#he leaves to give her space to sort through everything

[haveihitanerve]

i would like to point out- since many people tend to use this as a reason for why azriel and elain are meant to be together- recognizing someones power does not mean that they are destined to be together or that they are perfect.

beron was the one who realized luciens power. so did his brothers. they try at every turn to kill him. (except eris but that a different matter for a diff time)

rhys was the one who first noted nestas power

lucien and tamlin recognize feyres power

just because azriel is the one who recognizes elain is a seer does not mean he truly sees her.

we get an inside to luciens mind through feyre, when he comes to visit her in the library. his thoughts are about how shes so thin. and she needs to eat more. he has no bad thoughts aimed at her, not that i think azriel does but diff point again, and afterwards tells feyre she needs a healer. just to check. he has been through traumatic experiences before. he knows how mentally it can ruin you. he wants to help

when elain starts talking about the firebird, lucien offers help. he does not know her that well, she avoids him like the plague, but he asks feyre, her sister, if she needs something, if he can do anything. azriel cuts him off and says she does not need anything. then he says, we need.... a seer. he realizes what elains power is. yay. wow. good job bud! (no hate to az) lucien was concerned about elain. worried for her mentally and physical state. az was able to see from afar what her words meant, because he wasnt actually looking at her. he didnt truly see the gauntness, he cuts lucien off before he even realizes what elain needs, or if she needs something.

we learn in the bonus chapter az has a poor opinion of lucien. maybe because he is in love with elain, maybe because he was in love with mor, whatever the reason, he doesnt think highly of lucien. he didnt cut lucien off because he had a better idea of what elain needed, he cut him off because he didnt like lucien being the one to say it. (again not necessarily hate towards az)

literally just because az realized that elain was a seer does not mean he is meant to be hers. we can see/hear in the bonus chapter that az wants to claim elain. he believes he is entitled to her because lucien doesnt deserve her and his two brothers both have an archeron sister of their own. he does not deserve her just because no one else realized her power.

[queenofwands89]

The Storm Within Tyler Owens x fem!reader

Summary: What dramatic turn of events unfolds when Y/N storms off after an argument with Tyler, only to face the fury of a tornado that strikes their town and leaves Y/N injured?

Warnings: Tornado (duh lol), angst, arguing, mention of injuries, description of injuries, sad.

Notes: I wrote this because I am a whore for Tyler, and I love angst and pain. Enjoy byeeee

You feel the tension build in the air long before Tyler raises his voice. It's the kind of unease that clings to the back of your mind, an ineffable sense that something is about to go terribly wrong. You stand in the spacious, cluttered garage that serves as the command center for Tyler's storm-chasing crew. The storm models flashing on the multiple screens show bleak promises of another monstrous storm front moving across Oklahoma.

It starts as a simple disagreement. Tyler is passionate—almost recklessly so—about chasing a particular storm cell that evening. You object, voicing your concerns about the jeopardy it poses not only to Tyler but also to the entire crew.

"You never listen, Tyler!" Your voice quavers, your frustration edging too close to the surface. Your heart hammers in your chest. "You treat this like it's some adventure, but it’s dangerous!"

Tyler rakes his fingers through his hair, his expression a mix of determination and exasperation. "It's because it is dangerous," he shoots back. "But we do this because it saves lives, Y/N. If we can predict these storms better, we can give people the time they need to get to safety."

"And what about us? What about the people who love you? Are we just collateral damage in your crusade?"

Boone, who has been editing footage on his laptop nearby, looks up, his usually cheerful face clouded with concern. Lilly and Dexter exchange worried glances, while Dani silently tinkers with a drone, her stoic demeanor betrayed by the slightest furrow of her brow.

"I can’t sit by and do nothing while you risk everything, Tyler!" Your eyes well up with tears that you fiercely try to blink away. "One day, you might not come back."

Tyler sighs heavily. He takes a step towards you, but you instinctively recoil, the hurt in your eyes deepening the chasm between you. "Y/N, you know I love you, but this—this is what I do. It’s who I am."

"Well, I can't do this right now," you say, your voice cracking. "I need to clear my head."

Without another word, you grab your coat and storm out of the garage, slamming the door behind you. The echo of the slam lingers, punctuating the silence that envelops the room.

Tyler turns back to his crew, realizing that the argument has sapped the collective energy and morale. Boone breaks the silence with his usual attempt at lightening the mood.

"She'll cool off, man. Just give her some time," he offers, though his eyes betray the uncertainty he feels.

Lilly nods, her calm demeanor trying to instill a sense of reassurance. "Tyler, she just needs space. She loves you; that much is clear. Just let her process this."

Dexter, wiser and ever the emotional compass, adds softly, "Sometimes the best way to show love is to step back and let them come to terms with their fears on their own."

Tyler nods, although doubt gnaws at him. There is a sort of irony in chasing something as unpredictable as a tornado and yet being completely at a loss when it comes to matters of the heart.

You storm off down the gravel road, away from the storm-chasing headquarters. The expanses of Oklahoma stretch around you, vast and indifferent. You walk quickly, your thoughts a tumultuous whirl that rivals the storm brewing on the horizon.

Before long, a low rumble of thunder echoes in the distance. Your instincts tell you to seek shelter, but you are too consumed by your emotions to heed the warnings. Your phone buzzes, probably Jake checking in with you, but you ignore it.

As minutes turn to an hour, the sky darkens ominously, the oppressive weight of the storm hanging palpably in the air. You look up just as the first sharp gust of wind howls past you, sending a chill down your spine.

Your phone rings again. This time, you pick it up. It is Tyler.

"Y/N, you need to get back here. Now! There's an strom projected to hit our area. It's not safe out there!"

Before you can respond, the roar of the wind drowns out his voice. In the distance, a wall of debris begins to rise—terrifying in its beauty and formidable in its power. You feel a jolt of fear as you realize the windstorm is bearing down on you.

Panic-stricken, you try to find cover, but there is nowhere to go. The winds intensify, whipping your hair across your face and pulling at your clothes. In a desperate attempt to hold onto something, anything, you grab onto a nearby fence post as the monstrous tornado descends upon the town.

Back at the garage, the team is glued to their screens, tracking the terrifying path of the cyclone. Tyler's eyes are wide with dread, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

"We need to go find her!" he shouts, his voice breaking with worry as he lunges toward the door.

Dexter and Boone spring into action, their grips tight on his arms, holding him back with all their strength. "Tyler, we will find her," Dexter insists, his voice steady yet intense. "But rushing headfirst into this will only get us all killed. We need a plan."

Tyler struggles against their hold, desperation etched into every line of his face. "You don't understand! She’s out there, and every second counts!"

Lilly's eyes mirror his fear but she nods in agreement with Dexter. "He's right, Tyler. We have to be smart about this."

Dani is already at the armored storm-chasing vehicle, her fingers flying over the controls as she starts the engine. "Let's go," she commands, her voice a beacon of resolve amidst the chaos.

The ride out is like plunging into a nightmare. The town around them is unrecognizable—a hellscape of uprooted trees, shattered windows, and debris swirling in the violent wind. The roar of the storm is deafening, a monstrous wall of sound that seems intent on swallowing them whole.

Every turn is fraught with danger, every street a potential deathtrap. The armored vehicle groans under the force of the gale, but it presses onward, cutting a determined path through the destruction.

Tyler's eyes scan the devastation, his heart pounding, every fiber of his being focused on one thing: finding you. The storm's fury lashes at them, but their resolve is unbreakable. They are driven by a singular, desperate hope—to bring you back alive.

As the harrowing storm begins to relent, the world around you is a landscape of devastation. The monstrous tornado has passed, leaving behind a chaotic aftermath. The team ventures deeper into the wreckage, eyes scanning anxiously for any sign of you.

Then they see you. Crumpled on the ground, clutching a fence post as though it’s the only thing tethering you to life, you lie unconscious, battered by the storm’s fury. Debris is scattered all around, a haunting testament to the storm's wrath. Tyler's heart wrenches at the sight.

Without a second thought, he leaps out of the vehicle, ignoring the stinging wind and flying debris that tug at his clothes and batter his body. "No, no, no," he mutters under his breath, sprinting towards you with a singular focus.

"Y/N!" he cries out, his voice breaking as he nears you. The sound barely cuts through the howl of the wind. He kneels beside you, wrapping his arms around your frail form, shielding you from the remnants of the storm. "Please, Y/N. Wake up."

Boone, sitting in the driver’s seat, immediately jumps out of the vehicle as well. He turns to Lilly and Dexter, his expression serious and determined. "Lilly, grab the emergency blankets. Dexter, I need you to help get Y/N into the truck, now!"

Boone rushes over to Tyler, his mouth set in a grim line. "Tyler, move aside. We need to get her stabilized." He swiftly yet carefully checks your pulse and breathing. "She's still with us. We have to move quickly."

“Be careful!” Tyler shouts over the wind to the crew, his voice tinged with panic. “She’s hurt!”

They work with meticulous care, gently extricating you from the wreckage. Tyler's hands shake as he helps lift you, his mind a whirlwind of desperate prayers and fear.

Dani, standing nearby, fights back tears, her voice breaking as she says, "Hang in there, Y/N. We’re not losing you."

They rush you back to the relative safety of the vehicle, urgency in every step. The vehicle starts moving, navigating through the storm’s terrible wake with a singular mission: to get you to medical attention.

Tyler sits beside you, cradling your hand in his, his eyes never leaving your face. “Hang in there, Y/N,” he whispers, as though sheer willpower could keep you tethered to life. “We’re almost there. You’re going to be okay. I promise.”

The crew speeds through the chaotic aftermath, dodging fallen branches and uprooted signs. Dexter keeps a vigilant eye on the road, never slowing down. Lilly's hands shake as she dabs at your wounds with a cloth from the medical kit, trying to do whatever she can to help.

All the while, Tyler stays with you, his heart breaking and yet holding onto hope, as the vehicle barrels towards the hospital, each mile bringing you closer to safety. Tyler holds you tightly, his voice trembling and tears mingling with the rain on his cheeks as he whispers, "I'm so sorry. I love you. Please, hold on. Just hold on a little longer, baby."

[st4rymoon]

✧𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬✧

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟏: 𝐓𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐫 | 18+ | 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭 [sorry for the hold up I’ve been so busy this month 😭 it’s not even October anymore but just pretend like it is]

𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

warnings: switch Miguel, p in v, unprotected sex, manhandling, size kink, Miguel is a slut for thighs, slight argument with reader and her mom, subby Miguel, nerd Miguel, teasing, language, pet names, soft dom miguel, flirting, sexual tension

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫-𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

You really hate your mom right now. You told her about your struggle in chemistry and now here you were. Apparently to her, her best friends brother happens to be an expert in everything.

“You know he can be some sort of killer right? You just GAVE HIM MY ADDRESS?” You yelled into the phone. “Yeah yeah, I’ve met him hundreds of times! You remember him don’t you?” She sighed.

“That doesn’t mean you should give him my damn address mom. What the hell are you thinking” you seethed.

You remember him somewhat, well when you saw him last you were in your early teens. He was just a year older than you and annoyed the hell out of you. “Don’t be so dramatic. He’ll be there in 30” your mom ended the phone call leaving you in anger.

What in her right mind would lead her to giving him your address? Maybe if you leave now you can make an excuse, Right? No. You know your mom would tease you about this if you left.

You fixed yourself up and sat on the couch, watching your usual binge worthy show while waiting for Einstein to show up at your front door.

You tensed as you heard a knock at the door. Looking through the peep hole, you could see the a broad chest with backpack straps on their back. God how tall is this guy?

You opened the door and see the once messy haired short teen you once knew now a complete behemoth of a man. His shirt hugging his thick arms and chest while some grey sweats hugged around his waist.

His glasses sat at the bridge of his nose, dark messy wavy hair, chiseled jaw, god he looked like a Greek god.

Miguel couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows slightly as he saw you, he definitely didn’t remember you like this either. His eyes instinctively moved to your plump thighs as your shorts rode up high. Your thigh high socks definitely didn’t help.

He cleared his throat in hopes to snap himself out of it but you caught yourself before he could “Miguel right?” You smiled. “Ye- yeah, yeah” he nodded “Your mom gave me your address? I told her it might be a little weird if I just showed up but she wouldn’t take no for an answer” he chuckled awkwardly.

“That sounds like my mother, if your busy and all you don’t need to worry about it”

“I don’t have anything going on, but hey I’m already here right? Might as well?” He joked. The atmosphere was tense but you couldn’t help but invite him in “come in” you smiled and gave him space to walk in.

Miguel’s eyes scanned through your apartment, clean and tidy which he liked “So you’re struggling with Chem right?” He hummed as he turned back to look at you.

His breath hitched as he saw you bend down to get a few waters from the mini-fridge. Your ass was in perfect display as the flimsy white socks hugged the back of your thighs. His eyes flew down to his feet as you stood up and walked towards him.

You were unaware of his eyes lingering on you. You sat besides him, as you pulled out some of your work. “I’m struggling with these conversions” you sighed as you stared down at your insufferable homework.

When you looked up at Miguel you swear you could’ve jumped onto him and kissed him.

He was staring down at you, his eyes already on yours as he nodded. His body slumped slight towards you, close enough to feel how warm he was “What’s the thing that’s confusing?” He hummed.

You stuttered as you explained it to him. He nodded and started his teaching. You didn’t know how long you were studying, it flew by surprisingly fast and helped the tension disappear.

“I need a break” you whined as you slammed the book in annoyance “I think you deserved one” Miguel laughed as he placed the books back onto the table.

“How have you been? I feel like I haven’t seen you in a while” you smiled, sitting on your thighs now and body completely facing him. “I- I’ve been good. A lot of studying per usual”

“How about you? You definitely aren’t the same person I remember” Miguel joked “stressed as always and same here, I definitely didn’t expect this new you. I mean I remember the annoying freshman Miguel” you teased.

“New me?” He chuckled “I mean you grew like 10 ft and look like a damn super hero” you chuckled. Miguel felt himself heat up at your compliment. Surprisingly, he didn’t get many.

Maybe it was because he was a hermit most of the time but it took him by surprise “Thanks” he nervously chuckled as he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. His eyes scanned your body in a way that told you what he was thinking, you chuckled as he cleared his throat once he noticed you looking at him.

“So you live near here?” You hummed, Miguel nodded with his mouth slightly agar as you curled up your thighs onto your chest, slightly exposing your plump cunt through your shorts. “Ye- yeah I do, about 20 minutes” he nodded.

“It’s a surprise that we go to the same university yet I’ve never seen you” Miguel try’s his best to not make things awkward. “Different schedule’s, the campus is huge” you teased.

You could read Miguel like a book, it was cute. He was nervous despite being older than you and the obvious size difference. He was fidgeting with his hands and trying his best to not eye fuck you right now.

“You’re really trying hard not to check me out” you chuckled as you noticed him glare down at your tits “I- no I wasn’t I was-“ he stuttered. “Don’t worry, you're a nice piece of eye candy too” you cooed.

You could see his chest rising with every breath, every inch you scooted the heavier he breathed “why are you so nervous?” You cooed. “Im not” miguel replied, his eyes his glued onto yours ”sure”

“Don’t be nervous, I don’t bite” you pouted. Miguel really hated you right now. He was a gentleman and always contained himself. But seeing you tease him in your pretty pjs was getting to him. “What a shame” he whispered as his finger softly ghosted past your leg.

You perked up at the comment, what a shame? You watched as his fingers slowly rubbed up your skin. A whine escaped your lips as he pulled back, his eyes shooting up at the sound.

Miguel couldn’t help it, he leaned and kissed you. He had no idea why he did it, he isn’t the type to do these things but fuck did it feel good.

You jumped onto his lap, both of you messily kissing each other after a few hours of seeing each other. Miguel was panting, whining in your mouth as he felt your tits pressing against him.

His thumbs circled your hips as he softly runts his hips up into you “you feel so good” Miguel hummed as your lips latched onto his neck.

Miguel’s eyes were trained on your thighs, he watched them grind onto his sides as he bucked ups hips up. He watched them giggle as he fucked himself into you fully clothed.

Miguel was putty in your hands, he whined and squirmed as you pressed your body against his, hands tangled into his hair as he sat back in ecstasy. “Please” he whispered, your head shot up “yeah?” You cooed.

“Take ‘em off” he quietly spoke as he tugged at your shorts. You chuckled, obeying his wishes and kicked off your shorts. Miguel let out a pathetic whine as he saw you weren’t wearing any panties, your pussy on full view as you straddled back onto him.

“You gonna take these off? Or am I doing all the work?” You mocked as you ran your hands up his thighs. He nodded dumbly as he held you up to his chest with his arm as the other tugged his sweats off.

You were practically salivating at the sight of his cock spring out of his tightly fitted boxers. He was huge in every fucking way. “You won’t be doing the work”’he whispered into your ear as he hugged you onto his chest.

His lips latched onto your neck as he buried himself under your chin, sloppily licking and biting his way up to kiss you. The kiss was messy and sloppy as he pulled you in for a kiss with a fist full of your hair in hand.

Your eyes rolled back at the sensation of his cock rubbing between your folds, sticky slick coating him as he watched your body reacting to his.

You let out a yelp as he man handled you onto your back, his hands instinctively lifting your plump thighs onto your chest as he watched your pussy glistening in slick. He let out an animalistic moan as his eyes trailed up your thighs and to your face.

Your glossy eyes staring up at him as the flimsy material of your socks hugged the back of your thighs and pussy in full view would make anyone in their right mind lose their mind.

“God you’re so fucking pretty” he hummed as he fisted his cock and his tip dragged it through your folds with a smile on his face.

You were taken back by the way he looked above you, the guy who was under your spell a few minute’s ago now towering over you like he’s about to ruin you was driving you crazy.

“Please” you whined as he continued his teasing. He smiled, one of his thick hands rubbing up your thigh as he nodded “no more teasing” he cooed.

You let out a whine as he pushed himself inside you, his fat tip already bullying it’s way inside. “oh fu- oh my!” You moaned as he seethed, his eyes watching the way you hugged his cock, your needy pussy taking him greedily.

“Fuckkk…. Ah- fu-“ he hummed as he began to thrust his hips, one hand holding your legs onto your chest and the holding himself up for a better position.

You gripped onto his hand as he picked up the pace, his hand wrapping to hold yours as he let your legs fall to his sides and give you a sloppy kiss. The both of you moaned into each other as he slammed into your pussy.

You bounced roughly along with his hard long slams, you sunk into the cushions as his body weight had you caged under him “m- m- ah Miguel” you dumbly spoke.

Miguel chuckled in response, watching you already cock drunk by a few thrusts “I know baby, feels so good huh?” He cooed. You squeeze his hand harder as he hooked your legs around his waist, giving him more leeway to slam into you.

The couch was creaking loudly as he pounded you into oblivion, the noise complaints you’d be getting later this week were the least of your worries as both your moans filled the living room.

“F- feels so good mhm ah- fuck” Miguel panted as he felt you pulsing around him. You scratched at his thick arms that held you in place, your face turning into his bicep that was pressed besides you.

You moaned into him as your orgasm filled all of your senses, you shook uncontrollably under him as he angled his hips up, curving his cock perfectly inside you.

He felt himself dumbly smiling as he watched you squirm and gushing under him. He loved how fucking small you looked right now. Your pretty little face buried in his arm as he fucked your pussy like a madman. “So fucking pretty” he huffed as he felt himself twitch inside you, his moans filling your ears as he fucked his loads inside you.

You moaned at the feeling of everything, you were so overwhelmed by pleasure. His cock buried inside you, his pretty moans filling your ears, and his warm body pressed closely onto yours.

Miguel almost crushed you as he orgasmed but before he could, his arm quickly flipped you over. He sunk into the cushion as he placed you above him. Your head fell onto his chest as he grunted in bliss, cock still buried in you.

You let out a sigh of relief as he pulled out softly, his hands running over your skin as if you were made of glass. He made sure to be gentle as he sat up, his sweaty body pressed onto yours as his hand ran down your hair “you ok?” He cooed.

You nodded with a smile on your face, his hand lifting your face and kissing you softly “so much for chemistry”

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Tenacity

Pairing: Boston Joel Miller x Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: Joel Miller will never allow himself to take what he wants and you know that. How can a broken shower make him realize it's too late and he's already fallen for you? (Or Joel fucks you on his beat up couch in the QZ.) Warnings: Smut, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, riding, apocalypse birth control, old furniture doing old furniture things, a grown man dealing with feelings, apologies for the Tess erasure. Words: 2,300

A/N: @ohheypedrito mentioned couch Joel and I couldn't help myself, I am forever in her debt. Thank you to @jennaispunk for beta'ing

Masterlist

____

He knows he shouldn’t have let you in, he should’ve stayed silent and let you think he wasn’t home, but he can never say no to you, a fact you’re well aware of. Your shower has been broken for months, sure you can ask another neighbor, but Joel’s place is your first choice, never bringing a towel, always choosing to wrap yourself in his scent. 

You smirk that devilish look and without a word saunter into his bathroom. He settles on the couch, large body dipping in the underfilled cushions, his back aches after a long day of work. The last thing he needs to deal with is his budding erection pressing against the metal zipper but he just can’t stop thinking about your body dripping wet in that damn dirty shower of his. 

He’s exhausted, his head thuds against the floral wallpaper turning yellow with age and decay, he can only assume this miniscule apartment once belonged to a nice old woman who liked soft pretty things. Joel too likes soft pretty things, the one he likes the most just happens to be you, currently happily humming behind the bathroom door you refuse to fully close. His eyes focus up on the dingy ceiling above praying for a reprieve from the emotions that bloom within him whenever he thinks of you. 

The tap turns off, he steels himself, straightening his sore body. God damnit, he thinks throwing an arm to stretch across the back of the couch. The hand resting against his upper thigh nervously taps against his jeans. Funny that you’re the only thing in this world to make him anxious and yet your presence always leaves him tranquil.  He already knows where this will lead, he must be some sort of masochist, never feeling like he deserves your attention but still accepting anything you’ll gift him. 

The sound of your post shower routine floats across the small room. Curtain opens, curtain shuts, pitter patters of your feet to the towel rack, a woosh of the heavy fibers settling against your body, your contented hum that prickles against the back of Joel’s neck. You’re the only bright spot in this hellhole, a shining ray that blinds his mind and heart whenever he wonders how someone like you can exist in a world like this. 

The dim living room floods with a beam of light from the bathroom, steam billows out of the doorway, your form wrapped only in his towel steps out of the fog, he swears this might be what heaven looks like. There’s enough space for you to change into your clothes in the bathroom, but you never do. 

That smirk shows up again, heaven and hell existing in one crooked grin stretched across your mouth. Joel’s never been a religious man, sure he’s prayed during hopeless times in his life, but tonight, he prays to whatever being that will listen to give him the strength so he may provide you everything he has without falling even harder. 

Temptress… your foot rests atop the coffee table, delicate hands running along your outstretched leg rubbing sweet smelling oil across your skin. Joel knows his body is marred and battered, rough and calloused, he questions why in the hell you’d ever want your silken curves anywhere near him. You switch legs, if only the room was brighter he could turn his head just a bit and look up the towel. 

No need for that, a telepathic wave treads through his brain as he watches you unwrap the towel and toss it aside. Naked and standing only a few feet away from him, he knows it’s not voyeurism when you’re so eagerly inviting him to look but he still feels an inkling of shame. Sweet, sweet girl. Your oil coated palms leave a trail of sheen across the skin he can’t wait to taste. Silently, you saunter over, small bottle of oil in hand, he knows how your skin tingles from the peppermint after applying, he can almost feel it warming his lips. He leans forward, palm instinctively outstretched for you to deposit a few drops of oil into his awaiting hand.  

You turn around and kneel on the floor, his hands start at your shoulders lightly rubbing across your skin, tracing the path of your spine. He’s hesitant to put too much pressure, always afraid to deface the gorgeous individual you are, neglecting the fact that this always leads to you heedlessly asking him for more. The oil smooths his movements, your head bobs back and forth melting into his touch. There’s no type of divinity he’d ever worship in the apocalypse, but he surely finds devotion with you and the symphony of quiet moans that leave your lips. 

“Feels good,” you whisper. “Thank you.”

He takes a deep breath letting his lungs deflate a long exhale, your gratitude unlocking another long buried sense of ease. Manners are lost in this world, you’re such a rarity. 

He doesn’t count himself as a lucky man, but when you turn around and nuzzle your clean face against his soot and dirt covered jeans he just might feel like he’s won the lottery. You plant a kiss against his bulge before pulling yourself up to straddle his lap. Joel’s hands subconsciously station themselves against your back, fingers lightly digging into your damp skin. Suddenly his back no longer ails him. 

“When’s the last time you bathed Joel?” You’re still warm from your shower, you cover him like a velvet blanket. 

“This morning,” he croaks out, overwhelmed by the sensation of you.   

“Mm. Did you think of me while in it? I know you have a habit of doing that.”

He nods, your eyes pooling with desire at the confession. 

His denim shirt feels constrictive, your bare skin is too tantalizing, he fidgets underneath, restless from the sensation of his heavy clothes. 

No need for that, rattles through his lust-addled brain. Your hands begin deftly unbuttoning his shirt. He loves the way your mouth drops and your head shakes incredulously whenever you get the first glimpse of his bronze skin. He loves that he’s been with you enough to know exactly how you’ll react to him. 

His shirt lands atop the towel.

“Perfect aim,” you smile.

Joel chuckles. You’re the only being on this earth that can make him laugh. 

You lean forward, placing your ear against his heart, he takes the longest, deepest breath getting lost in the moment, forgetting how much he likes to think he can fight this feeling. He can smell your yarrow shampoo mixed with the peppermint, this world literally stinks, and yet here you are fragrant and pleasing. 

Your hand brushes back and forth against a patch of chest hair, the other dragging up and down his arm. He loves when you pet him, nothing calms him more. He still can’t come up with an exact reason why he refuses to let himself have you when you’re the only thing he longs for. You’re torturing him right now, he wishes you were clueless about the power you hold over him. 

He places a kiss on your hair, breathing in your scent, he just can’t help himself.

“Wish I had wallpaper this pretty in my apartment,” you muse. 

“No need for the wallpaper, you’re pretty enough,” it escapes his lips before he can stop it. 

“Oh really?” Pulling back and sitting tall atop his lap, your eyebrow arches. “You think I’m prettier than faded old lady wallpaper?”

God damnit, your mouth is too goddamn smart. 

“You know what I mean.” 

“I do. You’re pretty too.” 

He wants to kiss that godforsaken smug smile off your lips. 

No need for that, crowds his mind, much like your lips do now against his. His mouth opens to accept your tongue. He groans against your mouth when you yank his hair, pulling his head back so you can lick into his mouth. He chases your mouth, sucking your lower lip between his plush lips. Your cunt finds the tent in his jeans and begins rocking against it. Your kiss turns sloppier, tongues rolling against each other, hot breaths intermingling. Your lips move down to nibble his chin, licking your way down to his neck. He growls your name when you clamp down and suck the tanned skin into your mouth. 

He needs to feel you against all of his skin. 

He’s never hated his belt more than right now as he clumsily unbuckles it between your writhing hips. 

“Christ,” he barks, quickly unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, you give him a temporary reprieve from your grinding as he raises his hips and yanks his pants down. 

He gathers you into his arms and leans forward, swiping the old books and magazines off the coffee table top laying you across it. 

He kicks out of his jeans, his knees protest as he sinks to his knees in front of you splayed across the oak. 

His eyes roll into the back of his head and flutter shut at the first taste of you. Tangy, sweet, all woman, all his, for as long as he thinks he deserves. 

Sweet, sweet girl.

Your coos and purrs dance through his ears twisting their way into his heart. He licks a stripe up your pussy, swirling his tongue around your clit and flattening against it. Your hands climb all over his hair, grasping and pulling, he loves when you take what you want from him. Forcing him to hand himself over to you, body, mind, soul, heart. Whether that be a shower or his tongue against your pussy.

He could stay here forever, the rest of his body still as a statue, just his mouth allowed to move against your sweet cunt, fucking you with his tongue, massaging your clit with his lips. 

Your hips thrash against his face, legs wrapping around his head, pushing him even farther into your searing pussy. 

He can feel you begin to dissolve into him, your thighs trembling against his ears, the pressure of your legs wrapped around him increasing. He’s encircled by all of your beauty, your slick pours into his mouth as your orgasm explodes into him. He drinks down everything you give him, never able to be greedy outside of his time spent with you writhing and naked under his touch. You unlock your legs, your body still quaking from your climax. 

She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

His cock stands weeping between his legs, he gathers the precum and spreads it across his tip before pumping himself watching your eyes hungrily focus on him. 

You spread your legs farther open with an unspoken invitation for him to take your pussy for his keeping. He accepts it, his wide cock slowly engulfing in your wet heat. 

You gasp and smile at the sensation, he feels his walls crumble.  

God damnit, there’s that damn smile again.

He loves how you take him, drawing your hips against his, the two of you tangled in hedonistic harmony here in this hellhole of a quarantine zone. You’re the only reason he stays. 

He’ll never allow himself to say it, he fights like hell to not feel it, yet another battle he’s going to lose. 

He bends forward, your head pinned between his forearms, he sucks at your lips, you can taste yourself all over his mustache. His cock slides in and out, pace turning more punishing the louder you cry out. Neighbors be damned, you’re the only one he likes, at least they’ll know you’re his. 

His weight presses against you and the rickety coffee table, both shaking as he pummels into your pussy. A crack emits from the leg he’s been meaning to fix, the decrepit coffee table disintegrates underneath all of his power. He’d laugh at his luck if he wasn’t so fucking turned on by you. Joel gathers you in his arms, throwing himself back against the couch, his cock never leaving the heat of your entrance. You sink fully down on him, his cock hitting the gooey spot inside of you that makes you liquefy. 

Sweat drips down his face, he’s so fucking tired already knowing his body will protest everything he’s put it through, but you’re worth it, the strangled noises you’re panting out will soothe his sore muscles come tomorrow. 

He nips at your jaw, licking the sheen of sweat on your skin and tasting the prickling peppermint. His nails rake against your back, you’re so fucking smooth, the harder you ride him, the deeper his nails press into your skin. 

Your body grows tense above him, his lips crush against yours wanting to gulp down all of your screams. You’re shattered by him again, his cock feels like the only thing tethering you down to this earth. He’s close, so fucking close. His orgasm has been waiting for you to pulse around his cock, your softness squeezing his last bit of resolve. 

Joel pulls out, immediately bemoaning the cruelty of not being able to cum inside you. One, two, three, pumps and he’s cumming against your stomach, your head angling down, wide eyes watching as the white ropes drip down your skin. 

Your ear finds his heart again, Joel knows it’s racing and you can hear it. He kisses your hair, humming a satisfied groan. Little does he know this is your favorite part of your shower visits, knowing that for just a short period of time you’ve made him happy. 

“I guess you’re going to need a new table.”

“I’ll be able to fix it, used to be a contractor.”

He surprises himself at the divulgence, reminding him to keep you at arms length, you’re too good for him. 

No need for that.

[sturnioz]

♯┆fully introducing. . . fratboy!chris .ᐟ

fratboy!chris is well-known around campus for being that guy. the one who hosts the best parties, the one who sells the best drugs for a good price, and the one who has got the best dick.

you haven't had the honour of meeting chris yet — although you've heard some interesting stories from all your girlfriends who have had some sort of encounter with him, mostly creaming around his cock and screaming his name in ecstasy.

you feel overwhelmed when you're dragged to one of your first frat parties hosted by the man himself, stepping over the sprawled-out drunken bodies on the lawn, pushing through sweaty crowds of people that dance to the rap music blasting from the speakers, and eyes blinded by the flashy lights decorating the interior.

the heat crawls up your neck when you witness your surroundings, some shoving tongues down each others throats with no care in the world, others smoking weed and lining up coke on any available surfaces.

the first time you see chris, he's lounging out on the couch, manspreading shamelessly. his arm is wrapped around some girl's shoulder, his hand gripping her jaw and drawing her in closer to place a small, circular pill on her awaiting tongue with a smirk.

he strokes her skin before patting her cheek, watching her throat bob as she swallows the pill. in return, she shoves a few dollar bills into the waistband of his pants and plants a glossy kiss on his lips to express her gratitude.

you probably should walk away and go find your girlfriends, not wanting to risk being some kind of creep watching everything unfold. but the embarrassment is already seeping in when chris' eyes flit over to you as he turns his head.

his eyebrow raises as he takes you in, his gaze lingering on the dress you're wearing — a little shorter than your usual attire and leaving little to no imagination, courtesy of your roommate who let you borrow it for the night.

chris pulls his arm from the girl's shoulder, adjusting the bandana on top of his head as he tilts his head to the side, and with a quick upturn of his chin, he gestures for you to come forward.

with your nerves swirling in the pit of your belly, a part of you wants to just turn and walk away to avoid getting pulled into whatever is unfolding. but the curiosity, the nagging sense of intrigue, forces you to make your way over to where chris is seated, unable to ignore the almost predatory once-over he gives you, his eyes trailing slowly up and down your body.

"i haven't seen you before," chris states, his voice low and smooth. he bends forward, reaching out to the table to grab his beer before leaning back. "what's your name?"

when you tell him your name, he hums and nods his head, repeating it to himself before taking a sip from his bottle. his eyes are still locked on you, making you fidget slightly in your spot beneath his intense gaze.

"come sit down," he pats the empty space beside him on the couch, an invitation that's more of a command than a request.

as you move to sit next to him on the cushion, you don't miss the way he carelessly shoos the other girl away from his side, watching as she rolls her eyes before taking her leave, leaving just the two of you alone on the couch.

chris shifts closer to you as he places his beer down, draping his arm across the back behind you. his fingers lightly graze over your bare shoulder where your dress leaves it exposed, and you can feel the heat radiating off of his body as he leans in, his voice barely above a whisper.

"'m chris," he introduces himself. you nod your head as chris' eyes drop down to your lips before meeting your gaze, a grin spreading across his face. "what d'you want, hm? need a lil' somethin' to take the edge off? make you feel good?"

"i..." your voice trails off, overthinking. you'll feel embarrassed if you don't buy anything after all this time, so you mention the first thing you're most familiar with. "weed."

"weed?" chris repeats, an airy laugh leaving him. "okay — sure, i got you."

he parts from you to raise his hips, digging his hand into his pockets to retrieve a ziplock bag of weed with a few pre-mades. he presents it to you in front of your face, swinging it back and forth almost mockingly and you go to reach for it until he snags it back.

"listen..." chris drawls, rolling his tongue across his cheek. "i usually charge fairly cheap for new buyers — to get them comin' back for more, y'know. but uh, but i'll let you have it for free if you let me hit."

you're stunned by his forwardness and confidence, but you're unable to deny the ache between your legs at his words — plus the numerous conversations you've listened in on about how good he is in bed, and you'd be lying if you weren't a little bit curious to see for yourself.

the journey up to his room is a blur, a mess of colours and flashing lights before you're spread out on his unkept bed, dress bunched up to your waist, a joint nestled between your two fingers as chris moves above you, his cock slipping in and out of you.

he's a lot bigger than you anticipated, and the stretch of him would've been far worse if it wasn't for the weed hazing your mind, allowing your body to feel floaty and relaxed.

"so fuckin' tight, doll — shit," chris curses through gritted teeth, arms hooked beneath your thighs as he watches your pussy grip around him, folds puffy and covered in spit. "feels good, yeah? haven't had good dick before? don't worry... i got you. gonna make you feel reaaaaal good."

his words causes your body to buzz, and your back arches against the bed with a whiney sounding moan, almost dropping the blunt to the bedsheets.

"fuckin' crazy if you think i'm lettin' this pretty pussy go... no — no you're mine now. should've let some other kid get to ya before me, cause i'm all you're gettin' now."

© sturnioz

[qwimchii]

𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 (𝘱𝘵 3) — 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘙𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺

𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘤𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯!𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯’𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴, 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘤 — 2.2k

𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦 — 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 —𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘺 & 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 <3, 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘥𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢, 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘴…

note: this is a little preface before pt 1 and before Simon went radio silent for like 2 months…

pt 1, pt 2

the only thing that scared Simon Riley was sleep.

he hated waking up in the middle of the night in an empty apartment more than anything, tangled awkwardly in the bedsheets and mind firing after a nightmare. he’d scramble for the knife in the drawer of his nightstand before realizing, the cool grip of the handle in his fingers, he was home.

home. he slowly put down the knife and ran his fingers through his hair. this didn’t feel like home.

he’d leave the cramped bedroom space to slide into the kitchen, too small for his big stature, as he threw a kettle on the stove to heat up some water. he’d do it to keep his mind busy, to distant himself from the distorted images in his nightmares, but the only thing that’d help was slurping down a scalding mug of tea even if it burnt his tongue.

even then, it didn’t really help. his tongue was numb to the pain anyways.

sometimes, he didn’t see anything in his sleep. just a pitch black, wracking silence and a choking sense of dread in his throat when he jolted awake. pure dread.

that’s all it was, he told himself, moving to the living room and past the front door. past the front door.

his eyes flitted to it from the couch, a worn burgundy red and flecked with chips in the wood.

there was always a second option to quelling the burning hours after nightmares. 

his neighbor.

he swallowed down the chamomile tea, practically slamming the empty mug onto the glass coffee table that rattled in protest. he leaned his elbows against his knees, pitching forward as he rubbed at his eyes. tired. he was so tired, and all he could think of was his neighbor’s pretty eyes. and that pretty, short dress that hung off the curve of her tight ass.

he screwed his eyes shut. the thoughts of his nightmares drifted further from him as he imagined what it’d be like to just reach out and grip the back of your thigh, snagging the hem of your dress so it was tight against your ass, so he could just stare at the flesh of it while you bent over to put a batch of cookies in the oven.

“fuck,” he whispered, rubbing over the stubble of his jaw. 

he could imagine the surprised look you’d give him over your shoulder, wide and innocent as he fondled your ass. adorable.

it was the same look you had given him when you dropped your cardboard box of things in the hallway, cheeks flushed a pink as you scrambled to throw everything back in. he’d had stayed stock still in the elevator, watching you all embarrassed and flustered and hushed little apologies leaving your lips. beneath the mask, he had almost smiled when he crouched down to help you.

it was bad enough to have these sorts of thoughts. his eyes flitted to the door again. it was bad enough that he was corralling you to the bar every other weekend, a low mumbled excuse it was some sort of payment after he had repaired the plumbing in your bathroom. it was bad enough that he was pretending to be your boyfriend, staving off the way you curled into his side when another man approached you, his hand at your waist, squeezing the plush flesh there.

worst of all, he couldn’t see himself stopping any time in the foreseeable future. he trained his eyes on the door.

fuck.

in a swift movement, he stood, snatching a mask from the box of them he kept handy beside the front door and snapping it over his ears before he twisted the front door of his apartment open. he strode down the hallway to a familiar door, pausing when he smelt something on the other side.

he hadn’t expected you to be awake. knocking, he barely had to wait a heartbeat before you cracked the door open, brows raising when you realized it was him. then, there was a shy smile on your face, and his breath went shallow.

he couldn’t help himself when his eyes flitted down to the threadbare shorts and the plush skin of your thighs, then up to the old tshirt that hugged your tits perfectly. 

all for him, he decided selfishly, giving you a barebones grumbled explanation that he was hungry when you let him into your apartment. the smell was stronger now—wafting towards him and thick with the familiar scent of something sweet baking.

“how often you bake?” he asked, nonchalant as you led him into the kitchen. it wasn’t the first time he had materialized at your door on a random night. he knew this wouldn’t be the last either.

“whenever i can’t sleep,” you said softly, yawning on queue as if to prove a point as you moved towards metal trays of parchment dotted with balls of sticky cookie dough on the kitchen counter.

he doesn’t remember what he had said after that—just remembers that he had accepted the glass of water you handed him and your demand for him to sit at the little kitchen table that he dwarfed, watching you with a heavy gaze. watching the bare skin on the back of your thighs and the way your tits strained against your shirt when you twisted around to look at him with that pretty smile to say something sweet.

you shouldn’t be so happy to see him, he thought as he shifted in the chair, fixing his pants around the swelling cock in his sweatpants. you shouldn’t trust him so easily either, he thought dreamily, observing how relaxed you were in his presence. comfortable.

he wondered how easy it would be to entice you into your bedroom, muffling any confused noises with his palm pressed to your mouth as he pat your ass into the direction of the bedroom. how sweet and pliable you would be for him if he coaxed you through it—he knew that you would be.

by the time you brought over the freshly baked batch of cookies, still steaming and sizzling on its iron tray, he was sporting a full, throbbing erection. the first couple of bites always tasted bitter with shame, his eyes trained on the cookie in his hand and avoiding the bubbly glimmer in your eyes before the sweetness of it melted any hesitation from his mind and he finished it in two bites. then a second cookie in three bites.

you would always smile at him over the table, leaning on your elbow and propping up your chin over your palm, tracing the flower designs of the table cloth as you spoke softly about anything and everything. he hung onto every word, grimacing at another burst of sweetness in his mouth with a big bite. 

he didn’t even really like sweets, but when your knee brushed against his under the table, he found himself picking up another cookie to prolong it all. once he’d finished the entire first batch of cookies, feeling sick and too full and satiated, you had rushed to bake another batch.

watching you quickly shape some more balls of dough in your hands, he realized with a twinge of shock that maybe you wanted to prolong it too.

by the time you had both eaten one more tray of cookies, and he was standing at the entrance of your door in the hallway, the pretty smile on your face looked forced. maybe sad, even, as he tilted his head down at you to observe the glossy sheen to your eyes. he didn’t want you crying because you were sad—wanted it for a different reason.

in a moment of impulse, he reached up to brush any flecks of misplaced hair from your messy updo, relishing the way you craned into his touch, lashes fluttering as your eyes drooped. fuck.

his thumb traced down your cheek to hold your chin, your lips parting sweetly and warm breath fanning over him. 

the twitch of his cock was enough to force him to take a step back. “‘night.”

he was so curt that it was almost rude when he ripped himself away from your apartment door, not taking a second to look back because his resolve waned to something small and pathetic as he walked mechanically to his own apartment. he tore the mask from his face, balling it in his fist before tossing it in the trash can, stripping himself of his shirt as he made his way to the bathroom.

immediately, he turned the knob of the shower all the way cold, the water icy cold under his touch when he tested the water. he shucked down his pants and stepped into the water, smothering a sound of discomfort as he tipped his head into the water, abdomen clenched tight as the water ran down his front and trickled off his swollen cock.

he waited one minute, then two, with his hands braced against the wall, waiting for his dick to go down. when it didn’t, he felt like breaking something, a cold fury in him as he crept a hand over his cock and squeezed tight.

he hated the throaty groan that flew from his lips, cock twitching in his grasp, relieved from the ounce of friction. easing his grip, he tugged a loose clutch of his fingers over the swollen appendage, amazed at the way it was so hot to the touch under the icy cold water. 

bracing his forearm against the tile wall, he fucked into his own hand, rolling his hips and twisting his hand at the flushed head of his cock, water running down his back a heady mix of confusing sensations that pushed him further towards a chasmic edge.

it wasn’t long before his thoughts were circling you again, your soft words and soft lips in his mind. soft skin, too, as he imagined what it’d be like to slide his cock between the plush of your breasts, sandwiching the head of his cock nicely as pearly liquid ran down his length. fuck, he could imagine you sticking out your tongue to lap at the slit with every thrust, big eyes doe eyes so innocent as you looked up at him.

he was so pent up. so pent up about you.

then, he was trying to imagine how tight your cunt would be around his cock, thrusting so deep that he hit your cervix before he would pull out, tapping the head of it against your sensitive clit, watching the way your squirmed and mewled in the sheets with a giddy feeling in his chest before burying himself to the hilt again. tight, hot, warm, wet, sucking him in perfectly.

would you beg him with that pretty voice of yours? a soft lilt to your words even when his hand was squeezing around your throat as he fucked you at a brutal pace? every wet smack of his pelvis against yours forcing more glittery tears out your eyes and wanton moans from your lips?

“please Simon,” you moaned, voice thick from the tears running down your cheeks, “feels so good—”

“shh, m’gonna let ya—” he choked around his words, “want you to come, pretty girl.” 

“close,” you slurred, eyes half-lidded as you looked down where his cock was stretching your pussy wide, sucking him in and clenching him in pulsing waves in time with the slam of his hips.

“let go f’me,” he commanded, eyes honed in on the swollen pearl between your folds and rubbing his thumb over it, fast and hard and loving the way your back arched with a sweet keen on your lips.

he watched with a fervor as you came with cute little shakes and shivers, face pinched and flushed with effort.

“tha’s it, sweet thing,” he groaned aloud, eyes rolling back into their sockets when the head of his cock brushed against the icy cold tile wall. “m’gonna come in that pretty, tight cunt—”

with a low groan, he came in ropes down the tile wall, abdominal muscles clenched tight as he rutted into his hand a couple more times before almost collapsing against the wall. panting, his stomach sank as he watched his cum slide down the surface of the wall, washed down into the drain between his feet.

it was barely a release—barely satiated the thrumming desire still sitting heavy in his stomach. ugly and thick and whispering your name.

“shit,” he panted, swallowing down the thick feeling in his throat as he rubbed over his face.

it was bad. worse than he thought it could be, as more images of your pretty face bloomed in his mind, swirling around and rooting there. rotting there.

it wouldn’t last long, he decided, washing up before stepping out the shower and tugging on his sweatpants again. looking at the mirror, he stared into his own eyes, finding a face of something strange and foreign staring back. he brushed his fingers over the scar on his upper lip, feeling over the divot in his flesh with a numbing coldness spreading through his chest. 

he’d be gone soon, and so would his ugly, muddled feelings once he left for work.

taglist: @ivybeeloved @babygirl-riley

[eupheme]

— mine, all mine

cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader

rated e - 4.2k

tags: jealous!cooper, sort-of alternate timeline (includes a fo4 character for fun), partners-with-benefits, mutual yearning, light angst, fingering, oral sex, one pussy slap, come marking

prompt: something where he's possessive and jealous. anything that would cause a man like The Ghoul to get jealous. He needs to remind everyone (including her) who she belongs to.

Cooper doesn’t take kindly to the man you picked up, even if he himself had made the deal to escort him to New Vegas. Not liking their old-world charm, that easy smile. Can’t be up to any good, and he hates that you might be falling for it.

It has him thinking that he just might have to remind you of a few things. Set you straight. Make sure you don’t forget who you belong to.

You can’t help the little laugh that bubbles in your throat, as you follow through the door at Cooper’s heels.

Seeking shelter for the night, after a long day on the road. Something different than the usual bounty. Escorting a man through the Mojave Wasteland, to New Vegas. Following another lead, they had said.

He had seemed capable enough, but didn’t know the area. His home was far to the east, not used to the harsh desert sun, the creatures that lurked here. A heavy bag of caps offered that neither one of you could say no to. Enough to buy a couple months worth of vials, and that meant more to you than anything.

“No shit. It really worked?” You glance back at the man from over your shoulder. The handle of your gun a familiar weight in your hand, as you check the hallways after your partner, “You really were him, costume and everything?”

“The Silver Shroud, in the flesh.” Nate flashes you a straight, white-toothed smile, “Calling cards and everything.”

Your head shakes in amazement. He was interesting - full of stories that didn’t seem possible to be true. Leader of the Minutemen. A retired veteran from before - or so he tells you.

Hard to believe such a thing could be true. It has you distracted - your boot catching on an overturned side table, a set of chairs.

A little yelp as you tilt off-balance. The Ghoul turning, a gloved hand stretching out out - but there’s already another at the small of your back, another at your elbow.

“Careful now, sugarbomb.” Nate huffs in your ear, steadying you until you catch your balance.

It has heat flaring in your cheeks - at his words and how you embarrassed yourself in front of both of them. Ignoring the hand, and winding yourself free, giving the mess of furniture a wide berth instead of stepping over as they did.

“Did you hear about him on the radio?” You ask Cooper instead, trying to change the subject.

Instead of an answer, the Ghoul gives you a rough grunt. Turning away from you, fingers tracing over the thick bullets lined up in his bandolier.

“Gonna sweep the second floor.” He rasps, “Stay put, alright?”

He must not have heard you, too busy concentrating on clearing the space.

You nod, a little flutter in your belly at his words as he leaves you. A hint of protection in them, layered deep. He hadn’t spoken much since he picked up this job. Eyes always watchful, fingers curled around the handle of his gun.

But you didn’t think there was anything too dangerous about Nate. He seemed nice - filling the space that you leave for him with his stories. The days traveling has been spent quickly, and you couldn’t help but feel sorry when you hear how he’d lost everything.

His wife, and his son. Waking up after it was all over - alone.

You wonder how he could press on, be so cheerful now. But you suppose someone could learn to shoulder a lot, after so many years had passed.

It has you shivering, in the old apartment. Thick brick walls - the radiators are long dead, the cold seeping through the cracks in the window panes.

“Hey.” You hear behind you. Nate’s shoulders flexing as he peels his leather bomber jacket off, fingers hooking under the collar as he holds it out to you.

The worn vault suit underneath clings tight to his chest. Silver threading through his dark hair, peppering his beard at the curve of his chin. Handsome, in an old-world way - something you haven’t been able to help noticing.

Not that you’re interested.

It’s only because he makes you think of him, a little. The same strange way of saying things. Phrases you don’t know from your time growing up in the wasteland.

And you can’t pretend you haven’t wondered, just a tiny bit. What Cooper might have been like, before.

Part of you had thought that would make them a little more friendly - that point of connection between them - but the Ghoul has been wrapped up in thorns for days now.

Distant even, but you think you get it. Suppose he thinks it’s safer, this way.

“Oh,” It takes you a second to accept his offering. Not used to generosity without a price. A soft sigh when you shrug it on - the fabric warmed by his body heat, “Thank you. Are you sure? It’s just, these old buildings-”

“This is almost warm compared to where I come from,” He smiles, shooting you a wink, “Least I can do, with what you’re doing for me.”

There’s a sweep of his eyes, as your hands slip through the sleeves - a considering tilt of his head, “Looks better on you, anyways.”

The compliment sends an uneasy ripple across your skin, a warm heat in your cheeks. His easy charm sets you on edge - not used to words and tones like his. Not knowing what to do with it - your eyes flicking towards the staircase.

There’s a pause, before he’s inhaling a breath.

“Listen. About your… associate,” Nate takes a step towards you, his voice lowering, “I don’t know if you owe him caps or something, but if you need to split, you’re welcome to come with me.”

It stuns you for a second. How he thinks you might need help, that you’re indebted.

“Oh!” You manage - that eye contact breaking, as you search for words, “I’m not. We’re actually, uh-”

But you don’t have a straight answer. Involved, perhaps. You wouldn’t say together, as much as you wished it would be. Companions is too soft a word for the path you travel together.

His word - associate - too formal.

“Really?” Nate’s voice tips up - just before his eyes dip down you and back up, in a quick circuit, “Huh. Good for him, then.”

The silence that lingers is stilted. His hands raise, with the lift of your brow.

“Didn’t mean any harm,” He adds, easily, “Just, if you change your mind… it’d be good to have you on the road with me.”

Leaving you then - letting the offer hang as he pokes around in the side rooms.

Another thing that you had found fascinating - the junk that he carries with him. Not just old tape but bottles of adhesive, cans of oil. Broken hot plates, all tucked into his bag.

Your head shakes, as you move deeper.

Winding your way into the kitchen, picking through broken cabinets - snatching up cans of cram. Ending up in a study, through another door.

Books spill from the shelves. There’s an old, deep desk bumped up near a wall, the upholstered chair toppled over next to it.

A few of the novels catch your eye - nose dipping to inhale the familiar, musty smell of the pages as you crouch. Thumbing through them, trying to pick one or two to keep.

Engrossed enough that you don’t hear the creak of boots on wood. The low jangle of spurs, until the door is closing shut behind you.

There’s a slow, upward pull of your eyes, until you see the way he looms over you - eyes narrowing. A hard set to his jaw, a hand that curls around your bicep as he tugs you up and onto your feet.

“Something wrong?” You ask, as you catch the pull of his brow bone, “With the house, is it safe?”

“House’s fine,” He grits. A hand tracing up the zipper of the jacket, curling around the collar.

The frown deepens, as his eyes drag over you, “You take this off the Vaultie?”

Your eyebrows raise, “I didn’t take it off him. He gave it to me because I was cold.”

He clicks his tongue at that, one side of his lip curling. Stepping into your space, until you’re bumping up against that desk.

“Can’t leave you alone for a goddamn minute, can I?” Cooper growls.

Fingers tracing up your sides until they’re fitting beneath the fabric at your shoulders, pushing the worn leather from them.

“What do you mean?” You frown - letting him. The evening chill isn’t so bad in here, the room tucked deeper into the house. No windows to let the evening air in.

“You know exactly what I mean, sugarbomb.” He drawls, acid in his tone, “Smoothie can’t keep his hands off you.”

The jacket pools on the desk, a flick of his wrist sending it to the floor. You don’t know why the Ghoul is so angry - not when he’s made it clear this something between you is just a diversion.

Nothing more than business mixing with pleasure.

“It’s not like that.” You protest, though your mind flickers back to before. Cheeks burning as you shift back, but follows - crowding you, “He’s looking for his son.”

It has your hip pressing against a desk, his own fitting against yours. Hands flattening against the top of the desk, as he leans over you.

“Lookin’ to get his dick wet, more like.” His words are a low growl, “‘Sides, is that all it takes you get you starry-eyed? Fella lookin’ for his kid?”

There’s something in the way he says it. A tick in his jaw, the way his tone pushes at you. Needling deep, as if there’s something more to what he’s saying.

Your arms prop on your hips, “I’m not starry-eyed-”

“Aren’t you?” His head cocks, “You gonna be keepin’ his bedroll warm tonight, sweetheart?”

There’s mockery in his tone. A curl of his lip and bared teeth, all while his eyes catalog each and every expression.

Your hands press against his chest then, scoffing. Yes, Nate had flirted with you. Said you could come with him, but surely that wasn’t the reason why.

Was it?

“That’s ridiculous,” It comes out flustered, unconvincing, “He was married, he’s not-”

The Ghoul shifts, his hands fitting against your hips. Pushing, until you’re sitting on top of the desk, thighs spread so he can fit between them. Distracting you, though his look is no less fierce.

“That don’t mean much, sweetie,” He growls, “Key word here is was. Not gonna keep him from tryin’, I’ll tell you that much.”

And you think you get it now. His raised hackles from the very beginning, when Nate’s hand curled around yours.

Maybe he’d burn right up, if he had heard your conversation. You wonder if he caught any - drifting up through the floorboards. Sending him right down to you, to stake his claim.

It has you softening. Fingers hooking around the thick leather of his belt, tugging him flush.

“He can try all he wants, cowboy,” You shrug, looking at him from beneath your lashes, “It’s not gonna sway me. Was just being nice because he was.”

“Nice.” He echos, as his hands slip up to your waist. Fingers curling in the folds of your shirt, rocking you against him, “That what you think you want, sweetheart?”

There’s the dip of his head, and your eyes are closing. But he just hovers, close enough that you can feel the exhale of his breath. A jerk of his head when your chin tips up, seeking him.

“You think nice is gonna take care of you the way I do?” His hand drifts up - fitting at the curve of your ribs. Thumb brushing at your breast, as you suck in a breath.

“What are you doing?” You breathe, as your eyes open. A shiver at how close he is, how his crotch presses right against the seam of your pants.

His answer is a low rasp.

“Remindin’ you of a couple o’ things.”

There’s a familiarity in the way his other hand dips down. Those hazel eyes are still on yours, as he gives the button on your pants a sharp tug. A soft slide of the zipper.

Your fingers curl, holding on tightly. Anticipation sings in you, melding with the sharp flutter of nerves.

“W-We can’t,” It comes out as a stammer - your concentration torn. “He’s still-”

The Ghoul’s hand leaves you, but it’s only so his teeth can sink into the tip of a leather glove - the jerk of his head to pull his hand free. Already coming back to you, giving the fabric of your pants a sharp tug downwards.

“‘s cute you think I give a shit.” He husks - his eyes dark, as he jerks his chin towards your hips.

They seem to move on their own. A hum of approval as they lift - so he can tug both layers down to your ankles, leaving them to tangle with your boots.

His hands are warm as they trace back up your bare thighs. Soothing the chill - forever warmed by the radiation that lingers in him. Your thighs spread wider without thought, though his fingers linger.

Tracing the soft skin, just where your thigh meets hip. Close enough that surely he can feel the heat that lingers there - the scrape of his nails against sensitive skin sending up goosebumps, as his tongue pinches between teeth.

Eyes caught on how easily you open for him. The way you clench in anticipation, shifting into his touch.

Another protesting whimper falls from your lips, the ghost of a smile as his eyes flip up to yours.

“You’re gonna tell me you don’t want this,” His thumb twitches against you, ghosting along your slit, “When I can see you practically droolin’ for me?”

He lifts his hand for emphasis, casually examining the sheen that coats the pad of his thumb. Head cocked as he waits - dragging it slowly along the flat of his tongue.

“I do want it,” It’s hushed, though no less needy.

His tongue peeks out again. Pinched between teeth, before ghosting across a lower lip - the taste of you lingering. You expect him to bend you over the table, or lay you back against it.

Instead, his fingers pluck the hat from his head. Dropping it onto yours, the brim distorting your view as he bends. Crouching - his left knee pressing into the floorboards, as he situates himself between your thighs.

It has your breath hitching. Another exploration of his fingers, thumb pressing against your folds. Tugging you open, examining you, just like he’d do for a piece of found scrap.

Heat floods through you. There’s no mistaking that he’s still calling every shot, even when he’s on his knees.

“Then answer my question.” His voice takes on a sharp edge, those eyes back on yours, “You think he could give you what you need?”

From here, you can see the pretty fan of his eyelashes. The flecks of gold and green in his brown eyes, each little pitted scar and shiny stretch of skin.

Your head shakes.

“No.” Your thighs inch wider - hips bucking into his touch, “Only you, Cooper.”

He growls at the sound of his name, his hand coming to cup against your cunt. Fingers insistent, where they nudge at your opening. The tips of two sinking into your heat, ripping a muffled gasp from you.

A low hum, when he feels how wet you are. How you wrap so warm and tightly around him - an obscene sound as he presses them deep.

Unable to hide how he affects you, not when the pace picks up, until the heel of his hand is grinding against your clit. Until you’re dripping against his palm.

Your moan is bitten back. Fingers curling around the edge of the desk, needing something to hold onto.

His pace is steady, but he’s just teasing. Fingers merely filling you, stretching you out. No careful curl - just bringing you to hover on a plateau, leaving you to clench around him with desperation.

“Please,” You whine.

Relief then, as his fingers hook. Dragging against your spongy inner wall, as you whimper in approval.

“Yeah?” He hums - watching how your brows pinch, when his fingers flex again, “Change your mind about gettin’ fucked, honey?”

Teeth clicking together with your bitten-back whine, needing to feel more than just the unhurried crook of his fingers.

“Yes. I need more,” Your hips lift with your answer - bucking into his touch, “Need your cock, Cooper. I’ve missed it-”

A dirty trick, to use his name again.

To beg, like this.

He knows it, a heartbeat lingering before his fingers begin to move with purpose. The tilt of his head, and then - his tongue is flattening against your slit. Giving you something else, instead.

You cry out before you remember where you are - your hand quick to press against your mouth to muffle the sound.

He groans at the taste of you, as it floods his tongue. A dark glitter in his eyes, you think he did this on purpose. Trying to pull those sounds from you.

This thought solidified as he begins to devour you. Licking you from clit to hole, dipping between his knuckles. Working the muscle in until he can feel you clench around it too, his own groan caught in his throat. Coming back up - lips wrapping around the tight bud as you gasp, nails biting into wood as you moan.

Ones you still try to hide. Your breath sharp through your nose, palm pressed flat against your mouth. But it doesn’t stop the squeak of the desk as your hips move. The sticky plunge of his fingers, the wet lap of his tongue.

Something molten pooling inside you, red-hot. He knows how much you can take, how the stretch of his fingers slips into something honey-sweet.

His head rears back, as his eyes open. A sharp click of his tongue, before his left hand curls like a vice around your wrist. Capturing the other - fingers spreading wide as he pins them against your belly.

A smirk that grows wider - more sinister - when you realize you won’t be able to hide your sounds any longer. When all you can do is accept what he gives you.

“Oh, don’t hold back, sweetheart.” He coos - a rough breath, as he sees your jaw grit, eyes screwing shut, “Want him to hear just what I’m doin to you.”

A tilt of his head - slow in the way he returns to you. A pointed thrust of his fingers, another one slipping into you. Tongue flicking lazily, before spit is pooling on his tongue.

Pressing his fingers deep, as it falls from his lips. Dripping down your slit, before he’s sucking on your clit again.

The keen that pulls from you is loud. Drawn-out, your breath hissed through your teeth.

He grins into your cunt, the words murmured against your skin, “That’s more like it. Atta girl.”

Taking, as he gives.

Guilt lingers in you - thinking about Nate, wandering in the house. Hearing the muted moans and cries as you’re devoured against the desk. It has your lips pressing harder together, though it does nothing to mute the pleasure that winds higher and higher.

But he notices. Of course he does - fingers slipping free, curling against your clit before he’s pinching it between his fingertips. Teeth nipping at your inner thighs, marks blooming against your skin.

Another cry loosens, as your hips jerk.

“Now I know you want my cock, sweetheart. Asked for it so nicely, after all,” He husks, as his head tips up, “But you’re not gettin’ it till later.”

A threat and a promise, layered in the heavy pant of his breath.

“Plan on takin’ you by the fire. From three feet away, if I have to,” His smile is near-feral, “Let him hear how pretty your pussy sounds taking me. Knowin’ he can’t touch.”

You moan at his words. At the pet of his fingers - each breath short, growing louder as he brings you close to the edge. Keyed up enough over the past few days - leaving you desperate.

And you think that maybe - he just might be as well. It’s there in the way his shoulders curl in. The spread and rock of his own thighs, where you can see the tent of his hard cock.

That desire to make you come tipping into something that feels like need.

“You know why he can’t?” He coaxes, his words a slow drawl.

His fingers flattening when you’re slow to answer - pleasure-drunk, landing a harsh tap against your cunt that has you gasping in shock.

“Because…” You search for the words, grasping at their hazy shapes, “Because I’m yours.”

It comes so easily, the things you’ve thought but never said.

His knees shift, hips tilting on their own. A rough sound in his throat, as he watches how your lips form the words.

“That’s right,” Cooper coos, “Good fuckin’ girl. Knowing who she belongs to.”

It does something to you. That desire blooming into something tangible, racing from your thoughts to the needy throb of your clit.

He can hear the change in your breath. How it pitches high, drawn out. No longer holding it back - unable to, as your vision starts to go hazy.

“You liked that, sweetheart? Knowin’ that you’re owned?” He rasps, “Fuckin’ close, aren’t you. Gonna come?”

“Yes,” You chant, “Make me come. Cooper, please-”

His hand leaves your wrists - your palms curling into his jacket as he loosens his own belt. Fist wrapping around his cock as his tongue replaces the swirl of his fingers.

A whine - loud, in the quiet room - when those three fingers sink deep again, filling you. Only a few deep plunges of of his fingers before your breath is catching, eyes going wide.

The cry catches in your throat, coming out ragged. Unmistakable for anything else, as your pussy tightens around him - that thudding beat that starts low, rippling through you.

Pulsing against his tongue. Stealing your strength, leaving you boneless as your fingers anchor themselves against his shoulders.

He groans into your cunt, as he feels you gush against his palm. The way he can taste your release as it leaks against his knuckles, his tongue dipping down to taste.

Greedy again, with his gaze. Fixed on how wrecked you are - rumpled clothes, how you’re still speared on his fingers, thighs slick with need.

No one else can ruin you so thoroughly. You both know it - it’s enough that he lets go, chasing his own end. An unsteady push to his feet, as his fingers slip free.

His other hand flattening against your abdomen, pushing you back against the desk. A messy twist of his fist, seeing the gape his fingers left behind - that tension twisting, about to snap in his own belly.

His cock is coated in your release, when he comes. A feral snarl as his fist jerks - harkening back to your first few nights together. Back when he held back from spilling inside you, the vials too precious to spend on a stranger.

Fingers twitching against your belly, keeping you pinned as his own moan slips through his teeth. A needy buck of his hips into the tight curl of his hand, a cruel mockery of where he imagines it buried. But it’s enough - another rough sound before ropes of his spend arc across your mound.

Warm against your skin, as he covers you. Dripping down against your slit when he angles himself, making a mess of your slick pussy.

It already has anticipation simmering, deep inside. Unsure if he was being serious about later - but the thought of him taking you nice and slow, drawing it out - you might not be able to ever look Nate in the eye, but christ, it could be worth it.

Though something hangs heavy, as he comes back down. His head lowers from where it tipped back in pleasure. The slow drag of the tip of a finger through his release, glossy against your skin, before he finds the hem of your underwear. Tugging it back into place as you whine in protest.

“Hush, now.” He coos - stroking you over the thin fabric. Seeing how his come seeps in. A teasing circle against your clit, before his palm presses flush. Smearing himself against your cunt.

Staking a claim, you think. He’s always let you clean up before. And this isn’t a punishment, though the wait will be torture.

Fingers smooth the faded fabric when he’s content, his radiation-reddened fingers fitting against the soft curves of your hips.

And, maybe now you understand.

“I’m not going to leave you, you know.”

It’s quiet, breathed out as you gaze up at him.

He almost flinches. A different kind of shudder that runs through him, fingers pinching hard where they dent your flesh.

“You should,” His jaw grits. Voice low, the words coming out hoarse, “If you had any sense.”

But you both know you have none. Not when it comes to him.

Your hands fit in his, as he tugs you off the table. The snug fit of your pants as you tug them back into place, already feeling how he sticks against your skin.

Thoroughly marked. Unable to help the clench as you think about later - missing the fullness of his fingers already. A wobble to your legs - a hazy remnant from your orgasm - as you right yourself, fitting everything back into its place. Before stooping, to grab the jacket off the floor.

Cooper’s hand reaches out - fingers beckoning. His own duster already shrugging off his shoulders. Bundled up, as he holds it aloft.

“You get cold again, you tell me.”

It’s gruff. An offering, with the extension of his hand. Swapping the bomber jacket for his. The worn fabric enveloping you as you tug it on, that greedy look seeping back as he takes in how you look in his things.

A little nod, before he’s turning - making for the door.

Leaving you to follow behind, hiding your smile.

this started a couple different ways (flirting with a bounty or with a bartender) but I thought it would be interesting to have Cooper in a situation with a genuinely good guy (Nate is the MMC in FO4 if you choose his route!) because that would surely and truly drive him nuts (rip what a couple to join up with) 💖 thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed!

edit: the companion fic is here - this scenario with them picking up Nora and Reader being the jealous one!

[ellecdc]

hi mother i love ur writing !!! i was just wondering if you could write something with any ship that has james in it, where they're proud of reader bc she cleaned her room? i have really bad adhd and im cleaning it rn and im pretty proud of myself :) anyways its okay if not ! i love youuu !!!

thanks for your request, lovie (and congrats on cleaning your room!!!) here's a little baby blurb for you <3

marauders x roommate!reader who cleaned her room [500 words]

CW: platonic but could be read as something else, fem!reader, hints at non-platonic feelings but nothing outward

“One second, I’ll ask.” James says before he’s knocking on your bedroom door.

You had hardly raised your head to answer before he was pushing open the door door, his knock unanswered.

“Hey angel! Sirius and Remus are wondering if we want them to pick up- OH MY GOD!” He cut himself off, shouting as he looked around your room in…horror?

No, he was looking around your room in shock.

“What!?” You could hear Sirius shout from the other end of the line; a conversation that James had seemingly abandoned as he stared around your space. 

“What did you do?” James asked you breathlessly; finally moving his disbelieving stare from your belongings to yourself.

You suddenly felt horribly aware of yourself. You’d been cleaning all day; you had moved every piece of furniture and hoovered underneath and behind them, you had sorted out your closet and dresser, and you had finally organised the things that you had stashed under your bed to ‘deal with later’.

All this to say: you were sweaty, likely dirty, and you were sure your hair was in a right state.

“James what the hell is going on!? Is everything okay!?” Sirius’ muffled voice shouted from James’ phone. 

“James, you’re giving Sirius a fright.” You chided instead of drawing more attention to yourself.

James seemed to remember himself at that and brought the phone back up to his ear. “Sorry, sorry. What was that, Pads?”

Sirius’ response was quieter than before, but you could tell by the tone of his voice that he was still worked up.

“No, no. Sorry, everyone is fine. It’s just…bloody hell Pads, she cleaned her room!”

Another hot flash of embarrassment surged through you.

“It wasn’t that bad.” You mumbled as you folded your last shirt.

“Of course it wasn’t, angel. That’s not what I meant.” James offered; significantly softening at your worried expression. “I just know this had been on your list for a long while, and I also know how fucking hard this must have been.”

You hardly had a moment to wave him off before you heard Sirius shout “we want to see!” from the other end of the line.

Protests meeting deaf ears - because it apparently didn’t matter that they’d be home in a measly half hour - James was quickly turning the call into a facetime and pointing the camera around your room.

“Oh my god!” Sirius echoed James’ earlier sentiments. 

“It looks great, dovey!” Remus chimed in. “You must have been in there all day!”

“It looks amazing.” James agreed quickly, bending over to survey under your bed. “Think you can do mine next?”

“Prongs!” Remus was quick to admonish. “No, she’s done quite enough for the day I’d say.”

“Forget I asked anything Prongs; we are getting pizza and we are celebrating.” Sirius decided. 

“We don’t need to celebrate the fact that I cleaned my room, you sods.” You scolded.

“Oi.” Sirius called with faux severity. “Let us celebrate our sweet girl if we so please.”

“We should get a cake, too.” You heard him add as he and James ended the call.

“It looks really good, angel.” James repeated; no longer looking around your room in awe, but rather at you with a peculiarly soft expression. 

“Thank you Jamie.” 

James spent a moment longer smiling at you before he was turning to leave your room. “I’ll set up the living room for us. What movie do you want to watch? Don’t answer that; I already know!”

[kymerawrites]

"You're such a bloody drama queen," Simon grumbled under his breath, smoking a cigarette as he watched her pace back and forth. He didn't move an inch from his spot on the couch, arms crossed over his chest. It was always like this with her; they argue, they make up, they argue again. It was a vicious cycle they couldn't seem to break free from. He took a drag of his cigarette before blowing out a stream of smoke, eyes still locked on her

"Can't you just sit still for a bloody second?" Simon snapped, his irritation getting the better of him. "You're giving me a damn headache with all that walking around." He tapped his fingers impatiently on the armrest, his gaze following her every movement. He couldn't help but feel frustrated by her constant need for motion, like a caged animal.

"I could if you'd stop being such a controlling arsehole," she shot back, stopping in her tracks to glare at him. "Sorry if my pacing bothers you, but I have the right to move around in my own home." She crossed her arms, her defiant stance mirroring his.

"Your home?" Simon echoed, a mocking edge to his voice. He snorted, extinguishing his cigarette in the ash tray. "Last I checked, we share this apartment. And believe me, I didn't ask for a fidgety partner who can't sit still for two seconds."

“God for fuck sakes Simon, you make me pace this way. Can’t you see that?!” I said irritated

He rolled his eyes, clearly unperturbed by her retort. "Oh, and it's all my fault that you're pacing around like a maniac?" He leaned back on the couch, his gaze sharpening. "Maybe, just maybe, you should try taking some responsibility for your own actions instead of blaming everything on me. Ever thought of that?"

I huffed in annoyance, not backing down from his gaze. "And maybe you should stop making me so bloody irritated that I can't stand still! You're always bossing me around, like I'm some sort of property and not a person with my own thoughts and feelings."

He stood up abruptly, his tall frame towering over her. "You know damn well that's not true," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I don't treat you like a bloody object. I care about you, even if you can't see it. And if I come off as controlling sometimes, it's because I want to bloody protect you."

“Oh no, it’s you and your fucking lieutenant, commander whatever the fuck you are act in my space.” I scoffed

His eyes narrowed at her sarcastic remark. "Watch your bloody tongue," he warned, his tone more menacing than before. "You know damn well what I do for a living, and I don't appreciate your tone. But while we're on the subject, you could learn a thing or two about respecting your partner. Maybe if you weren't such a bloody pain in the arse all the time, I wouldn't have to step in and take charge."

That comment hit me, just a little to make me shift from mad to confused “so, if I’m such a pain to you, such a..liability why not leave me?”

He gritted his teeth, his frustration mounting. "Because goddamn it, I care about you," he snapped. "Despite all your attitude and stubbornness, I can't just walk away. Believe me, I've bloody tried. But deep down, I know I can't let you go. Even if you drive me mad with all your whining and dramatics."

I turned around not to face him “you can also just say you love me.”

He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "Bloody hell," he muttered under his breath. He walked closer to her, his movements slow and deliberate. "I do love you, alright? But love doesn't make this any easier. It complicates everything. Because even though I love you, you still piss me off like no one else can, and it drives me bloody insane."

He grabbed my waist and hugged me from behind I just smirked “and yet I think you love all the sass and drama I give you don’t you?”

He let out a scoff, his fingers digging into her waist. "Bloody hell, you know me too well," he muttered. "Yes, there's something infuriatingly addicting about your damn attitude and all the drama you bring into my life." He buried his face in her neck, inhaling her scent.

He chuckled softly against her skin, his breath warm and tickling. "Bloody hell, you drive me wild with it. Part of me wants to strangle you, and the other part..." He trailed off, his hand roaming higher up her body, tracing her curves.

“Finish that sentence si..” I whispered

He nipped at her earlobe, his voice low and gravelly. "And the other part wants to do things that I can't even say in public." He spun her around to face him, his gaze dark and intense. "You have no idea the effect you have on me, how you make me feel. It's maddening, it's intoxicating and it's all your damn fault."

He pushed her against the wall, his body pressing against hers. His hands gripped her wrists, pinning them above her head. "You know what else is maddening?" he growled, his face mere inches away from hers. "How bloody irresistible you are when you're all defiant and stubborn like this. It's like you're begging for me to put you in your place."

He dipped his head, his lips brushing against her neck, leaving a trail of warm, open-mouthed kisses. "And the worse part is, you know damn well you have me wrapped around your little finger. Even when you're infuriating me, I can't get you out of my head." He nipped at her skin, his teeth grazing her sensitive spots.

He dipped his head, his lips brushing against her neck, leaving a trail of warm, open-mouthed kisses. "And the worse part is, you know damn well you have me wrapped around your little finger. Even when you're infuriating me, I can't get you out of my head." He nipped at her skin, his teeth grazing her sensitive spots.

He shifted his body, pressing his thigh between her legs. "You push my buttons on purpose, just so you can get a reaction out of me. And bloody hell, you always get the reaction you want." He pinned her even tighter against the wall, trapping her in his embrace.

His lips found hers in a hard, possessive kiss. He dominated the kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth, claiming her in a way that was both rough and passionate. He pushed his body flush against hers, his hands roaming down to grip her thighs, lifting her up against the wall.

“You’re too good for me si..” I laughed as he lifted my legs on the wall forcing me to embrace them around his waist

He grunted with the effort, his muscles straining as he pressed her against the wall. "Bloody hell, you're a menace," he growled, his lips finding her neck again, sucking and nibbling on her sensitive skin. "Bloody menace with your damn legs wrapped around me like this. Drives me wild to have you like this, all vulnerable and pliable in my arms."

He ground his hips into hers, his arousal evident against her core. "And you're damn wrong about that. I'm not too good for you. I'm just bloody addicted to the way you make me feel, like you're a poison I can't get enough of."

I rolled my eyes “just kiss me already lovebird.” I smiled

He chuckled at her cheeky remark, his eyes dark and intense. "Bloody smartass," he murmured, before capturing her lips in another fierce kiss. He devoured her, his tongue delving into her mouth and dominating the kiss. The kiss was rough and passionate, full of pent-up desire and frustration.

And ofcourse they kissed and made up just for the cycle to continue

[ya-zz]

Hello, if you're taking requests currently could I request the overwatch guys: Ramatra, Genji, Hanzo, Magua, Life Weaver, Cassidy and Lúcio taking care of a fem reader on her time of the month if you write for any of them?

-sincerely a reader suffering cramps <3

Sorry this took awhile to get to, but hopefully this will suffice 💜 I’m also doing this from my phone so apologies if formatting is off

RAMATTRA

Like most arrogant omnics, he didn’t care at first.

It was just another weak, human thing that didn’t concern him.

But when it came down to you, he softened up and offered to help when he could.

He knows your cycle and everything that comes with it.

He’s done his research, wanting to make the days go by quickly and comfortable for you.

The few days before when your mood is low and you feel lethargic, Ramattra would bundle you up in a blanket and put your favourite movie on.

Everything was prepared afterwards. Hot water bottle for the cramps, your favourite snacks and drink on standby for when you needed them.

If you needed space, he’d oblige… sort of. He’d be in the same room, but distance himself from you.

If you needed more products, he’d get them for you, already knowing which were your preferred coverage.

Ramattra would snuggle up to you at night and warm himself up so you were comfortable.

Should you happen to leak, he’d clean up, no questions asked.

He’d help you through it all, despite the mood swings putting him on edge sometimes.

GENJI

He’s had his fair share of mood swings with the females he had dated, but he was more than happy to make sure you were okay during your time of the month.

Genji didn’t rely on dates, he relied on your mood.

He was quick with making sure you were comfortable before moving away from you to give you space.

When your arms would open up to him, he would scurry over and hold you until you told him to let go.

You were, in theory, in charge.

If you needed something, food, water, products, he’d get them in a heart beat.

Movie nights were a must, Genji swore by them and while they did help you forget about the pain, it was nice to be close to him.

Your favourite takeout would be ordered for the perfect night in.

He would also, somehow, get you out of the house for a little while. A small walk for some fresh air helped immensely on the bad days.

The ninja stayed with you as much as you would allow him to, and yes, he did tease you about your mood swings when it was all over.

HANZO

Calendars were made for a reason, and alongside birthdates and events, a small dot to signify the start of your period was on there.

He’d put it in his phone too, just in case he was away.

If it happened to be irregular, he’d rely on your mood, just like his brother would.

Hanzo would grow softer, hands massaging your shoulders when you sat with him.

The bathroom would always be fully stocked too, never seeming to run out of your products.

The archer had reserved a cupboard in the kitchen for your favourite snacks for this exact moment, bringing you what you needed whenever you asked.

Hot water bottles were filled when required, and when they eventually grow warm, Hanzo would gently rub his own hands over the pain.

Hanzo would do anything you asked of him, even if it was as simple as turning the light off because you were in the perfect position in bed.

MAUGA

First time writing anything Mauga so shhh

He’s staying with you throughout it all.

Protest as much as you want, he ain’t leaving.

Hot water bottle?? Not needed, his hands are hot enough.

He’d let you lay on him at all hours of the day if you wanted.

His hand would soothe over your head when you’re in pain and teary eyed from how bad it is.

He’d tease you over your mood swings, wanting to get a rise out of you because you look “so damn cute.”

Mauga would do anything to take your mind off of it all.

You name it, he’d do it.

He loves you that much he’d kill for you.

He’s one for overbuying snacks and drinks like this would last longer than a month so there’s always extra food laying around for later.

He’s not one to shy away from buying products should you need them, either.

So long as you’re comfortable with him, he’s happy to be there with you through it all.

LIFEWEAVER

He’s always prepared.

Doesn’t matter if it’s on time or irregular, he’s there with everything you need.

Extra blankets and pillows were pulled out so you were comfy in bed or on the sofa.

Products were always fully stocked in the bathroom and he’d even carry some whenever you went out just in case.

He’d always stay composed when your mood changed quickly, instantly bringing you back to a calm state of mind.

He was careful and gentle, not wanting to make it worse for you.

Niran would ask to cuddle with you and wouldn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you the moment you let him.

Soft hands would rub against the sore and aching parts of your body, easing the tension that had built up.

When he couldn’t be around, he’d leave small notes around the apartment that’d make you smile.

Coming home, he always had a little bag of snacks he bought on the walk back for you.

Just a little something to bring your mood up.

He’d spoil you too, small gifts and flowers that’d take up the table.

Niran would be soft and supportive, giving you exactly what you want whenever you needed it.

CASSIDY

Don’t expect this cowboy to let go of you anytime soon.

If you push him away, he’ll be the one pouting.

He’ll respect your wishes, of course, but he’d mope.

He'd forget occasionally, but would always make it up to you as quick as he could.

Cassidy would hold you close, hand soothing over your stomach in an attempt to calm the pain.

He'd be affectionate, more so than ever, it makes you question him each time, but he'd shut you up with kisses.

The cowboy would wrap you up in his cowl, his scent easing all worries for you.

No matter how snarky you would get, he always found it fun to verbally battle you.

Cassidy would let you lay in bed for as long as it happened, bringing you everything you requested.

He was happy to be your little servant for a few days, always laughing and joking about the circumstances, but never belittling you over something you couldn't control.

He would always reassure you about how much he loves you when you're teary eyed and doubtful.

LUCIO

He'd be the type to carry products in his bag just in case it started whilst you were out with him.

Always has spares on hand, each depending on the flow for that month.

If it became painful, he'd give you his homemade hot chocolate and a hot water bottle to put on your abdomen.

Lucio would put on your favourite playlist and let it loop until you got sick of it.

He'd make sure your favourite drink was prepared for you, chilled or hot, whatever you needed, he'd get it ready for you.

Snacks? He'd go shopping right then and there and pick up everything on the list you had given him.

He's a softie, pulling you close in bed and cuddling up close to you.

Blankets upon blankets would cover you both as he'd hum a tune to help you sleep.

If your mood plummets, he would sit with you until you calmed down, not wanting to leave you.

His hand would hold yours until contact would break, but he'd come back the moment he could.

Anything for his brest friend and partner.

[fazedlight]

Leaning In

Everything felt strange.

It felt strange to see sunlight again. To walk into her apartment. To hug Alex again, hug Lena, hug the rest of the superfriends. To hear cars roll by and planes overhead and people everywhere. 

Compared to the phantom zone, everything was strange.

Wires were crossed, Kara thought, looking over at Lena with an overwhelming sense of guilt at what she had almost done, days before. Lena sat quietly on Kara's couch with a glass of wine, eyeing Kara from across the coffee table where Brainy and Alex were finishing out their game of Monopoly.

It had only been four days since her return, and Alex hadn’t given her a moment of solitude, so overjoyed to finally have her sister back. And Kara was glad for the noise, for the life that was back in her life with all the superfriends, chatter and colors and hugs instead of the desolate wasteland of the phantom zone. 

But in that time, Kara and Lena hadn’t had a moment alone together, leaving a sinking pit in Kara’s stomach when she thought about when she’d next have a real conversation with the Luthor. Does she realize?, Kara thought, Does she know I almost tried to kiss her?

The phantom zone breaks people. It’s why Krypton used it as a prison, why it became such an effective deterrent. Her brain wasn’t normal when she returned. She normally knew better. Knew better than to try to kiss her best friend. But in her traumatized and mostly isolated state, Kara had briefly forgotten the sort of decorum required with normal living - that her months of wishing she were home in Lena’s arms didn’t mean that her daydreams had become real.

Brainy finally won the game of Monopoly - proud that he had been able to knock Lena out of the game early, virtually guaranteeing his victory - and the superfriends finally began packing up to go home. Alex pulled Kara into a tight hug, planning on giving the kryptonian some space for the night, the first where Kara would sleep in her own bed instead of the Tower. “Coffee tomorrow morning?” Alex asked adamantly, Kara quickly agreeing.

One by one, the superfriends made their way out the door - until only Lena remained, still sitting on the couch, though she had set down the glass of wine. Kara turned awkwardly from her place by her kitchen island, watching the Luthor still watching her.

Slowly, Lena rose from her seat, making her way over to Kara. “Can we talk?” she asked.

Kara nodded, glancing nervously to the side. She knows. “I’m sorry,” Kara murmured. “When I came back, I- I wasn’t thinking.”

Lena’s brow furrowed in confusion. “You don’t need to be sorry, Kara.”

Kara tilted her head back up at Lena. “Are we- are we talking about the same thing?”

“Aren’t we?” Lena said quietly.

Kara swallowed. Just lay the cards on the table, she thought to herself. “I’m talking about - I tried to kiss you. Before I remembered you wouldn’t want it. I mean, even if you did-” Kara cut herself off, glancing to the floor. Rao, I should’ve thought through this more instead of babbling…

But to her surprise, she heard Lena step towards her, until the brunette was close enough to clasp onto Kara’s hand. Kara glanced up again, taking in Lena’s demure expression. “Even if I did?” Lena asked.

Kara’s eyes flitted between Lena’s, noting how her heart was beating faster, how there was a light blush crossing her face. Oh, Kara thought, feeling a small burn on her own cheeks as she realized what was happening. “Even if you did,” Kara said shyly, “I wouldn’t want our first kiss to be in front of everyone else.”

Lena smiled softly, giving Kara’s hand a gentle squeeze. “We’re alone now,” she said. 

Kara smiled back. “We are,” she said warmly, pausing for one more moment to take in Lena’s face. Lena tilted her head, and Kara leaned towards her.

And this time, she didn’t stop.

[briefinquiries]

Tyler Owens x Reader: Hell or High Water

Request: Anonymous said, “i love your writing so much !!!! i was wondering if i could request your take on the twisters scene towards the end when tyler’s leg gets stuck under the debris in the town square ?? like reader is the one running over to him completely worried & stressed because her man is hurt "

Word count: 4.7k

Warnings: tornado, blood, injury mention

A/N: I'm so sorry I've been posting so infrequently, but here's a little tyler angst / hurt / comfort to brighten your sunday (did not proof read so pls don't hold me responsible for the inevitable mistakes). Anyway, comments / replies are so appreciated, enjoy!!

The storm rolls in fast. One minute, you and Tyler are running through the streets of El Reno, trying to help by corralling people to safety, and the next, you’re watching as the storm, which has nearly tripled in size, barrels towards you and everyone you’ve ever cared about. 

Tyler’s screaming your name– he wants you to move. But it’s like what they say about car crashes– no matter how frightening, you can’t seem to look away from the monstrosity of a storm. The dark clouds are swirling fiercely, destroying everything in their wake. The rain picks up– fat drops fall, soaking your clothes. The tornado is spinning faster and faster, moving closer and closer. 

It’s mesmerizing– in a terrifying, deadly sort of way. 

The winds are whipping wildly, blowing debris all over the place. Before you can react, a large chunk of vinyl siding flies straight towards you. The corner of it nicks your temple, you feel the skin slice open with a sharp tear, followed by the sensation of warm liquid trickling down your face. 

“Shit!” you gasp, tucking your face into your elbow moments too late.

Another one whips by before you start to back pedal. 

You spin around just in time to see an entire fucking car drop from the sky in the space between you and Tyler. It lands on its back bumper before starting to fall backwards.  

“Tyler!” you scream, knowing he probably can’t hear above the roaring winds. 

With one more gust, the car begins to fall, sending up a wild cloud of dust in its wake. 

As soon as you’re done shielding your eyes from it, you run towards the vehicle– now resting upside down on its crushed roof. 

“Tyler!” you cry. 

This time, you hear a faint groan in response. You follow the sound until you see Tyler laying flat on his back– one leg crushed underneath the hood of the car and a pile of broken chunks of pavement. 

He’s attempting (and failing) to push it off from himself. 

“Tyler,” you say again– his name seemingly the only word your lips are able to form. This time, he hears you above the chaos of everything else. His eyes meet yours– except, instead of their usual calm, they’re filled with terror.  

“You gotta get out of here–” he says. “Go–”

But you’re already running towards him. You know you can’t lift a fucking car– but some delusional part of you hopes that adrenaline might give you momentary super strength or fucking something to help you lift this thing. You try to grip the front bumper, but it’s wet from the rain. Your hands slip and slide no matter how hard you focus. 

“Just hang on,” you plead. 

The car’s tilted right over his leg. You try again– lifting as hard as you can. But even with a good grip, you know it’s too heavy.

The car doesn’t budge. 

“You need to go–” he says. 

But you ignore him– all you can focus on is moving the damn car… even slightly would do– just enough so that he could slide his leg out. 

“Baby,” Tyler’s using his gentle voice– the one he uses when he wants you to butter you up so you do as he says. But you can’t– 

“Y/N, you have to leave–”  

“Shut up!” you scream, eyes blurring as tears and rain both start to cloud your vision. 

“Please,” Tyler says. His hand grips your wrist and you finally look at him desperately. “Please, you have to get inside.”

“I’m not leaving you,” you sob, the thought too unimaginable to even consider. “I’m not going anywhere without you!” 

Using every single ounce of strength left in your body, you lift again. And to your absolute shock, the car starts to lift– except… it isn’t you moving the damn thing. It’s the winds picking up. 

But it doesn’t matter what makes it move, as soon as Tyler feels the weight start to lift from his leg he slides out from under the car and scoots backwards against the pavement. 

Once he’d free, you dare to glance up at the sky– the storm is no longer coming. 

It’s here.

“C’mon,” you say, reaching for Tyler to help him to his feet. “Are you okay?”

Tyler nods– and willingly takes your hand as he gets to his feet. You’re surprised, but relieved, that he’s moving okay as the two of you hurry across the street towards the school that people had started taking cover in. 

“Where–” you pant as soon as you’re through the front doors. But neither you or Tyler had ever been to this school– so how were you supposed to know where to go? 

“Basement,” Tyler pants, nodding towards the nearest staircase. 

With your hand still clutching his, you let him guide you towards the double doors. As soon as you push it open, you see an array of other people huddled in the hall. 

“C’mon,” Tyler motions towards the stairs. “Go down– into the basement.”

You and him lead the way– moving as fast as you can into the first classroom on the basement level. It’s some sort of recreational room with open spaces and only a few desks scattered around the room. 

“Get down,” Tyler says. “Against the wall.” He moves his hand to your waist and helps lower you to the ground where you quickly lay flat on the ground. 

“Cover your head,” he instructs.  

“Tyler–” you call for him, but after only a moment, you feel the warmth of his body beside you, and then an arm cradling your head. He’s shielding your body with his own– 

And you don’t even have time to argue with it, because the building starts to shake. 

“Hang on,” he says in your ear. “I got you, we’re okay.”

The winds rip through the school, causing the building to tremble fiercely. Pieces of the ceiling start to fall around you– chunks of debris crashing to the floor. 

You’re pretty sure you scream at one point, but you can’t hear it above the roars of the wind. All you can do is stay low, just like Tyler told you to do, and focus on the way his weight feels on top of you. 

It’s enough to get you through it. Because within a few minutes, the winds die down and you can finally hear your breath as you pant for air. 

But even above your own gasp, you hear someone’s muffled voice murmuring something. You dare to open your eyes just as Tyler’s weight lifts off from you. The murmuring continues– this time, it’s accompanied by a gentle hand clutching your elbow. 

It’s Tyler, you remind yourself. Tyler’s here. Tyler’s safe. You both are. 

You let him help you to your feet. And when you finally get your bearings enough to look around, everyone else seems unharmed. People have cuts and bruises– but nothing that looks imminently life threatening. 

Suddenly, a hand cups your face, gently turning your head in the direction of Tyler. Concerned, watery eyes meet yours. Tyler’s studying you– making sure you’re not broken beyond repair. Finally, his voice comes into focus. 

“Y’alright?” he asks gently.

“I’m okay,” you manage to croak. “I’m okay–”

You wince as his thumb trails along the cut on your temple. “You’re hurt… We gotta get this looked at–”

Absent-mindedly, you reach your hand to your temple and touch where you’d been nicked. But maybe sliced was a better term– Tyler’s right, it’s bleeding steadily. When you pull your fingers away, they’re coated in blood.  

Suddenly dizzy, you move your arm and grip his shoulder, squeezing gently as if to check if he was really in front of you. 

“You’re okay. We’re okay. C’mon.”

“What about the others?” you pant. 

Tyler nods, tugging you towards the exit. “I didn’t see where they ended up, we’ll find them.”

You’re wobbly and unsure as you begin to walk towards the door, but Tyler’s hand gripping your elbow offers extra reassurance. 

Tyler has to put his weight against the door before it’ll open. There’s a pile of debris in front of it that he pushes to the side to make way for people to exit. Slowly, the pair of you make your way through the hallway and up the stairs to the first floor. 

You gasp when you see the damage– large chunks of the roof have been ripped off, displaying a gray, cloudy sky above. There’s random objects and piles of scrap lying in the halls. You and Tyler have to step over obstacles just to get to the exit door. This one opens with much more ease– making you sigh a breath of relief when you’re finally out in the open. 

Already there’s ambulances and cops arriving on the scene. 

Tyler nudges you towards one of the ambulance trucks. “Let’s get your head checked,” he insists. 

You’re foggy but still try to argue. 

“What about Lily and Dani? And Boone and Dex–”

“I know,” he says gently. “We’ll find ‘em, but you can’t even see with all that blood running in your eyes, so how about we get ya stitched up first, yeah?”

You want to argue– but in the end, you’re too exhausted. 

Tyler holds your hand the entire time you get checked out. The EMT shines a light in your eye– then makes you follow his finger back and forth. Meanwhile, something vicious pulses in the back of your skull. 

You try to be tough, but the second you see the needle the EMT pulls out, you start to get shaky. 

“You’re okay,” Tyler assures you, thumb grazing across the surface of your knuckles. “You’re okay, it’ll be quick.”

The EMT applies a local anesthetic, and luckily, you don’t really feel much after the first initial poke. But as soon as he’s done, he starts mumbling something about a concussion. 

Tyler nods before accepting the bag of ice offered. 

“Tyler! Y/N!” you hear a familiar voice holler. 

You exhale a breath of relief at the sight of Boone running through the rubble towards you. 

“Boone–” Tyler sighs, sounding equally relieved. He wraps an arm around his friend and claps his back gently. “You alright?” 

He nods. “I’m alright. Lily, Dani, and Dex too. We and about thirty others took cover in this old Irish lady’s store– she had a storm shelter out back believe it or not.” 

“You guys alright?” Boone’s eyes wander to you– in particular, the bandage on your forehead. 

“We’re okay,” Tyler says quickly. “Concussed– but she’s okay.” 

“Thank God for that. Y’all done here? RV’s beat to shit, but Lily found the truck. The windshield’s pretty shattered but I think she’ll drive.”

Tyler presses the ice the EMT had given him against your temple and nods. “Let’s get you home.”

…

“T?” 

“Hmm?” Tyler hums, he doesn’t take his eyes off you, although he’s painfully aware of his best friend watching him with a scrunched face through the rearview mirror. 

Normally Tyler always drove. But since you’d barely made it to the car without passing out beside him, he opted for the backseat. 

You’re currently curled into his side, breathing steadily with your eyes snapped shut.  

“Tyler–” 

“What, Boone?” 

“Was it your bad knee?”

“What?” he asks. 

“Don’t what me, T—” Boone frowns. “I was there the first time ya injured that knee. Is that the same one?”

Tyler shrugs. “Might be.”

Boone sighs. “C’mon T, why didn’t ya get it checked with the medics?” 

“Because it ain’t that important,” Tyler shoots back quietly, trying not to wake you up. “I gotta get her home first, she’s concussed and scared. And my stupid knee can wait.”

“T–”

Tyler clenches his jaw as he tries to straighten his knee. He can already feel it swelling underneath the fabric of his jeans. “I’ll get it checked tomorrow, Boone. Okay?” 

Boone shakes his head. “Fine. But for the record, you’re an idiot.” 

Tyler’s about to reply, but then he feels you shift in his arms. As he glances down in concern, he watches you sigh and nuzzle your head against his shoulder. 

When Boone pulls the truck in front of your place, you still haven’t budged. And truthfully, after the day you’d had, Tyler doesn’t want to wake you. So, he carefully scoops you up in his arms and slides out of the truck. As soon as he puts the pressure on his knee of your combined weight, he winces. 

“Jesus, T–” Boone says from the rolled down window. “You’re gonna make it worse.”

“I’m fine, Boone– just go back and get Dex, Dani, and Lily. Get ‘em home safe.”

Without looking back, he carefully carries you up the driveway and through the front door.  

His knee is screaming the entire way, but when he gently kicks the bedroom door open and deposits you in the bed, he breathes a sigh of relief. Tyler pulls off your muddy boots before pulling the blanket from the foot of the bed over you, then, he quietly slips out of the door– heading for the bathroom. 

Tyler grunts as he lowers himself to the edge of the tub, his right leg awkwardly sticking out as he attempts to straighten it. He hasn’t bothered to change– his jeans are still coated in dirt and blood. 

Tyler shifts to look at his knee and debates whether he should’ve listened to Boone and gone to get it checked out. He secretly had been hoping his knee would heal itself, but now, sitting in the bathroom, Tyler can feel that something was wrong. 

Sighing, Tyler slowly lifts himself from the tub to shed his jeans. He grimaces when he pulls the fabric over his swollen knee– but he cringes even harder when he sees how bruised the skin is. Tyler pokes around the bone a few times– trying to determine where the most damage is. Ultimately, he realizes it’s on the outer part– probably a torn ligament or two, if he has to guess. 

He’s only been in the bathroom for a few minutes when he hears the floorboards creak in the hall. Tyler’s attention shifts as there’s a soft knock on the door. 

“Tyler?” your voice is small. “Tyler, are you in there?”

He immediately grabs the pair of sweatpants he grabbed from the bedroom and stands up to tug them on. You’ve been through enough– Tyler doesn’t need you seeing his injury on top of everything else. 

Once he’s covered he pulls open the door– all pain in his knee forgotten about when he sees you standing in the hall, hair messy and shirt wrinkled underneath your crossed arms. 

“Hey baby, what’s wrong?” he asks. 

You take a deep breath, eyes watery as you gaze at him in what looks like disbelief. 

“I–” you begin. “I woke up and you were gone.”

Tyler can’t help but step closer to you. “I’m sorry, baby. I was just changing–”

You nod quickly. “It’s okay– I just…” your voice fades, like you can’t find the words. 

So, instead of speaking, you move closer to him and sneak your hands around his waist. After laying your head flat against his chest, Tyler winds his arms around your shoulders and tugs you closer. 

“Everything okay?” he murmurs against your hair. 

He feels you nod beneath him, but doesn’t miss the way you squeeze him just a bit tighter. 

The two of you stay like that until Tyler’s knee begins to ache too much to bear. He fights the pain for as long as he can, but eventually he has to pull away. 

“It’s been a long day, why don’t we get you back in bed?” he asks. 

Your voice is muffled against his chest when you reply. “Will you stay with me?”

Tyler tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear and smiles. “‘Course I will.”

…

Tyler doesn’t recall falling asleep. 

What he does recall is being startled awake in the dead of the night to a blood curdling scream. 

You thrash beside him harshly– flinching at something that isn’t there. 

“Tyler!” you scream out. “Tyler!”

Just as he turns to snap on the light, you kick your leg out– your foot colliding with the outside of his knee. 

Tyler hisses, unable to think for a moment as the pain shoots up his entire leg. You continue to cry out beside him desperately. After a moment, once the pain dulls just slightly, Tyler’s able to reach for you.  

The second his hand shakes your shoulder, your eyes snap open. They’re wide and wild as they search for him desperately. When you finally realize that it’s him who’s beside you, you take a shuddering breath. 

“You’re okay,” he says. Without waiting for you to respond, he reaches for you– gripping your shoulder and tugging you to his chest. You don’t hesitate before folding against him, breathing still rapid and panicky. 

You fist at the fabric of his shirt tightly, like you’re ensuring he won’t slip away. “I got you,” he whispers, pressing his lips against your hair. “You’re okay, I got you.”

“I was–” you pant. “I was back there– I couldn’t find you– you weren’t there–”

 “Sh,” Tyler hums. “I’m right here, baby. I got you.”

“You’re right here,” you mumble quietly, like you’re reassuring yourself. 

Eventually, your whimpers fade and your breathing steadies out. Tyler’s not sure how long it takes, but you fall back asleep curled against him while he runs his fingers through your hair. Tyler never falls back asleep, but you don’t move again until morning. 

…

Despite the throbbing in his knee and the pounding in his head demanding caffeine, Tyler doesn’t get up until he feels you stir beneath him. Your eyes flutter open, relief instantly washing over your features when you notice he’s still with you. 

“Morning,” you mumble sleepily. 

Tyler pretends like he hasn’t been awake for the last three hours and smiles. “Mornin’. How’re you feelin’ today? How’s the head?”

You shrug. “I’m okay, still a little shaken up I think.” 

Tyler nods understandingly. “Why don’t I go make us some coffee?”

Your lips spread into a small smile. “Okay,” you agree, untangling your limbs from his. “Thanks.”

Tyler carefully slid out of bed, trying to prevent you from seeing the obvious limp he was sporting– but the night had made his knee grow stiff. As soon as he was out the door, he hobbled down the stairs, hand gripping the railing the entire way. 

Almost as soon as Tyler makes it to the bottom of the stairs, he hears a knock at the door. He frowns at the unannounced visitor, wondering who would be stopping by before nine in the morning. 

Tyler hoists open the front door to see Boone standing on the other side. 

“Boone– hey,” Tyler says, caught off guard. “What’re you doin’ here?”

“Hey man, just checkin’ in.”

“What happened to phone calls?”

Boone frowns. “Man, I texted and called about a hundred times, I was just poppin’ in to make sure you weren’t dead.”

Tyler steps to the side to allow room for his friend to come inside. “Shit, sorry,” he says, recalling that he left his phone downstairs all night. “I just forgot to charge it. I’m hangin’ in there, you?”

Tyler closes the door behind Boone before limping back towards the kitchen. 

“Bullshit,” Boone says, eyeing Tyler’s gate. “Have you called the doc yet?” 

“I just got up–” Tyler starts as he grabs a few mugs from the cabinet. 

“Call right now– see if they can get ya in today.”

“Since when did you become such a mother hen?” Tyler grumbles, flicking on the coffee pot. “I’ll call today.”

“The earlier you call, the better chance they can get ya in. Unless you want to just go straight to the hospital–”

“Why would he need to go to the hospital?” Your voice makes Tyler’s head snap to the side. 

You’re standing in your sweats and one of his t-shirts with your arms crossed. You look between him and Boone carefully, like you’re studying the situation.  

“I don’t–” Tyler starts. 

“You didn’t tell her?” Boone interrupts. 

Tyler watches as a look of concern takes over your face. “Tell me what?”

“Boone,” Tyler says sharply in warning. “Don’t.”

“What is it?” you demand, looking at him for an explanation. 

“Nothing,” Tyler clears his throat. “I’m fine–”

“Tyler fucked up his knee yesterday,” Boone blurts out, eyes never leaving Tyler. 

Tyler sighs, eyes slowly falling shut now that his secret was out. “Jesus, Boone.”

“Sorry, T. But maybe she’ll convince you to get it checked,” he says. 

“What?” you say, looking down at Tyler’s covered knee. When no one responds, you blurt out, “Oh my God, the car– your leg was crushed–” 

Tyler rubs the back of his neck, purposely avoiding your gaze “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you go to the medic…” your voice trails off in realization. “Because you were too busy helping me,” you answer your own question. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I’m sure it’s fine.”

“Let me see it.”

Tyler winces at your harsh tone. “What?”

“Your knee, let me see it.”

Tyler clears his throat. “Baby, it’s fine–”

“If it’s fine you’ll let me see it,” you say stubbornly. 

There was an awkward moment of silence as Tyler contemplated what to do. He’d looked at his knee the night before, and can only imagine how much worse it probably looks today. 

Finally he sighs, accepting his fate as neither you nor Boone back down. He grips the hem of his sweatpants and yanks the leg up, showing his bare knee. 

You gasp before hurrying over. “Tyler, what the fuck–”

How had you not noticed? You supposed yesterday in your daze you missed his limps or awkward steps– but you still think that you should have known– a damn car fell on him for God’s sake…

“Jesus, T,” Boone hisses. 

Tyler steals a glance. The discoloration is darker than last night, and the swelling has definitely gotten worse. Tyler curses himself for not at least throwing an ice pack on it the night before. 

“Oh my God, you carried me–” you blurt out. “What the hell, Tyler?”

“Y/N,” he pleads, sighing. But when he glances at you, he’s surprised to see tears forming in your eyes. 

“So it is the bad one,” Boone mutters after he notes the scar down the center of Tyler’s knee. 

You suck in a sharp breath. 

Tyler drops his pant leg and straightens his back. “Look, I will get it checked out, okay? I promise– it’s not a big deal.”

Tyler expects backlash, but there’s no response. Boone looks like he’s nodding, maybe he’s actually believing Tyler’s promise. But you’ve gone quiet, head down and arms crossed defensively, like you’re withdrawing into a shell. 

Boone turns towards you, finally averting the attention off from Tyler. “How’re you doin’? How’s the concussion?” he asks. 

You shrug. “I’m okay. A little headache, but nothing broken. You?”

Boone nods. “About the same. I’m gonna go check on Lily, then we’ll drop the truck back off later, will you make sure he gets to the doctor’s today?”

“I’m right here,” Tyler sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Yeah but I trust her more than you,” Boone says candidly. 

You offer him a small smile, “I’ll do my best,” you say. 

Boone offers the two of you one final nod before heading out the front door. 

“Leave it to Boone to barge in like that at nine in the mornin’,” Tyler says as he extends a steaming mug of coffee towards you. But you never uncross your arms. Instead, you just stare at him like that with a look of disapproval. 

“C’mon,” Tyler sighs, head falling. “I’ve been walking on it since yesterday and I haven’t fallen apart yet. You and Boone are both making this a bigger deal than it is.” At this point he knows he’s being a little difficult, but he just wants this over with. 

“I–” you choke out. “I– I don’t understand. Why would you stay in pain like that? Why wouldn’t you tell me you were hurt? Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I trust you,” Tyler says. 

“So why lie?” 

“I didn’t lie–”

“You told me you were fine– I mean you… you carried me on a broken knee, for God’s sake–”

“We have no idea that it’s broken,” Tyler reminds you. 

You scoff. “It looks pretty fucking broken to me, Tyler.”

“It’s just a knee–”

“I know it’s just your knee, and knees heal– but what if it was something worse… I mean, what else are you lying to me about?”

“C’mon,” he sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. “I didn’t lie.”

“Okay, so just keeping stuff from me then,” you say, voice rising. “I mean, you were such an idiot yesterday– first you tell me to leave you behind when the car fell, then you shield my body with yours in the basement instead of keeping yourself safe– now you’re getting my injuries checked out and completely neglecting your own. And for what?” you yell. “I mean… is it an ego thing? Because you’re too tough to get checked out? Or what? Some stupid sort of hero complex? You gotta prove yourself by putting your life in danger?” 

Tyler’s jaw clenches as he grinds his teeth together. “Is that what you really think?” 

You throw your hands up exasterbatedly. “I don’t know what to think! Because you won’t fucking talk to me!” 

Tyler scoffs. “Are you really that mad about this?”

You suck in a breath before sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. “Yeah–” you choke out. “I am mad– I’m mad because I don’t want to lose you!” your voice cracks on the final word, fat tears rolling down your cheek, leaving streaks behind. Tyler’s entire demeanor instantly softens at the sight. He moves closer, but doesn’t reach out. 

“I did all that to protect you–” he spits out. “Because I can’t stand the idea of something happening to you.”

You wipe the tears away from your face, chest heaving as you listen. 

“God, if you got hurt– trying to help me lift a goddamn car off my legs… or because I led you into the wrong spot– or because I put my stupid knee about your head injury, I’d never forgive myself.” 

“And you think I could forgive myself if I ran away and left you underneath a fucking car? Or if you died shielding me from debris?” 

He sighs defeatedly before leaning against he kitchen counter, trying to take some weight off his knee. “I get what you’re saying, Y/N, but that’s just what I do– I protect the people I love… And unfortunately for you, I love you more than anything else.” 

Finally, the look of frustration melted off your face. In it’s place was a mixture of sadness and admiration. “I love you more than anything else too, which is why I need you to take care of yourself.”

Tyler nods, finally feeling like you both were finding some common ground. “I can’t promise I won’t put you first,” he says. “But I promise I’ll try to take care of the both of us.” 

You shift your weight to your right leg and pop your hip disapprovingly. 

“C’mon, what can I do to make things better?” he asks, tilting his head to the side as he gazes at you. 

“Well for starters you could let me take you to the damn hospital.”

Tyler offers you a pleading look. “How about the doctor’s office?” 

“Urgent care,” you state, like it’s your final offer. 

Tyler groans exaggeratedly but then nods. “Okay, fine. Deal. Urgent care it is. But let it be known this is only happening because I love you so much.” 

 The corner of your lip tugs into a small smile. Tyler will take it. 

[inkdrinkerworld]

omg can we get some overprotective Logan PLEASE

in which logan gets into it with some guy for flirting with you, mutant!reader

it wasn't often that the team got days off. charles always had some set of trainings for them to complete.

it was fun most of the time, but a day off every now and then was needed and tonight was the night.

you were out with logan, scott, ororo and peter. you'd become sort of like a core group and did almost everything with each other.

you were at a bar, some hole-in-the-wall place that didn't attract much attention.

you however, if your boyfriend was anyone to listen to, were drawing a lot of eyes to you.

you weren't in anything special, just a pair of shorts and one of logan's shirt that you had tied to cinch at the waist.

you and ororo were laughing at a guy who kept coming up to peter to challenge him to arm wrestling. it's happened three times now and he's lost all.

"do you think he'll give up?" you ask her, watching as peter pins the man's hand to the table a fourth time.

"maybe not, they'll keep going till peter either lets him win or breaks his arm."

logan and scott are bringing the drinks back when the man turns to you and ororo with a scowl.

"what the fuck are you two laughing at?"

you scowl, "the fact that you've lost four times in a row." you say, eyes narrowing at the man who's standing now.

"listen bitch," he crowds your space on the table and before you can push him away from you, logan has him by the collar of his shirt.

"wanna try that again, bub?" he asks the man, anger boiling through him. you're surprised his claws haven't come out yet.

"oh what? the little bitch can't fight her own battles?" the man asks and you and ororo shake your heads.

the fight is quick, logan doesn't need much help disabling the man and having him cradling his now dislocated shoulder.

he takes his seat beside you like nothing's happened but you're sure the owner will be out soon to tell you to leave.

"you don't always have to beat them up, y'know." you say as you stroke his healing knuckles.

"what do you mean by why i got into a fight with them?" logan frowns, his other hand cupping your cheek so you're looking at him. "he's lucky he only got a dislocated shoulder."

ororo shakes her head, pointing to the owner who's coming out. "we'd better get going."

you tap the table twice, little sparks falling from your touch before moving to the people in the bar.

"i'd have broken more than his shoulder," logan whispers to you and you giggle when his hand brushes between the wings kept hidden on your back. "he's just lucky you look pretty tonight."

you two don't make it back to the institute with the rest of your friends. logan rents a room at a shitty hotel but it's the best way to end your night.

[andrastepls]

A/SMR.

synop: reader lost her hearing after an explosion, simon has an idea to help her ‘hear’ him again

warnings: none i think ? canon typical violence & loss of hearing maybe knda spicy

not proofread we die like men

Adjusting to life without sound had been a trial on its own. It was something no-one really prepared for — silly as it seemed, now. Bombs and guns going off right next to a person for any amount of time was bound to cause damage at one point or another. Or, maybe, she just had shit luck.

The blast had come and gone so quickly, she had no time to react. No one did. It missed anything vital, but it had sent her rocketing into a wall; promptly breaking her arm, a few ribs, and rupturing her eardrums all in one fell swoop. If nothing else, recovery went relatively smoothly. As smoothly as it could have, at any rate, what with Soap and Gaz being absolutely glued to the chairs in the infirmary. Even getting kicked out a few times — luckily, Price and the Lt. were a little less chaotic. Be it because the medic on-site had a soft spot, or because Simon had intimidated the poor guy, he had been allowed to spend the first two nights in the infirm with her.

Being tucked away in his arms did wonders for her anxiety, but the cot was a bit small for him alone, let alone the pair of them. Blessedly, she had been given the okay to return to her own quarters after that.

A few months later, and her bones were good and well healed, but her ears were another story. The specialist kind. The off-duty kind. The waitlist was long, and going home, alone, in the quiet, sounded like her own personal hell. So, she stayed on base to wait it out.

The silence was her enemy, deafening in its lack of any and everything. She swore she could forget the music the world made in a moment without it. It was cold, void and lonely. Missing out on jokes, not ever hearing the booming shouts and laughter of the boys. Sounds she never thought she’d miss.

It didn’t go unnoticed. For all his grumbling and brooding, Ghost was terribly good at being good company. She was thankful for him, at least. Perhaps now more than ever. He was . . . oddly tentative of her. Making a point to brush a hand against her when he was near, what was previously a hovering palm near her back was now an open-handed reminder someone was there.

He made learning to sign feel so much easier. Subbing out some signs for military signals. A natural transition, when the other person knew how to speak it — even when he didn’t need to.

It was a kindness done solely for her benefit; a fact in which he would never admit, but she knew it to be true nevertheless.

• • •

She felt out of practice. Clumsy and uncertain of herself when he touched her, nothing like herself, and he noticed. He pulls back from her, hands curving through the space between their chests to say, “You okay?”

She swallows, looking away. Embarrassment flushes her cheeks a shade of maroon, the heat of it crawling up her neck.

“It’s not you.” she signs back after a beat, eyes finding his with nothing short of pleading in her irises, “I miss you. But the sound - ”

Lithe hands flop into her lap. She feels . . . inadequate. Incomplete. Hateful, to herself, knowing that she can’t be who he loved first anymore, “I miss hearing you.” it was a cruel thing for the universe to do to her; give her a man to fall in love with, a voice that lulled her to sleep, filled her heart, tightened her legs — and then take it away from her. Leaving her in this muffled prison.

He makes a face at that - not one of ill intent or anything of the sort - rather, one of confusion. She missed hearing him?

He never thought his voice to be something worth missing; though, he quickly understands when his mind wonders what never hearing her again would be like. His girl is quieter now, to be sure. But he can still hear her - the little noises she makes, when she hums to herself without noticing . . . among other noises . . .

There’s a moment where he stays still, only his eyes moving between the two. She’s about to lift her hands so say something else, but he promptly cuts her off by taking one of her wrists between his fingers. Encouraging her to open her hand and bringing her palm up to rest around his throat.

She pauses, wide eyes blinking between their hands and his face — that frustrating little smirk of his curling his lips upward at the corners. She can’t make sense of what he’s doing at first, canting her head to the side like a confused dog, and then, he hums. The sound vibrating against her fingers. Her jaws drops open slightly in shock, eyes locked between her hand and his mouth, wanting to say ‘again’.

Alas, he was a step ahead of her, and mumbles out her name in a breath. Feeling her name in his throat before reading it on his lips.

Hm.

A/N: i dont know its 1am !!

[angelltheninth]

Marvel Characters + Angst

Pairing: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Kate Bishop, Carol Danvers, Tony Stark, Peter Parker x Reader

Tags: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, nightmares, injury, protectiveness, kissing, tears, cuddles

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters

A/N: I'm feelings angsty today and now you will too.

Steve has a hard time adjusting to a time of peace when he's known battle and wars for more time than most people. You can see he's always high strung, tense, like he's waiting for something to go wrong. Because of this you can't relax either, despite him telling you that you should. He can't take his own advice. No matter what activity you do together there's that voice at the back of his head that's telling him he has to be ready for action at any moment, he needs to protect you at all times.

Bucky often has nightmares of the things he was forced to do under Hydra's command. When you're not there he can have several sleepless nights but he claims that he's used to getting little to no sleep so there's no need for you to worry about him. Usually he has to be convinced to sleep without his prosthetic arm since he can experience phantom pain without it but he's also more likely to have nightmares with it on. He likes you comforting him when he keeps his head on your lap and you gently run your fingers through his hair.

Sam has had a lot on his plate lately, being the new Captain America and trying to balance that new life with dating you. Sometimes you overhear him talking on the phone, frustrated with whoever is on the other end, and himself for not being with you more. This could lead to a break up if he isn't careful, he doesn't think you'd leave hum but at the same time he thinks you deserve a boyfriend who is always there for you. All these doubts creep into his head even when you tell him you love him more than anyone, he just has to believe those words.

Natasha often hides her feelings of sadness and doubt from you, to a Black Widow it's not a hard task at all. Except you know your girlfriend well enough by now to be able to tell when she's keeping things from you. She doesn't want to, she really doesn't, usually she's happy to share things from her past with you, even the bad, because she wants you to know what you're getting into. Still when she thinks you might get hurt because of her old enemies she makes sure to work extra hard to be able to protect you from any threat.

Clint was a much cockier man when you first started dating, but the years of superhero work and the years you spent apart changed him. There were still parts of him that were the same, parts of the man you fell in love with but there was also the darker parts that he insisted on keeping from you. He always keeps you close at night, his grip tight, scared that you might slip from his fingers if he lets go. The last thing he wants is to give you a reason to leave him again, he wouldn't be able to handle another life without you in it.

Kate was really excited to tell you about her new role as an Avenger, sort of, she's a protégé of her favorite Avenger so close enough. You were happy to see her happy but of course you reminded her that she needed to be careful when she was going on patrol or missions. Of course you expected that she would get a few bruises and injuries here and there, what you didn't expect is for her to turn up at your doorstep barely able to stand on her own. She kept telling you it's not that bad but when she can't even kiss without wincing it's pretty bad.

Carol doesn't really date, she never has, all she had were on and off relationships, some who lasted longer some who were pretty short. With her constant moving around space that was what she figured was best for her emotions and anyone she gets with, no expectations, just honesty. She really hated that she started to like you as much as she did. It complicated everything, she wanted to spend all her free time with you, and you with her, you managed to tear down all the walls she put around herself.

Tony is well known for being a playboy but when he started dating you it was obvious that he was getting more than a little emotionally invested. He started calling you whenever he was free, flirting, telling you he missed the sound of your voice. The first thing he'd do when he was done with work was visit you, showering you with affection, kisses, gifts, anything you want. No matter what the press say he is fully enamored with you, he only hopes you take him seriously and don't feel like he's playing with you for the fun of it.

Peter got a lot more protective of you when you started dating. On the surface he was still the happy, bubbly guy that charmed his way into your heart but underneath he was getting more and more anxious. Torn between telling you his identity and keeping it a secret since he knew how bad that could end, and he certainly didn't want to put you in danger by knowing his secret. However keeping a secret began to take a tole on him, he began making mistakes, getting hurt, and eventually getting caught by you.

[thef1diary]

Comfort In You | D. Ricciardo

Summary: your apprehension towards physical touch dwindles down as you spend time around Daniel.

Warnings: none just fluff

Pairing: daniel x fem!reader

wc: 2.3k

Note: after proofreading it I realized that there aren’t many dialogues, it’s more descriptive. I also didn’t include a reason why the reader doesn’t like physical touch so that can be up to you to interpret.

It started with fist bumps, that too after you had backed away from a hug when Daniel tried to pull you in. That was exactly why you had tried to avoid being around Daniel at all costs, to prevent any awkward encounters with him.

At least you were glad that he was drunk when it happened so there was a chance he wouldn't remember, perhaps that's why he tried to hug you when you were about to leave. He wouldn't have tried to do so if he was sober because he respected your personal space, however the same couldn't be said for drunk Daniel.

It was an unspoken agreement between you two, he knew from the first few days Max introduced you that you didn't like any sort of physical contact. Usually meeting a friend of a friend, he would shake their hand and then pull them in for a quick hug.

But when it came to being introduced to you, you had quickly shaken his hand and dropped it before he could even initiate a hug.

You baffled him, and while it wasn't a topic of concern for anyone else around you, it confused him a lot. Daniel thought that you didn't like being around him. However he was proven wrong when your eyes twinkled every time you spoke to him.

You always had a smile on your face whenever you were around him which should’ve made the subtle act of keeping to yourself go unnoticed. Daniel noticed everything.

He still had a nagging thought that you hated him, so one day he asked Max about it when they were walking through the paddock and was met with a laugh in response. "I told her that you would notice it," he told Daniel.

Daniel stopped walking, "what does that mean?" Max didn't think it was a big deal so he shrugged, "she just doesn't like physical touch, and I told her that if I introduced you two, that you would notice it." 

"So what, you warned her that I'm a big hugger?" Daniel laughed in poor attempt to hide how he was invested in knowing more about you. "Well you are, so yes I told her about it." They began walking again, or rather Max did and Daniel helplessly followed behind but didn't say anything.

"Why? Does it bother you?" Max asked as he looked back at Daniel. He shook his head, "no, I just thought she hated me."

At that, Max laughed, "you have no idea just how wrong you are," he patted Daniel's shoulder and walked away, leaving him behind with more questions than he initially had.

Daniel would’ve happily forgotten the little almost-hug but Max didn’t let him. The morning after it happened, he woke up to a string of texts from Max reminding him of his actions.

Now see, you didn’t think of it as a big deal because you knew Daniel. You noticed how he held back from randomly placing an arm around you or any other sort of contact, and with that kind of effort—especially after Max told you he was a hugger—you thought of it as a simple mistake.

Daniel on the other hand, he was losing his mind. He did the complete opposite of what he was supposed to do. His uncontrollable reeling thoughts caused him to blurt out an apology as soon as he saw you.

You surprised him, by laughing it off and telling him exactly what you thought of it—a simple mistake. But you surprised him even further by briefly patting his arm. It was such a brief touch that if he blinked, he wouldn’t have seen it nor felt it.

Lately, he hasn’t been blinking often around you. His gaze focuses on you anytime you enter a room. Even if there were other people trying to gain his attention, his was all on you.

As you walked away after giving him a reassuring smile, he didn’t look away until you were out of his sight. But you never left his mind. His other hand brushed against his arm where you touched him.

If anyone was looking at him, he would’ve been caught stupidly smiling to himself.

Daniel kept that little moment shared between you two a secret, even when Max tried to pester him about his cheery mood. Sure, Daniel usually had a smile on his face, so it didn’t look much different to anyone who didn’t know him well. However, Max knew him very well, so he could see the difference clearly.

There weren’t any drastic differences from that day, in fact it was like nothing had changed because you didn’t initiate any touches again.

Daniel felt like a man dying from heat in the desert, and your touch was like a cool drop of water. That one drop made him realize he needed more to quench his heart's desire.

His actions didn’t change around you. His mind was screaming at him to do something, but he never became clingy.

A few of your friends decided to plan another outing, and although you forgot some of the details, you remembered that Daniel would be there too. For some reason, that made you smile as you dressed for the evening.

Max had the stupidest brilliant idea to park away from all the other cars, the reason being, “do you know how many drunks crash their cars in the parking lot? I do not want my car to become a victim to that.”

That decision led to a good ten minute walk to your destination. Unfortunately, you didn’t dress for a walk in the cool evening weather. You wrapped your hands around yourself, which had become a habit so no one pointed it out.

But once you started rubbing your hands up and down your arms in an attempt to stay warm, Daniel’s eyes caught your movement. He was walking right next to you, and also noticed how you very subtlety inched closer to him to stay warm.

Your mind was focused on putting one foot in front of the other, as walking in heels wasn’t your forte, and you were very tempted to walk barefoot but decided otherwise.

Daniel was able to take off his jacket without alerting you. He hesitated for a moment before shaking his head at his own thoughts and placed the jacket on your shoulders.

Startled by the sudden warmth, you looked at him. He smiled like he usually does, then looked ahead nonchalantly. If he looked at you any longer, his eyes would plead you to keep the jacket on.

He felt your gaze watching him carefully, as if to analyze him but it was dark outside other than a few streetlights briefly illuminating his face.

You turned to look ahead as well, but a smile grew on your face before you could hold it back. Daniel looked at you through his peripheral vision, watching you tug his jacket a little tighter around yourself, enveloping in the warmth it created.

Once you reached your destination, his jacket wasn’t returned to him and he didn’t dare ask for it back. Even if your other friends kept pulling him away from you throughout the night, his distinctive scent on his jacket made it feel like he was right next to you.

Daniel kept himself from drinking because he would rather dig a hole and live in it than recreate the moment he tried to hug you because of his drunken stupidity.

By the time the night ended, all of your other friends had drank significantly more than you and Daniel. They complained about Max’s decision about parking far away but you didn’t dare correct them that it was a collective decision.

This led to just you and Daniel walking to get the car, because no one else wanted to walk for another ten minutes after the night they had.

It was significantly quieter outside than inside the building. You and Daniel didn’t speak, basking in the silence of the night.

You were walking closely but not close enough to touch. Daniel’s hand was itching to move an inch towards you so he could hold your hand. You didn’t pay attention, so you didn’t see how his hand clenched into a fist then unclenched indecisively.

Then you felt it, Daniel’s pinky linking with yours. Your first instinct was to move away, but you fought it and decided to look at him first. He was already looking at you, with a hopeful smile on his face.

You weren’t sure what expression your face formed but it couldn’t have been good because you felt Daniel move to pull his hand away.

Instinctively, you tightened the grip your pinky had on his to prevent him from moving away. This time, Daniel couldn’t hide the shock on his face. You only smiled in return, nudging slightly closer to him and threading your fingers between his.

Neither of you let go until you reached the car.

That night, you basked in each other’s presence but it wasn’t spoken of again. Although it did make you more comfortable around Daniel. There were a few side hugs exchanged which he would say was the biggest difference.

But now, instead of looking for the next opportunity to brush across your skin, he simply enjoys the moments you do, wanting them to last just a little longer.

It was race weekend again, and this time Daniel was happy to travel because you were right there with him. Well, so was Max, but he always there.

Daniel’s mood shifted while he was completing some media duties. He didn’t think he could long for you even more than he already was but you were so close, yet so far away from him.

All he wanted to do was to check on you as it was the first race you attended, but Max reassured him that he would take good care of you. After all, you knew Max before you met Daniel.

Daniel couldn’t figure out the right words to explain that he wanted to be the one showing you around.

Fortunately he would be able to see you in a while considering his schedule wasn’t as busy as it would be on race day.

He was in his driver’s room once he finally got some time to himself, choosing to take a quick shower before immediately falling on the couch from exhaustion. He closed his eyes for a few moments before picking up his phone to call you.

Daniel could’ve sent you a text but he preferred hearing your voice. However, before he could even type out a word, the door to his driver’s room opened.

Usually, he was very annoyed whenever anyone entered without knocking, but when he looked up and saw you, he forgot all about his annoyance.

“Hey, I was just about to call you,” he spoke, showing you his phone held in his hand but you didn’t utter a word. You closed the door behind you and walked closer.

He shifted, sitting up straighter so there was space for you to sit. You didn’t move even when he patted the seat next to him.

A wrinkle showed up in between his eyebrows as his face contorted into worry. You clasped your hands together, beginning to fidget, unsure of how to tell him what you wanted.

Daniel noticed your fidgeting and even though you didn’t do it often, he knew that whenever you did, there was something bothering you.

Once again, his hands itched to hold yours to make you stop fidgeting but he decided to ask you first, “what’s wrong?”

You sighed, dropping your hands to your side before hesitantly holding them out towards him, “hold me?”

It took Daniel a little too long to understand the two words that came out of your mouth. Taking the pause as denial, you dropped your hands and were about to mutter an apology.

However, before you could, Daniel lurched forwards and pulled you closer. It was so unexpected that you literally fell into his arms. “I will never say no to holding you,” he muttered in your ear and that’s when a tear spilled out of your eye.

Clinging on to his shirt, you hugged him tightly. His hands wrapped around your body, running up and down your back in a soothing manner.

He didn’t utter a word, feeling your chest rise and fall with each breath you took against his chest. As time passed, you remained in his arms and it felt so natural to both of you that neither of you questioned it.

It was evident that you were drifting off to sleep, so he didn’t move an inch, letting you sleep in his arms. Already exhausted from before, and now with you in his arms, he was close to falling asleep as well.

That however, was not possible as Max walked into Daniel’s driver’s room like he owned the place. Daniel groaned out loud but stopped once you shifted around in his grasp.

Fortunately, Max didn’t utter a word as he entered and paused in his tracks once he saw you and Daniel. His jaw quite literally dropped open, pointing at you and then him.

“What’s going on?” Max whispered, looking at the dried tear marks on your cheeks but then spotted the small smile on your face as you slept.

“I wish I knew but whatever it is, I don’t mind at all, as long as I get to have her like this,” Daniel responded while looking at you, then he looked up at Max who was beaming at him.

“What?” Max shook his head, “nothing, I was here to ask if you want to join us for dinner but I think you are happy here.”

Daniel nodded, “I am,” he watched Max close the door after he left and rested his head in the crook of your neck, sighing deeply.

You didn’t hold back anymore, there was no reason to. You had found comfort in Daniel and he found comfort in you, that’s all that mattered.