turned into a red raging anger. however, a little note, believe it or not, this actually comes from a caring place in his heart. kaiser is someone with many, many harsh edges—and this comes more from “i rather see you angry and living than seeing you down without me being able to do anything” root that he rather die than say out loud.

nagi

the best you could get is a passive listener. worse you can get is a passive listener who still plays games. the worst you can get is that one scene where isagi has a legitimate concern and gets his hair pulled by this guy. another one who is better to have as a company in seeking distraction for the time than anything. but, despite how admittedly terrible he is in cheering you up with words, he truly makes it up by action when it finally hits him how down and different you are. it will take a few hours or a few days, but he will get there. afterward, expect many small sweet gestures ranging from cute gifts, your favorite snacks, et cetera. your chatroom with him will too suddenly get noisy with many cute stickers and “u ok? :x” for at least a few weeks. (also he is shameless enough to ask out loud to his teammates about what should he do with you when he realizes how stuck he is. so hey. there is that: possible extra brains if you need a solution.)

reo

common knowledge that he never shies away from using that money of his when he needs to and this is one of those situations where he genuinely considers taking you away for a trip so you can feel better near a sunny beach or a peaceful lake—you pick. if you don’t want that, however, this guy is still the best when it comes to understanding you and will be there until you give him a smile. what else do you expect from someone with a complete set of love languages? do watch out though, he is also someone who could get angry pretty quickly, especially when it involves something or someone he cares about—and this time it’s you. on a brighter note, though, this means if you are looking for someone to shit talk with, he is the one. he is a smart caring boyfriend, so talking with him during this time will do a lot of good to you. a good advice along with good validation.

bonus round:

barou — has this very awkward and unique way of cheering you up by getting you to clean the house along with him (and somehow he is less strict with you this time) and then cooking for you after; somehow always works like a charm. yukimiya — do you know all those shoujo manga perfect handsome famous sporty smart boyfriends? this is it. coming to you live. chigiri — shit-talking session that will soon move on to a pep talk that will give you every bit of confidence and drive you to need. a best friend and a boyfriend in one package. one of the people who truly knows and understands how despairing an overwhelming situation could be. karasu — will he tease you a bit like a meanie to distract you, ironically? yes. but if you need an advisor to brainstorm the best possible solution he is also the one.

[cherryrainn]

hi mootie, may I request eddie munson angst to fluff :3 gn reader

HURT .

; pairing ; eddie munson x reader

; note ; i love him so much oh my god THANK YOU MOOTIE MWAH oh yeah and eddie isn't dead in this he made it through the whole vecna thing WOO

; warnings ; depiction of emotional distress, despair, self-harm, and self-destructive thoughts

you sat in your room, surrounded by the darkness that seemed to swallow you whole. tears stained your cheeks as you stared blankly at the walls, feeling so lost and alone.

the echoes of eddie's laughter from your last d&d session rang in your ears, a bitter reminder of happier times.

but reality was a cruel mistress, and it had dealt you a hand you couldn't bear to play, the whole thing with the upside down and the vecna was killing you, even though it was over.

eddie munson was the only one who understood. he saw past the facade you wore for the world, and he loved you.

you longed to tell him, to pour out your heart and soul until there was nothing left but the raw, jagged edges of your pain. but the words would always get caught in your throat, suffocated by fear and shame.

"you okay?" eddie's voice shattered the silence, pulling you back from the edge of despair. you completely forgot he was in your room.

you forced a weak smile, hoping to convince both him and yourself that everything was fine. "yeah. just a rough day. nothing i can't handle."

but eddie wasn't buying it. his piercing gaze bore into you,. "don't gimme that. i know you better than you know yourself. come on, talk to me."

you sighed. "really, eddie, i said i'm fine. just drop it"

his brow furrowed as he took a step closer. "no, i can't. i wanna help."

you felt the heat rise in your chest. why couldn't he just leave it alone? "i don't need your help. i can handle my own problems. it's okay."

his concern turned to determination. "stop doing that, y/n. i care about you. a lot. i'm not just gonna stand here and do nothing."

"well, maybe i don't need you to stand by!" the words were sharper than you intended, but the frustration bubbled over.

he took a step back, hurt flashing in his eyes. "what's gotten into you? i'm just trying to be here for you."

and that's when the guilt hit you. his face, filled with genuine concern, made you feel like you'd slapped him. but you were too stubborn to back down.

"you're killing me, eddie! i can handle myself," you shouted, your frustration boiling over into anger.

eddie's shock was evident, and a heavy silence hung in the air. that voice slithered into your mind, the cold grip of fear tightening. he's scared because of you. you shouldn't exist. all you do is hurt people.

his hurt expression fueled the turmoil within you. the anger dissipated, replaced by a bitter taste of regret. you didn't like hurting him.

"i didn't mean it like that," you muttered, your voice softer now. but the damage was done.

eddie shook his head, his eyes clouded with hurt. "maybe i should just give you some space."

the room felt colder as he sat there. he's scared because of you. you shouldn't exist.

the realization hit you like a ton of bricks – you were your own worst enemy, hurting the one person who cared the most.

you stared at the blanket, the fabric a blurry mess as tears welled up in your eyes. your chest felt tight, and a voice in your head whispered, you're messed up.

without even thinking, your trembling hands found their way to your arms. you started pinching yourself. the sting of pain seemed to momentarily drown out the chaos in your mind. you pulled at the skin, desperate for some tangible sensation to distract you from the overwhelming emotions.

you didn't even realize what you were doing until someone gently took hold of your hands. startled, you looked up through tear-filled eyes to see eddie kneeling in front of you.

"y/n," he said softly, his eyes filled with concern. "i wanna help you. please, let me help you." he was begging you.

you looked down at your hands, and his warm touch sent a shiver down your spine. your hands were shaking, and you could feel the warmth of eddie's hands against yours, his rings cool to the touch.

but then, you noticed something. eddie's hands were shaking too.

a realization washed over you – the person sitting in front of you wasn't some invincible hero. eddie was human, just like you, with his own fears and struggles. the weight of your own troubles felt a little less burdensome, knowing you weren't alone.

eddie's concern softened into a gentle offer. "is there anything you want? like... water, a blanket, anything?"

you nodded slowly, grateful for his kindness. "water would be nice, thanks, eddie."

as eddie stood to leave, you hesitated. "wait! stay," you blurted out.

he turned back, surprise flickering in his eyes. "okay," he said, taking a seat beside you on the bed.

the room felt a little warmer with eddie's presence. he looked at you, waiting for you to speak.

"thanks," you said, your voice soft. "i'm sorry for pushing you away. i didn't mean to hurt you."

eddie shook his head,. "don't be sorry. nothing to be sorry for. you didn't hurt me."

a small smile tugged at your lips. "thanks for staying, eddie. i appreciate it."

he grinned, a genuine warmth in his eyes. "anytime, y/n."

[jaywonjuice]

camping trip with enhypen🏕️

pairing: bf!enha x gn reader

warnings: sfw intimacy, physical contact, kissing, mentions of food

wc: 927 words

a/n: i am honestly dying for enha to go on a proper wholesome camping trip all together, i haven’t been able to get the idea out of my head ever since soso fun </3; i only write romantically for enha adult line !

-☘︎ heeseung

spending the afternoon cloud watching, sitting in the long grass with his head resting in your lap. he keeps claiming to see the most absurd shapes forming in the sky, making you laugh so hard your ribs ache.

you’re so intent on toasting the perfect marshmallow that you don’t even notice the way he’s staring at you. ‘okay, okay, this one’s perfect!’ you beam, finally turning to face him. as you do so your breath hitches - he looks just a little too fine right now, dark hair messy under his beanie, firelight dancing and flickering across his features. he nodded without even looking, eyes never leaving your face. ‘perfect,’ he agrees.

he makes ramen as a midnight snack just for the two of you, and you stay up snuggled under a blanket talking and laughing in hushed whispers, doing your best not to disturb the others.

-☘︎ jay

you’re the only one jay ever lets get their hands on his camera, and you take full advantage, snapping endless shots of him as he’s cooking dinner, strumming his guitar, pouting in a sulk after losing at uno (you tease him mercilessly about this last one)

he gives you his hoodie to wear as it grows dark around the campfire, knowing how easily you tend to feel the cold. you lift your sweater paws to your face and breathe in the beloved, reassuring scent ~ you love the way jay always smells like sandalwood and bergamot.

you drift off to sleep in your shared sleeping bag, feeling warm and safe with his arms wrapped around you, hugging you to his chest as the playlist he made just for you hums quietly through your shared earphones.

-☘︎ jake

posing together at the back of the group photo, he slinks an arm around your waist to pull you in closer to his side, and just as jay gets done counting down to take the picture, jake leans down and plants a swift kiss on your cheek.

slipping off back to the tent for an impromptu makeout session when everyone else is too focused on roasting marshmallows to notice your absence.

lying in your sleeping bags at night, he’s holding your hands in his, absent-mindedly playing with your fingers as he listens to you talk about the book you just got finished reading. neither of you want to be the first to fall asleep, but your words gradually grow slower and softer, and his eyelids begin to feel heavy. before you know it you’re both out like twin lights, hands still loosely linked together.

-☘︎ sunghoon

noticing you fidgeting from the cold in spite of the heat from the campfire he takes your hand, guiding it to his jacket pocket and holding it there to warm you up. you hope the glow of the firelight is enough to mask the sudden flare of colour in your cheeks.

he wakes you at god-knows-what-hour in the morning and drags you out of the tent to sit and watch the sunrise with him. he knew you wouldn’t exactly be feeling overjoyed about being woken up so early, so he makes you a mug of hot chocolate to make up for it (he even added marshmallows <3). it was worth it though, you think, the view really was breathtaking. and he’d just have to take your word for it seeing as he hardly took his eyes off you the whole time.

swimming in the lake with hoon, you splash him playfully, unable to suppress your giggles at his over-the-top outraged reaction, whining that he ‘wasn’t going to get his hair wet !!!’ soon it’s a full on water fight that only ends when, instead of launching another attack, he scoops you up out of the water and all of a sudden leans in, bringing his soft lips down onto yours. now it’s his turn to laugh at the taken aback expression on your face.

-☘︎ sunoo

he smiles shyly as he presents you with the little bunch of wildflowers he’s been secretly picking for you all day. you gasp in delight - they’re so beautiful. he tucks a single cornflower behind your ear before adding ‘now i can hardly tell which of you is the flower’, making your cheeks flush.

he plucks up a dandelion and holds it out for you to close your eyes and make a wish. before you even get the chance to reopen your eyes his lips are on yours, making you blush like mad for what feels like the hundredth time that day.

the two of you take turns seeing who can tell the scariest ghost stories as you lie awake in the tent late into the night. he inevitably wins, scaring you so badly that he has to hug you close for you to fall sleep (letting you be the little spoon just this once given the exceptional circumstances…)

-☘︎ jungwon

he asks you to hang back and wait with him as you’re walking through the woods back to camp, letting the others carry on up ahead, just so that he can hold your hand because he’s too shy to hold hands in front of everyone </3

after searching for him for the best part of an hour you finally stumble across him, sat cross-legged in the next field over, determinedly linking up daisies to make you a daisy chain necklace.

the two of you sneak off in the night to watch for shooting stars. every time he spots one he lifts up his hand that’s holding yours, pointing excitedly up at the night sky with your intertwined fingers.

©jaywonjuice | do not copy or re-upload my work on any platform

[toruro]

hyung line + fighting with them

w/c: 1.7k

a/n: maybe i'll do a maknae line later, we'll see! part two of them making up can be found here! hope u enjoy!

seungcheol

he really tries his best to not get *super* heated because he knows he loses his temper easily. trying to stop small arguments is kind of futile but you both are some what playful when it comes to those petty fights which are unavoidable. it’s the rarer, more serious fights like the one you’re having tonight which he tries to prevent. yelling in each other’s faces is never what you want but it’s inevitable sometimes. you know he doesn’t mean what he’s saying, you’re sure of it, but you can’t help but let the harsh words get to your head. once it’s all catching up to you, you’re finding it hard to bite back, hard to find the voice in you to yell more, hard to find it in you to say anything at all. after seungcheol’s finished with the tangent he’s on, he notices how you’ve stilled. giving you a moment to respond, the silence gives you both a moment to let your emotions to sink in properly. after a few minutes of silence, both of calming down your breathing and tears, seungcheol will talk again. “baby i’m sorry.” you’re quiet for a moment before you take a deep breath. “let’s talk about this in the morning,” you finally say, “i think we’ve both said enough tonight.” he nods in agreement as you turn on your heel to grab a blanket and pillow from your shared room, but he catches on quickly. “don’t sleep on the couch. i’ll sleep on the couch,” he tells you, pulling the pillow from your hands. you pull them back, “no, you hate sleeping there.” his heart nearly melts. “okay, then just sleep on the bed with me,” he reasons, “please?” even if you’re angry, you know you can’t say no.

jeonghan

i believe him and minghao would be the calmest in an argument, no matter how heated it gets. he's a bit goofy and playful at times, but when he notices that this argument is one of Those Arguments he'd switch it up, being very careful with his words and their impact. would have you both sit down at the dinner table or something like that where you guys could face each other and whenever you're talking and he notices you start talking faster, more angrily, more heated, he'll reach out a hand and encourage you to slow down. you're still a bit angry but how can you feel anything but endearment when he's doing everything in his power to understand you? i really can't imagine an argument with jeonghan where you're both yelling and he says anything he regrets, just because he'd be so perceptive and strict with himself about the course of your argument. sometimes though, he understand that some issues take more time to be resolved BUT if you even suggest the idea of you sleeping in a different room, he'll be very against it, insisting that wherever you're sleeping, he's sleeping.

joshua

big arguments with joshua are rare. he tries to diffuse any situation before they get out of hand—out of hand much like this one. after he loses his cool, things will be come very heated very fast. joshua knows you well—too well—and he’ll definitely strike where it hurts, throwing out words he wouldn’t imagine saying if he was in his right mind. you’re not used to joshua like this, and you’re not sure how to handle it, doing your best to not relent. it's when he's spitting out something that you'd never think he'd ever say that you'd go quiet, letting his words sink in to both of your minds. you're wiping away at your cheeks, furiously trying to get your tears to stop because you're mind is just so clouded and scrambled that you can hardly think. "baby, i—" joshua's voice is softer the next time he speaks after realized just exactly what he's said, but you cut him off. "i'm—" you start with a shaky breath, "—i'm gonna sleep on the couch tonight." joshua physically winces at your proposition but he also knows that he brought this upon himself, so he doesn't protest, rather collecting himself and using his time alone tonight to think about how to approach this situation the next morning.

jun

does not shut up in arguments. like he will be so vocal about his emotions and will say everything that he’s feeling and everything that he’s thinking to the point that it's quite literally obnoxious. you'll be trying to get your point across but he's cutting you off with his own words, and it's not even intentional, he just starts spewing out shit when he's angry. it takes you a long few minutes of you being completely silent, trying to take in everything he's saying to you before jun realizes that maybe, just maybe, he's gone overboard and should shut up right about now. it's not the easiest for him to not say everything he's thinking and it's not easy for you comprehend everything he's saying so you're both sort of just standing there before you turn and go to the kitchen to grab yourself a glass of water. jun follows after you quickly but would do his best to try not to say anything. when you propose that you'll sleep on the couch tonight, he isn't sure what to think, and is about to go on another rampage before stopping himself. he's not fond of the idea, but definitely thinks you both need some time to cool down. he'll try to convince you to take the bed but your refuse, insisting that he's too tall to fit on the couch.

soonyoung

he's like jun in the sense that he'll say almost everything that comes to mind except he's much more calculated about it. it's less of him just saying random shit that's going through his head and more of him not having a filter. he won't hold back the mean words that he definitely wouldn't say if even half of his brain was functioning. he'd throw his hands in the air a lot, using his arms to emphasize the words that he's saying and you know he doesn't intent to be scary but with the way he's yelling and you're yelling and everything is so emotional, you're quite frankly intimidated. you know he'd never ever hurt you but in the heat of the moment, you find yourself almost cowering back in the midst of your argument. it takes hoshi a few minutes to even comprehend your figure, let alone realize that you're intimidated—intimidated by him—before it feels like a slap in the fucking face by the universe. he's suddenly thrown into reality, growing quiet as he realizes just how the past hour has escalated into something neither of you wanted. it's hard for him to calm down—he's just always so emotional, and you love that about him, but it's a lot. eventually, it'll just be quiet as you look at each other, and after a few moments he'll reach out a hand and you'd immediately hold his. he'd say something about talking about this in the morning and you'd just nod along as you both make your way to the bedroom.

wonwoo

thinks A LOT so all of his responses are thought through. well, almost all. i can imagine wonwoo trying to becalm and collected in any argument with you just because he hates conflict and will do his best to make sure this doesn't get out of hand. despite this, you are his weakness in like every way possible, not excluding this one. something about the way both of your voices are being raised steadily and the words you're both saying are starting to become less thought through and god does wonwoo try to keep his composure, he really does, but when things get heated he'd start yelling and then you'd start yelling and you'd both be crying until some point where he realizes enough is enough and that you guys can't hold up a proper conversation like this. he knows this argument will get you nowhere if you continue on like this, so he takes it upon himself to step down and propose that you talk about this in the morning. when you silently agree and go to your shared bedroom to grab a pillow and blanket, he catches on all too quickly, grabbing your wrist before you can set up on the couch. "don't," he pleads, and while you're still upset and heated, you can't ignore the raw emotion in his voice, sighing as you return to your bed, crawling with wonwoo by your side.

jihoon

petty arguments are normal. real ones like these are not. woozi prides himself for being generally composed in your relationship, hardly every losing his cool in situations like these. usually he's good at taming both your and his emotions, so it's not natural for things to end up like this. but in this case, both of you are pent up with so much frustration from god knows what and you just happen to be taking it out on each other. it's not okay, you both know that, but you're too stubborn to quit this battle of yelling you've got going on, and it's only when you find it harder for you to raise your voice that you begin to falter. you don't even realize that you've been yelling so much that your throat begins to hurt until you're taking a deep breath, being hit by a need for water. you leave the room in the middle of his response to you, going to the kitchen to grab yourself some water, which causes him to follow you afterwards, not halting his words. you've already been crying and you can tell his eyes are glossy too, and this is your moment of epiphany—this needs to stop. you don't let him say another word before putting your hand up tiredly, saying something along the lines of, "i can't do this right now and i don't think you can either." he'll shut his mouth real tight when he hears how hoarse your voice has gotten. "let's just talk in the morning," you suggest, trudging your way to your bed as he follows you, nodding in agreement as he crawls in next to you without a word.

[dawnisdreamlanding]

Chapter 4

Ghost x Reader x Konig

Neighbor!au and Roommate!au

About me | Masterlist |

Author's note: Hey!! my 3 month hiatus is finally over!! I finally have time to write hahahasdf I hope you guys like this chapter :) Lmk if you wanna get added into the taglist.

Truth be told, Konig could have come back home to you ages ago. But ever since his mission ended a month ago, he’s chosen the stiffness of his military bed over the softer, more appropriately sized bed that’s waiting for him at home. Why, you may ask? Well, it might have something to do with the way the blood of his enemies still cling onto him no matter the amount of times he’s tried to scrub it off and the thought of your horrified face when you find out that it was him who spilled their blood.

It’s a foolish thought to think that a man like Konig could live a normal, civilian life. He’s a battering ram made for the battlefield, and he’ll be that way for the rest of his life. He looks over at his desk which is nearly free of any reports. He’s been trying to find every excuse he can to not go back to your apartment, but it’s the promise he made with you to watch that stupid, stupid show of yours that finally gets him packing to go home.

—

You’ve never been so glad to hear that familiar long tired sigh that only your roommate makes. You practically rush out of the kitchen, dishes forgotten and greet him. “Konig!” you say with a smile. You excitedly stand in front of him, but you know better and keep your hands to himself. He’s never really been a big fan of touch since day one, and you swore to yourself to respect his boundaries, no matter how excited you may be to see him after so long.

So you’re very much surprised when Konig was the one to actually hug you first. His strong arms wrap around you, holding you close and tight, making sure you couldn’t run away — so much so that you couldn’t even lift your arms to hug him back. You don’t ask questions, you don’t pry into his private life, waiting patiently until Konig is the one who tells you about his life. It’s one of the qualities he likes about you so much. You don’t pry into his life yet somehow have the capability to care for him somewhat endlessly.

He takes a long, deep breath and it feels like half of his burdens have been lifted from his body when he exhales, the same way you drop a heavy bag after coming home from a long trip. He doesn’t let go of you for quite some time.

While Konig wishes he could be in the moment and enjoy this small comfort he has  in his bloodshed-filled life, he is stuck in his own head. How would you react if he told you the nature of his job? Would you push yourself away from him right now? Would you be so disgusted, you’d tell him to never come near you ever again? Konig would understand why.

His fingers press against the cotton material of your cloud sweater you’re wearing as an effort to ground himself. The feeling of your soft sweaters, the way his arms wrap around your body so easily, would he lose all of this? Would “Ko” cease to exist? 

It is then that he decides not to tell you — not quite yet, anyway. Call him selfish all you want, but he wants to keep you around and hug you a little more. Spend a couple more nights laughing about dumb characters in pointless shows and watching you eat his cooking after you come back from work. Just a little more of those moments before you slip away from his grasp.

—

The smell of butter melting on bread that wafts into your room wakes you up. You opened a bottle of red wine last night -- a Pinot Noir -- to celebrate him coming home after a long 3 months. He politely declined it when you had offered a glass to him, saying that he didn’t drink. Which struck you as odd, because you swore you remember seeing a can of beer lying in the trash the last time he was home.

You don’t remember much of anything that happened after you downed the 4th glass of red wine but hey, at least your head wasn’t pounding. You pull the blanket off you and you realize that you’re still wearing yesterday’s clothes. The bed creaks as you get up and can be heard all the way from the kitchen. “Maus?” Konig calls out.

You show yourself in the kitchen not long after, and he serves you bread rolls with butter and strawberry jam. “I eat this when I was young.” He opens up as he places the plate in front of you. You realize that Konig has opened up more to you in the last 24 hours than he has since you first met him, but you aren’t complaining.

“It’s good.” You say. It’s simple bread and butter, quite literally. Not much Konig could’ve gotten wrong anyway. He seemed nervous as he watched you take that first bite but after your comment, he lights up. “I’m glad.” He says. It takes him a moment to snap out of it, but he sits down opposite of you and he begins eating his own share of the bread rolls.

You can’t help but stare at him in slight wonder, watching him slip the bread rolls under his hood to eat them. “Does it ever get hard to breathe?” Konig freezes momentarily at the question and he thinks that maybe you’ve caught on to the monster he truly is. But after a short moment of silence, you motion to his hood and it all makes sense.

He looks at you; truly looks at you. A little bit of strawberry jam smeared on the left corner of your mouth, a sweeter shade of red than the usual blood he sees on the field. “Sometimes.” He answers with a subtle hint of a secret meaning that he doesn't dare utter. You continue eating but he can't help but stare at you. 

He leans forward and his thumb swipes the jam off your face, leaving you a little stunned and a little embarrassed. The jam on his thumb is the same color as the blood on the battlefield but with you in the frame, it isn't blood; it’s a peaceful breakfast eating bread rolls and jam with you on a Sunday morning.

Taglist: @gojo-mochi @itsthealice @multifamdom-lover3 @sleepyoriana

[so-long-soldier-writes]

Never Let Me Go (pt.1)

kai parker x reader | heretic!kai | part 1/3

summary: you're getting used to the coldness in your apartment. the chill that lingers in the air, the absence of his presence. for four months you wait for him, willing for the past and cursing those who've altered your future; wishing for the way things used to be, and hoping they wouldn't be lost beyond repair. but the next time you see him, out on your doorstep, you realize you can't just pick up the pieces, you have to restart the whole puzzle.

tags: post s06e22, heartache, emotional hurt / mild comfort, angst, arguing

word count: 2k

a/n: it's been one of the worst weeks of my life, so here's a little angst. i hope to have more out soon, and aside from the other two parts of this (well, one, bc the third part is smutty), some softer things!

You sigh deeply as you climb into bed, alone, for the billionth time. Your bed used to be warm, full, and safe, and now it’s just cold. For a while, you couldn’t even stand the feeling and had to sleep on the couch, but then one month turned into four, and you had to go back to the bed at some point. 

For four months, your boyfriend was trapped in a prison world by one of your best friends. When he finally got out, he brought chaos along with him in the form of one curse and a hundred deaths. One of those, being his own. Luckily, he had drunk the blood of a vampire, which brought him back, but not quite as the same boy he used to be. 

The first night after his transformation, he returned to bed with you. By morning, he was gone. When asked what happened, he couldn’t really say. His emotions, already confusing, were even more out of place, and he couldn’t predict even his own usually sporadic actions. A taste for blood and a ringing in his ear kept him up all night, and the sight of you made him afraid. If he’d hurt you, he would never forgive himself. 

So, for the last three weeks, your bed has been empty just as it had when he was gone. Frankly, you have no idea where Kai sleeps, or if he even does. The rest of the heretics have taken to an old abandoned house on the town’s border, but you doubt he’s there. Worry keeps you awake most nights, and the only reason you fall asleep is out of pure exhaustion. You love him, but lately you feel like he loves you less. 

Tonight’s like any other in your new routine. Watch an episode and drink down a glass of wine. Or bourbon. Or even vodka, on worse days. Curl yourself into a ball when you finally do go up to bed. Cuddle into the stuffed bat that Caroline gifted you after she found out what happened after the 1903 visit. She knew it hurt you, what Bonnie did. Even if it was “for the better”, she knew it broke your heart. 

You kiss the head of the little animal, then heave a heavy sigh. Sleep could overtake you in five minutes or five hours, depending on what your body demands. After three minutes, you start counting sheep, calling on the help of more animals to guide you to REM. 

Forty-six sheep have jumped the fence when there’s suddenly a bold knock at your door. You scramble in anxiety, but then freeze in an attempt to hear better. 

Maybe you imagined it. Maybe you had finally fallen asleep. 

But then there’s another knock. 

It’s probably Damon, you think. He’s disturbed you several times in the middle of the night. He probably lost a hold of his mother and is wondering if you’ve seen her. Or it’s Caroline, seeking advice whilst forgetting the time on the clock. Or maybe it’s your upstairs neighbor, angry about you taking his usual parking spot, since he took yours the day before. 

Your head runs rampant with possibilities as you urge yourself to answer the door. Your blanket is still wrapped around your body, though you leave your bat in bed.

When you open the door, you’re stunned to see none other than Kai Parker standing there, smiling, despite pain clouding in his eyes. 

“Kai?” You ask, voice quieter than you intended.

“Hi.”

“What are you doing here? It’s late.”

It’s weird to see him. Honestly, you had to run back your memory and try to think if your last conversation ended in a break-up. It hadn’t. 

“Can I come in?”

He’s been invited in; he was on the first night. Still, he asks now.

“Okay.”

You shut the door as he enters. Then, pulling the blanket closer to you, you nod to the couch. He follows, but you sit on separate ends.

“You look warm,” he says. 

You bite back a reply to say you feel the opposite. In fact, your whole apartment feels cold without him. “What brings you here?” You repeat instead. 

“I miss you.” He shrugs off his boots, but leaves the jacket on. “And I’m sorry.”

You furrow your eyebrows and he immediately sighs.

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. The only time we’ve talked in weeks is at the grill, and even then, I’ve been distant.”

“Mhm. So why now? What changed?”

“I promised you I’d be the best boyfriend I could be when we started dating, and I know for a fact that I haven’t been. And things have been difficult lately, y’know, since 1903, and the wedding, and the… everything. There’s been a lot of change. A lot of adjustments.” He’s stalling and you both know it. 

“Make your point, Parker,” you say coldly.

“I was sitting at the grill, just now, watching this couple. They were both drunk off their asses and being all handsy, and the bartender kicked them out for it, and everyone in that bar knows what they’re doing right now. But on their way out, they had to pass me, and heard them both tell the other they loved them, and it made me think of you. The first time you told me you loved me. The first time I said it back, and the first time I recognized I felt it, even if I didn’t understand it. Made me think of you, and our relationship, and what I’ve seemingly abandoned, but I promise, I never wanted this to become of us.” Tears well in his eyes as he rambles. You’ve never seen him cry. “Everything I said, that night after I left, was true. I’m so scared to hurt you that I don’t even want to put you in a position where I could. And on top of that… don’t you hate me?! I ruined your life, Y/N. I ruined your best friends’ lives, I killed my whole family. Why don’t you fucking hate me?!”

“Do you want me to hate you?”

“No! I love you, and you’re the only person who has ever loved me, but I’m a fucking horrible person.”

“Everyone in this town is fucking horrible, have you seen it? People, in general, are flawed and vicious, and yet most people have at least a few to whom they stick, and love, and are loved back.”

“You’re not like that.”

“But I still have flaws.”

“Your only flaw is loving me.”

“Kai-”

“Don’t-”

“Don’t fucking interrupt me,” you snap, getting upset. “If I want to fucking love you, I will. I don’t see it as a flaw, no matter what you’ve done. I’m so pissed off at you right now, how you come here and act like loving you is a chore, when you’ve been the absent one. I haven’t slept well in five fucking months because I’ve been worried about you. I don’t care what fears you have about hurting me. If you feel that way, then let us work through it. I’d rather have at least been given the chance to help you than for you to just block me out. I do love you, and while I have to convince myself every day that you still love me, it doesn’t make me love you less. I fucking wish I could. If I could, I’d turn off my fucking humanity and not give a shit, but I can’t do that, so I sit in this apartment and rot.”

He opens his mouth, but then stops and bites his tongue. Smart. 

“I can’t take this anymore, emotionally.” You finally say. “I need you here or I need you out.”

To avoid his gaze any longer, you stand up and head to the kitchen. He watches you turn on the Keurig and retrieve a cup, but doesn’t say anything. You turn your back for two seconds to grab the creamer from the fridge, and when you turn around again, he’s there, pulling sugar from your cupboard. You jump, not used to seeing him move so fast, and for a moment, forgetting heretics could. He swallows hard, seemingly taking it as a sign you’re afraid of him. 

“Give me that,” he gestures to the carton in your hand. His tone is gentle, there’s nothing demanding about it. 

For some reason, you do. You stand there, watching, as he crafts your cup of coffee in the way he always would. He has a way in the kitchen that you’d never understand. 

He snaps his fingers, and immediately you bring him the cinnamon from your spice rack. It’s muscle memory, part of your routine. 

He then puts the cup under the stream of hot coffee as the Keurig works its own magic. Eye contact is avoided at all costs. He stares down at your marble cabinet. Your eyes are trained on his arm. 

When the coffee is done pouring, he sets it in front of you to cool. For a minute, you won’t touch it. For a minute, he can explain. 

“I still love you. And in an attempt to not hurt you, I hurt you worse than I could’ve imagined. It’s not an excuse, but 1903 did something to me. I shut down, emotionally, I think. It felt hopeless, any chance of escaping, or of seeing you again. My only company were the heretics that had been there for a century and had no idea, whatsoever, of how to escape.” He’s running out of time. You watch the steam cool off the top of your cup.

“I told them about you, and how much I loved you… because I was feeding them. I woke them all up and let them drink from me. Those scars all healed when I turned, but my arms and neck were littered with bites. God, I’m glad you didn’t see it. But I was so bored, and lonely, and wanted to know if they had any idea of how to get out. Again, they didn’t. But then, one day that we were plotting an escape, I remembered how we got Bonnie out, and realized it would be applicable to that time, considering Quetsi-what died in the days of the Greeks.”

You almost chuckle at that.

“But when I got out, I was so hellbent on revenge, that I did what I did, and I know I did everything wrong, and I should’ve just come to you, but my brain isn't… wired that way.” He hesitates to say that detail. At the end of the day, he’s still a sociopath. If revenge is on his mind, it’s the only thing on his mind. 

“And so I’m sorry about all of it. I swore I would protect you, and that included protecting you emotionally, and I’ve failed at that. I don’t want out, I want to be here, if you’ll have me back.”

You take a sip of the coffee, now cool. The flavors are perfect and warm your cold soul up just the way you’ve needed it for months. 

“I’d rather have you with me than anywhere else,” you admit.

“Every day without you has been a living hell.”

“Where have you been sleeping?”

“Sometimes with the heretics. Sometimes in the old Lockwood cellar, or just the woods. A couple times…” he stops himself.

“A couple times?”

“Outside your apartment. In the bushes. Where I could hear your heartbeat, but could keep a safe distance.”

“Kai…”

“I really hope you watched a lot of sad movies, and that they were the reason for your tears.”

You bite your lip. You both know you didn’t. 

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“I’m sorry.” In half a second, he’s in front of you, rubbing his thumb along your chin. 

You still don’t look at him. “Please don’t leave me again.”

“I won’t. I swear-” he stops. He swore to you last time. “I promise I won’t. I won’t leave you, ever.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Tears flood your eyes once more as you wrap your arms around his body. You bury your face in his chest, and he pulls you close. Hands find their way to your hair, massaging your head comfortingly. With time, you find your way back to the couch, coffee in hand. But despite the strength of the coffee, you’re asleep in no time. You’re finally back in the warmth and safety of his arms. 

[mouwrites]

hiii can i req prompt "9 & 16" for the event with lloyd :3 congrats on 300!!! (i dont rlly have any scenarios in mind sorry :( )

Yes ofc!! Inspired by my love of winter scenery yet hatred of the cold,, hope this turned out okay!!

Word count: 1.4k

Ninjago - 9. “You’re beautiful.” and 16. “You have no idea how cute you are.” (Lloyd) (300 follower event)

It was more than cold outside. With the sun hidden behind thick, dark clouds that promised snow, the world was deprived of whatever warmth might have been permitted in the harsh winter. Frost crept up the windows of the Bounty, yet as you looked out the blurry glass, you felt compelled to venture out into the frozen wasteland.

Donning your thickest winter gear, you stepped outside and down the ladder. You realized that this was no wasteland at all; the evergreen forest in which you were grounded was gorgeous. Tufts of deep green needles accented the blanket of white snow draped across the landscape, and when you paused, you could hear a stream bubbling somewhere.

You ignored the way the air nipped at your face, smiling to yourself in complete bliss unburdened by the cold.

You heard the crunching of snow behind you, and you looked over your shoulder to see Lloyd, bundled up in his winter gear. He approached you with a smile, reaching out a gloved hand to hold yours. Without saying a word, you both began your trek through the snowy woods.

Lloyd let you take the lead, so you decided to follow the sound of the creek. It was difficult at first to discern the noise over two pairs of boots creaking through the snow, but as you went on the sound gradually overpowered the noise. You rounded a large rock coated in snow at the top and dipped in frost at the bottom, tinting the wet black stone a softer grayish hue, and there it was.

The black water cascaded over stones of a similar shade, white bubbling torrents streaking the water as it rushed along. You squatted down to examine the water, trying to see something through the darkness.

As your face drew closer to the stream, the blackness seemed to be more of a dark greenish blue, and you could indeed see pebbles in the shallow water by the bank. You pulled off a glove and reached inside, gasping at the freezing temperature. You felt around the bank quickly, looking for a nice flat stone.

“What are you doing?” Lloyd wondered aloud, still standing upright behind you.

In answer you held up an excellent skipping stone, and in a moment Lloyd knew what you were about to do.

You tossed the stone, frowning when it plopped straight into the water without skipping once. Lloyd let out a little ooh and gave your shoulder a sympathetic pat. “Second time’s the charm?”

You shook your head, yanking your glove back on. “Second time’s the one I get frostbite. That water is cold!”

You came up to your feet and held out your hand, waiting for Lloyd to grab it before you set off again.

You decided to follow the stream, appreciating the quiet rushing noise. Looking at the water made your fingers, which were still a little wet inside your glove, feel cold, so you looked virtually everywhere else.

While your gaze was directed up at the trees, Lloyd was looking at the stream. As his eyes traced the banks and the water flowing in sculpted curves around rocks and depressions in the riverbed, he suddenly spotted a little patch of green.

It was right where the bank met the snow that covered the forest floor: just a little patch of frosty green grass, with a single purple flower poking out the side closest to the water. As you approached, Lloyd suddenly stooped down to pluck it.

You looked at him, having felt the motion through your locked hands. You sent him an inquisitive look, perking up your eyebrow. He was smiling hugely when he straightened himself again, and between his forefinger and thumb was a little flower, coated gracefully in frost.

Your eyes went wide, marveling at the sight. The frost made it look like it was coated in crystals. Lloyd let you look at it for a moment before reaching up to your face and tucking it behind your ear.

His gloved hand cupped your cheek. He looked between you and the flower, his eyes finally anchoring on yours, looking straight into your soul with nothing but pure admiration.

“You’re beautiful.”

It was the first thing he’d said in a while, and the sound of his voice seemed just as natural as the din of the water gushing behind him. Still, it caught you by surprise, and your cheeks were suddenly warm.

You smiled, switching your grip on his hand to a more intimate grasp in the crook of his elbow. You clung to his side, leaning your head against his shoulder as you proceeded on your walk. This proved to be an excellent idea; not only was the proximity making your hearts fuzzy, but it was also keeping your bodies warm, which was becoming increasingly important the longer you were outside.

Just as you had suspected, the clouds began to shed snow. You looked up to watch the fluffy flakes float down, mesmerized by their delicate dances from the heavens to the ground.

You paused your walk to stare, and out of the corner of your eye you saw Lloyd’s head turning upwards, too. You laughed when you noticed that his tongue was sticking out. He was trying to catch a snowflake on it, bobbing his head this way and that in hopes of getting one.

“You have no idea how cute you are.”

He side-eyed you, the corner of his mouth turning upwards in a smile, but he kept at his task. You decided to join him, dashing left and right to catch the sparse flakes.

You had come apart to hunt snowflakes independently, but you suddenly crashed back together when you both dove for the same one. You tumbled onto the snow, tangling your limbs as you fell.

Laughter erupted from both of your mouths. You giggled until your bellies were sore and your lungs were aching, but you didn’t really feel compelled to get up until the snow started to soak through your pants. You seemed to notice it at the same time; your faces suddenly sobered and you looked straight at each other.

In a wordless exchange you had decided that it was time to head back. Lloyd got up first, brushing himself off brusquely before extending a hand to help you up.

You started to walk back, but Lloyd was lingering behind. You got a few yards away before you had to turn around to check on him, and you found him digging through the snow, bending at the waist to do so.

You were about to ask what he was doing when he suddenly sprang back up and jogged over to you. Pinched in his fingers was the flower he had given you, snowflakes spotting the still-frosty purple petals. He grinned hugely as he tucked it behind your ear and pecked you on the cheek.

“Couldn’t forget that,” he explained, hooking your arms together and marching along. You smiled fondly, the feeling of the icy stem strangely comforting against your ear.

When you got back to the Bounty it was just about blizzarding, and you were both holding your arms above your heads to protect your faces; a futile effort that just resulted in your forearms being peppered in even more flakes than they would have gotten at your sides.

You let out a long breath when you were finally enveloped in the warmth of the Bounty, and you fairly ripped off your snow-soaked layers, abandoning them in a heap by the door while you sought out somewhere to bundle up with a blanket.

Lloyd had a similar idea, but he first went to the kitchen. You found a place on the couch, immediately throwing together a nest of blankets and burying yourself in it. You called out to Lloyd to let him know where you were, and in a moment he came scurrying in with two steaming mugs.

“Hot cocoa?” You perked up hopefully.

Lloyd bent down to kiss your forehead, nodding. You opened your nest for him to crawl inside, taking both the mugs while he adjusted himself.

He held out his hands to take his own mug, but you brought them both close to your chest.

“No,” you pouted, “these things are warm.”

But you had to relent to Lloyd’s puppy-dog eyes, which he cruelly whipped out right at that moment. With a sigh you surrendered his mug, wrapping your other hand around your own to absorb its warmth.

As outside, neither of you spoke. You basked in the reverence of peace, remembering the wonders you’d seen outside yet appreciating the atmosphere of your current surroundings. There was only bliss, and cocoa, and the feeling of increasingly warm skin against your own as you lay nestled together with your love.

Thanks so much for participating in our event!! And thanks for reading, take care sweet duckies <33

(divider by saradika)

[yearningaces]

Declan x reader Defender of Chickens

Disclaimer: Declan is my own OC, he is a Hallewell. He's a fucked up lil guy but we love him

TW: animal death mentioned, decapitation, murder(Not really graphic)

Declan is not a good man.

He isn't a 'man' either, he muses. If he is not a good man though, then he is a creature.

Less than that, he is a Hallewell. He is what good men hope to avoid, and what evil men are stalked by in the darkness before their impending end.

He isn't a good Hallewell either though, he supposes he isn't a 'good' anything. He just is.

However…

As the Hallewell remains knelt on the earth of your doorway, gazing into the night sky above, he supposes he doesn't have to be good. He can simply be yours, instead.

The stars are gone tonight, concealed by clouds in the dark expanse of a night sky far above. The world below lies concealed, offering him the only cover he would ever appreciate. Darkness. Pure and unwavering darkness.

The lights of your home have extinguished at this hour, which is for the best.

Declan remembered when he arrived at your doorstep earlier that evening, finding you to be concealing prior shed tears, he was gentle in his embracing of yourself. His burly form was soft, and tender as he guided you to your bed. Declan was gentle as he tucked you in, shifting the blankets with care, ensuring you were as comfortable as you could be as he sat beside you. 'Who causes you grief? What blood must be shed?' He'd asked, his voice always as it ever is when speaking to you, a low soothing rumble.

The Hallewell's hand twitched on the hilt of his dark sword that was resting in his hands as he remembered how warm your cheek had been in his palm.

'It was nothing of concern', you had told him in such a trembling tone. 'I'm simply being sensitive, worry nothing of this', you had said, and oh how that alone lit a fire in his chest, howling out from the bars of his rib-cage at the thought of anyone telling you that your discomfort, your emotions were to be brushed off. As if unimportant.

At the time though, he only smiled softly, biting back his desire to bare his fangs towards anything and everyone who had ever so much as looked upon your form, as if they were worthy of such a sight as his heart. While stroking your cheek with his thumb, Declan spoke far softer than his lungs demanded. 'I cannot help if you do not say, my heart.'

'It was only the fence for my chickens… I woke this morning to find it was torn, and one of the hens was missing. It was no doubt a predator of some sort, searching for an easy meal…' Declan remembered your expression as you spoke of your small flock. His eyes drifted to the coop and the hen house from where he resided before your doorstep. Those chickens gave you enough eggs for yourself and to sell. You cared for them, so now here he sat upon the earth before your home. Watching over your chickens. Your flock, and by extension his.

His mind drifted once more as your trembling voice remained in his mind, seared into his head as if branded by iron and fire. 'The Fisherman's son came to my stall at the market today, he looked happy as he asked of my chickens, Declan we've never spoken before… I didn't know what he meant but it made me wonder something terribly paranoid.'

Declan considered your uneasy words and tone. You were such a wonderful creature, truly. His lovely human, his own beating heart. He was proud he'd kept face when he was seated before you, not once did his voice rise above a low murmur given your state. 'Alright, my heart, I hear your words. I understand your flock is important to you, and it is important to me,' The Hallewell gazed out to the patched portion of the fence, then to the dark treeline beyond. His attention grasped while the memory of your conversation rings in his head.

'I will watch over your flock tonight,'

Declan stands, silent as the grave he is ready to dig as the rustling of the underbrush grows louder

'But, Declan, it's the middle of winter and there is no guarantee anything would even occur-'

The Fisherman's son -Rory- not that his name matters much to a Hallewell, creeps out from the underbrush.

'It will be alright, my dove. I'll merely remain to watch over your flock.'

Declan stalks towards the boy, no more than his twenties, hands already tearing at the patched fencing, unaware of what is coming in the darkness.

'I will merely be rid of any predator that comes scratching at their coop.'

Rory freezes as his hands grasp the fencing. Feeling his mind screaming in the panic of a trapped animal under the blade.

'I would sooner throw myself into the bottom of the nearest well than let anything happen to your flock that you tend to so diligently.'

The blade swings down before a sound can rise from the now bleeding lungs of the Fisherman's son.

'Your flock is vital to you, is it not? Do your chickens not provide you with eggs, and feathers, and meat, and fertilizers? They are yours and by extension, they are mine to guard.'

Declan tears his sword out of the hot-blooded corpse.

'Allow me to be your guard dog, wont you?'

He strikes again, one swing of the dark metal, and the head is severed.

'Let me do this for you, just for tonight.'

Declan's expression is nothing short of sadistic glee as his smile widens, fangs sharp and eyes alight with the glow of malice and delight. The Fisherman's son, the red-haired hot-blooded fool of a jester at best. He'd often be on the receiving end of Declan's ire due to his subtle disregard for you, your work, your livestock that was often your main resource at the markets you enjoyed setting up a stall at. He'd done this for what? Petty pride? A way to lessen the competition of his own fathers stall? No matter, the answer never was of importance to the Hallewell. Better still, the issue was resolved.

With a quiet 'cluck' of the familiar-sounding hens that approached the commotion, Declan knelt by the fence and looked over at the chickens. "Ladies," He greeted in the way that so often seemed to amuse you. His eyes roamed the animals. Your flock. Something you had deemed important and now such notion was engraved into Declan's very bones as well. These creatures were to be shielded as readily as he did so for you. He knew the notion was one you'd laughed off, but he also knew how attached you were to these feathered things, after all, you cared for him, the wretched feathered thing he was, why not a chicken as well? While he would never understand, he knew you cared greatly for your animals, and as such he would ensure they would remain protected if only so you had no reason to mourn their early passing.

"Your predator is gone, now keep quiet tonight, our solace must be allowed uninterrupted rest." Declan looked down to the still-warm corpse, and reaching down to the severed throat of the Fisherman's son, he tore a strip of flesh, holding it to the fence as one of the hens was close enough to peck at the sliver of meat, grasping on and pulling it into the coop as the small flock gathered for the midnight snack. "Well done, ladies," Declan observed the hens before standing to properly dispose of the body, only so you'd never worry.

When the deed was done, and Declan's stomach sat full, did he finally re-enter your home. His dark sword was placed by the door, freshly cleaned and polished, his heavy boots left behind as he stalked through the dark home with familiarity.

Your room was silent and warm. Blessedly, you laid with peace it appeared to the Hallewell as he stood by your door.

Ever so slowly, Declan approached your bed, feeling as though he was approaching something far more vital than himself. His heart, laid upon blankets and cushions of your own throne as you slept. Declan felt his malice and hatred melting away from the inside of his rib-cage. Your very presence seemed to soothe some inner part of him that he had never previously known to be anything but loathing and ferocity, yet… Seeing your peace, your comfort despite knowing he was so close. You rested, despite knowing of the blood-stained and wretched thing that loomed and lurked within the walls of your own home, laid out within your own nest, content and safe.

Declan felt something in him wrench at the very idea alone, and seeing you, knowing these things… It only drew him closer.

The Hallewell orbited your presence as a devout worshiper would their solace. The brute of a creature, stained with the evil of the world, tainted with the deeds he had relished in, and never once regretted. Yet despite his very nature, you allowed him to be within your temple of gentle touch, and soft words, feeding his yearnings and his howling pleas for something kinder.

He almost didn't know what to do with himself as he edged closer, towards the side of your pristine resting place. Declan slowly, silently lowered himself to his knees before your bed. His hands resting upon the soft blankets, his forehead placed atop his hands. Declan felt his mouth moving without any noise of his silent words rising, in fear of disturbing your slumber. "My heart, my solace, my everything. You will not again have another tarnish the lands you have so diligently tended to. Never will another place their wretched form upon your home, in harm of your own nor yourself. The jester foolish enough to attempt so will never stain your lands, though his blood will feed them. I swear to you, and should another be shameless enough to try, their head will be placed atop a pike and left before the beds of flowers as a message to any other who might wish to do the same. Rest gently, dear dove, I will see to it, I will see to it all."

Declan will remain right where he is, he will not move as if a statue made of stone fit for nothing more than to be a visage of a human guised beast at worship before its personal devinity, and he will hardly breathe as he listens with bated breath for each beat of his own heart that lies within your own chest, whereas his lies only with visions of you.

Rest well.

[stargirlfics]

The Gentleman Chapter 4: Do I Wanna Know?

Alfred Pennyworth x Black Dancer!Reader

Summary: While you and Alfred are caught up in the clouds of your romantic night together, on the ground, not all is as well as it seems

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, mentions of violence and injury - canon typical, drug/alcohol mentions, protective!Alfred, slight angst, fluff and feelings, smut: unprotected sex, soft sleepy PiV, praise kink, creampie

Word Count: 5.2k

Note: Apologies for how long it’s been since I last wrote for this story, I hope this chapter is well worth the wait! Things are beginning to unfold and unravel and I am so excited about it!

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Sore limbs of yours uncurl against the solid warmth that is Alfred next to you in bed, bare arms keeping you pressed close to his chest, your nose nuzzling into his side where you’re tucked. 

It almost feels like a dream, some kind of fairytale you’ve found yourself in, head up in the clouds with no signs of coming down…and you had no protests about it.

During the night you had wriggled around to face him, waking up now with his scent surrounding you, the blankets, and his broad hands splayed across your body keeping you cozy and content. 

Calm silver light found its way through the gap in the curtains casting a soft haze through the room, making you curl up against his side even more, earning you a raspy chuckle. 

“Good morning, darling.” 

The sound has your eyes fluttering open, a thrill running through your chest at the deep lull of Alfred’s morning voice, his accent just a little more pronounced. Another thrill came right after at how utterly handsome he looked first thing in the morning. 

His usually perfectly styled hair was out of place, the natural waves of his locks making an appearance against his undercut, a smile already on your face at the sight, “Morning…” you yawned, eyes closing for a second before opening to find his gaze still on you. 

The memory of the night before crossed your mind then, flashes of the things he’d done to you replaying as you dared to peek back at him, inevitably succumbing and losing yourself in the sleepy blue of his eyes, the adoring, heated look they held, mirroring the same desire you’d seen in them last night only a little softer now. 

A jolt in your lower tummy and the sudden worry that he could read your face had you lowering your head, pressing your cheek against his shoulder, hiding there while you tried not to think about the way his hands had felt keeping you in place and spread out for him while he fucked you into the bed. 

Or the way you had to stretch your mouth to fit around him, the reminder of his size, the weight of him inside you making your thighs press together, trying to stave off the ache already blooming between them. 

But Alfred wasn’t one for missing details, catching how your body subtly shifts against his. 

Seems as if you both woke up in a mood this morning, feeling the gentle pressure of his hips pressing against yours, his arms cradling more of your body now, effectively pulling you closer into his center. 

Yeah, you thought, you could stay like this forever. 

Blankets pulled up around you, keeping you warm in the slightly chilly room, hovering somewhere between awake and drifting off to sleep again as you lay in Alfred’s arms, safe and taken care of. 

You’re trapped sweetly against his chest when you hear it, the words that ignite the fire that had been building since you woke. 

“Tell me what you need, sweetheart. I’ll give it to you, just tell me.” 

It almost sounds like a plea, a whimper of your own lodged in your throat when you look up at him again and see just how much he means those words. 

If it were anyone else you might have been too embarrassed at just how badly you wanted him but there was an automatic kind of safety you felt with Alfred that made it so easy to show how you burned for him, that made you want to do as he said, to be good for him, especially with the promise that he’ll grant you whatever you wished.

“Miss you inside me,” you whined, “Just want you to fill me up, please.” 

There was no hesitation in the way he moved in to kiss you, swallowing the rest of your “please” while his hands got to work tugging down your underwear.

Nimble fingers touched down on slick skin, coating them in your arousal before rubbing circles against your clit.

His resounding groan and your whimper mix together while you cling to him. 

“Christ, always so ready for me. That’s my girl.” 

The words made your chest feel tight, clenching around nothing because something about hearing him call you his and seeing and feeling the way you affect him makes you feel proud.

It’s funny, how easy it is to imagine it, being his, sharing your life with him, falling in love, realizing you want nothing more than to be weaved into the intricacies that make up his life. 

And that scares you. 

Your heart was familiar with this kind of gamble, too much of a romantic to ever resist the pull but also acquainted with the specific kind of anguish relationships could bring, hoping this one wouldn’t hurt you like the others had. 

Yeah, speaking honestly, it terrified you. 

But then Alfred was cutting through the noise in your head, pulling you back into the moment fully, his fingers still coaxing your arousal higher, making you whine when his mouth meets yours again, this time more urgent, needy. 

Still facing him you hooked a thigh over his hip, trying to pull yourself even closer, grinding against his fingers until you’d grown impatient enough to slip your panties off the rest of the way.  

Rocking your hips against him you reached for his waist, your fist finding what you wanted easily, almost shaky from want, trying to steady yourself as you palmed over the bulge in his boxers, content with the breathy sighs and groans you get as a result.

He follows your lead, pushing the fabric down to release himself, your warm, soft palm meeting the flushed, heated skin of his cock, obsessed with the way his jaw grits in response to your touch.

Your grip changes, positioning your hand so it dips down, taking him with you, guiding him toward where you want and need him most. 

“I need to get a condom, sweetheart…” he hums and halts your wrist, the sentiment almost sounding like a reprimand if you didn’t know him to be so thoughtful, looking out for you always.  

But you’d anticipated this, a response already on the tip of your tongue before he could say anything more. 

“Don’t want one this time,” you stifle a small yawn, your hand twisting around his shaft, pumping him a few times, giving him more reassurance that you were okay and safe without one if he was okay with it too, a sinful smile as you say the words that damn you, “Wanna feel you when you fuck me.”

“Yeah? Is that so? How filthy…it’s not even seven in the morning yet and your pretty cunt already needs me.” 

That has you tilting your hips up, nodding your agreement at his searing words, your mind already foggy as you felt him press against your folds, sliding with how wet you were. Alfred’s mention of the time had you slowing yourself down a little, pillowed by the dreamy safety of being in bed, of having time to savor this, there didn’t have to be any rush. 

One of his hands sweetly held your hip, the other finding the side of your face you were laying on, cradling your head in his broad palm, groaning with each pass of his hips against your folds, rocking slow and steady until the tip of his length catches against your entrance and you’re both breathing heavy at the pressure of him sinking into you, finally. 

Your eyes flutter as he drags against your walls, seating himself deep, till he’s all the way inside, stuffing you full before slowly pulling back, never going too far, just enough to have you gasping as he plunges deeper into you again, fucking you sweetly. 

“O-oh! You feel so good, it’s so good,” your soft moans and cries wreck him, you know they do, able to feel his grip on your hip grow firmer, a soft but heated passion sparking every ember smoldering inside you both. 

Your praise made him smile, ego softly boosted at the sincerity in your words, being able to tell that you meant it, you weren’t just saying words he might like to hear, you were telling him how good he was making you feel and that was everything. 

It made him want to fuck you like you were his. 

In his mind, you already were even if the conversation hadn’t been had yet, even if it scared him to think about for so many reasons, his fears nor yours would get in the way here, not when he was pressing you flush with his body, your nipples budding at the contact through the thin material of your sleep shirt. 

There was possessiveness in the way he held you against his chest, in the way he fucked you, grinding his hips deep, obsessed with the way your head tips forward to bury in his neck, how you relax into his hold and let him do as he pleases. 

Your fingers pinch at his skin, clinging on as he brings you over the edge swiftly, pulling a blissful orgasm from you twice, not stopping or slowing after the first leeches your energy, building the pleasure back up again. 

It’s the eye contact that makes you shudder, still so disarmed by the intensity they could hold, melting into the fact that you trusted him, that you knew he’d take good care of you, that you could fully immerse yourself in what you were feeling. 

Sweet little curses and whines fall from your parted lips, kiss swollen from his own, the prickle of his beard against your skin making you clench around him, the slap of his hips against you growing just a little harder as he chased his own release now too.

“Please, please,” your frantic plea and the fucked out look on your face nearly has him there. 

“I know, fuck, I know, darling,” the rough, ground out rasp of his accent goes straight to your core, your sensitive walls pulsing as you came again, going soft and pliant in his arms. 

An endless stream of praise fell on your ears as Alfred fucked you through it, letting you ride out the waves, holding out until he couldn’t any longer, his self control finally snapping when you whispered to him to finish how he had last night, wanting to feel him release inside you till he was spent, properly this time, till you were sure you were coated in every drop. 

He did just as you asked, staying vocal like you hoped he would, his arms still keeping you pressed to him as you caught your breaths together after, a self assured smile rising to your cheeks following more praise about how incredible you are, how incredible you made him feel. 

It’s a feeling you want to stay in forever as he finally withdraws from you, eyes fixated on where you start to drip with him already, the two of you curling back around each other under the blankets, finding another hour or so of sleep before starting the day could no longer be pushed back. 

Alfred wasn’t needed at the office until the afternoon and planned to make good use of all the time he could have with you, convincing you to get out of bed with the allure of taking a shower with him and being treated to a home cooked breakfast.

No way you were resisting that, heart skipping in your chest at just how good the last twelve hours had been to you so far. 

You’d pinch yourself if you weren’t so giddy. 

-

The Tower was a new kind of stunning in the daylight and you were delighted to pick up all the extra details you’d missed last night, noting all the natural light coming in, how it contrasted perfectly with the gothic style you don’t think you’ll ever tire of admiring. 

Once you’d finished getting ready Alfred led you down the same path to the kitchen, showing you where the laundry room and a few other things were down the stretch of hallway that opened into the updated but still rustic style kitchen. 

You took your seat at the island, perched on the same bar stool you’d sat at when you shared that late night sandwich with Alfred, now watching him cook for you again. 

Waffles were on the menu this morning per his request, only under the condition that you could make a request of your own: that he makes you your first proper cup of English tea. 

It was an immediate yes. 

“Looks like Bruce had the same idea about waffles this morning…” you chuckled at the hastily cleaned up breakfast endeavor left behind on the counter space in front of you.  

Alfred sighs with a smile, “Indeed, in all his tidiness. I’m glad he’s eaten though, I swear sometimes if I don’t nudge him he’ll forget about his meals.” 

You’re starting to pick up more things about their relationship, their dynamics. 

How much you can tell Alfred loves Bruce, parental affection in his tone when he talks about him, knowing they’ve been through so much together, good and bad, and would do anything for each other, how they were a family…it feels so special to get glimpses of. 

Laughter and the smell of waffle batter and syrup fill the kitchen now, the misty fall morning making you feel especially cozy here next to him, by the heat of the stove listening to him indulge your questions about the perfect cup of tea. 

You don’t notice at first but you find yourself carefully cataloging things as he talks like you're storing them for later like there’s a future you’re saving up these details for. The realization leaves you flustered, not sure if you can stop the feelings beginning to bubble up the more time you spend with him. 

But you try not to dwell on it for long, fresh Belgian style waffles with blueberries on top were calling your name, unable to stop yourself from doing a delighted wiggle in your seat at the taste. 

He grinned at that. 

So he was handsome and caring and romantic and sexy and proving to be a good cook too? 

Again, you’d be pinching yourself if you weren’t such a ball of excitement. 

You talked some more as you ate together, telling him about the show, how you came up with the routines, talking to him about your friends, mentioning that they knew about him and were so thrilled he came to watch you dance, how he’d scored points with them over that which made his cheeks pink up a tad, warming your heart even more. 

How he could intimidate you in the best way one moment and then be so adorably sweet the next bewildered you. 

You also shared your love for the style of the kitchen, perking up when Alfred told you the decor credit had to be given to Dory, their housekeeper, mentioning that she had been a dancer in her youth and that he’s sure she would adore you.

“Of course, I have her beat in that department but I may be biased.” 

The way he said it made your cheeks burn with warmth, caught off guard by his suaveness once again, heart soaring at his words, how he stated it as a fact. 

He was going to be the death of you. 

The plates had long since been cleared and put in the sink to soak, mid-morning flying by as you spent time in the main room with him, looking over his books, the collection of different antiques and heirlooms in cases that filled the spaces of shelves, a happy conversation going until you both realized the time. 

He drove you home after you gathered your things, reluctantly kissing him goodbye at your door, thanking him for everything with a bashful, barely contained grin. 

You watched him go after a moment and another kiss, not wanting him to be late for the board meeting he was headed to. 

A collection of memories from last night, a few indulgent favorite moments, would be heavy on your mind all day you were sure of it and there wasn’t much of your own self restraint left to keep from spending the rest of your free time daydreaming about it all. 

Not that you minded one single bit!

LATER THAT EVENING….

The Iceberg Lounge was busy on the heels of another show. 

You weren’t dancing in this one, it was your night off from the stage so Amber and Kiera could perform their routines, instead getting plucked from bar duties to deliver a few ‘packages’ and a drink to Oz up in his office. 

You’d rather deal with any other man out in the crowd but there wasn’t any getting out of it, a thick envelope of cash placed on your drinks platter, a quick shuffle in your steps as you were nudged in the direction of his private office by one of his security detail. 

There were two drinks on the platter tonight and you kept your fingers crossed it meant he had company when you got there, not wanting to spend any moment alone with him if you could help it. 

Oz has a bad side nobody wanted to be on, his perfectly content side was sleazy at best and downright dangerous at worst and you were already on thin ice with the boss. 

You were sure he hadn’t forgotten your insolence those weeks ago, how you had scoffed at him, bruised his ego about becoming the one in charge in this city, how he’d sent some of his guys to intimidate you, to stalk you and do god knows what else as you walked home that morning. 

It’s the memory of that very morning and how it quite literally thrust you into Alfred’s arms that made you take a deep breath to steady yourself as you approached the office. You can get through this. 

Oz isn’t alone to your relief, your eyes keeping low, trying to avoid eye contact as he and the man sitting next to him talk. 

There isn’t anything special about his guest, you know you don’t recognize his face and the plain suit and rectangle glasses he wore weren’t terribly out of the ordinary for the kind of people Oz did business with. 

He just didn’t look as threatening as the usual crowd, on the younger side too but judging by the way you felt the man eye you up and down you were sure his nonthreatening looks were plenty deceiving. 

You hated this, feeling like some helpless mouse in a trap, presenting the platter neatly, professionally, not a thing out of place. 

“Well look at that, about time someone got me those drinks I asked for,” Oz sneered, a gold tooth flashing in the glittering lights of the club. He noticed his guest raking their eyes over you and snickered, “Yeah, she’s a beauty ain’t she? Just finished teachin her a lesson in respect too so she’s puttin it on extra sweet for us tonight right, honey?” 

The pet name made you grit your teeth, the subtle message in his words making you want to throw his stupid drink in his face just to wipe the grin off of it. 

But you held your tongue and smiled, nodding politely, trying your best to keep calm, to not cry or scream or break something right there and then. 

“Ah, it seems she learns well. Dr. Jonathan Crane, pleasure to meet you,” he introduces himself and you give him a curt nod, knowing better than to give him your name. 

A doctor doing business with the shadiest man in Gotham, you were sure you’d seen everything. 

They return to their conversation and you wait for Oz to take the envelope of cash before you snatch your platter up and head for the door, spying him hand Mr. Crane an envelope of the new hot drug in town, drops.

Of course, the good doctor was dealing in Oz’s drug trade, it made sense now, he must be the newest high-paying customer. 

Whatever the deal was, you were glad not to stick around.

–

Another few hours had gone by and you were weaving through the tables near the stage, admiring your girls pulling off every dance without a hitch while you collected empty glasses and got people their drinks, being extra nice to those you knew would leave you good tips.

The night passed quickly, Oz finishing up business on the main floor, coming around to mingle with regulars before slinking off to some private hotel room next door, a different woman on his arm tonight than the last.

You were just glad he wasn’t going to be around for the rest of the night, able to relax a little more now.

The midnight hour came knocking, the show now finished, and closing duties for the night starting, making a quick detour to the dressing rooms to gush about everyone’s performances, loyal to the artform you were working here for first and foremost, Oz didn’t get to take that joy away from you. 

After your catchup with Kiera and the rest of the girls, you got to work wiping down tables, collecting any left behind tips in your section, lost in thought as you tidied up that the sharp buzz of your phone nearly startled you.  

It was a text notification from Alfred, the sight of his name making you smile until you opened it, a news article made within the last hour attached to his message that read, Darling, I’m coming to pick you up, I’ll be driving you home tonight, I don’t want you out on the streets trying to get home with this going on. I’ll be there soon x.

Something was going on out there and it didn’t sound good. 

Eyes bouncing up to the article, you opened it, the title sending a chill down your spine. 

GOTHAM TIMES - Violence Breaks Out at Paulie’s Diner after Unknown Chemical Attack 

You knew that diner, it wasn’t too far from The Iceberg either, not exactly close but near enough that being outside right now wasn’t safe. The information slowly began to sink in as you skimmed the article. 

A man was said to have been smoking in one of the booths and was asked to stop before he attacked staff, wearing some sort of mask that released a gas chemical, chaos erupted right after, and nearly everyone in the diner was either badly injured or killed. 

That wasn’t all either, dread knotting in your stomach at the message this masked man had left behind. 

This is Gotham’s only warning. Fear The Scarecrow.

They were calling the gas, fear toxin, from what you could tell. Reporters were saying this is likely the first attack among many and investigators were already working on finding the man.

Unease filled your chest at the events unfolding, pictures and videos of the incident circulating in your news feed. It was everywhere. 

An all too familiar worry began to rise, reminding you of the previous year, The Riddler putting the city underwater for months, and now this Scarecrow, whoever he was, seemed just as bad if not worse with his toxin. 

You hoped Alfred could make it without trouble, understanding and grateful that he hadn’t hesitated in his decision to come and get you even if you weren’t necessarily near the danger but also worrying for his sake too, not wanting him to get caught up in the madness that seemed to follow when things like this happened. 

Finishing up the last of what needed to be done you rushed back to the dressing rooms to see if anyone else had heard, warning everyone you passed to be safe as they headed out, finding Roxie and Bambi before they left the club and Kiera and Amber right behind them. 

You all huddled near the stage entrance of the alley, talking about what was going on when you got a call from Alfred saying he was parked outside the alley and would come walk you to the car. 

“Are your friends with you, love?” 

“Yeah we were just talking about what happened, is it really bad out there? Some of the girls were wondering if it wasn’t too bad to catch a train home.”

“Things are...quiet so far but tense. I think that’s too risky, people are already starting to panic, and I do not like the idea of you ladies being on the subway this late at night. If your friends are comfortable, I’d be more than happy to take them home too.”

God, he was so sweet. 

You really appreciated just how concerned he was, understanding why he wasn’t leaving this to chance even if he understood you were capable of looking after yourselves. It made you feel safe to know he was here, and he was serious and respectful about protecting you and by extension, the people you cared about. 

It meant a great deal and the feeling was shared by the group as you told them what Alfred had said, thanking him softly and hanging up before you were all heading out the back door, meeting Alfred halfway, greeting you with open arms. 

He greeted you all with immediate reassurances, a sense of calm urgency about his body language that reassured you he knew what he was doing, that told you he was capable as he led you to his car just up ahead at the mouth of the alleyway. 

You all stuck close to his side, his arms down but positioned out just slightly, keeping himself between you and the space of the open street ahead, smoothly unlocking and opening the car door, seeing that each of you was tucked safely inside before he was checking his surroundings briefly, slipping into the drivers seat a quick moment later. 

Everyone decided they were going to crash the night at Bambi’s place not too far from your own and a good distance away from Downtown, Alfred already picking up the quickest route to her address. 

Now that things had settled some, introductions went around and everyone shared a giggle about being in this strange situation together, a smile beginning to creep up onto your face despite what was going on as your friends gently prodded Alfred with questions, all of them including yourself charmed by his answers. 

You thought it was safe to say he’d passed whatever kind of test they had for him, Roxie starting off a chain of thank you’s when Bambi’s apartment building came into view, her and Amber making swooning gestures as the car came to a stop, making you shake your head and shoo them out of the car. 

“Have a good night, ladies. Please be safe,” Alfred chuckled his own goodbyes, sharing a happy look with you at their collective, “We will!”

He waited till he was sure they were inside before driving away, his hand finding its place on your thigh as he took you home, his thumb passing over your knee soothingly from time to time. 

Sooner than you wished he was parking outside your place, following close behind you, protecting your back as you walked to your door. 

You fumbled with your keys for a second, fingers a little slow with the biting chill of the air, unlocking the door soon after, turning reluctantly to say goodnight. 

“You can’t stay can you?” The question is shy, quiet coming off your lips and you’re a little worried you sounded too clingy or too invested when his hands come up to cup your cheeks, lifting your head a little so you’d look at him.

Of course, there would be nothing but gentleness on his features, you should have known he wouldn’t be off put by your words.

“My darling, I’d love nothing more than to stay. I’m not keen on leaving you alone tonight, I would if I could, lovely. I’m sorry to disappoint.” 

There’s worry laced in his tone and it stings your heart, rushing to reassure him that he was far from disappointing you. Reminding him how special and amazing the last day with him had been, that you and your friends were safe tonight because of him.

And yes you’d miss him but knew he and Bruce had undertaken a lot trying to build up and fix Wayne Enterprises, and you knew that came with late nights, knew he couldn’t always stay and that was okay because you knew he’d make time for you when he could and you’d do the same for him.

Your words seemed to soothe him, resting his case with a purposeful nod as you leaned in to kiss him goodnight. 

“Get some rest, love. And hey, those doors and windows of yours stay closed and locked, is that understood?” 

The slight serious shift in his tone, the soft sternness of it almost made you lose your breath, nodding and squeaking out a “Yes. Promise.” a delayed second later. 

What was it about being cared for so fiercely that made you want him so badly? It simply wasn’t fair!

Sharing another soft kiss you slipped inside to the warmth of your apartment, waving to him through your window and watching him drive off after a moment. 

The street was quiet so far tonight though you could hear the distant wailing of sirens and the particular hazy glow of the bat shaped beacon illuminating the sky above told you things were far from quiet in the city.

You didn’t have much faith in whatever investigators were on the case to find Scarecrow before something else could happen but maybe just maybe, The Batman had a chance…if he did it once before…

Forcing yourself away from the window you shut your blinds, retreating into the hot steam of the shower, later curled in bed with a book, reading but finding that you had to go back and re-read a passage every so often, lost in thought again, things coming full circle to thinking of Alfred, of your feelings.

Softened and vulnerable now that you thought it over, scared to wonder, to ask, to know if these feelings were the same for him. 

It scared you to know he affected you this much already, that you cared about him and wanted him and felt things for him more than you had cared to admit even a day ago.

Could it be too soon, too dangerous to think of a potential relationship with him, to let yourself feel like this was more than just a few great dates and amazing sex, that maybe there was something more beginning here and you could trust in it?

You wanted nothing more, knowing in your heart already that if you were wrong it would crush you to bits but that’s not what you wanted to dwell on tonight, not with so much doom already on the horizon. 

No, tonight you’d indulge yourself, thinking of the older man that now occupied so much of your thoughts, dreaming of his strong arms wrapped around you and the way he’d held you close like he never wanted to let you go. 

The more you thought about all the moments you’d spent with him since you met, you started to feel like maybe you could trust your gut with this one, holding onto the thrilling hunch that the answer would be everything you were hoping for.

-----

A/N: Ok ok ok how are we feeling, what are we thinking about this one? Let me know!! And yay we have a new character/villain edition with Scarecrow in the mix! I thought he would be a good one to add to this story especially with the fear toxin storyline, I have sooo much cooking for this plot with a few influences from different Batman media so I can’t wait to show you where this takes us!! Also couldn’t resist sprinkling more protective Alfred in this one so I hope this is a good read! I enjoyed writing it and hope you enjoy reading it!

Thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs make my day! 🖤

some tags no pressure: @eupheme @saradika @obiknights @tarrenterror25 @thaddeuscranes @flamingdisputes @squidlywiddly87 @madamepoelzig @mariahthelioness29 @unrefinedmusings @xnodamsel @allaboardthereadingrailroad @yelenas-lova @aislupu @kneelforloki @xoxovivarecs @fluffyprettykitty @ayoarticulate

[blossom-hwa]

5:13 pm | c.bg

it was raining about a week ago but I was so warm and sleepy in my room that I came up with this :) hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Beomgyu x reader

Genre: fluff, domestic!au

Word Count: 663

It’s a quiet, rainy day when Beomgyu calls. 

TXT Masterlist

[ 5:13 pm: rain on the window like your lips on my face ] you’re mid-yawn, half settling into a nap, when beomgyu calls. 

“good morning.”

you roll your eyes so hard you’re certain he can hear it over the phone. “it’s mid afternoon.”

“it’s morning somewhere.” to punctuate the inane thought he yawns, which causes you to yawn as well, more deeply than before.

“piss off,” you say when the ping pong round of yawns is finished, fondly, so fondly that neither of you can hold back a laugh when you stop speaking. “what do you want?”

on the other end beomgyu sighs softly, more of a brief exhalation than anything, but somehow the tiny sound seems to wrap around you like the warm blanket already settled over your shoulders, relaxing any final tensions in your face and body and dragging your eyelids down further. “’m warm. and sleepy.”

“so am I.” you blink your eyes open a little more to look out of your window, at the gray sky and clouds scattering rain onto the panes of glass. it’s cold outside, you know, but somehow that just makes you feel warmer, burrowed all comfortable into your blankets and pillows as rain drums steadily on the roof. like the rain isn’t just water pattering on glass, but beomgyu’s lips pressing kisses to your skin. “I was almost napping, jerk.”

“oops,” beomgyu says with so little sincerity that you have to snort. “you should come over. be warm ‘n sleepy together.”

you ponder the thought. it’s certainly an inviting one, curling up with your boyfriend in his comfortable bed with his comfortable warmth on a rainy day like this, but more inviting than the warmth of your own blankets right now? “you come over here,” you bargain, “and we can still be warm and sleepy together.”

“no, you come here.”

“no, you.”

“no, you.”

“no -”

“I'll pay for takeout.”

damn. he does know you too well. already your mouth is starting to water at the thought of your favorite dish from your favorite restaurant, of sitting on the floor of beomgyu’s tiny apartment and eating together because you’re too tired to sit at his equally tiny dining table. “I hate you,” you say with no real venom because you’re smiling a little too hard, but it’s fine because you can practically hear beomgyu’s smile too. 

“I'll order the usual,” he says, and despite the fact that he’s won your little mini argument, the quiet certainty in his voice makes your smile grow softer. you fell in love with beomgyu’s brightness, his laugh, the way he seems to exude the rays of the sun even on the darkest of days, but it was a pleasant discovery to learn of his softness, his gentle romanticism, the quieter ways in which he’s patiently learned to care for you behind the sunlit smiles and cackling laughs. “unless you want something else?”

“no, that’s perfect.” with that, you finally acquiesce to the need to slip out from under your soft, warm blankets, to stumble out of bed and slip on your coat and shoes, tucking an umbrella under your arm. “I'll pick up snacks. be there soon.”

the force of beomgyu’s smile that you can’t see hits you even through the phone, infusing you with a warmth that doesn’t fade even as you prepare to step into the cold rain. “counting the minutes.”

“I'm going to be late on purpose,” you threaten. 

he laughs easily. “no, you won’t.”

he’s right. you won’t, and he knows it. you sigh, still smiling. “don’t fall asleep before I get there.”

“no promises,” he mumbles, and privately you think that even if he did fall asleep, you wouldn’t be so upset. “get here faster and you might catch me before I pass out.”

“you drive a hard bargain.” with that, you start to put your phone down. “I'll see you soon. I love you.”

on the other end, beomgyu yawns, but even that couldn’t disguise the fondness in his garbled words. “I love you too.”

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