#these two are quieter but just as impactful

[dragonsholygrail]

Monster bf who has the most sensitive ears experiencing his first Fourth of July. Before now he had always stayed in his solitude. But now that he has you, he finally wants to experience the festivities.

What he wasn’t expecting was for loud cracks to burst through the sky without warning. Upon the first snap of a firework, your Monster boyfriend squirms, loud whimpering leaving him.

He quickly scrambles into your arms, ears pulling back as you two watch the fireworks from your backward. You jolt in surprise but quickly open your arms to him.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” You ask, not even thinking about his hyper sensitive hearing. Your bf whines again as more fireworks go off.

“What is that insufferable noise?!” your Monster bf whimpers. Your hands soothingly move up and down his back as he burrows closer to your body, trying to lessen the impact.

“Oh, it’s- it’s just the fireworks, love,” you explain. But seeing your bfs reaction, realization soon dawns on you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even think. C’mere, let me shield you.”

Your bf immediately takes you up on your offer. It isn’t until Monster bf closes your thick thighs over his ears that he sighs in relief. The sound quieter yet just as frightening as the fireworks continue to crackle.

Monster bf doesn’t try and stop from moving in closer to you. Needing your closeness and comfort. His nose grinding itself into your cunt, soaking up your heat and letting your scent consume him. Your light gasps only helping him.

As the fireworks continue, Monster bf continues to nuzzle and grind his snout into your cunt. Your sweet pussy distracting him from the fireworks. Nosing your panties aside, his tongue delves inside you, fighting your orgasm to wash over you both.

You moan and rock into his mouth, your bf moving with you and grinding into the blanket below you in order to keep your thighs firmly placed over his ears. His tongue ravages you, dipping as deeply into your pussy as he can the longer the fireworks go off.

As the finale starts, Monster bf growls loudly and eats your pussy like it’s his saving grace. Your orgasm crashes into you and you cry out, your essence gushing all over his face. You ride out your high as the finale concludes, whimpering as overstimulation begins.

When your boyfriend lifts himself off you, his eyes are wild and filled with both fear and need. His claws tickle at your thighs as he looks over you. “I think I may still be in need of some comforting,” he rumbles darkly.

[seungminsbaldspot]

Six Years, Five months and Two days | FIVE X READER

pairing: five hargreaves x reader

Word Count: 3843

Genre: angst

General Notes: Lila x Five did happen here folks :/, sexual themes, crude language, this does not correlate with whatever happens during seasons 4 other than Lila and Five jumping into a different timeline together for seven years, Reader is referred to as female and wife

Trigger Warnings:, Infidelity: References to a character cheating and the emotional impact it causes, Emotional Betrayal: Feelings of trust being broken and the pain of betrayal, Toxic Relationship Dynamics: Depiction of a complicated and strained relationship, with emotional manipulation and conflicting feelings, Emotional Turmoil: Intense emotions of anger, sadness, frustration, and regret, Unresolved Grief: Characters grappling with loss and the potential end of a long-term relationship, Verbal Conflict: Arguments and heated exchanges between characters, Emotional Manipulation: Attempt by a character to sway or emotionally influence another through their actions or words, Physical Intimacy Amidst Conflict: Depictions of physical closeness that occurs within the context of unresolved emotional pain, Feelings of Guilt and Shame: Characters experiencing intense regret and self-blame for their actions, Unwanted Advances: Physical intimacy that happens despite conflicting feelings, creating a sense of discomfort, and Psychological Distress: Expressions of mental strain, confusion, and fear of loss.

Author’s note: only one more part left !!

Taglist:(comment if you wanna be added) @fate-posts @zukki33 @nightfurya @lethergy @wingoodlilboymyway @hxllhxund @stxrg3m @bigbobass

Spoiler: All you get is, there will be a part 5

Click here for the next part, Part Five, The finale!

Click here for the previous part, Part Three!

The break has honestly been strange. Five and you no longer speak, but the echoes of what you once had still linger. The house feels emptier, quieter, as if the absence of his presence has created a void that you can't quite fill. It's not just the lack of his voice or the absence of his touch—it's the way everything feels muted, as if the color has drained from your world.

Every day, you find yourself staring at him for far too long. When he's in the same room, it feels like an invisible tether pulls your gaze toward him. You catch glimpses of his familiar profile, the curve of his jaw, the way his hands move when he's deep in thought. There’s a haunting familiarity in his every gesture—a painful reminder of all the moments you shared, now tainted by betrayal and uncertainty.

He avoids your eyes, and you do the same, but the awareness of each other is a constant, almost unbearable presence. When you do accidentally meet his gaze, there’s a flicker of something—a brief, intense exchange of emotions neither of you can fully articulate. It's a mixture of longing, regret, and an unspoken understanding that things will never be the same.

Sometimes, you see him lingering in the hallway or catching a glimpse of you from across the room, his expression unreadable. You wonder if he's feeling the same emptiness, the same strange, hollow ache that you do. You wonder if he misses you—or if he’s relieved that you're giving each other space.

At night, you lie awake, listening to the silence, the emptiness of the bed beside you a stark reminder of what you’ve lost. You think about all the things you wish you could say to him—the questions that plague your mind, the confessions that weigh heavily on your heart. But the distance between you feels like a chasm, and you’re not sure how to bridge it.

You try to focus on other things, to distract yourself from the constant pull towards him. But it’s hard when he’s always there, just out of reach. It's like trying to forget a song that’s been stuck in your head for weeks—you can’t help but hum the tune, even when you don’t want to.

You sigh, trying to busy yourself in your room, cleaning, organizing—anything to occupy your mind. But no matter how many times you rearrange the shelves or sort through your clothes, you can’t escape the thoughts that consume you. Every task feels hollow, every moment a reminder of what you’re trying to avoid.

The days stretch on, each one blending into the next, a monotonous blur of empty hours and restless nights. You find yourself staring out the window, watching the world go by, feeling disconnected from everything around you. The silence in the house is deafening, broken only by the sound of your own thoughts, circling endlessly in your mind.

You try to focus on anything other than him, but it’s hard when his presence is everywhere. You catch glimpses of him in the hallway, the way he lingers by the door as if waiting for something—maybe for you to speak, maybe for a sign that things could go back to the way they were. But you’re not sure if that’s even possible anymore.

You hear a knock on your door. You sigh, a wave of nausea rolling over you. It seems like every time someone knocks at your bedroom door, that feeling of dread rises up in your throat, threatening to choke you. You already know who it is—there’s only one person who would bother to knock softly, who would linger just outside, hesitating before making his presence known.

For a moment, you consider ignoring it, pretending you’re not there. Maybe he’ll go away, maybe he’ll take the hint. But another knock, a little firmer this time, breaks the silence again, and you realize he’s not going to leave.

You drag yourself to the door, each step feeling heavier than the last. Your hand hesitates on the doorknob, your heart pounding in your chest. You take a deep breath and pull the door open, bracing yourself for whatever comes next.

Five stands there, his expression uncertain, his eyes searching yours for any hint of what you might be feeling. “Hey,” he says quietly, his voice strained and tired.

You nod in acknowledgment, standing awkwardly with your hand still gripping the edge of the door. The silence stretches between you, heavy with everything left unsaid. You want to ask him why he’s here, what he wants, but the words stick in your throat. It’s like every time you see him, your heart remembers both the love and the betrayal, and it’s paralyzing.

Five shifts his weight, glancing down at the floor for a moment before looking back up at you. “I—um, Lila got the paternity test done,” he stammers, the words hanging in the air like a loaded gun.

Your breath catches in your throat. “And?” you manage to ask, your voice barely above a whisper, dreading the answer but needing to know.

Five swallows hard, his face tense. "It’s Diego’s," he finally says, his voice soft but steady. "The baby... it’s Diego’s."

A rush of relief floods through you, but it’s quickly overshadowed by the complicated mess of emotions that follow. Anger, hurt, betrayal—they’re all still there, simmering just beneath the surface. You don’t know what to say, what to feel.

You release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your grip loosening on the doorknob. “Okay,” you whisper, your voice shaking with a mix of emotions you can’t quite name. Five takes a small step forward, his eyes searching yours, hoping for some sign of what you’re thinking.

“Is there... is there any chance we could try to start over?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with a mixture of vulnerability and longing. You scrunch your eyes closed, a sigh escaping your lips. “Five, we’ve been together for decades,” you say, your voice heavy with emotion, “and you threw it all away for a few years of mistakes.”

He sighs, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I know. I know all too fucking well,” he replies, his voice thick with regret. The silence that follows is charged with the weight of everything unsaid, the enormity of what’s been lost hanging heavily between you.

After a long, tense pause, he finally breaks the silence. “Am I going to lose you?” His voice trembles, a raw edge of fear and desperation cutting through his words. You close your eyes, thinking.

You close your eyes, the weight of his question settling heavily on your shoulders. He’s your first—and only—love. He’s your husband, at least for now. The history you share, the memories, the years of life intertwined, all come rushing back, making it nearly impossible to think clearly.

You take a deep breath, trying to sift through the tangled emotions. “I.. Give me a reason not to leave.” you say, your voice trembling with a mix of hope and desperation.

Five’s eyes widen slightly, a flicker of relief mixed with uncertainty crossing his face. He takes a step closer, his gaze earnest and intense. “Because I’m still in love with you,” he says softly, his voice cracking with emotion.

You shake your head, your resolve firm despite the turmoil inside. “That’s not good enough,” you reply, your voice tinged with frustration.

He sighs deeply, the weight of your words sinking in. Without hesitation, he steps forward and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you gently towards him. His touch sends a jolt through you, a mix of familiar comfort and renewed uncertainty. You want to push him away, to maintain the distance you’ve worked hard to create, but your body betrays you, leaning into his touch despite your better judgment.

“Then prove it,” you whisper, your voice trembling with a mix of challenge and longing. “Show me that you’re willing to fight for us, to rebuild what we’ve lost.”

His grip tightens slightly, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that speaks of his determination and desperation. “I will,” he promises, his voice raw with sincerity. “I’ll do whatever it takes. Just... please, give me a chance to show you.

You sigh, the weight of his plea settling heavily on your shoulders. You nod slowly, the gesture filled with a mix of reluctant hope and cautious optimism. Five’s eyes soften with a flicker of relief, and before you can react, he leans in and kisses you.

The kiss is both tender and desperate, a blend of old familiarity and new vulnerability. It’s as if he’s trying to pour all his regrets, his hopes, and his love into that one moment. You feel a whirlwind of emotions—familiarity mingling with unresolved pain, love clashing with hurt. His lips linger against yours, seeking connection, reassurance, and redemption.

When he finally pulls away, his gaze is steady, filled with a mixture of hope and fear. “Thank you,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll show you—I promise.”

Before you can fully grasp his words, his lips are on yours again. His kiss deepens, passionate and urgent, as if he's trying to convey all the words left unsaid. You find yourself responding, your body remembering the familiar rhythm of his touch. This kiss is different—it's not like those nights when your anger and lust drove you to call him to your room, at least it didn't feel like it.

He pushes you back into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. His hands move to the hem of your shirt, fingers grazing the delicate fabric as he lifts it gently. The rustle of the material and the cool air against your skin send a shiver down your spine. His gaze is intense, a blend of desire and reverence as his eyes meet yours, silently asking for permission to proceed.

You hesitate for a moment, your heart racing with a mixture of desire and uncertainty. But as you look into Five's eyes, you see a depth of emotion that makes your resolve waver. Slowly, you nod, giving him the permission he seeks. His hands move with a gentle reverence, carefully lifting your shirt over your head, his fingers trailing along your skin as if rediscovering a long-lost treasure.

It’s different, different from then when you’d fuck him out of anger.

This time, there's a tenderness in his touch, a vulnerability in his eyes that speaks of regret and a desperate desire to make things right. As he leans in to kiss you again, you feel the weight of your shared history, the pain of recent betrayals, and a flickering hope for redemption all tangled together. His lips move against yours with a gentle urgency, as if he's trying to convey all the words he couldn't say, all the promises he wants to keep.

His hands move with practiced ease, cupping your covered breast with a gentle yet confident touch. The familiar gesture sends a shiver down your spine, a mix of anticipation and lingering uncertainty. With deft fingers, he skillfully unclasps your bra, the soft click of the fastener echoing in the charged silence between you. The fabric falls away, exposing your skin to the cool air, and you can't help but feel a flutter of vulnerability.

Five's touch is a paradox - both achingly familiar and thrillingly new. His fingers trace delicate patterns across your skin, each caress charged with a potent blend of longing and silent apology. The pads of his fingers find your nipples, pinching them with just the right amount of pressure. It's a testament to your shared history, to all the intimate moments that have led to this perfect knowledge of your body. He's learned exactly how you like to be touched, during your time as fuck-buddies.

His lips begin a slow, sensuous journey down your neck, leaving a trail of soft, feather-light kisses in their wake. Each press of his lips against your skin ignites a spark of pleasure, making you shiver with growing desire. Despite the turmoil still swirling in your mind, your body responds to him instinctively, arching into his touch, seeking more of that exquisite contact.

Five's hands continue their gentle exploration, tracing the familiar contours of your body with a reverence that feels almost sacred. His touch is both an apology and a confession, filled with a passionate yearning to make things right. Each caress is an unspoken plea for forgiveness, as if he's trying to mend the fractures between you with the softness of his fingertips, attempting to rebuild the trust and intimacy that’s been shattered.

As his lips move against your neck, pressing soft kisses along your skin, you find yourself drifting back in time, remembering the first time you met. It hadn’t been like this. Far from it. You were rivals then, each too proud and stubborn to admit any attraction that simmered just beneath the surface of your bickering. You had hated him for his arrogance, his sharp wit that always seemed to cut too deep. But underneath all that resentment was a spark—one you had tried so hard to ignore.

And now, here you were, years later, both of you changed by time, by mistakes, by love, and by loss. The spark that once ignited between you had turned into a raging fire, burning everything in its path, leaving nothing untouched. You wonder if it’s possible to start over, to rebuild from the ashes of what was lost, or if this is just another attempt to grasp at something that can never be fully restored.

You think about the hurt—the betrayal that cut deeper than you ever thought possible. He slept with someone he’s known for far less time than he’s known you. The fucker made you his wife and still never touched you until after he had been with someone else—during your marriage, no less. The thought twists in your gut like a knife, the pain raw and fresh.

Your eyes clench shut, trying to push away the memories, the images that flicker behind your eyelids like a cruel reminder. The way his lips move against your skin now, the softness of his touch—it starts to burn. What once felt familiar and safe now feels foreign, wrong, tainted by everything that’s happened. You want to lose yourself in the comfort of his arms, to forget the betrayal, but the reality of it is too stark, too present.

The conflict within you intensifies with every passing second, each touch from Five a painful reminder of the two worlds you now inhabit—one built on years of love and shared memories, and the other tainted by betrayal and broken trust. His hands move with a tenderness that used to soothe you, but now they only stir up old wounds. You’re caught between the familiar comfort of his embrace and the urge to push him away, to protect yourself from more pain.

Your breath quickens as you try to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions. You can’t just forget what happened, but the thought of losing him entirely is terrifying. You’re not sure if you can keep doing this, living in the middle ground between love and hate, between wanting to forgive and needing to protect yourself.

“Stop,” you whisper, your voice shaky. You press your hands against his chest, pushing him back. He stops immediately, his brows furrowing with confusion.

“What is it?” he asks, his voice soft, cautious.

You struggle to find the words, your chest tight with emotion. “I don’t know if I can do this,” you finally say, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I don’t know if I can forget... or forgive.” Five looks at you, his expression earnest. “Come on, can’t we just, I don’t know, move on? People make mistakes, right?”

The words hit you like a slap to the face. Your eyes widen in disbelief, anger bubbling up inside you. “Move on?” you repeat, your voice rising. “Are you fucking serious right now? You think I can just ‘move on’ from you cheating on me?”

Five’s face falls, realizing his mistake, but he tries to backtrack. “I didn’t mean it like that—”

“Then how did you mean it?” you snap, your anger flaring. “You think this is something I can just get over? Like it’s some minor bump in the road?”

He opens his mouth, but no words come out. He looks lost, like he’s trying to find the right thing to say but is coming up empty. “I just... I didn’t want things to stay like this,” he finally mutters, sounding defeated.

You laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Of course you didn’t. It’s inconvenient for you, isn’t it? Dealing with the consequences of your actions.”

He steps back, a look of guilt and frustration crossing his face. “I know I fucked up, okay? I’m trying here, I just... I don’t know what to do.”

“Maybe start by not saying something so fucking stupid,” you retort, your voice sharp.

Five winces, his eyes dropping to the floor, shame evident in every line of his posture. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, his voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like it wasn’t a big deal. I know it is. I know I hurt you.”

You shake your head, feeling the sting of fresh tears threatening to spill. “You still don’t get it,” you say, your voice cracking with a mix of anger and pain. “This isn’t just about hurting me, Five. This is about breaking something I thought was unbreakable. And you think I can just...move past that?”

He runs a hand through his hair, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. “I don’t know what else to say,” he admits, his voice strained. “I’m trying to make this right, but I keep screwing up. I don’t know how to fix this.”

You let out a bitter laugh, wiping away a stray tear. “Maybe you can’t,” you reply, your tone blunt and unforgiving. “Maybe there’s no fixing this. Maybe you’ve already done all the damage you can.”

Five’s face crumples, a mix of frustration and desperation etched across his features. He opens his mouth to speak, then hesitates. You can see the internal battle playing out in his mind, his jaw clenching as if he's holding back something important. Finally, he lets out a breath, his shoulders slumping as he confesses, “I... I still have feelings for Lila.”

The air leaves your lungs as if you’ve been punched in the stomach. You take a step back, your hands trembling. “What?” The word comes out barely above a whisper, but it’s loaded with shock and disbelief.

He raises his hands in a placating gesture, panic flaring in his eyes. “It’s not what you think—I don’t want to be with her, but after everything… I don’t know how to just shut off those feelings. I thought maybe if we could move on, if I could focus on us—”

You cut him off, your voice rising with a newfound fury. “So that’s it? You think we can just ‘move on’ while you’re still hung up on her? That’s your big plan?” Five shakes his head quickly, stepping toward you, but you hold up a hand to stop him. “No. Just… don’t. I can’t believe you thought you could fix this by just ignoring what you feel for her. You’re so fucking insane.”

He flinches at your words, his face crumpling in a mix of guilt and frustration. “I’m not saying it’s easy!” he snaps back, his own anger flaring up. “I’m trying to deal with it, to make it right with you—”

“Deal with it?” you interrupt, “You don’t just ‘deal with’ something like this, Five! You think I’m supposed to sit around and wait for you to figure out your feelings for someone else?” He sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair, his expression torn. “I don’t want to hurt you anymore. I’m trying to be honest—”

“Honest?” you laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “You don’t get to call this honesty. This is called you being so very fucking selfish. ”

Five's face tightens, his frustration boiling over. “What do you want me to say? That I’m perfect? I’m not! I’m trying to do the right thing here. There’s so much fucking stuff on my mind- I know I messed up—”

You don’t let him finish. “Messed up? You fucked someone else, Five! You betrayed me, our marriage, and now you’re telling me you still have feelings for her? That’s not just a ‘mess up’—that’s a choice! And now you expect me to just stand here and take it?” Five looks desperate, his eyes pleading with you to understand. “I’m here with you, trying to fix things with you. Isn’t that what matters?”

You shake your head, tears of frustration and hurt streaming down your face. “No, Five, that’s not enough. You don’t get to decide what’s enough. You don’t get to make me feel like I have to compete for you. Not with her, not with anyone. If you can’t figure out who you want, then maybe you don’t deserve either of us.”

He looks at you, stricken, his face pale. “I never wanted to lose you,” he whispers, his voice cracking with emotion. “I’m so scared of losing you.”

You let out a shaky breath, your heart breaking all over again. “You should have thought about that before you fucked Lila. I’m not your backup plan, Five. I’m not something you can just fall back on when things get complicated.”

You take a step back, your hand on the doorknob. “If you really want me, you need to prove it. But I’m not waiting around for you to decide. I’ve been hurt enough.”

And with that, you turn and leave, your heart heavy, What the fuck is wrong with you Five Hargreaves?

[pickingupmymercedes]

She's here and so is he - Lewis Hamilton

Series: She's here and she's ours / She's here and she's not only ours / She's here and she's just like you / She's not here, but she'll be / She's here and she won't be the only one / She's here and he won't let her give up / She's here and so is he

request : "hi can we get a fluff one where their son said /do something hurtful to reader so lewis said to their son something like "okay that is your mother, but that is my wife" - anon

pairing: dad!Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

wordcount: +2k

a/n: Hi anon, sorry it took this long but the request was too good and I wanted it to be incorporated into this story! Hope you like it ❤️

______________________________________________________________

The kitchen was a storm of emotions as Y/n and Lewis walked in, their footsteps halting at the sight of their two children in the middle of a heated argument. The tension was palpable, hanging in the air like a thick fog. The younger of the two, their ten-year-old son, stood with his fists clenched at his sides, his face flushed with anger and frustration. Opposite him, their thirteen-year-old daughter, tall for her age and with an air of maturity that often belied her years, looked just as upset, though her demeanor was more controlled.

“I’m tired of it!” their son shouted, his voice cracking slightly. “You’re always the brave one, the perfect one! Everyone says it—Grandma, Kaiden, even my friends at school. You’re never scared of anything, and I—” He broke off, his voice catching in his throat. “I’m nothing like you. Or dad.”

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, there was silence as y/d/n tried to reach for her brother. Then, in a quieter voice, almost a whisper, he added, “You don’t understand! You’re brave and smart, and I’m just... I’m just like Mom,” he breathed out bitterness lacing his tone. “But I wish I wasn’t”

A sharp silence fell over the kitchen. Y/n’s heart constricted at his words, the pain of them cutting deeper than she could have imagined. She took a step forward, her voice soft but firm. "Honey, that’s not fair—"

But before she could finish, he turned on her, his eyes filled with a mix of hurt and anger. “I’m always going to be a failure, just never quite good enough” he snapped.

The word "failure" hung in the air like a dark cloud, its impact immediate and profound.

Y/n recoiled slightly, the hurt evident in her eyes. It wasn’t just what he said—it was the raw emotion behind it, the pain he was clearly feeling. She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

Before she could respond, Lewis, who had been standing silently beside her, took a step forward, his presence commanding the room. His voice calm but filled with authority. He placed a hand on his son's shoulder, guiding him away from the scene of the argument.

“Okay, that’s enough. That is your mother you’re talking about” he said, his tone firm but laced with a protectiveness that couldn’t be missed. “And she’s also my wife. I get that you’re upset, but we don’t talk to her like that.”

Their son’s face crumpled slightly at his father’s words, and the anger seemed to drain out of him, replaced by the tears that started to fall. He looked down at the floor, his shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

Lewis placed a gentle hand on his son’s shoulder, guiding him away from the tension in the room. “Come on, let’s talk just us” he said, his tone softening as they headed toward the study.

The kitchen, now quieter, still buzzed with the tension that had erupted moments before. Y/n stood in the middle of it all, trying to steady herself as she replayed his words in her mind, her heart heavy.

The quiet hum of the refrigerator was the only sound that filled the space.

Y/n stood by the counter, her hands gripping its edge, eyes staring at the spot where her son had been standing just moments ago.

Her daughter remained by the table, her arms still crossed, but the defensive posture had softened. Her eyes were focused on her mother, the earlier conflict giving way to concern.

“Mom?” the daughter spoke softly, her voice hesitant as if she wasn’t sure how to begin.

Y/n looked up, meeting her daughter’s gaze. She could see the worry etched in her features; the same worry she often saw reflected in her father’s eyes. “Yeah, love?”

There was a brief pause, and then the girl unfolded her arms, taking a step closer to her mother. “I hate that he feels like that” she admitted, her voice tinged with frustration and sadness. “I hate that he feels like he doesn’t belong, like he’s not... enough.”

Y/n’s heart ached at her daughter’s words, the pain of the earlier exchange still raw. “I know” she replied, her voice gentle. “But he’s just—”

“He’s just like you,” her daughter cut in, not out of rudeness but out of understanding. “And that’s what makes him special. He’s thoughtful, he’s careful. But... I think he feels like that’s a bad thing.”

Y/n nodded slowly, the truth of her daughter’s words sinking in. “I suppose he does. And that’s probably on me... maybe I haven’t shown him enough how being like that isn’t something to be ashamed of.”

Her daughter moved closer until she was standing right by her. “Do you remember when I started kindergarten?” she asked suddenly, her voice quiet but steady.

“And how I used to hate that I couldn’t go to the races with Dad anymore? That I couldn’t follow him around like I used to?”

Y/n turned slightly, looking at her daughter, a small smile playing on her lips despite the heavy mood. “You were so upset. I had to bribe you with chocolate just to get you to stay in the classroom.”

Y/d/n smiled faintly at the memory but then sobered quickly. “It wasn’t just that I couldn’t go with him... it was that I felt like he wasn’t with me, you know? And at the same time, I knew that y/s/n had you. It’s like... he had you to guide him, and I had to figure it out on my own.”

Y/n’s heart squeezed with a mix of guilt and understanding. “You were never alone. Your dad and I were always there for you, even when we weren’t physically with you.”

The daughter nodded, her eyes glistening in the afternoon light. “I know that now. But back then... I guess what I’m trying to say is that... he completes us, Mom. Even if he doesn’t see it yet. Just like how Dad and I are always pushing forward, you and him are always there to make sure we don’t fall. We balance each other.”

Y/n felt a tear slip down her cheek, but she didn’t bother wiping it away. She pulled her daughter into a hug, holding her tightly. “Gosh, how are you only thirteen?” she whispered into her daughter’s hair. “I guess we do balance each other.”

Her daughter hugged her back just as tightly and as they pulled back, Y/n looked into her daughter’s eyes and smiled through her tears.

“Thank you for reminding me of that,” Y/n said softly. “And I promise you, we’ll make sure your brother sees it too.”

In the quiet of the study, Lewis sat beside his son, who was hunched over, staring at the floor with a mixture of shame and sadness etched on his young face. The earlier outburst still hung in the air, but the space between them was calm now, filled with the low ticking of the wall clock and the distant murmur of the waves outside—a stark contrast to the storm that had raged in the kitchen.

Lewis placed a gentle hand on his son’s back, rubbing slow circles in a way that was meant to comfort but also to remind him that he wasn’t alone.

“You want to tell me what that was about?” Lewis asked softly, his voice carrying the weight of a father who knew there was more to his son’s pain than just the argument.

The boy hesitated, his small fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “I didn’t mean to say it like that,” he finally whispered, his voice cracking slightly with emotion.

Lewis nodded, letting out a small sigh of relief. “I know you didn’t, buddy. But words have a way of sticking around, even when we don’t mean them. And that’s why it’s so important to talk about how we’re feeling, instead of letting it all build up inside.”

The boy’s shoulders sagged further, the weight of his emotions pulling him down. “But it’s true... I’m just like Mom, and I wish I wasn’t.” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lewis felt a pang in his chest at those words, but he didn’t let it show. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, trying to understand where his son’s feelings came from. “Why would you say that? What’s so bad about being like your mom?”

His son looked up, his eyes wet with unshed tears. “Because I’m not brave like you” he said, his voice trembling. “I can’t just... go for it like my sister does. She’s never afraid, and you’re always so confident. But me... I’m just slow, always thinking and worrying. I feel like I weight you two down.”

Lewis felt the weight of those words, realizing how deeply his son had been struggling with these feelings.

He leaned forward, making sure his son could see the sincerity in his eyes. “Hey,” he began, his voice firm but kind. “Being like your mom doesn’t make you any less brave or strong. Your mom is the one who made me strong through so much of our lives.”

The boy shook his head slightly, his eyes still searching his father’s face for answers.

“And because she thinks things through, I knew I was safe” Lewis continued, his tone steady. “She doesn’t just jump into situations without understanding them first. She takes her time, makes sure everything is right before she takes that step. That’s not fear—that’s wisdom. That’s being brave enough to care about the outcome, to want to make sure everyone is safe and okay.” Lewis said softly, his voice filled with conviction.

“And you do that too, son. You’re thoughtful and caring, and that’s a strength. A huge one.”

The boy’s lower lip trembled as he listened, absorbing his father’s words. “But it doesn’t feel like it,” he admitted quietly.

He pulled his son closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “You don’t have to be like me” Lewis said softly, his voice filled with conviction. “You’re not supposed to, anyway. Because who you are—that thoughtful, careful, and deeply kind kid—is exactly who you’re meant to be. And that’s more than enough.”

His son blinked up at him, a flicker of understanding beginning to take hold. “Really?”

Lewis shook his head, a small, understanding smile playing on his lips. “Your mom and I— we’re different, just like you and your sister are different. I might be the one who charges ahead, but your mom is the one who makes sure we’re headed in the right direction. You don’t rush into things, and that’s not a flaw—that’s a strength. Your mom is like that, and it’s one of the things that give me security. She’s the reason we’re where we are today.”

Lewis smiled gently, brushing a stray tear from his son’s cheek as the boy looked up at his father.

“And just like your mom, you’re going to find your own way, at your own pace. You don’t have to be like anyone else. You need to be you. And that’s more than enough. It’s who you are that makes our family work. Without you, we wouldn’t be us.”

His son was silent for a moment, the tension slowly easing from his small frame as his father’s words sank in. “But what about Sis? She’s always so... brave.”

Lewis smiled, recognizing the heart of his son’s fears steaming from the comparisons between sibling. “She sure is. But bravery doesn’t always look the same. Sometimes, it takes more courage to stand still, to think things through, and to make sure you’re on solid ground before you take the next step. And that’s what you and your mother does. And it’s just as important.”

His son looked down at his hands, turning his father’s words over in his mind. “I’m sorry for what I said to Mom,” he murmured, guilt heavy in his voice.

Lewis nodded, understanding the weight of his son’s apology. “I know you didn’t mean it,” he said gently. “But you still need to make it right. Your mom loves you, and she knows how much you love her too.”

The boy nodded again, more firmly this time, and Lewis felt a swell of pride in his chest. “Come on,” Lewis said, standing up and holding out his hand. “Let’s go talk to Mom.”

And as they walked into the kitchen, revealing Y/n and their daughter still there, the boy’s steps quickened.

Lewis watched as he crossed the room to his mother, and as Y/n pulled him into a tight embrace, Lewis knew that, despite the struggles, they would always find their way back to each other.

Their daughter, who had been standing quietly by the counter, watched the scene with a soft smile on her face.

Lewis stood beside her; his heart full as he took in the sight of his family finding comfort in each other. He felt a gentle poke and looked to see his daughter by his side, her eyes shining with relief and pride.

"You know," she whispered, leaning into her father’s side, "I used to think I was the lucky one because I was like you. But now, I see that being like Mom... that's pretty amazing too."

Lewis felt a lump form in his throat at her words. He placed a tender kiss on the top of her head and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "It is" he agreed softly, his voice thick. "It really is."

______________________________________________________________

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[corazondebeskar-reads]

the art of breaking: part two

the art of breaking, part two: theory of decay

very dark!Joel Miller x f!reader

NOTE: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. this fic contains themes of abuse and extremely dark content.

words: 10k

summary: joel knows just how to make you his forever. a sequel to "the art of breaking"

warnings (new warnings in red) and story under the cut; reader discretion is advised.

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

warnings: dead dove do not eat, non-con, dub-con, very dark!Joel, BAD bdsm etiquette, not SSC/RACK compliant, sadist!Joel x masochist!reader, coercion, corruption, manipulation, isolation, gaslighting, glory hole, reader gives tommy a blowjob (joel and tommy do not touch), body modification, permanent marking, captivity, sadism, masochism, pain play, extreme punishment, whipping, impact play in general, mentions of vomit (no description), oral, vaginal, reader x other men, degradation, humiliation, Joel sees reader as property, inadequate aftercare, blink and you miss it piss "play," straight up abuse this time guys, overstimulation, forced eating, needles, voyeurism, objectification, human furniture/ashtray, cigarettes, consumption of non-food items, nipple/clit pumps, this one might be worse than the first idk sorry

Again, I cannot say this enough. This is a dark fantasy and should not be taken as representative of a good d/s relationship—it’s abuse masquerading. Just because I wrote it doesn’t mean I’m condoning it. 

Please read responsibly. 

i. dessication

When he goes to work, he leaves you free to roam the house and do your chores. For shorter trips out, he tends to put you in your cage. There’s no real reason, but it keeps you in a good place. You’re always softer, quieter when he gets back and lets you out. 

He couldn’t do it all the time, of course. There are things needing to be done. Plus, every day, he gets to come home to you knelt, waiting by the door with dinner kept warm. He could afford a housekeeper, but then you’d have nothing to keep your mind and body occupied when he’s away. 

Of course, sometimes he leaves you chained up in the basement. He can’t always be nice, after all. And the thing he loves to come home to most, second only to you kneeling at the door, is your exhausted body still tied where he left it, bearing the marks of his latest pleasure. 

Sometimes, he just leaves you in stocks to contemplate all the raw kisses from his favorite whip. Sometimes, he has you pinned to the table with a vibrator strapped to your clit for the day. On the lowest setting—he’s not a monster. 

Well. It starts on the lowest setting. He can do whatever he wants with it through a handy app. It was the only way Tommy could convince him to upgrade to a smartphone.

But today, you’re just set about neatening up. Neither you nor Joel are messy— though he does have a tendency to empty his pockets wherever he’s standing—and it’s not a huge house. You finish up early and have time to read while supper’s in the oven. 

You’re already kneeling when you hear the key in the door, eyes down, hands behind your back, but you have to tense up not to flinch when you hear a second pair of boots.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” drawls a voice you don’t know. 

The only reason you don’t panic is because Joel’s boots enter your field of vision. You’re intimately acquainted with them—literally—and despite the fresh layer of dirt, you’d know them anywhere. 

“Ooh, damn, she’s good,” says the voice.

Joel chuckles and reaches down to stroke your cheek. “Told ya.” 

You melt a little against his hand, letting the pride in his voice warm you.

He rubs his thumb over your cheek and lets you press a little kiss to the digit before stepping back to take his shoes off and dump the handful of change and crumpled receipts on the foyer table. “C’mon,” he says, snapping his fingers so you know he means you, too.

You resist the urge to look at the stranger, but you don’t like the way he lingers to follow you instead of following Joel. You can feel his eyes on your exposed flesh, the dress just short enough to show off your cunt when you crawl. 

No one has ever come into the house before. At least not when you’re out and about. You don’t know if Joel’s had company while you’ve been in the basement or something; you’ve never even thought about it. All you know is that it’s been a long time since you’ve seen another person. 

It’s terrifying. 

You go to kneel between Joel’s feet, but he stops you. “Turn around,” he says, guiding you with firm hands to face forward. 

He laughs when he sees that you’re still staring very carefully at the carpet. “Y’can look at him; he ain’t gonna bite.”

The other man, who has settled in the armchair facing the couch, laughs too. “I might,” he says.

“No, you won’t.” Joel’s voice goes hard for a moment, and you don’t need to see to know he’s glaring. 

It makes you feel better. So what if someone’s looking at you? Joel’s still protecting you. 

He lifts your chin up so you have to look at the other man. He’s broad, though not as much as Joel, with dark curls and dark eyes that make you feel like he wants to cut you open and see how you tick. 

“This is my little brother, Tommy,” Joel says. “Go tell him hello.” 

“Hello,” you say quietly. 

“C’mon, now, go give him a proper greeting,” Joel nudges you with his foot. You crawl over to Tommy and kneel between his legs. Your gaze darts from him to Joel, teeth worrying at your lip. 

“Don’t embarrass me, girl,” Joel warns.

Tommy lifts your chin with his hand. “He wants you to suck me off. Go ahead.” 

It’s nice, but it’s not his permission you need. You risk one more glance at Joel. 

“You heard him. You got two seconds, sweetheart, before you’re gonna regret it,” he growls.

“You goin’ soft? You usually have ‘em trained better by now,” Tommy teases, but his words have Joel seeing red. 

You sit back. “What?”

“Sorry, sweetheart, did you think you were special?” Tommy says with a nasty smirk. He pats your face. “Poor thing.”

You look at Joel, tears welling up. 

“What, you think I had a house full of equipment that’s never been used? Y’should be grateful. All my toys before you had to suffer some trial and error. I got it perfected now, and you’re wasting it, being a fuckin’ disobedient bitch.” 

You close your eyes tight and choke back a sob. He’s never, ever spoken to you like that before. When you turn back to Tommy, you have your mouth open wide and waiting.

He leans back. “Well? You gonna make me do all the work?”

“Can I use my hands, please?” you say, eyes darting from Tommy to Joel. 

“Great, now you got her all nervous,” Tommy bitches, and Joel rolls his eyes. 

“Go ahead,” Joel tells you gruffly. You’ve been so good. So obedient. Maybe he shoulda warned you that he wanted to show you off. No, he thinks, it’s not his fault. He didn’t owe you a warning. You should just accept it and obey.

You’re shaking when you tug open the button of Tommy’s jeans, fumbling with the zipper. Apparently, it takes long enough that he grunts and knocks your hand away, pulling his cock out. 

It feels like a trap. Joel has not explicitly ordered you to do this. But he doesn’t usually try to trick you. 

“For Christ’s sake,” Tommy snaps, and yanks you forward. You get with the program quickly, wrapping your lips around him and trying to do your best. 

He’s smaller than Joel, but it’s a decent cock. Not that it matters to you. Despite not having to gag on him, you can’t breathe anyway, too preoccupied. Why is Joel doing this? Is he going to punish you for it later? 

And the worst thing, the thing that keeps bouncing around your brain as you try to get Tommy off: What happened to the other girls? Did he get tired of them and kick them out?

Was he not going to keep you?

You don’t notice you’re crying, but Tommy clearly enjoys it. He moans and holds you down as he cums down your throat. You aren’t ready, though, and sputter a little, coughing and leaking his cum down your chest. 

“Jesus Christ,” Joel snaps. He gets up off the couch and yanks you away from his brother by the hair. “What the hell's the matter with you today?” 

“I’m sorry,” you cry. 

“Shut up,” he says, and drags you out to the place you visit in most of your nightmares, despite only having been there once in reality. 

The Pit. 

ii. consumption

When he comes to get you in the morning, you’re wrecked. Deflated, no more tears left to pour down your cheeks. For now, at least.  

The sun is against his back when he opens the gate, reaching down for you with one strong arm. Bathed in the golden light, he is every inch your savior, and when you’ve climbed out on shaky legs, you prostrate yourself at his feet the way he likes. 

He’s still mad, though, so he steps one filthy boot on your head and grinds your face into the mud. He pisses on it for good measure, the hot stream dripping down your hair and face onto the soil. 

He’s got a switch in one hand. With you effectively pinned in place, he wastes no time in swinging it down on your ass. 

You scream and sob as he beats you. When he finally stops, when he’s drawn every bit of his anger in welts against your skin, he lifts his boot from your head and squats down. 

“Why d’you have to make me do this?” He’s solemn, sorrowful. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” you say, focusing on controlling the hysterical sobs wrenching from your chest. 

You don’t know what will follow, so you remain still, not daring to move without an order. 

“I should drop you off at a fuckin’ whorehouse,” he mutters. He pulls you up by your hair, and you scramble to your knees. “You can learn to suck who you’re told to suck.”

“Please, sir, please don’t, please—” It’s too much. You stumble, sobs wracking your body hard enough that you can’t move. You collapse in the grass with his hand still holding your head up. 

He lets go, letting you fall. 

You crawl to his boots and kiss them, mud be damned. It wasn’t like you weren’t covered in it anyway. “Please, sir, I’m so sorry, please don’t—” you say between sobs. 

“Please don’t what? You think you’re in any position to be askin’ for anything?”

“Don’t get rid of me, please; I promise I’ll be better; I can be good.”

“I’ll think about it, if you can fuckin’ earn it.”

“Please, please let me try to earn it.”

He squats down and helps pull you to your knees in front of him, cupping your filthy face in both hands. “I don’t wanna send you away. You know I love ya. But if you can’t be good, then what’s the point, baby?”

Your sobs are subsiding out of the pure elation that comes from his gentle touch. “I’ll do anything,” you whisper.

“I know ya will. You don’t really have a choice.” He sighs, shaking his head. “I’m gonna get you fed and taken care of. But you’re about to have one of the worst days of your fuckin’ life.”

You choke on a sob and sway a little. The fear and the hunger are like a fog over your brain. 

“Hey. Listen t’me.” He holds your hands in one of his. “You’re gonna learn, and it’s gonna be real hard for ya. But at the end of it all— if you take it all like a good girl—you’ll be forgiven. Got it?”

You look up through tear-sodden lashes, lip quivering, and nod your head. 

There’s no part of you anymore that registers an issue. No warning bells, no red flags, no hair raising. 

You follow him to the bottom of the patio steps, where he nudges you to kneel back down, folding over so your face rests against the soil. You wait while he goes inside, unsure of how much time has passed until he comes back out with a plate of eggs, scrambled with cheese and little bits of sausage. 

That raises some alarms. Not to the way he treats you, but more of a signal for what to expect. It’s protein-heavy, which isn’t necessarily unusual, but it smells delicious. And there’s no way you’re getting to eat that after behaving so badly. 

You’re half right. He squats down next to you and scoops up a bite with the fork. You don’t take the bait; you know that’s not for you. 

He moans exaggeratedly when he chews, grinning all the while. And then he scrapes the rest off the plate into the dirt in front of your face. 

“Ah, ah. Not yet,” he says, and you close your eyes at the sound of his zipper being yanked down. 

“You get wet from that beating earlier?” he asks.

You nod, even though he’s already reaching down between your legs and shoving his fingers in your cunt. He brings back his shiny hand and strokes his cock. 

“Look at me, baby,” he says, shifting onto his knees so when you open your eyes, you’re faced with his fist pumping away at the red, angry head. “Coulda been you. Shoulda been, but bad girls don’t get what they want.” 

You whimper. It really does hurt your feelings, but you know you have nothing to say for yourself. 

“Open. Maybe you’ll get lucky, and get some fresh.”

You obey immediately, squeezing your eyes back shut as soon as he starts to cum. A little bit lands in your mouth, which you hold open.

“You can swallow that. But don’t eat yet.” 

He walks away, puttering around on the patio. You try to work up the nerve for his command, stomach churning. Maybe it’ll still taste fine. Maybe cold semen and dirt won’t ruin it that much. Maybe. 

If you hadn’t earlier, you believed him now about it being the worst day of your life. He certainly wasn’t starting out small. Sure, you’d eaten off the floor before, but inside the house. The house you clean, so you know how sanitary it is. 

But thinking about doing this makes you want to cry. And when he tells you to get started, you do cry. Just a little. 

“You got about six minutes,” he says, checking his phone for the time instead of the eternally broken watch on his wrist, “and there better not be a single crumb left. Get your ass up here as soon as you’re done.”

You’re not sure how long it takes you, but it must be nearly the whole six minutes, because by the time you’re knelt at his feet on the patio, he says, “Cuttin’ it damn close, sweetheart.” 

He’s playing fucking Candy Crush, legs kicked out on the little wooden table in front of him. He’s got you knelt at his side, and after a few minutes, he digs into his breast pocket and hands you a smushed carton of cigarettes. 

You draw one carefully out of the pack and extend it to him, letting go once he’s pinched it between his lips and pulling out the lighter. Carefully, you ignite the tip for him and tuck it back away. You go to give the carton back, but he shakes his head.

He pulls the cigarette out of his mouth to blow smoke. “Hang onto that for me. And this,” and he hands you his coffee cup. 

It’s not the first time he’s used you as a table. He tried using you as a footrest but found it less satisfying. You try to sit and work through your nerves, try to ignore the terror that he might not keep you if you can’t endure the day. 

It’s a good thing that he drained you of any concept of dignity long ago, cut you open, and let it ooze away like pus from an infection.  

“Open,” he says absently, not bothering to look away from his game.

Your eyes and mouth snap open, and he taps the cigarette against your lip, letting the ash fall onto your tongue. You jerk back a little but correct it immediately.

He quirks an eyebrow. “I’ll give ya a pass this time. But keep your mouth open, tongue out, and don’t fucking swallow.” 

He’s clearly happy to spend the afternoon like this. He goes through a second cigarette and still doesn’t let you swallow or spit. Your knees ache from the planks of the deck. 

He gets up and goes inside for a few minutes, taking his empty coffee cup with him. You don’t dare drop your position, though. 

When he comes back out, he hands you a bottle of beer, condensation already dripping. He resettles to watch the game on his phone. 

Anything resembling hope is trickling out. He hates watching things on the little screen, peering at it through his glasses. But he never smokes inside the house, so he’s resigned himself to this for the sake of your punishment.

It makes you feel less than the ash on your tongue. 

By the time it’s over, your mouth has long gone dry, itching with the ash of four cigarettes, when he stands up and stretches. He leans down and holds your chin before spitting in your mouth.

“There ya go. Swallow.” 

And you do. When you cough a little as the ashes cling to your dry throat, he pries your mouth back open and spits again. 

It helps a little. 

iii. dismemberment

You’d only been in the Pit once before. The first time was arguably your worst offense, which was good, Joel thought, that you still hadn’t topped that misbehavior. 

But as glad as you are that it hasn’t happened a lot, it means you don’t really know what to expect. When he brings you into the ensuite, you know this routine enough that you kneel on the shower floor, barely flinching when he turns only the cold tap, and the faucet sputters to life. 

He never gets in until you’re shivering, so while he gathers fresh clothes and towels, you scrub the mud from your body. When he checks and finds you satisfactory, he turns the knobs until the water runs warm. 

Your shivers don’t subside for a few more minutes, though. Not until you’re practically done cleaning him with the spongey loofah. Hot tears burn in the corners of your eyes, though only a few slip loose.

When he turns around and takes it from you, you thank him for letting you wash him. 

He gives you a smile, hand cupping your cheek.

“Of course, baby. Don’t worry. I’m going to help you remember how to be my good girl.”

But first, before he can follow up on the threat, he washes the mud and piss from your hair with gentle hands, massaging your scalp. You hold still, head tipped back, and let the tears come harder.

He notices but doesn’t comment. It’s normal now, when he takes care of you after a hard punishment. Or, in this case, in the middle of one.

You go to speak, to pour out your regrets and devotion, but he shushes you.

“I want you quiet ‘till I say otherwise,” he says. “Nothin’ outta you unless it’s an emergency. Got it?”

You nod, and he helps you to your feet, drying you with a soft towel and taking care around the raised welts on your ass. There will be some nasty bruises tomorrow, but when isn’t there? Your tits have mottled spots of yellow fading, and the shape of Joel’s hand around your throat basically never leaves. 

He gives your raw, burning skin a sharp smack, sending you off to put on the dress he’s laid out for you.

He tells you nothing, just leads you to the truck. The drive is quiet, apart from the crooning voice on the radio. It’s a bit of a drive, and you park in a broken-up lot surrounded by rusty chainlink fence. He grabs your hand and takes you across the street to a dilapidated building. A cheap banner is tacked above one of the doors. 

Joel hands a bill to a man, who opens the door just enough for you to squeeze in. It doesn’t take long to figure out where you are.

“Been a while since I brought you someplace nice, baby. Hope you like it, ‘cause we’re gonna be here most of the night.”

That’s the understatement of your life. He hasn’t taken you out of the house in over a year. You’re not sure you remember how to exist away from home, clinging to his arm as he leads you through the club.

You can’t decide what will be worse, but you don’t have to wonder for long when he drags you around to an empty stall. He’s not there to use a hole. You’re there to be one. 

He clips your collar to the wall with just enough slack that you could pull back to breathe if the person on the other side doesn’t let you. 

He takes the ring gag out of his pocket and dangles it in front of you. “You need this, or are ya gonna be good?”

“I’ll be good,” you say immediately, a phantom ache in the hinge of your jaw. 

“You sure? ‘Cause if you have to ask later or I have to make that decision myself, there’ll be hell to pay.”

“I’m sure,” you whisper. 

“Good.” He pats the side of your face, two sharp smacks in lieu of a caress. There will be no softness for you tonight. 

He waits to talk to you until your mouth is full. You look miserable, but you don’t hesitate. It’s not to the standard he’d usually require, but you’re both aware of the hours ahead, so he lets you pace yourself. 

He crouches down near you. “You like that? Some random dirty prick in your throat?” 

You, of course, can’t answer, but your eyes close against the hurt.

“It’s fucking disgusting. You think I want to let just anyone use you? I could fuck any hole I want. I could go out there and have every cunt and ass and mouth. You know why I won’t?”

Your eyes flick over to him, but you don’t try to answer, don’t stop what you’re doing. 

“Because they ain’t you, sweetheart. You’re my perfect girl. Nicest I’ve ever had. And if I got something this nice, and I don’t share it with my brother? You don’t even suck him off right? How do you think that made him feel, baby?”

He keeps it up, past the point where he feels like carrying on, but he can tell it’s wearing you down faster than the relentless facefucking. You’re starting to work your jaw, joints popping in between visitors, but even that doesn’t compare to the way you’ve started to shake when he’s scolding you.

“I know you’re tired, baby. I hope you remember this fuckin’ lesson because I’m not sacrificing two nights of sleep again to repeat it.”

You whimper around the stranger’s cock, which encourages them to fuck into you harder. But Joel knows the tears in your eyes aren’t from that. 

“Yeah, you were bein’ selfish, huh? I couldn’t fuckin’ sleep with you out there, and now I’m up all night with you here.”

There it was, he thought, watching you break. A little too early; it was going to be tough to keep you going. But nothin’ did you in like the thought of having hurt him in the process. 

And it was true. He never slept with someone out in The Pit. Too fuckin dangerous. He kept watch on a camera. He needed you scared and sorry, not dead. 

He watches as you choke down the stranger’s seed, looking like you might retch. He shuts the little sliding door for a few minutes and gives you some water. After you’ve rehydrated and seem a little less green, he opens it back up.

“Alright, get ready for the next round.”

In the truck on the way home, he keeps you tucked close to his side. Between the dark, empty highway and his coat wrapped around you, you start to doze off. 

He nudges you a little. “None of that now. Ain’t finished with you yet.”

You whimper, not in protest but in exhaustion. Despite how hard you try to fight it, you’re fast asleep when he pulls into the driveway. 

He thinks about waking you up anyway, to follow through on his word. He carries you inside and up to the bedroom, still deliberating, but when he tries to set you down on the bed, you cling to him desperately, even in your sleep. He manages to wriggle the coat off you and lays down beside you. He’ll just let you both rest for a little while.

You wake up, mid-afternoon, shaking all over. Joel awakens moments later, eyes wide as he tugs on your arm to roll you over. 

“Oh, baby,” he says, and moves to get out of the bed. “Knew I shouldn’t have let you go to sleep.”

But you grab onto him, lip trembling. 

He knocks your hand away. “I‘ll be right back, jus’ hold on.”

You’re curled into yourself, sobbing, when he gets back three minutes later. 

He hands you a water bottle anyway. “Sit up; you need to eat. It’ll help.”

Somehow, you find the strength to struggle and wriggle your body into sitting. He brings you to lean against his chest while he leans against the headboard. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, a kiss pressed to your head. 

You start crying hard all over again. 

“I know. M’sorry. I should have talked to ya last night, huh? S’that what you’re all worked up about?”

You nod. There you are, sitting in his bed, when you hadn’t fucking earned it. But he doesn’t shove you off or hurt you for it; he just feeds you a protein bar and lets you sip at the water between bites. 

After he’s given you the last of the bar, he has you slide down to your knees by the side of the bed.

“What happened?” he asks.

“I disobeyed and embarrassed you.” 

“I didn’t ask you what you did wrong.”

“Oh,” you say softly, and have to think. “I didn’t understand, at first. That you wanted me to suck his cock.”

“And after you did?”

“I—” you don’t want to say it. You know he’s going to be mad. He doesn’t like when you question things like this.

“Is this because Tommy said you weren’t special? ‘Cause you know better.” 

“No, I just… why did you get rid of the others? What did they do?” 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says, and cups your face in one hand. “I don’t think that’s anything you gotta worry about. Not anymore.”

“But how will I know how to do better?”

“You already are. None of ‘em ever made it this far. They talked big talk but couldn’t back it up. Some of ‘em didn’t want to give up the things you have, some of ‘em couldn’t handle my expectations. I told you, you’re the nicest thing I’ve ever had. You’ve let me make you exactly the way I want you to be.”

“Even though I was so bad the other night?”

“Yep. Because you took every consequence, and I know you’ve learned your lesson. And you’ll probably fuck up again someday. But if you keep wantin’ to be better, I’ll keep teachin’ ya.” 

You can’t help but cry again. You’re so tired and so tired of crying. 

“What, were you worried I was gonna replace you with some new young thing someday?”

You nod, and he clicks his tongue disapprovingly.

“I’m gettin’ old, sweetheart. I don’t want to keep breakin’ in toys that ain’t worth my time. I just finished puttin’ you back together exactly the way I like ya. You stay my good girl, and you’ll be mine ‘till I die.” 

It doesn’t stop your tears.

“Hey,” he says. “What do you need?”

It startles you. “What?”

“What do you need? What’s gonna make you feel better, baby?” 

You’re not sure when the last time you’ve had to think about something like that is. He’s been taking care of you for so long now. 

“Whatever you want,” you say. 

“No, baby, that’s not what I’m asking.”

“That’s my answer, though,” you realize. “I need to feel whatever you want me to.”

“God damn,” he whispers. “I fucked you up, huh?”

Your lip trembles.

“No, baby, I didn’t mean that in a bad way. It’s just kinda incredible. Jesus. How could you think I’d ever get rid of you? There’s not a fuckin’ bit of you that isn’t mine.” 

Your cheeks burn, so you bury your face into his palm and press a kiss to the center. 

“You want to know what I want, is that right?”

You nod. 

“I wanna fuck your pretty little mouth. And then I want to order us some fuckin’ takeout and eat it in the bath.”

It makes you smile just a little. 

“Yeah? That sound good, baby?” His thumb rubs against your cheek. 

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright, open up for me.”

You wrangle yourself into position. The initial weight and taste of him sends warmth through your bones for the first moment since he dragged you outside. 

It’s sloppy, the way he fucks your throat, in a way it usually isn’t. It’s always messy, but his thrusts are erratic. You can’t keep up with his pace because there simply isn’t one. It’s not long before he’s holding you down and pumping his cum down your throat.

It trickles down and cleanses everything in its path. You’re lighter, like you can breathe again. You thank him sweetly, pressing a kiss to his twitching cock. 

He’s panting, but strokes your cheek with one hand. “That’s my good girl. Feel better now that I washed all those other guys outta your mouth?” 

Technically, he had done that last night, had shoved three soap-covered fingers in your mouth in the gross club bathroom. Wretchedly, it had the side effect of making you nauseous, and he had insisted on doing it over after you threw up.

But this felt more pure to him, more consecrational in a way. The soap might have cleared the actual evidence away, but his come was your wine and wafer. 

“Yes, sir,” you say into the flesh of his thigh where your head rests. You kiss there for good measure, eliciting a pleased hum from him that sends you preening a little. 

He lays back on the bed, leaving a hand on the top of your head to stroke your hair while the other gropes around for his phone. “What do you want, baby? Lo mein?” 

“Oh, yes, please.” 

He feeds you noodles in the bath and then eats you out until you fall asleep. 

iv. reduced to bone

You’re on your knees in the basement, bent forward over a metal pipe placed at just the right height to nestle into your hips and keep them tilted up in the air. Stocks hold your head and wrists in place, tits hanging just below. The wood is slowly dampening as you drool around the ring gag. 

“Got a surprise for you, baby,” he had said when he led you down. “You know how you keep beggin’ me to hurt you worse, and I have to keep tellin’ you I’m not tryin' to wear you out?”

“Yes, sir?” 

“Well, I think you’re going to like this.”

That had been… well, you’re not entirely sure. A while ago, maybe, but your brain wasn’t the best judge of time right now. After he had secured you here, he had dragged out the little machine. It’s sitting under your torso somewhere, thin clear tubing stretching out like a web he’d caught you in. 

There’s no noise but the hum of it, which you’ve gone pleasantly numb to. The pressure is unending, each nipple and your clit being tugged into the tiny cups relentlessly. 

It tingles, just on the side of too gentle to be fulfilling on its own. That’s okay. You’re pretty sure you’ll be in delicious, mind-shattering agony soon. 

This you know because, well, it’s Joel, but also because of the tools he’s laid out on the little wheeled cart and left for you to stare at. 

A thin cane. Clover clamps with a length of chain. A tawse with a tapered, pointy tip. A wand. 

It makes you dizzy to look at. 

Also, you know because it’s a Friday night. Joel enjoys you however he likes any day of the week, but he’s careful about saving the deepest of his cruelties for Fridays. Because mind-shattering wasn’t really an exaggeration. When he gets like this, you sometimes don’t surface enough to take care of yourself for a day or two.

On those occasions, he never leaves you alone. Doesn’t want to, both because he loves when you need him that deeply and because you’re so soft and pliant. Truthfully, he thinks he could do anything to you then and you’d thank him for it. 

Which is why he’s got Tommy coming over tomorrow. It’s not that he thinks you need to be out of it to avoid a repeat of last time. He knows you learned your lesson and you’ll be good. 

But he’s got something special in mind that he needs help with. It’ll just be easier for everyone if you’re at your most agreeable. 

And yeah, you owe Tommy a blowjob. One of the ones that make Joel feel like he mighta died and somehow gotten through the pearly gates by the grace of your devotion. 

Plus, he’s pretty sure you’re going to love his plan, and he wants you unprepared, so you’ll cry real pretty and be truly desperate to show him your appreciation. It’s been on his mind since that night a few months back when you didn’t seem to believe him about never letting you go. 

He’s never fucking letting you go. There’s nothing in this world that could take you from him. He’s made sure of it. 

Sometimes, he has to remind himself that you don’t know you’re married. 

He thought about telling you that night, so you’d understand the depth of the commitment he’s made. But he doesn’t want you to take it the wrong way. Doesn’t want you thinking you need to act like a wife . 

He’d had a whole bucket of bullshit cooked up to excuse it, but when he told you to sign the paper, you hadn’t questioned it. Hadn’t questioned that you couldn’t see what it was, only the line where he pointed. You’d signed the fucking paper and never asked a goddamn thing. 

He was glad. He didn’t like lying to you. This was just one of those hoops to jump through in a world that didn’t understand what you shared. 

When he comes back down, your eyes are already glazed over. Your body shines with a thin layer of sweat, and your chest is heaving as you squirm. It’s gone beyond gentle. The waves of suction have you whimpering soft and high, barely louder than a breath, but nearly constant. 

He chuckles and strolls over, crouching down to wipe the sweat off your brow with the bandana from his pocket before it gets in your eyes. You give him a truly pathetic look, eyes wide as you drool helplessly. 

“Not so nice now, huh?” 

You whine. 

He strokes your cheek with an exaggerated pout before sliding two fingers into your mouth, pressing down on the back of your tongue. It tries to curl around them, eliciting another cruel laugh. 

“Jesus, girl. S’there anything that would stop ya from gagging for my cock?”

You shake your head. Even if you weren’t spread by the ring gag and choking on his fingers, you’re beyond speech. Too far deep. 

Joel actually doesn’t mind when you talk. He’s got no rules restricting your speech (well, most of the time). As long as you’re respectful, he likes the company. 

But he really likes when you go quiet like this. When he’s pushed you so far that you can’t . 

“Look at you, all worked up. We haven’t even gotten started, baby. You gonna be able to take it?”

You nod, whining, and he pulls his fingers out of your mouth and wipes them on your cheek. 

“What was that, baby? Couldn’t quite understand ya.”

Tears spring to your eyes as you whine again. 

“I’m just teasin’,” he says and kisses your forehead. “I got ya. I know you’re gonna be my good girl and take everything I fuckin’ want.”

He reaches down and tugs the tubing until the cups pop free of your breasts. You cry out, but it turns into a desperate moan when he tugs the one off your clit. 

Yeah, he coulda turned the pump off first so they just fell off, but where’s the fun in that? 

He’s grinning wickedly as he reaches back up to your breast. He barely, just barely, brushes over the side of your nipple, and the sound you make goes right to his cock. 

“Fuck, you’re so swollen.” He has to remind himself he’s playing the long game; he just wants to pinch and pull so badly. He’s pretty sure you’ll scream, even though normally it wouldn’t be much at all. 

But he wants to fuckin’ torture you tonight, so he’s going to drag it out. He wants you incoherent and beaten down when he’s done, so far gone you’ll stay there for days. 

So he’s gotta start soft. He drags his fingertip around your areola, not quite brushing the nipple but tracing the ring left behind by the cup. You twitch, shoulders jerking back, and he grips your breast. 

“None of that, now,” he croons, letting go and switching sides to torment your other breast. 

It’s holy, in that way you never quite understood. Not like the Jesus kind, though you never were much for church either, but in the way that people chase salvation through empty bottles and sharp needles. 

With the wand and the tawse, he breaks you down again and again and again. But that’s the thing about Joel. He reduces you to pain or pleasure or the delicious apex of both that brews between your thighs, and then he cleans you back up, puts the pieces back where he likes them.

He makes you come until you cry, and then, when you’re sobbing and exhausted, that’s when the night really begins. You’re twitching and jerking at the barest contact, writhing with every snap of the cane. 

It’s so, so good. Until it isn’t. But he’s running that damn mouth of his, that sweet, filthy mouth, and you can’t not take it. Your tears are gone, all run out; he likes to wring you dry. And he keeps rubbing his hand over your hypersensitive flesh, already raw and ruined, and murmuring soft words and sweet taunts. 

“Look at you,” he croons. “My pretty little toy. You’re so beautiful, suffering for me like this, baby.”

And so you do. You suffer for him. There’s nothing left in your little subby brain right now but Joel Joel Joel. 

You’re dry. He almost can’t believe it. The only time you’ve not been a sloppy, soaking mess was when he broke your finger. 

He whistles low and slow. “Shit, baby. Guess you have some limits after all, huh.” 

It’s impressive that you can even lift your head enough to shake it weakly. An overwhelming fondness washes over him. 

“ Aw. Takin’ it for me anyway, were ya?” He comes around and squats near your head, unhooking the gag and easing it out of your mouth. He rubs gentle circles on the hinges of your jaw as you whimper.

“Did so good for me, baby. Lemme get you outta there, and I’ll give you my cock.”

You shake your head, tears spilling over, but you don’t have a voice. The words don’t come together in your mind, just devastation.

His grip turns tight, forcing you to look at him. “No? You tellin’ me no?”

You shake your head again, lip quivering. 

“You don’t want my cock?”

You shake your head harder and try to reach for him, hands flexing where they’re bound in the stocks. Trying to make him see just how bad you want his cock. 

Luckily, he understands that much. “You wanna stay there? Baby, my knees ain’t gonna like fuckin’ you here.” But he can tell from the way your face crumples that he still isn’t quite getting it. 

“Are you tryin’ to tell me you want me to keep goin’?” 

You nod and he slaps you, a sharp strike that catches you by surprise.

“Stupid girl,” he says, scowling, and gripping your chin tightly between his thumb and forefinger. “I decide when we’re done. The whole point of this was not to ruin ya. This ain’t a punishment. Well, it wasn’t. Might be, next time.” 

He stands up, shaking his head. “Dumb fuckin’ cunt.”

It hurts worse than the cane did. 

When he sees the heartbreak on your face, he sighs. “Ah, shit. Look, I know you’re just tryin’ to please me. But you’re makin’ me feel bad for tryin’ to be careful with ya. If I take it too far today, you won’t be able to take as much anymore. I ain’t breakin’ you.” 

You’re sobbing too hard to respond, but you don’t try to argue or struggle when he releases you. You crawl to lay kisses to the toes of his boots and nuzzle your cheek against them.

He sees it for the apology it is. 

v. parched to dust

This time, when Tommy Miller takes out his cock in front of you, you’re ready. And there’s no way in hell you’re disappointing Joel again, so you wrap your lips around him, not quite eagerly but with enough determination that no one could fault you.

When you drag the second consecutive orgasm from him, he tugs you away with a fist in your hair, panting and gasping. Joel swats his hand away and beckons you back to his lap. 

“ Jesus,” Tommy finally says, tucking himself back into his jeans. 

“Told ya it was just a bad day,” Joel snipes. 

“Sorry,” Tommy says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Shoulda figured. It’s just… you’re a little soft for her, yeah?”

“Course I am. But I’m not soft on her.”

You know he loves you. You do. But hearing him admit that he’s soft for you makes your chest ache. 

“Got another surprise for ya, baby,” Joel says, rubbing his hand over your back. 

You’re overwhelmed. It’s not that he doesn’t give you things or do things for you; it’s that it’s never such a big deal. It just is . He takes care of you. That’s how this works. Not gifts and surprises. 

You bite your lip so you don’t question it, but he sees through you.

“Now I know you don’t remember. D’you even know what day it is?” 

“Saturday,” you say. “You’re home.” 

He shakes his head, but it’s betrayed by the smirk. “You’re right, baby. But what’s the date?”

You actually have to think for a minute. You hadn’t crossed off the calendar this morning like you usually did, and yesterday’s activities have you a little rattled. “It’s um, it’s August 19th?”

“That’s our anniversary, baby.”

Your brows scrunch as you try to think back. That’s not right. Your first date was in February. You moved in sometime early in June. You’re not sure what his metric is, but August doesn’t make sense. “Um. Are you… are you sure?” 

He doesn’t get mad like you thought he might. He just laughs. “Course, I’m sure, baby. It was the night we came home from your folks’. When you agreed to be mine.”

Your face heats. “I’m sorry—”

“Y’ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry about, baby. I didn’t expect ya to remember. But you’ve been mine for two years now, and you’re still worried I ain’t gonna keep you. But I’ve been thinkin’, and I know how to prove it to you.” 

If this doesn’t convince you, he thinks, nothing will. Never mind that his whole goddamn life revolves around you. Never mind that you’ve worn his collar for the last 731 fuckin’ days. 

You’re busy wondering why he made you suck another man’s cock today if he cares about your anniversary. But then again, you’ve long accepted that what he wants won’t always make sense. It’s not your job to make it make sense. It’s just your job to do it. 

“C’mon, let’s go downstairs,” he says. 

You swallow hard around the sudden fear, and he laughs. 

“What? Had enough yesterday?”

“No, sir,” you say. It’s mostly the truth. Mostly. 

He shakes his head. “Not today. C’mon.”

Now that he moves, you follow. 

Tommy’s already in the basement, which almost gives you pause, if only because his movement startles you. 

Joel has you hop up on the padded table instead of the metal one, typically a sign that either you’re going to be here for a well-extended time or that he’s going to fuck you on it. 

Tommy’s setting things you don’t recognize out on the little cart, but you don’t try very hard to look. Looking makes your breathing get a little ragged, so you look at Joel instead. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, bending slightly to give you a kiss before he begins to slowly circle the table, fastening straps over your body. 

He’s left the dress on, which is weird, too, but you’re not complaining. It’s always a little chilly down here and even though you know you shouldn’t, you’re glad he’s not made you bare yourself completely in front of Tommy. 

It’s a lot of straps. You watch curiously, if not a little dazed, as he secures your ankles, thighs, stomach, chest both above and below your breasts, arms in three places, neck, and head. 

The one around your neck clips to your collar, not adding another band or choking you. But you’re unable to lift your head and neck at all. 

When he’s done with the strap across your forehead, he smooths away the worry lines that crease beneath it. 

“Just need ya to hold real still. You’re probably going to like this, but don’t fuckin’ come.”

“Yes, sir.” Your eyes are wide and worshipful as you wait for further commands. 

“Be real good for Tommy, okay?”

Your heart pounds in your throat, but you promise immediately. 

He hops up to sit on the spanking bench nearby. 

“Where first?” Tommy says. 

“Hip,” Joel says, settling in to watch. 

Tommy goes about his business and pulls the bottom halves of the table apart, wrenching your legs open slowly. He spreads them wide and slides a stool over, situating himself right up by your cunt, and flips the hem of your dress up over your belly button. 

You whimper and try to look at Joel for any indication of how you’re supposed to behave, but the restraints don’t allow enough wiggle room. 

Something cold smears across the front of your left hip, and, much to Joel’s surprise, you break. You’re still raw in more than one way from the previous day. 

“Please, sir,” you blurt, lip trembling and eyes squeezed tight. 

He hops down, brow furrowed, and comes closer, raising a hand to Tommy to pause him. 

He cups your face. “Please, what, baby?” His other hand rubs up and down your side. 

You force your eyes open to look at him, blurred through waiting tears. 

“Please, can I have a gag?” you say. Your eyes are scrunched, and fists clenched. 

He strokes his hand over your cheek. “‘Course you can. Good girl.”

The praise keeps you calm while he steps away. When he comes back, you open your mouth wide, and he settles it between your lips. 

You nearly cry in relief when you feel the little bulb press inside, not much different than the head of his cock. A few tears spill over when he leans down to kiss your forehead. 

“Atta girl, he says, pinching your chin before returning to his perch. 

The warmth of his touch lingers, and you let the pressure of the gag distract you from where Tommy starts to move again. You suck on it steadily, eyes fluttering shut when you feel the unmistakable scrape of a blade across your hip. 

Shaving. He’s shaving you. You can’t fathom why, with only peach fuzz reaching there. And you think maybe it’d be a cold day in hell before Joel let anyone shave your pubic hair. He liked it kept trimmed but not too neat. 

“I’m from the seventies, baby. Women’re supposed to have a nice healthy bush,” he had told you fairly early on when you were just dating. He hadn’t told you to stop shaving and waxing, but of course, you had. 

Warm water washes over the area with a washcloth not far behind. Tommy’s firm hand does a final sweep with something cold. 

“Alright, honey,” Tommy says, his voice almost seeming fond , “just hold still and be a good girl, okay?” 

As if you’d do anything else. 

You startle a little at the loud buzz that kicks up, and Tommy rubs gloves fingers over the opposite hip for just a moment. 

And then he gets to work. It hurts . But the pain clues you into what’s going on, and you come to the only logical conclusion: Joel’s having you tattooed. 

You start to cry, the feeling of being loved and owned overwhelming. You don’t hear Joel’s chuckle, buried as it gets under the gun in Tommy’s hands. 

You thought it was overly cautious of him earlier, to worry about you having an orgasm during anything involving Tommy. But you get it now. The pain itself is bearable, almost delicious, but the rush of euphoria in your veins from the mere concept is intoxicating. 

It goes on and on. Maybe it’s only half an hour. Maybe it’s four. The pain cycles, fading to a soothing heat before building back up to a scald. 

You don’t realize it’s over right away. The buzz of the gun plays on in your brain even when the room falls quiet. And Tommy’s doing something to it, probably wiping it down, but your skin still rages. 

Joel hops down and comes over to the side of your left leg. “Shit, that’s fuckin’ gorgeous,” he says to his brother. 

“Looks damn good. Hey, she’s got a real pretty pussy, huh?” He says, elbowing Joel. “S’funny, watchin’ her leak all over.”

Joel peers over, running a finger over your cunt, and laughs. “Knew you’d like that,” he says.

You whimper. 

He pulls out his phone and snaps a photo. “Want to see, baby?” He asks though he’s already turning the screen to you. 

The skin is red and irritated, but the ink takes your breath away. In shiny black, right there on your hip, sits a blocky “JM” surrounded by a circle. It looks like a fucking brand. 

Your eyes fly to his, whining desperately and praying he understands. A sly grin spreads across his face, and the tip of his middle finger traces oh so gently up your slit. 

“Come for me, baby,” he says, not bothering to touch you further. He knows you won’t need it. 

Vision blacking out, you writhe uselessly against the restraints as the pleasure batters through you. You’re only vaguely aware that the loud keening sound is coming from you, but it’ll register later when you feel the raw ache in your throat. 

Tommy whistles. “Sorry I doubted you, princess.”

You whine through the aftershocks, tears welling up again at the thought of the tattoo. You hope Tommy would leave so Joel will fuck you. 

Then you remember him asking, “Where first?” just as Tommy drags his stool around to the right side of your torso. 

Joel comes with him, rolling up his sleeves and tinkering with something on the cart. They both touch your arm a lot, fingers roving and adjusting you. You start to tune it out until Tommy lathers a spot on the inside of your wrist. 

Once it’s been shaved and cleaned, someone presses something against the spot for a moment. 

“Well?” Joel says. 

“Lines look clear to me,” Tommy says. He’s leaning close to your arm. 

Joel doesn’t walk away this time. As the gun kicks back to life, he stays with his hand resting on your upper arm, looming over Tommy’s shoulder. 

It’s easier this time, now that you know what to expect. It hurts, but you’ve had worse and probably will again. You’re feeling a bit too dizzy, though, when it finally stops. 

“This one’s for you to see,” Joel says, starting to unlatch the straps. He frees your arm first and then your head and neck, plus the gag. The ache makes itself known as soon as you shift a little. 

You peer immediately at your wrist, and a strange clenching tears through your chest. A few inches below your palm lays the dark outline of Joel’s thumbprint. 

“Oh,” you whisper, a strange tingling spreading through your limbs. “Oh.” 

“Knew you’d like it,” he says, lips curling into a smug smirk. 

Once you’re untethered, he peels your dress off so the fabric won’t brush against your hip. 

“There’s a protein bar and a bottle of water on the coffee table,” Joel says. “Go eat and wait by my chair.”

You’re swaying a little but he helps you down and makes sure you can stay on your feet before he removes his hands from your waist. 

You make your way upstairs in a daze. Truthfully, you don’t really remember it. When they come upstairs, you’re knelt in your place, wrapper and empty bottle on the table. 

“Good girl,” Joel says, lowering himself with a little groan into his recliner. He shifts around and pulls his cock out. “C’mere.”

You hop up immediately, and he takes you by the waist to help you settle where he’s fully hard already.

“Don’t move,” he says, to your great disappointment. “None of that,” he scolds at your pout. “It’s my turn. Just relax.”

Tommy sets the gun and equipment up to the side of the chair. You settle against Joel’s chest, snuggling in and resting your head on his shoulder so you can watch. 

Joel’s other hand, the one not waiting in place, comes up to cup the back of your head. He bends his head down to kiss where he can reach. “You’re being so good. Just a little bit more, and then you can take this cock.”

“Do not come on her tattoo, Joel,” Tommy says. 

Joel laughs, but Tommy smacks his arm. “I’m serious. It’ll fuck it up and probably infect it. Don’t fuckin’ do it.”

“I’ll wait ‘till it’s healed, don’t worry.”

You moan and clench around him at the idea, which only encourages his pleased chuckling. 

Tommy takes your hand, peeling it from where it rested against Joel’s chest, idly brushing through the hair there. You let him, letting it go limp and unresistant.

He presses your thumb against an ink pad and pushes it down on a piece of paper, rolling it carefully. He repeats the process a few times before he’s satisfied. Wiping it clean, he coats it one more time before pressing it against Joel’s wrist.  

You stare, rapt, as he traces the lines of your fingerprint onto Joel’s thick arm, framed by dark hair. It sits in parallel to the watch on his other wrist. 

“Where d’you want these?” Tommy says after he’s wrapped up and started to pack away the equipment. He’s holding the papers where they tested your print.

“The safes. One in each office,” Joel says. 

It’s weird, certainly, but so is Joel, so you don’t give it much thought. 

He’s cradling your face in his palm, looking at you with something so tender and ferocious that you can’t possibly look away. He thrusts up into you, his other hand tight on the hip opposite the tattoo.

It hurts, but, well, you don’t mind. 

The way he fucks you open now is slow, cruel after making you sit still for so long, but he’s savoring it. Savoring the way you can’t help but stare at him in worshipful bliss. It’s like a drug, the way his attention makes you hazy. He’s got you hooked, addicted, right where he wants you. His. 

Not a damn part of you that isn’t. 

The smirk curls across his face, and his hand curls around your neck, abandoning the gentle caress for something you both understand as love. You come on his cock when he tells you, every time he tells you, as he leaves you gasping and clutching his forearm, not prying him away but holding on as the room spins. 

When he fills you, he kisses you deeply, hand back around your throat as his mouth takes the rest of your air. You collapse against his chest when he lets go, and he holds you there with a smug, satiated smile and a soft kiss to the top of your head.

You doze in and out in his lap as he and Tommy share a bottle of bourbon. 

“Damn, I shoulda brought Daisy over. You haven’t had someone for her to play with in a while,” you hear Tommy say through the fog of your brain.

“Yeah, we’ll see,” Joel says. His hand is scratching at your scalp and it feels so good you almost forget Tommy is talking.

“... my wife and your little pet—” he’s saying.

You don’t mean to open your eyes, but you catch his as soon as you do. He laughs. “Yeah, I got a wife. I’m not as mean as my brother, here.” 

You find that hard to believe, but also, you don’t really think of Joel as mean. He’s strict, sure, and he has high expectations. But he takes such good care of you, and you want for nothing. 

The phrase stirs something odd in your head. Do you want for nothing? Well, it’s at least partially true. You don’t want anything, not a thing you have or don’t have. You’re happy with whatever Joel gives. 

It’s probably the same thing. Besides, you wanted that career; you wanted to put on a face, a mask, and pretend to be someone who gave a shit about the company’s reputation. And you were wrong, so wrong. And Joel’s always been right. So what do you know about what you want?

Joel’s rumbling voice startles you a little where you’re tucked against his chest. “She was one ‘a mine, y’know,” he says to you. 

Tommy’s wearing a sly grin. “Yeah, until you scared the shit out of her,” he says, laughing. “Poor little thing didn’t know what to do with herself.” 

“She wasn’t like you,” Joel says. He waits as if he expects a reaction, but you don’t stir from your safe place in his arms. 

“Nah, not everyone’s as fucked up as y’all,” Tommy says. “I ain’t a sadist,” he says to you, a glint in his eye. “Don’t get me wrong, I do love puttin’ her in her place, but mostly, I just like havin’ my pretty little wife at home.” 

Joel’s watching you; you can feel the heft of his gaze. But you’re so blissed out, so calm right here in his lap, dripping his seed slowly around where his cock still fills you. 

“Would that bother you? Playin’ with a girl who used to be Joel’s?” Tommy goads.

You think about it for a moment. “She ever get his mark?”

Tommy grins, teeth like a shark. “Nope.”

You hum, unbothered, and nuzzle your cheek against Joel.

“Attagirl,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your head. “Knew you’d learn this time.” 

You gaze at his thumbprint on your arm. The cells around it will grow and die, but not his claim on you. 

It’s almost comforting, you think, that by the time that fades, there’ll be nothing left of you anyway. 

bonus: the art of breaking playlist

thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who asked for a part two and expressed love for the first. I will admit I am INCREDIBLY nervous to publish this both because it's kind of fucked up but also because so many of you loved the first part and I'm scared this won't live up to your expectations.

please, if you enjoyed this, let me know! soothe my anxiety lol. and if you don't want to publically do so, anon is always on.

i love you!

[a-court-of-fics-and-errors]

Keep Moving Forwards, Part 36

SMUT WARNING AHEAD - Do not continue under the line unless you are over 18.

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 5.2K

Author's Note: This is a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

The world outside grew dark long before you and Azriel even considered leaving the dining room. You both lounged back, continuing to pick various stragglers of food off plates, savoring the remnants of your meal. Azriel, in a particularly responsible moment, insisted you drink water along with the wine you were enthusiastically downing. You scolded him for being an old codger, but followed his instructions, managing to stay delightfully tipsy without crossing into outright drunkenness. To your amusement, the House had decided to add a bit of mood music to the evening, lilting violins, pianos, and flutes drifting in through the dining room doors, as though a small orchestra had gathered a few rooms down. You rolled your eyes at it all, but appreciated how hard the House seemed to be trying to involve itself in your evening.

Azriel’s guard had clearly dropped. His wings were relaxed, almost draping onto the floor. His feet crossed at the ankles, extended fully in front of him. His curls fell lazily over his forehead, left unattended. At some point, he noted with a relaxed sigh that while he was enjoying the evening, the chair was starting to cramp his wings. You teased him about his ancient age and possible arthritis before the two of you stood from the table. The plates magically cleared themselves as you made your way to the sunken living room, where a fire roared invitingly, and the music followed you, almost like the House was a small child, peeking around doorways at the two of you, giggling as it watched.

Azriel nearly flopped onto the couch, his wings spreading lazily onto the floor. You settled on a cushion on the floor in front of him, propped against the adjoining chaise. He extended a scarred hand to you, tracing the backs of your fingers with his thumb absentmindedly, his touch sending a warm tingle up your arm.

As he recounted stories of his childhood with Rhysand and Cassian, you concluded that Cassian had always been a bit of a wrecking ball, while Rhysand, despite his occasional complaints, often orchestrated their antics. Azriel, it seemed, was the quieter one, often cleaning up the chaos left by his brothers but never left behind, always dragged into their mischief. You shared your own fragmented childhood memories, laughing as Azriel noted with a smirk, “You were quite the tyrant.”

You brushed tears of laughter from your eyes, recalling a particularly rebellious moment when you made another child at the pleasure house walk around on his hands and knees, meowing like a cat, because Titania wouldn’t let you keep a flea-ridden tomcat as a pet. “He agreed to it!” you countered, leaning back, having doubled over in raucous laughter.

Azriel’s eyes twinkled as he laughed. “I don’t think he had much of a choice.”

Your laughter subsided as you glanced at the clock, which rudely announced that it was close to three in the morning. You flicked your eyes to Azriel, who seemed unfazed by the late hour, only smiling at you. “You should get to bed,” you said, clearing your throat.

Azriel shrugged, making no move to rise. “I have nowhere to be.”

You stood, brushing off the cushions strewn around you, hand outstretched to him. “Well, I need to go to bed.”

“Tired?” he asked, taking your hand but making no motion to get up.

“Of you,” you teased, feigning annoyance.

Azriel smiled coyly, a playful glint in his eyes. “Am I that hard to be around?” His eyes glimmered with mischief, almost catlike. You leaned back, trying to pull him from his relaxed position, grunting with effort.

You strained as you leaned back farther, “I suffer you every day.”

“Seems rather odd that we both claim to suffer in each other’s company and yet can’t seem to get rid of each other,” he remarked, his tone teasing. Despite all your yanking and tugging, he remained unmoved, his arm merely bobbing slightly. Then, with almost no effort, he yanked back, and you stumbled forward, crashing into his chest. Your knees hit the floor as you collided with him, and he scooped up your hips, positioning you to lie on top of him, chest to chest, legs entangled.

“Perhaps I’m a glutton for punishment,” he whispered, his lips just inches from yours.

Your breath hitched, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw. “Well, you’re certainly persistent,” you murmured back, your voice a playful challenge.

His eyes sparkled with amusement, his thumb drawing a lazy line along your jawline. “Only when it comes to things I really want,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.

Your heart raced as you leaned in, your lips brushing his. “Good to know,” you replied, your voice teasingly light as you kissed him, the warmth of the fire casting a soft glow around you both.

Azriel’s arms tightened around you, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, a quiet laugh escaping him. “You’re impossible,” he murmured against your lips, his voice full of affection.

You smiled against his mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair. “And you love it,” you whispered back, your words a breathless mix of flirtation and certainty.

Azriel's lips ravaged yours, devouring you with a primal hunger that sent sparks of electricity coursing through your veins. His hands gripped your hips possessively, as if he couldn't get close enough to you and needed to consume every inch of your body. The friction between your bodies ignited a fire that burned through every nerve ending, driving you both to the brink of madness.

You kissed him back with a ferocity that matched the pounding of your heart, not wanting to waste another second without feeling his touch. Your mouths moved in a dance of desperate need, tasting the intoxicating mix of wine and desire on each other's lips. Azriel's calloused hands roamed under your shirt, leaving trails of heat wherever they touched your skin. Your own fingers tangled in his soft curls, pulling him closer as you explored every inch of his face with your touch.

Beneath your fingertips, you could feel the hardened lines of Azriel's jaw. With each passing moment, the intensity between you grew, until it was all-consuming, blurring out the rest of the world. You could feel his heart racing against yours, mirroring your own frantic beat as you devoured each other.

As the sensations threatened to overwhelm you both, you pulled back slightly, panting for breath as you gazed down at him with darkened eyes. Azriel looked back at you with a dazed expression, as if he were drunk on your touch alone. Your chest heaved with exertion as you straddled him, taking control in this passionate exchange.

Reaching up to trace your swollen bottom lip with his thumb, Azriel silently questioned your desires. And in that moment, all you wanted was to rip off his clothes and see what secrets lay hidden beneath his hardened façade. But for now, in this heated embrace, nothing else mattered except for the overwhelming need to consume each other completely.

Your hands traced a path down the hard expanse of his shirt, fingers trembling with desire to rip it from his body and expose him fully to your hungry gaze. Azriel's body reacted to your touch, arching and shuddering as you worked to untie his shirt, your eagerness causing fumbling clumsiness as your focus was solely on reaching your goal. His chuckle only fueled your fervor as his own hands joined yours in freeing him from the confines of fabric. The shirt fell away, revealing the familiar landscape of muscles that you had explored countless times before, but now with an urgency and burning heat that heightened your senses. Your palms pressed firmly against his chest, nails digging into the taut flesh as you trailed kisses down his jawline and throat, feeling the hitch in his breath at each touch. Your fingers hungrily moved lower, tracing every contour of his collarbone until you reached the sweet spot where teeth could sink in and elicit a moan that sent electricity through both of your bodies. Azriel's hands found their way back to your hips, gripping tightly as if anchoring himself to reality amidst the overwhelming pleasure. As you continued to map out every inch of him with kisses, he returned the favor by exploring every inch of exposed skin on your back with feather-light touches that sent shivers down your spine. You couldn't resist trailing your tongue down his chest, savoring the taste of him while he writhed beneath you, his grip tightening on you with each passing second. Your lips left a trail of fire all over his abdomen, unable to get enough of the exquisite muscles that begged for your attention. And with each delicate kiss, Azriel's moans grew louder and more desperate, driving you both towards a state of pure ecstasy.

As your lips continued their carnal exploration, you could feel the overwhelming desire emanating from his body, begging for release. His muscles were taut with anticipation, barely able to contain the fervent hunger that consumed him. And as you traced your tongue along the sensitive skin just above his waist, Azriel's breath hitched in his throat and his hips lifted.

The way his body trembled beneath yours, aching for release, made your own desires roar to life. But as you traced your tongue along his skin, tasting the saltiness of his sweat and his intoxicating scent. 

With each touch of your tongue against his skin, his body tensed with anticipation. And when he whispered those words - "Wait" - a wave of conflicting emotions rushed through you. You pulled back slightly, gazing up at him with furrowed brows. 

"What?" you asked, trying to mask the uncertainty in your voice.

Azriel beckoned for you to come closer, his hands gripping your hips as you shifted onto his lap. Your eyes searched his face, searching for any sign of hesitation or doubt. "I just want to make sure this is what you really want," he said softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

Your own hands came up to push the hair behind your ears, your mind struggling to process his words. "What do you mean?" you asked, feeling a knot form in your stomach.

He shrugged and nervously chewed on his bottom lip. "I don't want you to do this because you think it's what I want," he explained. "You've spent so long not being able to say no that I don't want you to feel like you have to say yes." Azriel's hands gripped your hips tightly as he beckoned you closer. And as you straddled him, feeling the heat of his body against yours, he spoke in a soft tone that only made your heart race faster. "I need to make sure this is what you want," he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face with gentle fingers.

Your stomach twisted in knots as you tried to process his words, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of your hand. You wanted this, craved it even. To feel him so close, to hold him and be held by him. But there was a nagging doubt in the back of your mind, reminding you of all the times you had rushed into things and ended up hurt. You couldn't ignore the fear that lingered at the edges of your desire. Was this moving too fast? Were you just trying to prove something to yourself and others? And then there was Kai, who you waited for and lost before you could have this. Were you using Azriel as a substitute? Would he get angry if you said no? The thought of his mate's words echoing through Azriel's lips, enraged and screaming obscenities at you for leading him on made your skin crawl. But then again, he didn't seem like the type to fly off the handle. Hadn't he just been lost in your touch moments ago? Or were you using your body as a bargaining tool, hoping it would keep him interested in being with you? These thoughts swirled around in your head, clouding your judgment as Azriel watched silently, his hazel eyes tracing your face as he smiled lightly. You bit your lip, halting the natural movements of your body and the desire that consumed you. 

Your voice trembles as you whisper, "I don't know." You drop your gaze to your hands, anticipating Azriel's anger as he pulls away from you. But instead, he takes your hand and brings it to his lips, kissing each fingertip with a tender reverence.

"It's okay to say no," he says, meeting your gaze and placing your hand on his chest. "You can say no now, you can say no later."

You nod lightly, feeling the heat burning in your core as you imagine all the things you want to do with him. He presses his finger to your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his. "I only want to go as far as you're comfortable," he reminds you.

The fire inside of you rages harder, begging for release. "I want to try," you finally say, your eyes frantically scanning over his face.

Azriel smiles softly, not giving into his own desires, but instead holding back with gentle control. His hands press into the sides of your face as he leans in to kiss your forehead lightly. "Remember," he whispers against your skin, "one word and everything stops." He kisses your forehead again before continuing, "And I won't be upset, I won't be angry. I'll only leave if that's what you want."

You lean back into him, your hands wrapping around his neck as his dark eyes bore into yours. “I trust you,” you whispered, and with a fiery intensity that can't be ignored any longer, you bring your mouth down on his in a desperate kiss. His passion matches yours as he devours your lips with equal fervor.

As the intensity between you grew, Azriel shed his shirt and revealed the toned muscles of his body. You were lost in the heat of his touch, barely aware of how his shirt had slipped off past his wings. His bare skin pressed against yours, igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume you both.

His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses and nibbles. Your hands tangled in his hair, urging him on as he explored every inch of your skin with fervent hunger. He was like an animal unleashed with no hesitation in his hands.

As Azriel's hands slid under your shirt once again, teasing and pawing at your flesh, you felt yourself growing more and more lost in him. When he looked up at you for approval before removing your shirt, you eagerly complied. The cold air hit your skin, causing goosebumps to form but Azriel's heated gaze kept you warm.

"You are divine," he murmured hungrily as he took in the sight of your exposed body. You leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his chest against yours as he pulled you closer. Each touch ignited sparks between you, like two pieces of a puzzle finally coming together.

In that moment, everything felt right. Your bodies moved together in perfect rhythm, driven by the beat of your hearts and the intense desire that consumed you both. This was pure ecstasy, being connected with Azriel in every way possible.

You wrapped your legs tightly around his muscular hips, pulling him closer as you tugged at his tousled curls. Azriel's lips left a trail of heat and desire down your neck and over your collarbone, occasionally nipping at your skin with a hint of teeth. Your moans grew louder as he ran his skilled fingers down your spine, eliciting shivers of pleasure. The world seemed to spin in a dizzy blur as Azriel's dark presence enveloped you, and when you opened your heavy-lidded eyes, you found yourself back in your room. Azriel held you in his powerful embrace, his hands gripping your thighs possessively as he continued to explore every inch of your exposed skin with his lips. "You're a show-off, you know that?" you whispered breathlessly, chuckling lightly.

Azriel let out a deep rumbling growl as he stalked towards the bed. "It's faster this way," he admitted with a sly grin.

With one hand gripping your thigh and the other tangling in your hair, he effortlessly lifted you onto the soft sheets and pillows. You could feel his fiery gaze trailing over your exposed body, making you shiver with anticipation. He traced his fingertips down your curves, sending electric tingles through your skin. As he reached your breasts, he leaned in to capture one of your nipples between his teeth, causing you to arch into his mouth.

But then he pulled back, his eyes blazing with desire as he gazed at you like a work of art. "You are the most stunning creature I have ever laid eyes on," he murmured, his hand teasingly playing with the waistband of your pants. Slowly, almost torturously, he peeled off each layer of fabric that separated him from your bare flesh, leaving a trail of hot kisses in their wake.

As his lips brushed over the sensitive skin of your stomach, you couldn't help but moan and writhe under his touch. But when his hands came across the scars on your hips, you froze, feeling exposed and self-conscious. Azriel immediately noticed and paused, looking up at you with concern. "Are you okay?" he asked softly.

Your heart fluttered at the genuine worry in his voice and you nodded, biting your lip. He gently moved your hands away from covering the scars before placing tender kisses on them. Your body trembled at the sensation of his lips on such delicate marks, and he whispered against your skin, "I want to taste and know every inch of you… every story that your skin holds, I want it to tell me everything.

A soft moan escaped your lips as you lifted your hips, allowing him to slowly remove your clothing and expose more and more of your skin. His lips trailed over your most sensitive areas, igniting a spark of desire within you. He continued pulling down your pants, kissing his way down your thighs with gentle caresses and feather-light kisses. He paused at your knee, supporting your leg as he peppered it with soft kisses on the inside. Moving down to your calf, he finally freed you from the confines of your clothes. Surprisingly, he didn't immediately focus on the area that throbbed for his touch, instead taking his time to explore every inch of newly exposed skin with his lips and tongue. He even took the time to place sweet kisses on the tops of your feet before finally returning his attention to the spot that was aching for his touch. His hands roamed up and down your legs, causing you to buck slightly underneath him in anticipation. Your hands found their way above your head, grasping onto the blankets as he continued his tantalizingly slow movements. Every touch sent shivers of pleasure through your body, making you yearn for more.

He leaned back slightly, his firm grip on your knees pulling them apart and exposing you completely to him. You could feel his gaze on you, a primal growl rumbling from deep within him as he tapped his fingers lightly on your skin. Your mouth fell open in anticipation as you looked up at him, his eyes filled with hunger as they devoured every inch of your body. When he noticed the slight shift in your hips, his gaze returned to yours and the hunger faltered slightly as he bit into his lip. He nodded towards you, a silent reminder that you held all the power in this moment. In response, you nodded back, a small moan escaping your lips as he let his hands slide down your body, each scarred finger leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Your neck arched and your hips moved forward as he ran one finger lightly down your folds, eliciting a gasping breath from you. He responded with a light laugh filled with pleasure and longing. With expert precision, he trailed his finger up and down your length, pausing just at the peak to apply a little more pressure that made your eyes roll back in ecstasy. Using his thumb, he drew firm yet gentle circles around your most sensitive spot, while his other fingers positioned themselves at your entrance. Your hips bucked in anticipation and a soft hiss escaped from between your teeth as he pressed into you ever so slightly. 

"Please," you whispered, your voice barely above a hushed murmur. Azriel's eyes locked with yours, and in that moment, you knew it was a request he couldn't deny.

His fingers slowly pushed inside you, eliciting a gasp that escaped your lips. You felt your body clench around him, the familiar urge to become one with him consuming you. He paused, allowing you to adjust to his touch, his eyes locked on the passion in yours.

As your body adjusted, he began to move his fingers, finding a rhythm that sent shivers down your spine. Your hips rocked against him, matching the pace of his fingers as you both moved in harmony. The intensity grew, your moans becoming louder, filling the room with your desire.

It wasn't long before you felt the familiar ache building deep within you. Azriel's eyes locked with yours once more, his touch growing more feverish, almost desperate. 

You grip the sheets tightly, your body writhing uncontrollably beneath his touch. His thumb relentlessly circles your sensitive spot, driving you closer to the edge with every stroke. A loud moan escapes your lips, almost a scream that echoes through the room. But as you let out this primal sound, Azriel presses his body against yours, his chest radiating warmth and desire as he claims your mouth in a fierce kiss. He continues to move his hand between your legs, pushing you further into madness as he brings you to the brink of ecstasy. Your moans blend together as you feel yourself tightening and releasing with every movement, including around him. Azriel's name tumbles from your lips like a mantra, and he responds by whispering your name back, each syllable igniting a new wave of pleasure. You're still gasping for air when Azriel pulls away, his eyes searching yours for any signs of distress.

"You okay?" he asks.

You can barely contain your laughter at his question, feeling completely exhilarated and alive as you run your hand down his face. "I'm more than okay," you reply, pulling him back down for another passionate kiss. Azriel chuckles against your lips.

"So much for suffering," he teases.

You wrap your legs around him, craving more of his touch as he removes his hand from between you and brings his glistening fingers to his lips, sucking on them with a look of pure pleasure on his face. Unable to resist, you lick your own lips and watch as his eyes flutter closed in delight.

As his heavy-lidded eyes flutter open, you slowly trail your tongue up and down the length of his fingers, now coated with a mixture of his saliva and your own arousal. Azriel watches intently, moaning softly at the sight of you peering up at him through your thick lashes. You take his index finger fully into your mouth, feeling it slide against the roof of your mouth before pulling it back out teasingly slow.

"F-Fuck..." he breathes, his voice laced with need and desire. His hard length twitches against your stomach, straining against his tight clothing that still remains on his body.

Your hand finds its way between the two of you, gliding delicately along the length of his cock as he grunts in desperation. As you wrap your hand around his clothed member, he starts to thrust his hips forward in an attempt to find some relief. Your lips brush against his ear as you whisper seductively, "Too many clothes."

In an instant, Azriel is pulled back, frantically tugging at the ties of his pants until they fall to the ground, freeing his hardened and eager cock. You're taken aback by the sudden release and without thinking, you whisper to yourself, "Gods, Nesta was right."

Azriel pauses for a moment, furrowing his brows in confusion. "Definitely didn't expect you to say that," he pants lightly, his muscular chest rising and falling with every breath.

Realizing what you just said, your eyes widen in embarrassment. "Oh no," you stammer out, trying to explain yourself, "She just mentioned something about wingspan and-" you gesture towards Azriel's throbbing member.

Rolling his eyes playfully, Azriel leans back down towards you, one hand pressed firmly into the mattress beside your head as he gazes into your eyes, his other hand trailing through your hair. "You could have just asked," he teases, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine.

You feel his cock pressing against your stomach, an ache building inside of you. Your hand slides between the two of you and makes contact with him, causing Azriel's eyes to flutter closed as he lets out incoherent moans and murmurs. You bite down on your lip as you stroke him, feeling his length respond eagerly to your touch. His mouth falls open as he exhales breathy gasps, grinding his hips into your hand with the same rhythm as your strokes. The need for him consumes you, wanting to be completely intertwined with this male who feels like home.

Your other hand presses on his shoulder, guiding his hips to align with your dripping entrance. Azriel's eyes lock onto yours as you nod, giving him permission to enter you. Without hesitation, he slowly pushes inside, stretching you deliciously and leaving you moaning in pleasure mixed with slight pain. He watches you intently, waiting for any sign that he should stop or continue. But all you can do is whisper for him to keep going, desperate for the sensation of being filled by him. As he bottoms out inside of you, every inch connected and deeply intertwined, you wrap your legs around his hips.

Azriel leans in close, placing soft kisses on your nose, cheeks, and lips as he begins to move within you. His thrusts are short and slow at first, as if trying to savor every moment. But soon the pace quickens, each movement sending tiny sparks of electricity up your spine. Your body responds eagerly to his touch, shifting and moving with each jolt. You dig your nails into his shoulders as he whispers praises in your ear - "Such a good girl," "Just hold onto me." With each thrust, you feel yourself losing control and surrendering completely to the powerful pleasure he gives you. 

The room is filled with the intoxicating sound of skin on skin and the sinfully sweet moans drifting from both of your lips. Azriel's thrusts become more urgent and precise as he brings his hand between your bodies, tracing those tantalizing circles that ignite a fire within you.

You open your eyes to see Azriel gazing down at you, his brow glistening with sweat, curls tousled against his forehead, eyes blazing with pleasure and delight as he continues to elicit moan after moan from you. His hips falter slightly, and a whine of disappointment escapes your lips. But before you can protest, Azriel's hand leaves your heat to prop himself up and the other slides under your shoulders. With effortless strength, he flips the two of you over so that you are sitting in his lap, legs bent on either side of him, still connected intimately. His back presses against the headboard, wings stretched out behind him as he gazes at you with pure adoration.

Both hands cupping the sides of your face, Azriel whispers, "I just want to look at you."

A smile spreads across your face, intoxicated by his touch.

"You're so unbelievably beautiful." He remarks huskily.

Your eyes flutter open as you reply breathlessly, unable to find words while his cock is deep within you, bringing you closer to ecstasy with each thrust.

Azriel's hips move beneath yours as you rise up onto your knees. His hands find their way to your hips, steadying you as he drives into you deeper and harder. His mouth trails kisses and gentle nips along your throat and chest, eliciting shivers from your body as your head falls back in blissful surrender. One hand ventures back to your sensitive core, teasing and coaxing pleasure from it with devilish strokes.

As you feel yourself tightening around him once again, Azriel's rhythm becomes erratic and desperate. His other hand cups your face, his voice low and commanding, "Look at me, Y/N."

Summoning all your strength, you pry your heavy eyelids open and lock gazes with Azriel, lost in the intense desire that radiates from him. A moan unlike any you've heard before escapes his lips as he releases into you, pushing you over the edge into a mind-blowing climax. But even as you quiver and tremble in euphoria, he continues to thrust into you until you release one final time, collapsing against his shoulder with heavy breaths and a feeling of pure satisfaction.

Azriel's gentle breaths rise and fall against your chest as he caresses your hair, pressing soft kisses onto your face. "Hey," he whispers, pulling back to look at you with a loving gaze. You meet his gaze with droopy eyes, still lost in the blissful aftermath of your passionate encounter. "Hi," he whispers back, a sweet smile gracing his features as he brushes a strand of hair from your face.

"You doing okay?" He asks, concern and care evident in his voice. You nod in response, unable to form words just yet. "Come here," he murmurs, guiding you to sit next to him. You wrap your arms around his toned body as he envelopes you in his strong embrace, placing another tender kiss on top of your head and trailing comforting fingers up and down your arm.

Azriel lets out a small chuckle and you raise an eyebrow at him. "What's so funny?" You ask.

He looks down at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes, "That was even better than all the times I imagined it."

You roll your eyes playfully, "Well, glad I could exceed expectations."

"You surpassed them by far," he replies as you lean up to capture his lips in another kiss. “Truly, blew them out of the water.” He continues as you smile into your kiss. "Speaking of water," he murmurs against your mouth, "Let's get you some, and maybe a snack," he playfully sniffs your skin, "And definitely a shower."

You lean back slightly, rolling your eyes. “I guess I’m back to suffering you.” You give him a light push which only results in him pulling you into a tighter embrace. 

“If this is suffering, then lock me up and throw away the key.” He whispers into your ear.

“If that’s the case, then I’ll have to show you what true torture with me feels like,” you reply with a laugh, letting yourself fall completely limp into his embrace.

To my readers, I told you I was hot and bothered. My return to my smut ridden, disgustingly overly explained mind is now free. We will be returning to our regularly scheduled programming:

@thatacotargirl @mcuamerica @lilah-asteria @florabelll @fightmedraco @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @quinzzelx @romantasyreader28 @minnieoo @annabethgranger123 @krowiathemythologynerd @scatteredstardustt @caroline-books @sevikas-whore @sidthedollface2 @sleepylunarwolf @acourtofbatboydreams @quiettuba @julesofvolterra @skylarkalchemist @darling006 @loglady00 @caninnes @weepingwerewolf @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf

[multi-fandoms-posts]

Twin Trouble

Cherik x reader

X Men Masterlist

Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr are sitting together in the living room of their cozy villa. Today, they have taken on the task of looking after their twins, William and Henry, so that Y/N, their wife and the boys’ mother, can enjoy a well-deserved break. The twins, energetic three-year-olds, have the same fire in their hearts as their fathers. William has inherited his father Erik’s ability and can already use it a little. Charles senses a spark of telepathy in his son Henry, but Henry cannot yet fully utilize this ability.

“How hard can it be?” Erik asks, leaning back casually. “We’ve saved the world from destruction. Two little boys won’t bring us to our knees,” he says confidently.

Charles smiles and nods, though he secretly suspects it won’t be that easy. “They’re only three years old, Erik. What could possibly go wrong?” says Charles, but no sooner are the words out of his mouth than William and Henry are already running around the sofas, chasing each other and screaming with excitement. William is holding a toy car, which he’s flying through the air, while Henry giggles loudly and tries to grab the car from his brother.

“Dad, look at this!” William shouts proudly, crashing the car onto the coffee table. It’s just a small, harmless toy, but Erik flinches slightly as if he had felt the impact himself.

“Careful, William,” Erik says, trying to remain calm. “We don’t throw things.”

“But Dad, I’m just like you! I can make everything fly!” William beams and sends the car soaring through the air again before it crashes into a lamp, which wobbles precariously.

“William!” Charles warns this time, extending a calming hand. “Erik, we need to set some boundaries for them.”

Erik sighs deeply. “Yes, yes. I’ll handle it. William, come here.” He takes the car from his son and sits him on his lap. “We can make the car fly later together. But we don’t want to wake Mom, do we?” Erik asks.

Meanwhile, Henry has quietly sneaked out of his fathers’ sight and begun climbing onto a chair to reach the cookies on the kitchen counter. Charles notices just in time and quickly goes over to him.

“Henry, my dear, why don’t you just ask for the cookies?” Charles gently lifts his son off the chair. “You don’t have to do everything by yourself.”

“But Dad, I’m hungry!” Henry replies, looking at his father with big eyes.

“I know, sweetheart. Here, have a cookie, but we need to be patient too, okay?”

But before Charles can hand him the cookie, a loud crash comes from the living room. He hurries back to find William, who has now turned the rug in the middle of the room upside down and is crawling underneath it, while Erik desperately tries to contain the chaos.

“William, stop that! Oh, Charles, what were we thinking?” Erik runs a hand through his hair, visibly overwhelmed. William laughs, undeterred, and calls from his hiding place, “Dad, come play!”

“This won’t do,” Charles murmurs, trying to regain control. “Boys, let’s play a game that doesn’t make such a mess,” Charles calls out.

“But Dad, this is fun!” Henry protests, tugging on his father while William reappears and tips over a toy box, scattering its contents in all directions.

“Erik, we need to distract them somehow,” Charles says in desperation as Henry starts building a fortress with the toy blocks. “They need a quieter activity.”

“How about a book?” Erik suggests, though he doubts it will be the solution.

But before they can even try this idea, everything spirals out of control. William and Henry have now decided that the entire living room is their castle. Charles tries to calm the situation with his telepathic powers, but the twins are simply too wound up.

“I think we’ve overestimated ourselves,” Erik finally admits, as Henry suddenly starts crying because his fortress has collapsed, and William loudly accuses him of doing it on purpose.

“Mama! I want Mama!” Henry cries through his tears, while William joins his brother in demanding their mother.

Charles and Erik exchange helpless looks. “Maybe… maybe we should really take them to Y/N,” Charles finally suggests. “It seems only she can tame their chaos.”

Erik reluctantly nods. “You’re right. Let’s get Y/N.”

As they bring the children into their bedroom, Y/N is lying relaxed on the bed, but the twins’ loud crying has already woken her up. She smiles wearily when she sees her two sons, who immediately throw themselves into her arms.

“What’s wrong, my loves?” she asks gently, stroking their hair soothingly.

“Daddy and Daddy broke everything!” William complains, while Henry just sobs.

Y/N throws an amused glance at Charles and Erik. “Looks like you two had your hands full,” she grins slightly.

“That’s an understatement,” Erik murmurs, leaning against the door. “We thought we could give you a little rest, but…”

“They’re a handful,” adds Charles, sitting down beside Y/N and gently rubbing Henry’s back. “Maybe we’re just not as good at this as you are,” he sighs.

Y/N chuckles softly. “You did your best. But sometimes, they just need their mom.” Y/N says, giving William and Henry a kiss.

“Maybe next time… we should have a Plan B,” Erik suggests, and everyone laughs, even the twins, who have now calmed down and are content in their mother’s arms.

“Yes, that would be wise,” Charles agrees. “But until then… they’re better off with you,” Charles says, and Y/N laughs in response.

[nhularin]

1 STEP FORWARD, 3 STEPS BACK

PAIRING bf! jay x reader GENRE toxic! relationship, angst no comfort WARNINGS insecurities,there might be some grammar mistakes WC 0.9k series masterlist

December 12, 2001

"so, how was your day?"

you looked at him, your voice soft as you asked. you and your boyfriend sat in his car, the air thick with tension. but jays response was anything but kind. his eyes narrowed as he looked straight ahead of the road, his voice filled with bitterness. "fine" he spit out and silence fell upon you once again

no, it's back and forth, did I say something wrong?

the tone of his voice made you recoil, your heart sinking. it was a typical thursday night and you haven't seen each other outside of school in what felt like forever. you had only wanted to check up on him, to show him that you cared about his well being. but his words sliced through you like a dagger, leaving you feeling small and insignificant.

"thats great!" you tried to sound cheerful, but your voice betrayed you when those words came out quieter and wobblier than expected. you looked outside of the passenger seat's window, attempting to ignore the unbearable silence in the car. you could hear the joy and euphoria from passing cars and you couldn't help but feel jealousy radiating through you

All I did was speak normally, somehow I still struck a nerve

"why are you always so sensitive?" jay continued, his voice dripping with disdain. "you make everything about yourself. cant you see that I have my own problems to deal with?"

jay could feel your discomfort, he had to. hell, the passing cars could probably feel it "dont be like this" he said, sighing heavily "why do you always ask me that? you saw me at school. did you see me crying? no. so dont ask obvious shit when you already know the answer."

your eyes welled up with tears, voice trembling. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I just-" you paused, feeling your throat close up "we haven't hung out in a while and i just wanted to make sure that you were fine"

jay scoffed, his anger intensifying. "you think you can solve all my problems with a simple question? youre so naive. you don't understand anything. fine, coach Madson was a fucking asshole today but i knew you wouldn't understand. isnt a simple 'fine' enough? all you know is how to break out in song and dance with your theater friends"

im the love of your life until I make you mad

your heart shattered as his words echoed in your mind. you had hoped for a moment of connection, a chance to offer support. but instead, you found yourself facing his anger, his frustration, and his complete lack of empathy.

you longed for affection, for those sweet words of love to fall from his lips. but instead, you were met with a wall of unpredictability. one moment, he would hold your hand and make you feel like the most special person in the world. the next, he would push you away, leaving you wondering where you went wrong.

every little thing you did seemed to set him off, like a ticking time bomb ready to explode. his anger was swift and cutting, leaving you feeling small and insignificant. it was a rollercoaster of emotions, and you couldn't help but question if he truly loved you.

jays grip on the wheel tightened even further as you reached a familiar intersection. the red light seemed to mock your mess of a relationship, the halted traffic mirroring your damaged connection.

as the light turned green, he pressed down on the gas pedal, your heart pounding heavily in your chest. the car lurched forward, the engine roaring, but the noise was nothing compared to the deafening silence between you two. the streets blurred as you sped through the night.

in that moment, you realized that jay wasn't capable of providing the love and understanding you have craved. he was a storm of emotions and absolutely unpredictable, lashing out at anyone who dared to get close.

on your late night drives, you would often find yourself bracing for impact. would jay walk you home, or would he send you home crying again? it was a cruel game of chance, and you were trapped in its endless cycle.

"look" he sighed "im sorry for lashing out, im just stressed with-" he paused longer than expected "practice, AP calc, everything, okay? its nothing personal"

his apology didnt change the storm of emotions forming inside you but you tried to tame it as best as possible, trying to look unbothered by his constant outbursts of hatred.

when did it all go wrong? you have known him since forever, his toothy grin and messed up bangs permanently engraved in your head. you managed to form an awkward smile "its okay" its always okay, as long as you were with him

do you love me, want me, hate me?

finally, you arrived at your house, and jay pulled over. the quiet and calm suburb contrasting the chaos in your head. the car idled, the engine still rumbling.

there was a moment of silence, a moment where the weight of your emotions hung in the air. and then, without another word, jay reached over and opened the car door. his gesture made you feel giddy and hope filled your heart. as you stepped out, you gave him your biggest smile

"ill see you tomorrow, text me, okay? i love you"

he didnt say it back nor did he message you that night

no, I don't understand

PERM TAGLIST @misokei @avocarua @sngvhs @essmarye @haechansbbg

SERIES' MASTERLIST @flwerfield @hyhees @mrchweeee @j1nniee @mikaluvsyouu @delulu4-life @mora134340 @beomsbeanie @leep0ems @cIphantom-hive @yla-aira @filmofhybe @nishik1

[chion3spid3r]

who am I talking to ?

pairings : earth42!Milesxfem!reader

warnings : alcohol and substance usage, drunken behaviour, physical altercations, mention of injuries and blood, mentions of kissing, suggestive, intimate interactions, strong language, swearing, emotional distress, stalking and intrusions, peer pressure, thriller elements

summary : you fell for the prowler at the first place

a/n : I may be obsessed by one character I think but c’monnn 😙

words count : 5.4k

pt1 -> pt2

the night was alive with the vibrant chaos of a birthday party at your friend's house. the heady mix of alcohol and a hint of something stronger coursed through your veins, leaving you dizzy and disoriented. you danced with reckless abandon until your feet ached, surrounded by a blur of boys and girls exchanging kisses without a care.

eventually, the pain in your feet became unbearable. you stumbled towards a couch near the dance floor, collapsing onto it with a heavy sigh. as you glanced at your phone, the screen flickered and died, the battery drained. It was 3:36 AM.

you knew it was time to leave. with a resigned sigh, you pushed yourself up and made your way to your friends. tapping Layla on the shoulder, you leaned in and yelled over the pounding music, "I'm heading back home!"

Layla looked at you with a pout, her expression a mix of disappointment and drunken cheer. "nooo, {Y/N}, stay here with us! girl!"

you smiled, shaking your head. "no, no, I need to get back home now. it's late. bye, girly. happy birthday again!" the words slurred together as you waved goodbye and staggered towards the door.

the moment you stepped outside, the cool night air hit you, sending shivers down your spine. the streets of New York were quieter now, but your mind was a foggy mess from too many vodka shots. you started walking, hoping to find your way home, when you remembered your phone was dead, and with it, your GPS.

"great," you muttered to yourself, frustration mingling with your inebriation. you tried to recall the route home, but it was like navigating a labyrinth in the dark.

as you wandered aimlessly, the sounds of a struggle reached your ears. you rounded a corner and saw two men fighting in a dark alley. one of them, unmistakable with his glowing purple eyes, was the notorious Prowler. fear froze you in place as the other man, bloody and desperate, spotted you.

"come here, you!" he yelled, rushing towards you. panic took over, and you raised your hands defensively. but nothing happened. no impact, no pain. you peeked through your fingers to see the Prowler standing over the lifeless body of his opponent, his claws dripping with blood.

"it's dangerous out here, ma'am," the Prowler's voice was altered by his mask, making it sound almost robotic.

in your drunken state, words tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop them. "o-okay… I mean… yes… can… uh… I'm lost…" tears began to stream down your face, the alcohol amplifying your emotions.

the Prowler sighed, his tone exasperated. "okay? and?"

desperation pushed you to plead. "and?? juro que es estúpido… can you bring me home if you don't want me to get kidnapped or worse! raped!"

his clawed hand clamped over your mouth, silencing you. "shush it. why would I?"

thinking quickly, you blurted, "or I'll tell everyone who killed this man."

the Prowler regarded you with a mix of annoyance and amusement thought the mask. "that's the Prowler, yeah, everyone knows that."

you groaned, feeling foolish. "please! I'll do everything that you ask, Prowler, just take me home!"

he paused, considering your offer. after a moment, he pulled out a phone. "deal?"

"deal," you agreed hastily, giving him your address.

without another word, he scooped you up and launched into the air, his grappling hook propelling you both from rooftop to rooftop. the city blurred beneath you as you clung to him, your screams echoing in the night.

"slow down, slow down, slow down!!!" you cried, your grip tightening around his neck.

finally, you arrived at your apartment building. the Prowler set you down, his eyes still glowing ominously. "remember our deal," he said, his voice a low growl distorted.

tou nodded, too shaken to argue. "thank you," you whispered.

he turned to leave before disappearing into the night.

back in your apartment, you collapsed onto your bed, the night's events replaying in your mind. you were safe, thanks to the Prowler. but what would he ask of you in return? as you drifted off to sleep, you couldn't shake the feeling that your life had just become infinitely more complicated.

monday morning arrived with an unforgiving brightness, and you dragged yourself to school, still feeling the effects of the weekend's chaos. your head throbbed, and your eyelids felt like they were weighed down by lead. the halls of your high school buzzed with the usual chatter, but you moved through them in a daze, barely registering the noise around you.

in first period, you found your usual seat and slumped over your desk, desperately trying to stay awake. your friends, Layla among them, were chattering away, recounting the events of the party. you tried to join in, but your brain felt like it was wrapped in cotton. before you knew it, your head had dropped to your arms, and you were out cold.

you were jolted awake by the sharp rap of a ruler on your desk. "ms. {Y/N}, sleeping in class again? detention after school," the teacher announced sternly, her voice cutting through your groggy haze.

detention was a dreary affair, but as you walked into the room, you were surprised to see Miles Morales sitting at one of the desks. he was the quiet, brooding type—handsome in a way that made your heart skip a beat whenever you saw him. his braids, his sharp jawline, and his intense eyes had always captivated you, even though he rarely spoke to anyone.

you took a seat a few desks away, trying not to stare. Miles glanced up, his gaze briefly meeting yours. there was something familiar in his eyes, something that made your mind flash back to the Prowler’s piercing purple gaze. you shook off the thought.

as the detention supervisor droned on about the rules, you found yourself sneaking glances at Miles. his demeanor was cold, distant, almost aloof, but there was a complexity to him that intrigued you. his nonchalant attitude, the way he leaned back in his chair with an air of indifference, only made him more attractive.

when the supervisor left the room for a moment, you took a deep breath and turned to Miles. "hey, rough weekend, huh?" you ventured, trying to sound casual.

Miles looked at you, his expression unreadable. "yeah, you could say that," he replied, his voice low and smooth. it sent a shiver down your spine.

"i'm {Y/N}, by the way," you said, offering a small smile.

"i know," Miles said, his eyes softening just a fraction. "i'm Miles."

there was a silence that stretched between you, but it wasn't uncomfortable. it was charged with unspoken words, with the weight of a shared moment neither of you fully understood.

"so, what landed you in detention?" you asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

"just… stuff," Miles said, shrugging. "not really worth talking about."

you nodded, sensing that pushing for more would only make him withdraw. "i get it. sometimes it feels like this place is a prison."

Miles gave a small, almost imperceptible smile. "yeah, something like that."

as the conversation lulled, you couldn't help but think about the Prowler again. the way Miles carried himself, the way his eyes seemed to hold secrets—it was uncanny. but it was a ridiculous notion. Miles Morales, the quiet, reserved boy in your class, couldn't be the ruthless vigilante you had encountered.

yet, as you sat there, you couldn't deny the flutter in your chest. Miles was handsome, yes, but there was something more. and for Miles, sitting next to you, the girl he had secretly fallen for, was almost too much to bear. he had watched you from afar, his feelings growing with each passing day, but his life as the Prowler made it impossible for him to be close to anyone.

after what felt like an eternity, detention ended. you gathered your things, casting one last glance at Miles. "see you around," you said, your voice softer than before.

"yeah, see you," Miles replied, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer.

as you walked out of the room, you couldn't shake the feeling that something significant had just happened. Miles Morales was more than he seemed, and you were determined to find out what lay behind those intense eyes. little did you know, he was thinking the same thing about you, his heart torn between his duties as the Prowler and his desire to be close to you.

after a long, exhausting day at school, you finally returned home. the weight of the day seemed to melt away the moment you stepped through the door of your apartment. your sanctuary. you locked the door behind you and leaned against it for a moment, savoring the quiet.

you headed straight to the bathroom, peeling off your clothes as you went. the hot water of the shower was a welcome relief, washing away the grime and stress of the day. you closed your eyes, letting the steam envelop you as you worked the shampoo into your hair, the scent of lavender filling the air. you scrubbed your body with a loofah, relishing the feeling of cleanliness, and spent extra time massaging the tension out of your neck and shoulders.

after rinsing off, you stepped out of the shower and wrapped yourself in a plush towel, patting your skin dry. your hair required special attention, being the beautiful, curly hair. you applied a generous amount of leave-in conditioner, working it through your curls with your fingers. you then used a wide-tooth comb to gently detangle your hair, starting from the tips and working your way up to the roots, taking care to avoid breakage. once your hair was detangled, you applied a nourishing oil to lock in the moisture, your curls now defined and shiny. finally, you styled your hair in a protective manner to keep it healthy and hydrated overnight.

you pulled on your favorite pair of sweatpants and an oversized hoodie, the fabric soft and comforting against your skin. you towel-dried your hair and brushed it out, feeling refreshed and a little more human.

next, you headed to the kitchen for a quick snack. you grabbed an apple and a granola bar, then poured yourself a glass of water. you carried your makeshift meal to your desk and sat down, ready to tackle your homework. the pile of assignments seemed never-ending, but you knew you had to get through it.

you settled in, opening your textbooks and spreading your notes out in front of you. the familiar routine of solving equations and analyzing literature helped you unwind. the rhythmic scratching of your pen against the paper was almost soothing. time passed quickly as you worked through problem after problem, paragraph after paragraph.

suddenly, a sharp tapping noise at your window made you jump. your heart pounded in your chest as you turned to see what had caused the sound. at first, you saw nothing, just the dark night outside your window. but then, a shadow moved, and you saw him—the Prowler.

your breath caught in your throat. he was just as imposing as you remembered, his purple eyes glowing ominously in the darkness. he didn't knock or greet you. he just stood there, waiting. you hesitated for a moment before moving to the window, your hands trembling slightly as you unlocked it and pushed it open.

the Prowler climbed in with a silent grace, his presence filling the room. he didn't waste any time with pleasantries. "do you have a knife?" he asked, his voice cold and mechanical through the mask.

"a knife?" you echoed, startled by the request. "uh, yeah, I think so. give me a second." you hurried to the kitchen, rummaging through the drawers until you found a sharp, sturdy blade. you returned to your room, the knife clutched tightly in your hand.

he took it from you without a word, examining it briefly before nodding. "good," he said. then, without another word, he turned and climbed back out the window, disappearing into the night as quickly and silently as he had arrived.

you stood there for a moment, staring at the open window, your mind racing. why had he needed the knife? what was he planning to do with it? the questions buzzed around in your head, but there were no answers to be found. with a sigh, you closed the window and locked it, trying to push the encounter out of your mind.

you returned to your desk, but the focus you had earlier was gone. the homework that had once seemed so absorbing now felt trivial. after a few futile attempts to concentrate, you gave up and decided to call it a night. you packed up your books and headed to your bedroom, the day's events replaying in your mind.

you changed into your pajamas—a soft, worn T-shirt and a pair of loose shorts—then climbed into bed. as you lay there, staring at the ceiling, you couldn't help but think about Miles. his familiar yet enigmatic presence at detention, and now, the terrifying yet fascinating encounter with the Prowler.

your eyelids grew heavy, but sleep didn't come easily. your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. Miles was handsome, mysterious, and somehow, you felt drawn to him in a way you couldn't quite explain. and the Prowler—his cold demeanor, his dangerous aura—only added to the intrigue.

eventually, exhaustion overcame you, and you drifted off to sleep. Your dreams were filled with flashes of purple eyes and braided hair, of silent shadows and whispered secrets. little did you know, Miles Morales was thinking of you too, his heart torn between his life as the Prowler and his feelings for you.

as the city outside your window continued its restless dance, you slept soundly, unaware of the tangled web of fate that was slowly drawing you closer to the mysterious boy with the cold eyes and the warm heart.

the next morning, you woke up feeling surprisingly energetic. Despite the strange encounter with the Prowler, you felt a sense of excitement about the day ahead. you got dressed, pulled your curls into a stylish puff, and headed to school with a renewed sense of purpose. the events of the previous night played on a loop in your mind, but you pushed them to the back, focusing instead on the potential for new beginnings.

as you walked through the school halls, you couldn’t help but think about Miles. his presence at detention, the way he carried himself, and the undeniable connection you felt. you were determined to find out more about him, but for now, you had to get through the school day.

in the afternoon, during your literature class, Khai, a boy who had been infatuated with you for ages, started bothering you again. he had a habit of making sexist jokes and annoying comments, all in a misguided attempt to get your attention.

“hey, Y/N, did you do something yo your hairs today ? you look hotter than the sun,” Khai said with a smirk, leaning over your desk.

you rolled your eyes and pushed him away. “Khai, seriously? can't you stop?”

but Khai didn’t get the hint. He continued his attempts to impress you with more crude jokes and comments. you felt a mix of frustration and annoyance building up inside you. just as you were about to snap at him, you heard a familiar cold voice.

“she said stop,” Miles said, his tone icy and menacing. he stood behind Khai, his dark eyes narrowed.

Khai turned around, surprised. “whoa, chill, man. I was joking.”

Miles stepped closer, his presence intimidating. “you’re pissing her off, you aint seeing or what ?”

Khai mumbled something under his breath and slinked away, clearly intimidated by Miles’ demeanor. you looked at Miles, your heart racing. his cold gaze shifted to you for a moment, but he didn’t say a word. he just turned and walked away, leaving you stunned and oddly flustered. "thanks ? i guess" you talked clearly in the wind.

as soon as Miles was out of sight, Layla came running up to you, practically bouncing with excitement. “oh my god, Y/N, did you see that? Miles Morales just stood up for you! that’s insane!”

you laughed, still processing what had happened. “yeah, I saw. why such a big deal?”

“are you kidding? Miles never does that for anyone. he’s always so aloof and distant. you’re lucky gurl” Layla exclaimed, her eyes wide with amazement.

you smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. maybe there was more to Miles than you realized. as the day went on, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him whenever you saw him in the hallways. each time, he seemed to be surrounded by an air of mystery and intrigue that only made you more curious.

later, during PE class, you joined your friends for some exercise. you ran a few laps around the track, enjoying the fresh air and the sense of freedom that came with it. after that, you settled down to watch the boys’ basketball game. Miles was on the court, his team dominating the game.

you watched in awe as he moved with a grace and agility that was mesmerizing. every shot he took seemed effortless, and his focus was intense. you found yourself cheering for him, your excitement growing with each point his team scored.

“go, Miles!” you shouted, your voice ringing out across the gym.

Miles glanced up at the sound of your voice, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. for a brief moment, his cold exterior seemed to soften, and he gave you a small smile before returning his attention to the game.

Miles’ team won, and as the final buzzer sounded, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride for him. you joined the rest of the students in cheering and applauding the players. Miles looked up again, his eyes finding yours in the crowd. there was something unreadable in his gaze, a mix of emotions that you couldn’t quite decipher.

as you headed to the locker room with your friends, you couldn’t stop thinking about the events of the day. from Miles standing up for you to his impressive performance on the court, he was constantly on your mind. and little did you know, Miles was thinking about you too. he admired your strength, your kindness, and the way you carried yourself. despite his cold exterior, you had managed to make a significant impact on him, and he was struggling with his own feelings of attraction and vulnerability.

the day ended with a sense of anticipation. you knew that something was changing between you and Miles, and you were eager to see where this new connection would lead.

Here is a continuation of the story with the scene you described, full of details, dialogue, and the growing tension between Miles and you:

miles strode into the gymnasium with his basketball team, his eyes immediately drawn to the cheerleaders practicing at the far end. there she was, y/n, amidst the squad, her movements graceful and precise. he couldn't help but admire the way she moved, the way her curls bounced with each cheer, and the radiant smile that lit up her beautiful face when she nailed a routine. she was stunning, and miles found himself unable to tear his gaze away, mentally detailing every little thing about her.

as his team began their warm-ups, a few of the guys whistled and hollered at the cheerleaders, making crude comments that made miles' skin crawl with jealousy. "damn, y/n looking fiiine today," one of them said with a low whistle, and miles grit his teeth, trying his best to tune them out and focus on the court.

when the cheerleaders finished up and headed for the locker rooms, miles seized his chance. he quickly made his way over, his heart pounding as he approached the door. taking a deep breath, he knocked lightly before letting himself in.

y/n was at her locker, her back to him as she gathered her things. miles allowed his eyes to linger on her for just a moment, admiring the curve of her hips and the way her shorts hugged her body perfectly.

clearing his throat, he moved closer. "hey," he said, his voice soft yet confident.

y/n turned at the sound, her eyes widening slightly when she saw him there. "miles, hey," she replied with a warm smile that made his stomach flip.

"you guys killed it out there," miles told her, taking another step forward. "that routine was insane."

"thanks," y/n said, her cheeks flushing ever so slightly from the compliment. "you've got skills on the court too, you know. that last shot you made was amazing."

miles grinned, unable to contain his pride at her words. "you noticed that, huh?" he teased lightly, taking another step until they were face to face.

y/n met his gaze steadily, her lips quirked in an amused smile. "kinda hard not to when you move like that."

his heart skipped at the subtle flirtation in her tone. "oh yeah?" he murmured, his voice dropping lower. "you gonna come watch me play again then?"

her eyes sparkled with a playful glint. "maybe i will," she replied smoothly. "if you're lucky."

miles chuckled, boldly reaching out to let his fingers graze her bare arm, relishing in the shiver that ran through her at the contact. "guess i'll have to keep impressing you then."

y/n opened her mouth to reply, but whatever she was going to say was cut off by the loud clearing of a throat behind them. they jumped apart to see the janitor standing there, an irritated frown on his weathered face.

"you kids need to clear out," he grumbled. "i gotta lock up and clean in here."

miles swallowed hard, trying to mask his disappointment at being interrupted. "yeah, no problem, man. we were just leaving."

y/n quickly gathered the rest of her things, avoiding the janitor's judgemental stare. "i'll see you around, miles," she said softly, giving him one last lingering look before brushing past him.

"yeah, see you," miles replied, his voice strained as he watched her go. as soon as she was out of sight, he couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face, his body still buzzing from their heated exchange. quietly, he followed her out, not wanting their time together to end just yet.

he caught up to her just outside the gym doors. "hey, wait up!" he called out. "i'll walk you out."

y/n slowed, allowing him to fall into step beside her. "you don't have to do that," she said, though the corner of her lips curved upwards.

"i want to," miles insisted with a lopsided smile. "gotta spend as much time with you as i can, right?"

she laughed then, the warm, rich sound sending miles' heart fluttering. "why's that?" she teased.

miles shrugged nonchalantly, stuffing his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching for her again. "just tryna make up for lost time, i guess. feels like i've been sleeping on getting to know you."

her expression softened at his honest words. "well, we can't have that, can we?"

they continued on like that, Miles asking her questions about her life, her dreams, her favorite things to do around the city. and y/n responded in kind, relaxing more and more with each passing moment as the conversation flowed easily between them. she couldn't remember the last time she'd connected with someone so quickly and deeply.

before either of them realized it, they had reached the front entrance where their paths would diverge. miles felt a pang of disappointment, not ready for their time together to end just yet.

"well," he said, slowing to a stop and turning to face her fully. "guess i'll let you get going."

y/n nodded, worrying her bottom lip briefly as she hesitated. "yeah, i should head home…" she trailed off, her gaze locked with his, heavy with unspoken possibility.

miles opened his mouth to ask her to grab a bite, to keep their conversation going anywhere but here. but then he remembered - the Prowler had plans tonight, a mission he couldn't put off or reschedule. his face fell slightly as the realization hit him.

"unless…you wanted to do this again sometime?" he asked instead, unable to keep the hopeful note from his voice. "i actually gotta take care of some stuff tonight, but maybe we could get that food another time?"

if y/n was disappointed by his inability to take her up on her unspoken offer, she didn't show it. her smile only brightened. "definitely. I'd really like that."

miles returned her smile, his body still buzzing with anticipation for whatever this new connection was budding between them. "cool, it's a date then."

they lingered there for a moment longer, the charge crackling in the air around them. finally, y/n gave a little wave. "asta luego, miles."

"see you later," he echoed, watching intently as she turned and headed off. miles waited until she was completely out of sight before allowing the grin to spread across his face, giddy and light in a way he couldn't remember feeling for a long time.

as excited as he was about the potential of exploring this thing with y/n further, a small part of him couldn't help the twinge of guilt. his life as the Prowler was one of secrecy and solitude - opening himself up, even a little, felt dangerous. still, the prospect of getting to know y/n better, of unlocking the mystery of who she truly was, it made the risk seem worthwhile.

with a lingering smile and his heart filled with new purpose, miles turned and headed off to prepare for his nightly patrol, already counting down the hours until he could see y/n again.

2 months of date with miles passed...

Here's the continuation with Miles visiting you as the cold, unfriendly Prowler at night, but then panicking when his identity is accidentally revealed, leading to him breaking character and becoming his usual flirty self with you:

y/n had just settled into bed when a tapping at her window made her whole body tense. she turned to see the imposing figure of the prowler lurking outside, his glowing purple eyes piercing the darkness.

with a resigned sigh, she climbed out of bed and opened the window a crack. "what do you want?" she asked flatly, already regretting the words as soon as they left her mouth.

the prowler didn't respond at first, simply staring at her through the narrow opening with those unnerving luminous eyes. finally, he spoke, his voice distorted and devoid of any warmth.

"let me in."

it wasn't a request, but a demand, one y/n knew better than to refuse. she pulled the window open wider, allowing the prowler to effortlessly hoist himself inside with silent, predatory grace.

he turned to face her, the full imposing bulk of his frame mere feet away. y/n swallowed hard, hating how her heart pounded with a mix of fear and something else she couldn't quite name whenever he was near.

"sooo?" she prodded when the weighted silence stretched on too long. "you just gonna creep around my room all night or…?"

"be quiet," the prowler growled, his artificially deepened rasp making the hairs on the back of y/n's neck prickle. "when i want to hear you speak, i'll ask."

she instantly fell silent, chastened by the cold menace in his tone. the prowler regarded her for another long moment before reaching up to tap something on the side of his mask. at once, the purple glow in his eye sockets dimmed, seeming to deactivate whatever night vision setting he'd had engaged.

"better," he muttered in that same eerie voice. "don't need that in here."

y/n frowned in confusion. "uh, i have lamps, you know…"

"didn't ask," he cut her off sharply.

she pressed her lips together to keep from snapping back, sensing the prowler's rapidly fraying patience. what did he want from her tonight? their usual deal was frighteningly open-ended.

as if reading her mind, the prowler took a heavy step closer, further invading her personal space. "remember our deal, girl? told you i'd want something in return someday for saving your ass that night."

y/n's heart rate kicked up another notch but she met his masked gaze steadily, refusing to show fear. "and what's that?"

in lieu of a response, the prowler grabbed her wrist and tugged her flush against his solid body. y/n gasped at the sudden contact as he wrapped one powerful arm around her waist, effectively trapping her.

the prowler leaned in until his expressionless mask was just inches from her face, voice lowering to a gravelly murmur. "think you can figure it out."

y/n's mind went blank with panic, heart thundering as she registered the unmistakable implication behind his words and actions. without thinking, she shoved hard against his chest, trying to put space between them. her palm must have hit the button to disengage his mask, because there was a soft hissing sound as it depressurized and began to retract—

"wait, no—!" the prowler cried out, a stark contrast to the cold, grating rasp from before.

but it was too late. the mask had already fully retracted, revealing the handsome, panic-stricken face of miles morales beneath. he stared at y/n with wide, terrified eyes, all traces of the prowler's menacing demeanor instantly evaporated.

y/n could only gape at him, frozen with shock, barely registering that miles was rapidly pulling away, putting several feet of distance between them as he raked a hand through his tousled curls.

"shit, oh shit, y/n, i'm sorry, i shouldnt've…" he trailed off helplessly, averting his eyes as a flush crept up his neck, stealing his composure. "you weren't supposed to see me like this."

"miles…" y/n breathed, still trying to process the complete 180 from cold, indifferent prowler to the adorably flustered boy standing before her. "you're…you really are—"

"yeah," he admitted hoarsely, sneaking a glance back up at her through those impossibly long lashes of his. "surprise, i guess."

y/n shook her head slowly. "not as much of one as you'd think."

miles frowned slightly at that. "whaddya mean?"

instead of replying, y/n took a few tentative steps towards him, emboldened by the stark change in his demeanor. once she was close enough to reach out and touch him, she allowed herself a small smile.

"i had my suspicions," she murmured, lifting one hand to trace the line of his sharp jaw with a featherlight touch. miles shivered at the contact, those hazel eyes of his darkening as she continued. "about you being more than just some quiet, brooding loner. turns out i was right."

the words clearly took miles by surprise, and he seemed at a momentary loss for how to respond. y/n took advantage of his silence, her fingers skating up to brush one of those temptingly full lips.

"gotta say, though…" she went on, bringing her face mere inches from his own. "never would've pegged you for a vigilante. but i can definitely work with it."

she punctuated the words by leaning in and pressing her lips to his in a devastatingly soft kiss that had miles melting instantly against her. all of his former tension, all of his panic over being unmasked dissolved as he eagerly returned the gentle pressure, one large hand coming up to cradle her face while the other settled at the small of her back and pulled her flush against him.

when they finally broke apart, miles was gazing at her with a look of such naked adoration and longing, y/n nearly had to catch her breath. he brushed a rogue lock of hair from her face tenderly.

"y/n…" he murmured, his voice lower and richer than she'd ever heard it. "god, you have no idea how long i've wanted…"

he trailed off, seeming momentarily overwhelmed, but y/n just beamed at him, so painfully endeared by his sudden shyness.

"don't worry, hot stuff," she teased lightly, trailing a finger down the sculpted line of his chest. "i'm all yours. prowler powers and all."

miles let out a shaky laugh, a joyful, boyish sound that made her insides twist with fondness. then he was pulling her close once more, his mouth finding hers again in a series of lingering kisses interspersed with barely audible confessions of how incredible she was, how amazing, how he'd never felt this way about anyone before.

*to be continued*

Ⓡ chion3spid3r all rights reserved. please to not plagiarize, repost, or translate !

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Gifted with Impurity // part 2

|| Avatar Korra x fem!reader!

|| Warnings: reader uses blood bending, fight with equalist members, angst then comfort-ish

|| Summary: You and Korra are attacked by Equalist chi blockers after your date. She defends you, you save her with blood bending.

Read part one here

Requests open!

~~~

You and Korra had just finished watching a mover together, the two of you laughing and discussing what you had just watched. Overall just really enjoying each other's company on your date.

The two of you turned a corner, hand in hand as you walked around the city for a bit. It was late but neither of you were worried about anything bad happening. After all, if something did happen you had the Avatar there to protect you. You were sure you couldn't be any safer.

You would quickly regret those words.

Before you even realized what was happening, a fight broke out. Korra reacting faster than you as she fought off against Equalist chi blockers. You tensed at the sight of the masks, memories immediately flooding to the front of your mind.

Korra blasted fire at them, defending attacks left and right. Keeping you guarded and protected. She would do anything to make sure you were safe, even if you weren't the main target.

You watched as they got in some good hits on Korra, effortlessly dodging her fire bending attacks. As she punched the air with a blast of fire. The Equalist moved out of the way; swiftly headed for her side, hitting all the correct points and blocking the chi flow. Korra grunted and swayed. Throwing an attack of fire with her opposite side and kicking the chi blocker away from her. A second quickly swooped in and dodged a blast of fire, hitting up Korra's side and blocking the chi. Making it impossible for her to fight with either arm. Korra staggered back. A finale equalist coming up behind her; moments away from electrocuting the Avatar with those damn gloves. They've learnt it's easier to overwhelm the Avatar as a group if they hope to have any chances of defeating her.

Your eyes widened and your body reacted before your mind could catch up and question what you were doing. Hands raised as if controlling puppets. The three Equalists movements stopped. Body's twitching, limbs moving against their will as you blood bended them away from Korra. Taking a step forwards. Adrenaline flowed through your body. The rush overwhelming you but in a way you... enjoyed? You'd never felt this in the past when you used blood bending. The thought of doing it always terrified you. This time? You thrived in the adrenaline. Maybe because it was done on your own choice, rather than your Father's force. A smirk formed on your lips as you forced the chi blockers off the ground, raising your hands. You were moments away from flicking them into the nearest wall...

Faintly you could hear someone shouting your name. Pulling you from your thoughts as you looked to see Korra, who was staring at you with wide fearful eyes.

"Y/N!" She yelled, the fear in her voice and eyes making you pause. The Equalists dropping to the ground, the force of the impact knocking them out cold as you stood there. Hands still held out in front of you in a puppeteer like gesture.

Korra seemed to almost hesitate before she took one step, then another before full on sprinting towards you. Her hands clasp against your own and pull them down, hands linked and held between the two of you.

"We talked about this. You... you can't use blood bending." Korra's voice was low, you looked away from her.

"My body reacted before my mind." You explain, your voice even quieter than Korra's. She frowned and hesitated before moving her hand to your cheek. She didn't mean to be fearful of you, but after seeing that? Who wouldn't be at least a little scared?

"But you enjoyed it. Didn't you?"

You stayed quiet. Which confirmed everything Korra needed to know. She bit her bottom lip, debating where to go with this now. The Avatar felt torn between her morals and her heart.

"I couldn't let them hurt you." You tell her, though you knew there was no taking back what you'd done. You messed up. Korra had warned you weeks ago that you only got one chance. Would she really give you a second?

Time seemed to stand still. Dragging on as you waited for her to say something. Anything. Korra had tried to respond many times, but couldn't seem to find her words. Ultimately she decided to let go of you and you feared the worst.

You held your breath and looked away, though she made you look back at her with a soft touch to your cheek.

"I know when you had first asked for my help, I told you you had one chance. I never expected to come to care about you in the ways that I do so... I'm willing to give you another. Just- promise me you won't use blood bending again." Korra pleaded with you, you sighed out the breath you had held. You'd prepared to hear her break up with you before you even got the chance to go on a second date. You weren't prepared to be given a second chance. At first, you didn't know how to react. But your body reacted for you.

You pulled the Avatar into a tight hug and she hugged you back, gripping at the clothing that covers your shoulder blade as she holds you tight. Head buried into the crook of your neck. The two of you stayed like that for a long while before the sound of movement caught your ears. You looked down and noticed one of the Equalists were starting to wake up. Sharing a panicked look with Korra, she gripped your hand and the two of you ran for it before they could fully gain consciousness.

[bunnliix]

𝕊𝕥𝕦𝕡𝕚𝕕 𝕚𝕟 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖

Based on a dialogue prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting, and I thought Yungi as a duo fit it.

This was so fun to write, and if it's not already a little obvious, I enjoy writing college AUs haha. They're fun to write, as I'm in college myself.

prompt: “You’re both so smart and yet so stupid.” word count: 2.4k warnings: Mingi and reader being stupid, Yunho being the kinda smart one, worries about unreciprocated crushes, a smattering of angst

The three of them had been friends since their first day of highschool. Well, Mingi and Yunho had been friends since childhood, but they met and basically adopted y/n into their little circle almost instantaneously after they had met in their homeroom. It was an interesting friendship in the eyes of most others, Yunho being the outgoing member of the group, while Mingi and y/n were the introverts, but it worked for them, and they had all decided on going to the same university after high school. That’s how they got to this point, being second years in university, Yunho pursuing an English degree, Mingi with his music degree, and y/n with her history degree. 

With how different their degrees are, they rarely had classes together now that they’re all second years, but they took care to see that their schedules all matched up at least once a week, which usually meant lunch breaks together. They all looked forward to seeing each other, though y/n sometimes dreaded them.

Since their last year of high school, y/n had developed massive crushes on both boys. She couldn’t help it, they were attractive, and honestly they ticked every box on her checklist of what she wanted in a boyfriend. She’s never said anything to either boy, fearful of what would happen to their friendship, and she could never give up a friendship for a relationship. She’d prefer shoving her feelings about them into a box forever, than risk it all, risk the trio’s friendship for her crushes. She didn’t think she’d be able to choose one of them anyways, her love was for both of them, not just one.

Even if she was able to choose, she didn’t want to think how that would impact her friendship with them, or their friendship with each other. So she kept her mouth shut, and enjoyed their friendship, ignoring her own yearnings for more.

She was currently sitting down in the quieter part of the university’s food court, waiting for her two friends to arrive. Her class had gotten out early, and so she decided to wait at the food court, so that they had a good table. She didn’t have to wait long for her two boys to show up, as she saw them walking towards her, smiles on their faces. 

“Hey! Did you wait long for us?” Mingi asked as they both sat down.

“I didn’t, I got here maybe five minutes ago?” She said, voice going higher at the end as she was unsure of how much time had passed.

“Oh that’s good. Both of our classes ran a bit late, so we were worried that you’d be waiting a long time.” Yunho said, relieved that she hadn’t waited long.

“I’d wait forever for you both, so you don’t have to worry about that.” She told them, before realizing how that could be taken, and a light blush appeared on her face.

Yunho immediately realized the non-platonic meaning of her words pretty quickly. His friend hadn’t been that subtle with her feelings, he knew that she liked both Mingi and himself, but knew that she’d never say a word about how she felt. He knew both himself and his friend felt the same way, but Mingi, oh sweet Mingi was so oblivious. The man may be a genius at producing and creating music, but he was so dumb when it came to matters of love. 

Yunho himself, has loved Mingi for almost as long as they’ve known each other, and y/n, since their second year of highschool. He had the same dilemma y/n was facing after he realized his crush on her, not sure of how to reconcile with wanting both of them, wanting to be with both of them. This led him into finding out what polyamory was, and after a lot of learning, he’s okay with his feelings, though like y/n, a bit too scared to change their dynamic.

Mingi was just dumb when it came to love, at least when it came to recognizing that others felt the same way. He knew very well his own feelings, that he’s loved both of his best friends for years now. He was the first to fall for both of them, and he’s been quiet on the topic of his crush on Yunho, but he’s spoken to his friend about his crush on the third part of their trio, and his fears on how if he said anything, that maybe she’d say no, or it would just destroy their entire friendship, and he couldn’t bear doing that, so he stayed quiet on the matter. 

So the three of them all stayed silent on their feelings, even if they knew the feelings of the others. 

Regardless of that, they spent their time between classes catching each other up on their class antics or drama, as well as bemoaning their homework and assignments, as always. Y/n was saddled with the heaviest workload of the three, from a writing aspect. Yunho wasn’t too far behind, however, and Mingi got off the lightest, but instead he had a lot of work that relegated him to the studio instead. 

“Well, back to classes it is.” Mingi groaned.

“You’re going to come over after your classes are done, y/nnie?” Yunho looked down at her, and she nodded to confirm. 

“Yeah, I’m gonna head over to your guys’ place right after my class lets out.” She told them.

“What way are you both heading?” She asked, since they usually split up from the table, but they were so engrossed in conversation that they all continued walking out of the hall.  

“We’re both heading this way, I think?” Yunho answered for both of them, Mingi nodding along in agreement.

“Oh! I am too! So we can keep talking today.” Y/n commented, happy.

This brought a smile onto the two boys’ faces, honestly whenever she smiled, they had to, her smile was contagious. It brought them so much joy to see her happy, and for them, that’s what mattered the most. 

Since y/n’s class was the first they passed, the two left her there after saying their goodbyes, before heading towards Yunho’s classroom.

“Her smile makes me swoon, Yunho. I’m so fucking screwed. I’ve been screwed since the moment she walked into our lives, and I’m not sure what to do.” Mingi confided in Yunho as they walked down the quiet hallways of the English department. 

“Why don’t you say something to her? You’ll never know how she’ll react unless you say something to her.” Yunho advised Mingi, but also felt saddened that the man he was in love with, maybe didn’t love him back. Why else would he constantly talk about his crush on y/n with him, if the man didn’t see him as just a friend. Eventually, Yunho had to head into class, which left Mingi to head to the studio by himself. 

A while later…

Yunho had opened the door to his and Mingi’s apartment, and after removing his shoes, walked over to their couch and flopped down on it. He was so tired from today, and honestly, he couldn’t stop thinking about his two best friends, they were both so pretty today. He just wanted to kiss them both senseless, but they just had to be so fucking oblivious, didn’t they?

He laid on the couch groaning over the stupidity of his crushes until he heard the door open, looking up to see both of them walk in. Of course they both entered at the same time, think of the devils and they shall appear, it actually works. 

“Oh, Yunho, you got back earlier than us!” Mingi commented after seeing the taller man on the couch.

“I got here about five minutes ago, so I haven’t been home long.

Y/n came to sit on the couch by his feet, having dropped her bag by the door. She smiled over at him, before moving her feet to place them on either side of Yunho’s legs. This moved the man to push himself up on the couch, to give her more room to spread out.

“How were your classes?” He asked her, to which she just shrugged.

Her classes had been boring, and besides she barely paid attention in them. The only thoughts running through her head that afternoon were how much she wanted to say something to them, to tell them about her feelings. Her train of thoughts started down the spiral of every bad thing that could happen if she spoke about how she felt, and she brought her legs into her chest and rested her head on them, unable to look Yunho in the eyes any longer. 

Yunho frowned at seeing her curl into herself, and once Mingi returned to the living room, so did he.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Why are you like this?” The music major asked her, kneeling down next to her.

Hearing the concern from her crush only made her feel sadder, knowing that she was only a friend, that his concern for her came from friendliness, nothing more. She shook her head, unable to open her mouth, if she spoke she’d spill everything. She felt her head get tilted upwards, but she kept her gaze down, not having the courage to look at either of them.

“Y/n, look at me, please.” Yunho pleaded with her, and it worked. She couldn’t bear to hear him sound so sad.

“Talk to us, sweetheart.” He asked her.

She shook her head. “It’d ruin everything. I can’t.” She said, tears rolling down her cheeks as she looked up at him and Mingi, who had moved to Yunho’s side. 

“What are you talking about? You’re not going to ruin anything Y/nnie. We promise.” Mingi promised her, tears gathering in his own eyes at seeing her cry.

Yunho breathed in, knowing exactly why she was like this. God, Mingi and her were so similar it hurts him. They’re both so filled with fear at ruining things, when he knows that none of them would let that happen. They were both so stupid when it came to love, and he couldn’t help but laugh out loud, though he immediately regretted it as he saw y/n face fill with hurt.

“Oh baby, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry for laughing, but I couldn’t help but laugh at you and Mingi.” Yunho told her, eyes filled with sincerity.

“Why are you laughing at me?” Mingi questioned, confused but a little upset.

“You’re both so smart and yet so stupid.” Was all Yunho said at first.

“Yah! What do you mean by that?!” Mingi exclaimed, hitting Yunho in the shoulder.

“You’re both pining after each other, and you’re both too blind to see it!” He revealed their crushes on each other, while being sad that one of his crushes may not be reciprocated. 

“I have a crush on you too!” “I’ve been in love with you since we were kids!” Y/n and Mingi blurted out as they looked at Yunho, who in turn was shocked that they both were in love with him too.

“Well I guess that makes three idiots in love.” Y/n said, recovering from the shock of it all first. 

“I guess it does.” Yunho said, blushing.

Mingi pulled Yunho into a searing kiss, relieved that he was finally able to do so after so many years, as y/n watched, getting a little hot and bothered from watching them. Her crushes actually liked her back.

When the boys pulled back for some air, Yunho reached out to y/n, and the girl grabbed his hand and let him pull her closer to the two. Mingi ran his fingers through her hair as Yunho leaned down to kiss her cheek.

“Why does he get a kiss and not me?” She whined, to which Mingi quickly shut her up with a kiss, wrapping an arm around her waist. Yunho bit his lip as he watched them, eyes wide.

Y/n returned the kiss wholeheartedly, but let Mingi take control, knowing she’d never overpower the taller man. Fuck, this is what she’s dreamed of for years and it’s finally happening. She never wanted this moment to end, but as he pulled away for air, she found that she didn’t mind as much, since Yunho swooped in to kiss her himself. She was in heaven right now, she couldn’t be happier than she was in this moment, in between her two crushes, who liked her back and she finally felt all the weight and anxiety over this fall away, replaced with unadulterated happiness.

She slowly pulled away from Yunho when she was just about out of air, but smiled at him as she pulled back enough to look at the two of them.

“So, now that we’ve all revealed our feelings, what does that mean for us?” She asked.

“I’ve wanted to date you both for years. So I’d like to have you both as my girlfriend and boyfriend, respectively.” Yunho said, looking at both of them.

“That’s what I want too.” Mingi piped up, and they could still see some tears in his eyes.

“Well, we’re all on the same page then, it seems. I finally have the two boyfriends of my dreams.” She said, giggling to herself at the end.

“It’s not gonna be too different from how we normally act, just a bit more touching and maybe some kissing too.” Yunho said, smiling from ear to ear.

“Lots of kissing, if I have my way.” Mingi smirked, suddenly gaining confidence now that everything was out in the open.

Y/n blushed at that thought, she felt like kissing would be the least of her worries with these boys as her boyfriends. Mingi was already shaping up to be a menace of a boyfriend, and she was sure Yunho would be the same, if not a bit sweeter. Mingi laid on top of her, squishing her as she protested, saying that she’s getting crushed. Mingi responded by peppering her face with kisses, before ending it with a kiss on her lips.

“Okay, let’s not crush our girlfriend, yeah?” Yunho, ever the voice of reason, said as he pulled Mingi off of her. 

He pulled the slightly shorter man until Yunho’s chest was touching Mingi’s back, and Mingi beckoned her to come join them. She laid chest to chest on the music major, and smiled up at him and Yunho. This was how they spent the rest of the night, touching each other in some way, even after they had to get off of the couch. Oh, and lots of kissing of course, that was a given with Mingi around.

[silentcryracha]

❍ ‗ Sharing a flight with skz ‗ ❍

Pairings : OT8 X gn reader (Bang Chan x reader, Lee Know x Reader, Changbin x reader, Hyunjin x reader, Han x reader, Felix x reader, Seungmin x reader, IN x reader)

Genre/warnings : none :)

Summary : How I think the Stray Kids members would be like during a flight with their s/o

Word count : 2.5k

A/n : Just a silly little idea that came to my head as someone who's had her fair share of long and shorter/lonely and non flights. Very random but still hope you enjoy!

ps: There could be grammar errors. Please DO NOT repost on other socials. Leave feedbacks if you feel like it, otherwise enjoy! ♡︎

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Chan ‗ ❍

Chan would absolutely be all giddy and excited about this vacation, but most of all to be able to spend time with his s/o.

You two would spend a lot of the time talking and discussing the trip, especially on the colture of the place and maybe try to learn a few words of the language!

Also, organization is a key word, for sure. He mentioned how he hates to not have things under control and prepared whenever he has to do something, so. You would probably already have a list, if not a whole routine prepared for each day.

You would also remind yourselves to not overdo it, or else it will become like a work trip. Mentioning work, you also made him promise to leave his job alone and get his mind off of it while you're on vacation.

During the flight you would watch something together, probably lighthearted like a romcom or an animated movie. You would also share earphones to stay even closer to each other, lovebirds

At some point you will have to rest though, and if you're lucky you'll end up hugging and napping quietly together. But If you were to fall asleep before him though, he would try to sneak out his laptop and work on his music, still making sure to have you close. Maybe hugging you to his chest with one arm, or even just reaching out to play absentmindedly with your hair (or ears, you know how he does it). He'd be the type to raise the armrest between you two to be more comfortable.

You would scold him (lovingly ofc) when you wake up but he'd defend himself saying that he had nothing else to do so might as well do something useful. You'd forgive him on the condition that he would get some sleep later :(

Minho ‗ ❍

I'm not a hundred percent sure if his fear of heights also impacts his mood during a flight, but regardless I lowkey think that he would make everything in his power to make the time pass faster. Also most probably would avoid the window seat or keep the lid shut.

He wouldn't be the most talkative in general I think, considering that you were sharing the space with strangers. He would rather sleep or watch something to distract himself, Something that he either has already seen and loves which will keep him entertained, or maybe something new that could get him interested/hooked.

He would absolutely have snacks in his bag regardless of the airline serving food on board. Especially if you had any favorites or happened to be a bit picky with food.

Yes I feel like he would definetly be quieter than usual, but it's okay because you understand him and don't really mind as soon as he's comfortable.

Would definitely let you sleep on him, but wouldn't want to mess with the security belt or make any changes with the seats. Just to be sure. Something that he would do though is trying to make you as comfortable as possible; folding a jacket in a spoecific way to make a pillow, or straight up bringing one with him, would allow you to put your legs over his, make sure that the headrest isn't uncomfortable for your neck and so on.

You, on the other hand, would also try your best to get him to relax and spend the flight peacefully. When the plane does land though, he'd start smiling and be in such an hilariously good mood that you couldn't help but laugh at him, teasing him just a bit for being so previously anxious.

Changbin ‗ ❍

Changbin would make the most of it. Literally. He would be absolutely delighted to enjoy what he essentially considers a few hours of rest. I feel like he's one of those people that would ask for food seconds or multiple refills for drinks, use every single one of the freebies that are offered by the airline like a sleeping mask, blanket, pillow, headphones.

Of course he would have his own stuff too but he would just refused to use them. He'd look at you with his arms behind his head, a raised eyebrow "This flight costed more than my left arm, might as well enjoy it" then he'd smile at you going "Relax, baby"

Would absolutely be knocked out after an hour in the air. I don't know, he just seems someone that values his sleep and even more when he has the chance to take a break. Also because he'd probably get hyperactive as soon as you landed.

He's the type to recline the seat (still respectfully ofc) and literally make his own little improvised bed to have the nap of a lifetime, even better if he has someone to hug.

Other than that though I feel like you would also be talking a lot about the vacation, telling each other the different places that you wanted to visit. The conversation would change direction about ten times though, because you just enjoy each other's company so much that you end up spending hours just chatting and laughing.

Changbin would probably be very phyisical, even in small things. And a gentleman at the same time. For example; Standing up to let you pass whenever you had to get up from your seat, keeping a hand at the small of your back when you walked, always lets you go first when walking/entering a car/going up the stairs.

Hyunjin ‗ ❍

Hyunjin is someone who I imagine would be pretty chill on a plane. He would have to keep himself entertained in some way though, for sure. So if he's not sleeping for most of the time (by choice, I think) he's definetly keeping his mind busy. I truly think that he would despise to get bored.

You would make conversation about your trip and especially the places that you planned on visiting. Museums and touristic places would be at the top of the list. He probably already looked them all up already and has plans on specific photos to take once he gets there.

I think that it would be likely for you two to watch a movie together. Something pretty serious like a drama or a romantic movie. Regardless of the movie being good or bad it would absolutely spark conversation, even more so if the people involved made some pretty questionable things throughout the movie, then the topics could go on for hours.

He would also most probably have a little sketchbook with him and a couple of pencils, just to practice, scribble or try to capture something interesting to him. I imagine him sliding it your way, silently asking you to play silly games, like tic tac toe, the hangman and so on.

If you were also an artist or someone that likes to play around with drawing a bit, I can imagine you two working on different things quietly for a while and then showing it to each other.

I'm not sure of how much of a cuddler he would be in this case, but he would do some small pda especially when it's just the two of you in your seats. Like playing with your hand or fingers, pecking your cheek/head/temple, or playing with your hair.

Overall I think that it would be a super relaxing experience, just really fun and wholesome :'')

Jisung ‗ ❍

Han is another one who is afraid of heights so I think similarly to Minho for the whole seat placement thing. But,,, maybe he would still want to peek at the sky every once in a while. Maybe.

He is also someone who would be pretty quiet and reserved in these type of 'public' places, but he'd instantly get way more relax when he is seated next to whoever he's with.

You would have some casual conversation about your trip but mostly I think that he would be someone that just wants to relax as much as possible. He wouldn't want to be 'tied' to busy schedules or too many planned things, he'd go 'with the flow'. But again you would definetly talk about how happy you are to be together and be able to have some fun in a new place.

Could go from very talkative to a comfortable silence. You could easily do two different things but still interact once in a while, for example you could be reading a book and he could be watching a movie (I think something intense? Like a drama or a thriller/horror movie) and suddenly you'd hear him gasp softly at a plot twist and when you look up he would be looking at you with an overdramatic expression, making you laugh.

Very likely to share earphones or a playlist to listen to the same things at the same time, again while doing different things or maybe playing a game together.

He would definetly be the person to get a coffe refill, get hyperactive for a solid twenty minutes and then fall asleep on you suddenly. He seems to have a thing for laying on people's laps so he could do that, even better if you played gently with his hair or stroked his arm to give that bit of extra comfort. He would definitely do the same for you though, "Of course baby, come here" the unprovoked english (he totally does that, fight me) would make you laugh before he held you in his arms :')

Felix ‗ ❍

One thing that's assured with him is physical contact. I genuinely think that you would constantly be all over each other no matter what you're doing.

But not in a gross/cheesy way like making out and stuff like that, I mean like sleeping on each other, playing with your hands, random small kisses or nuzzling, or simply involuntarily leaning closer or bumping onto each other when you're laughing. Just... touch.

I also think that you would come prepared with things to spend your time with. Like previously downloading games, music, videos and so on. Mainly to listen to/watch together. Doesn't have to be a movie necessarily, it could also be a sepcific youtube video about a topic that you're both interested in, or something along those lines.

He is also someone who I think is gonna be eager to search up places to visit. Photography spots, touristic sites, restaurants, shopping or fashionables streets. He would definetly want to buy something, if anything to have a memory of your vacation.

If you do end up watching something though, I think that he would like something that keeps him in a good mood and maybe have a few laughs over, like an animated movie, a superhero/action movie or a comedy.

Now, nap time would definetly happen and it's gonna be a tangle of limbs that's for sure. Him laying on you or you on him, hugging, heads against each other and all that. Would also definetly raise the armrest to stay closer.

He would definetly keep reminding you how excited he is for this trip, to see new things and places and mainly to spend time with you. I have an half idea that he would lowkey love to match clothing with you, even if in a subtle way, or just to lend you some of his things and maybe you to him? Like a pair of sunglasses, a jacket, jewelery and so on.

His main missions would be spend quality time with you, do lots and lots of photos, buy both you and himself a present and overall enjoy a new place. Cc

Seungmin ‗ ❍

In his case I feel like this trip wouldn't have been planned or chosen for no reason. Wether it was because one of his favoite sports teams were playing a match there, or because maybe that specific period of the year was gonna be special for the country that you were about to visit. Or again, it could be a place that he has already visited when he was a kid, or that he always wanted to visit. Wathever the reason, it must've been something meaningful to him.

This would definelty be a topic of conversation that could get more or less deep depending on the context. Regardless, he would be very excited for the trip and what it would mean to him.

He would also tell you how glas he was that he could share this experience with someone who means a lot to him. "Aw Minnie, so cute" you'd lovingly tease him for being so sweet and he'd roll his eyes trying to hide a smile and the blush of his cheeks.

On the flight itself you wouldn't do anything out of the ordinary. You'd watch a movie or a drama (even better if it's one that you were currently watching) and chill for a couple of hours until it ended or you got bored. You would be both pretty caugh up with the plot so you wouldn't interact much, but you'd definitely be leaning against him comfortably.

After that you would probably sleep for a while, still hugged and maybe sharing a blanket, You'd still try to keep some composure since at the end of the day you weren't in a private place, but other people were around you. I don't see an extreme amount of pda coming from Seungmin in public, if any at all.

After waking you'd ask for a hot drink, could be coffe or something else, but he would definelty ask for an americano. You'd make small talk comfortably and even before you realized it it would be time to land and for your special trip to begin, and for him to make new memories to write down in his diary.

Jeongin ‗ ❍

Innie seems like a person who also enjoys pretty things and having fun. So the destination would have to reflect that. I think that he would like to pick a big metropolitan city where he could find anything and everything.

He looks like the person that would want to make many experiences; from trying new foods, walk around pretty streets, the fashion district, some historical monuments, restaurants and cafés and overall have a relaxing time. He would probably want to take lots of pictures and make some nice memories, but nothing further than that.

You would talk a lot about it during your flight in a generalistic manner, joking around a lot and just having fun. He also seems to be the type to be keeping to himself with strangers and as a result wouldn't be big on pda either. At most he would allow you to lean on him to rest.

With Jeongin I'm not totally sure if he would even be down to watch something in the first place. I see him more as a chilling and listening to music type. He would just close his eyes and enjoy his own playlists to spend the time, or ASMRs if he wanted to simply relax or sleep for a while.

Overall he wouldn't throughtly enjoy the flight itself because he would get bored and pretty annoyed that he can't move around, so I think that his mood would improve a lot when you actually land.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[kyujism]

paris vacation gone right . . . jang wonyoung x reader

synopsis: you went to paris for a break from your life. You go to a nice cafe to relax only to find a cute girl taking pictures it was, jang wonyoung.

As you stepped foot into the enchanting city of Paris, you exhaled a sigh of relief. This trip was meant to be an escape from the demands and pressures of your everyday life. Seeking solace, you wandered through the charming streets until you stumbled upon a cute cafe tucked away in a quiet corner. It was a breakfast cafe or something. Should be worth it to check it out.

With a heart yearning for tranquility and peace, you entered the café, its warm and inviting atmosphere immediately embracing you. It didn’t have many people in it. As you settled into a cozy corner, ready to indulge in a cup of aromatic coffee, your eyes were drawn to a captivating sight. Across the room, a young woman stood gracefully, her camera in hand, capturing the essence of the café.

Her beauty was undeniable, she had a sense of natural elegance in her every movement. She was beautiful, was she even real? It took a moment for it to register—the girl taking pictures was none other than Jang Wonyoung, it was that famous K-pop idol. What was she doing in paris!? Your heart skipped a beat, and a mix of excitement and nervousness coursed through your veins.

Lost in your thoughts, you couldn't help but steal glances at Wonyoung. Or you started staring whatever suits you. She seemed so at ease, effortlessly blending into the surroundings as she expertly framed her shots. The desire to approach her tugged at your heart, but the fear of intruding upon her private moment held you back.

Moments passed, and just as you were about to resign yourself to admiring her from afar, fate intervened. As Wonyoung turned her gaze in your direction, your eyes met, and a spark of recognition flickered in her eyes. A friendly smile graced her lips, leaving you both flustered and elated.

Summoning every ounce of courage you might have had, you decided to use the opportunity. You approached Wonyoung with a warm smile, expressing your admiration for her talent and the impact her music had on your life. To your surprise, she welcomed your presence, her genuine charm shining through.

The conversation flowed effortlessly, as though you were old friends catching up after a long time apart. You discovered shared interests and experiences, and soon, laughter filled the air. The initial nervousness began to fade, replaced by a sense of ease and comfort.

As the afternoon turned into evening, you found yourself engrossed in each other's stories, forgetting the world around you. Wonyoung's down-to-earth nature and genuine curiosity about your life made you feel seen and valued. It was a rare connection—one that transcended the boundaries of fame and allowed two souls to connect on a deeper level.

With the café growing quieter, Wonyoung leaned in closer. "You know, I've had an incredible time getting to know you," she said, her voice filled with warmth. "Would it be too forward to ask for your number? I'd love to continue this conversation. :)"

Your heart skipped a beat, caught off guard by her request. Thoughts raced through your mind as you contemplated the implications of exchanging numbers with someone as famous as Wonyoung. But deep down, you knew that this was a chance worth taking—a moment that could change the course of your life.

A shy smile tugged at your lips as you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. "uh..sure i would love to! wait just let me take my phone" you replied, reaching for your phone to exchange contact information. As your fingers brushed against each other, a jolt of electricity surged through your veins, igniting a sense of anticipation within you.

With numbers exchanged and promises made, you bid each other farewell, cherishing the memories you had created in that café. As you stepped out into the night, the world seemed a little more vibrant, as if Paris itself had conspired to bring two souls together. It was fate!

[riding-the-sunset-bird]

Hello again~!

Last time, we talked about Cove's appearance and what choices influence it, but for this post, we're discussing Cove's warm/moderate/cold traits and what choices add to them. I'll be listing every single instance in Step 1 that affects whether Cove is warm or cold, along with how the game uses that information to figure out what Cove you get in Step 2.

As a bonus, I'll also be showing a few instances from Step 2 as examples/reference of the different types of Cove you can get.

First things first, Cove's appearance has nothing to do with his personality... technically. With or without the Cove Creator, a Cove can have any appearance while also being as warm/moderate/cold as you end up making him.

Now, I say technically because there are options in the game that will influence both his appearance and if he gets more warm/cold, but that's more along the lines of those choices happening to line up (I'll note them when we get there, of course) rather than a personality trait being intrinsically linked to his appearance.

Secondly, warm (affable), moderate (candid), and cold (quiet) are how Cove reacts to things. According to assorted posts from GB Patch themselves:

Warm Cove is more friendly and thoughtful, Cold Cove is more closed off and blunt, or Cove can be somewhere in-between the two. Warm Cove is more likely to make jokes or hold conversations, whereas Cold Cove is more straight to the point and quieter. They'll treat the MC in a similar way to everyone else unless they're particularly close or romantically involved, in which case Warm Cove is more willing to tease the MC/give them a friendly hard time while Cold Cove will more clearly side with/support the MC.

What Cove does to initiate things in his relationship with the MC isn't based on being warm or cold, but what the status of their relationship is and how long they've been in it. Warm Cove will just be more teasing/bold about it, unlike Cold Cove who will be more straightforward/longing. In addition, a Cold Cove will be clingier with the MC and prefers time with them without others (though there will naturally be exceptions).

Moderate Cove is as close to Step 1 Cove as he can be, not gaining any new traits in particular.

Whether Cove is warmer or colder won't largely impact his relationships with important people: only how he expresses his relationship to them.

The tutorial of the game also has its own descriptions of how a warm/moderate/cold Cove works:

A moderate Cove remains straightforward and candid with how he tends to interact with people. A Cove on the 'warm' side can be more polite and personable, might have longer conversations or add in some lighthearted teasing. He's affable. A Cove on the 'cold' side tends to say things more briefly, especially with those he isn't close with, be needier and more serious. He's quiet. It's possible to have him fall somewhere in between, rather than only being at one extreme end or the other. No matter what, Cove is an introvert who is sentimental and tends to get flustered when it comes to romance.

Thirdly, Cove has five states on his spectrum between warm and cold: Warm, Warm-Moderate, Moderate, Cold-Moderate, and Cold. He'll never say something on the warm side of things if he's cold and vice versa. For the most part, the game only cares if Cove is cold (any degree of cold), moderate (not cold nor warm), or warm (any degree of warm), with some variation if Cove is a little less cold (Cold-Moderate) or a little less warm (Warm-Moderate). These are shown on the Cove Creator but can also be done by the player under certain conditions.

The general "rules" of how to get a cold or warm Cove without using the Cove Creator vary. You can't act in only one way and hope to end up with the right Cove.

Again, according to GB Patch, to get a warm Cove you have call him out/scold him, tease or crack jokes with him, and include other people or talk about them when possible. Encourage Cove to do new things or things he might be hesitant about, to be more outgoing, and to be nicer overall. However, if your MC is on the shy side or won't stand up for themself, Cove could also become warm simply because he's being prompted to be more protective/outgoing because you won't defend yourself.

It's the opposite with a cold Cove, where you should be protective of him, affirm his mindset/agree with things he says, speak up for him so he doesn't have to, and try to keep other people out of your personal bubble with him as much as possible. At the same time, abandoning Cove or leaving him by himself can also make him cold in certain circumstances, and a quiet MC could lead to him also being quiet if he gets the feeling that he doesn't have to be loud himself.

Sorry for the ramble, just wanted to get out all possible information since it's far more complicated than changing what Cove looks like. Now, onto the actual internal mechanics that everyone was probably looking for.

How it works in the game's code is a point system. For simplicity's sake, we'll call them Cold/Warm Points and say that we're doing all of this in Step 1.

When you choose an option in the game related to these points, it will add a single (very rarely more) warm/cold point depending on which it was. If you're playing blind, going through more moments in order to pick more options increases your chances of getting a warm or cold Cove, whereas a moderate Cove is more likely if you're only zipping through the game while playing as few moments as possible.

The game will look at the final points you have at the end of a step to decide whether your Cove is warm, cold, or somewhere in the middle. If you have the same amount of both warm and cold points, the game will essentially flip a coin to choose between them rather than outright giving you a moderate Cove.

Having 12 or more points in either Cold or Warm locks you out of Moderate Cove. You'll end up with either a Warm-Moderate or Cold-Moderate Cove from having 12-19 Warm/Cold Points (again, whichever you have more of, or whatever the game decides on the coin flip if the points are even), then are guaranteed a fully Cold/Warm Cove once you have 20 or more points.

If you've ever been confused why you have a fully cold or fully warm Cove when you felt like you'd been doing an equal amount of either, that's why. You likely had 20+ points in either of them and the game threw away your points in the other trait. The game only focuses on which you have more of.

In terms of Moderate Cove, one way to consider it is that the moderate trait is not something to achieve. As stated before, moderate is the closest to Step 1 Cove, so it's the equivalent of doing nothing/keeping Cove as he is. You need less than 12 points in Cold as well as Warm in order to get a Cove exactly in the middle.

It's a balancing act. You still have wiggle room where you're free to choose options you know won't match up to the Cove you want so long as you're watching your points. If you want a fully cold Cove, you can choose as many warm options as you want so long as you make sure that you have more cold points in the end.

All the props to anyone who has the dedication to read all of these, by the way, because these are all the chances you have to make Cove warm/cold.

Step 1 - Prologue

The MC first meets Cove and is asked how they know his name (if you agreed to help Cliff):

"I met your dad." [warm +1]

"I'm all-knowing!" [cold +1]

"Lucky guess." [warm +1]

The MC first meets Cove if you chose to run away from Cliff:

"Who are you? I've never seen you." [warm +1]

"What's your name anyway?" [no change]

You waited for him to say something. [warm +1]

Cove asks if poppy hill is owned by the MC:

"Yep." [no change]

"You can't own a hill." [cold +1]

You shook your head. [warm +1]

Cove vents to the MC and says that he wants his real life and mom back:

"I'm sorry..." [warm +1]

"Your dad seems kinda nice." [warm +1]

"You'll like it here, you just have to get used to it." [cold +1]

"Stop crying." [cold +1]

Cove tells the MC not to call out to the parents because he doesn't want to go back to his house in Sunset Bird:

"You can handle it." [warm +1]

"You have to go." [warm +1]

"Don't worry so much." [warm +1]

"Sorry, I have to." [cold +1]

"It will be okay!" [cold +1]

Cove apologizes and says that he still doesn't want to go:

You called out yourself. [warm +1]

You waited silently with him. [warm +1]

You tried to convince him. [cold +1]

Cove points out one of MC's pictures and says he likes it:

"Me too." [cold +1]

"I drew that!" [warm +1]

"Thank you." [warm +1]

"I don't." [no change]

Cove brings down the MC's box of shells without their permission:

"Great." [warm +1]

"Okay, but be careful." [cold +1]

"You should've asked." [warm +1]

Cove takes one of the shells and says that he thinks it's the best:

"That's my favorite too!" [cold +1]

"I like a different one best. I can show it to you." [warm +1]

"You can take it." -> You insisted. [warm +1]

"You can take it." -> You let it go. [no change]

Cove tries to escape the house after hearing about Shiloh:

"Do you want to break your other arm?" [cold +1]

"Shiloh is the least scary person alive." [warm +1]

"Cheer up. Shiloh's gonna like you." [warm +1]

"Please don't get hurt!" [cold +1]

"I'll come with you." [no change]

"Good idea! Let's go." [no change]

Cove talks about how he doesn't want to see Shiloh because he doesn't know him:

You teased him. [warm +1]

You comforted him. [cold +1]

You encouraged him. [warm +1]

Cove being fearful at Lizzie's comment about the mean grandparents hating kids:

"Only some of them don't like kids." [warm +1]

"Stop saying stuff like that. You're gonna upset him." [cold +1]

"Yeah, they're really bad." [no change]

Shopping

Cove offers to buy the MC a keychain:

"Really? Really?" [warm +1]

"Are you sure...?" [warm +1]

"Hooray!" [cold +1]

"You don't have to." [cold +1]

"I don't want you to get it for me." [no change]

The casual comment MC makes to Cove while Cove is examining his new sand pail:

"Why is your dad always giving people money?" / "Your dad gives out money a lot, huh?" / "Does your dad always give out money like that...?" [warm +1]

"Thanks for the keychain!" / "I really like this keychain." / "Thanks for getting me it." [cold +1]

"Forget it." / "Never mind." / "Nothing..." [cold +1]

Cove's balloon pops and he starts to cry:

You made a joke. [cold +1 on Indifferent, warm +1 on Fond or Crush]

You offered to find Alexander. [warm +2]

"You offered to give Cove your balloon." [cold +2]

"You didn't say anything. He would be alright." [warm +1]

Grown Up

Lizzie asks the MC what they think of her idea of playing pretend:

"Cove said it. That doesn't sound fun." [cold +1]

"I bet we could come up with something else." [warm +1]

"I don't know..." [cold +1]

"I want to." [warm +1]

Lizzie continues to try and convince the MC if they're unsure about participating:

"I'll try it, but that sounds boring." [warm +1]

"Okay, okay, I'll stay." [cold +1]

"Sorry, I have other stuff to do." [warm +1]

You kept hesitating. [no change]

(the game will also add and extra cold +1 if you choose not to participate in playing pretend while on Fond or Crush with Cove)

Cove and Lizzie argue about mansions versus being on the beach:

You'd prefer a mansion. [no change]

Being on the beach was cooler. [no change]

You wanted to agree with Lizzie. [warm +1]

Cove was right. [cold +1]

You were tired of deciding between either of them. [warm +1]

Long Day

MC seeing Cove crying on the street:

Defended Cove. [cold +1]

Took a moment to make a joke. [no change on Indifferent but warm +1 on Fond or Crush]

Accused Lizzie of causing trouble. [warm +1]

Carefully asked about what happened. [warm +1]

Cove and Shiloh talk about their situation with their parents:

You joked about Shiloh's mom getting together with Cove's dad. [no change]

"Even if they're all different, our parents are good in their own ways." [no change]

You didn't say anything. [warm +1]

Sandcastle

MC makes a mansion sandcastle and Shiloh comments on the "house":

"It's not a big house. It's a mansion." [warm +1]

"I guess mansions are just really big houses..." [cold +1]

"Thanks!" [warm +1]

You just looked at him. [no change]

The MC is confused by Cove's story:

"...Okay." [cold +1]

"Why did you want to tell the story if nothing happened?" [warm +1]

"You really gotta get better at telling stories." [no change]

"That was a pretty bad story." [warm +1]

"Thanks for telling me." [cold +1]

Cove asks the MC why Shiloh got upset with him:

"You were being rude to him." [warm +1]

"He's just being a baby." [cold +1]

"You shouldn't make fun of him."

"I don't know. It's just Shiloh." [cold +1]

"He gets embarrassed." [warm +1]

You shrugged at Cove with no answer to give. [no change]

Fireflies

The MC gets the chance to ask Cove if he's joining them for fireflies:

"Cove, are you going to catch fireflies with us?" [warm +1]

"You could come outside with us, if you want to..." [warm +1]

You weren't sure what to say now. [no change]

The MC notices that Cove is lagging behind the group:

"Are you not gonna come?" [cold +1]

You tugged him along. [cold +1 on Indifferent but warm +1 on Fond or Crush]

You walked with him. [cold +1]

You waved at him to hurry. [warm +1]

You ran off. [no change]

A firefly lands on Cove's head:

Shiloh couldn't help but giggle. [no change]

You and Shiloh couldn't help but giggle. [warm +1]

You quietly looked on. [no change]

You shooed the bug away. [cold +1]

The MC catches a firefly and watches Cove fail at one:

You encouraged him to try again. [warm +1]

You told him about the firefly you had. [cold +1]

You made a joke about what happened. [no change]

You did your own things. [no change]

Cove accidentally scares the MC's firefly away:

You scolded him. [warm +1]

You forgave him. [cold +1]

You teared up. [warm +1]

The MC watches Cove fail another firefly (if they chose to sit out further firefly hunting):

You cheered him on. [warm +1]

You scared him. [cold +1]

You waited to see what happened. [no change]

Library

The MC is given the choice of whether to go with Cove or Lizzie:

"Cove's idea is more fun." [cold +1]

"I'll stick with Lizzie." [warm +1]

"I'd rather go exploring." [no change]

"The quiz sounds better." [no change]

Go over to Cove. [cold +1]

Stay next to Lizzie. [warm +1]

(the game will also add an extra cold +1 if you choose to go with Cove and an extra warm +1 if you choose to go with Lizzie)

Ghost

The MC notices a sleepy Cove the morning after choosing not to go outside:

"Cove?" [cold +1]

You made an awkward noise to try getting his attention. [warm +1]

You poked him. [warm +1]

You shook him. [warm +1]

Cove admits that he went outside the night before when the MC didn't:

"Really?! That was brave." [warm +1]

"You did? That sounds like it was a risky idea." [cold +1]

"What did you find?" [no change]

The MC chooses to go outside after hearing the scary noise:

"Did you hear a weird noise?" [warm +1]

"You should be in bed." [warm +1]

"Because what?" [cold +1]

"I'm glad you're here." [no change]

Cove asks if the noise scared the MC:

"Yeah..." [warm +1]

"No." [cold +1]

"A little." [no change]

The MC speculates on what the sound could be from:

"It could be anything." [no change]

"It had to be a ghost!" [cold +1]

"There's gotta be a regular reason for it." [warm +1]

The MC and Cove hear the noise again:

"You stayed frozen to the spot." [no change]

"You took a deep breath to calm yourself." [warm +1]

"You ran to hide behind Cove." [no change]

"You comforted him." [cold +1]

"You offered him your hand." [no change]

"We don't need to be scared." [warm +1]

You focused ahead. [warm +1]

Cove offers his hand to the MC if she gave specific responses:

"You accepted his hand." [cold +1]

"You didn't take his hand." [no change]

"You gripped his arm instead." [warm +1]

Cove complains at the park about his dad's garlic flakes in a jar:

"Flakes might be easier to use." [warm +1]

"It's still real garlic, just already chopped up." [warm +1]

"That can't taste as good." [cold +1]

"We won't need it anyway." [cold +1]

Cove tells a story at the beach about fake teeth he found that his mom took:

"Too bad. Think of the prank opportunities!" [warm +1]

"The right thing to do." [warm +1]

"Gross." [cold +1]

"Way stranger than the stuff I've seen." [warm +1]

"Still not as strange as things I've found." [cold +1]

The MC speculates on the type of story she and Cove would be in while they're at the park:

"It's a horror story." -> "You stopped." [cold +1]

"It's a horror story." -> "You kept the tale going." [warm +1]

"It's an action story." [warm +1] {note that this will put on Step 2 Cove's left pink beaded bracelet}

"It's a fantasy story." [warm +1] {note that this will put on Step 2 Cove's left pink beaded bracelet}

"It's a documentary." [cold +1]

Cove complains about his dad never being happy with him:

"You sympathized." [cold +1]

"You encouraged Cove to see it more positively." [warm +1]

"You stayed out of it." [cold +1]

"You didn't know how to react to that." [warm +1]

Barbecue

Cove tells the MC about his fish and talks about needing an extra thermometer (if the MC stayed with the parents instead of chasing the kids):

"I'll find one." [warm +1]

"I know all about that. I'll find one." [cold +1]

"I'll ask my moms. Can I help you test it?" [warm +1]

"I'll ask my moms." [warm +1]

"It'll be fine. You don't have to do that much checking." [cold +1]

"I don't think so." [no change]

The MC, Lizzie, and Cove get sprayed with water by a kid at the park:

"Don't spray people!" [warm +1]

You laughed. [warm +1]

"Watch out! He has a cast!" [cold +1]

You pushed her away. [cold +1]

The MC decides to hang back and watch as the kids chase after the water sprayer:

"Go, go!" [warm +1]

You clapped. [no change]

You watched quietly. [no change]

Lizzie and Cove argue over whose choices of ingredients are better/wrong:

"There isn't a wrong choice." [warm +1]

"We all made good choices." [warm +1]

"Same to you, Lizzie." [cold +1]

You sighed. [no change]

Noelani (Mommy) asks Pamela (Mom), Cove, and the MC if they want to get drinks:

You nodded. [cold +1]

"Okay, I'll get all the stuff we need." [cold +1]

"No. I want to help pick the spot!" [warm +1]

"I don't wanna get drinks..." [warm +1]

You considered your options. [warm +1]

Runaway

Cove being surprised that the MC wants to go with him and asks if they don't think it's a bad idea:

"Nope. It's like we're going on an adventure." [cold +1]

"It's not a big deal, right? We're gonna have fun." [warm +1]

"I don't know. But if you're doing it anyway, I should too." [cold +1]

"It might be a bad idea, but..." [warm +1]

Cove gets upset and storms away after the MC tells him that they'll tell their moms what he's doing:

"Come back!" [warm +1]

"You're so stupid!" [warm +1]

"I'm sorry!" [cold +1]

"Please don't go!" [cold +1]

You were frozen from shock. [no change]

The MC goes to look for Cove after being told that he's run away:

"There you are!" [cold +1]

"Are you crazy?!" [warm +1]

"I'm so happy you're here!" [cold +1]

"I've been looking everywhere for you!" [warm +1]

"I knew you'd be here." [cold +1]

You were just as stunned, and it left you silent. [warm +1]

The MC talks to Cove after finding him:

"What are you gonna do now?" [warm +1]

"Are you okay?" [cold +1]

"We should head back now." [warm +1]

The MC tries to convince Cove to go back after finding him and he refuses to go:

"Why not?!" [cold +1]

"How come?" [warm +1]

"Why? Why can't we just go?" [no change]

"You're stupid!" [warm +1]

"I don't understand why you can't go back." [cold +1]

Cove explains to the MC that he's trying to go to his mother's house:

"How are you gonna get to your mom's place?" [warm +1]

"That's such a bad idea!" [warm +1]

This was all just too much, and you started to cry. -> "No. I want to go home." [warm +1]

This was all just too much, and you started to cry. -> "No. I don't feel good." [cold +1]

This was all just too much, and you started to cry. -> "No. I don't want you to go." [cold +1]

This was all just too much, and you started to cry. -> "No. You shouldn't do stuff like this." [warm +1]

This was all just too much, and you started to cry. -> You simply shook your head "no". [warm +1]

"Do you know the directions to your old house?" [cold +1]

"You're being selfish." -> "I was only trying to help." [cold +1]

"You're being selfish." -> "I came 'cause you're my friend and I like you. Don't you like and care about me, too?" [no change]

"You're being selfish." -> "You're horrible." [no change]

"You're being selfish." -> "It isn't just me. You're making everyone upset for yourself." [warm +1]

"You're being selfish." -> You couldn't even reply to him after that. [no change]

Cove denies the MC's claim that his mother won't forget him:

"Everything will be okay if we just go home." [warm +1]

"We can't stay here forever, and we can't go out there. We've gotta go back." [cold +1]

"Then we'll stay out here. I'm not gonna go back." [no change]

Cove non-seriously says that he wants to run away again so he doesn't have to see the people who were worried about him:

"Hey, maybe I should try that." [no change]

"That isn't gonna help." [no change]

"They'll forgive you." [warm +1]

"Please never run away again." [cold +1]

Cove apologizes for fighting with the MC over his running away:

"And you won't do it again?" [warm +1]

"I'm sorry, too." [no change]

You took in his apology wordlessly. [cold +1]

Sleepover

Lizzie brags about "winning" the race with the MC:

"You didn't win, 'cause you were racing by yourself." [cold +1]

"Because you cheated." [warm +1]

"Okay, you won." [no change]

You didn't bother trying to talk to her about that. [warm +1]

Cove debates on where to sit at the table:

"Sit next to me." [warm +1]

"You can sit anywhere you want to." [warm +1]

You stayed quiet. [no change]

Cove is torn about eating the food the MC's moms are serving:

You let your moms handle this. [warm +1]

"I think you would like the pineapple chicken. It's yummy." [warm +1]

"Give me your plate." [cold +1]

"You should try something new." [warm +1]

Cove sighs in his sleeping bag, distressed:

"What's wrong?" [cold +1]

"What was that?" [warm +1]

"Could you be less loud?" [no change]

"Could you be quieter, please?" [no change]

"Stop that." [no change]

MC talks about the storybook that Cove picked up:

"I love the main character 'cause the squire's really brave and funny." [warm +1] {note that this will give Step 2 Cove the white and bright pink jacket}

"It has cool pictures. Some of them even take up the whole page." [cold +1] {note that this will give Step 2 Cove the gray and black jacket}

"Mommy reads it to me. She uses different voices for every character." [warm +1] {note that this will give Step 2 Cove the white and bright pink jacket}

"There's a dragon in it and crazy things happen." [cold +1] {note that this will give Step 2 Cove the gray and black jacket}

Step 1 - Ending

(warm +1 if the MC chooses to go home instead of staying with Cove)

The MC watches Cove skip a rock across the water:

"You can't skip rocks in the ocean." [warm +1]

"What are you doing?" [no change]

You looked for your own rock. [cold +1]

Cove sulks about the cast on his arm:

"When do you get it off?" [cold +1]

"How'd you get it?" [warm +1]

Cove says that he still wants to go home:

"Do you hate it here?" [no change] {note that this will give Step 2 Cove the middle-parted hair}

"This can be your home." [warm +1] {note that this will give Step 2 Cove the fluffy hair}

"It'll be alright." [cold +1]

Cove asks the MC if they're not going to leave:

"Of course." [warm +1]

"I don't know." [no change]

Cove says that he can't see himself feeling better:

You held his hand. [cold +1 and warm +1]

"I can." [warm +1]

"I'll make sure you do." [cold +1]

​

And that's everything in Step 1!

Now, as promised, I'll also give some examples from Step 2 to showcase the different reactions of different Coves depending on the situation (most are obviously on Fond/Crush).

​

Step 2 - Intro (Cove's first appearance where he presents the fruit bouquet)

Moderate Cove

Cove: "This thing was definitely dad's idea. I would've gone for something else. But, if you can't eat it all, I wouldn't mind taking a couple skewers." He smiled, looking amusedly at the gift then back to you. You called that one.

Warm/Warm-Moderate Cove

Cove: "I hope you and your family like this. It's a pretty good gift. I think so, anyway." He smiled earnestly. Cove: "Dad spent a lot of time picking out the best size and design. There were so many options to choose from."

Cold/Cold-Moderate Cove

Cove: "Well. That's everything..." Though he said that, he made no move to go. You could tell he was reluctant to.

​

Wave (after Cove accidentally splashes the MC)

Cold Cove/Cold-Moderate Cove

Cove: "Did that hit you? Sorry." You could tell he really did feel bad that you had gotten caught in the crossfire.

Warm/Warm-Moderate Cove

Cove: "Sorry!" The apology did not come across as especially repentant, as he was practically laughing when he said it.

Moderate Cove

Cove: "Huh? Oh. Sorry." The apology did not come across as especially repentant, as he was smiling the entire time he said it.

​

Family (if the MC chooses to speak to Cove about their adoption story and Cove hugs/touches the MC's shoulder, giving them his sympathy)

MC: You don't have to do this.

Cold/Cold-Moderate Cove

Cove: "Yes I do."

Warm/Warm-Moderate Cove

Cove: "I want to."

Moderate Cove

Cove: "Nobody is making me."

​

Dinner (when Cove walks into his living room and sees the MC talking with his parents)

Warm/Warm-Moderate Cove

Cove: "You made it! Thanks for coming." Cove's voice was unnaturally loud, as if he thought you wouldn't be able to hear him from where you were, only a few feet away.

Cold/Cold-Moderate Cove

Cove: "Hey. Thanks for being here." There was nothing unusual about the words in his greeting. But you could tell something was wrong from the way he looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there.

Moderate Cove

Cove: "...Hi. Thanks. For, uh, coming here." Cove's greeting was unusually stiff. You also noticed that he had yet to say anything to his parents.

​

Road Trip (during the walk through the Redwood National Park)

Elizabeth: "I can't believe our families are actually on vacation together." She threw her arms out, speaking with a genuine sense of bewilderment. Elizabeth: "I would've joked about something like this happening, but now I'm not sure I wanna give them any more ideas."

Warm Cove

Cove smiled at her, even if it was a little awkwardly, and continued walking along.

Cold/Cold-Moderate Cove

Cove ignored her completely and continued walking along.

Warm-Moderate Cove/Moderate Cove

Cove spared her a look but said nothing, and instead continued walking along.

​

Mall (when the MC asks for a sip of Cove's smoothie; Fond only)

Cove smiled softly, and finally, he offered the cup to you. You held the cup in both hands and took a sip. MC: "Thanks."

Warm/Warm-Moderate Cove

Cove: "You're welcome. It was kind of a sacrifice, you know. This is really good." Taking his drink back, Cove's smile seemed to grow bigger. His teasing tone made you grin. MC: "It is."

Moderate Cove

Cove: "This is really good, but I could give some up for you." Cove's smile seemed to grow as he took his drink back. He wasted no time and started drinking it again.

Cold/Cold-Moderate Cove

Cove: "I can't say no to you." He took his cup back still with a tiny smile and got back to drinking it again.

​

Birthday (as the gummy bear toss is starting and people are pairing up)

Cold/Cold-Moderate Cove

He just stared at you expectantly and you knew what he was getting at.

Warm/Warm-Moderate Cove

Cove: "Could we be partners?"

Moderate Cove

Cove: "We're gonna be partners, right?"

​

Summerwork (when Derek is struggling to reach a book that's too high for him to reach)

Warm/Warm-Moderate Cove

Cove: "Do you need help with that?"

Moderate Cove/Cold-Moderate Cove

Cove: "There are step stools. I saw one a few rows over."

Cold Cove

(Cove does nothing at all)

​

Escapade (if the MC refuses Cove's offer to dry off inside his house, not wanting to trouble him)

Cold/Cold-Moderate Cove

Cove: "I want to stay with you."

Warm/Warm-Moderate Cove/Moderate Cove

Cove: "I really don't wanna just leave you out here."

​

Step 2 - Ending (when the MC has the option to hug Cove good-bye)

Warm/Warm-Moderate Cove

Cove hugged you back tightly and his chest rumbled as he laughed.

Cold/Cold-Moderate Cove

Cove took a second to return the hug, surprised. He leaned into you and held on. Then he hovered nearby with a small smile on his face when it ended.

Moderate Cove

Cove hugged you back and broke the hug after a few seconds. He nodded at you and grinned.

​

Ideally, that should be enough to give a rough idea of how each Cove reacts to things if anyone needs it!

I hope this helps everyone understand the code a bit more, or just generally helps out people who maybe want to get a certain Cove without "cheating" via the Cove Creator. This was quite the endeavor to gather all this code because of what I said earlier about it being longer and more complicated than just changing Cove's appearance.

May all your future Coves be exactly as warm, moderate, or cold as you want~

[jolapeno]

trouble keepin' my eyes off you

john 'soap' mactavish x f!reader wc: 4k | warnings: angst, jealous!soap, pining summary: soap has been aware of it for longer than he’d like to admit. each time his eyes land on your mid-smile, each sound of your laughter—all he thinks is, I want this, I want it all with you.  an: prequel to yours to keep and a thousand — and dedicated to @guyfieriii who i adore, and dedicate all my soap too. teehee.

soap masterlist

It’s uncomfortable, the heat. It clings, wraps and drapes over everything, smothering any breeze or fresh air.

The sweat builds on his brow, dripping down the back of his neck, leaving puddles at the base of his spine. Worst of all, beads drop from his hairline, sliding down his cheeks, dropping from his jawline as he runs his hand through his hair.

His hair has grown—the shorter sides having gained some length, beginning to conceal his very deliberate mohawk he had going. Which is another string to the bow of annoyance. It tells the tale of how long they've all been here, sweating, not sleeping, watching and waiting.

But the bow, the real thing which has been grating him is that you’re on the other side of a slightly ajar door, sparring—and it isn’t with him. 

Soap has been trying not to listen. 

But, they’re loud—you are loud. 

Even his attempts of burying it have been futile. He's attempted to recall songs from home. Ones where there’s a scotch or beer in hand, swishing from side to side as his voice cracks as he screams the words—arms around a friend or two. The words which he knows are embedded into his soul—into the very fibre of his being—and yet, you’re making it hard for him to finish a verse, never mind a song. 

He’s tried to focus on the quieter noises. The ones he wouldn't usually pay any fucking attention to—like Gaz tapping the keys of the laptop in the kitchen and the hot breeze trying to brush through the open window. The background noise, never loud enough to cause any impact—but he needs them to. He clings to hope that they will. He practically claws out for them, grabbing them with metaphorical hands—anything to drive the much louder noises away. 

The ones coming from the door he’s forbidden from entering all because of stern words from even sterner eyes behind a balaclava. 

On some level, he understands. 

The whole place is small. Privacy is not something any of you are granted. But, he knows Ghost is trying to provide that for you in this case. Because you, little Squid, rarely ever ask for help—especially from him. 

Gaz, yes. Price, maybe. Even him, occasionally. 

Ghost—never.

But, he’s softened. He has jokes with you, purposefully having chosen to spend time with you on watch. Something rare, and very out of character for a man who initially didn't even show any of them his bloody face.

Soap knows you've done it again. Seeped under his layers, like you did with all of them, weaving your way, making it hard not to instantly take a shine to you.

He doesn't blame Ghost, he understands why. He can see that time was taken making you, carving each element of your personality, creating someone that is both good, clever and funny. You're strong-willed, giving-a-shit attitude is most likely the reason Ghost is helping you—training with you, offering guidance and support.

Handing you fucking praise.

Because he too has caught on to what they’ve all seen. He’s taken notice of how fucking splendid you are, how you’re capable and fucking gorgeous all rolled into one. 

That’s it, Squidlet. Use your—perfect, that’s it, you got it. Atta girl. 

He’s sure he’ll need bleach to burn Ghost’s words from his brain. 

Even if it’s his fault—because he knows he shouldn’t be listening. 

Having created his own personal torture chamber that he’s taken the time to design, construct, and build. Because there wasn’t a table and chairs here before—he moved them here. Choosing this spot so he could be close, just in case. Of what? He's not sure. But he needs to be here, something within him compelling him to be.

Under his jealousy, he doesn’t blame you, and he doesn’t blame Lt either. He knows the two of you can hardly be expected to spar outside, where every pair of eyes could be the enemy. Out there, the air isn't just thick with heat, but tension too.

Apprehension simmers as they come closer and closer to completing the very thing they are here for. 

So, he's sat outside the room. Pretending to be interested in the latest report. Not wanting to move. Twisting and turning his emotions like playing cards, wondering why didn’t you ask him? 

He bristles, chewing the inside of his mouth, breathing heavy, hating it—hating it all. His cheeks burning, coated in sweat as he stares at the words on the page, unsure why none of them are soaking in.

Why wouldn't you choose your lieutenant? That's the thought that gnaws, that sinks its pointy teeth into him. And it makes his bones ache. 

Because he's so close, and yet so far. He almost has you, but not entirely. And it pecks at him, weaves into his insecurities, his need to prove himself—so much so he can’t rid the image of his lieutenant looming his big fucking frame over you. You under him, eyes staring up, lips parted, shredding your clothing for the man who rarely shows his face—

Your groan punches the air. 

A sound he knows is from you being knocked on your arse, but it makes his fingers turn white. The sound so painted with frustration, and tiredness. He can tell—christ, he can even imagine the look on your face that accompanies it. Yet his brain twists it, morphs it, transforms it into something so ugly it almost breaks his heart.

It makes him want to claw at his brain, scratch out the images the tortured parts of himself keeps creating.

Because he knows you’re both sparring, that Lt is likely knocking you down, over and over again—not knowing that you’re stubborn, not knowing he should stop, that you’re running on nothing. 

He’s your lieutenant, yes, but he doesn’t know you. Doesn’t know that you push yourself until you snap and shatter, leaving fragments of yourself in your hands. Pieces he’s tried to help guide back into place when he’s found you, lost and broken in such a way he’s not sure how to glue you back.

But, you didn’t choose him. 

You chose Ghost. 

Asked, practically pleaded with him. 

So, he had to listen—even if he really fucking didn’t want to. He had to take the few sightings of you through the cracked door—the proof that you’re not on the floor, broken, breathing hard with sweat blending with tears. 

Which means he also sees your body sheened with sweat, hair sticking to your face, neck and shoulders, and your tiny, tight shorts. It means he's seeing you looking ethereal, almost too good for this goddamn place.

And it nips at him—fueling his jealousy. It peels at his skin that Ghost is seeing you like this without a filter, without anything getting in the way.

All of it whisking against the vexation of the heat, the fear of failure and the growing tiredness. It makes his knuckles almost crack, his skin almost translucent as his wrists ache from the way he continually clenches his fist. 

He’s down bad. He knows that. 

Soap has been aware of it for longer than he’d like to admit. Each time his eyes land on your mid-smile, each sound of your laughter—all he thinks is, I want this, I want it all with you. 

Not that he says those words. He just thinks them. Lets them swirl around his godforsaken mind until they try to drag him under. 

Sometimes, he can’t even think because of it. The depths of his own thoughts like water, drowning him from the inside, made so much worse by the simple fact—he’s not the one pinning you to the floorboards. That he has barely seen you, spoken to you, been around you since they all landed here.

But Ghost has. His lieutenant has. The same Lt who is funny, witty, and even has his own nickname for you. The one who has height even on him, who is broader, and who your eyes land on immediately when briefs are given out. 

Not his. 

Each time he almost wants to exit the room, his teeth cutting the inside of his cheeks. Instead, he sits and silently stews. Bubbling away like a broth his mum used to make—hoping, waiting to get back to base where things feel easier.

And then, your squeal pinches the air, Soap unaware he's even standing until he blinks.

Then he hears the unmistakable gruff, Manchester twang of “Y’alright, Squidie?”

His heart pounds, attempting to crack his ribs and fly out of his chest. More so as each millisecond ticks on, as they add up into seconds and your voice hasn’t cut through the air—

“Not broken. Winded. But—“ 

You cough. Heavy. Chesty. 

Soap’s mind fighting, urging him to push the door open more and visibly check you over himself. But, he hears movements, feet—boots. 

“And. Stop callin’ me, Squidie.”

“Prefer Squidlet?"

"Fuck no."

"Get up.” 

“Alright, alright,” you hiss, and the floorboard creaks again as you do. “Anyone tell you that you're the worst sometimes, Ghostling.”

Each night, he hopes the air will be easier to swallow. But, each night he wishes, it brings a new fresh hell he feels ill-prepared for.

Tonight, it’s sticky—the air clogged with thick, stubborn heat. There’s moisture, but it’s wrong. It smothers, makes his clothes chafe against his muscles. 

All of it is made worse by you being difficult. You're kind, warm-hearted, and beautiful—but fucking difficult too. Especially on low sleep. Especially when you're woven so tightly, you're going to snap.

He’s heard Price order you to get some fuckin’ sleep—your back against the dingy wall, his palm flat against the wall, eyes close to yours. Soap watched as you lifted your chin defiantly, muttering back, I’ll sleep when you do, Captain. 

Anyone else, he suspects they’d have their neck wrung. Sharing a look with Ghost—one he wasn’t able to translate—as you spit that you'll do the next watch, climbing the stone staircase and the ladder at the top before anyone can argue.  

It reminds him of months ago, when you’d driven yourself to near exhaustion then. Your stubborn, difficultness being the backbone for you not to sleep, something always needing to be done—as if you’re the sole person who can stop all of this and put the world to rights. 

You’ve always taken on so much.

The fire in your chest is both a blessing and a curse. He’s heard Price chew you out for the same reason. You try to do it all, not because you don’t rely on them or because you don’t trust them, but because:

“I care about you, all of you.” 

Soap had been lingering, hanging outside the door of Price’s office when he heard his response. 

“What makes you think you’re alone in that, hmm? You’re one of us, Squid. So, be one of us.” 

When you’d emerged—tail between your legs—it didn’t take a genius to see you’d taken it hard. Not the berating, but the statement; the fact you fit in, that you were cared for.

And, even then you’d tried to shift the emotions dancing in your eyes from him. The mask not slipping down quickly enough, and the smile was not being presented fast. 

“Y’alright?”

He always wondered if you’d have lied if he’d found you one minute later. If you’d have done so because you’d have known he hadn’t seen you undone, exposed—walls at your feet. 

“No. Not… not really.”  “C’mon, lass.” 

It wasn’t the first time, but it was one of his favourites.

He’d held you against him, his sheets over both of your bodies, comfortable silence surrounding the two of you, clothes a welcomed barrier to anything else—as you held him like he was your rock in a storm.

Just like the two of them did on that first mission together. 

I trust you. You know that, don’t you? Course, lass. Be bit awkward if y’didn’t? I mean, I don't do this with anyone else. Sleep with them... like this. I hope fuckin' not. You're special, Johnny. That's all I mean.

Sleep took you seconds later. Gently stealing you from him, breaths turning heavier and body relaxing and moulding around him. 

Soap had found, in that space between reality and sleep, that’s when you were the most free. When your tongue is loosened and your heart is without chains. A side of you he sees in fleeting moments when he’s alone with you, but in a greater capacity like this—when you’re about to leave him for your dreams. 

Now, though, it’s different.

You're weighed down by more than stress and pride, but rocks and fucking anchors. Whether because of the growing casualties or because you missed your bed, because it brought up memories you only ever half told him about.

He knows this because he's overheard Gaz ask you if you’re okay—Soap watching from the sidelines as you lie through your teeth. Something you’re getting better at, somewhat able to control your features, almost a poker face. 

He knows you hate lying, to them at least. Each lie you spit opens a sore inside of you. It’s why he’s not asked himself. Not wanting to give you something else to churn and worry over, knowing it knots your insides and makes you spiral. 

It’s not his turn to keep watch, but he follows you up the ladder all the same. He leans, the air coating his skin, making him already dream about the dribble they call a shower. Because even the rooftop wall is boiling, almost cooking him through his vest and clothes. 

“Talk to me, lass. What’s keepin’ y’up?” 

You don’t look at him, continuing your pacing, eyes trained in the distance. But your breath audibly catches, clearly startled, clearly rattled by his question—his presence. 

“I hate losing.” 

“We ain’t gonna lose, Mari.” 

Your chin lifts, tongue swiping across dry, cracked lips. “I know… we’re the best of the fucking best. But…” 

He knows. 

He’s been feeling it too. 

That thing. Unexplainable. The shadow in the corner, the one which has been haunting and hunting them since the wheels touched down. Sometimes, it’s easy, and sometimes it’s methodical—it’s torturous observing until the perfect moment. And when it’s the latter, it has a way of scratching at sensibility. 

They all have a past. A failed mission that stands out from the rest—one that reminds each of them not to relax, to not let their guard down—what a single mistake can cause. 

Your head turns, the moon casting a shadow across your features, and the hold you have on his heart tightens—nails digging in deep as the muscle tries to thump. 

“Johnny, I’m just so t—“

But it’s stolen, your explanation. 

Heavy boots and a masked face cut off whatever you were about to say. Eyes sitting around darkness, staring from him to you, bouncing, before frowning. 

“It's not your watch, Johnny—"

"—I know—"

"You should get some sleep."

He wants to argue. Almost bloody does, too. 

Wants to dig his heels in, and get you to continue, but he’s tired—his shoulders aching, his eyes stinging.

But, it's your words from another mission that come to mind. The ones from when you’d emerged like a phoenix—fire and smoke behind you as you stumbled into his arms— 

Dunna do that, lass. Scare me. Need to stop worrying, Soapie. I always find my way back. I promise.

So he nods. He leaves. His palms descend down the ladder, half-stopping when he realises he left the window opening pausing.

He's not sure what he’s expecting—if anything at all. A confirmation, maybe? That the girl who drives him mad, has feelings for the more obvious choice. The brooding, big lieutenant who spits army jokes like he has an arsenal of them; the one you spend more time under, even if it’s sparring, than any of the others.

He’s about to move, shaking his nonsensical thoughts when he hears Ghost.

“Y’gotta stop fighting us all, Squidlet.”

“I’m not.”

“You fuckin’ are, and you know it.” 

Silence. Horrid, fucking silence. So much so, his mind begins to fill with images of your bodies moving together, arms pulling the other close, ripping, shredding—

“You’ll be a piss poor shot if y’don’t sleep. Plus, you’re wearing Johnny out.” 

His face flushes, bloody burns in the space between the second floor and the roof.

He doesn't miss you mumble that you’re not. All dismissive. Making his hands grip the spindle of the ladder, releasing a puff of air. 

“If I sleep—“

“The world will keep turnin', trust me.” 

“You almost sound like you care.” 

His heart sinks, drops—and fucking plummets. Because you’re right. It does. It sounds exactly like that. The nickname. The way he’s come up when it’s not even his watch. All of it screaming that it’s something—all flashing lights and loud music accompanying it. 

“Go to sleep, Squidie.” 

“It’s my—“

“Go.” 

He has to move. 

He needs to move. 

Even if he wants to pull you close to him. Even if it feels like you’re slipping through his fingers.

Just like he had done when he first realised how he felt, how he’d been feeling. When he’d almost told you. Rain hammering down, drowning you both to the bone. The two of you sent east, the rest west. Splitting a building each, finding his empty, and telling you as much. Your radio silence still haunted him. His blood thumping in his ears, ripping through each room, doing what he does best—cleaning fucking house. Finding you, bruised, bleeding, your knife in hand trembling under a dead body. The sound of boots drawing nearer to the opening they’d made—

“Thanks, Simon.” 

He blinks in the present. The memory faded into nothing, vanishing like smoke—like it was never even there. Whatever held the last parts of him, snapped. His eyes staring up, pricking with the heat and the moment—stinging, aching. 

You called him his name.

It left your tongue wrapped in intimacy, in care.

He’s unsure how he reaches the bottom of the ladder, his palms closed, fists clenched, nothing else in his head except getting to his room. Crossing the landing, passing the room with the others, only focusing on reaching his own room. The small thing—the cupboard with a single bed he’d managed to cop. 

Everything he's squashed down, rises. They all begin to angrily fuse, mixing with the heat and his pent up frustration that he’s still here—so much so he almost slams the door. Almost.  

His fingers instead press the thin wood into its frame. The click blessing the air like the first strum of a guitar, his heart beating like a drum—and then a knock, one belonging to a smaller hand, calloused, but still soft, the bass that sets the mood. All of it blending, creating a song he's not sure if he'll love or hate.

He knows it’s you. Knows it as he opens the door, watching you stare up at him, sliding your vest from your body, all defeated and knackered beyond belief. 

Deep down, no matter what his brain says—what he hears, what he sees—he at least knows it’s him you choose to curl up to. That when you really need comfort, it’s him you look for. It’s him you pull close until your bodies almost merge into one. 

“Hi.”

“Lass...” 

You look troubled, more weighed down than he really noticed. Not even bothering to hide it, to plaster a smile over the cracks. 

“Can I… Soap, I can’t…” you chew the inside of your cheek, avoiding his eyes as you sigh. 

He tugs on your wrist, pulling you to him. Your body falling into him like it’s weightless, like you’re all attitude and feathers. Bringing you close, holding your head to his chest—almost swaying with you. 

It always starts like this. 

One, long hug. Rooted to the spot. Nothing—not a single thing able to penetrate the two of you. Frozen in a moment no one can ever take. And then, he’ll turn, finding shorts and a different t-shirt, hearing you undress before finding something more comfortable. Sometimes it’s your own, sometimes it’s his. 

And fuck, when it’s his. 

Your wicked, but sleepy smile is a picture for sore eyes and one he wishes he could take a photo of when you wait for his invite, as if you ever need one to climb into his bed.

Your bodies slide against the mattress. Usually, the springs protest, but the cot you’re sharing just groans in frustration as both of your sets of limbs find their place. 

It should feel awkward, but it never does. He shouldn’t crave this, should be able to sleep solidly without a person on his chest. But, he finds he sleeps better with you. Finds that dreams are easier, that there’s more sunshine, more hope and fucking rainbows in the world when you’re on top of him, softly breathing. 

“Night, Mari.” 

He waits. 

Your usual sleepy ‘Soapie’ or ‘Johnny’ blessing his ears. But none come, none. And he almost tenses, almost moves you to see your face. 

“You… you don’t mind that we do this, do you?” 

His hand tilts your chin up, staring into those eyes, begging them to give him a reason—either to close the gap or begin the process of getting over you. Something. Anything. 

Because how could he mind this, when he wants something more? 

He’d ask for it too. If he weren’t afraid. The big demolition man scared of losing you, of losing this, by being greedy and wanting more. 

“Neve’, lass. I like being the person y’come t’when you need somethin’.”

He doesn’t miss the smile. The soft one. The one which you rarely show, but is bloody beaming for him now. 

“It’s only you, Soapie,” you say, curling tighter into him, leaving no space. 

And it takes all of his control. 

Thoughts of his great-aunt with her harsh accent and wiry moustache to be able to pull you closer. Your head on his chest, fingers dancing up and down your arm as he feels you relax, muscle by muscle. 

“Only me, y’say?” 

You let out a soft breath, one that dances warmth over his t-shirt—almost over the hair on his chest. “You’re an idiot, Johnny. Course it is, who else?” 

And he smiles. 

Not at his name, not at the insult, but the fact you’re falling asleep—something you’ve not done for two full days. And it’s on him. 

Only him. 

He buries the rest of your words. The ‘who else’ and the instant answer that appeared on the tip of his tongue. He can unpack it another time. 

There’s something about waking on top of him. Clothes are a horrid, but necessary barrier between the two of you. 

You don’t want things to change, for them to spoil, to wilt and fade from grasp. So, you’ll put up with only having this, having him in this way. At least then, you'll always have arms around you that you know won’t hurt you. You’ll accept the hugs, and long for the cuddles; you’ll settle for sleeping alongside him, rather than with him. 

And, you won't tell MacTavish that you think he’s handsome, no matter how much he dares you to drink. That even asleep he is beautiful, even minus the evidence of his smile, and the dimples you wish to trace with your fingers. He’s still everything, without being anything. 

He’s your best friend, your safety, your person. 

He feels like home, a soul that grounds you and keeps you rooted. He makes you better, helps you grow and—

Your fingers draw a circle on his chest. Watching his lashes flutter, his eyes slowly opening, and your throat going dry—like it does each time he looks at you with so much softness. 

I think I’m in love with you, Johnny. 

That’s what you should say. 

Instead, you say, “Morning, Soapie.” 

READ NEXT PART

[couldyouimagine-that]

I'm So Sorry

Genre; big angst, hurt/comfort

Word count; 2.1k

Warnings; canon typical violence towards the reader (by Lucifer – but Gabriel fixes you afterwards)

Pairing; Gabriel (Supernatural) x Reader, Lucifer (Supernatural) x Reader

Gabriel and Lucifer have a fight and Reader attempts to comfort Lucifer to disastrous consequences.

Well this one got away from me! This is not how the story was supposed to go and fear not, part two is coming soon!

Masterlist

-

Lucifer and Gabriel had been fighting. Not physically, not in a shouting match, but quietly – viciously. About why Lucifer was truly cast out of heaven, what he had inflicted upon humanity just to prove to his father he was right. Sympathy for the devil was a strong phrase, but you could understand Lucifer’s feeling of betrayal. Of course, that didn’t make up for everything he had done since. Lucifer had turned away from Gabriel after a particularly harsh – honest, but harsh – comment that Lucifer couldn’t handle being treated as the second-best Chuck truly believed him to be. The angle had meant that although Gabriel couldn’t see, you were able to watch a single tear track down Lucifer’s cheek before he furiously wiped it away. He hit back with something quieter, less meaningful, then stormed out of the room. Gabriel stared after his brother’s retreating back, expression stoic, but you knew he was hurting too.

You knew that caring about both of them was dangerous, it didn’t take a genius to work that out. The most retaliation you would expect to get from Gabriel were harsh words, arguments, at most perhaps losing him as a friend. Lucifer, you weren’t so sure. You watched as Gabriel turned away, arms crossed, gaze skating aimlessly over the surface of the library’s main table. Saying nothing, you made your way to the kitchen and wasted a few minutes in there to give them both a chance to cool off. You had bought a box of Gabriel’s favourite candy a little while back and figured you might as well give it to him now, even if he could summon a lifetime supply of it himself with a snap of his fingers. Their family drama was millennia in the making and you knew full well there was nothing you could do about it, but with Sam and Dean out on a hunt, you wanted to see if you could attempt to smooth things over after this latest fight.

Gabriel was still more or less where you had left him, still silent and unreadable. Sure that he knew you were there, you walked over a placed a hand on his shoulder, just saying hello. You already knew he wasn’t okay and whatever he answered to that question, you wouldn’t have anything useful to say back.

“Hey, sugar,” he muttered, forcing on a smile for your benefit. You returned it sympathetically without saying a word, but then put on a goofy grin as you revealed the box of candy, shaking it a little for impact. You received a mildly amused scoff for your effort as Gabriel took the box off you and read the curly writing on the lid. He sighed heavily, letting you pull him into a side hug.

“I’m sorry,” you said, knowing it didn’t matter but not knowing what else to say. He just shook his head, hugging you back and leaving a quick kiss on the top of your head.

“It’s Lucifer. It’s nothing new.”

You just stood there together for a few minutes before you told him you would be back in a few, heading in the direction in which Lucifer had disappeared. You were sure you hadn’t missed the note of apprehension on Gabriel’s face.

“Sweet cheeks, I know you don’t need me telling you what to do, but I know my brother. You don’t want to be around him when he’s like this, trust me.” You had to work to convince him it would be okay, that you were just going to check on Lucifer and would leave afterwards. You told him you wouldn’t get into a situation where you could get hurt, but it was clear he didn’t believe you. Eventually though, he relented. “Alright, but remember if you need anything, I’m right here. I mean it, okay? Something goes wrong, you pray to me and I’ll be there.”

You appreciated his concern, though it had certainly helped to make you more nervous. This wasn’t the first time you had checked in on Lucifer after some kind of altercation had taken place, but it had never involved his brother before. And you had certainly never seen something upset him enough to make him cry.

He didn’t answer the first time you knocked on the door to the room that he had taken as his own, but you were persistent. You knocked again, calling his name until you got a response.

“What.” Even that sounded threatening, his voice low and controlled.

“It's just me… can I come in?”

You decided to take the lack of response as a yes, gingerly pushing open the door in case you were wrong. He was faced away from you, standing on the opposite side of the room staring at the wall. You were sure he wasn’t actually seeing it though. You shut the door softly behind you, stepping a little closer but still keeping a good distance from him. You had no desire to be disintegrated just because you didn’t stay far enough back.

“You wanna talk?”

It was at that point you should have heeded Gabriel’s warning and left. Lucifer’s back was ramrod straight, nothing remaining of his normally relaxed posture. What you could see of his face seemed darker, emotionless. It reminded you of when you had first met him, when he had first taken Nick as a vessel but was trying to persuade Sam to say yes to him in time for the biblical end of days. He usually made the effort to be a little playful for you, even if he was upset.

When he still didn’t respond, you threw your previous caution to the wind and took a few hesitant steps forward. You walked slowly, gave him time to tell you to back off – but he didn’t. You supposed you had made the mistake of behaving as if the being before you was anything other than the devil himself.

When you got to him, you placed a gentle hand on his shoulder as you had done with Gabriel – and he reacted as if you, nothing more than a human, had tried to threaten him with something as lowly as a steel blade against his throat. He spun around on a heel and backhanded your arm so hard that you felt something in your wrist snap. Your cry of pain was drowned out by Lucifer’s scream. It sent a clear, high-pitched ringing through your ears, deafening you to everything else. His eyes blazed crimson, his wings lay thrown upon the wall in shadow from the angelic light pouring out around him and for the first time, you got a glimpse of the creature you were really dealing with.

His blow had been powerful enough to send you staggering back across the room with enough force to slam into the opposite wall. Your ribs groaned from the impact and you struggled to even remain upright, your wheezing filling the space around you as you tried and failed to draw breath. You knew you were winded somewhere in your mind, but your panicked attempts to claw for air were automatic. Lucifer’s wings flared wide in shadow as he stopped screaming and instead bared his teeth, striding towards you at a terrifying pace. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, your hands trembling wildly where you held your wrist tight to your body. You could hardly hear, you could barely breathe, and the pain in your wrist was excruciating, travelling through your hand and up your arm. You pressed your body back against the wall as hard as you could out of reflex and absolute terror, Lucifer getting closer and closer until... Gabriel. The devil’s steps seemed to slow down as your mind began to spin, finally coming up with a coherent thought.

Gabriel. Gabriel, Gabriel, Gabriel –

And lo and behold, you were blinded instantaneously by a searing angelic light which separated you from Lucifer. You closed your eyes to the onslaught and when you were finally able to open them again, it was gone. The archangels were gone. You were alone, your ragged breathing the only sound to be heard. Your knees finally gave out and you slid down the wall to the floor, hardly daring to do more than glance at the unnatural angle of your wrist. You didn’t move, straining to hear anything through the ringing in your ears to decide if either of them were still in the bunker. It was when you looked down to observe the state of yourself that you realised your entire body was shaking. You got your breathing in order, did your best to blink away the lights in your eyes then forced yourself onto your feet, realising that when Lucifer eventually did come back, this would be the first place he went.

Spurred on by the thought, you reached your own room relatively quickly. You huddled atop your bed, back to several pillows and still clutching your wrist. You weren’t ashamed to say that you held an angel blade in your uninjured hand. It wouldn’t kill him, but if Lucifer did come back, it would give you a chance to get away. Whilst you hoped desperately that wouldn’t happen, the minutes dragged on. Your wrist throbbed, you could hear your heartbeat in your ears… You flinched at every sound. And when an angel finally did appear in your room, you yelped aloud like an injured dog.

“Oh my god,” you whimpered out in the split second it took you to recognise Gabriel. He was by your side in seconds, down on his knees and with his open palms raised as if he didn’t know if you would want him to touch you or not. You dropped the angel blade to rest on the duvet beside you.

“Sugar, I am so sorry.”

Gabriel reached for you slowly, only resting a hand on your arm to heal you when you didn’t move away. You drew in a deep breath, your pain gone and your senses returned to normal. But any attempts to thank your saviour went unnoticed. He was up on his feet and pacing immediately, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. He refused stubbornly to make eye contact with you.

“I can’t believe I let you go. I can’t believe I let you go to him! What was I thinking? How could I have been so stupid? You're a human!”

You failed to get his attention by saying his name, so you drew yourself up to standing and physically interrupted his pacing when he turned back around.

“Gabriel, stop,” you told him, hands on his shoulders as you tried to make him listen to you. “I’m okay, you got to me in time. It’s okay-”

“Of course it’s not okay!” You swallowed as he released an exasperated sigh. "He could’ve killed you – no, actually I’d say he was going to kill you.” You had been terrified, more so than you could ever recall having been before, but you didn’t think it was quite that dire. “Y/N, he was playing with you like a cat with a trapped mouse! If I hadn’t gotten there…”

But you did was apparently not enough to satisfy him. He brought his hands up to your arms, smoothing his palms up and down them in distress. He told you he didn’t know where Lucifer was when you asked, which you supposed gave you a little time to level out. Then again, it also meant the threat of the devil's return was hanging over your head. Becoming calmer now, you began to notice the state Gabriel was in. The shoulder of his leather jacket was torn, he had a gash and a blooming dark bruise across one cheek. He had transported them both to Chuck knew where and if what happened with you had been Lucifer’s reaction to just a hand on his shoulder, you didn’t like to think what he had done to Gabriel when they landed.

“Are you okay?” The archangel looked like his head was about to explode.

“Are you kidding? I'm not the one who-”

“Gabe.” Maybe it was the informality of the nickname which had given him pause, or maybe your tone of voice. But he held your gaze properly for the first time since he had reappeared, his voice lower and calmer.

“I’m fine.”

That was good enough for you. You nodded, sliding your arms up around his neck and breathing a sigh of relief when his own wrapped around your waist.

“You’re shaking,” he muttered, palms moving restlessly along your spine. But then he allowed himself his own sigh. “Come on,” he murmured quietly, and a snap of his fingers brought you into his own room where he had a long couch and a widescreen TV ready to play whatever you chose.

You didn’t know how long the two of you sat there in silence, but you were more grateful for the company than you were able to put into words.

[ahqkas]

hii! can i maybe request some headcanons/blurbs for arthur morgan and charles smith having a girlfriend who has chronic pain in her hands? on days my flareups get bad, all i want is some comfort and i just know these two would help their gfs through it so well. thank you!! <3

LOOKING OUT FOR YOU ; arthur morgan & charles smith

PAIRING! arthur morgan x gn!reader, charles smith x gn!reader

NOTES! hi ml, i’m sorry if i got smth wrong, i don’t have any experience or know people with the experience of having chronic pain , lmk if i messed it up so i can fix it !!

RED DEAD REDEMPTION 2 MASTERLIST!

ARTHUR MORGAN’S NATURAL INSTINCT IS TO PROTECT.

when arthur first learns about your chronic pain, his reaction would be one of concern and and strong urge to protect

he’d ask you questions about it, the tone of his voice gentle and quiet to not frighten you as he listens attentively to you describing your pain and its impact on your daily life

arthur would be mindful of your needs, always thinking of you first at any given situation. taking over your chores at the camp that would put stain on your hands to assisting you with any personal tasks you might have (he would do that all without any complaints !!!!)

in moments when the pain flares up, there’s nothing that would keep that man from you. he’d sit beside you, holding you gently, his large hands resting lightly on yours (he’s such a big man), providing you with warmth and comfort

he’d talk to doctors, herbalists, and anyone else he meets on his way who looks like they might know about the subject

arthur’s words would be a source of comfort. he’d speak to you in his soft, gravelly voice, offering reassurances and reminding you of you strength. “We’ll get through this together, I promise.” his steadfast presence and unwavering support would be a constant reminder that you’re not alone in your struggles

the outlaw would find ways to distract and cheer you up. he’d tell stories of his adventures, share his thoughts, or simply sit in comfortable silence, allowing you to rest your hands in his. he’d take you on gentle rides, the steady rhythm of his horse’s gait a soothing backdrop as you enjoy the peace of the open plains and colorful skies

Arthur Morgan knelt beside the campfire, his rugged features softened by concern as he gently took your hands in his. Your eyes were misted with pain, and he could see the toll it was taking on you. With a tenderness that belied his rough exterior, he began to massage your hands, his touch light and careful.

“I’m here, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice a soothing rumble. “We’ll get through this together, you and me.” He brushed a stray lock of hair from your face, his gaze steady and reassuring. “You’re stronger than you know. And whatever you need, I’m right here by your side.”

As he continued to soothe your aching hands, Arthur’s presence provided a comfort beyond words.

CHARLES SMITH IS NATURALLY GENTLE AND ATTENTIVE.

he often massages your hands with herbal balms he’s learned to make, using his knowledge of natural healing to provide you with some sort of relief. his touch is always careful, mindful of your pain

charles is more on the quieter side, understanding that sometimes words aren’t necessary. the man often sits with you in silence, offering his calm soul as comfort. he holds your hands lightly, providing warmth and reassurance without needing to speak

he’s quick to adjust daily routines to accommodate your needs. he takes over tasks that require more of motor skills or strength, from chopping wood to preparing meals, ensuring you don’t strain your hands unnecessarily

charles is highly protective, especially when your pain flares up. he keeps a watchful eye on you, making sure you’re comfortable and has everything you need. his protective nature extends to ensuring others in the gang respect your limits and he often sets up a peaceful space for you to relax, by the river or under a tree, where you two can sit together. he brings your favorite books or tells you stories to distract you from the pain

charles takes the time to learn about your condition and adapt his approach accordingly. he’s always seeking new methods to help alleviate your pain, whether through herbal plants, new techniques, or advice from healers and doctors

Charles Smith knelt beside you, his eyes filled with quiet concern as he gently took your aching hands in his own. He began to massage them with a soothing herbal balm, his touch tender and precise, knowing exactly where you felt the most pain. "I’ve got you," he whispered, his voice a low, calming murmur. "Just relax and let me take care of you."

As the pain slowly eased under his skilled hands, Charles leaned in closer, pressing a soft kiss to your head.

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified.