#outcome 3 x reader

[eyelessfaces]

An Outcome 3 and/or Orestes moodboard?

we have so little about his character I did my best </3

🦐

[nowritingonthewall]

Long Promised Road

Pairing: David (Outcome 3) x GN!reader

Fandom: The Bourne Legacy

Rating: M (Mature)

Word count: 7400

Summary: After more than three years of not knowing what happened to David, you get a chance to reunite with the love of your life.

Warnings: Themes of severe emotional pain and loneliness (Please please don’t read if you fear that you might not be able to cope, even if this means scaring off the only two potential readers for this story!), a grown-up man showing emotions, moments of panic, one superficial physical wound mention (no specific description), some mild swear words, the reader drives a car, lots of angst but there is a hopeful and happy ending!

The story takes place in and around Arizona, but this doesn’t necessarily mean that the reader is American.

A/N: Hiya 🥰 This is my very first attempt at writing a one-shot, which was inspired by the 2021-05-12 prompt for Writer Wednesday organized by the wonderfully amazing @autumnleaves1991-blog

Thank you to the sweet and lovely Ayen, Autumn & Cece for giving David his name <3

Please be aware that I am not a native speaker, so I sincerely apologize in advance for any crimes committed against the beautiful English language!

So hard to answer future's riddle When ahead is seeming so far behind So hard to laugh a child-like giggle When the tears start to torture my mind So hard to shed the life of before To let my soul automatically soar

As you listened to the song on the car radio, driving down the endless roads of America’s Southwest, while the AC utterly failed at brushing the merciless Arizona summer off your face, you could not help but giggle yourself at how much the lyrics of the Beach Boys’ song resonated with your current situation. The giggle was neither child-like, nor was it bitter, it was more like a mirror of a mix of too many emotions fighting to bubble to the surface, leaving you in a state of sheer confusion as you tried to make sense of what lay behind as much as what might lay ahead.

There were no tears, tough. You had stopped crying a long time ago. Three years, two months, three weeks and five days, to be exact. The day after you had seen him for the last time. The day after he had told you that he would have to leave you because it was the only way to keep you safe. The day after you had begged him not to go because you didn’t care that the people responsible for his fate had found out about your love. Because you didn’t care about what they would do to you if they tracked down your identity and because you would have done whatever was necessary to just keep him in your life.

You could still feel the tender touch of his soft hands on your face as he had gently coerced you to look into his eyes that had mirrored your own pain, his breaking voice echoing in your head. 

“I know that I can’t make you promise to forget about me. And I won’t. But… will you promise me that you will at least try to be happy again? Please, Angel, can you… can you do that for me?”

You had tried. You had tried so hard, even if it was just for the fact that you had promised him you would. So you had kept meeting people. Good people, kind people, decent people. But all of them seemed to pale and turn to ashes right in front of your eyes, the moment that even the tiniest memory of him resurfaced in the canyons of your mind.

There was a hole in the shape of him in your life and the more you tried to mend it, the deeper it seemed to burn itself into your heart, your mind, your soul and every aspect of your very existence. Not unlike the Colorado River, the path of which you were currently following. The more layers of sediment were neatly deposited on top to bury whatever lay beneath, the deeper its eroding forces seemed to cut into the ground until they laid bare the heavily jointed bedrock. Full of ragged fault lines, it had been destroyed and restructured by indescribably merciless forces of heat and pressure so often that it was ready to crumble and turn to dust the moment it was brought to the surface.

You had been just about ready to accept that you would have to live with that gaping wound in your heart for the rest of your life when you had received the letter. It had not really said much, just that there had been some developments, that – if you wanted to – you could meet to talk, that he would understand if you did not want to, and it had stated the day and time when he would be waiting for you at the place where you had met for the very first time. You smiled fondly to yourself as you remembered your first meeting as if it had happened yesterday.

Your then significant other had taken you on a vacation that had included an all inclusive visitor experience of the West Rim of the Grand Canyon. In order to take the perfect picture in front of the famous rock formation shaped like an eagle, they had made you pose over and over again, urging you to step closer and closer to the edge of the canyon. Weary of any discussion, you had simply hoped that it would be okay and for a while it had been, until suddenly, it was not and the ground had literally given way beneath your feet.

While people above you had started to scream and activate the cameras on their phones in presumably equal measure, you had clung to a ledge for dear life as your feet had dangled in the air with about six feet to go up and definitely too many feet to go down. You had just started to debate with yourself whether it was actually time to make peace with your maker, when all of a sudden, a curly head had appeared right next to you, telling you in the calmest of voices that he would get you back to safety and all you would have to do was trust him.

The moment you had seen the mixture of kindness, determination, encouragement and calmness in his eyes, your panic had immediately been replaced by a kind of trust you had never felt before in your life. You vaguely remembered strong arms taking hold of you and more soothing words and a lot of clapping and attention by the crowd after that but you would never forget that first look into his unbelievably warm and kind eyes and the moment you had simply known that you would be safe.

Not only had he brushed off the fact that he had literally just saved your life (and risked his own in the process) as if it was nothing, he had also personally made sure that you were okay, whereas your significant other had run off pretty quickly.

As your legs had suddenly forgotten how to work, he had gently guided you to a quiet place in the cool shadow of a Joshua tree to sit down, discreetly checked you over for any sustained injuries and carefully treated some superficial wounds on your arms after checking whether this would be all right with you. He had even got you a fresh bottle of water from a booth in plain view of you so that you would know that he had not tempered with it. Despite the fact that you had been vulnerable and in shock and it would have been more than easy for him to take advantage of that, he had not even tried to make a pass at you once. He had simply kept talking to you in the warmest and most soothing voice you had ever heard until you had stopped shaking. At the slightest sign of you shivering again due to the cooling evening air, he had laid a woolly sweater around your shoulders, which had felt nearly as soft as the tender look in his eyes. Deep down in your heart you had known there and then that you would never ever want to let him go again.

So, if you were honest, your decision had been made before you had even finished reading the letter. Of course you had to go. It wasn’t even a question. Even if the possibility of this being a very elaborate trap had crossed your nightmares more than once. Even if it could mean that they had finally found out about your identity. Even if you could turn up there to discover that they had sent a person to inform you that he was gone. Hell, for all you knew, the biogenetical overlords might finally have decided that love wasn’t a crime after all, and this was his way of introducing you to his spouse, their three children and their dog named Boo. You had no way of knowing what had happened to him during the last three years. The only thing that you knew, the only thing that you could be absolutely sure of, was that if you didn’t do this, you would regret it for the rest of your life.  

Moreover – apart from the fact that nobody else actually knew where you had first met and that the place would be crowded with people making it really hard to pull any kind of stunt – the letter had been signed with his name. The name you had given him. The name nobody else ever used, because to everyone else he was just outcome no. 3. To this day you had not forgotten how his eyes would soften and light up, whenever you had called him by his name.

Like you had the morning after you had spent your first night together. Not only had you just slept all through the night for the first time since you could remember, you had also slumbered way longer than usual as your body had decided that it had finally found the safest place in the world to relax at – the soft embrace of his arms.

When you had started to stir and found your head resting on his chest with your hand on his tummy, you had felt those very same arms gently pulling you closer, before their owner had placed an affectionate kiss on the top of your head. You had started to hum in sweet contentment, when you had caught sight of the alarm clock on the night stand and you had suddenly jerked awake gasping “Shit! Shit! Shit! Why didn’t you wake me?!”

The chuckle that you had heard rumbling in his chest hadn’t just calmed you down instantly, it had also been added immediately to your list of your most favourite sounds in the world. “Because I didn’t have the heart to wake you when you were slumbering so peacefully. And you are way too adorable to look at. Oh, and a good morning to you, too, Angel!” he had grinned down at you with eyes so warm that you probably should have started to worry about the melting of the ice caps at the poles, had you been able to concentrate on anything else but his loving gaze.

“Good morning, David!” you had smiled back at him and the sparkle that had radiated from his eyes had warmed your heart even more. “I love it when you call me that!” he had whispered cradling your head and tenderly caressing your cheek with his thumb. “I’m glad to hear that,” you had answered, “because I don’t intend to ever stop calling you David again.” To put some emphasis on your words, you had turned your head and kissed the palm of his hand before starting to leave lazy kisses on his shoulder and his chest, with each one being followed by another soft whisper of his name.      

As you had gazed up at him again, he had gently smoothed your hair out of your face, before lightly pressing his soft lips to your forehead. When he had started to leave a trail of kisses down your nose, you had kept your head exactly where it was, with your lips just out of his reach, until he had grunted in frustration. “Oh, you are being cheeky again!” he had mock-complained, clearly referring to the night before, when you had accidentally found out how ticklish he was and had taken full advantage of that newly-gained knowledge.

Now, as you had slowly and playfully let your hand wonder down towards a particularly ticklish spot on his belly, he obviously had felt the need to repay you, as he had suddenly grabbed you and turned you over to make you lie on your back making you squeal in surprise. The following tickle attack had made you squeal even louder before your squeaking had turned into laughter and your laughter had turned into hiccups. When you had started to beg for mercy, he had playfully pinned your arms down by your side and leaned over you, bringing his face within inches of yours. “Will you let me kiss you now?” he had asked trying to sound stern with the gleam in his eyes clearly betraying him. “Hm… let me think about that…nonono!”

As he had resumed tickling you even more intensely, your attempts to escape his skilled fingers had become more eager until you had both tumbled out of bed with him coming to lie atop of you. “Oh sh… I didn’t mean to… Angel, are you okay?” The concern in his voice had made your heart swell with so much love, you hadn’t able to stop yourself from immediately pulling him towards you and instead of answering, you had buried your fingers in his curls and pressed your lips on his, moving against him until he had been groaning into your kiss. “Never better… David!” you had smiled up at him when you had finally broken apart.

As he had rested his forehead against yours, the shining sparkles in his eyes had turned into tears but before you had been able to react, he had already pulled you up into his strong arms and warm embrace. As he had held you close with one hand, the other had been cradling the back of your head and the warmth and fondness and care and tenderness that he had put into his kiss had been so overwhelming and all encompassing, you could still feel it to this day.     

“For you were my first love and first love never ever dies…” The car radio snapped you out of your trip down memory lane and pulled you back into the present. Raising your eyebrows you let out an overdramatic sigh, not really knowing whether it was directed at the Walker Brothers or the car. “Seriously, you are just trying to mock me now, aren’t you?”

Before you could dive into a full-blown argument with the radio, however, the West Rim visitor car park at the Grand Canyon came into view and you had to divert all of your concentration to not hitting any of the parking cars as your excitement and anxiety were competing for which would be able to stretch your nerves the furthest. You miraculously managed to scan your admission ticket without breaking the machine and hopped on the shuttle bus that would bring you to Eagle Point, before your legs had a chance to give out. The awe-inspiring beauty of the surrounding landscape, which under different circumstances would have taken your breath away, was completely lost on you as you had to concentrate on remembering how to breathe in general.

Even though you had arrived with nearly an hour to spare, you couldn’t keep yourself from immediately starting to scan the crowds for him, the second you stepped off the bus. It only took a few moments for your heart to start somersaulting as you spotted him between the hordes of tourists taking picture upon picture or fighting for a place in the queue of people waiting to step onto the Skywalk. None of them noticed how you suddenly started to sway as you realized that he was standing in the shadows of the very same tree that the two of you had sat under together all those years ago. You and him. David and you.

To any other observer, he easily might have passed for just another travel blogger or instagram celebrity searching for that spontaneous snapshot which would only take three hours to arrange. Not to you, though. You would have recognized those curls anywhere, even though they seemed to have grown even softer and fluffier since the last time you had laid eyes on them.

Instead of one of his cosy sweaters you had gotten so used to during the short time you had been allowed to spend with him, he was wearing a plain blue t-shirt, which perfectly accentuated his broad shoulders and – you were certain despite the fact that his back was currently turned to you – his sturdy chest, which had always felt as if it had been made for you to lean against. You had to steady yourself against some rocks, partly because you were hoping to persuade your body and soul to stop trembling so violently and partly because you were still trying to figure out what exactly the nature of this meeting was supposed to be.

Just as you remembered how to set one foot in front of the other, you saw him turn around. His face was mostly hidden by large and dark sunglasses, leaving him nearly unrecognizable if it hadn’t been for his smile. That smile, which could lighten up even your darkest days and which seemed to shine that much brighter whenever he directed it at you. Exactly like he did now. Despite the sunglasses, you could nearly feel how those gorgeous crinkles would form right next to his eyes. Those beautiful warm brown eyes, which had always been so full of nothing but love and adoration for you, so intense and yet unbelievably soft, never failing to both blow you away and draw you in at the same time. Your memory, however, seemed to pale in comparison to what you now saw in front of you. As he slowly approached you and pushed his glasses up into his curls, the warmth and sincerity radiating from his eyes immediately drove away any anxiety and doubt, which you might have had prior to coming here.

It took every ounce of self-restraint you could muster up to keep yourself from immediately throwing your arms around him and pulling him as close to you as humanly possibly, as he incredulously breathed out your name and slowly brought his hand to your face gently touching your cheek as if to make sure that you were actually real and not just another mirage. “You came!” 

He was so careful, giving you every opportunity to pull away should you wish to do so, while every fibre in your body and soul was screaming at you to launch yourself at him already.

“Please don’t worry, we are not being watched,” he added quickly, obviously eager to put you at ease. “I am so sorry for being so cryptic in the letter, I just… I couldn’t take any chances that might have put you in any kind of danger and… you must have so many questions…”

You started with the most important one, “Can I hug you?” You just couldn’t help yourself. Judging by his reaction, this was not the type of question that he had expected, as he gasped, “Wha… of course, you can!”

There wasn’t the slightest hint of awkwardness as you let him draw you into his embrace burying your face in the crook of his neck. This didn’t feel like hugging an estranged man who you hadn’t seen in more than three years, this simply felt like coming home. His scent was even more comforting than you remembered it and you drank him in like a person dying of thirst in the desert.

The scorching and relentless heat in all of Arizona would not have been able to compete with the warmth that flooded your senses the moment that you melted into his arms. It was not relentless and tiring and deadly. It was all embracing yet never suffocating. Perfectly satisfying and still leaving you craving more. Like a hot stream of lava, only instead of leaving a trace of burning and destruction, it immediately turned the barren deserts of your soul into fertile soil.

“I have missed you,” you mumbled against his softness. This did not even come close to what you actually wanted to say and your inner turmoil of everything that was fighting to bubble to the surface. You could feel his breath hitch, but instead of answering, he just hugged you tighter ever so slightly. Nevertheless, you also noticed how cautious he was, how he trembled wherever your skin came in contact with his, how he seemed to fight to control his breathing, how you could feel his heart beating even faster than yours. Moreover, there were way too many people watching.

So you allowed yourself to cling to him just long enough to convince yourself that he was actually real before letting go. As you relaxed your grip on him, so did he, even though his reluctance to do so wasn’t lost on you.

His hand seemed to find yours automatically and from then on he kept your hand in his as if he was afraid that you would disappear the moment that he would let go. He held your hand as he told you that he had rented a lodge nearby and that you could go there to talk, but only, and only if you wanted to. He held your hand as you walked back to the shuttle bus stop. He held your hand during the whole ride back to the car park. He held your hand as you stepped off the bus and walked to his car. He could barely be persuaded to let go of your hand for long enough for you both to get in the car and for him to sit down behind the wheel.

So you gingerly placed your hand on his arm and gently squeezed it whenever he would glance over to you as if he needed to make sure that you were still there. You kept your hand on his arm, when he told you how he had spent the last three years in a remote cabin in Alaska, when he told you about the drone strike, when he told you in a matter-of-fact voice how he had managed to escape with less than a second to spare before the cabin had been blown to smithereens, when he told you how he had left his radio-frequency identification in the cabin to fake his death, and when he told you that he had spent the last three months in hiding until he could be sure that they had bought it and how he had been trying to find you. You…

You could see how he tried to hide the question burning in his eyes and settle for a more neutral approach, “So how… how have you been?”

“Oh, I am… fine,” you answered knowing perfectly well that you didn’t fool anyone, especially not him.

“And is there… “ he tried again, “I mean, have you…?”

His voice was as soft and gentle as ever, but there really was no soft way of putting this, so you went for the blunt approach, “No, there is no one in my life. I still live alone. I tried to make it work, several times, I really did, but… well, it just never really worked out.” There it was.

“Oh…”

You couldn’t help but visibly wince when he turned his head revealing his face to you. You did not know what you had expected to find there. Maybe some kind of relief, maybe even a hint of happiness, but certainly not the deep sadness with which he looked at you. “I had hoped…” he started in a small voice, before turning his attention back to the road and clearing his throat, “I really hoped that you would find someone you could be happy with…”

The sudden and sharp pain piercing your heart made you dig your fingers of your free hand into your thigh so hard, it nearly made your eyes water, which was actually the opposite of what you had hoped to achieve. This wonderful and precious man, who was so full of love to give, the kindest-hearted man who had ever stepped into your life, had just returned from three years of exile, forced to live locked away in a cabin at the end of the world without so much as a touch or kind word by another human being. And yet, the first time that he allowed himself to show even the tiniest trace of sadness in front of you, it was out of concern for you.

At that moment, you remembered how to cry. But you couldn’t show any tears, not yet, not here. If you allowed yourself to cry now, he would blame himself for hurting you and you knew that it would break him. If there was anything left in him to break. The thought hit you so hard and so unexpectedly out of nowhere, you had to bite your tongue to keep yourself from crying out loud.

You were more than relieved when you finally arrived at the lodge.

He had sworn to himself that he would take it slowly. He had sworn to himself he would not urge you or rush you or ask for anything that you were not ready to give. He had sworn to himself that he would not bombard you with an outburst of emotions that might scare you or drive you away. But the moment that the door of the lodge fell shut, the moment that you were drawn into each others arms again as if driven by an invisible force, shielded from prying eyes, he could sense his resolve melt away.  

The icy prison he had built around his heart had started to thaw the second that he had found you in the crowd today. Those countless layers of biting and bitter cold he had not even realized were there.

Because the moment he had been forced to leave you behind, more than three years ago, he had gone back to being outcome 3. And outcome 3 was not supposed to have feelings. The notion of him experiencing what it felt like to fall in love, let alone learn what it felt like to be loved in return, made him a statistical outlier jeopardizing the success of the whole experimental set-up. 

So he had allowed icy layer upon icy layer to freeze around his heart until he had no longer been able to feel what lay beneath it. He had built a layer so thick that he did not notice how, instead of providing protection, the masses of ice kept grinding in all its brutal force, its sharp edges cutting deep into the tender softness below, as if it was nothing.

He had stopped to feel. This did not mean that he had forgotten, though. It was the gentle memory of you that had kept him sane through those dark and cold and lonely days and nights. And while he had never dared to dream of ever meeting you again, he had still clung to the thought that him staying in exile had been the only way of keeping you safe, of giving you the chance of having a life.

And now you were here. And you were so soft and warm and suddenly so near and real, when a mere two hours ago he had been convinced that he would never see you again. He had expected anything but being embraced by your welcoming arms as if the last three years had never happened. All he had hoped for was a chance to tell you what had been going on, because he would not have been able to bear the thought of you accidentally finding out that he had been killed in an explosion.

He just wanted to talk to you but as he opened his mouth, he suddenly had to gasp for air, as he forgot how to breathe and as he saw you reaching out for him, your eyes full of concern and worry and pain, his ragged breaths turned into heart-wrenching sobs.

The icy glacial landscape of his soul stood no chance against your radiating light and warmth and the melting masses came crashing down the mountainside, sweeping away everything that stood in their path. And the rising flood threatened to drown him.

As the ice thawed, revealing the damage that lay beneath, his violent sobs turned into cries of pain and suddenly he realized that you were no longer there. So he tried to call your name, he was screaming for you but his lungs refused to fill with air. He had to find you, he needed to get you back to safety, he had promised you, he couldn’t allow you to be pulled down with him.

But how could he keep you safe, when he had lost his footing and just kept kicking frantically against the nothingness. Against the vast emptiness that had become his life. He couldn’t see you. He couldn’t find you. And as he plunged into cold and darkness, his cries of pain turned into screams of agony.

He had lost you again.

He almost welcomed the cold and dark that was about to engulf him. It provided a welcome distraction from the emptiness that was about to become his reality once more.

Yet through his tears of despair, as he was about to be submerged beneath the raging waves, he could make out a faint glow in the distance. You were his guiding light, like you had always been. No longer a feeble flickering of a light house on a far away and unreachable shore that he had gotten so used to. Though it was too dark for him too really see, he could sense that you were near. You were there, you were calling for him, you were reaching for him. As the darkness threatened to take him, you found his hand and pulled him towards the light again and again. Over and over, you reminded him how to breathe. Just as he was about to sink, you guided him out of the raging waters and the roaring storm until you had pulled him safely to shore.

“I am right here by your side, my love. I am holding you. You are safe in my arms.” Slowly, your tender words reached through the storm clouds of his tormented soul and guided him back into the present. He could not remember how the two of you had ended up sitting on the floor. Somehow his head had come to rest on your shoulder, while one of your hands gently steadied him against your chest as he could feel your other hand stroking tenderly up and down his back. You were here. You were here and you were so warm. He carefully whispered your name, his voice hoarse and barely audible, “you are here!” - “Yes, my love,“ you assured him, once more, “I am here!” And he knew that he would be safe in your arms.

After a while, you suggested that maybe you should get up from the floor, but his legs seemed to have forgotten how to work. So you helped him up and gently guided him over to the bed to sit down. You got a glass of fresh water for his burning throat and kept talking to him in your soothing voice until he stopped shaking.

“I’m sorry!” he choked out still fighting to find his voice again, “I am so sorry, this wasn’t… this isn’t how our meeting was supposed to go…”

“Oh, Sweetie, no!” you interrupted him gently but firmly. “There is nothing you have to apologize for, David, this… this isn’t your fault!”

“David… “ he repeated slowly as his shaky breath turned into another sob, “I haven’t… nobody has… I forgot…”

He had not heard this name in such a long time and yet here you were, addressing him with his name as if it was the most natural thing in the world, as if he was a human being, not another statistical random sample in a cruel lab experiment designed to create the perfect super weapon.

He was so touch starved that he could not help but whimper when you gently brought your loving hand to his face to wipe away his tears. He whimpered even more heartbreakingly when you withdrew your hand upon his reaction. Instead of pulling away, however, your movements just became softer and gentler. Your lips brushed his temple ever so tenderly as you whispered his name again, “David.”

Your next kiss carefully caressed his cheek, “My David.” Then he could feel your impossibly warm lips on his forehead, “My sweet David.” Another kiss brought your soft lips to the corner of his mouth, “My sweet and wonderful David.”

Every single kiss felt like its own confession of your feelings for him. Every loving brush of your warm softness against his skin seemed to take care of another wound on the rugged surface of his torn spirit. Not like a disinfectant burning his sore soul, not like a band aid carelessly thrown on his bleeding heart, but like a soothing balm with no other intention than to heal any cut, any bruise, any trace of pain and grief he had ever suffered in his life. You did not stop until his helpless whimpers had turned into more steady breaths. And when you brought your hand to the side of his face to caress his cheek once more, he automatically leaned into your touch, just like he had used to.

“You are loved, David. You are so loved.”

As he gazed into your eyes and found nothing but gentle warmth and tender fondness and endless adoration in them, his own eyes began to fill with tears once more. Only, this time his tears were not made of pure pain and grief and despair, they stemmed from a heart so overflowing with love for you that it could never be contained in the life of just one human being.

And suddenly the urgent need to hold you washed over him. He just really, really needed to hold you in his arms. Before he could reach out for you, however, you were already there, ready to be pulled towards his chest and towards his heart.

“I love you!” he whispered as he buried his face in your hair and his voice broke again, “I love you so much!”

There was so much more that he wanted to tell you and at the same time there was nothing that he could tell you that he felt you didn’t already know. So you just sat there, melting into each others embrace, listening to your hearts beating for each other, breathing in the scent, drinking in the closeness, bathing in the comforting warmth of each other.

“David?” you asked softly after a while.

“Hmmm?” he hummed against your temple.

“Please don’t leave again?” It was a plea as much as it was a question and he involuntarily pulled you a little closer. He might have found shelter from the storm, but this didn’t mean that it had actually passed. He didn’t want to leave you again. Oh God, of course, he didn’t. If only he could hold you in his arms like this for the rest of his life.

“I’d be okay with that!” you smiled against his chest. He hadn’t even realized that he had said his last thought out loud. As he reluctantly relaxed his embrace to look at you, he found the same dreamy and soft look in your eyes that had warmed his heart on the morning after the first night you had spent in each others arms. He would have done anything to keep you gazing up at him like that, to keep any harm and pain as far away from you as possible. Yet all he seemed to be able to do was cause you pain and grief.

“I have hurt you so much…” he said quietly with his voice beginning to tremble again.

“No, you haven’t!” you answered with gentle conviction. “I meant what I said earlier. None of this was your fault. David, you are the only person in my life who has never ever hurt me.”

Your voice was so soft and tender. So devoid of any judgement of what he was or might become on a research company’s whim. You had never ignored that side of him, you had accepted it, because it was a part of him and yet you had decided that it didn’t define him and that he was so much more. And what did he have to offer you in return?

“You deserve so many things that I will never be able to give you…”

“David… David, there I nothing I need that you haven’t given me already!“

He wished he could believe you. The same way that you seemed to believe it. But all he could do was shake his head, bite his lip and squeeze his eyes shut as tears began to run down his cheeks again.

“Sweetie,” he heard you saying softly, “you don’t have to hide your tears. Not from me!” It was not like he did not know. He knew you would never judge him and that he would never have to hide a single feeling from you. But the concern and worry, the way how he found his own pain mirrored in your eyes, just tore him apart.

He began to roughly rub at his eyes with his palms, as if the motion could will his tears away. If he could only rub the pain from his own eyes, then maybe he could make it vanish from yours as well. His motions were about to become even more violent, when he felt your soft hands on his own as you carefully took hold of them to guide them away from his eyes and placed a gentle kiss on each of his hands. Not letting go of them, you caressed the back of his hands with the pads of your thumbs before slowly leaning forward and replacing every single tear with the love-filled sensation of your warm lips on his sensitive skin.

As he allowed himself to lean into your tenderness, his tears began to flow even more heavily. Never before in his life had he felt so vulnerable and at the same time taken care of so well. You carried his fragile heart in your hands. Its torn softness lay bare before you and the slightest absent-minded movement could cause irreparable damage. He had never meant to put this kind of burden on you. Yet you were so gentle, so careful, so patient, so understanding. Never pushing him and never ever asking for anything in return.

As you cradled the back of his head and gently guided him to come to rest against your chest again, he put his arms around you hugging you tight. His sobs subsided to the rhythm of your hands tenderly smoothing over his hair. Nobody had ever let him lean on them the way that you did. And he wished for nothing more than to be able to give you something in return. To be there for you the same way that you had been for him.

“You deserve someone who isn’t broken. Someone who can be strong for you!” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“Oh, Sweetie…” Hugging him even tighter, you placed a soft kiss on his temple before continuing, “Not being okay doesn’t make you any less strong or brave. It just makes you human!”

“But I should… I should have been the one taking care of you this time.”

“David, you have! You spent the last three years in exile to keep me safe!”

He had never phrased it like that. He had never told you that this was part of the deal he had had to agree to. Looking up again, he began to shake his head vigorously. “Nonono, please… please, don’t… don’t make it sound as if you should feel guilty, as if you owe me anything…”

“Oh, but I do,” you gently interrupted him, “I owe you so much. My life, for instance.”

Your eyes were so full of warmth and sincerity. And your unwavering trust in him. A trust so unshakable that it would be capable to wash away the doubts that he might have had in himself. But he had sworn to himself to never ever put you in danger again.

Closing his eyes for moment, he took a shaky breath.

“I promised to keep you safe.”

“And you did!” you answered without missing a beat.

“No, Angel, please! Please listen.” His voice took on a desperate tone. “You see, I can’t… I cannot guarantee… I have no idea what’s going to happen now that I am no longer taking my chems… what this is going to do to me and my body or my brain and…”

What kind of monster he might turn into. Even though he didn’t say it out loud, he caught the briefest flicker of pain in your eyes, before your gaze softened and you stated firmly, “Whatever is going to happen, I will be there with you!”

Despite the determination in your voice, the way you looked at him seemed to become even warmer than before. But what right did he have to claim that warmth of yours, no matter how freely you were offering it to him?

“I cannot ask that of you, my love!”

“You don’t have to!”

Your eyes began to glisten with tears while you obviously fought to keep your voice steady. “You don’t have to go through this alone!”

He tried to concentrate on the softness in your eyes which seemed to try to convince him that he wasn’t responsible for your tears. Yet despite their endless tenderness, they weren’t able to drown out the voices that kept screaming at him for making you cry.

“I just couldn’t … I couldn’t bear to see you hurt again,” he whispered weakly.

“Nothing could hurt me more than not spending my life beside you.”

He couldn’t help but begin to slowly shake his head. “I don’t deserve…”

“No, shhhh!” Cupping his cheek, you gently made him turn his face until he looked at you again.

“You deserve to be happy, David. You deserve to be loved.”

He wanted to believe you. So badly. “Angel, when… when you look at me like that, I can… I can almost believe it myself.”

“Hey…” Still holding his cheeks, you tenderly caressed them with your thumbs. “Hey. It’s okay if you aren’t there yet. Because wherever ’there’ might be, we can go there together.”

Smoothing the curls from his forehead, you left a soft kiss there, as if putting emphasis on your words, before resting your forehead against his and smiling, “Till the end of the road. And beyond.” And he knew that your warmth and fondness and care and tenderness would warm his heart and soul forever.

“You said you had hoped that I would find someone to be happy with, David. And I have found him!”

And finally, he allowed his mind to catch up with what his heart had known all along. Because this time he knew. He knew that he would never ever want to let you go again.

Thank you so much for reading :) Please remember that you are loved <3

[eroticandawkward]

In an attempt to get myself to write more, I'm opening up a little ask game people can do! Anyone can request, and you can send in multiple requests!

Characters I'll write for:

Cecil Dennis

Any of the Moon Knight boys

Blue Jones

William Tell

Rydal Keener

Outcome 3 from the Bourne Legacy (mlm only)

Nathan Bateman

Jack from Mojave

Poe Dameron (mlm or nblm only)

Santiago Garcia

Robbie Paulson (from that one law and order episode lol)

🍆Send me one of the prompts below and a character and I'll write you a little drabble (you can specify if the reader is on top/bottom and/or the dom/sub if you so desire!)

🙈Blindfolds

🙏Body Worship

➰️Bondage

😫CBT

🥵Cockwarming

👯Double Penetration (your choice of second character; can be in the same universe or not)

🏜Dry Humping

😵‍💫Edging

⚡️Electrical play/e-stim

🤛Fisting

⚙️Fucking machine

🤚Impact play

👙Lingerie

🌄Morning sex

🤯Multiple Orgasms (with or without post orgasmic torture)

🏔Nipple play

🥒Pegging/strap-ons

🥺Ruined Orgasm

🚦Safe Word use

🖐Spanking

🌡Temperature play

✍️Urethral play/sounding

🕯Wax play

Any gender is okay, but I will not write explicit p-i-v sex. I will also not write any impact play involving the moon boys. Anything else is fair game!

[freelancearsonist]

one character who lives rent free in my head is outcome-3 (also known as David) from the bourne legacy. it was peak oscar isaac even though he was in the movie for literally 2 minutes. one mfing zaddy with his sweater and suspenders and perfect curls and scratchy beard being ostracized for falling in love. why aren't we obsessed with him? he's literally perfect

i really need to watch this movie 😂 i’ve seen his scenes but not the whole movie but I AGREE it’s such a good look and i just wanna curl up and bury my face in his sweatered chest

[l0vergirls]

imagine jason comforting you, with his fingers carding through your hair and a secure arm around you, as you lean on his chest, finding comfort in his steady heartbeat.

he'd pepper kisses on the crown of your head and when he senses that you're getting lost in your thoughts again, it's okay, he murmurs, i'm here.

it's enough to ground you back to reality, reminding yourself that it's over, you're okay, and you're back in the loving arms of your partner.

you move around to face jason, yet you don't meet his eyes. instead, you bury your face into the crook of his neck, wrapping your arms around him. you feel his hold on you tighten the slightest bit, his entire being radiating warmth.

he knows you don't want to talk about it now, he's been the same way— he still is the same way whenever he's in your position,

so he holds you close, hoping you can feel what words cannot convey,

i love you, i'm here for you.

[whinesandwhimpers]

reader who doesnt stay exclusive with one person. right now, you're dating four guys, all similar in some ways but also different and just...perfect. They all dont mind that you're dating other guys.

If only you knew they're all teammates together.

[osamusriceballs]

Kinktober Day 1 <3

Oikawa & Titfucking

Warnings: NSFW, fem reader

Words: ~ 1,2 k

Kinktober Masterlist II -> Next day

"C'mon, you need to try a bit harder, beautiful," he taunts you, his voice sweet like honey, like a soft caress on your skin.

"Can I please touch you? Please, Tooru, I need you," you try to coerce him into giving into you, but he still smiles at you pitifully, not showing the slightest attempt to let your wrists go. "I don't think that was convincing enough. Maybe I just need to make you wait a little longer."

A hiccup gets stuck in your throat and you wiggle in the tight grip of his hand while his teeth graze against the shell of your ear. "How about this? You get to touch me, and I get to fuck these pretty tits of yours? Does that sound good?" His free hand gently traces the outline of your exposed chest, and a shiver runs down your spine at the small action. Your back arches, your chest pressing tightly against his bare one, and you nod frantically, hoping to ease him into giving you more- and he finally releases your wrists, his hands softly caressing your cheek and your arms before he moves both hands down to your exposed chest. You gasp when his thumb caresses your nipples, the bubs hardening under his skillful fingers, his touch soft, yet with just the right amount of pressure to have airy breaths escape your lips.

"You can touch me wherever you want, pretty girl." The kind smile never leaves his face as he cups your tits and presses them together, making sure to "accidentally" brush his fingers over your nipples a few times again, his eyes taking in every single one of your reactions, reveling in the way your breath stocks for a second. "Sensitive here, beautiful?" At this point you think it's impossible for Oikawa to address you without a sweet nickname, and all of them seem to directly reach to your core and make your heart flutter even more.

His adjusts his position, making sure that his weight is not crushing you, but still pinning you to the bed before he finally lines up his cock at your tits. You let your now freed hands wander to his thighs, that seem even more muscular and defined ever since the Argentinian sun has shown its effect on him. The lean muscles tense under your fingers, and your breath stocks for a second when he suddenly spits down on one hand and languidly strokes his cock, right in front of your face, coating your chest with a bit of his saliva too.

You roam your hands to his abdomen, feeling him flexing at your touch, a deep breath leaving his lips, as he visibly gulps and focuses on your face while he strokes his cock. "Please, Tooru- fuck my tits, and then fuck me, please-" you whine, your hands wandering to his chest and feeling his heart pounding under your fingertips. You pause when he suddenly releases his cock, his expression changing from relaxed and understanding to determined and greedy for the first time, and he abruptly catches your wrists on his chest to bring them down to your tits. You get the hint and cup them, and he nods approvingly at the lewd sight of you, bare under him, your hands cupping your tits and your thighs clenching together, your needy and desperate expression making his breath stock for a second. He caresses your cheek gently one last time before he presses his cock against your tits, that are now dripping and glistening with his spit, one of his hands guiding the tip between them.

A low "fuuuuck" leaves his lips as he starts to buck his hips and fuck your tits, the tip of his cock hitting you chin every now and then when he thrusts his hips extra hard. Groans and whimpers leave his lips as he starts to pick up his pace, and the sounds turn you on even further, his desperate groans making the wetness pool between your legs. His eyes constantly move between your face and the way his cock moves between your tits, eager to see all of your reactions, and you blush feverishly under his intense gaze. You press your tits even further together and loll out your tongue, trying to get a taste of him whenever he thrusts hard enough, and his jaw drops at the sight- the sight of his beautiful wife begging for more. "More Tooru, use me, please-" his pace gets even faster at your words, his hips now feverishly bucking against your body as he chases his high, both of you knowing that he will finish soon. One of his hands comes to rest on your shoulder, while the other grasps the sheets, the muscles on his arms straining from the pressure, and the desperation is clear in his eyes as he fucks you with no restrain. The sheer force has your toes curing and your body aching for more- more of him. "Fuck- just like that- I'll-" broken words escape his lips, his teeth digging into his lower lip while you moan his name and lick the tip of his cock whenever you get the chance to, drool now coating your chin and dripping down to your neck. The sound of his cock fucking your wet tits is lewd enough to bring even heat to your cheeks, and you squirm under him, your walls clenching at the thought of him fucking you like this next.

You feel him tense and see how his muscles pop out when he finally cums, coating your chin and your chest in white, the feeling of it so lewd and so dirty, yet so forbidden good. You can see how he turns even more feral at the sight, his hips bucking one last time, his balls loudly smacking against the fat of your tits before his body loses all tension. He takes a few deep breaths, his brown eyes fixed on the mess he made on your chest, barely able to look away from it. "Fuck, you look so hot like that, love." His eyes roam to your face and you suppress the urge to turn away- because the intensity of his stare makes shivers run down your spine. He notices the shift in your face and he is quick to bring his hand to your chin to turn your face to him and to lean down to connect your lips with his. "I love you. You're my everything." The soft caress of his lips makes you almost explode from love but also from the aching need between your legs that he still needs to tend to. You're pretty sure that he notices the way you rub your legs together, at this point begging for any friction to ease to your needs- and Oikawa knows exactly what you need.

A mischievous smile sports his lips when he pulls back, and his thumb collects some of his cum on your chin and brings it to your mouth, forcing your tongue down and making you swallow the liquid.

"C'mon now, pretty girl. Show me how ready you are for me. Spread those legs for me, and I'll make you feel really good."

[aliasrocket]

So I was thinking Misery Business pt. 2 could go something like this …

Rocket shot up, head twisting in all directions to throw warm, thin sheets below him around to find the sweet scent buried beneath it all; sweet, but foreign.

Yet where was the culprit?

But then, with the thin sheets and the white bunk he realizes it’s not the scent that doesn’t belong.

It’s not his bed.

His feet meet the floor and he’s rushing out the room to be met with clashing sounds of utensils and when he turns to the cockpit he sees them. Everyone.

Gamora, Peter, Drax, Groot and …

You, with your food-stuffed mouth and spoon in your mouth.

D’asted idiot.

“Hey,” Rocket called you from the hallway, your name being dragged along the metal floors. “I gotta talk to you for a sec.”

“Oh.” You put down your food and rush over.

Rocket ranks you further away and puts you against the wall. His brows are furrowed and he had a hand on his forehead before he finally locked gazes with you, his eyes almost piercing a hole right through your perfectly fine morning.

“There’s a hickey on your neck, princess.”

“Are you serious?”

Rocket’s hand pressed against your sternum before slithering up to the side of your neck.

His nail pressed against a tender spot, making you wince.

“Right there.”

You grit your teeth.

“You gonna do something about it?”

“Nah, if you want another fuck you’re gonna have to work for it.”

[idesireelysian]

smut abcs: sanzu

pairing: sanzu x m!reader

cw/tw: semi-public sex, gun kink, mentions of wound-fucking, hair pulling, throat-fucking, pet play, falling unconscious (sanzu, not reader), edging, mentioned threesome/group sex, hinted overstimulation

a - aftercare

sanzu is sleepy after sex, he wants to get cleaned up and then just go to sleep cuddling. he can adapt to a shared bath though, if that’s what you prefer. if it’s just a quickie he doesn’t really need anything, and if he has to, he can actually hide the fact that the two of you just fucked pretty easily.

b - body part

i do think that he has somewhat of a hand kink, so hands certainly are worth mentioning. he also really likes your eyes—your whole face, actually. those are probably his favorites.

c - cum

his: he doesn’t cum that much during one orgasm, which makes it very fun to try and milk him dry. it’ll take quite a while, but trust me, he’s very much into it.

yours: he’s down bad for you cumming inside him, be it his mouth, throat (he’ll make sure to swallow all of it) or his ass. he’d even let you plug him up, if you’re into that.

d - dirty secret

i just know this man’s walked around in public with a vibrator up his ass before. when the pleasure got too much, he quickly jerked off in the bathroom, then continued his day like normal. he kind of wanted you—or anyone else, really—to notice, it would’ve been so humiliating, though also a huge turn on for him, given whoever noticed is into it too.

e - experience

i imagine that pretty much everyone in bonten is fucking everyone else in bonten, so bonten!sanzu is certainly very experienced. i do think he’s less experienced in the other timelines, but still moreso than the average person.

f - favorite position

getting fucked: bend him over a table, a desk, a drawer, the kitchen counter—just bend him over something and fuck him from behind. he might want to hold your hand though, or you can let him suck your fingers. another favorite of his is when you’re fucking him on a soft mattress. lying on his back, so he can look up into your beautiful eyes, and wrap his legs around your waist. hold one/both of his hands for bonus points, and occasionally (but passionately) kiss him.

fucking you: he wants to be able to see, and touch, and kiss every part of you, so he either wants you in his lap, or even better, on a bed, looking at him. he loves being able to see your eyes, and leaving hickeys and other marks on your body while fucking you.

g - goofy

i think this really depends. he’s certainly into bdsm, healthy bdsm, and can act out his role in perfect seriousness, no matter the scene or circumstances. sometimes you might think he’s scarily good at acting. however, otherwise, if you like to joke around, he’ll join you in on it with ease.

h - hair

body hair: i’m sorry, but i just have to add that his pubes are/he dyes them pink like his hair. anyways, i think he just makes them look clean, like he takes care of them (which he does). he has some body hair, but it’s a very light color and barely visible, so he doesn’t bother shaving his legs or anything like that to look good.

hair pulling: fuck him bent over something and force him to keep up his head by pulling on his hair, he’ll love it. however, he specifically doesn’t like to pull on your hair. unless, maybe, when you’re sucking him off.

i - intimacy

i’ve said it before, and i’ll say it again, but especially when you’re having gentle sex, he just wants to hold your hand. he also really likes to kiss you. the first time he said ,i love you’ out loud? you were slow-fucking him. he loves rough sex, yes, but sometimes he just wants to get pampered with love and gentle fucking/pamper you with said things.

j - jacking off

sanzu mostly jerks his dick as quick as possible. he’s honestly not too big of a fan of masturbating, he’d much rather sleep around, have sex with you, or at least do it in front of some kind of audience. he feels it’s kind of useless otherwise. still, sometimes he likes to fuck himself on a dildo. preferably one that you’ve gifted to him, so he can remember you and sing your name while fucking himself silly.

k - kink

okay. honestly, i imagine him having quite an amount of kinks, but the one that’s certainly worth mentioning is his horrible gunkink. especially bonten!sanzu gets incredibly turned on if you pull out a gun and point it at him. fuck him at gun point, he’d be in heaven. bonus points if you touch his temple or neck with it, extra bonus points if the safety is off. he trusts you. and if you’re concerned about safety, remove the bullets beforehand, but don’t tell him. knowing you could kill him any moment makes him so much harder. dare to go wild his gunkink. he’ll suck off your weapon if you let him, going as far as pushing it down his throat. he’d even let you insert it into his ass. that said, he doesn’t get turned by guns if it’s any random person holding it. it needs to be someone like you, someone he’s close with, who he can trust, and who turns him on anyway.

l - location

he’s not a fan of fucking outside. other than that, he doesn’t have too much of a preference, as long as he can hold onto something for stability, and nobody that he doesn’t want to see/hear is able to.

n - no

as said before, he’s into basically anything. even stuff like piss, vomit, knife play, blood play, and whatnot. especially bonten!sanzu, he’s honestly fucked in the head and into pretty much anything, even pretty high levels of masochism. what he doesn’t really like though is wound-fucking. in the moment he doesn’t really care about hygiene, but no dick will ever get close to his deeper wounds. your fingers might, if you’re both down bad, but it’s a dark gray area.

o - oral

giving: he loves when you fuck his throat, when you make him choke on your dick, and make him cry. he’ll relax his jaw and let you do whatever you want to him. he’s not very fond of eating you out, though. it’s simply weird to him.

receiving: he also loves to throat-fuck you, though. if you lay on your bed, head off the mattress, and let him fuck into your mouth while watching his dick form a bulge on your neck, he’s in heaven. bonus points if you let him lightly press down on said bulge. he’s hugely fascinated by it, and the fact that he can feel his own cock inside your throat makes him cum immediately. one of the few things he doesn��t like is when you eat him out. he might allow you to once in a while if you want to really badly, he thinks it feels okay, but it’s not really pleasuring him.

p - pace

depends a lot. usually he prefers getting fucked fast and rough, but sometimes he wants it to be slow and soft. if you prefer it slow by a lot, he can accomodate, but it might take him a while. especially bonten!sanzu, he’s very used to sex being fast and rough, so he needs quite a bit to adjust. he will do it for your sake, though.

q - quickie

always down for a quickie, no questions asked. bonus points if you cum inside him, and he gets to walk around with it leaking out into his underwear.

r - risk

i keep on talking about bonten!sanzu (i just love the bonten timeline, sorry), but he’s done more risky things than you can count on ten fingers. way more. in the other timelines he hasn’t done too many risky things, but if you want to, he’s always up for it.

s - stamina

getting fucked: he can easily go a few rounds, even if he’s riding you, but after round five or six he’s gone totally limp. he’s still very much conscious though, and he’ll let you continue fucking him for as long as you want to, even cumming for quite a few times still. at some point he’s milked dry though, and if you keep going after he’s had his first dry orgasm, he’ll fall uncoscious. there’s a very small chance he’ll still let you continue after that (how do you even have so much stamina, honestly?), but if you ask nicely before starting your session, he might agree.

fucking you: i don’t think he can go any more than three or four rounds, even if he tries. his body is just too exhausted. he’ll let you ride him until you’re satisfied though, but sadly, you can’t rely on him for help.

t - toys

he’ll be very happy if you gift him a dildo or two. he might even record himself using them, so he can send the videos to you, and you can jerk off to them later. apart from that, he kind of likes butt plugs. he’d wear cat ears, a collar, and a tail plug for you, too, if you’d want him to. you could even have him on a leash, and order him around in your own apartment/house for a bit.

u - unfair

teasing: unless you specifically ask him to, he won’t tease you much. he gets a lot more pleasure himself if you’re happy too.

getting teased: he hates to admit it, but he loves getting edged/edging himself. in that sense, he loves being teasted. he hates if you send him spicy pictures though, because he feels uncomfortable jerking off to them, so he’ll just be horny with no release. apart from that, he’s not too fond of it, but he doesn’t dislike it or anything.

v - volume

most of the time he isn’t too loud, but he makes a ton of noises. whines, whimpers, moans, sighs, groans, you name it. there’s barely a moment of silence. he’s actually more vocal when fucking you or when getting sucked off, not because he likes it more, but because it just feels good in different ways. you can make him scream though, if you’re rough enough, or if you hit one/multiple of his kinks head-on.

w - wild card

sanzu is actually very much up for a threesome, or even group sex. be it his friends, yours, some you share—as long as at least one of you two knows them, he’d love it if there were more people involved than just the two of you. don’t get him wrong, he loves you, and you can satisfy him perfectly, but it kind of turns him on. his personal pick would probably be rindou, i think, if you were to ask who he’d like to have a threesome with. or mucho, given he’s alive in this timeline.

x - x-ray

he doesn’t have too many muscles or fat, he’s naturally just very skinny, and has always had problems with putting on weight. luckily, it doesn’t bother him that much, and he feels pretty healthy as is. i think his dick is both a little longer and a little thicker than average, and it’s pretty pinkish, too.

y - yearning

his sex drive isn’t that high, but he enjoys sex a lot and bonten!sanzu fucks a lot as a way of self-destruction. and if someone asks him to fuck, he nearly always starts feeling like it and agrees. either way, even though his libido isn’t too high, he ends up fucking others and/or you quite a lot, especially if yours is high.

z - zzz

after multiple rounds, he gets very sleepy very quickly. he can easily handle a quickie without getting too tired, but if you fuck his soul out of his body, he’ll fall asleep in a maximum of five minutes. unless you/the circumstances don’t allow it.

[tsunami-watch]

Name: Outcome-3

Age: 32

Occupation/Association: Former FIA Agent/Merc | Nomads

Status: Alive

Short Bio/Backstory: Part of the highly classified NUSA government project to create the perfect supersoldier/spy/assassins, Operation Outcome, on the run after failing an assignment and betraying direct orders. Is currently hiding in the autonomous free city of Night City looking for a way to flee the country as well as a place to provide him sanctuary. Nameless, faceless, untraceable. The very skills and abilities the NUSA gave him are now the only thing keeping him from a bullet in the head. When pressures in the city gets high chances are you’ll find him with the Aldecaldos, or rather you won’t find him, but he’ll be there. The strange man without a name who proved his loyalty to the clan and the pack, came to them in desperation for their help, one survivor to another, and continues to protect them in return whenever he could with his unnaturally adept skills with a rifle, watching over them like a guardian angel. Closer to the city he’s constructed a concealed base of operations and hiding place within the trash mountains of the Municipal Landfill, blending perfectly into the surrounding landscape, completely invisible to anyone who doesn’t know where to look. His time not spent on planning an escape or riding with the Aldecaldos are used scavenging for valuable cyberware he could sell to shady rippers that didn’t ask questions, or occasionally bounty hunting in the city for some quick cash. 

Masterlist:

[thecreelhouse]

really hoping i can get this fic finally done in time for The Big Awareness Month™️

[luvrxbunny]

little spider

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

Prompt: Innocence

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, reader knows nothing about sex or feelings of arousal, clothed clit-rubbing? cum in pants, small feelings of embarrassment (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 3.3k

A/N: sorry im late but im kinda proud of this one so i hope it was worth the wait! <3

Miguel didn’t think he’d end up in this position, nowhere in his wildest, most perverted fantasies did he think that this would actually be the outcome of him recruiting you but… here we are. 

You were assigned by the higher-ups to learn from him, they thought you had potential, and honestly? Miguel hated you when he met you, he felt like they were punishing him for something, that assigning him this raw recruit was just a flaunt of power. You didn't even have a suit he had to make you one, a trial suit first, to make sure all your vitals were good, to track your movements and decide what suit material would be best- or if you would have a digital one like him. 

During the weeks of his monitoring of your vitals, he began to grow a bit fond of you. You were an adorable recruit and eager to please, you were thoughtful and always gave your all, something he really appreciates. One other thing he noticed about you… your dopamine levels were elevated around him, along with your estradiol and testosterone. He ignores it when he’s writing his reports, he tells himself that he doesn’t report it because the higher-ups don't need to know, not because he knows they’d make you transfer… He should’ve requested it the first time he noticed it but the thought of you, his sweet, innocent spider, all turned on just from being around him? It ignited something in him. 

He updated your suit, saying that the data he was receiving wasn't enough, he made you wear the suit as he replaced the chip and tried to hide the smile in his voice when your spine straightened under his touch. The new chip could give him real-time tracking of all your vitals, but he set his watch to alert him anytime certain hormones spiked… estradiol and testosterone. So he conducted a little experiment over the following weeks, he’d lean into you more when you speak, holding your eye contact, he even broke out the smirk he used to use on girls when he was younger, and it worked on you. 

His watch vibrated every time he was near you, if he walked up to you, it started being an alert to when you were near, it’d go off before you’ve even approached him, he’d walk into a room and it’d go off before he even saw you. It started to have an effect on him, he started to feel a spark in his stomach every time it went off, every time he’d meet your eyes and you’d have that expression he’d grown to know so well. That weak, almost pleading- yet confused look in your eyes and the sheer panic before tearing them away from his. He started having to grip whatever was in his hands as tightly as he could to control himself when you’re breathing would stutter after he complimented you on your work. 

He started getting hard reviewing your logs after spending the day with you, watching your heart rate stay elevated, spiking along with your hormones, he can see your breathing pattern, and how irregular it is compared to when you’re not with him. How high your body temperature was… the main areas of heat. On his more weak days, he’s gotten himself off to the diagram of you, with the burning red spot between your legs as the focus of his fantasies. 

Now you’re here, avoiding his gaze as his watch vibrates like crazy. “Miguel?” He looks at you again, trying to keep his gaze neutral, hopefully, to make this a bit easier on you… and him. “Yes?” 

His voice is smooth as cocoa butter and you can feel his gaze burning into you. He started this heat inside you, one you’d never encountered before. It starts when you see him in the morning and doesn’t stop until you struggle to sleep- or at least it used to. But recently it’s been non-stop, a constant distraction that you can’t pinpoint, it feels like it’s in your hips, stomach, chest, and thighs all at once. It feels like it’s in his breath when it fans over your face, it's in his eyes when they lock with yours, and somehow on his fingertips when they brush over any part of you. You’ve spent hours a night trying to figure out what you can do about it, you’ve thought about even asking Lyla but decided the risk of her telling Miguel was far too great.  

This past week it’s just been building on it’s self, almost unbearable with Miguel’s new immersive training. He takes you away to some deserted, closed-off place and trains you with no distractions, giving you nothing to focus on other than him and forcing him to give all his attention to you. Miguel’s attention, his gaze is what causes the most… pain. That’s what it’s become, a dull, numb, thrumming at the base of your stomach, like an itch you can’t scratch that just becomes a nuisance. You couldn’t handle it anymore and if you asked Lyla she’d just tell Miguel- so why not just ask him directly? 

So here you are, avoiding his gaze because you’ve spent the entire day with him, building enough fire inside you- you don’t need to add any more. “I think…” You take a breath and turn to him a bit before forcing the words out. “There’s something wrong with me.” He puts his clipboard down, his concern, and his thick, veiny hand that comes into view piles onto the heat over-taking your bloodstream. He takes his glasses off and sits back in his chair, reaching his leg out to pull a chair beside you closer to him. You dare a glance at him and try not to collapse at his gaze, at the way his hair moves over his face for a moment as he motions for you to sit in the provided chair.

You sigh and sit down, your legs pressed tightly together, your palms resting on your thighs and your eyes focused on the back of your hands. You stay silent, your mind racing, your body warming further at the feeling of his eyes on you. “What’s wrong, little spider?” You suppress a shiver at the nickname as goosebumps rise over your skin, it’s been a problem since he picked it. “I’m hot.” The words shoot out of your mouth before you can second-guess them again. Miguel chuckles a bit, sending embarrassment through your body, sits back in his chair, and crosses his arms, prompting you to go on. 

“I can’t fix it. There’s… someone.” Miguel pretends he doesn’t notice the way your eyes flicker to him. “For some reason, something about them just- “ You pause for a moment, truly baffled by the way you feel, trying to find some way to explain it. “They just do something to me and it won’t stop.” Your words start to sound frantic, a bit panicked. Miguel leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees to examine your expression. “It’s like there's a low- like a low vibration- or a frequency? Like the ones that are so low you can barely hear but you can sorta feel them? It’s like that but- but deep inside me.”

Your eyes close and eyebrows furrow as you describe the feeling to him. He tries to keep his breathing even as he hardens uncontrollably under the suit. You don’t even realize what you’re confessing to him. “Like it’s in my bones, Miguel.” You add emphasis, your hands digging into the material of your suit before raising your head to meet his eyes, hoping he understands the state you’re in. He’s almost dizzy at the way his blood rushes to his cock. He holds your gaze and tries to convey a baffled, thoughtful expression as he tries to calm himself. 

“That’s- That’s odd. Yeah, um.” He takes a few deep breaths before sitting back again, unable to stay in your space any longer. “Do- Can you tell me who’s causing it? Perhaps it’s a side effect of their powers?” Your spine straightens and you shake your head at him gently. You twist your fingers in the fabric of your suit and your feet play with each other on the lab floor. “H-have you heard of any powers like that?” You ask him, a hopeful look in your eyes. 

Clever girl.

“No, I haven't.” He sits back, spreads his legs, and runs his hands down his thighs and back with a sigh. He holds back a smirk when his watch vibrates and he hears you take a sharp breath. “I- I don’t know what to do anymore. It- I can barely sleep.” You sound distraught, broken, and tired. He’d be the messed up one if he didn't help you… Right?

“I mean… I can try running some tests?” He offers, he keeps his tone light, trying to keep his dark desires off your radar. You perk up at his offer, already up and out of your seat, standing in front of him with a smile. He keeps his eyes on you, trying to ignore the way your scent is assaulting his nose, giving away how badly you need him. “You think we could?”

He nods and stands up, walking over to his lab table and clearing a few things. His head is already running wild with fantasies, ideas of what he could do to you, what he could teach you, how good he could make you feel. “Yeah, of course. C’mere, pequeña araña” You were already walking to him but your pace stutters and his watch vibrates when the nickname slips out. He truly didn’t mean to, he had gotten a bit too deep in his fantasies, and when your voice broke through he didn’t get fully pulled out. He’s never called you that in Spanish, not to your face at least, it’s fallen from his lips a few times before though, when he’s alone with his hand wrapped around his cock. But your reaction dissuades any fear that had shot through him before and he can’t help the smirk that makes its way on his face. 

You’re standing silently beside him, wringing your hands together and he doesn’t think you even notice the way your thighs keep clenching together. “Get on the table.” His tone is teasing, a grin on his face as you jump and scramble onto the tabletop. You lay on your back and look over at Miguel, feeling that heat rage through you at the look on his face. It’s dark and- wanting. It’s confusing. 

He takes a deep breath and your fingers try to dig into the metal table top as he walks to you. “Okay. I’m going to examine your body a bit, press into some muscles, some pressure points to see if maybe it’s a physical trigger. Is that okay with you?” Your chest is already rising and falling more rapidly at the thought, the promise of Miguel’s hands on you. You nod at him stiffly, trying to stay normal and calm as he holds your eye contact, nodding along with you. A small smile graces his face before he walks around and presses his palm into your hairline, pushing your head down to rest on the table as he stands north of you. 

His hands press into your shoulders and your eyes shut tight. He can feel all your muscles tense and his watch vibrates, he sneaks a peak at his and sees the huge spike in almost all your vitals. His cock twitches in his suit at your obvious need but he brushes it aside, if he rushes into this he might scare you off and he doesn’t know what he’ll do if that happens. He may lose his mind. He moves his hands to your biceps, massaging them tightly as little whines slip into your breaths, only audible to his ears. 

He walks back to the side of the tables and your eyes stay shut. He massages the softness of your sides and his breathing kicks up a bit once he gets to your hips. He takes his time with them, admiring the way you fit into his hands and how you subconsciously tilt them toward him. His thighs jump as his cock begins to leak, dripping precum down them. He takes a deep, shaky breath and forces himself to move on. He forced himself to move on, he was trying to take it slow, hopefully, you’d realize where you need him and ask for it. But your thighs spread open when he massages the outside and his hands dive for the inner before he can think it through. 

You gasp, you sit up with your eyes wide and your hands gripping his wrists. You don’t do anything though, he expects you to pull his hands away but it feels more like you’re holding him there, stopping- or attempting to stop him from pulling away. So of course he doesn't. He stares into your eyes as you search his, trying to figure out if he realizes the way that made you feel, if your cover was blown, if he wants to stop but he looks expectant, like he’s waiting for something. So you loosen your grip. “That’s- I think that’s- ” You’re nodding at him lightly, hoping he understands what you’re trying to say because for some reason your brain has stopped working. 

“Yeah?” Your heart stutters at his tone and the tilt of his head as he says it. Your thighs tense around his hand for a moment before you try to calm down, un-tense them but they can’t help the way they tremble with anticipation. You’re nodding at him more frantically and his eyelids flutter. “Okay.” He takes one hand out from between your thighs and rests it on your lower back as his other hand keeps massaging, slowly moving up your inner thigh and the sensations grow more intense the higher he gets. 

Your eyes shut and your hands grip his wrists again, not pulling away, just holding him. Your eyes shut and your hips tilt into his hand, getting him so close to your pussy that he can feel the heat radiating off of her. You feel some sort of shame twinge in your belly, dampening the more intense feelings that Miguel was causing. What if this was wrong? What if you aren’t supposed to feel like this with him, without him knowing… Maybe you should stop. 

Miguel moves further up and all those thoughts scatter from your head immediately. His watch vibrates again and a noise shoots out of your mouth- one you’ve never heard before as your body folds over and your head rests on his shoulder. You shut your eyes tight and take a slow, deep breath. “Sorry. Sorry, I-” He cuts you off. “It’s okay. That’s why I’m here, right?” He’s nodding at you, comforting and reassuring as his hand leaves your back to cradle your head. “You’re okay. I wanna help you, cariño.” Another noise leaves you at the nickname and his hand grips into your hair for a moment before sliding down to your neck and pulls your head away from his shoulder. He pushes your head against his for a moment, letting out a soft groan before letting go and pushing his fingers against your plush lips. 

“How’s that, honey?” His hand settles back on your lower back as you whine and your hands move up his arm, gripping his biceps now and pulling yourself closer to him. “Miguel.” His eyes roll back at how you sound, desperate, breathless, and gone. Your hips are grinding into his fingers and they aren’t even on your clit yet. They’re pressing against your hole through your lips and your suit, he’s keeping his fingertips flat against you so he doesn’t slip inside. 

He’s trying to ignore the mess he’s making in his pants, watching your tense face change into a relieved one, your eyebrows pulling inward as your lips part beautifully, releasing a shaky moan as he reangles his fingers to your clit. His hands are shaking as he tries to calm himself down, one of your hands slides up his arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake before gripping onto his shoulder and pulling him down, closer to your face. His eyes are fixed on your expression, taking everything in, every twitch and quiver, the way your tongue darts out to lick your lips before a whimper punches out of you. 

You’re ruining him and you’re none the wiser. Your hand slides up to his neck and you push your forehead against his, like he did earlier. His eyes roll back before he forces them to you again, moving his fingers over you clit faster when your thighs begin to shake around his wrist. “I think-” Your voice comes out as a whimper and he groans into you. Your fingers grip into his hair and his cock cries against him. “Something… Miguel.” 

The way you say his name fucks with him. It’s prettier than he ever could’ve imagined, he has to lean forward and press his throbbing cock against the edge of the table for relief. You’ve got him feeling like he could die, like he could implode if he doesn’t have you, if after this you realize what you need but get it somewhere else? It’ll be over for him. Your hand readjusts its grip in his hair, becoming more frantic as your spine straightens and your thighs close on his hands. “Miguel? I-” You cut yourself off with a moan and your head falls to his shoulder again, blocking your face from his view.

“No, no.” He brings his hand to the back of your neck again. “Let me see, amor.” He pulls you away from his shoulder and you moan at the nickname. Once again, it didn’t mean to slip out but you’ve got his head so cloudy he can’t help it. You’re moaning his name on repeat, like a warning and he’s pulsing at the thought, the promise of getting to see you cum, for him. His eyes can’t look away from you, he can’t see anything but your face, the way your brows furrow as you tense, and your nails dig into his arms, leaving reminders for later. He watches how you bite your lip before your jaw drops into an ‘O’ shape and his name falls from your lips one more time as a debauched cry. 

He keeps his eyes open, watching you cum for him, how your lips form around his name again and again. He wants to collapse, fall to his knees with how much you’re turning him on but he needs to watch you. He forces himself to keep his eyes on you, ignoring the way they want to roll back at how he’s flooding his pants. His hips twitch against the edge of the table as he cums for you, with you. His mind zeros into the way he can feel your clit pulsing underneath his finger tips, how breathless you sound, trying to keep up with the noises he’s forcing from you. His stomach tenses painfully as his cock unloads more cum onto himself. You sound like an angel, crying out for him. He can’t help the way he dives for you, pulling you in to kiss him and swallowing every moan you’ll give him. 

You whine into his mouth as his fingers slow down over your clit, your other hand meets the first in his hair and you keep his lips on yours. He keeps kissing you until you calm down and your breathing evens out. His hand comes from between your thighs and rubs your legs until you pull back from his lips. You have a bashful, embarrassed look on your face and it brings the largest smile that you’ve ever seen to his face. “Was that okay, pequeña araña?” You whine and pull him in for a hug, nodding into his shoulder as he chuckles and wraps his arms around you as you begin to giggle against him.      

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

[angelskvll]

#VENOM!

pairing: dick grayson x chubby afab!reader

word count: 800+

summary: dick comes home from a very long night, after encountering poison ivy, he can’t seem to think straight when all he can smell is you…

warnings: HEAVY SMUT!! sex pollen, dick has a big.. erm well.. dick, BREEDINGGGG, slight degradation, pet names (princess, sweetheart, baby, etc.), dom!dick, sub!reader, dick calls reader a fleshlight (lovingly ;p), dick's lwk a lil' mean in this but it's ok he loves you ;3

authors note: lawddd hold me back this man is bouta make me combust like all over his face SOMEONE HELP ME

“Fuckin’ hell-” Dick groaned lowly as he gripped your hips tighter, pulling your plush body back into his harsh thrusts. 

Nights like this would normally have this outcome. Dick would come home, late at night after a patrol, looking and being frustrated as anyone would be, leaving you to be his relief.

But tonight.. Wasn’t one of those nights. This wasn’t calm, or half assed thrusts into your sopping cunt as you both lay half awake in bed, no. Dick wasn’t frustrated.. He was hungry.

“Dee! S-slow down baby-!” you squealed as your manicured hand reached back, your nails lightly brushing over his toned abdomen. 

He’d been so overcome with lust that he hadn’t even fully discarded his suit, only zipping it down the middle and off his shoulders to leave it pooling at his waist, with his mask still tied around his eyes. The white, chalky glow around his eyes hiding his irises from your view. 

He roughly grabbed your hand into his and intertwined them, a sweet gesture compared to his brutal pace he was keeping up with at the moment. 

“Mine, mine, mine..” you heard him mumble as he leaned down, cooing into your ear as he pounded you from behind, the smacking of your ass against his upper thighs echoing throughout the room. 

He moaned softly at the squelch of your cunt swallowing him, a creamy white ring surrounding the base of his cock every moment he pulled out.

“D-Dick, p-please baby-”

“Gotta breed you baby.. Show all these fuckers that you’re mine and get you pregnant. You’d like that huh? All full with my baby, my cum deep inside this needy lil’ pussy, hm? You want that princess?” You felt him smirk against your skin as he never faltered, his cock reaching so deep inside you–fuck this man would be the end of you.

He may have seemed like a sweet guy, and he definitely was.. Him in bed on the other hand, he was dirty, disgusting, nasty with the way he talked. 

“You’re my lil’ fleshlight aren’t you? Just a wet little hole to stick my dick into, huh? S’all you’re good for?” 

Tears pooled at the bottom of your eyes, your pussy throbbed at his words, no matter how offended you really were from them. 

“S-S’mean Dee..” you cooed before he lifted you up to rest your back on his chest, groping your tits in one hand as the other trailed down your plump stomach and towards your pussy. 

“Mean? I would never, baby. How could you accuse me of such a thing? All I do is treat you so fuckin’ well, don’t I?” Dick mumbled as his fingers started to toy with your clit, his middle finger rubbing the sensitive nub in circles as he continued his brutal pace on your weeping cunt. “F-fuck..” he whined as he pulled away for a moment to look down at where the two of you were connected, his cum from earlier rounds already starting to pool onto the bedsheets and trailing down your thighs. “S’good to me, ya know that? Such a good girl..” Fuck it was starting to become too much for him, but it felt so fucking good..

“G-Gonna come, Dee–fuck!” you whimpered as you fell back into the sheets with your face squished against the pillows, gripping the blanket into your hands tightly. 

“F-fuckin’ come baby, come all over this cock..” He coos through clenched teeth, his nails lightly digging into your plush skin as his thrusts sped up. 

Whiney breaths leave your throat as your climax starts building, before the coil in your tummy finally snaps, your juices gushing around him as he let out a whine and threw his head back. 

“C-Come inside me, Dick–please!” you squeal with your face squished into the pillow to muffle your needy whines as his cock twitched inside you. 

“I know baby, I know–fuckk!” he groaned as you felt him release inside you, thick ropes of his cum painting your walls a creamy white, giving a few shallow thrusts before stilling inside you, pants and heavy breathing leaving both of your lips as you sat in silence. 

Despite your best efforts and hours of him being inside you, he was still.. Unnecessarily hard..

You whine as you try to crawl away from his needy hands before he grabs you by the waist and pulls you back to flip you onto your back, a few pieces of his hair stuck to his forehead as he looks down at you with a grin painting his plush lips. Gosh it’s like he was trying to kill you.

“P-please my love, let’s rest.. M’sensitive..” you whimpered as he chuckled lightly before grabbing the back of your thighs and pushing your legs towards your chest.

“Said ya’ wanted to help me..” he cooed as he leant down with his lips ghosting over yours. 

“So, help me..”

[itsswritten]

butterfly kisses

Pairing: Azriel x fem reader

Word Count: 1.7K (honestly it's just a little drabble)

Warnings: 18+, implied smut, lots of fluff, mating frenzy

Summary: Azriel just can't get enough of your wings <3

If you want to read more from this universe - wings

Azriel wasn’t sure how he’d gotten so lucky.

He had thanked the Mother every day since the bond snapped, and even more when you accepted it. When Mor had introduced you into his life only a couple of years ago, he never imagined this would be the outcome.

Azriel vividly remembered the first night he met you. It was another gathering at Rita’s, one of the many that had unfolded, now peace settled over the land. 

Mor with playful determination had pulled you over to their table, arm looped around yours– almost in a way that said she wasn’t going to let you escape. He had noticed the faint blush that creeped up your face to your pointed ears, merely from the proximity of your High Lord and Lady, and their inner circle. He recalled how you offered a shy little curtsy in their presence, that had led to the whole table stifling their laughter. Rhys kindly explained that such formalities were not necessary, especially not in Rita’s of all places. Azriel did his best to contain his mirth at the display, all the while chewing the inside of his cheek to stop the chuckle leaving his lips. He truly couldn’t get over how adorable you were, he'd found himself captivated by your endearing innocence. 

And that was only the start.

Mor explained how she’d met you in town one day and had essentially thrusted her friendship onto you, and it really didn’t take long for Azriel and his family to do the same. 

You were so sweet and caring, and slotted into Azriel’s life so easily that he found it hard to remember a time when you weren’t there at all. Your kindness towards the Archeron sisters, guiding them through the intricate transitions of fae life that they still at times struggled with. Nyx was absolutely enamoured with you, oftentimes seeking your company over his actual family. But they didn’t blame him, because they all did same. Your calm sweet nature was addictive to them all, especially Azriel.

Driven by an insatiable curiosity, Azriel found himself seeking every opportunity to unravel all your layers. He wanted to know everything about you. From your favourite foods, to the books that captured your attention.

His infatuation all made sense when the bond snapped. 

It was the last solstice.

Azriel had noticed how beautiful you were looking, as you always were. But you were clad in a breathtaking pale pink summer dress, the neckline delicately showcasing your décolletage. As you moved with a natural grace, the fabric billowed ever so slightly at the waist, accentuating your silhouette in a manner that held attention.

Or at least held Azriel’s attention. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you.

He watched you carefully navigate the chaos of the room. Nyx in one arm, giving Feyre some rest and reprieve in her pregnant state. Your other hand bringing in the cake Elain had spent all morning baking. Amidst the flurry of activity, you had been so close to dropping the cake. But Azriel's steady hand intervened just in time, grabbing the plate and taking it off you. Except in that moment your hands touched, grazed past one another in a way they had so many times before. 

But that time had been different.

It was Azriel’s turn to almost drop the cake. That all consuming warmth flooded his chest catching him off guard. A golden thread connecting itself to you. The mating bond. Finally.

And based on the bright red flush covering your cheeks, it was clear you’d felt it too. You’d fled the room then, overcome with emotion and what this new revelation meant. 

Though, it didn’t take long for Azriel to coax you round.

Ever the gentleman, he courted you. Taking you on the most thoughtful dates and spoiling you with bouquet after bouquet of flowers. He would leave little love notes and poetry for you to find. That it was really no surprise to anyone, when you decided to accept the bond.

That was only three weeks ago now.

Yourself and Azriel were deep in the mating frenzy. 

Rhys had kindly offered one of his private residences he had on the outskirts of Night. A smaller cottage, but with all the privacy you both needed. And Azriel had taken advantage of that privacy eliciting sounds from you that he would cherish forever and never tire hearing.

And then there were your wings. 

You had revealed them to him the first night after accepting the mating bond, and, Gods, was he done for.

Azriel had taken it upon himself, in the earlier months, to really vet you. His dedication to his role as Spymaster served as a guise for his self-indulgent exploration of you, delving into the intricate details of your being with a hunger that bordered on obsession. Not only had he discovered all the things you love, but he searched for details of who and what you were.

Finding himself holed up in the library at times, hours spent devoted to aquainiting himself to the type of fairy you were. 

He knew you had wings, was the type of fairy whose wings were the delicate kind. Most kept them concealed with magic. Yet, Azriel couldn't shake the thought that perhaps they were hidden not only for protection but also out of reverence for their breathtaking beauty. They were mesmerising. Enough to trap Azriel into some kind of trance. 

And perhaps possessively so, he was grateful not many males were privy to this part of you.

He was watching you now, laying on your front. Bare. Just how he’d left you when he took a moment to freshen up. You were giggling, your legs up and feet fluttering behind you while propped up over something.

“What are you doing, my love?” Azriel purred inquisitively, stepping closer towards the bed.

“Oh…Feyre was just checking in. Asking how much longer we might be,” he could hear you smile when you spoke, and watched as with the brush of your hand the magical parchment and ink disappeared that you’d been conversing with Feyre on.

“It’s not even been that long,”

“We’ve been gone three weeks–”

“And we’ll be gone 300 hundred more,”

You chuckled at his response, “Az, we do need to go back at some point. They need us.”

“I need you more.” There was no negotiating. Your family would be lucky to see you both before the next solstice at this rate.

Not that Azriel needed the frenzy to be satiated by you, but it truly was driving him. The primal need for you, overwhelming. The pair of you only stopped when you both fell into a slumber from exhaustion. And even then, there were many times you found each other in a sleep exhausted haze, tangled within and inside one another again.

The bed dipped either side of your legs, you were still on your front but could feel your mate over you. He had paused though, his eyes falling over your beautiful pink wings. The iridescent skin reflecting lights across the room. He had almost cried when he first saw them after you accepted the bond, mesmerised and overwhelmed by their beauty.

Getting to see this part of you, a part of you that was so private, stirred a gratefulness inside him. But there was something else too, a possessiveness that had slowly been creeping up his mind recently.

In the past three weeks, you had both done every possible maneuver, tried every kind of love making– fucking, screwing, mating. You’d even made him a crumbling wet mess just from playing with his wings. 

But he hadn’t touched yours.

No, they looked so delicate and soft, too beautiful to touch, that he hadn’t dared. 

You felt him situate himself behind you, his warm naked body lightly laying on you, his chest resting on your behind. His arms wormed their way under your hips to get comfy, and you splayed your wings flat against your back to fit him.

“Az?” you asked curiously, glancing slightly over at your shoulder to catch him in your peripheral.

He didn’t respond though, not with words. You felt his soft warm breath blowing on the membrane of your right wing, making your squirm under the touch. Your wing fluttering a little in the air.

“How sensitive are they? Too sensitive for me to touch?” You heard him behind you.

“Hm..” you tilted your head slightly to think, “They’re delicate, but you can touch them. Gently.”

You were waiting for him to wriggle his hand from out beneath you but instead you felt something warm and wet run against the bottom of your wing.

You couldn’t stop the whimper from escaping your lips at the soft touch. Azriel had taken it upon himself to use the tip of his tongue to explore this part of you, a part of you that was still very new to him. He felt you wriggle under him, and he shifted placing his full body weight on you so you couldn’t move.

His tongue traced the ridge of your wing, and he wasn’t letting up. Not when he’d made that sound from you. He wanted more of that. He moved and pressed his tongue flat against the delicate skin, evoking another moan from you.

“Does that feel good my little butterfly?” he purred, you could feel the smirk on his lips against your wing as he pressed a kiss on them.

You wanted to roll your eyes at his teasing, but it felt too good to do anything other than surrender to his touch.

“I want to hear your words,” he spoke a little more assertively this time, before swiping  his tongue along one of the tubular lines that spread like veins across your wings.

“Yes..” You huffed, before another moan slipped past your lips breathlessly. “It feels good Az…” You felt your body heat, your cheeks for sure rosy, grateful your mate could only hear not see the reaction he was having on you. 

He chuckled softly then, the vibrations from his lips skirting across your wings making them twitch.

“My sensitive little butterfly, ” the new nickname only made you squirm more, your core growing slick at his predatory attention.

Azriel moved his hand then, the one caught under your left hip, so effortlessly moving down to your core, cupping your wet slit as he licked the pink shiny membrane again. 

“Azriel…” you gasped, but his touch didn’t relent.

You knew this was only the start.

a/n: just some lovely little fluffy mating frenzyness! I just love these two, so I may expand a little more on the wings universe and their relationship if you guys would like to see that! Maybe some domestic bliss, or if there's any scenes you'd like me to write for them or parts of their story you're interested in then I'm happy to explore. Also this was written fairly quickly, so please ignore any typos, I only did a quick little check hehe - Lottie

p.s. also thanks to @thisiskaylin who inspired the nickname! She commented on the wings fic that butterfly would be the perfect nickname and I just had to use it <3

Forever tags: @sleepylunarwolf @daily-dose-of-sass @milswrites @amberlynn98 @marscardigan @illyrianbitch @lilah-asteria

[marcsburnerphone]

And they were roommates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: the captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: angsty (minimal), john being slightly troubled, alcohol, reader being slightly embarrassing.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5!! -part 6

—————-

You wake up to the sun softly beaming in your room. Limbs stretching beyond the covers. You look around a little confused as to when you got back in your bedroom. Then it all came together. John, John leaves today.

You get out of the covers leaving your bedroom hoping he’s still there but of course to your disappointment he’s gone. You head to the kitchen knowing at least there will be a note. 

Good morning doll, I thought of waking you but decided against it, though I might regret it. The movie was good, you seemed to really be enjoying it also:) Here's the phone number of a friend in case any problems arise. Next time I’m back I hope to see another painting - John 

(xxx-xxx-xxxx) - nick

You stare at it trying not to let your emotions get the best of you. So you fold it and put it in the kitchen drawer. Although John was an awfully quiet roommate you could feel the weight of his absence. The cold floor beneath your feet has grown warm for how long you’ve stood there. You make your way towards the front door deciding that an iced coffee and a long drive with music will rid you of this feeling you can’t decipher it feels like want but in a way it’s also need but what is it you want and need? Not even you could answer that question.

Long story short you think it made the feeling intensify.

————-

1 month in

You’ve booked your schedule full leaving not an ounce of time for yourself. From the morning till night you had clients which were good for money but really it was a distraction for your mind. That same feeling felt like it was running into new veins every day seemingly consuming you. 

You tried to start a new painting but something was off about the color scheme and it was a waste not only of time but material and energy. You wonder how John is.

————-

2 months in

No problems have arisen since he’s been gone. It's like the house knows you’ll call the expensive plumber instead of John’s friend. 

However you have started a painting you are beginning to like. It’s a mix of hues you’ve never used before blues and oranges, a flame. You don’t know where or why the idea came to you but it’s what you wanted so you started it. A single candle is the outline, and the surrounding of it is the orange yellowish aura of a flame. You tried making ratatouille the other day and although it was good you wished it was made out of pepperonis like your childhood mind had imagined. You forgot there was no longer anyone to finish left overs so you ate it for three days straight.

Also you bought a new rug.

————-

3 months in

You’ve begun putting the final laminate on the painting. It’s taken you far longer than it would’ve if you hadn’t accepted 15 new clients. Not that you mind anyways. 

You’re also a little ambivalent to the idea of John paying for 6 months of rent when he doesn’t even live here during it. 

Besides that life seems stagnant and you’ve begun to lock your bedroom door at night again. 

————

4 months in

The painting now hangs a foot away from where the other one in front of John’s door does. It’s a beautiful contrast and really you were overjoyed at the outcome. You also randomly decided it’d be a good idea one night after too much wine to order new furniture for the outside deck. When it arrived you were one in disbelief of all the building pieces and and two excited to have something more to do. 

You should've stayed up the night John left.

————

5 months in  

Redecorating the deck wasn’t enough change. You needed a makeover physically but couldn’t decide how. Maybe a tattoo? No. New makeup? No. How about a haircut?  Fuck it, yes. 

So you did just that, you got a few almost unnoticeable highlights and chopped a good amount off. After the fact you were obsessed. Was it impulsive and could it have gone so horribly wrong, yes. But did it? No. 

———

6 months in 

John’s still not back and it’s all you could think about. What if something happened to him? What if he wasn’t coming back? You worried yourself sick so much so you physically became sick. 

You waited week by week for anything, maybe he’s back on base but just hasn’t come back home yet. But something was telling you it was more than that. 

———-

7 months in 

At this point worrying wasn’t going to make him appear. Your hobbies have now turned into distractions. So tonight you sit in the living room with a glass of wine and watch another rom com. You’re as comfy as can be in this cold brutal weather. It stays below 30 degrees Fahrenheit during this time of year and the snow bites at any unclothed skin. 

You fall asleep to the small hum of the heater while on the couch. Thick blanket thrown across you and tv playing as background chatter. 

You don’t know when you wake but it’s still dark outside when you hear someone that sounds distressed. Your groggy mind isn’t processing that the sound is coming from inside the house. But when it does you're up in a second looking around as your eyes try to adjust to the darkness. 

“Fuck!” You hear from down the hall. John’s room.

You walk quietly towards it as he continues to chant that word. Suddenly it falls silent and you just hear what sounds to be deep breaths. You don’t know what wills you to knock, but you do. 

“John, are you okay?” You ask softly from behind the closed door. He doesn’t respond but you know he’s in there from the quiet but quick breathing. 

“No.” He says with that familiar deep drawl.

You open the door slowly to see him sitting on the floor near the corner of his bed clearly distressed. You take notice of the mess wondering how you slept through the making of it. There’s glass from somewhere on the floor and clothes strewn but when you look at him your heart breaks. He’s in full uniform, vest on, belt with equipment on, as if he didn’t stop anywhere. Just came straight here. His hair has grown out to an odd length and his beard has grown longer. 

“I can’t get this fucking vest off.” He interrupts your thoughts looking at you with a sense of sorrow. You kneel to where he is careful to avoid glass. His eyes don’t glance up to meet yours; they stay fixated on his hands that are covered in dirt.

“May I?” You gesture towards the plastic buckles on the vest. He nods and you start with the two at his shoulders. Then you reach down his chest to undo the two near his belt buckle. You realize it must be connected somewhere in the back when it doesn’t come off. He leans forwards as you look trying to avoid the bloodstains that taint the once green vest and sure enough the tiniest but mightiest buckle is on the center of his lower back. He shrugs it off with a sigh. 

“Better?” You ask softly.

“Yeah, Thankyou.” He slowly tilts his head back to lean on the comforter and you don’t move an inch. 

“What can I do?” Truthfully you’ve never been in a situation so unbearably awkward but so unwilling to just leave.

“Just sit here with me.” So you do. You scoot right next to him and lean your head on his shoulder. He couldn’t admit it but the nights he slept in cold frost biting weather the thought of returning to your warm presence got him through.

“He almost died.” His voice gives out at the end of that sentence.

“Who?” 

“Johnny, it would’ve been my fault. One second later and they would’ve put a bullet through his skull.”

“But he’s okay?” You know John loves his team even though he doesn’t outwardly say it.

“He’s perfectly fine.” 

“Worrying about what could’ve been will kill you.” 

“Sometimes I feel like that’s what I deserve for some of the things I’ve done.” 

“If not you it would be someone else making the world a better place.” 

“I know.” 

You sit there with him for a while in silence. He can barely believe he made it back alive but right now the battle feels worth it. He hears soft snores not too long later and realizes you’ve fallen back to sleep. His head leans to rest above yours as he closes his eyes. He knows sleep won’t come to him but he’s never had you this close and for now he’ll cherish it.

————-

When you woke up again the sun had risen and a golden glow lit John’s room. 

“John.” You whisper trying not to move your head in case he’s sleeping.

“Yeah doll.” He lifts his head to look at you.

“I’m so sorry.” You feel slightly embarrassed and bad that you just fell asleep on him.

“Nothing to be sorry for.” He sighs before standing on his feet with a groan then offering you hand to help you up.

“I’m going to shower.” He says as you dust yourself off.

“After can I give you a haircut?” He laughs a little at your not so subtle realization of his long hair..

“If you’d like.” 

“I’d love.” You say before leaving, assuring him you’d be back when he's done.

You pick up your mess from the previous night. Folding your blanket and putting it back in the basket near the couch. Taking your wine glass to the sink and rinsing it out. You go to your room and change into an outfit for the day and do your morning routine. After you grab your shears, clippers and cape. By the time you're done doing all of this you no longer hear the water running meaning John’s done with his shower. You knock on his door lightly.

“Come in.” You walk in to see him sweeping up his mess with the small house broom and can’t help but smile at the sight. 

“Come on, let's cut your hair in the bathroom, better lighting and you can see what I’m doing.” You say heading straight there. You sit him on the little bathroom bar stool that’s been in there since your ex moved out. Once he’s sitting the only cape you have is pink so you throw it on him begging yourself to not laugh which you fail causing him to smirk. 

“Okay so I’m just gonna clean it up, fade the sides a very little, cut the top with shears and what not.” You let him know.

“You cut your hair?” He replies, staring at you through the mirror.

“Yeah so?” You smile.

“I like it, it looks good.” You feel that feeling only johns been able to provoke.

“Thankyou.” You begin the cut, slowly combing out sections making sure to be precise. He seems far more relaxed than you’d imagined as you just freely cut at the top. After the matter once you're satisfied you shave the sides a little just enough to where it looks cleaner. 

“Can I do your beard and mustache?” 

“You're the hairstylist, not me?” Is all he says. 

So you do, very carefully, mere inches away from his face your hands hold one side of his jaw softly to trim the other side. He watches your expression intently. The way when you’re focused there’s a crease that forms between your eyebrows and your pupils blow a little wide.

“All done.”  You say pulling him from his trance. You move his face with your hands really checking to make sure all is well.

“Very handsome.” You compliment before turning around to rinse your shears and put them away. 

“Thank You doll.” He says examining it himself in the mirror thoroughly pleased with how well you did even though he knows you don’t cut men’s hair. He doesn’t notice you grab his beard oil from the cabinet till you're smoothing it between your hands and asking him to face you so you can rub it through the coarse brown hair. Ever the nurturer.

It feels like time apart only made you two feel closer somehow. Or maybe it’s because you wanted to be close and those feelings were equally reciprocated. 

The rest of that day John had loads of paperwork to file, sign and report. So he did that, he sat in his office for long hours going through the process. The only thing that slightly lightened this burden was your voice humming in the kitchen as you cooked something. You’d stopped by and offered him some which he gladly accepted from your giving hands. Hours later you bid him a goodnight and went to bed and even then he had so much more left.

—————

The next day you catch John in the kitchen and tell him there’s something you must show him.

“So you built it all yourself?” He says as you show him your little project you did outside. There’s a thick coat wrapped around you as you don’t fully step outside to avoid slipping on the icy ground. Him though, he stands on it with no problem in what looks like military issued boots. 

“Yes I did.” You say proudly despite his clear disdain.

“I missed you, even your stubbornness.” After the months John’s been through there was no point in hiding the way he was feeling.

“I missed you too.” You smile while clearly avoiding his gaze.

How had he missed this all along?

“Would you like to go out for drinks?”

“What?” You turn around to meet his eyes.

“Can I take you out for drinks?” What being mere inches away from death does to a man.

“Yeah.” 

-

You both silently walk away trying to break the bounds of the tense pull that makes you want to gravitate towards each other. You put on something cute but also warm and slip on some brown doc martens as your choice of shoe. You do light makeup as you give yourself a pep talk.

“Only two drinks, only two drinks.” You have to tell yourself cause after two your too you. 

You hear John putting his shoes on by the hallway and take in the sight of him, brown leather jacket and beanie. You’re not sure how he’s going to stay warm in that but something tells you he will.

“Ready?” He asks and you nod nervously.

-

“Okay, hold on, I have to do this really slow or I’ll fall.” You say stepping slowly out onto the ground below the porch stairs. 

“Well come here I’ll help you.” He offers his hand. You grab it softly, swooning at the way it encompasses your own. There’s something inside of him that doesn’t even want you to risk walking on this floor but of course he also doesn’t want to push. 

“Okay nice and slow.” You’re not even taking full steps, just small slides. You clutch his hand for dear life and he loves it. 

“Good girl.” He says once you reach the door of his truck which he opens for you. He doesn’t let go till you sit inside then only does he slip his hand from your warm one and closes the door. 

“Which pub?” You ask as he turns on the heater only for your sake.

“The one downtown near the little Italian grocer.” You know exactly which one he’s talking about. Its dim light atmosphere is cozy but fun but usually full of mainly couples.

“Mkay.” You say looking out the window at the gloomy sky realizing it just might rain. 

He glances your way during the small drive, your scent of your floral perfume mixed with his of cardamom and musk is quite perfect. 

“You alright?” He asks.

“Yeah, just comfy, you?” He grins at your response.

“Never been better.”

He pulls into one of the street parking spots and despite the weather the streets are full, he gets out to put coins inside the slot for time before heading to your side of the car. 

“Wait, I'm scared.” You say realizing that the distance to the bar doesn’t seem to be a survivable one. 

“Come on, I'll hold your hand.”

“I’ll fall regardless.”

“Want me to carry you?” He genuinely offers.

“What?” You laugh. 

“Doll I’m very serious I will carry you, just get on my back.”

“What if we both fall?” 

“I’m not falling, trust me.” He says turning around motions for you to get on his back.

“Okay then.” You hook your legs around his upper waist and his arms reach to tuck themselves firmly beneath your knees.

“Comfortable?” He asks. He’s sure you can hear his heart racing from the proximity you’re in. 

“Very.” All your dreams of climbing this man have come true. 

You shut the door as he steps onto the sidewalk. You tuck your chin in by his neck for warmth. He smells woodsy with a hint of musk, it makes your head spin.

“How are you not slipping?” You say very suspicious.

“Doll I could run on this floor with these boots on.” He answers looking slightly over his shoulder at you.

“Well don’t.” You say seriously and he laughs as he approaches the bar, opening the door and setting you softly on the floor. 

He finds you both a booth in the corner and sits on the side where he can see the entire bar, very John of John.

“What do you drink?” He asks, trying to make conversation. Suddenly the air feels very intimate, almost too intimate for what he considers his old man heart.

“When I’m out, martinis.” 

“Espresso?” 

“Mhmm.” You’re trying your hardest to hold the eye contact he’s giving you but something about the blue in his eyes and creases on the side of them has you breaking it quicker than it started.

“I’ll be back then.” He says sliding out of the booth feeling slightly accomplished.

You sit there looking at the lively pub, how many romances are at their peak here, how many friends are having the best night of their lives, how you amongst them are finally feeling like you again. 

“Here we are.” He says returning with two glasses, his is a classic bourbon with a square ice cube in the glass.

“Thankyou.” You say as he slides it over to you.

“So what’d you do while I was gone, other than be reckless and build furniture.” He asks as you sip from your glass.

“I did lots of hair, painted a bit, found new color schemes for decor and that’s kinda it, I’d ask you the same question but I fear you can’t answer.” 

“Your fears are true.”

“That Kate woman, she's very pretty.” Are you a little jealous?

“Yeah she’s also very married.” He says it like he doesn’t know what you're on about.

“And also not into men.” You nearly choke on your drink and swallow hard to get it down.

“Well I was just saying.” Sure you were.

You two have small chatter as you go through drinks. You tried to offer the second round but John said no for you to just stay in your seat. He came back with thirds and you definitely were starting to feel the effects of the previous two, him though not at all.

“So you’re telling me John you as very um good looking as you are haven’t had a girlfriend in how long?” 

“Eight years.” He says while being very amused with your light hearted, open attitude.

“That’s just not right.”

“No?” 

“No, personally, well never mind.” You’re not drunk enough to say what you were about too.

“What about you, why no boyfriends?” 

“I’m very, I would say needy I guess clingy even, I’m a double texter, someone who worries and loves too much and I think that can be overwhelming for a lot of people.” You admit.

“Don’t believe that.” He says, sounding a little annoyed.

“For the right person you could never be overwhelming.” He says looking at you intensely and this time you can’t seem to look away.

Once your third drink is finished it’s raining outside and you’re words away from trouble.

“John?” 

“Yeah doll.”

“You make me feel alive again.” You admit, the alcohol has casted a pretty shade of pink on your cheeks as you lean your head on your hand and John doesn’t think he’s ever been more entranced. 

“You and me both, here drink some water.” He slides it to you. You’re sweet, too sweet. He feels like if he touches you physically or emotionally he’d be tainting art.

“Has anyone told you you're very climbable?” 

“It’s time for us to get going, you're quite the light weight.” He laughs offering you a hand as you slide off the booth.

He leaves a tip on the table before walking with you to the door. He has to bend far more than he normally would for you to secure yourself on his back before he’s walking outside. This time he’s walking faster because of the rain droplets that are falling hard. He seats you in the car and reaches across you to buckle you in before heading to his side. 

The drive home is pretty quiet, he drives extra slowly because of the precious cargo he carries. Once he pulls back into the gravelly drive way you unbuckle and open the door as he puts the car in park. 

“You don’t want to wait for me.” He asks, a little concerned.

“I got this.” You hop out of the elevated truck immediately slipping and having to grab onto the door. He walks quickly to your side laughing at the expression on your face.

“You sure do.” He says as he grabs your arm

“Oh stop it.” You say accepting the help, sliding your feet on the ice again till you get to the door. Once you get inside you groan into the toasty air. 

“Thankyou for tonight John.” You say facing him once you kick your boots off. You hadn’t realized how close you were till you turned around and could feel the heat radiating off of him and smell the bourbon on his breath. 

“No, thank you.” He says feeling awfully captivated, hanging onto your every move. You cup his face and stand on your tippy toes, boldly yet slowly placing a kiss on the corner of his lips. 

He’s starstruck. Absolutely dazed at the look of mischief in your eyes, something that tells him you know exactly what you’re doing to him. 

“Goodnight John.” You say patting his chest and walking down towards your room.

—————

I couldn't wait till tommorrow i'm sorry.

comments and reposts are greatly appreciated:)

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[theapangea]

Bruised

Characters: Lip Gallagher x reader, Fiona, Ian, Debbie, V

Summary/ Request: How do you think lip would react if fwb that they've known each other forever ends up coming to the house in the middle of the night in the middle of winter with sleep shorts and a tank top with socks, covered in bruises

Words: 1.5k

Warnings: Parent abuse, physically abuse

A/N: PROTECTIVE LIP AHHHHH!!!! I just love him and know he'd protect reader at ALL COST! All mistakes are mine as I am sometimes too lazy to proof read but I hope you enjoy!! Let me know what you think!! <3

You are in a daze.

Your frail body shakes as the sudden flashbacks of yelling and pushing and crying continue to play in your head. Trying to understand, to comprehend what in the hell just happened. Thinking a million thoughts yet completely nothing at all. Your head aches, the shooting pressure builds, beating against your skull. 

The snow crunches under your steps, soaking through your socks as you stumble to keep yourself up right. The icy wind causes you to tremble more than the horrors of the night. Barely able to keep your eyes open wide enough to see where you are going. 

Having no particular destination in mind but here you are standing outside Lip Gallagher’s house, knocking on the door in the middle of the night, begging to be let in. 

Lip has been the person you’ve leaned on for almost every bullshit thing that has happened in your life, understanding each other on a deeper level. It was only recently that your relationship with Lip became sexual but your connection was much more than that. And unfortunately neither of you have the guts to make it anything more than just friends who sleep together.

Your knocking rapidly increases, quickly becoming impatient until you hear the lock on the other side click and the porch light turn on. Coming face to face with his older sister Fiona who’s look of annoyance quickly washes over with concern, brows furrowing, mouth open in shock as she stares at your fragile body, wearing only a cotton tank top, small boxer shorts and socks shielding you from the cold. Your exposed skin is covered in purple bruises, deepening in color with every second that you tremble in front of her. 

Immediately snatching one of the jackets off the hook behind her and wrapping it around your shoulders as she pulls you inside. Goosebumps lining your skin as the warm, inside air circles around you. The pain is no longer from the cold but from the aching bruises. 

And while your world has been turned upside down, a happy boy on the next street over is fighting a huge grin as he walks back home.

The extra skip in Lip’s step was from the wonderful night he just spent with Karen, mainly the sex part. Their relationship has become more positive and Lip hopes that they are finally going to make it more official, like boyfriend/ girlfriend official, no one else on the side.

But...becoming official with Karen means that he will no longer get to see you...at all. Karen is hugely jealous of your relationship with Lip. The inside jokes, the constant hanging out, the connection that she sees that you two are obviously oblivious to. And the only way that she agreed to making things official with Lip is that he will have to cut off all ties with you.

Lip is feeling torn, picking between you and Karen should be so easy for him but these past couple of months, especially when you add sex into the equation, makes him question everything. He lets out one more deep breath, the fog floating in front of him as he knows that tomorrow he will finally have to tell you that you can’t be friends anymore. Knowing that the outcome is going to be disastrous.

Skipping every other skip as he jogs up the stairs of the back porch, a curious thought enters his mind as he notices all the lights shining into the darkness of the night and the door unlocked as he jiggles the handle. Walking into the warm kitchen, unwrapping his scarf and shrugging off his jacket, dismissing the items onto the table until some unknown later time.

The commotion from the front end of the house travels around his body as he stumbles to kick off his boots, catching himself on the wall by the stairs to stop himself from falling over. Peaking around the corner, trying to understand the roaring chaos that fills that Gallagher house tonight. 

Ian comes down the stairs, his hand placed on his forehand and the other holds a phone tightly to his ear. Practically arguing with the person on the other line, speaking some details about a house over on Gilmore Street.

Gilmore Street…that’s where you live. 

Lip’s interest suddenly peaked, his face asking a plain question towards his younger brother…what the hell is going on here?

But Ian waves him off, continuing on his story on how the police need to check on the house now and how something really fucked up happened. 

Lip stands there dumbfounded, trying to figure out this super confusing situation that he just walked into. His attention floats elsewhere as the two women in the next room talking abruptly loud. If he didn't know Fiona and V personally, then he would think hat they are arguing. Walking closer to the dining room but not actually in the room itself, Lip watches their interaction. 

Their movements are elaborate and complex. Fiona runs fingers through her hair, tossing it to one side, passing the hard floor beneath her. The conversation between them is making no sense to Lip, something about having to wait until tomorrow and trying to solve some problem. 

Lip stands still, his mind trying to piece the puzzle together from the small details that he has been given. But how could he, when it feels like everyone is talking in code. Like it's some top secret event that he can't know anything about.

Feeling something graze his side, bringing him back to reality to see Debbie walk between the two women towards the living room. In her hands a mug with steam coming from it. Walking quickly to the couch where she hands the mug to a girl. Lip following Debbie's same movements to get a better look at who's in his house. Eyes wide when it see that it's you...

A confused look freezes on his face as he studies your body. Your shaky hands reach out towards the mug as the warm contains seeping through the glass cup through your body. Your eyes fixated in front of you, as if the small girl standing in front of you isn’t actually there. Your chest heaving rapidly, breathing heavily through your nose. Knees bruised, shaking together. 

It is as if the dam that keeps the water of emotions behind a strong wall suddenly shatters. The instant fire spreads through Lip’s body as he sees your weak state. The walls of decorum crumble as his hands turn into fist and his jaw locks. The blood making his face bright red, moving quickly to your side, his knees hitting into the wooden floors hard as he practically pushes Debbie out of the way so he is kneeling in front of you.

“WHAT HAPPENED?” Lip voice breaks through the chaos of the house as he holds onto your shoulders, shaking slightly but your gaze would shift to meet his, “What happened, tell me!” He whines, the pain mixed with anger driving his actions.

“Don’t yell at her dummy.” Fiona shouts as she comes over, grabbing Lip off the floor so they are face to face.

“What the fuck is going on?” The spit spewing from his mouth, his hand signaling towards you and why you are bruised and bleeding and hurt. Why you? Why you?

“We don’t know. Your little girlfriend just showed up here like 10 minutes ago.” V crosses her arms behind Fiona. 

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Lip quickly remarks, the comment would have stung you more if you can actually concentrate but tonight is not the night for you to be dwelling over how Lip Gallagher feels about you. 

Your soft voice speaks his name.

Lip coming to you again, “Hey,” Lip’s kind eyes are on you, his touch now gentle as his heart aches. 

Eyes shaking as they meet him, glossing over as a tear slips down your cheek. But you struggle to get any words out.

“Just tell me what happened?” His hand on your cheek, wiping away the tears, “Please tell me.”

Gulping hard, your trembling body making the liquid in your mug move, hesitating as you say, “My dad."

“He got out?” 

“From where?” Debbie asks.

Lip groans, hate having to explain further, “Prison. Shut up.” Debbie rolls her eyes, obviously annoyed.

“Th-this morning.” The words feel like cotton balls in your mouth.

“He did this to you?” Standing up immediately, “I’m gonna kill that motherfucker. Get the bat Ian.” He points towards his brother who instantly follows his orders.

The tears start flowing now, the snob leaking from your nose. Your body collapsing as the abuse of the night finally settles in causing you lose yourself.

“Lip.” Deb pulls Lip's attention back to you.

“She needs you right now buddy. You can beat the son-of-a-bitch up tomorrow.” Fiona patting his back before leaving the room.

And he knew Fiona was right. He didn't need to be this guy who beat the shit out of some low-life, that isn't going to make him a hero to you. Lip needs to be here for you now, comfort you, take care of you. Be the man that you need.

He realized why you came over to his house, looking for him at your darkest moment. Understanding that you and him can spend hours together without saying a word. Be closer, more intimate then sex with Karen will ever be. It was always going to be you, he was always going to pick you.

Wrapping his arms around you as you sob deeper against his chest, shushing as he rocks you, "I've got you." Kissing the top of your head. The instantly relief coating your body.

~~~

Let me know what you think!! thank you for reading. I LOVE YOU!!!