#i feel so restless like my whole body is aching with it i need to Do Something i cant just sit here and read notes any longer

[sematarygirls]

God Complex — Sonny Carisi.

pairing: sonny carisi x fem!suspect!reader (sort of in a clarice and hannibal lecter sort of way)

summary: the special victims unit finally catch the woman who has been wreacking havoc on new york city by targeting convicted rapists and brutally killing them. detective carisi is assigned to interrogate you, and he can't help but find your mind eerily fascinating.

warnings: very dark; viewer discretion advised, graphic depictions of murder, mutilation, castration, and torture, mentions of rape, mentions of dead animals, mentions of suicide

word count: 6.1k words !

a/n: i feel like i wrote a shit ton, but it still somehow feels rushed??? also i accidently wrote this whole thing in lowercase, and i don't feel like going through and fixing it all, so my apologies 🙏

  ／ your bare feet padded against the cold tile of your apartment as you made your way to the kitchen sink. a blank expression settled onto your features as you listened to the constant plop, plop, plop of water droplets falling from the faucet.

the paint was peeling, the walls dingy and grey, which only added to the lifeless atmosphere around you. the air was cold, goosebumps raising on your skin as you stared at the leaking sink. your grip on the counter tightened, knuckles going white under the pressure. you felt your control slipping, and that was never a good sign. you would get careless, sloppy, and that just wouldn't do. you had to act before the urges consumed you completely.

you'd always had these urges, always had a sick fascination with death. when you were younger, you would seek out roadkill, watching with curious eyes as maggots devoured decaying flesh while the scent of death permeated the air. It shouldve sickened you. you shouldve screamed and covered your mouth in horror like any other little girl would have—your heart breaking for the poor little animal sat at your feet—but you never did.

as you got older, that fascination extended from just animals to the human body. you wondered what it would be like to wrap your hands around someone's neck and feel the life leave them. you wondered how it would feel to plunge a knife into someone and feel the hot, sticky blood on your skin. you fantasized about it, about what it would feel like to be completely and utterly in control of whether someone lived or died.

you took a deep, shuddering breath as you released your grip on the counter. you turned the sink on, splashing some water on your face. the ice cold water felt like it went directly into your veins, shocking you from the walking haze you'd been in.

you sighed, running your wet hands over your face. it was too soon to kill again, but you needed to. your hands were growing restless, aching to feel the handle of your knife as you stabbed your helpless victim over and over again, their pleas and cries for you to stop like a front row seat to a symphony meant just for you.

"god dammit," you muttered, turning the sink off and spinning around. you squeezed your eyes shut, the sound of the water droplets continuously hitting the metal basin reverberating in your ears. you needed out of this apartment.

your eyebrows furrowed, a frown pulling at your lips as you headed to your bedroom. you pushed inside, shoving the door so hard that it smacked against the wall and bounced back. you didn't pay this any mind as you went to your closet, removing the false back you'd installed and grabbing your murder kit.

it was a large black purse, fairly unassuming for someone in new york, and especially unassuming with an innocent looking girl like yourself holding it. inside, however, was an assortment of items including knives, pliers, a small hammer, duct tape, and rope, among other things. you threw the bag onto your bed, slipping your shoes on.

you knew exactly who your target would be. dennis hellerman had just been released on parol for the rape of a fourteen year old girl whom he'd left so traumatized that she needed to be admitted to a mental institution after a suicide attempt.

just thinking about what he'd done—let alone the fact that he was released on parol after serving just two years in prison—made your blood boil. you wanted him to feel the fear that she had undoubtedly felt. you wanted him to beg and plead for his life as you pulled each fingernail from his fingers at an agonizingly slow pace, and then, you wanted to kill him.

you stood up, grabbing your purse and heading toward your bedroom door. your boots echoed across the floor as you walked to the front door. you unlocked the deadbolt and the various other locks that you'd installed lining the wood before pulling it open and stepping out. the door slammed behind you with more force than you'd intended, but you didn't care. you simply stuck your key in the lock, turned it, and headed toward the elevators.

the man was living in a homeless shelter for sex offenders which made him extremely easy to find. he was also working a job at a small, understaffed autobody shop. it was almost too easy.

"what's a sweet thing like you doing out this time of night?" his voice came from behind you as you stood bent over behind your car, pretending to be confused.

you had spent a while tracking his every move and devising the perfect place to lure him into your trap. you'd learned that the cameras outside the rundown autobody shop and most of the surrounding buildings didn't work which was oh so convenient for you. it was like the universe was begging you to take care of him.

"oh, hello there," you giggled, putting on your innocent act. "gosh, i am such a ditz when it comes to cars, but i think something's wrong," you pouted, turning back to your car and propping your hands on your hips.

"let me take a look and see if i can fix that for you, darling," he said, flashing you a sleazy smile. "but, it'll cost you."

"oh, sure, anything," you nodded, pretending to be oblivious to his innuendo. if you had any reservations before about what you were going to do—which you didn't—you sure as hell didn't now. "just, please, i really need my car."

he grinned, leering at you in a way that made you want to kill him right there, but you held back. instead, you pointed vaguely to a spot on the back of your car. "i think i see something leaking there."

he hummed, stepping forward to take a look. he leaned down, squinting. "i don't see anything."

"no, i promise just look," you insisted, reaching into your pocket and pulling out s syringe. he kept looking, too preoccupied to notice that you'd stepped behind him. just as he was about to turn around, you stuck the syringe into his neck and pressed down the plunger to send the paralytic into his bloodstream.

he let out a yelp of pain, his hand covering the spot on his neck as you pulled the syringe away. as his limbs started to turn to jello underneath him, you gave him a hard shove forward, making him collapse halfway into your trunk.

you groaned softly as you picked up his lower body, shoving the rest of him into the trunk and closing it. you looked around briefly to make sure no one was around before hopping into your car and driving off to your destination. this was going to be fun.

  "wakey, wakey," you taunted menacingly, slapping his cheek as he stirred awake.

he groaned, his face jerking at the contact. his eyes widened, seeming to sober up as he realized he couldn't move. "what the fuck," he said, his voice urgent as he tried to pull against the ropes.

"how's that working out for you?" you grinned, your eyes gleaming with a sadistic pleasure, and this was only the beginning.

"you bitch," he spat when his eyes landed on you. he tried to lunge at you, but he got pulled back.

you tsked, shaking your head. "you really shouldn't insult someone who holds your life in their hands," you scolded him, motioning to your table of torture equipment that you had laid out.

the man's eyes widened, and you watched as the panic seemed to set in. he was realizing the situation he was in, and you were witnessing it in real time. the sight almost made you groan in pleasure. you loved this part and everything that came after.

he started screaming, shouting for help at the top of his lungs. you rolled your eyes. you did not care for this part.

"god, shut up," you complained, as if his fear was an inconvenience to you. "it's no use. no one can hear you out here."

you had set up shop in an abandoned warehouse near the docks. you did your work here and had your fun, and then, you disposed of the body in a dumpster in the city, discarding your victims like the trash they were.

he stopped screaming, his chest heaving as he glared at you. he was clearly trying to maintain some semblance of control by pretending not to be afraid. "what the fuck do you want?"

"hm," you hummed, picking up a knife and examining it as you pretending to think. "what is it that i want?" you put the knife back down, turning to him as you leaned on the table with your arms crossed. "what do you think i want, dennis?"

"money, drugs, sex? fuck knows," he spat angrily. "you're fucking crazy!"

"maybe," you shrugged, grinning wickedly. "but it's a cruel, cruel world, isn't it?" your smile dropped as you stepped closer, a dark look in your eye. "a world where sick fucks like you get to prey on the innocent and vulnerable without hardly any repercussions for your actions."

"shut up," he glared at you. "you don't know shit."

"oh, please," you laughed humorlessly. "you plead guilty. the whole world knows what you did."

"i was force-" the sound of skin on skin echoed throughout the warehouse as you slapped him. his head whipped to the side, stopping him in the middle of his sentence. he sat there, completely stunned, as a warm, red mark in the shape of your palm started to form on his cheek.

"don't lie to me," you gritted out, stepping back and turning to your table of equipment again. you hummed, deciding which instrument to use first. you were tired of all the talking. you wanted to get to the fun part.

"you little bitch!" he yelled, finally snapping back to reality. he felt the sting on his cheek and fought against the ropes once more. "i'm gonna get out of this, and when i do, you're gonna regret ever meeting me."

"oh, i'm so scared," you said flatly, deciding on a pair of pliers and turning back to him.

his eyes widened at the sight, and you saw his adam's apple bob up and down with the force of his swallow. "w-what are you going to do with those?" he asked, all conviction gone from his tone.

"teeth or nails?" you asked, tapping the pliers lightly against your chin as you raised a brow at him.

"y-you're fucking nuts!" his voice trembled. he thrashed against the restraints, trying desperately to get away, but it was no use.

"pick or i do both," you said coldly, stepping forward until you were right in front of him, so close he could feel your breath on his skin.

"n-nails," he managed to say, and you smirked, reaching out to grab his jaw tightly. you pulled it open, your fingers digging harshly into his cheeks. he yelled out protests that weren't quite decipherable because of his mouth being open, but you were sure you understood the general gist.

"oh, what?" you asked mockingly. "you thought i'd actually let you choose?" you laughed, bringing the pliers up to his mouth and clamping down on one of his molars "this is definitely gonna hurt," you grinned before ripping the tooth out of his mouth forcefully.

he let out a blood-curdling scream that had you smiling even wider, a sick satisfaction washing over your body. it made your nerve endings buzz, the ends of your fingers and toes practically tingling with excitement.

he spat out the blood that was rapidly filling his mouth, the puddle falling at your feet. "please," he begged. "please, stop. i'll do anything!"

"begging already?" you asked incredulously. "i've barely even started." you rolled your eyes, grabbing his hand and holding it still as you clamped the pliers on his fingertip.

"please, don't! please!" he cried out, tears starting to fall from his eyes.

"how pathetic," you scoffed, pulling the pliers up swiftly. a soft crack filled your ears as his bone snapped, causing another loud scream to fall from his lips. you sighed in content. "isn't this so much fun?" you asked, grinning at him.

"you sick bitch!" he cried, his body trembling.

"i'm sick?" you asked, a fire igniting in your eyes as you tossed the pliers to the side, grabbing a knife. "tell me, dennis, did she plead and beg for you to stop?" you sneered. "did she call you a sick bastard, and did you keep going anyway?"

you had intended to save this part for after you were done because you knew he'd bleed out very soon after, but you couldn't help it. your little game of foreplay wasn't satisfying you anymore. you needed to skip right to the main event. his words mixed with the fact that you were already antsy and practically jumping out of your skin to kill again sent you over the edge.

you knew you weren't right in the head. you knew something was wrong with you; you'd known it since you were a little girl, but the implication that you were somehow worse than he was made the little spark of self control you were holding onto fizzle out.

you brought the knife down to his pants, cutting away the fabric. it took a bit of effort to slice through the rough denim, but eventually, you were able to pull it apart, his boxers on display.

"what the fuck are you doing?" he asked, looking down at his lap before looking back up at you. fear was evident in him from the way his voice trembled, his body shook, and the look in his eyes.

"my favorite part," you grinned sinisterly, reaching into his boxers and pulling out his dick. in one practiced motion, you sliced the knife through the base of the sensitive skin, cutting it off of him.

he screamed like he had never screamed before as a white hot, searing pain enveloped his senses. blood poured from the wound, coating his jeans and making them stick to his thighs as it ran down to the floor.

you watched in pure satisfaction as he screamed and jerked against the ropes. a thin layer of sweat formed on his entire body, his face paling as he lost blood at an alarming rate. you knew he'd be dead any minute now, and it made you feel like a god.

you watched as his screams died down to small whimpers and sobs before fading out completely, his mouth hanging open as his eyes glossed over, a faraway look in them. you grinned, taking his appendage and shoving it down his throat before closing his mouth.

you stepped back, admiring your handiwork for a moment before beginning to clean up, just as you had done so many times before. this wasn't your first time, and you intended for it to not be your last, but sometimes, life has other plans.

you discarded him in a dumpster as you usually did before heading home to clean yourself and all your tools off.

it was just like any other kill. you didn't think of it much afterwords; you simply went back to living your life as normal. you went to your boring 9 to 5, and then came home and made dinner while trying not to let that incessant dripping drive you mad. it had gone perfect, just as it always had.

you should've known that your restlessness would have caused problems. your impulsivity had never gotten the better of you like it had that night, and you were going to pay for it.

you thought you had gotten away with it until you opened your apartment door and found three cops with guns pointed at you. it was clearly an inopportune moment to leave. it seemed as if they were planning to kick your door down or something, but you'd caught them off guard.

"problem, officers?" you asked innocently, raising your hands to signal that you weren't going to cause any trouble. there were two women—one with brown hair and the other blonde—and one man, who had his hair cut close to his scalp.

"turn around, slowly," the male officer ordered, his gun and stern expression trained on you. you slowly turned your back to them, keeping your hands up.

you felt someone grab your wrist, pulling it behind your back. cold metal locked around one wrist and then the other. "you have the right to remain silent..." one of the female officers began reading you your rights.

"yes, yes, i understand," you said as she finished reading them off and pulled you out of the apartment, leading you to the elevator. the other two went inside your apartment, presumably to search for evidence.

you played through the events in your head. how did they find you? none of your victims ever had any personal connection to you, and you were very careful to prevent any dna contamination.

though, truthfully, you knew that was impossible. locard's principle stated that when two objects came in contact, there would always be a transfer of material, so there was no way to ensure without a shadow of a doubt that you hadn't left some kind of evidence behind on the bodies.

you sat alone in the cop car for awhile, more police and crime scene techs showing up to use their fancy little black lights on your apartment.

you knew you were probably caught, but it didn't bother you much. you knew you couldn't get away with it forever. it was only a matter of time until you got caught, and to be honest with yourself, you were surprised you lasted as long as you did.

finally, you were driven back to the police station. you got your mug shot taken and got fingerprinted, all the while maintaining a calm and collected demeanor that had the police around you on edge. you had, allegedly, killed upwards of twenty men, and here you were in police cutody, brushing this whole situation off with an eerie ease.

one of the officers in uniform grabbed your arm, pulling you toward an interrogation room. your eyes swept the station as he did so, taking in every detail that you could manage. the brain receives about 11 million bits of information per second but can only consciously process around 40 to 50, meaning you had to try and focus to obtain the important things.

you saw a board with various pictures of your victims plastered on it. one picture in particular caught your eye. it was of your license plate. it was taken far away and undoubtedly at the same location that you'd dumped your last body. that was where your recklessness had screwed you.

he pushed you into the interrogation room, telling you to sit down and wait before leaving quickly. you rolled your eyes, taking a seat in the uncomfortable metal chair. you had seen movies and tv shows. you knew they were going to leave you in there for a while to try and make you sweat.

of course, it didn't work. you had accepted your fate. besides, you had an odd ability to be calm and collected in situations that normal people otherwise wouldn't be.

your head was tilted back, gaze staring up at the ceiling with a bored expression on your face. the sound of the door opening had you immediately looking toward the source, watching as a man entered the room with a manilla folder in his hand—a file.

the approached the table, his tie slightly loosened, and his sleeves rolled up. he wordlessly pulled out the chair across from you and sat down, placing the folder on the table between you two. he examined your expression and body language curiously.

"detective," you greeted him with a small nod. you scanned him appreciatively. you hadn't expected to get grilled by someone so attractive. his brown hair was gelled neatly to the side, and his rolled up sleeves showed off his forearms. he had piercing blue eyes that studied you with an intense gaze. you figured that if you were anyone else, that stare would unnerve you.

he met your gaze, those hardened baby blue eyes searching yours for some hint of remorse, madness, anything, but all he saw was cold calculation and a hint of amusement.

he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. "why don't you tell me why you did it?" he proposed, scanning every inch of you that he could see with an intrigued expression.

"did what?" you asked innocently, mirroring his actions of leaning forward and resting your elbows on the table. you furrowed your brows in faux confusion.

his eyes narrowed slightly. "you know exactly what i'm talking about. the murders. the bodies. the fact that every single one of your victims was a convicted rapist." he opened the folder and pulled out a photograph, slamming it down on the table in front of you.

you raised an eyebrow, gaze drifting down to the photograph. it was of one of your earlier victims—gerald windsor. he had been a serial rapist whose conviction was overturned after only six months because of a technicality with the dna evidence.

you let out a low whistle, leaning back against the chair and crossing your arms over your chest. "that's brutal. i hope you find who did it." you looked back at him, a smirk tugging at your lips.

he felt a shiver run down his spine at your nonchalance, your calm acceptance of the horrors you'd committed. he studied your face, trying to understand the motivations behind your actions. "you're not even sorry, are you?" he asked incredulously.

"well, hypothetically, if i had committed these murders," you grinned, skirting around evidence of a confession by calling it a hypothetical. "no, i don't suppose i would be sorry. i mean, you did say they were rapists, right?"

his jaw tightened, a muscle twitching. he couldn't help but feel a sense of fascination, a morbid curiosity that pulled him in despite his best efforts to remain professional. "and that gives you the right to play judge, jury, and executioner?"

"technically, if i killed them, i would've just been playing executioner because they were already convicted rapists," you shrugged nonchalantly, as if you were just talking about the weather or your weekend plans. "but, you know, semantics."

he felt a surge of anger, mixed with a dark, twisted admiration. you were playing with him, toying with his emotions and his sense of justice. and yet, he couldn't look away. "so, you're saying you think you're doing a public service? like-like some sort of hero?"

"not a hero, no," you shook your head. you did understand the difference between right and wrong. you knew you were no hero, that you were a cold-blooded murderer. you just didn't care. "but a public service? absolutely."

he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. you were a dangerous game to play, and he knew it. but, he couldn't help himself. he wanted to understand you, to peel back the layers of your psyche and see what made you tick. "and you have no remorse? no guilt? nothing?"

"bad people deserve it when bad things happen to them," you replied cryptically, your gaze unwavering as you stared him down.

his brows furrowed, a sense of frustration building inside him. he wanted clear, concise answers, not riddles. "and who decides who's 'bad', huh? you? you're playing god, doling out punishment as you see fit. how is that any different from them?"

"don't compare me to them" you said sharply, your calm demeanor slipping slightly, allowing anger to rise to the surface. you may not have been a saint, but you were nothing like those monsters. you didn't hurt innocent people, and murder was a far cry from rape.

he zeroed in on your reaction, filing it away for later. he knew he'd touched a nerve, and he intended to exploit it. "then explain to me the difference because from where i'm sitting, you're no better than the men you've killed."

your jaw clenched as you glared at him "allegedly killed," you corrected him, trying to maintain some semblance of control. you knew what he was playing at, and you didn't want to let him win. you would tell him what he wanted to know... eventually, but it had to be on your terms.

he leaned forward, his eyes locked onto yours. he could see the anger simmering beneath the surface, the barely-leashed fury, and he felt a perverse sense of satisfaction in knowing that he'd finally gotten under your skin. "alright, then. allegedly," he conceeded.

"rape and murder are two very different beasts," you responded ambiguously, once again giving a vague answer to a direct question.

he sighed, running a hand through meticulously styled hair in frustration, slightly tousling it. your vague answers were driving him crazy. he needed concrete evidence, something he could use to build a case against you, but you seemed determined to keep him guessing. they had an eyewitness that took a photo of your license plate, but she didnt actually see anything that would help the case tremendously. "let me put it this way then."

"put it any way you want, pretty boy," you grinned confidently, his frustration making you feel extremely satisfied.

he bristled at the nickname but pushed through. "if you didn't murder these men, then prove it. give me an alibi, something that'll take you out of the equation. anything."

"well, i'd have to know when the murders were committed to be able to provide an alibi, wouldn't i?" you asked, smart enough to not let his question trip you up. if you didn't kill them, you obviously wouldn't know which days to have an alibi for.

he nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. he knew you were stalling, but he was willing to play along—for now. "the first murder was on a tuesday night in december, around ten pm. the second was a thursday morning in january, around six am."

you leaned forward, resting your elbows on the table as you hummed thoughtfully, pretending to dig through your memory for those days. "i'm afraid my alibi won't help much. i was home, alone, as i am most days and nights" you gave him a sympathetic look. "sorry i couldn't be more help."

his face darkened, and he felt a surge of annoyance. you were toying with him, and he didn't like it. "you expect me to believe that you have no witnesses to confirm your whereabouts? no neighbors who might've seen you come or go?" he pressed you, eyes narrowing with skepticism.

you shrugged, your lips curving into a small smile. "i'm not a social gal."

he leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest as he regarded you with a critical eye. he didn't believe you. hs knew you were hiding something, and he was determined to uncover the truth. "so, you're telling me that there's nobody who can vouch for you?"

"nope," you answered simply, shaking your head. the fact that you had no alibi did little to rattle you.

His jaw clenched, and he felt a growing sense of unease. you were too calm, too collected. it was almost as if you wanted him to think you were guilty. "you know what i think?" he said, his voice low and dangerous. "i think you're enjoying this."

"now that's just crazy," you gasped softly, feigning shock. "who in their right mind would enjoy getting interrogated for murder?"

he ignored your mock innocence. "someone who likes playing games. someone who gets off on the thrill of skirting the line between right and wrong," he leaned forward, his eyes boring into yours. "someone like you."

"well, you've just got me all figured out, huh?" you asked, grinning as you leaned back, crossing your arms over your chest again.

he felt a wave of frustration wash over him. you were enjoying this, reveling in the back-and-forth game, and he hated it. he hated being played. "this isn't a game," he said through gritted teeth.

"life is a game, sweetheart," you said condescendingly, rolling your eyes. "you just have to know how to play."

he slammed his fist on the table, making you jump slightly, but not out of fear, just surprise. the sudden outburst caught you off guard, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of the anger and frustration he'd been holding back. "listen to me," he said, his voice low and intense.

"now, we're getting somewhere," you grinned, enjoying his surge of emotion. you sat up straight, suddenly very interested.

he took a deep breath, struggling to regain his composure. he couldn't let you bait him like that. he had to stay focused, no matter how infuriating you were. "i'm not going to let you toy with me," he said, his voice measured and controlled.

"oh, but you already have." your smile widened as you observed him trying to reign in his anger. "i've been toying with you since the moment you walked in that door."

his jaw clenched, and he could feel the anger rising once more. but then, he saw it—a small, satisfied smile playing on your lips—and it hit him. "you want me to lose my temper, don't you?"

"and you want me to lose mine," you shot back, tilting your head as you stared at him.

he unclenched his jaw, relaxing his face as he mirrored your pose. "it doesn't matter if i lose my temper. you're still going away for the rest of your life."

you shrugged nonchalantly, seeming completely unperturbed by his threats. "maybe, maybe not"

he bristled at your nonchalant response. you acted as if you had some ace up your sleeve, some secret card you hadn't played yet, and it unnerved him. he had to press on, had to break through your smug facade. "you're running out of time."

"I think you're the one running out of time, detective," you smiled, like you knew something he didn't. "see, once this game of ours gets boring—which it's starting to—well..." you sighed for dramatic effect. "well, then, i can just say those four little words, and your little interrogation is over." you knew you had the upper hand with being able to request your lawyer and stop his questioning at any time.

"you're not going to say them," he said confidently. you needed this. this little cat-and-mouse game was a different kind of exhilarating to you, and he knew you weren't ready to let it go just yet.

"oh, i'm not?" you asked, your eyebrows raising at his boldness. he truly was an intriguing man, and you were enjoying your little chat just as much as he thought you were.

he sat back in his chair again, crossing his arms over his chest as he studied you. he was calling your bluff, and you knew it. "no. because you're having too much fun," he said, a small, smug smile playing on his lips. "you like this."

you grinned, impressed by how well he had read you. "well, done, detective," you praised him. "you're smarter than you look."

he felt a surge of satisfaction at your praise, which only annoyed him further. he shouldn't care whether you thought he was smart or not. this was a power play, nothing more. "and you're not as clever as you think you are," he shot back.

"ouch," you said, placing your hand over your heart and feigning hurt. he watched, irritated, as you exaggeratedly winced, dramatically clutching at your chest. "oh, the pain. shot down by the nice detective. how will I ever recover?" your mocking tone only served to fuel his frustration.

he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. he couldn't let you get to him like this. he had to stay focused, had to break through your defenses. "you know what I think?" he said, his voice steady and controlled. "i think you're scared."

"scared?" you laughed, taken aback by his claim. you couldn't imagine where he could have possibly got that idea. "oh, you could not be farther off the mark"

"you're scared that i'll figure it out," he continued, leaning forward. "you're scared that i'll solve this case before you get bored of our game. because then, you'll have nothing. no more cat-and-mouse, just a life sentence in prison, and you're terrified of that."

"oh, detective," you grinned, shaking your head. "i'm not scared of anything. i accepted my fate a long time ago."

his eyes narrowed as he studied your expression, searching for any hint of weakness or dishonesty, but you seemed entirely too calm, too confident. he didn't like it. "accepted your fate, huh?" he repeated, his voice dripping with skepticism. "then why are you still denying what you did?"

"you really want me to do your job for you?" you scoffed, rolling your eyes. "where's the fun in that?"

he sighed, rubbing his temples in frustration. you were playing with him, dancing just out of reach, and it was driving him crazy. he opened his mouth again to speak, but a knock on the two-way glass stopped him. that was his signal to leave.

"aw," you pouted, feigning sadness. "looks like our time is up."

"for now," he said curtly, pushing his chair back as he stood up, the sound of the metal legs scraping the floor echoing through the little room. he straightened his tie, giving you one last look before turning to leave.

you watched him go, gaze lingering on his ass as a smirk tugged at your lips. you knew his squad was watching from behind the glass. they had pulled him out because you were clearly having too much fun with him.

as he walked out of the room, he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just been outmaneuvered. he glanced back at you through the glass, his expression unreadable.

"think she's gearing up for the insanity defense?" detective fin tutuola asked, staring at your calm, almost bored expression.

he shook his head. "she's just playing us," carisi said, his voice tight with frustration. "and she's good at it." he watched as you leaned back in your chair, your eyes closed. "too good." he paused, then added, "we need to be better."

"alright, well," lieutenant benson sighed, turning to the blonde detective. "rollins, you're up. see if you can get her to give anything up."

he glanced at rollins, then back to you. he didn't like the idea of someone else taking over the interview, but he knew benson was right. they needed to switch things up, keep you off balance. "be careful," he warned rollins. "she's slippery."

you opened your eyes at the sound of the door opening again. your head lolled to the side, and you regarded the blonde with disinterest as you watched her enter, closing the door behind her.

"hey," rollins said, pulling out the chair carisi had just vacated. she sat down, her blue eyes studying you carefully. "I'm detective rollins. i'll be talking to you today." she paused, waiting for your response.

"uh huh," you hummed. you seemed completely indifferent to her presence, your body language languid and unconcerned.

rollins frowned, noticing how easily you seemed to brush her off. she tried a different tactic, pulling out a photo from the evidence file. "i want to show you something," she said, setting the photo on the table in front of you. "recognize this person?"

"nope," you said, not even glancing at the photograph. you weren't interested in playing with her. you had your sights set on that other detective, and if you weren't going to be allowed to talk to him, you didn't want to talk at all.

rollins gritted her teeth, annoyed by your nonchalance. she slid the photo closer, insistent. "look at it," she demanded. "it's important."

"yknow what," you hummed, smiling confidently. you leaned forward, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "i think i'd like my lawyer now."

rollins sighed, frustrated. she hadn't even gotten anywhere with you, and now you were invoking your right to a lawyer. she gathered up the photo and the file, standing up. "fine," she said, her voice tight. "we'll do this the hard way."

you watched as she left with a smug smile, leaning back in your chair again and closing your eyes as you waited for your lawyer to arrive, satisfied with how you'd sufficiently pissed off the new york police department.

[jewishjon]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[teojira]

I saw that you had transformers on your fandom list, will you be willing to write a 'bot of choice x human reader jealousy/protectiveness fic? Like in that one scene from Transformers 2 where the Deception Pretender tried to seduce Sam but Bee absolutely wasn't having that but had to stay in car mode?

[Aren't you supposed to be more mature than this?]

Summary: Optimus knows better than to get attached to you (too late), he can't help but side eye you and a stranger interacting. (Based on Knightverse Optimus, after ROTB!)

Word count: 800+ words!

Pronouns: They/them

Warnings: Optimus is bad at feelings, Optimus being down bad, extremely self indulgent. Mainly Optimus' Pov as well! Lmk if I need to tag anything!

A/N: Everyone who knows me knows of my obsession and love for this man it's so bad, I have him tattooed and have a whole ass shrine I love HIMMM, Thank you sm for the request! He is the love of my life.

Optimus Prime has been called many things, many of which are true, things he'd accept with pride.

A great leader, a good friend, a valuable teammate, A war criminal.

A jealous bot was never one of them, until recently.

He wasn't sure when he started to take a shine towards you. Was it after Unicron? When he held you in his servos, cradling you to his chest as he transformed back into his bipedal form, only letting go of you after the confused looks from Bee and Mirage.

Maybe it was a while after that, when you offered to help clean him up, Noah was too busy rebuilding Mirage to offer his services to the big man himself.

Optimus could never wipe the feeling of your small hands gently running across his frame, taking extra care to mend any scratches you found, constantly checking in to make sure he was comfortable.

He's ashamed to admit, but he kept shuddering under your touch, his senses overwhelmed by your presence. Every time his cooling fans turned on, he'd wave it off as it was just hot outside. (it's 60 degrees out, liar.)

He tries to recharge that night, but the feeling in his chassis makes him restless. He can see his sensors go haywire at the mere thought of you. He is so fucked, he shuts his eyes and groans deeply, his mask shooting up to mask the sound, lest he wakes the others.

Primus help him.

With his new revelation, Optimus tries his best to distance himself towards you, always making excuses as to why he can't drive you home or to work (a flicker of jealously when Arcee offers, no one catches his digits curling ever so slightly into his palm), saying he must go on patrol for the time being. He waves you off when you try and care for him, asking if he'd like any help with any scrapes and dents, saying he can live with them, he's been through worse.

Its only natural that you'd give him some space, that's the kind of person you are, kind, loving, respectful, loyal to a fault, but it doesn't escape his notice when your smile falls after he politely tells you you're not needed, his spark aching when you turn around to go find another bot.

Optimus watches you now, stationed on the street.

He has no right to be upset when you're stopped outside of the garage by an older man, the man so clearly taking interest in you while you're very politely listening and nodding, shooting that oh so pretty smile to a man who he's sure is not fit to be anywhere near you, not worthy of the warm smile you wear.

It makes him seethe in jealousy, and it's scary.

He can not remember a time when he had ever been jealous. He's a prime. He was supposed to be a calm and collected leader and yet. And yet, he's so close to blowing his hor-

You suddenly whirl towards him. If he was any better of a man, he wouldn't immediately think of how cute you looked, how your lips moved as you let out a yelp.

It isn't until that thought passes his mind that he realizes he used his truckers horn. Embarrassment trickles through his body, although now he has your attention, and you are making your way towards him. The man following behind you keeps the conversation going, not catching a hint.

Optimus is ready to honk again, especially if this man keeps following so close behind you, way too close for comfort.

You beat him to it, turning around as you rest a hand on Optimus’ cabins door handle, shooting the man a polite smile.

“Sorry about that, but my husband is actually here to pick me up, so I have to go. Have a good day!” And You hoist yourself up, quickly buckling your seat belt, gently patting the dashboard in hopes Optimus fucking drives before you're bothered anymore.

Optimus’ processor buffers, his engine revving as he goes on autopilot to tale you both away. Does he know where to drive to? Certainly no, but you're with him now. He's sure you could ask him to take you to distant planets, and he'd make it work for you and only you.

“Thank you for the save, big guy.” You smile brightly at his steering wheel, your eyes lovingly trailing across the autobot symbol that sits in the center.

“It was nothing, I am glad to be there to assist.” The cabin rumbles with his voice, soothing your anxiety. You curl into your seat, resting your head.

“Where are we going?”

“If I'm not mistaken, you mentioned wanting to go to upstate New York to drive along some scenic routes? I'll gladly be your escort.”

He is so ridiculously falling for you, but he can't bring himself to hate it, especially when you excitedly hop in your seat.

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏᴏɴ!

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍: Office Sex w/ Aaron Hotchner

a/n: okay, why do i kind of love this? i've been a little under the weather recently so kinktober updates will be a little slow and probably off by a day or two but i'm trying!

masterlist | kinktober masterlist | AO3

You make Aaron act out of character.

He doesn't do PDA, nor is he an insatiable man, but he often finds himself thinking of you and the curves of your soft body. 

He can barely focus knowing that there was no else in your unit besides you and him. You were down there in the bullpen tempting him with your presence, lingering at your desk doing paperwork as well. 

The clock ticked tauntingly, signaling that the time had struck 12 AM. 

He felt his hands twitch, the one clad with a pen turning almost white. There was no one else here and he needed you. Badly. Technically it wasn't unprofessional because the two of you were in a consenting sexual relationship, and it was after hours.

You couldn't focus knowing that Aaron was up there, the deep orange glow of his desk lamp bleeding through his barely opened blinds. Your core ached and your stomach tightened with indescribable need. There were only so many times that you could cross your legs and squeeze your thighs against your sex before you got restless.

You hadn't realized how deeply you'd zoned out before your eyes met with your boss's, who peered down at you from the top of the staircase.

He called your name, "I'd like to see you in my office for a moment." Was all he said before departing back through the door ajar he left ajar.

You tried to hide how fast you had gotten out of your chair, though the length in which it shot away from your person was a dead giveaway. Your shame melted away when your foot met the first step, descending up the stairwell in a hurried manner.

You hadn't even had the chance to enter through the door before Aaron's large, warm hand gripped you by your wrist, pulling you into the room before shutting the hardwood with your body.

"Aaron!" You yelped in surprise. "Need you." Was all he mumbled before slamming his lips down onto yours, hands gripping at your waist. Your eyes quickly fluttered shut, your nails digging into his hair to keep him anchored to you. 

His tongue forced its way into your mouth, nearly shoving itself down your throat in an attempt to swallow you whole. A loud whimper crawled out of your throat and into Aaron's, the man swallowing it with lustful fervor. Your lungs were constricting in pain at the lack of air, spit bubbling at the corner of both your lips due to the sloppy makeout session.

You had to yank his head away from yours to swallow lungfuls of air.

"I wondered how long it was going to take you to come and get me." You said breathlessly. "I didn't come early enough." He said with the same amount of breathlessness. "Good thing were the only ones here, huh?" You teased with a slightly wolfish smile on your face. "Yeah, good thing." He said before joining your lips together again.

He was careful as he swayed you over to his desk, carelessly knocking things out the way so he could sit you upon it. You jolted at the sound but nonetheless kept your lips locked with his, your fingers making quick work to push his suit jacket off his body. 

Your pencil skirt was tight around your thighs, but that didn't stop him from forcing it up your hips. Your panty clad lower body was now exposed to his frisky touches, a large palm coming to cup your sex.

You gasped, arching your back slightly, your grip on his tie tightening. 

"Fuck…" You whined, gyrating your hips desperately in an attempt to grind down on the skin. "That feel good, sweetheart?" He asked roughly, his voice strained with need. "So good, baby." He watched you feebly try to get friction, only to see you grow frustrated. 

"Aaron please— 'Need you to fuck me now." You begged, yanking at his tie in an attempt to undo it. His bushy brows furrowed, "Are you sure?" He asked unsurely. "Yes, I'm sure. I know you can feel how wet I am, please…" To emphasize your point, you took it upon yourself to shove his hand down your panties, the pads of his fingers gliding over your soaked folds.

"Okay, okay," He reassured you with gritted teeth, his voice strained. "I got you, honey." He could feel his self-control chip away at every exposure of your boldness. 

He unbuckled his pants, sliding the leather out of their loops before unzipping his and successfully ridding himself of his slacks. You shucked your panties down your full thighs, the lace getting caught on your high heel for a short moment before fully slipping off.

He spread open your legs.

"Goddamn, sweetheart." He murmured in fascination. The sight of your glistening labia made his cock pulse. He felt the same sense of urgency that he felt not only minutes earlier rush through him. The fire in his veins coaxed him out of his underwear, hand stroking his cock to full hardness.

"Can I?" He asked. "Yes." You breathed.

With a teasing tap of his tip to your clit, he prodded at your entrance, slowly slipping into you. You moaned loudly, nails coming to dig at his button-up covered shoulders.

"Aaron baby…" You mewled, walls clenching down on him in an attempt to suck him deeper. "Shit." He choked on a curse. He pushed farther before completely bottoming out.

"Move! I need you to move." You cried. Who was he to deny you?

Pulling out swiftly, he slammed into you. Your legs tightened around his waist as he set a brutal pace. You leaned back on your elbows, neck extended and exposed. If only Aaron could bend down to mark up your pretty, soft skin.

Your heel was hanging on by a thread on the tips of your toes, with each rattle of your body when he fucked into you threatened to knock the damn thing off.

"You look so gorgeous, honey. So fucking pretty." He groaned. The feral noise drove you closer to your end, along with each jab of his tip to your g-spot. 

"You're so deep, Aaron, fuck!" The coil in your gut was tightening dangerously. He raised your hips a bit and that sent you reeling, a pornographic moan tearing through your throat and piercing through the serene air of his office.

Usually when you got this loud in places where you could get caught, he'd slap a hand over your mouth, but he didn't bother, because there was no one there. There was something erotic and scandalous about the fact that he was fucking you in his office where he'd have meetings or interviews. 

Just thinking about the fact that no one would know what happened here besides the two of you sent his hips pistoning into you harder; his eyebrows furrowing.

"Gah! I- I'm gonna cum!" You squealed, nails attempting to grip onto the wood of his sleek, dark mahogany desk. You didn't care if there'd be marks there.

"Please can I cum?" You asked through the blinding pleasure that nipped and frayed at your nerves. You couldn't bring yourself to disobey him because of how needy and demanding you've been since you'd gotten here.

"You can cum, my sweet girl." He grunted, a bead of sweat running down his temple. 

With a few more strokes your orgasm overtook you. Your body shook uncontrollably, your eyes screwing shut at the feeling as you creamed all over his dick.

His thrusts grew sloppy before he slumped forward, emptying himself inside of you. The warmth of him made you shiver, your womb feeling nice and full. He stopped his thrusting when he heard tiny whimpers of overstimulation leave you.

"You okay?" Aaron asked gently. You nodded, your chest heaving up and down.

"Can we go on the couch next?" You asked through a sleepy smirk.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @murdadixon @hallecarey1 @zippertwat @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus

[vilsoo]

using the safeword with toji

tags. rough dom → soft dom toji, fem coded reader, lots of fluff, domesticity, hurt/comfort, protectiveness, body worship, passionate toji, hardcore fucking → soft safe sex, reassurance, cuddling, intimate aftercare.

notes. ib this audio 🎧 (nsfw, headphones required) we need to start seeing soft toji some more 🤧😩

you didn’t mean any harm. all you were doing was sending some flirty texts and pictures to your husband while he was away at work. you missed him so much and thought about him all day, all needy for his attention. but when he finally came home, his reaction was not what you were expecting at all…

“the fuck were you thinking? you know my boss almost saw your pictures, right? and if i had to get up from my desk, that fucker could’ve seen what you do to me. you know how humiliating that could’ve been for me?”

the way toji slightly raised his voice at you sent a shiver down your spine. you could feel the outer edges of your motionless body tensing up with fear and this painful amount of culpability. not even over petty arguments in the past had this man so angry until now. you could feel yourself choking and aching with guilt, your nose flaring immensely it was almost hard to breathe. as if you were going to cry. but if you did cry, it would make you look like a victim. toji could’ve gotten fired and it all could’ve been because of you. you should’ve thought twice or at least resist those temptations before sending…

“i— i’m so sorry, toji,” you lamented. “i didn’t mean to humiliate you at work like that. i was just…”

“you were just what, hm?” his voice lowered to an ominous tone when he stepped closer to you. “trying to get a rise out of me when i’m working? distracting me like some desperate slut wanting my attention?”

you didn’t respond at all. instead you faltered your gaze down at the bedroom floor, ashamed to look into his eyes. after a long silence with the uncomfortable tension still lingering in the air, toji inched closer and held your face, craning your neck up to see the long face you were giving him.

“you expected me to come home all worked up for you so i could take you on right here. ain’t that what you wanted this whole time from me?”

you still didn’t reply with anything and toji sighed, shaking his head in disbelief. “you almost got me in trouble today, sweetheart. i take my job seriously and you know that. but you still wanted to tease me at work. that’s just fuckin’ unforgivable of you to embarrass me like that.”

“but… that’s not what i was trying to do,” you consoled, placing your hand above his and slanting your head into his palm.

“aww. you think you’re so fuckin’ cute innocently sending those pics and thinkin’ there won’t be some consequences. i’ll make you fucking regret that.”

your heart raced erratically from the baritone in toji’s voice. although you secretly loved him speaking this way in your ear, it would be better if he was dirty talking. but instead he was furious and a little unhinged that it scared you shitless.

“strip for me then get on the fuckin’ bed. face down. ass up.”

you didn’t dare disobey since you didn’t want to frustrate him more. after slipping off your clothes and climbing on top of the bed in the desired position, you watch as he unbottons off his dress shirt and positions himself behind you to eat your pussy while slapping your ass so harshly, emitting whines and screams out of you. toji kept sucking and devouring your aching cunt like a greedy man with restless hunger. you can hear him humming in amusement while doing so. although you were in need of this the whole day, the man goes insane whenever he has the chance to eat your pussy. with all that frustration and anger pent up, your thighs kept shuddering from the immense pleasure you were getting off of. he kept squeezing and slapping your ass so rough it felt like your skin was burning. all while ruining you to a shattering, creamy orgasm all over his mouth.

but just when you thought everything was fine after you came, toji was still frustrated. greedy, even. “where do you think you’re going? i didn’t fuckin’ say i was done with you. stay with your ass in the air for me like a good girl.”

your sweet arousal from before now became terse since you were suddenly frightened at toji’s ultimatum. although you didn’t deny it felt like ecstasy with him sliding his fat cock inside you just as always, him immediately fucking you rough like how a hound takes a bitch made you tear up. he was still furious, grunting and subtly growling while roughly smacking his hips on your ass. the way he’s pounding himself inside you had you biting onto the pillow and rolling your eyes back until that gut feeling in your stomach hit you. it felt good but at the same time it didn’t…

“fuck. please, toji! i— i can’t take it!” you whined out loud, contorting your face on the pillow.

“what was that?” toji huffed out. “you can’t take it? aw, baby. you can take more than this.”

he continued pounding inside you that your head started feeling cloudy. more tears welled in your eyes and stained the pillowcases along with your drool that he noticed, hefting a chuckle.

“see? you like takin’ my fat cock the way you like it. your pussy was made for it. got you crying and screaming from how good i make you feel.”

you were in such distress that you started to not feel the pleasurable sensation anymore. instead, you lingered on the overwhelming fear and anticipation taking over. how fucking terrified you were of toji, a much bigger and stronger man, breaking you this way because of how angry you made him today. slamming himself into you as a punishment for distracting him at work. he even took his work tie and wrapped it around your head to blindfold you, embraced by nothing except the dark. a frightening void that made you physically shiver. at this point, you felt insufferable.

“toji, it’s— it’s scary when i— i can’t see you…”

toji grunted, slowing his pace down so he wouldn’t finish too quickly. “aww. you’re scared because you can’t see my face? you think it’s scary that i’m like some wild fuckin’ demon slamming my cock inside you? well it’s supposed to be scary.”

all of a sudden your body fell numb, left with only tears and miserable sobs that toji took as sobs of pleasure. and this all happened because of you and your neediness. you knew you weren’t doing anything wrong, but at the same time you should’ve thought twice before disturbing toji while working. there was so much guilt weighing down on you it left you helpless.

“toji, i’m so sorry… please— please stop…”

the man slowed down again, this time releasing the hard pressure of his hand pinning your head down and leaning forward to mutter in your ear. “you’re sorry, huh? aw, sorry ain’t getting you nowhere right now. i’m not gonna fuckin’ stop ‘till i make sure you learn your damn lesson.”

you tried so hard mentally sheltering yourself. you can feel the tie, the pillowcase, and your cheeks stained in watery blots of your helpless tears. it felt as if you were stranded alone and taunted by unnecessary, insecure thoughts deteriorating your wellbeing. you tried so hard keeping yourself together to pleasure your husband in an angry state you’ve never seen before, begging forgiveness and sympathizing with him, but you were reduced to numbness. it felt as if the world around you was blurred including the sex. you suddenly resorted to something you never in a million years would ever do; the safeword.

“ramen,” you weakly uttered, collapsing your whole body and curling up like a ball while sobbing. toji immediately stopped after he processed what you just said, noticing your distress his heart entirely ached seeing you like this.

“oh, fuck. hey, hey, hey— it’s alright, baby. it’s okay,” he murmured fondly, rushing over to hover above you and check if you were hurt. he swiftly removes the tie and gently holds your face, grazing his thumb on your cheeks. your eyes were still closed and your face was contorted from your internal agony.

“i’m sorry,” you whimpered again, followed by toji shushing you.

“no, it’s okay. it’s okay,” he quickly reassured, softly kissing your face and caressing you. “it’s me that should be saying sorry, baby. i didn’t realize…”

you slowly opened your eyes at him, your vision blurred from the tears still welling. “i didn’t mean to…”

“no, no, no. i’m glad you used the safeword. i would never, never want to hurt you. i care a lot about you and i want you to feel safe… you mean so much to me.”

toji presses soft kisses over your face and you couldn’t stop crying and sniffling. “my poor baby,” he consoled sweetly, wiping your tears away with his thumb. “got too intense for you, huh? it’s okay, love. you’re gonna be okay with me.”

“i thought you were mad at me…”

“no, baby… i’m not mad at you. i never was. i got a little carried away, that’s all.”

toji kisses you a couple times more on your face, then on your lips. you find yourself smiling weakly and feeling some kind of warmth in your heart seeing this side of toji once again. after kissing a couple more times for reassurance and comfort, you watch as toji lays right next to you, pulling the covers over you and bringing you closer to lay on his chest. you felt a sudden wash of relief after the tension had finally died down.

“…i’m sorry if i was being too mean back there,” toji mutters while caressing your skin. “i never had a problem with you sending photos to me while i’m working. it’s not your fault, i promise. i was just frustrated.”

you sniffled. “what got you frustrated?”

“my boss. he got mad that i was on my phone. really, i was just staring at your cute ass all over my screen.”

you lightly chuckled. “you actually liked the pics?”

“oh, baby. i loved them all,” toji beamed, kissing the top of your head. “it was unexpected of you, but that’s what turned me the fuck on more… i couldn’t wait to discipline you at home, but i didn’t mean for it to get that bad.”

after hearing his words of reassurance, you started tearing up again, which he immediately noticed. “don’t cry, baby. i love you so much. you’re perfect.”

for awhile you laid on his chest, taking in his addicting cologne as he has you in his arms. you love the way he holds you like this especially after sex. you feel much safer and protected from any negative thoughts and embraced his warmth. you felt like falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat. hearing him also mumble words of affirmation and never taking his hands off to caress you. he was always this gentle with you it made your heart throb. he wants to make sure you feel safe again and you love him for that. and cuddling like this always ends with a nap and starts with something much more intimate…

the next few hours, toji woke up to the feeling of your warmth coursing through his body it intensified. your ass pressed against his dick it grew hard again for you. waking up and kissing him from behind felt like heaven on earth. it was the very moment the rush consumes you and energy pulls light out of everything around. such love is full of excitement and desire, released to fill each other with happiness. you loved the passion flowing and every expression of toji’s love for you. you’re enamored, you’re downing in every crazy feeling this man makes you feel ‘till you go fervent. this was love-making, this was what you’ve been craving the entire night…

ALL WORKS BELONG TO VILSOO © . do not steal, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works outside tumblr.

[bookwormjust]

Imagine: Azriel’s Anger and Tender Care

The townhouse was quiet, the sun setting behind the mountains of Velaris, casting the city in a warm, golden glow. You lay curled up in your bed, the sheets tangled around you as another wave of pain rippled through your lower abdomen. The blood cycle for a fae was no small inconvenience; it was a brutal, relentless agony that left you feeling drained and raw. You had spent the past few days in and out of restless sleep, trying to endure the pain without letting it spill into the bond you shared with Azriel.

You knew he was away on a mission—one that required his full attention and skill. The last thing you wanted was to distract him with the visceral suffering of your cycle. So, you buried the pain deep, locking it behind a wall within your mind, hoping to shield him from the worst of it. You had become adept at masking your side of the bond, keeping the aches and discomfort at bay whenever he tried to reach out. You didn't want him worrying when he had bigger things to focus on.

But as the days dragged on, your strength waned. The pain was a constant companion, sharp and unyielding, and no amount of hot water bottles or herbal teas could ease the discomfort that wracked your body. You hadn’t left the house, save for a quick trip to the kitchen to grab some bread and fruit when you could muster the energy. Your wings ached, heavy and stiff from lack of movement, and every breath felt like a test of endurance.

You were so lost in the haze of your pain that you didn’t hear Azriel return. The sound of the door opening was muffled, your senses dulled by exhaustion. But the moment he stepped into the house, you felt his presence, a comforting warmth brushing against your mind. He was back—safe, sound, and home.

Azriel’s footsteps were quiet as he made his way through the townhouse, but you could feel the tension in him, the way his shadows flitted restlessly around him as if sensing something amiss. He paused at the doorway to your room, his silhouette framed by the soft light spilling in from the hallway.

“Y/N?” he called softly, his voice tinged with concern as he took in the sight of you curled up on the bed, your face pale and drawn.

You tried to sit up, forcing a smile despite the pain that rippled through your abdomen. “Azriel, you’re home,” you said, your voice strained but grateful. You tried to mask the discomfort, but even you could hear the faint quiver in your tone.

Azriel stepped closer, his sharp eyes narrowing as he took in the scene before him—the uneaten food on the bedside table, the way you were clutching your stomach, the fatigue etched into every line of your face. His shadows darted around you, their touch cool and soothing as they brushed against your skin, sensing the pain you were trying so desperately to hide.

“You’ve been like this the whole time?” he asked, his voice low and tightly controlled, though you could hear the simmering anger beneath his calm exterior.

You nodded reluctantly, biting your lip. “It’s just my cycle,” you admitted softly. “It’s been… rough this time, but I didn’t want to bother you. You had the mission, and I—”

Azriel’s jaw clenched, his wings shifting slightly in a way that betrayed his frustration. “You didn’t want to bother me?” he repeated, his voice rising just enough to show the edge of his anger. “You’ve been in pain for days, and you didn’t let me know?”

“I didn’t want to distract you,” you tried to explain, reaching out to take his hand. “I knew you’d worry, and you needed to focus—”

“I always worry about you,” he cut in, his tone fierce and unyielding. His hands, usually so gentle, gripped yours tightly, the tension in his fingers a stark contrast to the careful way he usually held you. “I can’t stand the thought of you suffering alone. I should have been here.”

You winced, the guilt of hiding your pain from him twisting in your chest. “I’m sorry, Azriel,” you whispered, squeezing his hand. “I just… didn’t want you to see me like this.”

Azriel’s expression softened at your words, but the anger still simmered just beneath the surface, a dark fire that refused to be extinguished. “You don’t have to hide from me,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “Not ever. I want to be here for you, especially when you’re hurting.”

He let go of your hand and gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing away the stray tears that had slipped down your cheeks. His shadows coiled around you both, a protective barrier that seemed to shield you from the world outside.

“You should have told me,” he said, his voice breaking slightly as he pulled you into his arms. “I hate not being here for you.”

You nestled against his chest, letting the warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart soothe the pain that still lingered. “I know,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his shirt. “I’m sorry.”

Azriel’s wings wrapped around you, cocooning you in a soft, protective embrace. You could feel the tension slowly ebbing from his body, the anger giving way to a deep, abiding concern. He held you close, his hands rubbing gentle circles on your back, easing the ache that had settled into your muscles.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmured, his voice softening into a tender plea. “I’ll get you anything you need—food, water, whatever will make you feel better. Just… let me be here.”

You nodded, feeling the tears prick at your eyes again, but this time they were tears of relief. Relief that he was here, that he wasn’t angry with you but angry at the situation—at the pain you had endured without him. “I just need you,” you admitted softly. “Just you.”

Azriel’s hold tightened, his wings wrapping more securely around you as if to shield you from the very world itself. “You have me,” he promised, his voice fierce and unwavering. “Always.”

He spent the rest of the evening tending to you with the utmost care, bringing you warm broth and helping you drink, adjusting the pillows behind your back to make you more comfortable. His hands were gentle as he massaged the tense muscles of your abdomen, his touch radiating a soothing warmth that eased the worst of the cramps.

Every now and then, his shadows would flit over to check on you, as if sharing in Azriel’s need to make sure you were okay. They whispered against your skin, their cool touch a comforting contrast to the heat of your fevered body.

Azriel stayed with you through the night, refusing to leave your side even for a moment. When the pain flared up, he was there, his soothing words and gentle touch providing a balm that no medicine could match. He held you close, his wings cocooning you both in a protective shield, and for the first time in days, you felt truly safe and comforted.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be here sooner,” Azriel whispered as you drifted off to sleep, his voice heavy with regret. “But I’m here now. And I won’t let you go through this alone again.”

As you fell asleep in his arms, wrapped in the warmth of his wings and the steady comfort of his presence, you knew that you would never have to hide your pain from him again. Azriel was more than just your mate—he was your protector, your comfort, and your safe haven. And with him by your side, you knew you could endure anything.

[vivakitkt]

Genshin men when you are pregnant

Characters: Xiao, Wanderer, Diluc, Childe

Warnings: Grammar mistakes, not proofread, cringy(?) fem-implied reader!

A/n: Hello everyone! I don’t think I will be writing anything like a whole story for a character for a while because I’m feeling a little bit of writer block so I decided I’m probably going to continue to write short little stories like this! With that being said

Please enjoy! <3

Xiao

Was in denial the first time you told him that you were pregnant. But ever since you got your ultrasound and saw his child, he fell in love. Very good at taking care of your pregnancy cravings and your aching muscles. When you go out to buy baby clothes, he buys anything that you want. When you reach the shoe section, he stands in shock as he see the tiny shoes that his own child would be wearing one day and breaks down a little. He’s always there when you need him and is even more weary of your safety now that you have to carry a whole entire other human in your stomach. Whenever you start to feel sick in the morning, he immediately wakes up not that he was sleeping in the first place and goes over to help you. Enjoys putting his ear in front of your stomach and listening to his baby’s kicks! When your water breaks, he’s already panicking and making sure that you have every that you need for the hospital. Cannot stand waiting outside and hearing your screams inside of the room. When you finally finish giving birth, his eyes instantly melt at the sight of your newborn and gives you a quick peak on your forehead thanking you.

Wanderer

If you told any one of his many different identities in the past that he would have a child with the love of his life one day, he wouldn’t believe you. When you revealed that you were pregnant to him, he froze and scared you half to death thinking that he wasn’t happy. He was in fact beyond happy. Happy, scared, excited, concerned, and many other feelings. Could he even be a good father? He was scared. Scared that he would hurt his child in the same way that he was previously hurt. But you reassured him many multiple time over and over that he would be a great father. Throughout your pregnancy, wanderer would surprisingly be really good at taking care of you. When you suddenly wanted to eat dango in the middle of the night, he still went outside to go and buy it for you, even through his look of annoyance. As great as he was taking care of your during your pregnancy, one thing he could not get understand was your random mood changes and emotional state. While watching the news you would randomly start crying in the middle of the weather forecast, saying that upcoming rain in the forecast made you emotional. Through your emotional being, you were also more sensitive than usual. When he wouldn’t eat because he gave most of his food to you, you would start yelling at him to eat and wouldn’t stop til he did so. When you went into labor, he was restless. Pacing back and forth in front of the room like a maniac. When the doctor finally called him in, he felt like he could breathe again. As soon as he saw your tired body holding a little tiny human, he cracked. He walked over to your body and let out a couple of tears he was sobbing.

Diluc

The day he found out that your were pregnant, he was ecstatic. Almost to the point where he had tears filling the brim of his crimson eyes as he embraced you tightly thanking you continuously. Since then your house has been filled with baby clothes, furniture, locks, a whole entire nursery was already built, and even a green house for you to relax in. Your rich husband knows no expense when he is shopping for you and for his unborn one in your stomach. Oh you’re hungry? He’ll buy you an entire gourmet meal. Oh are you tired my dear? He has your favorite blanket, stuffed animals, and snacks all prepared for you. Are you cold? No worries he can just warm you up using his body heat. You just need to stay in his arms! He is the perfect man during your pregnancy. When he isn’t there with you, he makes sure to tell Adelinde to take extra care of you. When you are in labor, if you told someone that he was the held house hold of the Ragnvindr clan and owner of the Dawn Winery, they probably wouldn’t believe you. He is absolutely in shambles hearing your strained screams and people also yelling. Then the world goes quiet as he hears a small little squeal finally coming from the room. He immediately rushes in when the doctor tells him to come and sees you holding your child in your arms. He approaches you and kneels down to see your child more clearly as he uses his big arms to embrace you and your child together.

Childe

As soon as you barely utter the words pregnant to him, he stands in shock for a split second and then immediately picks you up to spin you around. He has a big family and always wanted a family of his own with the one he loves. So when you got pregnant, he was more than grateful to you. Couldn’t wait to tell his family that you were pregnant. He had a really hard time holding in the secrecy of your pregnancy. Every time you both went outside or shopping for baby clothes, he felt the need to include “Oh by the way my beautiful amazing wife is pregnant?” Or “Yea did you know my absolutely gorgeous wife is pregnant with my child?” He needed everyone to know that he was having a child with you. When you are pregnant, he spoils you rotten. Like I mean gifts every single day. You would probably need a whole closet or room to put all of the stuff he gifts you for your baby. Anything baby related, he would have it. Takes extra care of you when you are pregnant. Doesn’t let you touch a single grocery bag, laundry basket, or trash bag, this man will take care of everything for you. When your friend texts him that your water broke, he panics and immediately drops everything to run to you. When he arrives to the hospital, he is all sweaty and out of breath from running so fast. Everything was worth it though because he was there in time for his child’s birth. Instantly goes to hug you and then look at his child with a few tears in his eyes.

[hyperfixatedhyperstressed]

Pregnancy pains

Walking through the winding hallways of the Red Keep felt torturous. The never ending route towards yours and Aemond’s chambers made your mind drift as the pain in your body grew with each step. Your feet were sore from the weight of your body, you could feel your legs cramping and wanting to buckle but the worst pain was shooting through your back. Your lower spine felt like it was curving under the strain of your swollen stomach and it was making you feel even more nauseous. A strong headache was coming on, pounding beneath your eyes and all you wanted was to lie down in your bed. As a whole, you’d had a relatively easy pregnancy, much to the relief of yourself and your worried husband; but as the final two months dragged on, the pains and strain you were feeling in your muscles and bones made you not want to leave your chambers.

There was a strong relief flooding through you as each step made the door at the end of the hallway get bigger and you could almost feel your body sinking into your bed. Sending away the servants that were milling around the rooms the second you stepped through the doors, you pulled at the laces of your dress and let it fall ungracefully to the floor, not stopping your track to your four poster haven. Thankfully the blankets and furs had been pulled back already so you simply dropped yourself down onto your back and let your eyes close in relief for a moment. Turning to your side and tucking a pillow underneath your stomach, the ache subdued but didn’t entirely dissipate. The dragon within you was strong and had grown well, and, in these later months of pregnancy, refused to cease their restless movements. All you could do was block out as much of the discomfort as you could, allowing yourself to drift into a place halfway between sleep and awake. It was the soft closing of the door and footsteps that roused you again, turning your head to see the long silver hair of your husband as he had his back to you standing beside a wardrobe. You could hear the clinking of buckles as Aemond quietly began undressing himself, the white undershirt being removed just after his leather jerkin to leave his strong bare back on show to you.

“I didn’t expect you back so early.” Your husband turned to face you, reaching his hand up to pull the eyepatch from his head and then undo his hair, letting it hang down to frame his face. There was a softness to his face as he looked over you, eyes resting longest on your stomach.

“I wished to see you, nuha abrazyrys, though I did not intend to disturb your sleep. I was simply going to hold you while you rested.” He stepped closer to the bed, holding the post as he kicked off his shoes. You rolled over onto your back feeling the child within you shift again, “You did not disturb me, the restlessness of your child seems greater today. Though with dragons blood coursing their veins, I should not be surprised they seem so untamed even now.” As you pushed yourself up to sit, the pains in your back returned and the full aching behind your eyes spiked again.

Flicking your legs over the side of the bed, your feet felt as though there were pins sticking into them, tingling as your blood rushed down your legs. Aemond watched you carefully, seeing the effort you were exerting flash across your face with every movement you took. He inches forward as you pulled yourself up onto your feet. His arms came out quickly to catch you as your legs finally buckled slightly under the you. He held you against his chest, your stomach locked between your two bodies.

“Are you alright, what do you need?” His voice was calm but you could hear the worry behind it as you dropped your head onto his bare shoulder and gathered your strength back.

“I am fine, my love, my body just struggles with the strain. I stood too quickly.” Pressing a soft kiss to the smooth skin of his shoulder, you could feel his thoughts rattling around in his head. Without lifting his hands from your body, he walked around to stand behind you, then dropping his hands to rest underneath your stomach, pressed flat against the sheer fabric of your chemise. Your hair was already resting behind your back, allowing him to drop his head down to press slow soft kisses along the length of your neck.

“Stand straight and rest your back against my chest.” His voice whispered into your ear in between kisses, as his hands moved more more to the centre underneath your stomach and his fingers interlocked. Following along with his words, you instantly felt such strong relief course through your body that your legs almost completely gave out beneath you. Dropping your head backwards to rest on his shoulder, your eyes felt like they rolled back in your head and a deep sigh left your chest. Aemond held the weight of your stomach with his hands, softly lifting it upwards and taking the strain off your lower back.

Your body felt almost weightless, like it was floating on the air; there was no pain or discomfort. You could still feel your child kicking and moving around but with Aemond holding you up it was a different experience. He tilted his body backwards slightly so that you could lean into him and take even more weight off your feet and legs. Resuming the soft kisses to your neck and temple, he smiled at feeling your body ease and at the movements he could feel under his hands on your stomach as the babe kicked at where his fingers were locked. You felt as if you could fall asleep in this position, as comfortable as you’d felt in some time.

“Better?” Aemond whispered to you as he placed a kiss above your ear.

You nodded shakily with eyes still screwed shut, your voice almost moaning out a blissful, “I love you.”

[drarrily-we-row-along]

All My Dreaming, It's Only Given a Name

Inspired by the Hozier song "To Someone in a Warmer Climate"... I'm fucking obsessed with it. I can't stop listening to it. If you haven't heard it, you simply MUST.

Harry woke up slowly, the room was still dark, his body warm and so content he couldn't be bothered by the ways his muscles twinged with the need to shift.

There was a comforting weight around his shoulders, a hand in his hair, anchoring him to the warm presence beneath him. A second hand had slipped under his shirt, hot palm cupping his side.

Godric, he never wanted to move again.

"Hi," murmured softly against his temple, lips brushing over his forehead in a lazy approximation of a kiss.

His heart swelled and burst, pressing against his ribs, pushing his lungs until he couldn't breathe with it; this easy, gentle affection. A love so full, so gentle that it felt like the tide washing over him and pulling him along. Words seemed to great a feat, so he just pressed his nose into Draco's collarbone, hoped it was enough.

"Hello, darling," whispered soft and sweet into Harry's hair as Draco's fingers carded through the curls there, his other hand drawing Harry even closer, lightly squeezing his side. "It's so early, love."

A low whine escaped Harry's throat, his body pressing closer, stretching out against Draco's until their bodies were aligned.

"That's it," he murmured encouragingly, holding Harry like he was something precious. "Come closer," he added, "close as you like."

"I'd like to crawl inside of your skin," Harry mumbled, then realized how odd that must sound.

Draco just chuckled softly, "I do understand that impulse," he said. "It doesn't ever feel like I can get close enough to you either."

He sighed, let the short-lived worry of being misunderstood fall away. "I used to dream about this, you know?"

"Did you?" he asked, voice warm like honey; indulgent, like he wanted to hear whatever Harry wanted to say no matter how ridiculous it might be.

He shook his head, "Not exactly," he said softly, turning to prop his chin on Draco's chest.

The other man shifted a bit so that he could look down at Harry, chin scrunching up in a way that should be unattractive but that Harry found impossibly endearing.

"My dreams are paltry in comparison to the reality of you," he murmured like a confession.

"Poetic," Draco replied, lips tilting up at the corners to soften his words, to tell Harry he was teasing, that he was feeling shy about being praised.

He hummed, "My whole life," he whispered, "There's this," he broke off, searching for the right word, "ache," he said, tapping his fingers against Draco's breastbone. He shook his head, "There's always been this yearning to be loved, to be held, to be cared for without the expectation of what I'll be able to give."

"Darling," Draco whispered, and Harry could hear the ache reflected in his voice. It was like this sometimes, like Draco took whatever was hurting Harry and held it in his own body, reflecting it back at him with an empathy and tenderness that left Harry elated and terrified all at once.

"But then there was you," he continued. "And all of my dreaming, it seems like a shadow compared to the reality of being loved by you. All of my longing, my yearning; the restless pursuit of something I never thought I could actually have-" he broke off, eyes stinging.

Draco's thumb brushed away a tear and lightly traced his cheekbone.

"I found all of the things I'd dreamt of in you," he managed. "And more," he added. "This is the fulfillment of everything I've ever wanted; a simple, cozy love. A shared bed, a shared home. Dinner together and evenings on the sofa, weekends attached at the hip. Someone to hold me gently, to kiss me tenderly. Someone who will let me hold them and love them with my love that's too big and never sufficient all at once."

"Darling," Draco murmured again. "You're not too much and you are enough," he assured. "I don't need anything more."

Harry nodded, snuggled back under Draco's arm, resting his head on his shoulder once more. "You make everything better."

"I love you," Draco breathed in that way of his, wondering and helpless, like the way he loved Harry was something that he found immense pleasure in. Godric, Harry loved it when he said it like that. "I love you so much," he repeated. "You make everything better too, darling."

"I love you too," Harry said softly, the simplest thing he knew. The truest thing he knew.

"Do you want to sleep a little more?" Draco asked through a yawn of his own.

He shrugged a shoulder, "Maybe," he said, "I do want to stay like this, even if I can't sleep any more."

"Alright," he agreed, dropping a kiss to the top of Harry's head. "Do you mind if I go back to sleep for a while?"

"Of course not," he said, squeezing Draco's ribs and kissing his collarbone.

Draco hummed, squeezed Harry a little tighter. "You're alright?"

Harry nodded, "Better than," he replied truthfully.

"Kay," Draco whispered, then as though sleeping was as easy for him as breathing, he dropped back off to sleep.

He lay there, listening to his beloved breathe, and couldn't fathom how his life had turned out sweeter than his very best dreams.

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

(Read more of my fics, if you'd like)

[wilddflwer]

Two-Way Mirror

Song by Loathe

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ reader x j. slaughter ˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

ps, just wanted to write something short, not the best but I needed to get rid of my writers block sooo bad.

Summary: reader manages to get away from the man who held her captive, blindfolded, and abused for days. thinking she finally escaped hell, she comes to realize she wasn’t even close.

Contains: dark themes, kidnapping, abuse, gore, Johnnys an asshole

𓉸ྀི 𓉸ྀི 𓉸ྀི

Your jaw ached at how tightly the gag was tied, forcing your mouth to stay open, no doubt leaving a deep red marking on the sides of your face. You move your tied down wrists and ankles uncomfortably, only being able to shift them just by an inch. Your whole body ached, from the abuse, from the consistent sitting position in the chair you were bound to, from the hopelessness inside, from the lack of strength. You hung your head lowered in defeat as you stayed wondering how long you’ve been here. You haven’t been able to see anything but pure darkness for what felt like months. He never takes the blindfold off.

It wasn’t unusual for your capture to leave you alone for more than two days, starved and beaten. It was something you prefer actually, beats having to deal with his sadistic nature. It almost became some sort of routine for you. Every two to four days he would be gone, then he’d show up again, almost excited to see you. Despite not have ever looking at his face, you felt you already knew him whole. You grew to recognize his foot steps, they were heavy and paced lightly. That’s when you knew he was back, when your found peace was about to end. You recognized his touch, always gloved, never skin, leaving continuous bruises and wounds on your body. Most importantly, you recognized his voice. You’ll never forget his voice, his laugh, his mockery, his twisted praising, his mean degrading, his breathing pattern. Hell, even his scent you grew familiar with, cigarettes and death. No, you’ll never forget it. His voice and laughter echo in the your mind constantly, it bounces off the walls and follows you to your restless dreams. Aside from learning his cruel ways, the only other thing you knew of him was his name; Johnny.

It was day three of Johnnys absence. Day three of another torture of silence, aside from your own breathing and on and off cries. Your stomach rumbled in hunger as you shifted your weight uncomfortably, wishing you never went on your stupid trip. That last minute trip driven by anger and spite towards your father, who you had a pretty bad argument with just before you left. That was another thing that weighed down on you, regret. You said such awful things to him, and those were the last words your father would ever hear from you. It hurt, it really hurt. If you could, you’d apologize over and over until you couldn’t speak anymore. You figured you had until tomorrow to have time to yourself to rest and attempt to gather your thoughts. Although, he was unpredictable, so you didn’t rely too much on your own guessing games. You just preyed he’d never come back. You’d rather die at this point, your sane mind was reaching its breaking point. You were slowly losing your fighting spirt.

“I wanna go home” you whimpered to the empty room, the last little hope in you wishing someone would hear your words. Of course, there was never a response. You fell silent once more. You’ve already tried again and again to escape, thrashing around in your restraints hoping they’d get loose. They never did. You were growing tired of the mind games he’d play with you, the abuse, the inhumanity of it all. Even the small things such as feeding you. You’d feel his eyes on you as you eat what you assumed was some sort of meat. His small chuckles made you second guess yourself, forcing the food down. You didn’t want to think it was anything else besides some sort of animal.

You don’t know how much more you could endure. So, there you are once again, attempting to get out. The thought of seeing your father again and taste of freedom is enough to bring back lost determination. You thrash your wrists and ankles wildly against the rope that burns into your tender skin. You twist and pull, flexing them in different directions in hope it’ll loosen just a little. You whimper and hiss through the pain, the rope burn only seemed to get worse on your broken skin. You didn’t stop. You keep twisting, pulling, thrashing, anything you could take off to get free.

Your struggling suddenly becomes worth it as you manage to tug your left hand free, slipping and tugging it through the rope. It was a tight squeeze out, tight enough to force your hand purple for a small amount of time. That didn’t matter though, you could finally get out. Maybe he tied the rope lazily, thinking it was enough to keep you strapped down. After all, you had been trapped here for almost a month now. Either way, your escape would be a slip up on Johnnys end.

You quickly loosened the rope on your other hand, tugging your joint free from its own prison. Then finally, you take off your blindfold for the first time since you’ve been here. Your eyes adjusted quickly to the ominous, dark room you were in. The only light source was a couple lanterns that were draped on the ceiling and the little sunlight that shined down from a hole in the ceiling. It was just enough to make out the horrors of the cold room you were in. The ceiling was littered with various human body parts, from hands to feet. There were at least four corpses strung up, rotting to the bone. You hadn’t realized it until now you had become nose blind to that god awful smell of rotting. You swallowed down the vomit that crept up your throat. Then there was the ladder that led up to who knows where. You quickly started undoing the ropes around your ankles, your last step to finally find your way out of this hellhole. You massage your aching wrists and ankle before thinking about your next step.

Your legs shake as you stand, causing you to hold onto the arm of the chair for support. You keep your eyes to the floor, avoiding looking at any gruesome scene. You force yourself to stand straight as you make your way, or rather stumble, towards the door that leads out. You tug at the sliding door, attempting to use all your strength to open it. It doesn’t budge at all.

“It’s locked?” you whisper to yourself, half distraught and half confused. Why would he lock the door if you were already tied down? Either way, it’s just another obstacle for your freedom. You take a deep breath before doing a quick scan of the room. Doing your best to ignore the bodies, your eyes fall on a toolbox set on a counter. You push off the door and towards the tool box. You quietly rummage through it, finding something that could fit as a lock pick. Pulling out a skinny tool, you grip it tightly and go back towards the door. You’ve never had to lock pick something, but now wasn’t the time to just give up. You slide the tool through the keyhole and give it your best. You use the tool to apply pressure on the part that’ll unlock the door for you. It takes you a minute but you manage to unlock it. You drop the now bent up tool on the ground and slide open the door. You cringe at the loudness, hoping he wasn’t anywhere near by.

There was no mistaking it, you were in a basement. It was more of a maze if anything. You didn’t know where to go or where to start. You hold yourself for some sort of comfort as you begin to explore. Again, you avoid looking at the various dead bodies you come across. You can’t help but wonder if that’s going to end up being you. Just another lifeless corpse rotting down here. Then you wonder if Johnny did all this by himself. Surely not? This whole place was one big grave. The further you walk, the more your anxiety rises. Everything was unfamiliar and eerie. You think back to the ladder in the cold room. It seemed too easy for an escape, but you weren’t exactly getting anywhere right now. You circle back to the room that was your prison. Each step getting quicker as you approach the ladder. You wince lightly with every move as you climb up, your eyes squinting as you are met with sunlight for the first time in awhile. You could almost cry feeling the fresh breeze and the warmth of the sun blanketing your cold and bruised skin. To you, it felt like an angels kiss.

Once you’re back on your feet above ground, you find yourself in the back of somebody’s yard. It was a big property, so many areas to hide if needed. You timidly begin to move to the front of the house where you know there has to be a road. You squeeze through a small gap as a short cut to reach the side ramp that you can see from where you are. Afraid Johnny might be inside the house, you are careful not to be too obvious as you make your way up the dirt road and over the cattle grates. Paranoid, you keep glancing around for anybody that may harm you. You weren’t sure how many people lived here, but you figured they must know of Johnnys crimes. How could they not? The basement was littered with evidence.

You tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear as you admire the various sunflowers in the front yard. The front of the house was welcoming and beautiful, almost like there wasn’t any horrors behind its walls or under it. You crept closer towards the front gate that led to freedom, and to your luck it was open. You pushed the gate open and left the property without looking back once.

You were free.

A sense of relief washed over you as you began to walk faster. Part of you wanted to run, but your body wouldn’t allow it. Your legs felt too damaged to do anything other than walk. You sped walked down the road for what felt like miles, your feet sore. It had to be at least an hours now, the sun was setting and there was still not a vehicle or person in sight. You needed help badly. You needed to get to proper safety and call the police and your father.

You hugged yourself once again. The house you escaped from was long gone now, miles and miles behind you. At this point, you were in a zombie like state. You legs kept going but you felt like you weren’t really there. Your mind was else where. Maybe it was the trauma, or the self defence mechanism you gained over the month you were here, or maybe you were just tried. Either way, you weren’t keen on your surrounding enough. Not like there was anything around you for miles, you were alone and lost. Though, it was better than being tied down to that damned chair. You did your best to ignore the growing ache in your feet as you continued on. Your eyes stared at the ground in a daze. You shivered every now and then, and to think you’d be use to the cold by now.

Right now, all you could think about was your bed, your shower, your father’s embrace, the feeling of being home, your old life before your kidnapping. You squeezed your fingers tighter against your shoulders as you hazily looked forward at the gleaming light getting closer. You hadn’t realized it until now but there was a vehicle getting closer and closer from the distance just up ahead the road. It took a moment to sink in but there was indeed a vehicle approaching you, a truck is what you could make it out to be. Immediately you felt overwhelmed with emotions. There’s somebody that will help you. You could almost cry at the thought of finally getting far away from this place.

As the truck got closer, you stepped in the middle of the road so it couldn’t get around you. You waved your tired arm to signal the driver to stop. Your body shakes with anticipation as the pickup truck comes to a halt just a few feet in front of you. You can’t see the driver from where you stand, but they sure as hell could see you. The way the sun is angled is blinding your view of him, but you could vaguely make out a man’s silhouette. Without thinking, you jog up to the passenger side door and open it. You take your spot and slam the door shut. Home was so close now.

“Thank you, thank you” you repeat a couple times as you turn to your saviour, “I need to get to the police station as soon as possible. I don’t know where I am, I was taken and- and”

Your words were scrambled and fast as you tried to explain your situation without scaring the stranger off too much. At this moment you’re able to take in his appearance. The man’s got slicked back dark hair, dark eyes and a nasty scar that runs along his forehead to over his eye. Despite the scar, he was quite the looker. He’s got a cigarette loosely hanging from his lip as he studies you, nodding mindlessly to your rambling. A small smirk tugs at his lips as he begins driving the direction back to the house who had just escaped from.

“Wait…” puzzled, you shake your head desperately, “You’re going the wrong way. I can’t go back there”

It goes silent between the two of you for a minute. The bad feeling in the pit of your stomach returns as you feel the shift of speed of his driving. Then he spoke.

“You got pretty far, huh?” Johnny comments, his amusement growing as the look of horror and realization colours your face at the recognition of his voice. Your heartbeat quickens by the second as you feel your body freeze and tense. Your breathing seems to come to a stop as you can’t find the words or seem remember how to breathe. You felt your anxiety pouring over the edge as Johnny makes heavy eye contact with you. For the first time, you look straight into the dark eyes of evil and he stares into your fear struck stare. The sudden familiar smell of cigarettes and despair hit your nose, triggering your flight or flight. Everything suddenly came together. The gloves, the boots, his voice, his scent. It was him, it was Johnny.

“No…” you whimper, backing away until your back hits the door, “No…”

You reach for the handle and push the door open, falling out at a high speed. It hurt like hell, but you don’t take long to get back in your feet and run for the hills. Your body burns but you can’t go back. You can’t let him get you again. You take off the opposite direction of where he was taking you. Johnny stops the truck immediately, shifting gear and pressing his foot down on the gas, going backwards towards you just as fast. He rests his arm over the seat as he looks back to watch you run. It was pointless really, but it was both a surprise and rush to him that you still had the energy to try get away from him.

You can practically feel your heartbeat in your ears as you take off into the fields of tall grass. Johnny halts his truck, putting it in park and stepping out. He chuckles watching you make a run for it, attempting to hide from him.

“Aw…You leaving so soon?” Johnny tauntingly calls out to you, raising your anxiety. You can’t let him catch you. Surely you were dead this time. You keep pushing on until you realize you have no sense of direction, you’re completely lost.

“I’m gonna find you!” Johnnys voice calls out to you, he’s getting closer already, “I will! I promise!”

The sun was almost completely set now, leaving you without much light to see two steps in front of you. Your breathing was loud and heavy as you pushed grass out of your way. Johnnys taunting stopped and it was now eerily quiet, aside from your panicked breathes. You stopped moving and covered your mouth to avoid further detection. It seemed like time stopped completely. Johnny was being just as quiet as you. There was no way he could find you in this grass, and much less lack of light. Maybe he’d give up…you prayed he’d give up and just leave you alone.

“Hey there!” Johnnys sudden voice made you jump out of your skin. You screamed as you stumbled back, loosing your footing and landing straight on your ass. However, you moved quick, getting back in your feet and ready to take off. As much as Johnny loved the chase, the risk of another person driving by and you somehow escaping him was not something he wanted to deal with. He was quick to grab your arm and force you back to him.

“Oh, you ain’t gettin away! Im keeping you!”

“Don’t touch me! Get the fuck off of me!” You curse at him, hitting him with all the strength you have left. It must be the adrenaline, or maybe even the fear that gave you enough courage to fight back. You were so close to freedom, yet so far. Of course it had to be him driving down that road, of course you had to mindlessly get in his truck. This nightmare never seemed to end. You were desperate.

Johnny was quick to pull out his hunters knife, giving you two deep gashes as a warning. You screamed out in pain at the sudden fire stinging wounds. Johnny found an opening to sink the knife deep into you, yet he didn’t.

“Hurtin’ real bad, ain’t you sweetheart?” Johnny asks as he gets a firm hold on you, restraining you from hitting him any further. You cry, scream, anything to maybe get someone to hear you. Yet again, there’s nobody; just you and Johnny.

Johnny keeps you restrained against him until you’re done. Too tired to scream, too tired to cry, too tied to fight back. He could’ve shut you up, covered your mouth, but he thrived off it. Found your screams and cried music to his ears. He knew nobody could hear you, just as well you knew deep down inside. Any ounce of energy you had was gone. The past and present abuse on your body worn you out completely to the point where you finally slumped into his arms.

“There you go” Johnny hums, placing his knife back into his sheath, “You’ve had a long day, haven’t you, [name]?”

You didn’t reply, not that you refused to, but you couldn’t. You felt too defeated. Your only chance at escaping was gone. Instead you let your mind wander again as Johnny lifted you. You focused on the beauty of the tall grass you were in, on the fields among it. You focused on the cool night breeze and fresh air that you wouldn’t ever feel again. You focused on the arising moon way up in the sky and how pretty it looked. You wondered if your father was looking at it too.

“Damn…so close! Good try though” Johnny chuckled at your unresponsive state. He figured he broke your mind long ago, that you had no will to escape anymore and accepted the fact you were his now. Johnny knew better now, you were stronger than the others, he had more time with you. You were his favourite by far.

“Let’s go home”



[blessedwithabadomen]

in love with the mess - day fourteen

summary : Aubrey is going on tour and, for once, she's decided to focus on having as much fun as possible. Oli can be a little shit but he does nothing short of adore Audrey and... well, maybe Noah a little, too. Noah likes the flirting, as long as no one gets too close, emotionally. But what will happen when the three of them take it too far?

content : angst, fluff, overthinking, mentions of drinking, mentions of throwing up

length : 6k

tags (let me know if you want to be tagged!) : @veronicaphoenix @cookiesupplier @lma1986 @jilliemiw86 @bngurngheart @lacktoesandtoddlerants @narcissisticbehavior81 @flowery-mess @shilohrosechicken @justeli6 @starvingarsyn @floatinglikeaswan @blacksoul-27 @somebodyels3 @kageyasma @spikeisdaddy @broken0mens @sunsshinesunny

a/n : sorry about the delay!!! I'm going on holiday and it was all very stressful and hectic and then we had to figure out how to get to the airport tomorrow morning because the trains are suddenly not running lmao but here it is!!!

•••

day fourteen

“You… you told-”

Noah didn’t even manage to say it out loud. He didn’t need to. Oli and I were just as aware of the fucking blunder we’d just made. The one that might change everything now.

We should have told him earlier. We should have told him, period. Not risked letting him find out. We’d truly fucked up. Too wrapped up in our own happiness and love to really grasp the consequences. How ridiculously selfish of us.

The room had fallen awkwardly silent, or maybe the ringing in my ears was simply tuning out everything else. Either way, there were still people around us, people who had no business listening in to this, people who didn’t need to know anything about our situation. I wasn’t actually sure if anyone even cared - but all the people running around us were distracting at best. Oli seemed to think the same.

“My dressing room, now,” he simply said, no harshness in his order, yet none of us would have dared to decline.

No more words were exchanged as we made our way through the labyrinthine hallways of the arena. We didn’t touch each other, suddenly hyperaware of every single one of our movements, as if they would be watched and analysed and scrutinised. All of us kept our heads down as we passed by a multitude of people and the general vibe we were giving off seemed to do enough to keep everyone else away. We weren’t in the mood for small talk. Or any talk at all that didn’t include just the three of us.

Oli held the door open for us as we passed him, then shut it after he had entered himself. I’d never felt this out of place in my life. The chaotic, stuffed dressing room that had started to feel close to a second home, even if the actual location kept changing, now did nothing but suffocate me. All of us lingered in the middle of it. No one sat down. As if comfort wasn’t allowed.

“How long?” Noah’s voice seemed painfully loud in the quiet dressing room. The door shut out the noise from outside remarkably well.

“Two days ago,” Oli answered, as if it was no bother at all, as if this wasn’t potentially the most crucial conversation the three of us had ever had, but I could see it in his eyes, in the way he tried to hide his hands fumbling with nothing in particular. “I didn’t mean to say it, then. I mean, I love her, but it just tumbled out of my mouth, really.”

“We didn’t mean to keep it a secret from you,” I added. My whole body ached to reach out to Noah, but the fear of how badly the rejection would sting kept me frozen in place. “We meant to talk to you, there just… We didn’t know how or when. I know that’s the shittiest excuse ever. We should have made the right moment to tell you.”

“So what does that mean now,” Noah all but interrupted. His eyes were flicking back and forth between Oli and me, restless and nervous. He didn’t even seem to process any of the information we’d just told him, even if his brain was probably going a hundred miles an hour. “You two are… a thing. And you still fucked me this morning. Why?”

It was my turn to be stunned. Did he really not know? Was he so completely unaware? Or was he simply trying to shield himself, ignore everything that had happened between the three of us in the past two weeks? Because in my mind, there was no way he didn’t know that this was more than just the three of us fucking around. Or me and Oli getting together. In all the ways that we had complicated and confused this whole thing, it had always been about the three of us. Surely.

“Because we love you, you fucking idiot!”

The outburst pierced the silence painfully but it wasn’t until Noah and Oli both stared at me in shock that the realisation dawned that it had been my outburst. I was the one shouting these words. But as soon as it sunk in, I knew I wasn’t done. Some invisible dam had burst - I was going to speak my mind and I was going to speak it now. No more holding back for the sake of others or blindly agreeing for fear of rejection or letting anyone else take the lead.

“This wasn’t just some weird ploy to get Oli and me together and you get stranded on the sidelines. This has been about the three of us from the start and you know it. So what if Oli and I got there first. I’ve been ready to shout about my feelings for you from the rooftops for days now, Noah. But I didn’t. Because I knew it would scare you away. And I was desperate, Noah, desperate for that not to happen.”

I took a breath, trying to keep a hold of myself, trying not to unravel. I willed the tears in my eyes to disappear but all that happened was that one escaped me and dramatically slid down my face. Noah, somehow, was the first one to react, wiping it away so softly that another immediately followed.

“Every time Oli and I are alone, it feels like a part of us is missing. Like the bed is too big, even when it really isn’t. Or there’s a remark hanging in the room that you would make but you’re not there to say it. I don’t want to do this without you. I want you. I don’t know how this is going to work and I don’t really care because I know we’ll figure it out. I’m in love with you, Noah.”

I couldn’t deal with the way he was looking at me. Especially because I, for once, felt so completely, wholly unable to analyse it at all. Was it pity? Oncoming rejection? Insecurity? Love? I could only hope for the latter, but my emotions were running amok in my body and there was no certainty in anything anymore. In anything but the fact that I was so in love.

Noah was still standing in front of me, but his hand wasn’t on my face anymore and I missed it dearly. All I wanted was to throw myself into his arms and beg him to give the three of us a chance. But this was on him, and him alone.

“She’s right, you know?” Oli piped up next to me. He was much braver than me, pulling Noah close, putting his hand to the other man’s neck and letting their foreheads rest against each other. “We’re not complete without you. I… Noah, I’m in love with you. And, fuck, I never thought I’d say that to a man, but here we are.”

He kissed Noah then, deeply and passionately. It was all he could do. I only hoped it would be enough.

“We don’t want to rush you, Noah. But that’s where we’re at and I… I would hate for this tour to be over with unspoken things lingering between us. So, I don’t know, take some time, talk to us or don’t if you need to be by yourself, whatever you need. But, please, think about it. About us. It’s the only thing I’m asking you for.”

Noah nodded, keeping his head hanging low and staring at the ground now that Oli wasn’t holding him up anymore. I let my hand drift to his jaw, making him look at me. I simply needed to press a kiss to his mouth. The chances that I might not get to do it again were too high.

He felt sweet against me, reciprocating the kiss with a familiarity I had grown so accustomed to. But he didn’t initiate anything else. I let go of him and stepped back.

“I’ll give you an answer. Tonight. I promise.”

Believing in him was all Oli and I could do.

•••

It felt wrong to sleep alone. If I’d already been lamenting the fact that Noah was missing when it was just Oli and me, I’d completely forgotten just how awful it would feel to have neither of them next to me in bed. The cold was seeping into my bones, one that couldn’t be fixed with any number of blankets or heating in the room. I missed feeling their bodies around me, feeling the mattress move every time they shuffled. Missed their hands on me, their chests pressed against my own and my back. Their slowing breathing filling the room with the slightest noises that had me drifting off to sleep so easily. Now I was too cold and the room was too quiet and my brain was too loud.

We had tried to be reasonable about it, really. We’d gotten a ride back to the hotel together and while I tried to savour every moment with them, it had been the most awkward situation we’d managed to find ourselves in just yet. When we had lingered in the hotel hallway, unsure of how to proceed from here, Noah had said that he needed some time to think, alone, and that it would probably be for the best if he just went back to his room with Jolly. We’d bid him goodnight, not attempting to kiss or hug him or initiate any other physical contact, and he’d ended up waving before walking down the corridor. Like a stranger.

Then it had just been Oli and me, again. I’d made him hold me, for a while, needing the closeness and the reassurance that we could somehow be fine whatever happened now, but we didn’t talk. Only to agree that we should sleep separately for once. It simply felt… wrong to allow ourselves to spend the night in an attempt at what would hopefully become a steady relationship when Noah was still struggling and confused and neither part of it nor outside of it. Plus, I knew fully well that we would end up talking the whole night, not getting a wink of sleep and instead stressing ourselves out even further.

Not that I was getting much rest on my own now.

Picking up my phone, I once again, for what felt like the seventieth time that night, opened our group chat. There wasn’t very much in there to be honest. Most of the time, it was easy enough to locate each other in the venues or their rooms. And if I was looking for someone specific, I usually ended up texting just that person. The other one was probably with one of us already anyway.

Still.

My fingers hovered over the screen. And then they typed, before I could stop them. I clicked the sent button as soon as the last letter had appeared. Just to make sure I wouldn’t back out again. Then I chucked the phone as far away from me as I could while still being able to hear my alarm in a few hours and turned around, hoping for sleep to come, hoping for my brain to give me some peace for at least a while. Hoping those two men would feel the same way I did when they read my message.

I miss you already.

•••

I ended up running late which was something that rarely happened and tended to be in my top ten most stressful situations in life. I had been so preoccupied with leaving on time or at least not too late to make my flight to Dublin that I didn’t even remember to check my messages until I was in the car to the airport.

Noah Can we talk tonight? The guys want to go out but maybe after?

There was about an hour of nothing in the chat, I presumed Oli was asleep or simply not checking his phone at that time, before another message from him came through.

Noah I miss you too Both

Then silence, again, for a few hours. Oli had apparently gotten up earlier than I had and, somehow, had been more organised. Or at least enough to text.

Oli Think everyone’s keen on going out tonight We can meet up at the hotel afterward? My room? Please don’t make me stay on my own again, I couldn’t even get any rest without you (Aubrey) clinging to my shirt until it almost choked me and you (Noah) terrifying me with your sleep talking in the middle of the night

I wasn’t going to cry in the cab. Even if I did end up clutching the phone to my heart as if it physically held the people I loved and not just the messages they had left. Maybe it was going to be alright after all. Maybe we could make this work. Maybe, even tonight already, we would be right where we were supposed to be - next to each other.

I didn’t get a chance to reply as the driver pulled up to the airport. But I would get to talk to them later tonight, at the very latest. And that made my heart that little bit lighter.

•••

“I’ll let you know that I was only slightly panicked about you missing the flight,” Becky said as I reached my gates, mere moments before boarding was about to start. I huffed at her, pretending it was because I was shocked at how little faith she had in me, not because I was legitimately out of breath.

“Which would have been annoying but not the end of the world, pretty sure there's more fights from here to Dublin than just this one today.”

“Not if they all get cancelled because of the storm.”

I felt the blood drain from my face. “Storm?”

“Yeah, it's pretty windy already so it's not clear whether later flights will go ahead. Wait, you don't look too well - are you- are you afraid of flying?”

“I'm afraid of turbulences,” I admitted.

“Well, then,” Becky said, reaching into her bag as she ushered me towards the counter where they'd just started boarding. “Here's to hoping your surprises will keep you occupied!”

“Wait- plural?”

She didn’t feel the need to answer me as she instead pushed me forward to get my ticket checked and then ushered down the way toward the plane. I was already on the aircraft when she caught up with me, briefly waiting as I took my assigned seat in the middle, which was only bearable because the window seat was taken by Noah. He sent me a tired smile, making me wonder how much rest he’d gotten during the night, as I slid into the row.

“Have fun!” Becky squealed, putting a folder in my hands and vanishing down the aisle of the plan before I could stop her. I briefly looked from the now vacant spot to the folder to Noah, who had a small but knowing smile on his face.

I quickly stored my luggage and got comfortable - as comfortable as possible on a flight - and only got briefly interrupted when Oli walked down the aisle next to me, throwing a kiss in my direction the way he had done the night before, then throwing another to Noah, who accepted it with the blush I had grown to love so much on his cheeks.

“Do you know what this is about?” I asked as more and more people filled up the plane, boarding finally finishing and the crew getting ready for takeoff.

“Maybe,” he chuckled, giving me one more look that I couldn’t quite get a grasp on, then busying himself in the comic in his hands, one I recognised he’d bought on our trip to Forbidden Planet a while ago.

Realising I wasn’t going to get any more information out of him, I decided I might as well try to preoccupy myself with figuring out what exactly Becky had given me during take off. It was the worst part of the flight anyway. Well, minus the landing. And any turbulences.

However, there simply had to be one more interruption.

“Is this seat taken?”

Confused, I looked up from the folder, already questioning what sense that question could possibly make on a fight with assigned seating, when my eyes spotted-

“Lia!”

I tried to jump up but the seatbelt I'd already buckled painfully pulled me back. Noah quickly reached over to undo it as I stood up, folder almost crashing to the floor, my arms wrapping around my best friend as if I hadn't seen her for years. It felt like it.

A stern look from one of the flight attendants had us sit down immediately, getting settled and ready for take off.

“What are you doing here? I don't understand!”

“Did you know Becky is super nice and also definitely able to bully people into giving her my number and telling me to get my ass here?”

“Wait, so-”

“Well, apparently Oli requested my presence too,” she continued, completely unfazed by my questions, “and we both know he's asking for you and not because he loves me so much. Also the hotel had a free room for the next two nights, how handy, right? So here I am, taking you out drinking tonight and trying to punch some sense into all of you guys. Hi, Noah!”

Noah waved awkwardly and then handed me back the folder I had almost forgotten about. He just have caught up when I'd almost dropped it.

“Have you read it yet?” Lia asked, almost jumping in her seat. I shook my head and then buried it in the papers in front of me.

Nothing made sense.

I skimmed through the pages, then back to the first one, as if it might just have been my English skills inexplicably leaving me, but no. I was seeing - and reading - correctly. With a frown so tight it almost hurt the skin on my forehead, I read through the contents, properly now, absorbing every word.

I wasn’t sure how long I took, flipping through the pages, back and forth, just to make sure I was reading correctly, that I wasn’t hallucinating these words, that this was for real.

“This- I mean… I-”

“You're getting an apprenticeship, Aubrey!” Lia shouted so loudly that someone from the row in front of us turned around with a frown. “Becky asked the company she works for and they're offering it to you. Said that the past two days were basically your try-outs. You're gonna be a sound technician! Well, if you accept, of course.”

“Oh my god,” I mumbled, flipping through the pages again, and again. This whole thing felt like a fever dream I was not ready to wake up from. “And in a few days I would-”

“Come on tour with us and shadow Becky,” Noah completed my sentence. “Not the most conventional way to start learning the basics, but when have any of us ever been. Conventional, that is.”

I didn't have time to think about the implications of his words or how they could translate to a completely different issue too. All I could do was put a hand over my mouth in shock and cease to fight against the tears that were starting to spill down my cheeks in abundance. Both Noah and Becky hugged me as much as they possibly could with all of us stuck in our seats. Even the turbulence couldn't faze me anymore.

Life might actually be looking up.

•••

If there was one thing Lia knew how to do, it was how to keep me occupied and distracted. We spent most of the day chatting, which included a lot of me rambling about my chaotic love life - I only cried once - and her fawning over her wife and how she needed a change of occupation too. On top of that, we decided to have lunch at the hotel restaurant, where we promptly bumped into Becky, who allowed me to ask all the questions about the internship offered and then almost bowled me over in my chair when I asked the waiter for a pen to sign the contract straight away.

Since all of us had the night off, we ended up agreeing over several different group chats to go out big style - crew, Bad Omens, Bring Me The Horizon, well, and Lia. Even though she had a room of her own, she’d practically gathered half her suitcase and made a home in mine as we got ready together.

Yet, all she seemed to do was veto every outfit I showed her until we finally landed on an oversized pullover I used as a dress (just about sexy enough for her, comfortable enough for me, who wasn’t actually looking to attract anyone new that evening) and a pair of fishnet tights that would do nothing at all to protect me from the January cold but would hopefully look less out of place once we were inside again.

“So, what’s the plan with Noah, then?” Lia asked as she dropped down on my bed, spilling some of the setting powder in her hand and then trying to rub it into the duvet as if I hadn’t seen. “Because all I see right now is you and Oli sitting around waiting.”

“What else is there to do?” I sighed. I genuinely felt at a loss. We’d put the ball in his court. We’d told him how we felt. We left the decision up to him. But would all of that be enough?

“What’s the biggest issue right now? Like, what’s his fears?”

“Probably that Oli and I have a stronger connection with each other than either of us has with him. That we already know each other so well that he’ll be the one left out.”

“Sounds like you guys need more time together. The three of you. Completely ignoring what you and Oli might know about each other from before and just focus on finding yourselves in this relationship now.”

The silence lingered for a moment as both of us got lost in our thoughts, the mascara I was in the middle of applying now forgotten in my hand. I stared at myself in the mirror, made up and dressed up, and wondered who I was. Someone in love. Someone who was willing to fight for it. I was so over being passive.

“What can I do?”

“Well, first of all, put mascara on the other eye too because you look very asymmetrical.”

I rolled my eyes but did as she said, knowing that if I got too carried away, I’d completely forget about the rest of my makeup anyway.

“Give yourselves more time?” Lia offered.

“Tour ends tomorrow,” I thought out loud. “The Bad Omens tour isn’t until the 27th and the flight to Berlin is on the 26th. Now, I know Oli is completely free the next few days and I can ask around again but I’m pretty sure Noah has a break until then as well.”

Lia simply let out a hum in the background of my monologue, just to let me know she was still listening as I started scrolling through my phone, typing and searching.

“Fuck it,” I decided. “I’m booking us a family room for the next few days after tour. Nice hotel, just outside of Dublin. No distractions, no one else we know around us, no shows, no appointments, nothing. Just the three of us. There. Booked. Do you think the hotel can print something for me?”

Lia looked at me like a proud parent which was unnerving at best but I ignored it.

“I’m sure Oli would love to go and ask with you,” she grinned as I pulled on my shoes and was already halfway out the door, jacket and bag at the ready.

“Meet you downstairs in a few?”

“Will do! Don’t get distracted by Oli’s dick!”

•••

“What if he doesn’t even notice?”

“Of course he’ll fucking notice.”

“You don’t know that! He might not look this way and then just stumble over it!”

“What if we knock?”

“But we’re supposed to drop it off without him seeing!”

“Fine. I’ll knock and we’ll run and hide around the corner.”

“What are we, five?”

“Yes. I’m knocking now.”

I quickly dropped the printed paper along with the post-it stuck on top to the floor as Oli all but pounded on Noah’s hotel room door before bolting down the hallway with me and stopping just around the corner, pulling each other to safety and then peeking around just as we saw him step out, confused. We stayed hidden until we heard the door fall back into its lock and then spared another glance to make sure he had picked up our notes.

“You think he’s going to do it? Come with us for another few days?”

“Well, a luxurious hotel and both of us, he’d be stupid to refuse,” Oli chuckled, but I could tell the anxiety weighed on him just as heavily. There wasn’t much more to do, really. We’d told him about our feelings. We wanted to spend the small break that all of us had together, no distractions, just getting to know each other better and figuring out how this could work. It was truly his turn now.

“Come on, stop worrying that pretty head of yours so much,” Oli said, pressing a kiss to it. “Let’s get Lia and see what Dublin has to offer, yeah?”

I simply let myself fall into his arms a little as he led us toward the lifts, ready to forget about the ache in my heart just for a while.

•••

The night ended up not being all that wild, after all. Everyone was feeling the exhaustion from the past two weeks on tour. It didn’t mean that the pub we had all gathered it wasn’t in danger of running out of spirits, though. The mood was high and the volume in the room seemed to be getting louder by the minute. I’d already saved various people from Lia various times because if someone didn’t know how to shut her mouth when intoxicated, it was her. I’d currently lost track of her once again which was slightly worrying, but the more drinks Becky was providing me with, the less I cared. Her husband wasn’t back company either, although he seemed ever so slightly overwhelmed with the rowdy crowd around us.

“Are you excited to go on the Bad Omens tour then?” He asked, an arm around Becky, who was currently distracted by someone else who was telling her about some sound system or other, and I only briefly let myself fall into the yearning of having that kind of stable relationship, the kind of love that people would see from miles away without any of us doing anything, the kind of connection that shone through even when we weren’t talking.

“Did everyone but me know about this?”

“Well, yes,” he laughed. “As far as I know it was a joint venture, Becky, Lia, Oli and Noah all huddled together to make this happen. I guess you’re very loved.”

“God, don’t make me sappy now,” I chuckled but it was nothing but an attempt to keep the tears at bay. I’d been crying entirely too much lately, for a number of reasons, and I was getting a little tired of it.

I excused myself momentarily, citing a bathroom break, but found myself standing outside the pub instead. The cold air sent shivers up and down my body, but I didn’t mind all that much. It was a nice reminder that I wasn’t only in my head. That I was here right now. I flinched when a hand landed on my waist, a gesture so strangely intimate I knew it to be Noah before I registered anything else.

“So you two really want to spend more time with me alone after this tour?” he asked, jokingly, but he couldn’t fool me. I could see the insecurity in his eyes, in the way he stood, in the way his hand lingered on my body without quite grabbing it.

“Noah, love, I’ll always want to spend more time with you.” My hand was on his chest now, hard and lean under my fingertips, and it took all the strength I possessed not to pull him in and kiss him stupid. “If your tour wasn’t coming up so soon after, I’d probably have booked us in for a month.”

His fingers ildly played with the fabric of my makeshift dress. “Maybe-”

The door from the pub banged open with more force than it should have been able to. A rather tipsy Lia stumbled out, obnoxiously pointing at Noah as she came over.

“You! Folio threw up on the bar and they’re kicking him out and I’ve been told you’re the one to bother. He needs to get back to the hotel and you guys are sharing right? Come on. I’ll help.”

Noah sighed, deeply, but looked at me once more before turning away. “Can we talk later? The three of us? Not in my room though, for obvious reasons.”

“Sure,” I chuckled. “Oli’s room later? We can shoot you a text.”

“Perfect,” he said and then he bent down and pressed a soft kiss to my lips and I could really believe this was going to work out.

•••

The night was dying down earlier than I would have expected, but both Oli and Mat kept loudly complaining that they were not 25 anymore after all. I bit back a comment about how that luckily hadn’t impacted Oli’s performance in bed. As more and more people started leaving, Oli clung to me, leaning his body on me with much more force than necessary, then giggling at the way I almost buckled under his weight. He was a little tipsy, just on the verge of it, and it made him all kinds of needy and whiny. Although I wasn’t quite sure if that was actually down to the alcohol or if he was simply in a mood.

“I want Noah,” he mumbled into my ear as he rested his head on my shoulder. It seemed horribly uncomfortable with the height difference, but I patted his hair in what I hoped would be a calming and reassuring gesture anyway. “I miss Noah.”

“I know, baby,” I cooed. “Do you want to go back to the hotel? I can shoot him a text.”

“Please.”

The cold outside seemed to wake and sober him up considerably as we got into a cab to get back to the hotel. He immediately pulled me into the middle seat, claiming the distance was simply unacceptable.

“Thank you for helping with the job situation, by the way,” I whispered, as if it was a secret, just for the two of us. “The job, offering me a place to stay, getting me on this tour in the first place… I really don’t know how to ever thank you for everything you do for me, Oli.”

He grabbed my face then, gently, so I would look at him. Then he kissed me so deeply that I was getting lightheaded, all sensations swimming through my brain in one big mush as I allowed myself to drown in them, knowing he was holding me and keeping me safe.

“You could keep on loving me, that’s all I’ll ever ask for.”

“Well, that’s going to be very easy,” I giggled, pressing a kiss to his nose right as the driver announced our arrival.

The hotel was quiet as soon as we left the reception area. I wondered if Noah was still busy taking care of Folio. If I should text him immediately and ask him to come over. If he wanted to talk to us yet. My train of thought was interrupted when we arrived on our floor and none other than Lia left Noah and Folio’s room, quickly running over to us as I shushed her for being too loud in her heels.

“He’s finally stopped puking,” she gleefully announced. “I’m off to bed now. Noah… Well, get to your room. He’ll get in touch?”

“He’ll- what?” I asked, but Lia was already bouncing down the hallway again, refusing to stop for clarification. Oli simply shrugged his shoulders as he unlocked the door and held it open for me.

It only took a few moments.

The knock wasn’t as much as a surprise, considering we were basically waiting for Noah, but the fact that no one was there when we opened it felt a bit comical. Especially when we realised a folded up piece of paper was on the floor in front of us.

“This feels like payback,” Oli laughed breathlessly, quite obviously just as nervous about this as I was. I refused to let the overthinking get the better of me though as I bent down to pick it up and unfolded it while Oli closed the door again. When I saw the amount of text, I ushered him in the direction of the bed so we could sit on the edge and read it together. He had to help hold onto it so we could still be make out the words amid my shaking.

Aubrey, Oli, my loves.

I’ve spent the last day doing very little else but think about everything. I’ve been trying to find a winner in the war that kept waging in my head but it seemed impossible.

Well, Lia didn’t allow that. She’s quite a force, isn’t she? As soon as Folio was in bed, she basically held me at gunpoint (figuratively) while she told me what she thought about the situation and how much of a “fucking useless idiot” I was being. Then she made me write a pro and contra list on the back of this page because apparently that’s what she does when she can’t make a decision. I’m not sure if buying a new phone quite compares to this, but I humoured her. And I think it helped. Just don’t tell her that.

Noah

There was a slightly messed up heart drawn next to it. The hope was rising up in my throat like bile, threatening to make me throw up just from the sheer terror and excitement about what was happening. We were so close to an answer. This was the moment.

Oli nodded at me to turn the paper over as soon as he was also done reading. He looked white as a sheet and I was sure my own face mirrored it. My shaky fingers only got worse when I flipped the page over.

There was indeed a list in front of us. Lots of entries on the “pro” side. Ranging from “They make me laugh” to “I feel safe with them” and “They know I’m scared and they don’t mind”. The contra side was shorter, but still held a few bulletpoints. “The distance”, “Third wheel” and “How to make this work??” were scribbled there.

But none of that was the important part.

The important part was that the list had been crossed out, liberally, with a massive “x” over the whole page, making it a little harder to read some of the points. And in the middle of it, almost from one corner to the other, covering even more words, he had written one single sentence. One sentence that seemed to count more than all the others. That made everything else not matter. That made clear that he had come to a decision.

I AM IN LOVE WITH THEM.

[darksigns-exe]

float here forever - noah sebastian x laurie (ofc)

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Laurie (OFC) Warnings: Unprotected intercourse, swearing, mommy Word Count: 2.1 k Note: This is part of an AU to my polyverse. You will see more of them in a while! Can be read on its own!

Laurie watches the pretty boy in front of her. He’s so gorgeous like this, his face so soft with sleep. His eyes flutter open, still a little dazed and drowsy. 

She traces her fingers across the side of his face. Noah breaks into a little smile, leaning into her touch. 

“Good morning.” She speaks softly, barely daring to break the still silence of the room. 

It’s all so delicate. She loves when their mornings are all slow and soft like this. The mornings where she just gets to luxuriate in his presence, enjoy the gentle touch of his skin on hers are her favourite. 

Noah stretches, hums with the feeling of it. His grumbled morning is almost lost between the rustling of the sheets as he continues to shift. 

Laurie sits up so that she can look at him properly. Noah makes a soft little sound, not far off from a whine, when she detaches herself, and Laurie immediately feels a little guilty. Her hand returns to the side of his face and her thumb drifts across his cheek. 

Something’s in the air today. 

She can’t stay away from him for too long. Laurie sinks back down, resting her head against his chest. Maybe it’s because the drowsiness of sleep hasn’t fully left him yet, but he looks so much softer today. 

Laurie feels him shift again. For someone who looks so relaxed, he feels incredibly restless. 

“What’s on your mind?” She asks softly. 

Noah shifts again, and this time she realises that he’s pressing his hand against his crotch. She turns to look at where his hand is resting. 

“I’ve been so fucking hard. It won’t go down.” He whines. 

“Oh honey.”

She watches as he presses against his aching cock again, “I just need to — please.”

Laurie turns so that she can look at him again, “What do you need, honey?”

“Need you on top, baby. Please.”

He paws at her waist, hands kneading at the softness he finds there. 

Laurie feels his chest rise and fall rapidly against her cheek. She turns so that she can press a kiss against his sternum. 

“Want me on top?”

He nods so quickly. Laurie loves seeing him like this. She loves knowing that he trusts her so completely.

“Take off your boxers for me, honey.” She says, sitting up once again. 

Noah quickly struggles out of the garment, and before she knows it his hand is back on her waist, urging her to come closer again. 

She doesn’t let him wait. 

Laurie carefully shifts herself on top of him, hands coming to stabilise against his waist. His hips buck up when her skin comes into contact with his. Her hands wander up the sides of his body. Noah always squirms so sweetly for her when she touches him like this. 

Something is simmering beneath the surface of his skin, and she’s intent on luring it to the front. 

“Don’t tease.” He sounds like a petulant child with the way he whines, “I just need to feel you.”

“I’m right here.” She finds herself so amused by his desperation. 

It’s always a delicate balance. Noah has slowly opened up to this side of things, allowing her to tease and taunt him until he’s putty in her hands. Sometimes he’ll snap shut on her again. She’ll give him what he needs, but Laurie can tell that he’s not allowing himself to feel the whole extent of it. 

She brings a hand between her thighs. The first brush of her fingers against her clit draws a sigh from her lips. Noah’s attention flickers between her face and the fingers slowly circling her entrance. 

“C-can I touch?”

“You’re touching me, aren’t you?” Her unoccupied hand curls around the hand that is still gripping into her hip. 

He keens, obviously displeased at the fact that he has to articulate exactly what he wants. Noah takes a second to settle himself again. He looks so awfully hesitant already. Laurie moves his hand to replace hers against her centre. In return, Noah makes a broken little sound. It feels like a reward to her. 

“Feel that?” She asks, directing his fingers towards her entrance. 

He hums in acknowledgment. 

“That’s all because of you, honey.” By now, she knows exactly what she has to say to make his head swim, “You’ll make me feel so good.”

She sighs as Noah’s fingers curl inside of her, searching for that one spot. She’ll let him work her open for a while. It’ll still be a stretch — it always is — but this way she won’t have to strain herself quite as much. 

Laurie lets her eyes fall closed. From the way he whines and sighs, one would think that he was the one being touched. 

“So warm — you feel so good around my fingers.” 

“Just imagine how good it’ll feel around your cock.”

The sound he makes is out of this world. He’s so desperate for her, ready to do whatever she’ll ask of him. His fingers still inside of her and in return, Laurie clenches around them. 

“Think I’m ready for you?” she cocks her head to the side curiously. 

Noah gives a timid nod in reply. 

“Words, my love.” Laurie brings a hand into his hair, carefully pulling the rogue strands out of his face. 

“I need to feel you.” he chokes out, “Please.” 

For a second, she wonders if she can push him further, the crinkle in his brow makes her drop that thought immediately. 

“You need it so bad, don’t you, honey?” Another desperate nod.

Laurie rests her hand against his waist, “You’re always so good for me. So eager.”

Her thumb drifts across the soft skin she finds there. Noah squirms just a little, evidently trying to contain himself. 

Her hand wraps around his aching cock. His hips instantly shoot up to meet her hand. With how wet she is and how much precum had already leaked from his tip, she wouldn’t even need to dig for the tube of lube in the night stand. Laurie draws her thumb across the head of his cock, luring a pretty little whine from his lips.

Laurie decides to give him what he wants. He’s been so good, so sweet for her, why wouldn’t she. 

She positions herself over his hips, her hand still wrapped around the base of him. She drags the tip of his cock through her folds, teases herself as much as she’s teasing him. 

“Please, Laurie.” He gasps, and it sends a little shiver through her body. 

The remnants of a swear remain stuck in his throat when she begins to sink down on him. She takes her time with it, pulls up to leave just the tip of him inside. He always fills her up so nicely. With the way she’s positioned on top of him, she’ll feel him absolutely everywhere. 

Laurie gives herself a moment to adjust to the feeling. Noah’s hands grip into her hip. She’ll find pretty little bruises there later, a wonderful little reminder of this. She loves finding the marks he leaves on her body, the little crescent shapes where his fingers have pressed into her skin, the pretty little bruises he likes to suck into her skin. 

When she looks down to Noah, she finds him entirely focused on where his cock disappears inside of her. She wants his eyes on her, though, wants him to look at her face while she rides him. She’ll let him do what he wants for now, he’s been so very good for her, he deserves a little treat. 

Laurie grinds down against him. Her insides already feel all twisted up, and she’s not sure how long she’ll last. Noah’s gorgeous, all spread out like this. His lips hang open, glossy with spit. The pace she sets is just too slow for what Noah usually likes. It’s just as tortuous for her as it is for him. Although, looking at down at Noah, she’s sure that he’s a bit worse off than she is. 

Noah throws his head back as he writhes in pleasure. And then an idea pops into her head. She leans forward, bracing herself next to his face. Her other hand comes to grip his jaw. With one swift movement, she turns his face towards her. Noah’s eyes shoot open. 

“Eyes on me, honey. Understood?”

The words that break from his lips set every inch of her on fire. 

“Yes mommy.” 

It takes Laurie a second to recover from it. The wide-eyed pleasure on his face makes her dizzy. She gives his jaw a little squeeze, before she presses a kiss to his cheek. 

“Good.” She says softly, “Are you going to be good for me, or do I have to make you look at me?”

He nods, before quickly correcting himself, “I’ll be good. Please. I’ll be good for you.”

She grinds down against him hard. Noah whines so pathetically for her. Laurie releases his jaw, but remains close to him. She has to strain a little to reach his face, it is absolutely worth it though. 

“That’s what I thought.” 

Laurie keeps her rhythm slow, more of a grind than anything else. This time, Noah manages to keep his eyes on her. She keeps her praise coming, makes sure that he knows how good he is for her, how good he makes her feel. Watching him slowly dissolve in return is more than worth it. 

She knows that she doesn’t have to do much to make him fall apart. In fact, Laurie is sure that she’d just have to continue like this and Noah would crumble just like that. But the little bit of information he’d tossed her away a moment ago had sparked something in her. They’d played with dynamics before. She’d figured out that he liked relenting control to her fairly quickly. It had started as a gentle guiding hand, and in a way it had stayed that. It’s always gentle, always care-taking rather than demanding. Of course, there were always days when he needed demanding, but this morning clearly was not one of them. He needs soft and gentle today. And in a way, it doesn’t surprise her when he says it again, barely above a whisper. 

“Think you can last just a moment longer for me, darling?” She asks, setting herself up right again. 

Laurie can tell that he’s right at the edge, and his frantic nod only confirms it. 

“You’ve been such a good boy for me.” She sighs, feeling herself coming closer and closer to the edge, “Such a good boy for mommy.”

He whines so sweetly then, all soft and wide-eyed. Tears well at his lashes, and Laurie is sure that she’s never seen him this ruined. 

“Go on honey. You can cum whenever you have to.” 

And she feels him spill inside of her only a few moments later. His release is joined by the prettiest whines. The tears that clung to his lashes spill over, staining his cheeks so beautifully. Laurie works him through it, even though her thighs are beginning to burn. Her own release washes over almost unnoticed. Watching Noah sob with pleasure takes up most of her attention, and while she feels the warmth of it flood through her body, she finds herself more occupied with his pleasure. 

Laurie litters his cheeks with kisses, cradles his face as gently as possible while he comes back down from his high. 

“You did so good for me, baby.” She whispers, “I’m so proud of you.”

She tends to him for a moment longer before she places a final kiss to his forehead. Laurie slips into the bathroom to clean herself off before she makes her way back to him with a wet wash cloth. The clean up is quiet, except for Noah’s pained whine when she cleans the remains of their releases off him. 

Once she’s done, she sits herself next to him once again. Her fingers drift across his bare chest for a moment, silently tracing the intricate lines of ink.  

“That was new.” She says after a while. 

His cheeks flush so brightly, “It just slipped out. I’m sorry if that was —”

Laurie cups his face in her hands, “I don’t know if you noticed, darling, I liked it a lot. It’s okay if that was just a heat of the moment thing, but if you want to explore that more, I’m absolutely open to that too.”

He’s quiet for a moment, mulling through his thoughts. 

“I liked it.” He whispers, and it fills Laurie’s chest with warmth. 

“You did, didn’t you?” She cards her hand through his hair, “Sweet boy. We’ll play this by your rules, okay? If it doesn’t feel good, we don’t have to do it.”

He blinks up at her, “You’re always so good to me.” His hand comes to rest against her hip, “Thank you. For all of it.”

Laurie can’t stop herself from smiling, “Of course. Everything for you.”

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

The Artist and the Builder [a Joel x reader fic]

Read on Ao3

Sequel: All The Fear and the Fire of the End of the World

Fandom: The Last of Us

Ship: Joel Miller x you/artist!reader who is his age and has arthritis and allergies.

Tags/warnings: Bit of pining, Joel is sweet and settling in, reader has joint pain and allergies, kissing, pretty tame foreplay, a little fumbling, teasing, insertion of objects into vagina that probably shouldn't be there but it's the apocalypse there ain't no dildos, vaginal orgasm, Joel is Too Big and also has Bad Knees, piv sex, cuddling, artist stuff listen I don't know how to do this anymore.

Summary: Gruff contractor Joel Miller has been in Jackson for a while and up until now, you thought he didn't like you because you're an artist and who the hell needs art in the post-apocaypse? But you are wrong.

Words: 7,139

A/N: Listen I know absolutely nothing about being an artist, sorry about that. I also don't have allergies or arthritis (although I suspect I am going down that road but let's cross that bridge when we get there). I just want Joel to be soft with someone his age whose body is falling apart. Many many thanks to @pazizz and @rambling-in-purple who helped me with this one. It started as one thing but ended something else. I really appreciate the help along the way <3

My masterlist

The ache protrudes harshly into your dreams and tears you away from sleep way before it’s time to get up. It grows stronger as you come to, and you carefully try to open your hands. Each joint is like a rusty hinge that creaks and whines when moved, and you sigh deeply as you hide your hands in opposite armpits in an attempt to warm them up. Your mother had arthritis and would tell you in a bland voice that you’d probably get it, too. She had it, her mother had it, and so on. But that seemed so far away, you had your whole life ahead of you, and you had just settled down and started to live after your crazy twenties when the outbreak happened, and survival became your only goal. Despite it all, you managed to live for twenty more years, and then got slapped with the family curse.

Closing your hands around a mug of hot tea, you walk around the living-room of your small house and inspect your various half-finished projects: paper made of plants, clay paint, painted mugs. The whole house smells like a compost, so you open a window to let in a cool breeze. You immediately feel it in your aching hands but do your best to ignore it.

Sitting down at your drawing table, you pick up the charcoal and sketch a couple of lines to the profile you’re working on. It doesn’t feel right, however, so you put down the charcoal again. Restless, you sip some tea, your foot tapping against the floor.

Eventually, you have to go to the infirmary, where Robert, Jackson’s doctor, already is treating his first patient of the day.

You like Robert, like being of use, but being a nurse isn’t what you wanted. You trained to be one, yes, and worked as one for years because it felt like a good, honest profession, and your parents insisted. At nearly 30, however, you quit, and went back to school to pursue your true calling: art. You had almost finished your education when the world went to shit, and your passion no longer counted for anything. For the past twenty years, you’ve thrown yourself after art supplies like other people after food, but even paper is becoming harder to come by. Hence your experiments using plants.

“Your hands bothering you?” Robert asks around lunch, and you nod silently. You haven’t said anything, but he notices.

“Take the rest of the day off.”

“I’m good.”

“Just go, okay? I can’t give you anything for the pain, but I can give you the day off.”

You accept gratefully, and as you change into your normal clothes, you decide to go check at the latest construction site if there’s any sawdust to be had.

You hear the promising sound of a saw working its way through wood as you get closer to the latest house being erected, and when you reach it, Joel Miller looks up from the sawhorse and straightens his back. You think you see a grimace flash across his face, but then he carefully rearranges his features into the usual scowl.

Joel’s been in Jackson for a while now. You don’t really know much about him, except for what you’ve heard from others: that he walked across the country from Boston with the girl in search of his brother, and when the place where he was supposed to drop off the girl was destroyed, they both came back here. He seems to have settled well, and he’s handy, so he’s a welcome addition. He doesn’t really seem to understand your needs, though: when you first asked him if he could save some sawdust for your papermaking, he scoffed when he learned that you needed the paper for art. You bit back on an acid remark. Art wasn’t valued very highly in this world, but it’s what made you happy, and you didn’t care what someone like Joel fucking Miller thought.

“Hi,” you say, stopping in front of the sawhorse. “You got something for me?”

He wipes his forehead on his sleeve and nods towards the wall of the house he’s building. There are three buckets by it, and you see that two of them are filled with yellow sawdust, the third one with nettle leaves. Puzzled, you look over at him. You can’t really figure him out.

“What’s this?”

“Ellie said you were looking for nettles in the vegetable patches,” he mutters. “Passed by a bunch of them on patrol yesterday.”

You chew on your lower lip as you process the unexpected kindness.

“Thank you,” you eventually say. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem.” Joel picks up the saw again and goes back to working on shortening the board propped on the sawhorse. The woodsy scent of sawdust fills your nostrils, and you catch a whiff of sweat from Joel, despite the cool weather.

The buckets are proving difficult to pick up. Your fingers refuse to curl around the handles, and even if the weight is more than manageable, your hands are just not having it today. You swallow hard, embarrassed by your frailty, when Joel steps up behind you.

“I’ll take those.”

Big hands close around the handles of the sawdust buckets. You pick up the nettle bucket and start to walk towards your house. Joel walks alongside you, silent and avoiding looking at you just as you are stubbornly staring in any direction but his.

“I have arthritis,” you finally tell him, naming your disease with disgust dripping from your tongue. “My hands don’t work so well some days.”

“That’s rough,” he offers. “I used to have a neighbor who had that. Sorry.”

You finally venture a glance at him. His features offer nothing of what’s going on behind those dark brown eyes.

You arrive at your house, and Joel carries in the buckets for you. You see from how his nostrils flare that he wasn’t prepared for the earthy smell of your home.

“Just put them down there,” you ask him, gesturing to him. Joel does that and is left standing in the doorway to your living-room. He looks around at your various half-finished projects, the pictures on the walls, all your attempts at creating art with whatever materials you've been able to get your aching hands on.

You pretend to busy yourself with washing your hands, but you're really watching him. You've seen this before: people who don't care about art seeing art in a whole new way for the first time. They're always slammed in the face with it, and it's a very delicate moment that shouldn't be disturbed. So you busy yourself at the sink, rinse out your cup despite it being close to clean already, warm up your hands some more with water, open the cupboards and rearrange things. Joel disappears into the living-room, his heavy, unfamiliar boots causing the floorboards to complain about every step he takes. You hear him walk around slowly, and your curiosity gets the better of you. Quietly, you walk over to the doorway to sneak a peek at him.

He's standing by your desk, holding up a paper with a half-finished sketch. To your horror, the picture is of him, the one that you just can't get right because you can't figure him out, can't combine his threatening glower with the warm smile he reserves for his close ones.

You almost dash across the floor and snatch the paper from his hands before throwing it down on the desk, picture down.

"That's not finished, I mean, it's not... you weren't supposed to see it."

"It's good," Joel states simply. You glance at him as you mindlessly rearrange the sketches on your desk.

"Thanks."

His stare is piercing and hard to meet, so you cast down your eyes to a sketch of Ellie right in front of you. Joel follows your gaze and sees it.

"Can I see that?"

You bite your lower lip, pick up the sketch and hand it to him. You're happier with this one: Ellie's face is open, honest. She talks, questions, comments. You've barely heard ten words in all from Joel, and he's been around for months.

"You really captured her," he admires you. "Did she pose for this?"

"No," you shake your head, "but I've worked together with her occasionally. It's easier to draw someone when you know how they move and talk and such."

He hums in agreement as he studies the picture.

"Is that why you haven't finished my picture?" he eventually asks, catching you off guard. "Because you haven't spent time with me?"

"Probably," you shrug, and hold up your hand for him to relinquish the picture back to you. He does, and the line between his brows seems to melt away when he asks you if you'd want to finish his portrait.

"I can come by tonight after work."

You meet his soft gaze and nod.

"Yeah, okay."

///

You're in the middle of dipping your paper molds into a tub of pulp and putting them to dry when there's a knock on the door. You call out a "come in" as you wash your hands under water as hot as you can manage. Not good at staying passive, you've strained your hands all day continuing with your experiments.

Joel steps in, eyeing the room immediately before settling his nut-brown gaze on you.

"How are your hands?" he wants to know. You shrug.

"The same."

You reach for your jacket, and Joel grunts questioningly. You raise a brow at him.

"Are we going out?"

"I need fresh air."

"It does smell in here." A grin flashes by his face, almost shocking you. Was that a joke?

"Sorry," he immediately apologizes, taking your silence for chagrin. You smile wryly.

"Don't worry. It really is smelly, I just don't notice anymore."

You leave your house together and start walking slowly down the street. The evening is cold in a refreshing way, and you hide your gloved hands in your pockets, both to keep them warm and to keep them occupied. Keeping your eyes trained on some invisible spot in the distance, you try to figure out something to say. It doesn't feel like you and Joel have a lot in common, and all those old icebreakers of "where are you from" and "do you have a family" can be sensitive in this world. You opt for something you do know about him.

"Did you build houses before?"

He takes a second to answer, but finally tells you that he was indeed a contractor.

"Always good to know how to build things," you comment. Joel hums in agreement before clearing his throat.

"And you? You usually work in the infirmary."

"I was a nurse, but I didn't like it much," you tell him. "I went back to school to study art, but the breakout happened before I finished. And nobody needs art to survive. So I work as a nurse."

Joel doesn't say anything, but nods to a passer-by.

"Do you like being a contractor?" you ask. Once again, he takes a little time before presenting his answer.

"I do."

"Good, honest work, huh?"

"Something like that. And..." He hesitates, gaze flickering when you turn your head to look at him.

"It's nice to build something instead of destroying it," he finally mutters. You nod slowly.

"Yes. Yes, it is."

Without hurry, you walk around Jackson three times while talking. Joel is a man of few words, but the words he does utter are well chosen and sometimes heavy with information. He talks about his former construction work but doesn't utter one word about his personal life, possible family, likely loss. His voice is warm when he talks about Ellie, the teenager he delivered across the country, only to find that the people who were supposed to take care of her were already dead and buried. There is a momentary crack in his facade when he talks about his failed mission to bring Ellie to Salt Lake City, but he quickly gathers himself, and states that that's how both ended up in Jackson. He seems happy enough with those turns of events.

You tell him about your art education, about how you ever since you were a young child have seemed to notice how light falls on objects, faces, your surroundings, and the deep-seated urge to draw the light, paint it, trace is with a brush in futile attempts to replicate the magic. The light changes everything, how the world is viewed, and you're constantly trying to capture those moments when the light renders a common kitchen utensil magical, just because the first rays of morning sunshine catch the curves and angles of it. You're not sure he understands, but he does listen.

Eventually, you stop outside your house, facing each other. Darkness has fallen and you didn't leave the porch light on, so you struggle to see his face in what little light there is to be had from the moon, and the glow from the windows of the neighboring houses.

"It was nice talking to you," you say sincerely.

"You too."

You hide your hands in the opposite armpits in an attempt to keep them warm. The cold is getting to them, even with gloves.

"Will I see you tomorrow?"

Joel blinks.

"You're not going to draw me?"

"It's too dark."

"Ah." You hear from his tone that he just realized that you've been talking about light this whole time. His head shifts on top of that long, strong neck, his face turns a little to the side and you catch the profile of his aquiline nose against the faint light coming from the neighbor's house.

And you know you have to try to draw him like this, half cloaked in darkness, the bridge of his nose sharp against soft light, maybe from a fire, the shadows painting dark valleys on his face with his frown, the glint of grey in his beard, a lock of hair curling by his ear.

"Maybe not," you correct yourself and step past his towards your porch. "Come on in."

You load up the fireplace, your hands only trembling slightly from the weight of the wood. Joel kneels next to you by the fireplace and takes the matches from you. A protest rests on the tip of your tongue, but the brief touch of his warm, callused hand makes you swallow it. You stand up and watch him light the fire, breathe life into the kindling, and carefully place smaller twigs on the first, small flames before rocking back to watch the fire grow. You move your weight from one foot to the other, tuck your hands into your pockets. Joel glances up at your fidgeting.

"Your hands hurtin'?"

"It's the cold," you shrug. "But it's fine, it's not that bad."

You take a step back, towards the kitchen.

"Want a cup of tea?"

"Sure. Thanks."

When you return with two mugs of steaming tea, the fire is crackling merrily. Joel rises, joints popping, and accepts one mug from you with one hand, the other suddenly taking a gentle hold of your wrist. You twitch, the tea spills over a little, but you don't pull back your hand. Slowly, Joel covers it with his big, broad palm, so much warmer than yours, and you almost instantly feel the heat spread into your aching joints.

When you search his averted gaze, he releases your hand, and clears his throat.

"Thanks for the tea," he murmurs, and you nod quickly.

"You're welcome."

You busy yourself with emptying the run-down armchair from various knick-knacks and tools, and indicate the seat for him. Carefully, as if afraid to break it, Joel sits down. You pull up the desk chair and take a piece of charcoal and a paper, propping it on your lap with a sheet of cardboard under.

"You're not going to continue with the half-finished picture?" Joel asks, sipping his tea.

"No," you shake your head. "It's not how I want to draw you."

"Waste of paper."

"I'll use it to make more. It's okay."

He grunts, and you hide your smile without knowing why you're even smiling in the first place.

"Turn your head a little towards the fireplace," you instruct, and Joel squares his shoulders, as if he's unhappy about being told what to do. However, he does as he's asked, and follows the rest of your directions easily. When you're happy with his angles, you put coal to paper, and start to sketch.

For a long time, the only sound heard is that of the fire, and the soft scratch of the coal against the coarse paper. Your sharp eyes note every hair, pore, and line on Joel's face, but you're finding it hard to transfer them to paper. After a long day, your hands are hurting bad, and the pain keeps shifting your focus away from the task at hand. Finally, you sigh deeply and turn the paper upside down.

"I'm done."

"It's finished?" Joel asks, shifting like he's sitting back and leaning forward at the same time. One brow is quirked inquisitively, while his tight jawline lets you know that he doesn't really want to see the result - but he's curious.

"No," you specify as you get up, "it's not finished. I have to start over, but it's getting late."

Your fingers can barely let go of the coal when you set it down together with the paper. You hide your knuckle in the palm of your other hand and rub it discreetly.

"You won't show me?" Joel rises from the armchair and comes up to you, putting away the cup of tea. Standing right in front of you he seems almost impossibly broad.

"Your hands hurtin'?" he asks in a low voice that vibrates along your spine. You swallow quickly.

"Just need to warm them up, it's okay, I'm used to it."

Your breath gets caught in your throat when he takes both your hands and presses them to his chest. You feel his heart beat quickly against your palm and realize that some of his body heat actually comes from him being just as nervous as you are.

Feebly, you try to pull back your hands.

"I'm getting coal on your shirt..."

"Don't care."

You bite into your lower lip, speechless as if you were fourteen and standing in front of your crush, instead of a middle-aged woman talking to...

Who is Joel to you, anyway?

"Why are you doing this?" you ask hoarsely. Joel frowns, his hands slowly letting go of yours. You keep your palms on his chest for a second longer before letting go. Bereft of the warmth, your joints feel even worse.

He doesn't seem to have an answer to give you, but his lips move like he's trying to say something to break the silence. When nothing comes out, you get impatient.

"Joel?" you prompt.

"No one's ever looked at me like you look at me," he lets out, his dark gaze locking in on you. "It's like you're staring right through my clothes. It makes me nervous. I haven't been nervous in... a very long time."

"Nervous how?" you hear yourself ask, even if your armpits have grown damp, and your heart is beating so hard he surely must hear it.

"Nervous in that way." You hear exactly what he means, all the possibilities and threats and risks summarized in that. There's something so awkwardly boyish in it that you find yourself smiling. His frown deepens when he sees it, but his lips soften.

"Joel," you ask, softly touching your aching hand to his, "do you want to kiss me?"

He immediately grabs your wrist and touches his lips to yours in a kiss that doesn't really know what it's supposed to do but wants to do it anyway. He forgot to draw breath, and instead of inhaling against your skin, he pulls back quickly when he has to breathe.

"Fuck," he mutters, "that was a shitty kiss. I'm sorry."

Your cheeks flush violently when you pull at his hand.

"You can try again?"

The offer makes him smile, finally, and he displays that dimple that you found absolutely impossible to put to paper. His closes his hand around the back of your neck, and his lips press onto yours, and he remembers how it's done, and kisses you until you're not sure your legs will carry you anymore.

///

The picture of Joel becomes secondary to your meetings. Joel, you realize very soon, courts you, like some southern Gone With the Wind-type of gentleman. He brings you whatever materials he can find when he goes on patrol - you're excused from that task due to your horse allergy - and quietly offers you his thick gloves when you're out walking together, and your hands hurt. He continues to not talk much, but you start to recognize the little things: acts of service, the way he looks out for you, how his eyes light up when he sees you. His kisses when you part.

There is only kissing. He hasn't touched you in any other way, and you haven't taken initiative to anything further. There is only a rather chaste, yet warm, kiss when he leaves your house, where you usually meet up. He drinks tea and watches you draw, or paint when you're not asking him to pose for you. You know exactly how you want to capture him but so far, your hands haven't been skilled enough, and for every hour you spend with Joel, you lay another piece of the puzzle that is Joel, and you become unsure of how to draw him.

One evening, a couple of months after that first kiss, you're enjoying the warm fire in your living-room when there is a knock on the door. Joel stands on your porch, eyes scanning you quickly as soon as you open the door.

"You weren't at the movies," he says, referring to the event that nearly everyone in Jackson went to tonight. You hear the question in the statement: Are you okay?

"It's cold," you shrug. "Not my thing. Wanna come in?"

He enters your house, and you take his coat and hang it by the door.

"How are the hands?" he asks. You rub your palms together.

"Not bad today, actually. How's your knees?"

He grins a little, knowing that you saw him carry furniture up porch steps earlier.

"Creaky, but they still carry me."

"Tea?"

"I don't want to disturb, if you wanted to be alone."

You lead the way into the living-room, and move some things away from one armchair, pulling it closer to the fireplace, next to the one you were sitting in.

"You're not disturbing, do sit down. I could work some more on your portrait."

Busying yourself with picking at pieces of charcoal, you don't pay him any attention until his footsteps bring him right behind you. One warm hand touches your waist gently, startling you into turning around to meet his sheepish face.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay." His warm body is so close to yours, and his smell of wood, sweat, and snow invades your nose. You inhale deeply, pretending to sigh just to get the opportunity to soak in this intoxicating, masculine smell of his.

"I got something for you." Joel holds up something wrapped in cloth, and it takes you a few moments to gather yourself.

"For me?" Carefully, you take the little package from him. "Whatever for?"

He shrugs. “Thought you might need it. It’s probably your birthday at some point, or Christmas, or whatever.”

You never were good at receiving gifts, and it's even harder now. When was the last time you even got one?

He shifts his weight; a show of nerves that doesn't match up with his calm, deep voice. You decide to put him out of his misery and unfold the cloth.

It's four paintbrushes, hand carved with thick, curved handles, and tidily shaped heads.

"Oh. Joel, these are... these are gorgeous."

You hear him exhale, like he had been holding his breath.

"You think they're any good?"

"I'm sure they are, the hairs look amazing. Where did you get these?"

"I made them."

Now you tear your eyes from the brushes. "You made them?"

"Carved them, they should be comfortable to hold, I asked the doc what's suitable for someone with arthritis... The hairs are horsehair, bound together with sheep hairs."

He has really listened to you talking about all the art supplies you miss, and your ideas of making your own.

"The hairs are washed, so hopefully they won't give you allergies," he adds quickly.

"Joel... thank you. I don't know what to say."

He chuckles a little. "Try them first. What I know about making paintbrushes can fit onto the head of a nail. You may wanna return them."

"Unlikely."

You lean forward, the brushes still in your hands between the two of you, and touch your lips to Joel's. His hands rise to gently cup your elbows as he accepts your kiss. Only when your lips grow more insistent, does his hold tighten as well, and all you can think of is him holding your tits in the same manner.

Your hands, still holding the brushes, come to his chest, and you start undoing the buttons of his flannel. Joel's lips leave yours, and when he looks at you with eyes steeped in hot molten lava, you know that it didn't come easily.

"What are you doin'?"

"What does it look like?" you smile a little shakily. Is this the beginning of a refusal? Have you misunderstood his interest in you altogether?

"I don't want you to do it just because I gave you somethin'."

"It's not because you gave me something, it's because you never took anything away."

He cups your cheek now, strokes his big thumb over your lips.

"You're beautiful. I haven't done this in a long time, and never with anyone as beautiful."

"How old do you think I am?" you laugh, amused and touched at the same time. His ever-present frown changes slightly, turning quizzical.

"I don't need to hear that I'm beautiful," you specify, hands still on his chest. "I don't care about that."

"Then what do you wanna hear?" His voice is impossibly low. Your pussy clenches, grows moist and hot.

"I want to hear you want me."

"Oh, darlin'..." he sighs, closing his eyes momentarily. "I want you like crazy. I have wanted you for a long time, but I wanted for you to decide when you'd have me."

You didn't know how much you had longed for someone who saw you as a sexual being, a woman with desires and a will of her own.

"Joel," you whisper, and he swallows the rest of your words when he crashes his lips to yours. The brushes fall from your hand when you throw your arms around his neck to bring him closer, and Joel's big arms go around your waist. He hums into your mouth when your entire front is pressed against him; a satisfied hum, like he's happy to have you here. You answer with a hum of your own and feel his lips curve in a smile.

Slowly, his hands begin to know your body, sliding over curves and dips, fingers dipping into flesh, palms caressing over your clothes. Your approach is more direct: you pull at his flannel, wanting it off him.

"There's no hurry," he admonishes you between kisses. "Unless you got somewhere you need t'be?"

You exhale in something in between a scoff and a chuckle.

"In your pants?"

"Bedroom, then?"

"It's warmer in here, where the fire is."

"Hold on."

He releases you, seemingly unwillingly, and disappears into your small bedroom, re-emerging momentarily later with your bedding. You move the armchairs away to allow for him to put everything down in front of the fireplace. Groaning, he lays down on the makeshift bed, taking your hand and pulling you down next to him. You giggle a little as you plop down, immediately receiving more kisses.

"This better?" he wants to know. Your skin knots over when his hand finds its way underneath your shirt.

"Much better."

He rolls half on top of you, hand finding your breast for a light squeeze as his knee pushes between your thighs to separate them. His cock is stiff against your hip, and you move against it, smiling into the kiss when he grunts and grabs your breast harder. You put your hand on his, pressing it down, feeling his hand disappear into your soft flesh almost painfully. Your moan gears him up, and he starts to pull your shirt upwards. Squirming out of it, you reach for his belt, huffing in annoyance when Joel sits up to take his own shirt off. You sit up as well for a better reach, and your forehead connects with his chin just as he dives back to you.

"Ouch!"

"Fuck!"

You smile sheepishly at each other, both of you more startled than hurt, and Joel gently pushes you back down.

"Maybe we should take it slow?"

"I need you, I'm done waiting."

"I know, sweetheart, but I don't want you to break my jaw."

You scoff, but his kisses make you docile. Your clothes come off, along with his, and when you're both finally naked, skin against skin, you discover that you're happy with going slow as well. In the light of the fire, you trace your hand along his strong muscles and soft flesh, kiss his scars from past struggles, and the newer bruises from recent altercations with logs or whatever he has attempted to lift on his own. You close your fingers around the girth of his cock - Jesus, 20-year-old you would've giggled like a maniac at the sight of it - and enjoy the sounds of surrender that you can conjure out of him.

"God, your hands feel good on me," he hisses as you slowly, while trying to remember how to do this, stroke him with both hands. You smile, suddenly struck with nerves, when you pass your thumb softly over the glistening head of his thick cock. The precum catches the flickering light from the fire, and you get lost in how light and shadow play over Joel's skin; the dark dip of his navel, the hills of his soft pecs and stomach illuminated, his cock rising proudly from a thicket of dark hairs towards the light, the fuzz of his thighs. The embossed skin of a scar reflecting the warm light. The way his skin rises in goosebumps at your touch...

"Darlin'?"

You blink, and meet his wry, amused smirk.

"You with me?"

"Yeah, sorry. I just... was looking at the light."

"How you'd paint it?" Joel seems to catch on immediately, having listened to you rambling on about The Light several evenings. Yod nod and run one finger along the length of his cock before continuing up his happy trail, swerving around his navel.

"There's so much to see on the human body, if one just knows how to look."

"Lemme try that."

Joel pulls you down and rolls you onto your back, propping himself up on one arm next to you. You blush a little as he inspects you, his hand following the dancing shadows on your chest and stomach.

"Yeah," he murmurs, "I can see it alright."

"Yeah?"

"M-hmm. Hold on."

He rolls to the other side, looking in the dusky room for something. When he returns to your side, he's holding one of the brushes he made. With a feathery touch, he touches the brush to your ribcage, right underneath one breast.

"Here's light," he mumbles, carefully tracing the brush along a rib. "Right next to the shadow of your breast."

You exhale in a soft moan as his knuckles brush up against your breast, knotting the nipple. Joel's tongue slips out to lick his lower lip before he goes on tracing the lines that only he can see on your skin.

"What are you painting, Picasso?" you ask hoarsely.

"Hush," Joel tells you curtly yet not unkindly. You smile and close your eyes, shifting a little so that you can drape your arm around his shoulder. His hot breath is on your breast, his whiskers tickle you before something warm and wet disturbing your nipple tells you he's licked it. A shiver runs through you, and you push your chest out, asking him wordlessly to do it again.

He latches on and suckles steadily, but your shout of surprised pleasure has barely died down before he releases you and continues down your stomach with the brush.

"Joel," you whine, blinking up at him, but the focus in his eyes is so intense that you don't say anything more. Instead, you watch him figure out the fundamentals of visual art: how the light changes everything, how to handle the brush, how to angle the hand. His brush may not have any paint on it, but he paints your pleasure with sounds from you: gasps, hums, a hiss when he passes over a ticklish spot. With the brush trailing through the thicket of your pubes, your legs fall open and your lower lip catches between your teeth. Your pelvis rises to meet the soft hairs, and you moan when Joel dips the brush through your slick folds. He moves the brush to your nipple, circles it to wetten it with your arousal, then ducks down to suck it into his mouth. Your back arches, your inner thighs are wet, your heartbeats echo in your pussy, and you need him to understand just how desperately you need him.

"Fuck me," you keen, "Joel, I need you to fuck me."

He hesitates, coming up to slot his mouth over yours and steal your breath away. You rub yourself against him, find his cock and tease it, make him moan just as needily as you.

"I take it you ain't a pregnancy risk?" You hear from his tight voice how close he is to snapping. Fuck, but that's hot.

"STDs are our only concern," you try to joke, but it's not funny. Before coming to Jackson, you spent years in a quarantine zone as a nurse, and the common sexually transmitted infections ran rampant. Without proper testing equipment, it was hard to tell the scale of it.

"I should be clean," he tells you, and you're too far gone to doubt him.

"Me too."

He kisses you again as he rolls on top of you, his width and weight blocking out everything else as he plunges his tongue into your mouth. Your hips rise to meet him when he leads his cock against your entrance, and you almost bite him when he starts to push into you. Your nails press into his shoulders, the fit is impossible, and Joel stops.

"Fuck," he mutters. "You okay?"

"It's big, it's been a while."

He growls and pulls out, cupping your cheek when you whine.

"Don't wanna hurt you."

"Just get me wet, Joel."

"You're plenty wet already."

"And you're hung like a goddamn moose, so get me wetter," you snap, and Joel chuckles.

"Relax, darlin'."

"I'm trying."

He kisses you again, hand between your legs, two fingers slipping through your folds and drawing out the slick to a slow circle around your clit. Sparks run up your spine and you bury your fingers in his thick, greying hair.

"You always try to cram it in before finding a girl's clit?" you mutter, but your smile shines through. Joel slips a finger inside you.

"I told you, it's been a while." He trails kisses down your neck and moves his finger inside you, seeking the right, spongy spot. You mewl and writhe, needing more but not getting it. One finger is not enough. An idea forms in your head.

"Take the brush," you ask him breathlessly. Joel stills, finger slipping out as he studies your face. You roll your eyes.

"It's not a commentary on your skills. Get over yourself."

"You were the one who were in such a such a hurry a minute ago," he teases before looking around for the brush. Finding it, he brings it to your tits, but you shake your head.

"No, use it on me."

His brow rises quizzically. You push his hand down.

"Fuck me with it, Joel."

You expect an objection, or at the very least surprise, but all you get is a strangled sound and a searing kiss. The handle, so smoothly polished, is thick and curved in a way that bears resemblance to a dildo - not that you've used one in twenty years, but the thought is there now and you have to try this out.

The handle slides in easily, filling you better than his finger but without the intensity of his cock.

"Fuck," you keen, directing your hand down to rub your clit as Joel slowly pulls out the handle before pushing it back in. "There, fuck, Joel, that's good..."

He's breathing audibly now but you don't look at him anymore, you close your eyes and let him help you find all those buttons and spots that you had almost forgotten that you had anymore. When your toes start to curl, and you moan "Faster, Joel, faster!" he complies, rough whiskers scratching the sensitive skin of your tits as he fucks you with the paintbrush that he carved with his own split-knuckle hands to spare you your aching ones.

You barely know what an orgasm feels like anymore, but there's no mistaking this one. The rise and the tightening of muscles, the holding of breath before releasing it in a choked moan, the loosening of limbs, the pounding heat of your pussy.

"Jesus, but that's beautiful," Joel sighs, gently sliding out the brush and putting it to the side before kissing your flushed forehead. "Darlin', you're killin' me."

You chuckle huskily and pass your hands over your face.

"I think it takes a lot more to kill you, Joel Miller."

"I wouldn't bet on it."

The bedding underneath you may keep the draft of the floor at bay, but offers no suspension, so when he edges into you a second time and bottoms out, it's like being split in two between a rock and a hard place. But you can take him, and you cling to his broad shoulders with breaths coming out as hissing.

"Relax," he murmurs, petting your hair as if you were a skittish animal while slowly moving in you. "Sweetheart, you can take it, you're doing it already, you're doing it so well, it feels so good..."

You keen as he spears you again, slowly but steadily, his muscles trembling from the effort of keeping himself from crushing you. Your legs wrap around his thighs, arms around his shoulders and you pull him down, you want to be crushed, you need him like this, steady like a train and sharp like a razor, his breathless kisses on your neck, the groans that may come from pleasure or discomfort from being on the floor, you have no idea, but you need him just like this.

"Come, Joel, come," you gasp into his ear, the good one, and he endures, unwavering in his effort as he digs into you, deep, thorough, devastating.

His climax is a relief and a sadness. You don't want it to end, but you also couldn't bear one more second of it.

Joel slumps to the side, gathering you into his arms as he draws a deep, shaky breath. In the faint light of the embers that are left in the fireplace, you trace the scar on his right cheek and watch his eyelids press shut more firmly before he turns his head to kiss your fingers.

The temperature in the room seems to drop as the heat dies down, and you carefully untangle yourself from Joel's firm hold to put another log on the embers. When it flares up, you return to Joel's side, now finding him watching you.

"You okay?" he asks when you pull a blanket over both of you. Making yourself comfortable, you nod with a little smile and a kiss to his lips.

"Perfect."

"That thing with the brush was... interesting."

You blush. "I don't know what happened."

"Glad it did."

"Joel, I... haven't had sex like that... at all... in decades," you blurt out. "And this was... perfect."

He hums, glances down, and to you it's glaringly obvious that he is conflicted. Your heart sinks just as he speaks up.

"It really was perfect."

"But?" You can't help yourself: there's a slight edge to your tone. Joel leans his head back a little to take a good look at you, the usual disapproving frown back on his face.

"But there was someone," he starts, "for years. And we never had this. Time and place wasn't right."

You exhale in relief. History and baggage are easy to deal with, rejection is not.

"I'm sorry."

He shrugs with a little sound, forehead smoothed out.

"Was she... Ellie's mom?" you dare. Joel shakes his head, and his hand slowly passes over your back, fingers strumming the bump of your spine.

"I didn't know Ellie until a few months ago. This was... someone else. A partner. She took Ellie on, really. I was against it. And she... didn't make it."

You don't want to say that you're sorry again, but don't know what else to say, either. So you kiss him, because you want to, because you think he needs it, because there are no words. Your hand is splayed open on his cheek, his lips and mouth are dry and so are yours, but the kiss is sweet and gentle, and the things you can't find words for are carefully passed on to him. He exhales in a soft sigh onto your cheek, then tilts his chin up to kiss your forehead before burrowing his nose against your hair. It's clear to you that he wants to sleep, but you're buzzing with unexpected energy. Carefully, you slide away from his arms, smiling at his frown, and get up to tip-toe to the desk, where you pick up paper and coal. A faint blush colors your cheekbones when you feel his cum seep out of you, and you hurry back to the makeshift bed, sitting down by Joel's feet.

"C'mere," he barks, but you shake your head.

"Just stay still."

He complies with that frown of his, and you settle down, putting the piece of coal to the paper.

You know how you want to draw him now.

[zchl]

★ ˚ . + one. two. ten. #H.RJ 🌌

pairing ﹒ huang renjun + gender neutral!reader genre ﹒angst warnings ﹒ big character death , sensitive topics touched on

✦ a/n this made me want to scream, cry and slam my head into a wall while writing this. hope this pulls at your heart strings the way it did mine </3.

⫘ 11:4Opm ︿ 🎧

one. two. three. you repeatedly counted to ten, pacing back and forth in the hallway of the hospital. your heart was racing, your mascara stained your cheeks. it felt cold, you felt cold. the anticipation of knowing if renjun was okay was eating you up inside. the muffled monitor beeping in the distance was overwhelming you, every time it slowed down you panicked, fear filling your body.

four. five. six. it was getting later, the doctors consistently updated you, hoping to give you some sort of relief when they told you he was holding up well. just two hours ago you and renjun were bidding farewell. he had a family trip back to china for the next week, you never expected anything bad to happen in such a short amount of time. not even 15 minutes after he left your home, the call came in. the call you dreaded the most, the call you wish would never happen. “hello? y/n l/n? this is — hospital.” the words ringed in your ears. the conversation felt heavy, you were holding your breath the entire time. “huang renjun has requested we called you. he was in a serious accident,,,” the more information you got, the more worried you got. who would hurt him like this? what has he ever done to anyone?

seven. eight. nine. all the time sitting in the hallway away from your boyfriend, felt like true punishment. you wish you could see him, at least touch his skin to know he’s still with you. you grew sleepier, now getting impatient and restless. time passes, what feels like days the doctor comes to you. “he’s not awake yet, but if you’d like to see him you may.” you instantly accept, not caring if he wasn’t awake. you just wanted to see him. the doctor opened the door for you, when you walked in he gave you instructions on what to do if anything went wrong and left the two of you alone.

ten. the sight of renjun made your heart ache, your whole world felt like it was coming to an end. his head perched up on mountains of pillows, iv’s and blood piping into his body. the breathing tube he needed to get oxygen through his system, the bandages wrapped around his wounds. you couldn’t hold in the tears, the drops that fell felt like a waterfall on your face. slowly making your way over to his side, your body was shaking. you can’t process this, seeing the love of your life lay coldly on a hospital bed hooked up to all these wires. you softly laid your hand on his, his skin was cold. your muffled sobs filled the room, “god, please. don’t take my boy.” you begged over and over again.

one. two. three. four. five.

you didn’t even realize you had fallen asleep next to him until you hear rapid beeping coming from his monitor. quickly awakening you notice his body shaking, his skin turning more and more pale. you tense up, running towards the door, spam pressing the alert button for the nurses. “fuck! hurry up!” you cursed, continuing to hit the button. the door swings open, doctors and nurses running in to reach renjun. “what’s happening?!” cries and screams escape your mouth, “why is he shaking?!” one of the nurses quickly hold you by your arm backing you away from his side. “no! let go, i need to be here with him!” you resist, begging them to let you stay with him. “one- one two-” you don’t realize you’re counting aloud, trying to calm yourself down. “renjun please! just count!” you were still fighting the nurses grip on you, trying so hard to be with him. you and renjun had always used counting in your relationship to calm each other down.

six. seven. eight. nine.

the monitor wasn’t slowing down, doctors rushing to mend him and arguing on what to do, the nurses grip on you tightening as she held you by the door. “please, please. don’t go, renjun you’re so strong. please, don’t take him away from me!” your sobs echoed in the room, chanting pleads at the sky, wishing that whatever was above would save your boy from this nightmare he was living. you couldn’t even imagine the pain he was in, you needed him to be okay. everything goes silent. the monitor slows down, “is he okay?!” you escape the nurses grasp running back to his side. before you could speak again, the monitor blanks. the loud, never ending noise that plays in any hospital show when a character dies. your heart drops, you frantically look around at all the doctors. “what the fuck is happening?!”

ten.

one of the doctors places his hand on your shoulder, rubbing it softly. “we did everything we could, i’m-” the sentence couldn’t be finished. you instantly broke down, knees collapsing under you. screams and sobs took over, all you could hear was yourself crying. you grabbed onto his hand, still cold. you squeezed it tightly in your hand, “renjun please, baby. don’t leave me..f..fuck.” you held it close to you, kneeling next to his lifeless body. you pleaded for this to be a fucked dream and you’d be awake soon with renjun alive and next to you. the doctors allowed you to say your last goodbyes before pulling you from the room. you stood outside of his hospital room. numbness and loneliness filled your body. you’ve just lost the only man you’ve ever loved, the only man who could ever make you feel important.

foot steps approach you, you looked up tears welling in your eyes. “yn..” the man stood in front of you. you shook your head, breaking down into his arms. “jeno..” your cries muffled into his chest. he rubbed your back, shushing you to calm you down. “count to ten for me, take it one number at a time.” jeno said to you quietly.

“one,

two,

ten.” jeno finished for you,

you looked up at him, eyes puffy from the way you’ve been crying. “you didn’t let me finish.” he smiled at you, “ten was his favorite number.”

written by @zchl on tumblr! give credits if reposting to other platforms. :)

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 20: Found family, Blanket

*shuffles feet*

...in my defense, I almost entirely finished this yesterday, I just wasn’t about to go trying to edit and post it at like 11:30 at night (though this note probably would have been a lot more interesting if I had lol).

Anyway. Continuation to day 17! I apologize for the delay and hope the wait was worth it 😓

Day 17

Read on ao3

Warnings: same as day 17, injuries, torture mentions, a short nightmare, just bad times for Twilight

————————————————————

Getting out was a blur.

Link forced himself to stay awake as the leader of the heroes (had he even said his name? ...If he had he couldn’t remember) carried him, but focusing on much of anything was difficult. The ever-present pain weighed him down like a heavy load, old scars and new injuries adding endless layers of suffering, and even just being carried in someone’s arms was agony.

There was the leftover burn from the magic too— though the chains that had secured him were gone, the manacles were still on his wrists and the collar was still around his neck, and they ached, his whole body still shaking from the ordeal of removing the chains.

It was a struggle not to just pass out.

But the part of him that still screamed not to trust stay on alert be prepared for him to come back was stronger. It had been honed from countless jarring awakenings, pain ripping him back from already restless sleeps, and so he stayed awake, no matter how badly he wanted to rest.

The man holding him shifted his grip as he went up some stairs, and Link felt his breath hitch as some of his injuries were nudged. The man whispered an apology, and gently squeezed one of the few spots of skin that didn’t have an open wound on it.

Link flinched anyway.

The touch immediately retreated, and Link was torn between being relieved and crying at the loss of it.

Part of him still expected them to suddenly turn on him, the kind touches becoming bruising ones, gentle hands turned to claws and knives. But... he also craved it. He desperately wanted somebody to pat him on the shoulder and hug him and run their hand through his hair, but any of the touch he’d received so far had been like torture.

He truly couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt a touch that didn’t involve pain in some way. He could barely stomach it now, no matter how well-meaning, and he hated it.

Was there anything left the Shadow hadn’t taken from him?

Voices suddenly rang down the hall, and Link stiffened, straining his ears to try and figure out who— or what they were.

One of the other heroes who’d gotten him out (the one with the Master Sword, he thought. He really needed names) called out, and soon there were unfamiliar faces and words being exchanged and questions directed at him and all he could do was close his eyes, overwhelmed by the sudden amount of people surrounding him.

How many were there?

“... got Legend pretty bad, but we beat him off and he disappeared,” a polished voice spoke, and Link twitched an ear his direction. What was he talking about? A legend?

“I’m fine,” a sharper voice cut in, and Link thought it seemed younger then the other one. “You didn’t need to use that fairy, that was our last one!”

“Well what was I supposed to do?”

“Save it for the reason we came here in the first place! He’s way more injured than I was!”

“Legend,” a softer voice spoke up, sounding exasperated, “...you were pretty bad. And you know we don’t take chances with injuries caused by the Shadow.”

A sick feeling abruptly surged over Link at the name, along with an intense hatred and fear and horror and too many emotions for his mind to handle at the moment. Link’s breath stuttered against his will, and the man holding him frowned.

“You don’t think the Shadow is still here, do you?” The small hero with the colorful tunic asked, and the voices paused.

“Probably... not,” Link croaked, and they all looked at him.

He swallowed.

“Do you know where he is?” a man in a deep blue scarf asked, and Link exhaled, gathering his strength.

“No,” Link managed to get out, and the voices stayed quiet. “Probably not. But he usually... usually powered ‘self before... fights.”

“...powered himself?” a younger voice asked in an anxious tone, and Link closed his eyes again. Hadn’t they known? Or at least figured it out based on what they’d seen?

All he was was a battery.

“Thank you Link, I’m sorry we brought it up,” the leader apologized, and Link made a noncommittal noise. “We’re almost out, hold on.”

They began moving again, and Link caught several people looking at him, though most of them stopped when they realized he’d noticed. A teenager with a stripe of pink in his hair didn’t though, and Link found himself staring, curious about the look of him. He gave him an awkward little nod, and Link tried to return it, though he wasn’t sure if he succeeded.

They were all so different, were these really heroes like him?

The Shadow had mentioned other heroes once or twice, but Link usually had no clue what he was talking about, or if he did, refused to say anything.

Besides, he was usually too busy screaming to listen anyhow.

Something bright shone out of the corner of his eye, and Link turned to look at it, his heart speeding up at the sight of a large entryway. The group hurriedly went through it, and Link was almost blinded from how bright it was after they walked through.

He blinked furiously, needing to see what was going on, and finally his eyes adjusted and he looked around in shock.

Sunlight.

Faint, barely-there, dim autumn sunlight that struggled to shine through the trees, but the sight of it nearly made Link sob.

He was outside.

He could see sunlight shining through yellow and orange leaves, eventually joined by the sound of birds and other creatures as they went along, air that wasn’t stale rushing past his face and making all his injuries hurt more but he didn’t care a bit.

He was out.

He was crying he realized, and he closed his eyes, overwhelmed by it all.

It wasn’t a trick. He’d never gotten this far the few times he’d been brought out, they were really who they said they were, they must be, and they’d gotten him out of the darkness.

Someone might’ve said something to him, but the overwhelming sensation of being outside had finally pushed Link to his limit, and he gave up on his fight to stay awake.

Darkness swept him away, it’s touch more gentle then he’d felt in a long time.

(...)

The heroes didn’t stop traveling until they were plenty far away from the oppressive ruins where they’d found Link, the trip passing in almost complete silence.

Link had passed out in Time’s arms not long after they’d finally exited, tears on his face, and Time couldn’t help but be somewhat relieved.

Watching Link remain in an almost stubborn state of alertness, ears twitching towards any sound, flinching when Time adjusted him, had been agonizing to watch. His body desperately needed rest, but he’d been stubbornly refusing it until they were out.

He’s certainly one of us, no doubt about that, Time thought with a sigh.

Sky grabbed a bedroll the moment they found a safe place to stop, and Time carefully lowered Link onto it, trying to avoid any injuries. He had several on his back, but they set him down as softly as possible, and Link didn’t wake.

“That’s really him?” Wind asked in a small voice as Warriors moved over to carefully look over all of Link’s injuries, cursing under his breath more than once.

“This is him,” Time replied quietly, trying to clean some of the blood and dirt out of Link’s hair. Now that they were out of the ruins, it was even more obvious how badly Link was in need of being cleaned up and cared for, and Time focused on not being overwhelmed by the task.

What all did he go through in there?

“What happened to him?” Legend said in a voice full of quiet horror, and Wild harshly kicked a rock into a tree.

“What didn’t?” he bit out in a fragile voice, and Sky put a hand on his arm, saying something that Time didn’t catch.

Warriors accidentally brushed a hand against Link’s collarbone then, and his eyes shot open, nearly throwing himself backwards away from the touch.

“Get away!” he snarled, voice hoarse, and Warriors immediately backed up.

“Whoa, easy,” Warriors quickly reassured, putting his hands up. “I’m only checking which of your injuries need to be cleaned so we can give you a potion. We don’t want anything healing inside them.”

Link glared at him in suspicion, but when Time moved into his line of sight, he relaxed a little.

“He’s helping, Link, I promise,” he reassured, and Link slowly relaxed, though he remained awake. Time glanced around at the other heroes as Warriors finished his examination, and saw that most of them were either looking at Link, or pointedly not looking at him as they worked on setting up camp.

It seemed none of them were quite certain how to deal with seeing one of their own in such a state.

Wild came over when he noticed Time watching them all, and he looked at Link, uncertainty on his face.

“Can I help at all?” he asked, voice stronger then it had been, and Time looked over at Warriors.

“These all need to be cleaned, and it’s not going to be easy for him,” the captain reported quietly, looking over his chest. “The faster we can get it done the better.”

“Link, we need to clean you up before we can heal you,” Time said as he knelt at his side, and Link gave him a bleary look. “It won’t be pleasant, but it needs to be done.”

Link breathed out and nodded, looking up at Time with shadows under his eyes.

“Go ahead,” he whispered.

Time gave him a faint smile, and Wild knelt beside him as they got to work.

It took a long time scrubbing all of the dirt out and disinfecting the injuries Link was coated in. They focused on cleaning the actual wounds, but Time knew Link would need the rest of himself cleaned up at some point, dirt and blood and all sorts of grime coated on his skin.

But that can wait.

Link was stiff throughout the entire process, trembling when they got to certain injuries, and trying not to cry out when they used the alcohol Warriors had provided to disinfect. The worst part was his face, which Time carefully washed up, but Link was nearly in tears by the time he finished cleaning the slice that cut right through the dark lines on his forehead.

But they finally finished, and Link sagged, his breathing shaking. Hyrule came forward then, and offered to heal him, and Link gave him a curious look.

“It’s a healing spell, it’ll be more thorough than a potion,” he explained. He faintly lit up his hands to demonstration, but Link immediately recoiled from the light.

“No, no n-no magic!” Link breathed, a flicker of terror in his eyes.

Hyrule immediately backed off, and Link’s cheeks flushed as he calmed down.

“I... I’m sorry, I-I...”

“No, I understand, that’s okay,” Hyrule said kindly, and Link swallowed and looked away, cheeks still red.

“Potions will be enough,” Time said peaceably, and Hyrule took out a few, handing them to Time. Though a fairy or healing spell would be preferable. “Take it slow, Link.”

Sky helped him carefully sit Link up, and Time helped him drink the entire red potion, slowly so as not to overwhelm his stomach. He eagerly sipped at it, and the most intense of his injuries began to knit closed, angry lines and deep gouges, and places that must be barely healed-over stab wounds—

Time exhaled, and lowered Link back to the ground as he finished, anger stirring in his chest.

The Shadow will pay for this.

“Try and get some more rest, Link. You’re safe with us,” Time said gently as he set the bottle aside, and rested a careful hand on Link’s.

He flinched, but after a long moment, slowly gripped it back. His hand shook as Time brushed his thumb over the dirtied triangles on the back, but he didn’t let go, even though Time knew holding on was hard.

You’re safe.

(...)

The next few days trickled by slowly, Link struggling to adjust to life not imprisoned in a hole being used as some sort of dark power source.

His injuries were healing, albeit slowly due to the sheer amount of them, but he was struggling more with the other scars his imprisonment had left him. He still couldn’t handle much touch, or large amounts of food, and he’d rarely sleep for long periods of time, waking up sweating and shaking from memories he hadn’t told the rest of them about yet.

Four made it his personal mission to remove the collar and bands from around his neck and wrists, since all they did was serve as a reminder for all them of the torture he’d endured.

Link wanted them off more than anyone, and he patiently sat through all of Four’s attempts at removal. The smithy finally succeeded with the help of some of Legend’s items and tools, Link nearly crying with relief at them gone, but the pale scars underneath the metal were almost worse.

They couldn’t be removed.

Time tried his best to help Link adjust, but it was hard when he could only give them the bare minimum of what he’d endured, and stubbornly tried to insist he was fine and they didn’t need to fuss over him. Even after he’d wake up gasping from a nightmare, Link would try to muffle his cries in order not to wake anyone, and couldn’t stand even a grounding hand on his shoulder.

It was at times like these Time wished Malon were here. She would know exactly how to comfort the traumatized boy they’d all found themselves with, better than Time ever could.

How do we help him, Malon? he thought one night as he studied Link’s slumbering face. His scars were harder to see in the dark, but Time knew they were there, slashed across his forehead, his chest... and his heart.

How did you ever handle me?

Time didn’t find any one answer, but as time slowly went by, Link did open up, at least a little. As they all explained more about themselves, he was willing to do so a bit too, explaining some of his journey, and telling the dark marks on his forehead actually weren’t a result of his imprisonment, though not exactly explaining what they were from.

His favorite thing to talk about was his home village though, and the longing in his voice was impossible to miss.

Time would have carried him there himself if it had been at all possible, but they were a long ways away from Ordon, and Link could barely walk across the clearing they were camped in without needing a rest. Taking him home would have to wait, as much as Time disliked it.

But in the meantime, the other heroes did their best to help Link as well, Wild figuring out what was easiest for him to eat, Warriors and Hyrule dutifully checking up on his injuries. Wind liked to tell him stories whenever he was struggling not to dwell on memories, sometimes getting Four to tell a few, and Legend even laid out his weapons and offered to let Link borrow one, until they could get him a sword of his own.

Sky often just let him hold the Master Sword, Link’s hands clutching the hilt as he sat in silence.

It seemed to comfort him, often when the rest of them couldn’t, and while Time couldn’t relate, he was glad it helped.

Time could also tell it was killing Sky not to be able to comfort Link with touch, at all, but Link was still working up to anything more then his hand being held. He would just have to do it at his own pace, as hard as it was to watch him struggle.

And things didn’t change in that regard, until all of a sudden they did.

(...)

Link closed his eyes as the tip of a blade pressed against his chin. He wouldn’t panic. This happened almost every day, and he wouldn’t panic. He wouldn’t give the Shadow the satisfaction of it.

“You’re not going to beg today?” he asked almost curiously, and Link licked his lips, tasting blood. “I might even listen, you never know.”

“I’ve never begged,” he said in a cold voice.

He wouldn’t stoop to that level, he’d sworn to himself he wouldn’t. It was one of the few ways he felt like he had a choice in the matter, and he knew it made the Shadow mad when when he remained silent.

He wouldn’t give his captor the satisfaction.

The Shadow leaned in so they were eye-to-eye, and Link stared at the crimson glow of his eyes, trying not to let his breath hitch.

“Well. Let’s see if we can change that, shall we?”

And then the blade flicked down, pain ripping across his chest. At at the same time the metal around his neck lit up like the lava on death mountain, burning into him, searing down the line where the sword had struck, and Link screamed as he felt magic bore into him and sap away every bit of his strength—

He woke up.

Link jerked upright, pain still blinding him, and he might’ve screamed but he wasn’t sure. Darkness was around him, lit only by the Shadow’s glowing eyes and he knew it had all been a dream, he hadn’t been rescued after all and he was never going to get out—

Link breathed heavily, clutching at his neck, certain he could still feel the collar, magic burning into him, feel his strength ripped away as injuries were torn into his chest—

“Link,” a soft voice said, and he heaved in another breath, hands still pressed to his neck. “Link, you’re out, you’re safe.”

He managed to raise his head, and saw Time kneeling carefully beside him, a hand outstretched in a calming gesture.

He swallowed, breathing in another shaky breath, and looked around, slowly recognizing the campsite they’d been at for the past several days. The light he’d seen was the campfire, not the Shadow’s eyes, and he felt relief start to soak through the terror.

He wasn’t there. He wasn’t back.

His breath hitched, and Time moved closer to him, offering him a hand to take if he wanted it.

Link stared at it, then began to shake, feeling suddenly overwhelmed at everything again.

He was out. He wasn’t a prisoner. He was out and safe and he’d been there for so long but he was out but he wasn’t home but he was home, brothers he never knew he had saving him and their kindness made his chest ache because he’d done nothing to deserve it and despite waking them up and slowing them down and pushing away their help they kept coming back and he’d done nothing—

A sob broke out of him as the sheer scale of everything suddenly crashed down onto him, and Time’s eye widened.

Then he leaned forward, and slowly, carefully, put an arm around him.

Link’s breath hitched with another sob, stiffening as the touch settled across his back, but as Time tried to move, he clutched at his arm, silently begging him not to let go. The touch was like fire on his back, but it soothed a part of him that he hadn’t even realized had been hurting so much.

Time hesitated as Link shuddered, then he lifted his other arm, pulling him into an actual hug, tight and warm.

That destroyed any composure Link had left, and he buried his face in Time’s shoulder, crying harder than he had in a long time. The touch all around him was awful and wonderful and agonizing and pure relief, and the sensation made him shake with how overwhelming it was.

“You’re okay,” Time whispered as Link fell to pieces in his arms. He ran a hand through his hair, and Link’s breath hitched on another sob. “You’re okay. I’ve got you, Link.”

Link had no clue as to the last time he’d received a hug, but this one, as messy and awful and painful as it was, was probably the best.

(...)

After that night, Link often found himself in a pile of heroes whenever he went to bed.

Wild would curl up at his side, Sky would end up with an arm flung out on top of him, Wind and Four by his head. Sometimes all of them would end up around him, and Link would nearly cry if he woke up and realized, falling back asleep more deeply then he had in months.

It was wonderful.

He was still struggling to get back on his own two feet, building his strength, still dealing with the fact that he’d always have the scars from his imprisonment, that he still sometimes woke up screaming in the middle of the night.

But he knew he’d have the others to support him, as hard as it was to let them. He still had moments where he’d push them away, when touch hurt instead of helped, when the thought of giving up crossed his mind, and didn’t seem like too bad of an option.

But he wouldn’t give up. Dark Link may have crushed him, but he wouldn’t be kept down, even though at times it seemed nearly impossible.

He would keep going.

And as Link leaned against Sky’s shoulder one night, Time’s arm over his shoulders, Wild and Four sitting leaned up against his feet while the others sat close by, it wasn’t nearly as hard to believe that he might be... okay.

Ordon would have to wait a bit longer, until he’d regained his strength, and could properly swing a sword, but until then...

A hand ran through his hair, and Link exhaled, the feeling of safety like a warm blanket around his shoulders.

...Link could wait.

[natasha-in-space]

Hello Mia, if this is not too much to ask, I would like to request something from you... Maybe a comfort fic from GE Saeran? I've been chasing the deadlines for my countless assignments and presentations all month to the point of overworking myself to the ground. I know I can be such an overachiever but I also know that I really have to work on this tendency of not knowing when to stop and rest.

I actually collapsed two weeks ago since I had to do presentation everyday so... I suppose my body kinda give in to the extreme fatigue. It was partly my fault for trying to stay up all night and not taking care of myself properly for the past days :')) Although, I was a bit upset and anxious since I lost 10% of my overall grade because I had to skip the last presentation of that week (the same day I collapsed and sleep the whole day to recover).

I suppose Saeran would understand and relate completely to my situation. Or maybe even scold me gently for doing that to myself when we both know that I wouldn't allow him (or Ray) to do that. Anyways, I hope you take your time and been doing well so far! Much love ❤️

"My love... I thought we agreed that you would take it easy today."

Saeran's voice is gentle and sweet, like honey, even as he lets out a small disapproving sigh at the sight of you hunched over your desk, your eyes glued onto your monitor screen. Closing the door behind him, he places a tray of freshly prepared mid-afternoon snacks at your bedside table. The room is quickly filled with the enticing aroma of still warm baked pastries and peach tea.

The rumbling coming from your stomach quickly reminds you that you haven't eaten a thing since early morning.

You feel like a child that just got caught in the act of stealing from the cookie jar. Of course you knew that you should be resting... The fact that you collapsed from exhaustion the day earlier was more than enough proof of your desperate need to let your body relax and recover. Yet, while your body was utterly worn out, your mind was far too restless for you to remain still in your bed like you were supposed to. It was far too eager to push you to make sure that you were perfect. That you didn't miss out on any progress in your wasted time of sleep. Even though, rationally, you understood that sleep was anything but wasteful.

You feel a warm hand resting itself on top of your head, starting to gently caress your hair in a way that is so relaxing, you almost want to close your eyes and fall asleep right then and there. Saeran's touch was always too soothing for your own good. It was far too easy to just forget about everything in the world and melt into his warmth. You tried to hold back on that, though, shaking your head and rubbing your tired eyes with a somewhat sleepy groan.

Wouldn't want to pass out again.

"I know, I know... I'm taking it easy, I promise. I just got to read through this part one more time to make sure it's perfect. I already lost so much time yesterday, and-"

"Y/N."

Saeran's voice becomes more determined, growing firmer, like a loving parent disciplining their child for playing outside in the cold for too long. He doesn't even need to say anything more for you to lower your head and sigh in defeat. You knew he was right, after all. What you were doing wasn't good for you. Of course, he was worried. If your roles were reversed, you would have done the same for him. In fact, that exact scenario happened more than you could count.

"...I'm being stupid, aren't I?"

Saeran hums softly, his hands now gently resting on your shoulders as he slowly and carefully starts to massage your aching muscles, easing the tension out of your tired body. His hands are so comforting that you can't help but sigh in content, leaning back into his touch. He leans down to murmur into your ear, his voice as soft as ever: "You are not being stupid, flower. You know how much I admire your hard work and dedication. There is nothing stupid about you putting your all into something. It makes me love you even more."

Gosh, does he have to praise you even now...? You almost feel like crying.

You are wondering if he will ever become truly angry or frustrated with you. Your hands are rubbing together as you gaze drifts between your work and your shaky fingers. You knew this shakiness was probably yet another proof of your body needing rest instead of even more work you were forcing yourself to go through. You tilt your head slightly in Saeran's direction, feeling his hair tickle your cheek. He smelled sweetly of peach, probably a result of him brewing that tea for you. "But...?"

"-But you also need to rest and take care if yourself for you to truly give it your all. I love seeing your eyes light up with joy when you get the results you wished for... And I love that determined and focused look on your face when you are working on something you want to do good at. I love hearing you talk to me about everything you are working on. I love seeing you enjoy yourself." He leans in to kiss your nose, which inadvertently makes you smile and giggle, even through your fatigue. He returns your smile with one of his own, before he continues, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear. "But I don't love seeing you tired, anxious and upset. I was so worried for you... I wouldn't want anything like that to happen to you ever again."

Ah... He was worried, wasn't he?

You purse your lips together, feeling a small dull ache in your chest, making you quickly raise a hand to his cheek. With a slight shaky sigh, he immediately leans into your touch. He was so patient and caring with you throughout this whole ordeal... You didn’t even think that it must have scared or stressed him out to see you collapse like that. In a way, it looks like you both kept some things bottled up. It's almost funny, in a way.

But, mostly ironic.

"I'm sorry I worried you, Saeran... I should've been more careful. It must have been scary for you to see me like that..."

Saeran chuckles slightly and shakes his head. He seems both amused and touched by your apology, his eyes twinkling as he looks down at you. "This isn't about me, love. But, I'll take your words to heart. Thank you."

He takes hold of your hand that was resting on his cheek, nuzzling it, and placing a few light kisses down the side of your wrist. A display of affection that causes your heart to flutter with fondness for him.

He was far too sweet sometimes...

"I know what it's like to want to be perfect... How heavy it can feel to carry the weight of all these expectations on your shoulders. But, you're the one who taught me that I don't need to be perfect to be loved and worthy, my love. You taught me, that I am deserving of love simply for being born into this world. Nothing more. You freed me from those shackles of self-doubt I put myself in because of what I've been told my whole life. And I want to do the same for you. Whenever you feel like it's all too much, whenever it feels like you are about to be crushed under all the pressure and expectations that were put on you... Take a small moment to look up at the sky, and think of me. Think of how I'll love you in any form you take. Remember that I am always cheering for you, however far away from you I am. And that my heart is always there with you, wanting to envelop you in my tender love and care. So, treat yourself kindly. Like I would treat you."