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soaps-mohawk · 27 days

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 34: The Whole Truth

Summary: In life, we will be confronted with difficult choices. Sometimes you won't know you've made the wrong choice until it's too late

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 12,582 words

Warnings: Dead dove: do not eat, Angst, graphic violence and torture, mentions of predatory behavior towards a minor, Phillip Graves is a major creep, lots blood and injuries, kidnapping and its aftermath, hostage situations, anxiety and panic attacks, language, very explicitly described torture, ‘mega gets hit a lot, choking, biting, ‘mega gets stabbed with an ice pick, author can’t write COD missions, vomiting, lots of heavy emotions, detailed descriptions of pain, guns, background character dies on screen, descriptions of guilt and grief, lots of POV changes, some descriptive language of gore and blood at the end, rehashing of ‘mega’s injuries from the last chapter, a lot of angst and very heavy content, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe

A/N: This chapter deals with some pretty heavy content. Please, please, please read and heed the warnings. I have included content warnings for the more graphic parts before they happen, so if you don't want to read those, you can skip ahead to the next part. I suggest taking breaks if you need to, read it in installments if necessary. And I cannot stress it enough, please heed the warnings.

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“Hi darlin’.” His grin widens like he’s happy to see you. “Been a long time.”

You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, your brain still sluggish. You feel sick as you try to process, try to figure out why and how. You try to move your arms again, but your wrists are stuck, hands burning as you pull. You desperately want them free, desperately need them free.

“Easy,” Phil says, putting his hands on yours, pushing them flat against the arms of the chair. They’re warm and calloused, the same hand that had been on your face a few moments ago. “You’re gonna hurt yourself. More than you already have been.” He lifts your left leg, making you groan quietly as a deep ache throbs down to your foot and up to your hip.

Running. A gunshot. Pain.

“He had strict orders not to harm you.” Phil says, adjusting the bandage wrapped around your calf. “Don’t worry. We got you all fixed up.” He sets your leg back down gingerly, his touch lingering for a moment before he looks back up at you.

“Why?” You croak out, trying to make sense of what happened.

Corporal McKinney broke into the barracks and chased you into the woods. He shot you and drugged you and now you’re here, restrained in a chair staring at a man you haven’t seen for years. A man who was once your dad’s best friend.

“A lot has happened since we saw each other last.” He says, pushing himself to stand. “I left the Marines after a few years, formed my own group of military contractors. Invited your dad to join, but you know how he is. All honor and duty and serving the country. Of course, you haven’t seen him in quite a while, have you?”

You stare up at him, starting to get scared. You never liked Phil. There was always something about him that put you off. He always stared too long, always sat too close to you. He always greeted you with a hug that lasted too long, squeezing you too tightly against him. He was sweet on you in a way he wasn’t with anyone else. He could be intense, brash and almost downright rude sometimes. He was a firm believer in traditional packs too, even if he never spoke about his own pack, his own omega. He had to have one, if he was as dedicated as he said.

He was far too much like your father.

Phil was always kinder to you, though. Softer. Not quite as callous and bellicose as your father in public. He was polite, always happy to lend a hand, always glad to roughhouse with your brothers to get their energy out. You saw the way your mother looked at him though. Perhaps her apprehension bled into you, those dormant omega instincts picking up on something she was projecting.

He made you uncomfortable, and she knew it.

What could an omega do, though, in a world where they don’t have opinions, they can’t argue, they can’t disagree. Your mother never said anything because in the world your family existed in, the world Phil existed in, she couldn’t.

“He was so angry when he called.” Phil continues, staring down at you. “Ranting and raving about how his oldest daughter betrayed him by presenting as an omega. He couldn’t stand having such a useless child in his perfect pack.” You flinch at his words, even though you heard your father spew those very words after your presentation firsthand.

“He called you?” You ask, the pieces starting to come together as your brain finally snaps fully into awareness. You knew he called someone, but you hadn’t thought it would ever be Phil.

“Of course.” Phil chuckles. “We were good friends, pals, buddies. He knew I could help him.” A shiver runs down your spine. You know what he’s going to say next. “So I did. I have some contacts in some high places, people who owe me favors. So I made some calls, pulled some strings, got you into FIOT immediately, with some strings attached of course.” He leans down so you’re almost face to face. “I wanted you. They put a note in your file. You wouldn’t be placed in the registry when you were old enough, you would go to me and my pack.”

Bile churns in your stomach as you process his words. It all makes sense now. The stares, the hugs, the closeness with your father, your rapid enrollment in an institute that can take weeks to process applications. It was all so you could be his. Something he’s wanted from early on.

“You would have been mine,” He pushes himself up straight again, starting to pace back and forth in front of you. “If the fucking CIA hadn’t gotten involved!” You flinch as his voice raises, the frustration starting to darken his scent. “They froze your file, made the claim null and void. All for what, their little initiative that never really existed in the first place?” He huffs out a laugh, a smirk tilting his lips. “Small world, though. Who knew we’d be seeing each other again after so long.”

He steps closer, looking down at you. You hold his gaze, suddenly feeling afraid. Even though you know him, even though you spent a good part of your childhood around him, you’re afraid of him right now. Your mind starts to revert back, the urge to lower your eyes, break eye contact like you’re supposed to flashing through your mind.

Don’t stare alphas in the eyes. They’ll take that as a challenge. It’s not your job to challenge them. Your job is to be subservient.

You would have been subservient to him if the CIA hadn’t gotten involved. You would have been under his control, bowing to him and his will. You’d have pups by now, at least one. He’d always talked about having a big pack with lots of pups someday, always glancing at you when he said it.

You’re going to vomit all over him.

It’s not just the truth that scares you, though. You’re being held captive here. That thought has registered in your mind now, the reality settling in as you get over the shock of the last few minutes. Corporal McKinney kidnapped you from base, and now you’re restrained in a chair surrounded by unknown alphas. Phil isn’t going to help you, take pity on you. He’s not here to be nice, to have a little chat and catch up on life.

That possibly ended as soon as he was denied what he wanted.

His hand cups your chin, holding your face up as he looks down at you. His thumb is rough as it strokes your jaw, a tickling feeling starting in the back of your mind again. There’s an almost bittersweet look in his eyes as he holds your gaze. You refuse to lower it, refuse to give him that satisfaction. “You’ve grown up a lot.” He says, his hand sliding down your neck to the collar of your shirt. “You always were cute, though. I knew early on you were going to be an omega. You were far too...calm and compliant compared to your brothers. Always so polite and eager to please. You can tell if you pay attention, you know. Those dormant instincts start to show themselves long before presentation.”

His hand pulls your collar to the side, revealing your mark. His eyes harden as he stares at it, his lips turning down into a frown. A shiver runs down your spine as the darkness in his scent intensifies. He’s not holding you hostage just to tell you about what could have been, what direction your life might have taken. He’s here for a reason, and you know your pack is involved. Something has happened, something behind the scenes, something John was looking into.

“What’s going on?” You ask as he releases your collar, taking a step back.

“Well, you’re being held hostage.” He says, like it isn’t already obvious. “You’re...shall we say...leverage to ensure your pack follows orders.”

You blink at him. You haven’t heard from or spoken to your pack in weeks. You should be relieved that they’re apparently still alive, but what if you had been right and they don’t want you anymore? Why would they take you if your pack has abandoned you? Or did they take you to ensure they wouldn’t...

“Laswell stuck her nose somewhere it shouldn’t have been.” Phil says, crossing his arms. “It’s only so long before your pack finds out. Let’s just say...they’re not going to be happy about it. So, to ensure they don’t do something impulsive and reckless as they are known to do, you’re going to play hostage.”

You gulp as you stare up at him, suddenly feeling very afraid. Your scent spikes in the air, clouding it with the bitter scent of anxiety. It was the plan all along. You knew it even if you hadn’t been told outright. Deep down you’ve always known it wasn’t about strengthening packs. It wasn’t about studying how an omega would increase or decrease the efficiency of military packs. With the events of the last few months, the idea had started to form in your mind. You know you weren’t alone in those thoughts. John and Simon were digging into the cameras for a reason. They were put up for a reason.

It was always about control.

That was the point of the initiative. That was why they put cameras up, that was why General Shepherd was so invested in the state of your pack and if you had been mated. He needed to ensure you were close enough to them so if something happened that wasn’t supposed to, you could be used against them.

You’re nothing more than leverage.

Your scent spikes in the air, clouding the room as reality sinks into you. Something happened that caused this. Something called your pack away to isolate you, to leave you vulnerable. They wanted you alone as a contingency.

Something did happen.

Now you’re here, being held captive by a man you used to know, a man who could have been your alpha had things not played out the way they did. The thought has your stomach churning. How far will they go? How far will Phil take things? Could he be merciful because of your history? Or will his ruined plan make him more ruthless?

You’ll be punished for something you can’t control.

Phil makes a soft sound as he looks at you, shaking with fear in the chair. “Don’t be scared. As long as your pack does as they’re told, I won’t have to hurt you.” He turns the light back to face you, nearly blinding you. “Now, smile for the camera.”

They’re safe.

It had been close. A rough position to be in, but they managed it. He never doubted them and their abilities, but four against nearly fifty with no backup were not good odds. He’s been in tighter places before, and while he had his doubts, he is grateful Johnny and Simon were sent in when they were. Even if it was a bit suspicious.

“All accounted for.” John says as he sinks down onto one of the jump seats next to Kyle.

They’re all battered and bruised from their final fight. He’s ready to get home, ready to get back to you. From the sound of it, things were not going well, according to Johnny and Simon. He has a lot to make up for, a lot of apologies to make.

“Fucking Russian PMCs.” He says, speaking to Kate over the comms. “It’s not a coincidence Kate.”

Kate lets out a sigh that crackles through the comm. “No, it’s not. My team and I came across some information while we were digging into the cameras.”

“What information?” He asks slowly and carefully. He doesn’t like being kept in the dark, especially when it comes to his pack. Especially when it comes to you.

“Not just information on the initiative, but information on General Shepherd.”

“What information?” He asks again, slower this time as Johnny and Simon move in closer.

“Shepherd was the one that sold those weapons to AQ and the Russians.”

John looks at the other three members of his team. He knew something was wrong, something was off about the way Shepherd had acted while informing them about this mission. “He wanted those missiles found and destroyed so he could cover his own ass.” He says, his stomach starting to twist. He doesn’t like the way this is going.

“But we found out the truth before you could find all the missiles.” Kate continues. “He sent you on a wild goose chase to give himself a chance to escape.”

John’s hand tightens into a fist. “Where is he now?”

“He’s gone dark. Totally off radar.”

John pushes himself up to stand, the adrenaline pumping again. “I’m going to find that bastard-”

“John.” Kate says, cutting him off. “There’s something else.”

The twisting in his stomach intensifies. There’s a bad feeling tickling in the back of his mind. He doesn’t want to entertain the dark thoughts that are brewing. “What?”

“They took your omega.”

His stomach clenches, his breath catching in his lungs. The other three shift on their feet, all of them stepping closer. The scent in the plane thickens, anger and confusion mixing into a toxic cocktail. He hopes he heard that wrong, that there was some kind of interference in the connection and his brain made up the words he missed. “Repeat that.”

“They took your omega.” Kate says again.

He lets out a long breath, his muscles tensing. He’s had a bad feeling tickling in the back of his mind for the last few days. Something was wrong, something was off. He should have known it was all a ruse. Why would AQ and the Russians store a missile in any of the places they had been sent to in the last week? It hadn’t made sense, and he had wanted to voice his doubts, but the consequences of a missile being launched because they decided not to look in one place was greater than his own perceived doubts.

They had been right though.

Of course it had all been a plan. Of course there had been something fishy about it. He’s hardly ever wrong. He’s been praised on his instincts on the field and off. He should have known. Pulling Simon and Johnny when they did should have been enough evidence, even if they had been needed in the end.

“You’re positive?” He knows she is. There’s no mistaking something like that, there’s no doubting it.

“There’s a video.” Kate says, John’s stomach dropping. “I’m sending it to you now.”

John pulls out his phone, his fingers white as he holds it up. He’s angry, beyond angry. If they’ve laid a hand on you...if you’ve been hurt because of his own failings, his own inability to see the truth...

He clicks on the video when it comes in, a familiar face popping up on screen. “Hi boys. Been a while.”

“Fucking Graves.” Johnny growls, his hands closing into fists in anger.

“I have a little something of yours I think you might be interested in.” He turns the camera around, your face popping up on screen. You’re restrained in a chair, wrists red from the zip ties, but there’s a glare on your face, looking as mean and threatening as you can. There’s a bruise on your cheek and what looks like a healing cut on your lip. Someone hit you.

“Smile for the camera.” Graves says, a bit too cheerfully.

You don’t smile, your glare sharpening as the camera gets closer to your face. There’s still fight left in you. Whatever has happened hasn’t been too bad. Yet.

“Let’s make this simple.” Graves says. “You stay away from Shepherd, and I won’t have to hurt this pretty little face. She is pretty, isn’t she?”

You shift in the chair, your leg lifting before you kick outward.

“Ow, you little bitch.” The camera jostles for a moment before it’s straightened back up, a hand shooting out to wrap around your throat. There’s no sign of any struggle, the glare still prominent on your face. “Feisty thing. Gotta keep up with those wild boys somehow.”

The hand tilts your face just slightly, showing the mark on your neck. It is you, not that John doubted that from the beginning. It may have been almost two months, but he wouldn’t forget your face that easily.

“Like I said,” Graves continues. “Follow your orders and she’ll be released unharmed.”

The screen goes dark and John resists the urge to throw his phone. He shoves it back into his pocket, turning towards the wall of the plane. He throws his fist against the metal as hard as he can. It hurts, but he can barely feel it over the rage burning hot in him.

“Fucking Shepherd!” He shouts, rearing back to throw his hand against the wall again.

Graves has his omega. Graves has his omega and now you’re being used as leverage. They’re all being played like puppets.

A hand catches his fist before he can punch the wall again, easing him back. “Easy.” Kyle says, trying to soothe him as best he can. “We have proof of life, we know that she’s alright for now.”

“For now.” He growls, looking around at the members of his team. “But for how long?”

“They knew we’d go after Shepherd as soon as we learned the truth.” Simon says. “This has been in the plans for a long time.”

“They’re trying to get us to make a choice. Focus on getting our omega back while letting Shepherd escape, or go after Shepherd and let our omega be tortured.” Kyle says.

“Those fuckin’ wankstains.” Johnny says, shifting on his feet. He’s angry, the bitter scent filling the enclosed area of the plane. They’re all angry, angry at those responsible, and angry at themselves for falling for it. “They were usin’ us the whole time.”

John lets out a long breath. It’s a hard decision to make. Go after Shepherd and cut the head off the snake, or go after you and let the person orchestrating all of this escape. Graves won’t stop, even if they do manage to take out Shepherd. He has his orders, and he will follow them, with or without Shepherd pulling the strings.

There might be a second contingency. They kill Shepherd, you die too.

No matter what, you won’t be safe. If they go after you, Shepherd escapes and if they try to hunt him down later, he’ll use you again, or worse. They don’t have to kill Shepherd, though. They have proof he’s a traitor. He can be brought to justice if he’s caught. Death is too gentle of a punishment for what he’s done. He deserves to rot in prison for the rest of his life.

They have to make sacrifices for the good of the world.

“We’re going after Shepherd.” He says, taking a deep breath. “None of us will be safe if we don’t.”

“That’s dangerous, John.” Kate says. “We don’t know how far Shepherd or Graves will take this. You know how Graves is. He may not be able to be stopped, even if Shepherd tells him to.”

He takes a second to breathe. His pack is silent, all three of them staring at him, waiting for him to make this decision. He is pack alpha, he is their Captain. They do what he tells them to do, follow his orders no matter what. Kate is right, this is a risk, but sacrifices have to be made. Hands have to be dirtied to keep the world clean.

He just hopes you’ll forgive him.

“We’re going after Shepherd.” John says definitely.

“This is a bad idea, John.” Kate warns him.

“It’s the only option we have. They’re trying to draw us away. It’s a risk we have to take.” He can see the apprehension on his packmate’s faces. They’re all feeling it, the drive to go after their omega, but deep down he is right. They’ll never be safe until Shepherd is taken care of. Going after Graves only removes one small piece of the puzzle. The job always comes first.

“Get us locations, places he might try to dig in and hide.” He says, heading towards the cockpit. “We’ll find this arsehole and kill him ourselves.

***

Kate lets out a sigh as the comms close off. It’s a mistake. She knows it is. The guilt is eating her alive. She fell for this, she brought you into this, and now you might get hurt because of it. How she didn’t see the reality has shame burning through her. They were all blind, all led astray, all fooled by the red herring.

There was never an initiative. It was never about strengthening packs. It was always about control. They wanted a way to control packs. Shepherd knew if the secret ever came out, there would be no stopping the consequences. Legal or illegal, retribution would come for him if the truth was revealed.

This was his way of stopping it.

That's why the 141 were the guinea pigs.

They are the most dangerous threat to Shepherd, and he handed them a way to control them under the guise of strengthening packs, experimenting on how their dynamics and efficiency would shift with an omega added in. Even worse, they all fell for it.

John is making a mistake. Graves won’t stop so long as Shepherd knows they’re coming after him. The last thing she wants is for you to get hurt because of their decisions, their mistakes. Shepherd won’t order Graves to kill you. That’s too much of a risk. It would give the 141 nothing to lose, and that would put them at their most dangerous.

Will Graves listen to that order?

She can send out a team to get eyes on Graves, find his position at least. That way, if things do take a turn, she’ll at least have a direction to point them in.

They were all too trusting and ignorant. You’re innocent in all of this.

It’s her fault.

They’re going to need help.

Christine can’t sit still anymore. She can't take it. It’s been almost eighteen hours since your disappearance and there’s been nothing. No word, no news. She knows you’re alive. Kate had confirmed that, but that hasn’t eased the burning questions eating away at her mind. What is your current state? Who took you and why? Where is your pack and are they even aware of what’s happening?

She’s been sitting and twirling her thumbs. She can’t bring herself to do any paperwork, any research. What is there to do besides sit and worry? She doesn’t have a patient to take care of because she lost the one she was supposed to watch.

She huffs out a breath, pulling her phone out of her pocket and dialing Kate. If Kate won’t call, she’ll call herself. Kate’s probably busy though, so Christine can’t blame her too much for not calling. She’s probably so far from the front of Kate’s mind right now.

The phone rings twice before Kate answers, sounding tired and disheveled, just as much as Christine feels.

“Laswell.”

“Kate, I need to be there.” She doesn't hold back, doesn’t try to make small talk. There’s no time for it. She knows how Kate is doing, and it’s not great.

“Christine, I don’t know if I can take that risk.” She says.

“I need to be there. I can't take sitting around here anymore, and when you find her, she’s going to need someone she knows there, someone that knows how to take care of her.” Christine lets out a breath, the relief of getting her thoughts out taking some of the weight off her shoulders.

Kate sighs, but she has to know Christine is right. She’s not sure what state you’re in, and depending on how bad it is, and where your pack is, you’re going to need her. Even if you think she was behind this. “I’ll have a plane ready to go in thirty minutes.”

“Thank you, Kate.” She says, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Don’t miss the flight.”

Christine hangs up, gathering a couple things from her office before closing and locking her door. She nearly runs to her barracks, packing a bag quickly. She’s not sure what to bring, or how long this will take. She’s not even sure exactly where she’s going.

She hurries to the airfield, phone in hand. She’s not sure where the plane is or which one she’s taking. She’s just relieved Kate is doing this for her.

Her phone buzzes as she reaches the tarmac, making her puse. She lets out an annoyed sigh before answering the call.

“Of course you have to call at the worst possible moment.” She says.

“I’ve always had the worst timing.” Alex’s voice comes through the speaker, and she can almost hear the smile on his face.

“I can’t talk long. I’m about to board a plane.” She says.

“I know. We’ll pick you up on the tarmac.”

She blinks in surprise. It’s been years since she’s seen her brother, months since she’s spoken with him. Ever since he retired from Delta Force, his regular calls have been happening less and less, and they’ve reached near radio silence over the last couple years. Now he’s involved in this too?

“Kate called in a favor.” He continues, and that’s all she needs to know. “We’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Yeah.” She says, tears brimming in her eyes as she smiles. Despite everything, she’s glad she gets to see her brother again. Glad she has some support in this. Your pack will be mad. They’ll blame her. She’s not afraid of them, but she knows Alex will stand behind her no

**Content Warning: light torture, ‘mega gets punched, further injury to previous injuries, panic attack**

Your hands are starting to go numb. The constant attempts to free yourself from the zip ties isn’t helping, but you’re beginning to get twitchy. Your omega is scratching at the back of your mind, begging to be free, but you know you won’t survive it. The room is full of armed mercenaries, and you’re sure if you tried to take out Phil first, you’d be pumped full of bullets before you could even do any damage.

He’s leaning against the wall far too casually, staring at the phone he’d used to record the first video of you. His explanation had been simple. Your pack stops going after General Shepherd, you don’t get hurt. The longer they chase Shepherd, the more Phil gets to torture you until they decide your life is worth more than Shepherd’s.

Will they choose you over Shepherd? What if they’ve already decided to abandon you? What if your fears were right and they’ve given up, and that’s why they were gone so long? They won’t care what happens to you, if they have written you off as a burden, as a loss. They’ll let Phil torture you to death and they won’t even blink an eye. You’ll just be another casualty.

It makes your stomach hurt, the idea of your pack letting you die. Even the idea of someone who had once been a friend of your family being so cold towards you has nausea bubbling in your belly. He doesn’t care. His only worry is money, not the past. He doesn’t care. He’ll do the bidding of whoever offers the highest price.

He lets out a sigh, pocketing his phone as he pushes himself off of the wall. “Looks like your boys don’t follow orders well.” He bends down, putting his hands on his knees so he’s face to face with you. “They’ve decided to leave you here with me. Looks like Shepherd was wrong. They don’t really care about you as much as everyone thought they did. Makes me sad, them abandoning you so easily.”

You try to ignore his words, try to convince yourself he’s doing it on purpose, trying to mentally break you. Yet you can’t deny those words play exactly into your doubts, your fears. Have they really left you here, choosing Shepherd over you? Would they decide to do that? How easy had that decision been made?

Tears blur your vision as you stare up at Phil, your eyes burning as you try to put on the bravest face you can. You won’t let him have the satisfaction of knowing he’s getting to you, playing into your fears.

“Unfortunately, that means I have to hurt you.” He stands up straight, staring down at you for a moment before pulling his fist back, hitting you across the face.

You see stars for a moment, your head snapping to the side. The left side of your face is numb, the taste of metal flooding over your tongue. You’re bleeding, blood pooling in your mouth. A hand grips your chin, pulling you back so you’re sitting up straight in the chair. You stare up at Phil, the fear fading away to anger as you glare up at him. Your face is throbbing, and you know it’s going to swell and bruise later, more than it already has thanks to Corporal McKinney.

Traitorous bastard.

They all are.

“I do feel bad for hurting that pretty face.” He says, stroking your jaw with his thumb.

The movement is impulsive, the anger becoming too much. You spit the blood in your mouth in his face, the droplets splattering across his skin. He turns his head away for a moment, bringing his other hand up to wipe at the blood.

“That wasn’t very nice.” He says, looking down at you.

“Fuck you, you fucking creep!” You yell, kicking at him with your bad leg.

He releases your face, catching your leg easily. He pushes his thumb against the bullet wound, all the fight leaving you as pain tears through your body. You let out a scream, trying to pull your leg away but he won’t let you. He holds his thumb there as you scream, the tears streaming down your face.

“Okay, okay please! Please stop!” You beg, the pain radiating up into your hip and side. You can’t take it anymore, your brain starting to go fuzzy as you hyperventilate.

He releases your leg, his hand wrapping around your throat to lift your face. The tears are streaming down your cheeks, mixing with the blood from the cut on your cheek. There’s no sympathy, not even regret in his eyes as he stares down at you.

“I don’t want to hurt you, but if you can’t behave, I’ll have to do just that.” He releases you as you continue to hyperventilate, your eyes starting to glaze. You’re distressing. Will Phil help you? Will he do what he has to do to keep you alive? If you die, there won’t be anything stopping your pack. The entire plan will be over. They’ll go after Shepherd, then they’ll hunt down Phil.

Cold ice water hits you in the face, shocking you back into clarity. Phil is holding the cup of water he’d been letting you drink from periodically. You blink at him as water drips into your eyes, your breaths hitching but far slower than they had been. You’re awake and aware now.

You didn’t even know it was possible to do that.

“Don’t distress on me now.” He says, putting the cup down. “We have so much ahead of us.” He moves around to the back of your chair, bending down until his breath hits your ear. “Besides, you make me help you out of distress, I might not be able to stop myself.”

Your eyes pinch closed as his lips brush the shell of your ear before he stands back up, tears mixing with the icy water still sliding down your face.

Christine nearly runs down the ramp once the plane has stopped on the runway. She’s jet lagged and worn out after eight hours of worrying, but she’s eager not only to finally get some news on you and your status, but to see her brother for the first time in a long time.

It’s not hard to find him.

“Chrissy!” He grins, hugging her tightly.

She has half a mind to complain about the nickname she’d endured her entire childhood, but she can’t find it in her as she hugs her brother tightly. She’s missed him, more than she realized. Their jobs have kept them busy, her with her medical studies and practice, and Alex with...whatever it is he does.

“It’s been far too long.” She says, pulling away from him. She’d love to stand there and hug him for an hour, but she can’t. They have more important things to do. Time is of the essence, if her worst fears are true.

“A lot has happened, a lot has changed.” He says.

She looks him over, spotting the more noticeable changes in comparison to the last time they were face to face. “You could say that.”

“We can talk about it later.” He turns to the other person with him, a woman. “Christine, this is Farah.” He introduces her. “Farah, this is my baby sister Christine.”

“Nice to meet you.” Farah says, shaking her hand.

“You as well.” Christine looks between them for a moment. She knows that look in Alex’s eyes as he looks at Farah.

“We should get moving.” Farah says, ignoring him.

“Laswell has moved off the grid.” Alex says, opening the driver’s side of the SUV.

Smart, if things are as bad as she thinks they are.

Christine gets into the back, letting out a long breath. She’s closer now to finding out what’s happened to you. The guilt is still eating her alive. If she just hadn’t left, if she hadn’t believed the phone call, put it above your safety.

Things might have been worse if she had stayed.

“Kate filled us in about everything.” Alex says as he drives away from the airfield. “At least in regards to the pack and your involvement.”

“There’s some things she’s not telling us.” Farah says. “Though if things are as bad as they sound, I don’t blame her.”

“I don’t know much of anything.” Christine says, staring out the window as they drive out of the city. “I feel like it’s my fault. If I hadn’t left her alone...”

“It’s hardly your fault.” Alex says, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. “If this was all planned, there wouldn’t have been anything that would stop it from happening.”

“They might have done worse if you had stayed there.” Farah says, speaking Christine’s own fears aloud.

“I wish I could see her. Make sure she’s alright.” Christine says. “If something happens to her...”

“From what I hear she’s a hardy omega.” Alex says, trying to comfort her. “She’s withstood a lot. She can survive the 141, she’s probably giving them hell as we speak.”

**Content Warnings: light torture, choking to the point of almost passing out, blood, very detailed descriptions of pain, non-fatal stabbing**

It’s getting hard to breathe. Phil’s grip around your throat is getting tighter and tighter, less and less oxygen getting to your bloodstream and your brain. Your mouth has an almost permanent metallic taste as blood drips down your chin. Blood stains Phil’s arm from where you bit him, teeth marks red and angry looking from where they broke the skin.

“You fucking bitch.” He growls, jaw clenched. “Your alpha should have taught you some manners.”

His hand squeezes tighter, cutting the air off entirely. You begin to panic, tugging against the restrains with your raw, cut up wrists. Black dots begin to dance in your vision, your legs straining against the zip ties keeping them attached to the chair. Your hands and feet are going numb, your entire body tingling. This is it. You’re going to be choked to death.

He holds his hand there for a moment, letting you struggle before he lets go and you suck in a gasp of air. You slump over in the chair, blood splattering on the floor as you cough, your throat raw and sore. Tears burn in your eyes as you heave, trying to get the oxygen flowing through your body again.

Phil bends down to your level as you sit there, head hanging as blood drips from your mouth. Your tongue is raw from how many times you’ve bitten it. It’s impossible to tell how much time has really passed. There’s no windows in the room. The only light source is the cracks around the door behind you. Even then with the bright light in your face constantly, it’s hard to tell anything anymore.

“Feisty still, but everyone has their limits.” His hand cups your chin as he stands, lifting your face to follow him. His hand holds the back of your head up as he wipes at the blood under your nose and on your chin almost gently.

Tears stream down your cheeks as you stare up at him, unable to even care anymore that his hand is so close to your neck. All he has to do is move it down just slightly and squeeze and you’ll be unaware of anything around you, at the mercy of his bidding.

That would almost be a relief.

He dumps another icy cup of water over your head, keeping you from slipping too much into a panic. The cold water stings the cut on your chest and the one on your arm as it slides down your shoulders. You’ve lost the ability to feel the throbbing in your calf, numb to most of the pain in your body.

Why haven’t they come for you? Where is your pack?

Have they written you off for good? Was finding Shepherd more important than you?

Phil’s phone goes off, your stomach dropping. He stares at the screen for a second before turning back to you.

You shake your head, the tears cascading down your cheeks. “No,” You start to shake. “No, please-”

“You know I have to, darlin’.” He moves behind you, tugging on your hair to keep your head up as one of his men stands in front of you with a phone in hand.

He counts down on his fingers before pressing record.

“Seems you boys still can’t follow orders. Your omega sure wishes you would.” Phil says as he reaches around your head, holding your chin in his hand. He tilts your head back making you look up at him. “Don’t you, darlin’. Tell them. Tell them how much you wish they’d follow orders.”

You’re still crying, unable to stop as you stare at the camera. They really have given up on you. They’ve deemed you unworthy of saving. They’ve let you sit here and be beat up and tortured all because they put the job first.

They really have given up on you.

Are they even watching?

“Please,” You croak out, half begging your pack to care, half begging Phil to have mercy.

“Since you can’t seem to bring yourselves to care about your own omega,” He shifts slightly, someone handing him something behind you. You catch a glint of metal, your heart rate picking up. You’re panicking, breaths coming in shaky gasps. You know he can do worse. He’s threatened worse, but what is he going to do? “It seems you need a little more...motivation.”

You try to wiggle out of his grasp in panic, wrists bleeding again from tugging at the zip ties. They’re coated in your blood, your leg throbbing but you don’t care. You need to get away, get free. “No, no-”

You let out a scream.

It’s sharp and piercing, but nowhere near the sharp pain in your neck. It fires through your very nerve endings, making you aware of the very cells in your body. It shoots up into your brain, igniting every neuron in your brain. Your very blood feels like it’s boiling, your skin on fire from the pain. Every inhale feels like you’re breathing in sand, and every exhale is like glass shards dragging through your lungs and up your throat. The tears streaming down your face may as well be slicing through layers of skin, every wound pulsing and throbbing with a new kind of angry vengeance.

You’re sobbing, nearly choking on air as the pain continues to pulse in your body. It’s too much, every sensation inside and outside of your body meshing together in an agonizing harmony.

“Shhh.” Phil tries to shush you as he bends down, his cheek resting against the side of your head. “I know, I know. You’ll be alright.” He presses a kiss to the side of your head before letting you go limp in the chair.

Your scream still hangs in the air even after the video ends.

It’s otherwise silent in the room, all eight of them feeling the weight of their decisions on their shoulders. The scents in the air are full of pain and regret and guilt and anger.

“Was that fatal?” Kate asks, breaking the tense silence.

“No.” Christine chokes out, her voice shaky. Her hands are trembling where they’re tucked against her sides. Her arms are crossed over her chest, trying to bring herself some kind of comfort after what she had just watched. “He went for the scent gland. It’s not a fatal injury, unless you go too deep, but he knew what he was doing.” She swallows the lump in her throat. “It’s just incredibly painful.”

Her words hang in the air for a moment, all of them still trying to process what they had just seen.

John slams his hands on the table, all of them jumping. “I fucking told you.” He says, his voice laced with the deep growl of his alpha. “I fucking told you Kate, she should have been flown out here as soon as you made the call.”

“I know.” Kate says, undeterred by his anger. She’s seen it many times, though she’s rarely been on the receiving end of it. “I know, I made a bad call. None of us knew they would take it this far.”

“But we knew something was going on behind the scenes.” John says, still radiating anger. “All precautions should have been taken.”

“There was no guarantee her being here would have stopped them. She might not have been any safer here.” Kate says, trying to ease his anger, even though she knows it’s completely warranted. “This goes far deeper than we thought it did. Even before this plan was set into motion.” She waits a moment, letting the air settle. “A year ago, a convoy was smuggling missiles and other weapons into the Middle East in an off-the-books operation. The convoy was attacked and the missiles and arms were stolen by a Russian PMC group. The operation was conducted under the command of Shepherd, and the soldiers in the convoy were all Shadow Company.”

“That’s how Graves is tied into this.” Kyle says.

“It goes deeper than that.” Kate says, pulling up a file and displaying it on screen. “The missiles and weapons being smuggled weren’t being sent to aid allies in the Middle East. Shepherd sold them to AQ and the Russians. The PMC group that attacked Shadow Company was hired by Shepherd to make it look like an ambush.”

“Fucking weasel.” Simon growls.

“I don’t know how much Graves knows, or how much he helped hide the entire operation, but his ties to this go even deeper.” Kate says, and they all shift closer. “Graves has history with your omega.” She says, pulling up an old photo. “We combed through one of her brothers’ Facebook pages. Found an old photo of her dad with Graves. They served on the same base when her family lived in Texas before Graves left to join MARSOC. She would have still been a child at the time.”

They stare at the photo, Graves clearly identifiable as he stands next to another man, beers in their hands. There’s two other boys in the photo, young and grinning at the camera. Standing in front of Graves is a little girl, a happy grin on her face. They’re all in various combinations of red, white, and blue.

4th of July, they assume.

“That’s how she got into the institute so fast.” John says, staring at the photo. He’s never seen a photo of your father before. You must take after your mother. “Graves pulled the strings.”

Kate nods. “He did, but under the condition he would be the one to claim her when she grew old enough. The CIA wiped out that claim when they froze her file.”

The 141 all shift on their feet, sharing looks. John feels a sick twisting in his stomach at the implications. Your position in the photo suddenly makes sense. Anger burns in him, deep and bubbling like magma. He’ll kill the bastard.

“This is revenge then.” Johnny says.

“In a way, I think.” Kate says. “We took away what he wanted. Graves wasn’t going to pass up this opportunity. He’s not afraid to get his hands dirty.”

“This all is what the initiative was created for.” Christine says, leaning against the table. “A contingency in case this all was uncovered.”

“A way to control us.” Kyle says.

Kate nods. “Yes. It was all a plan to give the 141 a weakness, a way to be controlled should the situation arise. In this case it just so happened to be the uncovering of his traitorous arms deals.”

“We were all pawns in this.” Christine says.

“We let them walk right in and take control like that.” John says, turning to Christine. “You let them walk in and take our omega.”

She turns to face him, undeterred by his agitation and anger. “I did what I thought was right at the time. I got a call from one of the front desk workers in the med center saying that someone was waiting in my office for me.” She explains. “They wouldn’t say who it was, and the whole thing felt off. I knew whoever would be visiting me was not going to be friendly, so I felt it was safer to leave her in the barracks than take her with me and risk something happening in a place she doesn’t know well. In the barracks at least she’d know places to hide and barricade herself.”

She takes a deep breath, still facing down John fearlessly. He’s coiled tight like a spring, ready to jump at any moment should he deem it necessary. It’s those protective instincts, the knowledge that his omega is somewhere else, taken unwillingly and being tortured feeding into that need to fight.

“My office door was open when I got there.” She continues. “I always leave it locked. I went in prepared to fight, but I was attacked from behind. Hit over the head and drugged with something fast acting, something that would keep me incapacitated long enough for him to strike.” She stares up into his eyes, projecting her scent just a bit to try and get him to calm down. “We all made mistakes here, things we thought were the right choice at the time.”

She’s not wrong. They all know it. They had just seen proof of it.

“The assailant?” John asks, turning back to Kate.

“Corporal McKinney.” Kate says. “He was in Shepherd’s pocket from the start. Someone who could watch first-hand. Someone who could sneak into the barracks unnoticed without many questions. He was likely the one that put the cameras up.”

“Fucking wanker.” Simon growls. “He approached her once in the mess. Early on. Tried to introduce himself to her. Backed off as soon as I intervened. Never tried again, at least that we know of.”

“She never mentioned him.” Christine says. “Or anyone else on base that might have tried to approach her.”

“Where is he now?” Kyle asks. They’re all angry, frustrated. How had they not seen this happening?

“Local police tracked his car to an abandoned airfield not far outside of Hereford.” Kate says. “He was dead inside. Police ruled it suicide.”

“I’m sure it was.” John says.

They all know it wasn’t.

“Shadow Company likely picked her up from there with orders to stage a suicide.” Kate says.

“One less loose string to worry about.” Simon says. “Covers their tracks in England.”

They all go quiet. How this had all happened right under their noses? They’re all guilty of falling for it, for being too trusting in a world they know they can’t be too careful in. Allies can turn on a dime and become enemies. Betrayals can be easily bought. Things can turn downhill within a blink of an eye. They’re supposed to be prepared for the worst, ready for every possibility.

They had written this off as a conspiracy, and now their omega is paying for it.

“We need a plan.” Farah says, breaking the silence.

“We can’t let Shepherd get away.” John says.

“We cannae just leave her.” Johnny argues against his alpha. It’s a brave thing, considering his alpha’s current mental state.

“I don’t know how much more she can take.” Simon backs his beta up, the desperation and pain on your face still visible in all of their minds.

“Let us go after Shepherd.” Alex says, offering up a solution. “He’s obviously watching for you to come after him.”

“We can move undetected.” Farah agrees. “He’s less likely to expect us. You need to focus on your omega. Shepherd will show himself again eventually.”

“Do we have a lead on their location?” Kyle asks, turning back to Kate.

She nods. “We do now. I sent a team out to try and track location through the videos and where they were being sent from.” She pulls a map up on screen. “We have a location.”

“Texas.” Alex says.

“He took her home.” Christine says.

“We have a plan then. We go after Graves, Farah and Alex start tracking Shepherd. Kate is eyes in the sky for us.” John says.

“She’s going to need medical attention as soon as possible.” Christine says. She looks at Kate. “Where is the nearest military base from their location?”

Kate types on her computer. “Naval Air Station Joint Reserve Base in Fort Worth.”

“Get me there and I’ll be waiting. She’s going to need someone she knows.” She says, looking at John. “She’s not going to just let anyone close to her after this. She may not even let you close.”

John stares down at her for a long moment. She stares back unflinchingly. She doesn’t get intimidated easily, not after years of dealing with institutes and alphas alike.

He lets out a breath, staring down at her for a long moment before he nods. “I trust you.”

“Short reunion this time.”

“I’m just glad I got to see your face again.” Christine says, looking up at Alex.

“Things are...complicated.” He says. “Maybe after all of this is over we can go and get some coffee. Talk about our lives...as much as we can.”

The corner of her mouth twitches up in a smile. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Alex pulls her into a hug, holding her tightly. “You’re doing good work, Chrissy.”

She shakes her head at the nickname, but she holds him just as tightly. “I’m trying to.”

Alex pulls away, squeezing her arms. “I’d say you are. You care a lot. To the point some might call it a character defect.”

She scoffs, slapping his chest playfully. “Not like you’re much better.” She glances at the car where Farah is waiting patiently. “I’m happy for you.”

“Oh, we’re....” Alex blushes to his ears. “We’re not...”

She gives him a look. “Mhm sure.” She looks up at him one more time. “Be safe.”

“As best I can.” He says. “Take care of yourself. Don’t be too hard on yourself either.”

“I try not to be.” She squeezes his hand before stepping away.

She watches the SUV drive off, stomach churning with nerves for both of them. Shepherd is dangerous, but Alex has fearlessly faced down danger since he was a kid. He’s always been brave and determined, loyal and unafraid to do what he thinks is right no matter what. She trusts him to take care of himself, she trusts Farah to help him, even if she only met the woman today.

She trusts them both to take care of each other. She trusts them both to help put an end to this.

**Content Warning: Blood, vomiting, 'mega forces herself into a panic attack**

Your body aches, muscles screaming. You can’t take much more. Your cheek throbs painfully, swollen to the point you almost can’t see out of your left eye. The pain burning from your neck makes the other pain in your body nearly irrelevant, nearly nonexistent. It’s like electricity, burning through your very cells. Every movement seems to make it flare, makes the electric shock jolt through you. The burning pain that follows makes you whimper, a pathetic choking sound squeaking out from your bruised throat.

The pain makes you nauseous, vomit staining the front of your shirt and pants. It’s mostly bile and the little food you’ve gotten since your kidnapping.

Nutrient bars, meant to keep you fed and nourished for a short period of time.

You may never be able to eat them again.

“Fuck.” Graves curses, staring at his phone. “They’ve backed off.” He steps up to you, looking down on your pathetic form. “Looks like your boys do care about you after all.”

Do they? Are they really coming for you, or have they simply given up chasing Shepherd because they lost all their leads. Will they come for you, or will they leave you here to rot? What will Graves do then? Try to take you as his own omega? Kill you out of anger?

Your stomach churns and you can feel the bile rising.

You vomit again, the warm liquid splashing into your lap. You can’t lean far enough anymore, not without the risk of not being able to pull yourself back up, not with the pain burning your every movement. You can’t even lift your head anymore, your body weak and battered and bruised. There’s blood everywhere, on you and on the floor. You can still taste it in your mouth, mixing with the sourness of bile.

Graves gives you a disgusted look before turning to the others in the room. “Duran, Lewis, keep watch. The rest of you come with me.”

He leaves the room for the first time in what you assume is days. For once the cocktail of scents begins to disperse, all but two of the alphas finally disappearing. Where they’re going or what they’re going to do, you don’t know. You can’t bring yourself to care either way. You just want to go home. You want to see your mother again, your brothers and sisters, even your father would be a welcome sight after this. You want your alpha, you want him to hold you, to take you in his arms, keep you safe.

He abandoned you. He left you to suffer like this.

Your breathing picks up as you sit there, chin to chest as you stare at your bloody shirt. The smells in the room are awful, the scents no longer there to block out the sour bile and metallic stench blood. Tears are streaming down your cheeks, pink tinted splatters dripping onto your pants. What are you going to do now? What are they going to do to you now? Will they keep you alive long enough for your pack to arrive then kill you in front of them? Will they torture them too, make them watch as the life slowly leaves your eyes in revenge for chasing after Shepherd?

A sob rips through your sore throat up out of your lips.

You just want to go home.

You just want to be free.

You can be.

Distress. The final defense. The last ditch effort omegas have to save themselves. Distress will lead to your omega taking over, and if nothing else, a quiet death you won’t even realize is happening. Your body will give out and you’ll be safely tucked into the back of your brain, comforted by your instincts. You won’t have to worry anymore. You won’t have to care.

If nothing else, the pain will be over.

I’m sorry.

You begin to breathe heavier, ignoring the pain in your body as you push yourself to hyperventilate. The alphas behind you might do something, might try to stop it. They could, but would they even know how? Would it even work if you got too far? They’re not your alpha. They can’t comfort you, bring you back from the edge without forcing you. Will they even bother?

You tilt your head to the side, putting pressure on your injured scent gland. You sob at the pain, the burning flowing straight into your very cells, making them scream. You push through it, your wrists twisting against the zip ties, digging them further into your already damaged wrists. The pain pushes you to a point of panic, your heart rate through the roof. You can feel it, the tightening of your muscles, your joints locking into place.

You’ve never done it purposefully before, but in this state, it’s not hard.

They left you. They’ve abandoned you. They’ve given up. It’s all your fault they left. They’re not coming for you. You’re not worth it.

The thoughts send you down the spiral, the edges of your vision starting to go dark. You’re floating away, hands and feet going numb as your wheezing, shallow breaths block the oxygen from getting to your brain. You’re sinking, your body floating as you begin to retreat into the back of your mind. The cage is open, your omega soothing you as you drift off, curling up in the back recesses of your mind.

You’re safe now. She whispers.

There’s no going back.

You’re going to get out.

Even if you have to do it yourself.

The last breath you remember taking is shaky, making you cough before your vision begins to fade to grey, then to black. You’re getting out of here no matter what. You’re going to go to sleep. If you fail, you’ll never know it. Your death will be quick and gentle and you’ll never know it happened until you’ve moved on to whatever is next.

You won’t remember any of this. That’s your only consolation.

Your vision fades to black as all memory and awareness leaves you. The last thing you remember is the snap of the zip ties around your wrists as they break.

“Graves has moved with some of his men to the western building. It’s likely the hostage is being held in the eastern building. Gaz and I will go after Graves. Ghost and Soap will try to secure the hostage.”

“Keller is on her way to NAS JRB as we speak. They’re on standby for medevac.”

“Stealth is our priority. They know we’re here, we risk losing the hostage. Quick and quiet, take them by surprise. The faster we do this, the sooner it will all be over.”

**Content Warning: blood and slight gore, someone gets shot offscreen, some gorey and explicit imagery towards the end**

He’s not unfamiliar with high stakes missions. It’s his specialty. He’s cool and calm under stress and pressure, which is why he gets chosen for them. He can detach easily, get the job done and then go home and forget.

So why are his hands shaking?

This isn’t a high stakes mission, not like one he’s used to doing. The stakes are higher, higher than he’s ever had before. It’s not just eliminating some faceless target, it’s not just rescuing some faceless hostage.

It’s rescuing you.

He hates that you were involved in all of this. He hates that they all fell for it, blind to the truth, blind to Shepherd’s traitorous actions. They refused to entertain those conspiratorial thoughts, and now you’re paying for it. He knows why Price made the decision he did, he understands the logic behind it.

He hated it, though.

How far would Graves have taken it if they had chosen to go after you first. Would things have gotten this bad? Or would he still have hurt you, tortured you just out of sheer anger for what happened between the two of you? He wouldn’t give up just because Shepherd told him to stop. He’s ruthless and uncaring of who he hurts and why. He gets his orders and he completes them, no matter what, so long as whoever is giving those orders can pay a high enough price.

How much did he get for this assignment? How much did he settle for once he learned you were involved?

Far too much despite that fact, most likely. Maybe he should become a merc. Less rules and more money.

It’s not a bad idea.

He lasers his focus on the building as they creep through the trees, moving silently. Two against however many are inside. It was impossible to tell with how many were moving between the two buildings constantly.

He brought the whole squad. He planned on putting up a fight regardless.

At least they have the element of surprise on their hands.

“We move silently through the building.” He says as they approach the door. There’s two guards standing outside. “They know we’re inside, things could go downhill quickly.”

“On you, LT.” Johnny says, taking point beside him.

“Drop one, I’ll take the other.” He says, aiming at one of the two Shadows guarding the door.

It’s quick and quiet, their bodies slumping onto the damp dirt. Simon scans the area before moving forward to the door. It’s unlocked, Johnny pushing it open slowly to check for a trip wire.

None.

Sloppy, or perhaps on purpose. They can’t be too careful. Shepherd will have let Graves know they’re not on his trail anymore. He’ll be expecting them.

They split up, combing the bottom floor of the building. He takes out two more Shadows, checking every room for a sign of their target, but they find none.

“Second floor.” He says, waiting at the base of the stairwell for Johnny to join him.

“You think she’s in here?” Johnny asks as they creep up the stairs, careful not to make too much noise.

“Well, we’ll find out.”

It’s far too unguarded to where they’re holding you. Graves will have assumed they’d split up. He must have moved most of his men to the western building to put up as much of a barricade as possible. He can picture Graves standing there, the smirk on his face as he holds a gun to your head. Will he take that risk, shoot you in front of them and give them nothing to live for? Or will he use a knife, letting you die a slow, painful death in front of them?

Or, maybe he moved them to the western building to make them think that’s where you are. Focus their attacks there so they leave you behind. He gets cornered, he send the word to kill you before any of them can get to you.

More red herrings.

He pauses before he reaches the top of the steps, taking out the shadow standing down the hallway. They split up again, looking through rooms at the top of the stairs, making their way down the hallway.

One of the doors is open, and he silently motions for Johnny. He counts down silently in his head before rounding the corner, rifle up as he scans the room. His stomach churns as he looks inside, taking a couple cautious steps forward. He’s seen a lot of things in his time, done a lot of things, but this is different.

“Screaming Jesus.” Johnny says, lowering his rifle as he steps in behind Simon.

There’s blood everywhere.

It’s coating the floors, leaving a sticky residue as it dries. It’s the room you were in. He recognizes it from the video, and the bright light in the corner is a dead giveaway. The chair in the middle of the room has been broken, the wood of the arms snapped off and splintered. There’s four bloody zip ties on the floor, along with several instruments on the floor including the ice pick.

He wants to shove that into Graves’ eye for what he did to you.

There’s two bodies on the floor, one of them dead in a pool of his own blood, the other choking as blood seeps onto the floor under him. He steps up to the shadow, putting his boot on his chest and pushing. The Shadow lets out a groan, coughing up blood.

“Where the fuck is she?” He growls, staring down at the quickly paling face.

“Fucking bitch went crazy.” He chokes out. “Went running.”

Simon steps back, pulling out his handgun and firing two bullets into the Shadow’s head.

“Price, we found the room.” He says into his comm. “The hostage isn’t here. A half-dead Shadow said she bolted.”

“LT.” Johnny says, motioning to the door, the only other exit from the room. There’s a bloody handprint on the door, one too small to be one of the Shadows’.

“I think she managed to get out.” He says, staring at the handprint. His stomach drops, his hand tightening around his rifle. He glances down at the bodies, throats cut and faces bloody. “I think her omega took over.”

“You and Soap go after her. She’ll do the one thing she knows to do, the one instinctual thing she can do if she has nothing to fight.” Price says. “We’ve got Graves cornered.”

Simon pushes the door open, cool air flowing into the stuffy room. There’s bloody shoe prints heading down the stairs. He can see the rapid turn on the concrete below before they head off towards the trees.

“I’ve got a trail.” He says.

“Go.” Price says. “Simon...you know what you have to do.”

He does.

He motions for Johnny to follow before hurrying down the stairs. The longer they delay, the further you’ll get. He doesn’t doubt some Shadows followed you if you made that much of a ruckus. The more time they waste, the more dangerous things get, and not just because they might lose you or the shadows might catch up.

He races towards the treeline, rifle in hand, but there’s no one else standing guard. Price and Gaz will have taken care of those in the other building, and those that were outside probably went after you.

He slows once they break the treeline, trying to catch any hint of your scent that might be left. His only hope is that you’ve left a trail. He’s a tracker, he knows what he’s doing. His senses are stronger, more in tune. He can find you. He can track you down. He has to.

The guilt is eating him alive. If something happens to you, he’ll never forgive himself. He’s right here, so close and yet so far. You’re running on borrowed time and there’s only so much of it left. Eventually you have to slow, eventually your body will start giving up. Will it be too late then? If a Shadow finds you when you can’t fight back...

“Dead Shadow ahead.” Johnny says, motioning to the slumped over body ahead of them. “We’re on the trail.”

“Let’s hope she left more markers on the way.” He says, kicking the Shadow, but the stab wound in his neck is all Simon needs to know. “Keep going straight.” He says, continuing on the path they’ve been following. He needs just a whiff, a hint of your scent. Something.

They come across another dead Shadow, this one off to the side of the path they had been following. He turns, making an adjustment before moving forward. Johnny keeps close, both of them watching for more Shadows, or for any glimpse of you. All they can hope is they’re on the right path.

He nearly sets off in a run as he hears a sound ahead. It’s a yowl, almost like a mountain lion. It sends a tingle down his back, his alpha blaring warning alarms. A threatened omega is a dangerous thing. Fierce and protective of themselves, capable of great feats and lethal if you get too close.

It’s you, no doubt.

Price had been right.

He has no choice.

He pushes forward, his steps quick as he makes his way through the bushes. He spots you near a boulder, trying to fight off a Shadow. He’s got the upper hand, using his size against you. You’re getting tired, your movements slowing. Simon aims with his rifle, a shot to the head dropping the Shadow. You drop into a crouch, surveying the trees. You’re covered in blood, a knife in your hand as your wild eyes search for them.

“Distract her.” He says to Johnny. “Make yourself as unthreatening as possible. I’ll go around and get her from behind.”

He doesn’t even wait for an acknowledgement before he’s moving, slipping around to the side of the boulder. Johnny steps into the clearing slowly, holding his hands up, talking to you quietly.

“Easy, kitten. Ye know who I am.” Johnny is careful not to get too close, his steps slow as he moves to the side, getting you to turn. “We’re just here to help ye. Get ye home and safe.”

You’re holding the knife up, brandishing it at Johnny. Simon isn’t sure if you’ve ever thrown a knife before, but he doesn’t put it past you to try in this state.

He hopes Johnny’s reflexes are fast enough.

He slips out from behind the boulder as you pause, wasting no time as he races up behind you and grabbing you before you can bolt or go for Johnny’s neck. You let out another yowl, struggling against him as he wraps an arm around your chest. Your teeth sink into his arm and he lets out a curse, but he doesn’t let go. He lets go, they won’t get another chance. It’ll be too late.

He doesn't want to do it. His mind flashes back to his father and mother, one of the few times his mother fought back. It hadn’t lasted long before her body went limp, practically a ragdoll in his father’s hold. Simon had grabbed Tommy and ran, barricading them in his room. They didn’t want to see what was going to happen next.

He doesn’t want that kind of control over you, he doesn’t want to put you through that trauma. The disorientation, the fear, the confusion. That must have been what it felt like after being sedated during your heat. You had been sick for days, crying in Johnny’s room. He had heard every sob, every attempt to soothe you.

He put you through that. He made you face that down despite the fear on your face as Johnny escorted you to the med center.

And now he has to do it again.

He has to this time. He has no choice. His only other option is to let you die. Price will never forgive him. Johnny won’t even look at him again. He’d betray them worse than you did, worse than Shepherd, worse than Graves.

You never really betrayed them in the first place, though.

You were afraid, untrusting of them, unsure because of your past. He had been foolish to blame you, foolish to think it was somehow your fault. You acted out of fear, out of terror. How you must have felt in those moments when that beta showed up, when you faced down Shepherd alone, when you returned to find your space invaded and those cameras all over your room. They weren’t there to protect you, they weren’t there to support you. They left you alone and you hid it from them because you didn’t know any better, because you were so afraid.

He’s a goddamn fucking prick he’s been.

Tears blur his vision as he tucks his free arm behind you, shifting your position just enough so he can get his hand around the back of your neck. You kick out with your legs, releasing his arm, your head tilting back in a last ditch, instinctual effort to protect yourself.

His eyes squeeze closed as you let out a yelp, his fingers digging into the back of your neck. It’s hard enough it will leave a bruise, but he has to be sure. It’s the only thing that might save you. It’s his only option, his only chance to keep you alive.

“There you go.” He says quietly into your ear. “Need you to relax for me.”

Your body goes limp in his hold, head resting back against his hand as he holds you there. Your muscles twitch as the tension leaves you, eyelids fluttering before they close. His arm stings where your teeth had sunk into his skin, hard enough to draw blood, but he doesn’t care.

“Keep resting.” He says, easing his hand from the back of your neck as he shifts you in his arms. “Gonna get you somewhere safe.”

You’re like a ragdoll in his arms as he lifts you up, cradling you against his chest. You’re warm, hair sticking to your forehead.

“Call it in.” He tells Johnny, his eyes still glued to your face. “We need that medevac now.”

“Price, we got her.” Johnny says into his comm. “We need medevac stat.”

You look so peaceful despite the blood soaking your body. Partially yours, partially the Shadows you killed in your escape. You look like a gruesome painting, a gorey depiction of an omega pushed too far. Something they’d put on display in a museum, a photo that would win prizes in celebration of such a natural state caught on camera. It would be circulated for decades, something talked about centuries from now.

A raw view of humanity’s inner beasts.

He can’t stand it, seeing you like this. They did this to you. They are the reason you’re like this. They made the bad call in the end, they put you through this. You won’t forgive them, not after everything. You went weeks without them, without a word and then this happened. Innocence tainted in the blood of the guilty. The bloodstained omega held in the arms of the blood-tainted alpha. He should be the one covered in their blood. He should be the one carrying the weight of torture and desperation on his shoulders.

The guardian dog covered in blood in the name of protecting his innocent sheep.

How he’s failed you. How they all failed you.

He pushes past the pain, past the grief, past the guilt and the horror of what they did to you, what they put you through.

They’ve got you back. You’re safe.

It’s over.

NEXT ->

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#call of duty #call of duty fic #poly 141 #poly 141 x reader #tf 141 x reader #John price x reader #captain price x reader #Simon Riley x reader #Ghost x reader #Kyle Garrick x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #John mactavish x reader #a/b/o #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #omegaverse

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luveline · 1 month

Note

omg can I request a more timid luna lovegood reader with remus lupin?? I feel like he’s more serious, so she would compliment him well!! maybe the two of them falling asleep with one another and her dozing off while talking about bugs or something and he’s just like, wow I love her!!

“Oh,” he says quietly, more to himself than you as he pulls you to his chest, “lovely, I missed you.”

Your pyjamas are made of a soft, thin material you favour and he can’t name. Your vest doesn’t cover much, but he’s covered you up with his arms and the blanket, and the space between you is roiling with body heat. “We were apart for twelve days.”

“I know.” He could not be more regretful.

“That’s almost three hundred hours without seeing one another.”

“We spoke on the phone.”

“It’s not the same,” you say. Remus would have to agree.

He feels like he can sleep well for the first time in those three hundred hours, knowing you’re alright, happy, and fed within arm’s reach. He really can’t decide what he missed most, your smell, your hair, your nose as it rubs against his throat. It must’ve been this, your weight on his side, and the sound of your voice as you murmur intricacies into his skin.

“I caught fifteen bugs while you were gone, that’s more than one every day… I kept the ladybug, but then she exploded into even more ladybugs. I noticed she laid eggs in the tank but I wasn’t expecting them to hatch so quickly… it was…” Your lips curve into a smile against his neck. “It was only a few days, baby. So many bugs.”

“I’m sure she lived a very good life.”

“She’s still alive, I think. I let them out into the back garden, I wasn’t expecting to be responsible for so many.”

You fold an arm across his chest and kiss his chin, to his sleepy delight. Your presence is lulling him to sleep, once slow sentence at a time. “I’m sure she was just as happy in your tank as the outdoors, lovely,” he says. Your tank being a very large space that you customise to whatever bug you’ve found. You do your research, and you give them long, healthy lives. You’re kind, and you keep them only to watch them and love them.

“You know ladybugs are beetles?” you whisper.

“I didn’t know that.”

“Mm-hm,” —you kiss his chin again, soft and with warming breath— “there are five thousand different species of ladybugs. Thousand. And they’re all different colours and sizes and…”

You rub your nose into his cheek.

“I missed you so much,” you say.

“I missed you too. I missed your voice.” Remus rubs your back, feels your top ride up. He draws a line along your naked spine. “Tell me more about the ladybugs, please? I was almost sleeping.”

“If I tell you and you fall asleep, you won’t remember.”

“Can you tell me again at breakfast? Would that be okay?”

You sound pretty sleepy yourself as you answer. “Okay, I’ll tell you twice, but only because you asked me so nicely.”

Wow, he thinks, feeling the length of your back in sluggish drags, I love her.

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #remus x reader #remus x you #marauders #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #marauders x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #the marauders

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aweina · 11 months

Text

౨ৎ. MANSPREAD ( 17﹢) ; mike schmidt

tags fem reader. established relationship. dry humping / heavy petting. begging. no reader orgasm ( boo ! ! ). cocky to submissive mikey + 1.8k words.

mike cannot seem to keep his legs closed. literally. sitting next to him was a total hassle. his legs covering every perimeter of leg space he could reach — leaving your knees buckled together and tucked in whatever corner you’re forced into.

you’ve mentioned his bad habit before, in which he mumbles an indolent “sorry” and then the next day, continues to do the same thing he’s half heartedly apologized for. at this point, you’re not sure he was doing it to press your buttons or his permanent restlessness has caught up with his memory.

then playful slaps on the knee became another idea. a quick sting to his skin kept his reactions stunned, buckling his knees together from your sharp touches. each slap garnered a short cry and a sudden flinch like some invisible string tied his legs together.

it worked, but only for a few days.

now mike catches your wrist halfway from making contact on his knees, gently tugging you down in the corner of the linen couch with a delighted chuckle. either that or he tosses you a knowing glance when you come by the couch, a raised brow and his hands protecting the caps of his knees — glancing his soft hazel eyes towards the tiny empty space beside him.

what a total ass.

all your solutions to stop his leg spreading habit seemed to do nothing for mike. instead, it made him even more repulsive — the spatial width between his legs could nearly reach the arms of the couch, leaving your poor body folded to regain any left over space. then his arms spread along the plush pillows — his rough hand would ever so often teasingly tug at your ears or play with the loose strands of your hair, pulling the ends while playfully twirling it in his finger.

in the corner of your eye, you swore there was a smug smile etched onto his face.

yeah, he’s totally doing this on purpose.

you thought a bit harder after that day. re-enacting different scenarios in your head without it resulting in some unneeded argument — nearly burning abby’s lunch in the process. but like a flash of light, it suddenly hit you. if mike was going to rob you of personal space, why can’t you do so to him?

“um … are you okay?” abby glances up at your blank eyes in concern, the chicken that was supposed to be golden brown violently sizzled from the bubbling oil, grimly layered under a blanket of black charcoal.

“o – oh, yes i’m fine abs.” you assured the smaller schmidt, transferring the hot pan away from the scorching stove — your inner victory delayed by your own clumsiness.

to salvage her burnt meal, you both shared a box of fresh delivered pizza for lunch.

but now it was that time.

it’s nighttime, mike was comfortably splayed on the couch, mindlessly flipping through channels. as it always was, his legs covered every crevice of the couch — body propped completely in between the plush cushions. the gray baggy sweatpants he changed into clung to his frame well — heavily ruffled on the parts you would love to get an eyeful of. his shirt was slightly damp from a warm shower, the gentle curl patterns in his brown hair glistened under the colorful glow of the television.

mike catches your lingering gaze, a pleased smile on his face.

“you’re not going to sit down?” he slurred a quip, patting down on the other end of the couch — seized by his thick thighs.

he refrains from teasing you for your blatant staring, but instead, for your multiple failed attempts to get him to stop his obnoxious leg spreading.

“oh yeah i will.” you mocked his sluggish tone, going to get yourself a cold drink before you make your way over to the couch.

blocking his view from the blaring screen, you purposely bent down in slow motion — distracting him from his vacuous browsing to simply put your drink down. mike quirks a brow at your little act, but still makes no effort to scoot over, barely moving a muscle.

then your body began to engulf his vision, fluorescent light spilling in the sides of your shadow. confusion knitted into his brows until suddenly, the air in his lungs were punched out from an added weight. the heavy crash of your body made mike rasp a curse, making him pathetically adjust himself after being nearly sunken in the folds of the aged couch — one hand clawing at the cushions for some stability.

“r – really? on my lap?” mike managed to breath out, holding your waist steadily with his free hand — your body felt so good flushed against his.

the innocent attempt to adjust himself ended up with him grinding on your ass, eliciting a low groan from his lips.

gosh, he’s too loud.

you hurriedly fish out the remote from his weak grasp, changing the channel to something that could hopefully muffle the pathetic noises that spill from mike’s mouth. abby’s room was still nearby the living room, the lights off and the door completely shut.

“well … you never give me room on the couch, so i think this is fair.” you explained leisurely, tossing the remote to the side as you grappled onto his spread knees, lifting off some weight to rub slow, shallow circles over his clothed cock.

mike fought back a needy whimper, biting his lip until fleshy pink turned paper white. the cooling sensation of his damp hair did nothing from how much his body was burning up. both his hands cling desperately onto the handles of your waist — kneading and lightly grazing his nails in your soft skin.

a throbbing warmth brushed against your clothed clit, mercilessly constricted by the confines of his sweatpants. you fought back a whine yourself, desperately tugging at the gray fabric with sealed lips. every steady brush of your soft flesh made mike see stars, the urge to lift his hips and grind harder into the curve of ass sat heavy in his lust hazed mind. yet his obedience seemed to glimmer brighter than his deviant instincts.

“ha ha- harder – ngh – please go harder.”

he sounded so sweet, so needy. you couldn’t deny him when the pool of his sticky precum oozes through the gray fabric — gossamer strings that weaved your dripping arousal with his own.

“s – stay still then.” you whispered, now fully pressing your weight against his hard cock — your back against his panting chest.

mike does what you ask, gluing his hips down to the cushions.

his heartbeat was racing against time, pumping all the hot blood that rushed down to his cock. his warm breath fanned the back of your neck, sending electric waves down your spine. his touches were sweaty, latching and kneading anything that pertained to softness. the open mouthed kisses he planted on your bare neck blossomed into purple hues, the drag of his teeth and muted whimpers coercing you to absolutely destroy him.

your hips rocked faster on his cock, the throbbing imprint tucked between the curve of your ass. his grip felt extra tight on your hips, reddish crescent marks decorating your flushed skin. mike throws his head back on the couch, his usual deep groans replaced with airy sighs. he closes his eyes, the same stars dancing in his eyelids — your heady scent making it harder for him not to hold you down himself and hump his cock against your pussy.

he’s so close, he can feel it.

“might cum – ah fuck.” mike warns with a high-pitched whine, the blasting audio from the television really doing him a favor.

you can tell too. his cock hasn’t stopped throbbing ever since he’s accidentally grind against you. his seeping precum never seemed to stop, only staining against the seat of the couch. he was like a horny teenager, so desperate to get off and trying so hard to compose himself. not like the asshole who was taking up all the space on the couch.

this was a great plan after all.

with one hard press against his cock, a spill of scorching heat nestled into your clothed pussy — eating through his soiled fabric and coating your covered folds. with no restraint whatsoever, mike’s deep groan vibrated the dimly lit living room, mindlessly bucking his hips lazily over your cunt like he could possibly pump some cum along your walls. the stars that whirled under his lids dispersed into a warm, satisfied feeling all over his usual restless body.

the very last minute, your hands flailed over his panting mouth — looking over to the direction of abby’s room. he seems to realize how loud he was, eyes widening as he hastily grabs onto the discarded remote, amplifying the volume to a considerate tone. not too loud to wake her up but definitely loud enough to cover the after effects of your intense heavy petting.

the light in her room remains untouched, her delicate footsteps nonexistent. she’s still asleep, thank goodness.

still both hazy from your lustful highs, mike drops the remote and snuggles into the crook of your neck — taking in your addicting scent while admiring the love marks he gave you. his cock softened under the soiled fabric, the sticky feeling making him furrow his brows. but then he realizes one thing, the sudden flinch of his body made you alarmed.

“i – i’m sorry. you didn’t get to cum.” mike sheepishly apologizes, fiddling with the waistband of your soiled shorts.

you shook your head with a relieved sigh, leaning back to gently kiss his stubble jawline — combing your fingers through his soft curls, dried on the top but the ends damp with sweat.

“i’m fine, baby, but you can make it up with one thing.” you mumbled in the base of his ear, a playful smile on your face.

in the corner of his eye, he can see the curl of your lips — the sight earning an eye roll.

“i already know what you’re going to say, but let’s hear it.” mike’s voice was baritone next to your flushed face, completely contrasting his previous whines and whimpers.

“give me all the space on the couch for now on.” you laugh when mike groans, still pulling your body closer to his despite this new ordeal.

“okay fine.” he defeatedly mumbles into your shoulder, his rough hands tracing over your bruised hips to your neglected chest — reaching under to knead your soft skin for his own enjoyment.

the moments of comforting silence were therapeutic, not even the continuous dialogue and sound effects from the bulky screen could ruin its peace. there was something still ticking mike off, he didn’t want to ruin this sweet moment but he couldn’t help it.

“are you sure my lap isn’t good enough?” he pleaded, a glint of hope in his hazy eyes — the couch being his only source of possession where he could splay himself comfortably.

you scoffed, rolling your eyes in the back of your head.

“no.”

it was an attempt.

he huffs in defeat, now kneading at your chest for some comfort.

“okay.”

#.୨୧ ina writes #.purple mark #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #fnaf movie x reader #mike schmidt smut #josh hutcherson

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seospicybin · 19 days

Text

TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE.

ROUND 2

Lee Know x reader. (s)

Related chapters: Round 1

Synopsis: Let's play two truths and a lie, and here goes the first thing about Minho: He is good in the kitchen. (10,3k words)

Author's note: I just thought that we need to play another round. Hope you had fun reading this x

Content warning: Infidelity.

Let's play another round of two truths and a lie where Minho shares three things about him and you have to guess which one is the lie.

Here goes the first thing about Minho: He is good in the kitchen.

That's the first thing Kim told you about Minho, he is good in the kitchen and that explains why you often find him in there, cooking meals or something his girlfriend, Kim, asked him to make, sometimes it's something as simple as fried rice to something as complex as beef wellington, he can do it all. In conclusion, his cooking skill is unquestionable.

Just like this morning, the first thing you see as you come out of your bedroom is Minho making something in the kitchen. Before he notices, you slowly tiptoe your way back to your bedroom and reach for the doorknob to—

"Morning!" Kim cheerily says as she comes out of her bedroom.

You instantly turn around on your feet and pretend that you've just come out of your bedroom. From her attire, you can tell that she's going for her morning run.

"Morning, Kim!" You say back with a smile, "Going for a run?"

"Yep. Minho is making pancakes," she answers as she ties her hair into a ponytail, "Have to burn some calories so I can eat more calories."

As a dancer, Kim diligently watches her weight but instead of getting on a rigorous diet, she prefers working out even though her job, dancing, is also working out, and she only spoils herself with a sweet treat on the weekend. She's heading to the kitchen to give Minho a quick peck on the lips and then puts her headphones on.

"I'll see you guys in a bit," she says before walking out the door.

Leaving you and Minho alone in the apartment is not a good idea but how can she know when you've been doing things behind her back?

Since he's already seen you, you may as well start your day, by going to the kitchen and getting yourself a cup of coffee, you just need to get the milk from the fridge, then you'll be out of Minho's way.

As you keep the fridge door open to put the milk back inside, Minho appears behind you and reaches for a carton of eggs from the fridge, his forearm brushes your waist as he retracts his hand.

You quickly step away and take the other end of the kitchen counter, stirring your coffee with a spoon while looking at the weather outside, at the sunlit clouds drifting across a clear blue sky.

"Can you hand me the sugar?" Minho points at the bowl of sugar in your reach.

"Sure," you say, picking it up and placing it on the kitchen counter next to him.

You're going to the other side of the kitchen counter and take a small sip of your coffee, you can sense the caffeine works to bring your brain to function. At the same time, your sense heightens that you know Minho is coming behind you to put the jar of sugar back into its place.

However, when he retracts his arm, his hand stays on your waist and it stays there, making you wonder what he's trying to do next so you turn your head to the side.

In the blink of an eye, Minho quickly captures your lips in a kiss and wraps his arms tightly around you. Your body is quick to respond to it but your brain is working at a sluggish pace.

By the time your brain catches up to it and tells you to stop, Minho already has his hand under your camisole and fondles at your breast.

"Minho..." you whine against his lips.

He breaks the kiss and stares into your eyes, "What?"

It's at the tip of your tongue and your mouth is open but no words coming out of it. Deep down, you know you want it and you don't want it to stop.

Instead of saying what you want out loud, you curve your arm around his neck and pull his head close for a kiss, picking it up and taking it up a notch.

With his free hand, Minho pushes your camisole upward, sending it hunched around your chest and exposing your breasts to the cool morning air.

He wastes no time to freely cup your breast in his hand and he likes how it fits him right, making him think that they were made just for him.

There's not much room for you to move with his arms firmly wrapped around you but when his hand glides down to cup your clothed sex, you start to push back against him and feel his bulge growing behind you.

Your common sense comes in ebbs and flows, and when it finally hits you, you suddenly pull his hand out of your shorts and break away from his hold.

"Kim will be back soon," you remind him with your voice tinted with concern.

Minho puts his hands on each side of your waist and makes you lean against the kitchen counter, "She won't be back for a while," he calmly says.

He then buries his mouth in the crook of your neck, peeling back the layers of worry off of you with every kiss he planted there.

All of a sudden, you find the guts to put your hands on his chest and push him a little too hard it sends him staggering a couple of steps to the back.

No matter how far you push him away, your body wants to be as close as possible to him. You find yourself walking back to him and taking your turn to corner him against the kitchen counter.

He's wearing this plain white t-shirt but gosh, it looks good on him and you like it even more when you can trace the muscles on his body through the fabric.

"But we don't know for sure," you say, leaning in for a kiss which he eagerly returns and makes him ask for more.

However, it's the grey sweatpants he's wearing that make you lose your mind a little. It's unclear whether it's the fabric or the color or the style of the pants that somehow accentuate the shape of his cock, or the way he walks around in the apartment in it and unaware of what it does to you.

You quietly pull his sweatpants low enough to let his member free out of its confine and without looking, your hand knows what it's looking for and immediately wrap your hand around it, slowly stroking it.

"For all we know, she may be back in a few minutes," you say against his lips.

Minho is engrossed in how you're slowly stroking his cock as you speak, it takes him a while to respond to your question.

"She won't," he assures you, pulling you close by the waist and putting his hand between your legs, rubbing your clit through your shorts.

"She's been gone for fifteen minutes now," you say before he has your lips locked with his again.

"Then we just have to make it quick," he simply resolves, lifting you by the waist, and swiftly, he turns around on his feet to sit you on the counter.

As a dancer, he is trained to lift his partner and he does it seamlessly as if he's lifting a piece of paper. Well, he has the muscles to prove his years-long dance training.

"Minho, we can't," you say as he leans in to kiss your neck.

Instead of stopping him from coming at your breasts, you hold them up for him so he can take them into his mouth.

He sucks on the flesh hard that you wince in pain and he lets go with a satisfied grin, "we definitely can," he coyly disagrees.

"What I'm saying is—" you pause as he parts your legs open, sending you leaning to the back and you quickly prop a hand to support you.

Minho tugs his hands at the elastic band of your pajama shorts and thinking of taking it off of you, you scramble to stop him.

"Just put it to the side," you tell him.

He obeys your words, putting the shorts along with your underwear to the side. He delightfully sighs at the sight of your heating core and he uses his fingers to feel how wet you are for him.

"I can't stop when you're this wet for me," he mutters as he swipes your lips with his fingers coated with your essence, then shoves it into his mouth next.

Feeling challenged to do the same, you lick your lips and get a taste of you on your tongue, you taste so sinfully sweet as the kiss he's about to plant on you.

While his lips keep you busy with kisses, Minho aligns his cock with your entrance, he rubs his tip between your folds then with a slow push, he starts to enter you.

The kiss breaks as the two of you shift your focus on how his cock pushing its way inside you. You spread your legs as wide as possible and watch as his cock is slowly disappearing into you.

Minho curves his hands around you and then glides them down until his hands meet the curve of your ass, he pulls you close, seeking closeness as he's about to fully bottomed out inside you.

"And I can't stop when you feel this good," he says as he crashes his lips against yours again.

The room soon filled with your low moans combined with the sounds of his hips against the back of your thighs. His nails dig into the flesh as he steadily keeps your legs open for him.

Even with your brain clouded with pleasure, a slight of fear comes creeping up in you and makes you keep looking to the side, in the direction of the foyer, and the fact that Kim can come in any minute now.

"Minho," you breathlessly call in between your moans.

You continue talking when you have his attention by putting your hand on his neck, "We can't keep doing this to Kim."

"I know," he says with a small nod, "it's unfair to her."

And it's unfair how he tries to take your mind away from things by suddenly adding intensity to his thrusts and going as shallow as possible inside you.

"Uh-huh, it's unfair," you repeat your words, suddenly losing all the words in your head.

Minho pulls you even closer until you're sitting on the edge of the counter while keeping the pace steady, he lets go of your legs and wraps his arms around you instead. He looks down at his cock slipping in and out of you then when his eyes find you, he intensely stares into your eyes as if he dares you to try to stop him again.

The truth is you're just a human who tends to make the same mistakes and above all that, you're just a girl who wants what she wants and in this moment, you want nothing else but him.

The grip on his shoulder tightens as you come to your climax, your moans turn into breathless whines and you bury your head in his neck.

Yet Minho keeps going and chasing for his high as your walls pulsate and flutter around him, all of those stimulations combined with the fear that Kim may walk in on you and him doing it in the kitchen only arouses him more.

"Don't cum inside," you whisper into his ear.

Now that you said it, it only makes him want to do it and he plans on ignoring those words.

You crumple the front of his t-shirt in your hand and force him to look you in the eyes, "Minho, you can't cum inside," you warn again.

Hearing the urgency in your voice, Minho refrains from doing it and wisely follows your words.

"Where do you want it then?" He asks, suddenly getting curious about your answer.

"My mouth," you shortly answer because it's the only way to make sure to leave no trace of this abomination. No trace means you can pretend that this never happened.

Minho stops moving for a second, unsure if he heard you right. You put your hand on his neck and say again, "You can cum in my mouth."

What you said seems to trigger something inside of him that he continues thrusting into you harder and faster, not caring that you've just cum around him a while ago which only make you even more sensitive than before.

You let him have it because this is the only way you know that'll bring him closer to his release. Also, you don't know how long this has been going on but you know that you don't have much left before Kim comes back.

All of a sudden, Minho puts his arms around your waist and steadily hoists you against him. You immediately wrap your legs around him and your arms around his shoulders.

"Oh..." a raw groan escapes his mouth as he lets go just a little and feels his cock deepens inside you as you cling to him.

The two of you stay still like that for a moment, encased in endless pleasure and palpable desire for each other that it feels like the slightest movement would break the spell.

Sadly, time isn't on your side.

You slowly let go of your hold around him, forcing Minho to put you down gently until your feet touch the floor and eventually, he has to pull out of you, making you feel the sudden emptiness.

You kneel on the floor as he incessantly pumps his cock to keep the stimulation going. You can see his cock, all red and veiny inches away from your eyes as you offer your mouth for him to dump his load.

Seeing him from this point of view surely feels new to you but not less arousing, you can see his forehead wrinkled with how much he focuses on chasing his release.

The most arousing part is the way he's looking down on you, seeing how much you want his cum in your mouth and he's the only one who can give it to you.

"Wider," he murmurs through his gritted teeth.

Also added is the fact that he is someone's boyfriend, oh, everything about it is arousing you so much that your hand flies to your cunt, touching yourself as you obey his word. While maintaining eye contact with him, you open your mouth wider and stick your tongue out a little, waiting for him to shoot his load on you like a bitch in heat.

The second his cum spurts out of his tip and lands on you, you gasp at how hot it feels on your skin. You close your eyes and keep your mouth open as more of his cum gets on your tongue, your lips, and all over your mouth.

Using the tip of his sock, Minho smears his pearly white cum all over your lips, tempting you to put it into your mouth and of course, you cave into the temptation. You give his tip a few kitten licks before taking his length little by little, you compensate for the rest you can't take with your hand.

"Oh..." he delightfully sighs with his head thrown back.

To see him fully indulging in it and hearing him moaning on pleasure encourages you to keep going, sucking him hard and syncing it with the pumping of your hand around the base of his cock.

"Oh, yes, keep going," he mutters to you with his voice soft and sultry.

He puts his hand in your hair and tugs at it, using it to angle your head slightly to the back to provide him more depth as he gently pushes a little more of his cock into your mouth.

"Fu..." his profanity trails off and turns into a breathless moan as he slowly begins thrusting his cock in and out of you.

You're aware that he's using your mouth for his pleasure and you don't mind any of it, if anything, it makes you want to touch yourself more. You allow yourself to do just that, rubbing on your clothed clit as Minho is fucking your mouth.

"Mmh..." you moan with your mouth full of his hot, swollen flesh.

"Oh, you and your fucking mouth," he mutters with a low breath, his eyes intently watching how you're taking every thrust of his cock into your mouth.

For a split second, you forget about Kim until you hear the sound of the front door opening and then closing. You're about to pull out but Minho's grip on the back of your head forces you to remain still.

Your heart starts pounding inside your chest as you hear her footsteps coming closer and she stops just on the other side of the counter where you remain hidden on this side with her boyfriend's cock deep in your throat.

"Oh, it's so hot today," Kim says, still panting from running. You hear her pouring water into a glass and then the sounds of her heartily gulping it.

Minho remains calm and puts his free hand on the counter, "Yeah, you sweat a lot, honey," he says.

There's a low thud of what you assume coming from Kim putting her glass down, "And where are my pancakes?"

"I want it to be hot when you're having it," he simply answers.

"Well then, I'm going to wash my face, and my hands and I'll be ready for pancakes," Kim says.

You can only imagine how she smiles brightly at him when she said it, oblivious to the fact that her roommate is sucking her boyfriend's cock as she speaks.

"They better be good," she adds as she walks away.

You start to relax when you hear her footsteps receding, then you hear the sound of the door being opened and then closed after.

Minho finally lets go of his dead grip on the back of your head and you immediately pull out, a little too fast that you choke on your saliva, sending you into a coughing fit.

You rise from the floor, fixing your clothes as you head to the sink to wipe the mess on your mouth with the running water.

It has just sunken into you of what you did with Minho, the guilt hits you like a ton of brick and it tastes bitter on your tongue no matter how much you rinse it with water.

"Are you okay, babe?" Kim asks you as she comes into the kitchen.

Her presence makes you choke on water this time, you grab a bunch of tissues from the box and wipe your mouth with it.

"I'm okay," you answer, "I'm just choked on something."

Without looking, you can feel Minho's sly smirk from across the kitchen counter. It's best if you exclude yourself from this to avoid any slips out.

"Where are you going?" Kim asks you, she drags a stool and pats it, "Come sit and eat pancakes with me!"

"No, I have something—"

"What do you possibly need to do on a Sunday morning?" She asks with a pout.

"Come on, take a seat!" She says, excitedly patting the seat and inviting you to sit next to her.

If you persist on leaving, she'll only get suspicious of you so you relent, sitting on the stool next to her while holding your cup of coffee.

On the other hand, Minho did his part too well. He acts like nothing happened and successfully makes pancakes for both you and Kim.

"You want cream with that, honey?" He asks Kim but his eyes wander your way for a second.

"No, thank you," Kim politely refuses, "but I'll have the syrups."

Minho wastes no time to get it for her from the kitchen cabinet and gives it to her. He then takes a tube of whipped cream and gives it a shake.

"Extra cream for you then," he says to you as he places creams on top of your pancakes and flashes you a faint smirk that only you can see.

Unable to respond to it with words, you stab the pancakes with your fork and have a bite at it, hate to admit it but it tastes good.

Well then this makes the first statement a truth: Minho is indeed good in the kitchen.

This is it, you say in your head as the bell in your head goes ding!

The apartment may be much smaller than Kim's but it has everything you need, a bedroom, an adequate space to be called a living room, and a fully functioning kitchen. The only downside is it's a farther commute to work but the affordable rent makes up for it and that's the most important thing.

"Are you going to take it?" Gaspard asks as he floats through the crowd like a divine being among mortals.

"I have to take it," you answer while trying to keep up with his long strides, "It's the best offer."

"I think so too," he says, putting his arm around you so you don't stray away from him.

"Yeah?"

He nods, "Cause then you'll be living only a few blocks away from me."

"Oh? You know what? I change my mind," you jokingly say, turning around to walk in the opposite direction.

"Hey!" He holds you back and steers you to the right way by the shoulders, "No turning back now!'

About a week ago, you made it very clear to Gaspard that you want to stay as good friends with him but it's easy to tell that he still believes this can be more than that. That leads you to act careful around him because you're scared that he's mistaken it for something else.

"Aren't you going to invite me upstairs?" He playfully asks as you both stand outside the apartment building.

"Better luck next time," You joke back with a gentle push on his chest.

"Not even for a can of beer?" He sweetly blinks his eyes at you in the hope that will be enough to persuade you.

"Just one!" You cave in because he's been helping you with the apartment hunting and you've been walking around since this afternoon until the day turns dark.

"Just one," he repeats your words in agreement.

"Promise?"

"Promise!"

The apartment is empty because Kim and Minho are out on a date which makes it a convenient time to enjoy a cold drink after a day's hard work.

"Where's Kim?" Gaspard asks as you join him on the sofa.

"I think they're going to the movies or something," you mindless answer, you couldn't care less about what they're doing on a date.

The two of you get quiet after taking a long gulp of beer and gasp at how refreshing it is like you didn't just have it with dinner earlier.

"I reckon you're going to break the news to Kim soon?" Gaspard asks as he leans back on the sofa with his head turned at you.

"Well... yeah," you meekly answer and it reminds you how of you're not ready for that part yet.

"How do you think she'll react?" He asks as he secretly puts his arm around your shoulders.

"I don't know," you sigh, then take a sip of your beer, "I just hope that she knows that the reason has nothing to do with her."

"What's the reason then?" Gaspard asks for the first time and seems to be genuinely curious about the answer.

It feels like you're trapped by your own words, you know the reason but you can't tell him or anyone for that matter.

"Because I want to live close to you," you decide to risk getting it mistaken for something else instead of letting him in on the answer.

With the hand around your shoulders, Gaspard easily pulls you close until you're sitting elbow to elbow and bumping knees with him on the sofa.

"Have I told you you looked beautiful today?" He seduces you as he's brushing your hair to the side.

"Not enough," you jokingly answer.

Gaspard leans in to whisper it to you right into your ear, "You're so beautiful," he mutters then kisses on the cheek.

"Thank you," you sweetly say with a smile.

Catching you off guard, he places one more kiss on the other cheek and pulls away with a big smile on his face. Well, you've done your part to spare him from the disappointment so it's not your fault that he puts himself back on the track for it.

"You promised it was going to be just one beer," you scold him along with a sassy eye roll.

"And I'm not finished with my beer yet," he cleverly answers.

The front door flies open and Kim comes into sight, finding you and Gaspard snuggling close together on the sofa. She smiles at you and puts down her bag on the dining table.

"What do we have here?" She asks with a sly smile.

"Nothing. We're just drinking beers," you calmly answer while quietly putting a safe space between you and Gaspard on the sofa.

"Yeah, I'm just here for one beer," Gaspard says, emphasizing the amount of beer with a sly grin flashed your way.

"And he'll leave soon," you add, returning the sly grin to him.

Taking this as a sign to give you privacy so you can break the news to Kim, Gaspard says, "And I'm leaving."

"No. Stay," Kim says as she sits on the sofa next to you.

"I can only bother you this much, Kim," he jokingly says and comes at you for a hug, "I'll see my way out."

"Thanks for today," you say as you hug him back.

You wait until Gaspard leaves to talk to Kim about what you did today and that you'll be moving out of the apartment soon. You finish your beer to fuel your courage and quietly exhale air to calm yourself down.

"Kim, I need to talk to you about something," you start.

Kim brushes her long dark hair and rests it on her shoulder like a waterfall, "Mmh? What is it?" She asks.

Now, that you have her attention and no one else is here except for the two of you, this is the right time to tell her. You open your mouth and plan to just give it to her all at once until Minho comes through the front door.

"Where do you want me to put it?" He asks Kim, showing the plastic bag he's carrying in his hand.

"Can you put them in the fridge for me, honey?" Kim answers.

"Sure," he shortly answers, going to the kitchen to do what Kim asked him to do.

"I ran out of my fiber drinks," she says, explaining what she made Minho bought for her.

"Ah, I see..." you meekly respond, losing every word you've been carefully arranging in your head so you abort the plan to tell her about the apartment situation.

"So, what do you want to talk about?" She asks with a soft smile on her face, making you feel even more disheartened to tell her.

"Oh, I..." you feel tempted to just let it all out but your eyes keep uneasily glancing at Minho and you don't want him there to hear it.

"I forgot what I'm trying to say to you. Sorry," you lie and add a foolish laugh to convince her.

Kim seems to buy it as she cracks a laugh and gently slaps your knee, "You silly!"

"I'll tell you once I remember it," you say to her.

Or more like, when Minho isn't around.

Two days have passed with Kim is still oblivious that you'll be moving out of the apartment soon.

You always missed each other's timing, when you had the time, Kim was in a hurry to go to the academy and when she was alone at home, you were working late that night. It's like a mysterious force trying to hold you back from telling her the truth.

When you came home from work tonight, you found Kim eating dinner alone in the kitchen. To make sure that Minho isn't around or coming unannounced like usual, you simply ask why she is by herself when her boyfriend always drives her home and usually stays to have dinner together.

"Minho's car broke down so I took a taxi home," Kim answers with a low sigh.

"Oh, that's upsetting," you keep your expression in check as you say it, not risking Kim catching you turn his misfortune into an opportunity.

"It's about time he sends his car to the shop anyway," Kim says.

It's unethical to interrupt her in the middle of her dinner so you carefully pick your timing and wait until she's done with her dinner to talk.

You grab a can of juice from the fridge and take a seat next to her, "Kim, can I talk to you about something?" you hesitantly say.

"Sure, babe," she says, putting down her glass of water then stacks her hands together on the dining table, "What is it?"

"A week ago, I found a suitable apartment not far from Gaspard's. It's not as big as this..." you gulp air to be able to continue talking, "It's in a nice neighborhood and the rent is affordable so I'm thinking of moving in there."

A moment passes in silence as Kim processes your words, her fingers wrapped around the bottom of her glass and tapping at it.

"You want to move out?" She asks as the glints in her eyes slightly dim.

"Yes," you hesitantly say.

"I reckon it's about time that I get my own place," you hurriedly add the number one reason why you want to move out so she doesn't think that it has anything to do with her.

"It's not because of me, right?" She meekly asks.

"No," you answer without a beat, "I love being your roommate but you know... I can't stay here forever. I eventually have to move out."

"Nonsense! You definitely can stay here forever," Kim remarks as she grabs your hand on your lap.

You put your hand on hers and softly smile at her, "I'd love to but..."

You can't keep living with her knowing you've been betraying her and the guilt is eating you alive from the inside as you speak? You continue in your head.

"It's either now or later, it's something that I have to do," you settle on a reasonable answer.

"That's true," Kim weakly says, looking a little taken aback by your announcement.

"I'm sorry if this is so sudden. I didn't mean to keep it this long, we were so busy these past few days that I only got the chance to tell you now," you explain with utmost sincerity.

Kim nods and puts on a smile for you, "it's okay. I understand."

Your heart is getting heavy the more you talk, you'd better end it before the guilt gets to you and you're giving it the chance to crawl out of you. You grab your purse, rummaging through the content for the envelope you've been putting aside and planning to give to Kim.

"This is for this month's rent," you hand the envelope straight into her hand.

She folds it in half and puts the envelope back into your hand, "Take it. You need it for moving and buying stuff for your new apartment.

"No, Kim. I can't. It's yours!" You forcefully put it back into her hand but she balls her hand into a fist.

"Consider this as an early housewarming gift," she insists, holding your hand down to make you stop giving the envelope back to her.

"Kim, no... I shouldn't—" You sigh in defeat, having no other way to make her accept your money.

"I'm going to miss you," Kim's voice cracks, and the next thing you know, she's hugging you so tightly that you can feel how much she meant her words.

"Oh, Kim, you can't get rid of me yet," you playfully say to lighten up the mood, "at least, for the next three weeks."

This is why you have to move out soon, Kim is too kind and all you do in return is use her kindness to fool her and stab her in the back, you've been treating her like a shit friend, and you feel sick have to keep doing that to her.

This is statement number two: Minho knows that he's the reason why.

There's this gut feeling that something is going to happen. This could be just a reaction to the change you'll face soon, new apartment, new neighborhood, there'll be no Kim, and the realization that you'll do everything on your own at that point.

It's scary and exciting, you feel a little bit of both at times. One thing that always lingers inside you is this slight fear that Minho possibly knows he's the reason why you decide to move out.

A week went by and you can safely assume that Kim must have told Minho about the apartment situation. You swear you're not expecting anything at all from Minho, but he's been strangely normal and taciturn which only confirms that something is actually off about him.

You should be taking this as an advantage because then you wouldn't have to interact with him and fewer interactions lead to you making fewer mistakes with him.

Work has been keeping you busy too that you haven't had the chance to pack your things. When you come home late tonight, Kim is already sleeping and you don't want to bother her by the sound of you shoving your things into boxes.

Well, you still have a week left anyway to sort your things out and you're tired from work, you hurriedly make your way to the bathroom for a quick shower.

In the midst of it, you hear the knocking on the door and your first thought is that Kim must be in urgency to use the bathroom.

"Kim?" You call but there's no answer

You turn off the shower and put on a bathrobe, you carefully walk as water drips down your body and hair to open the door.

"Is that you..." your words trail off as you see who's coming into the bathroom and it's not Kim.

There was no sign that Minho was in the apartment when you walked in because you could tell from the sight of his shoes in the foyer or his bag that sits in the living room so unless he has the ability to become invisible, it means that he came just now to the apartment.

Gosh! You tried so hard to avoid temptation and now it's coming to get you. You're clutching your bathrobe together and head to the door.

"You can use the bathroom," you say without looking at him.

He grabs you by the elbow to stop you from leaving, he pulls you hard enough that your body crashes against him, then wraps his arms around you.

"I heard you're moving out," he says.

You break away from his hold and put his hands away from you, "not your business," you say.

Minho is quick to catch your hands by the wrist then he folds them together behind your back, making you unable to move as he leans in to kiss you.

You turn your head to the side, not letting him kiss you but instead of doing that, he steers your body to the back until your back meets the bathroom sink.

"Is it because of me?" He asks.

You scoff and make a mocking smirk at him, "Not everything is about you, Minho," you say, daringly staring into his dark brown eyes.

Catching you off guard, Minho crashes his lips against you and you hate that you instinctively return his kiss. He pulls away for a bit then plants his lips on yours again, deeper and hungrier than before.

Getting a moment of clarity, you pull away from the kiss and keep your head turned away from him, "We can't keep doing this to Kim," you remark.

He leans in close until his face is only inches away from yours, "So you admit that it's because of me?"

There's no way of denying it anymore so you may as well just admit it, "You made me do this and I don't—"

He cuts you off with a kiss and you have to pull your head back hard enough to break it, "I hate myself for it and I hate you for making me keep doing this to Kim," you bravely tell him right to his face.

He leans in even closer so that you can see the dark orbs of his eyes, "Tell that to me once again," he dares you.

This is the time to break away from this cycle that shackles you with guilt, you should stop now before all this guilt weighs you down and drown you further.

"I hate you, Minho," you unequivocally tell him with unwavering eyes.

Minho intensely stares into your eyes to see if your words match what you're feeling inside. His eyes flick down to your lips, tempted to lean in for another but when his lips make contact with yours, he changes his mind.

He lets go of his hold on you all at once and then takes a step back, exiting the room and leaving you untethered for good.

It seems like what you've said to him has done it because Minho acts like you're not even there whenever you're in the same space with him and this morning, you find yourself in the kitchen with him just quietly minding your own business.

This is good, right? That means there'll be no more mistakes, no more betraying Kim and you can start being a good friend again. The best thing of all, you get to move out of the apartment on a good note.

"Hey, you're not working late tonight, right?" Kim asks as you're enjoying your morning coffee.

"I hope not," you say, putting down your half-eaten toast on the plate, "Cause I have lots to do tomorrow."

Kim nods and pours herself a glass of orange juice, "Since this will be your last night in an apartment, I'm hoping that we can have dinner together," she says with a smile.

She walks up to Minho and places her hand on the small of his back, "Minho will be cooking, of course, and I'll get a nice bottle of wine for—"

You quickly swallow your food to refuse the idea, "Oh, no, Kim, please, I don't feel good—"

She clicks her tongue at you and shakes her head, "No, you can't say no. I'll be waiting for you to come home whether you like it or not," she insists.

Maybe it's coming from the fact that she comes from a privileged family, Kim can be quite adamant about certain things, especially when she wants something, in one way or another, she has to get it.

The whole time at work, you're debating whether to make an excuse to avoid attending dinner or just gladly accept Kim's kind gesture and come to the dinner, the latter is what a good friend would do, right?

On the way home, you purposely missed the trains a couple of times before finally getting in. You're dreading it because Minho is cooking dinner and that means he'll be there for it, and this is worse than doing things behind Kim's back because you have to act innocent in front of her.

At the door of the apartment, you take a few deep breaths with your hand holding the doorknob. You console yourself with the thought that you'll only have to endure it for one more night and all this will disappear tomorrow.

"I'm home," you announce your arrival and try your best to sound cheerful as you make your way inside.

As expected, Kim is sitting at the dining table with Minho and it seems like they started without you as you see the glasses of wine.

"Oh, there you are!" Kim claps her hands together in delight.

"I'm sorry. The train was delayed for almost an hour," you make up an excuse for your tardiness while putting down your bag on the kitchen counter and head to the kitchen sink to wash your hands.

"I hope you don't mind that we almost finished the first bottle without you," Kim says.

"I don't mind at all," you say as you dry your hand with a napkin.

As you take a seat at the dining table, Minho gets up his seat and heads to the kitchen. You can't tell if that's intentional or not, but you remind yourself to not give an ounce of care to whatever he's doing.

"Minho only needs to reheat the sauce and dinner will be ready," Kim says as she fills your glass with red wine and the aphrodisiac smell wafting around in the room.

"Thank you," You smile in gratitude and take a small sip of it.

"So, how was work?"

"Dreadful," you shortly answer and reward yourself with another sip.

Kim cracks a laugh and something about it gives you the impression that she's rather a little intoxicated already.

"I'm sorry that I can't help you move out tomorrow," she says as she pours more wine into her glass which you deem is not a smart move.

"That's more than fine," you respond, "I heard from Gaspard you guys have started practicing for the winter show."

"Oh, yeah..." she softly says and then gets lost in her words for a second.

"We're doing The Nutcracker, again," she says with a dramatic pause.

"That sounds fun!" You nicely respond.

"You should come on the opening day, I'll send the ticket," she enthusiastically says and sips her wine.

"Only if you come to my little housewarming party," you meekly say even though you're not sure you know how to throw a party of any kind.

"That's a deal!" She says, clinking her glass of wine with you to seal the deal.

The mouthwatering smell has taken over the room as Minho serves the food on the table, he's cooking pasta and a big steak to share which he has sliced, showing off the perfect level of cooking doneness.

"This is delicious, honey," Kim praises after taking a bite of it, she then turns to look at you, "What do you think?"

"This is really good," you compliment because, despite everything, you can't deny that he's a good cook which also reminds you to thank him for it.

"Thank you for cooking dinner, Minho," you say even though his name feels dry and strange on your tongue.

He only nods and doesn't say anything but put more food on Kim's plate, and you can't lie that you feel a little dejected by his lack of reaction.

The dinner would be a big awkward moment if Kim wasn't leading ninety percent of the conversation on the table but as the night goes on and more wine dawned in, Kim starts to slur her words and mindlessly rambles about random things all at once. It gets to the point that she accidentally knocks things off, first it was her glass of wine and then, a pitcher of water that is now flooding the dining table.

"Kim, I think it's time for bed," you kindly say.

She brushes her hair away and sniffles, "But it's your last night here."

"We'll still be seeing each other tomorrow," you console her.

She cracks a smile and then snorts, "That's right."

Minho is quick to offer himself to carry her to bed but before she comes into his arms, Kim crashes herself into you and hugs you so tightly.

"You're the best roommate I've ever had," she mumbles with her head buried in your neck.

You put your arms around her to return her hug and gently pat her back, "That's so sweet of you, Kim."

"And I'm not saying that because you're the only roommate I've ever had, I genuinely love having you here," she says, pausing to inhale air.

"it's going to be so weird coming home and you're not here," she adds with a sniffle.

You can't bring yourself to check whether she's crying or not because if she does, there's a big chance you'll cry too. Instead, you look at Minho to let him know this is why you can't hurt her anymore.

All of a sudden, Kim breaks away from the hug and runs to Minho, she lets him take her to the bedroom. You watch as they get inside and close the door behind them.

After cleaning up the dining table and doing the dishes, you can finally go to your bedroom, being with yourself for the first time after a long, eventful day.

The room is bare since you have packed everything into boxes and you're standing there wondering how your life fits in those boxes. It gets you all sentimental as you feel like you're going on a new path in life.

The moment gets interrupted as you notice through the reflection in the mirror that Minho is coming into your room. Before you can stop him, he barges in and crashes his body against yours, lips instantly locked with yours as if they're two opposites of the magnet.

"Minho..." you sadly whine against his lips.

When you look into his eyes though, you just can't find it in you to resist him anymore so you give in and let tonight be another mistake.

Just one more mistake, you tell yourself.

Minho likes it when you're saying one thing but your body does the opposite. He's holding you close from behind and his hand is down south, fingers playing with your clit before he pushes one digit inside you, making you shut your legs together in reaction.

"We can't do this," you mutter against his lips.

He's expecting you to say that at one point but not this early in the night and not when he's just started. He presses his mouth into your ear and whispers, "Fight back harder if you don't want this."

There are so many ways for you to tell him off, you can break away from his hold, you can push him away and close the door right on his face but you do want this, he can see in the mirror how you liked being touched all over and how you like two fingers instead of one inside you.

"Oh..." you shakily moan as he enters two digits into you now.

Minho can feel it blooming under his touch and how wet you are for him, how your body wants more of him despite all of your efforts to stop him.

And you know what? He wants you just as much if not more.

He starts undressing you, taking every piece of clothing off of you as eager as a child unwrapping his Christmas present, and then gently, he lays you down on the end of the bed.

You look up at him with your eyes wide and flickering with desire, "Let's stop here, I let you—"

There you go with your empty warning again, he shuts you off with a kiss, "There's no way I can hold back," he says to you.

Impatient, he rips open his shirt and tosses it aside before kneeling at the end of the bed to indulge in your pool of arousal. Your moans begin to fill the room and in the mirror, he can see you try to muffle it by covering your mouth with your hand.

Minho can't get over how wet you are for him and he wants to keep it that way as he has lots of things he wants to do to you.

He gets up from the floor and quickly gets rid of his jeans next, then wastes no time to walk up to you. He takes your legs by the ankles, lifting them and holding them close to his chest, and then slowly, he parts them open.

Oh, the sight of your wet flushed cunt will never cease to arouse him. His head gets dizzy just from looking at it and it starts spinning as you put your hand around his cock.

"Fuck!" He curses under his breath as you bring his cock and rub it between your folds, making him more impatient to be inside you.

His patience wears thin and he puts his focus on aligning it with your entrance.

"Minho, I told you we can't— oh..." you loudly moan as you feel his cock penetrates you and stop talking as he pushes the rest in a painstakingly slow motion to make sure you feel every inch of his length stretching you.

"Doesn't this feel way too good?" He says as he deeply stares into your eyes.

He doesn't need to hear you say it, he knows because you feel too good around him too. He is steadily holding your legs on each side of his waist as he starts thrusting into you.

Minho can't decide whether he should watch his cock slipping in and out of you or watch how much you're enjoying it, quietly moaning while tugging your fingers between your teeth.

One thing he knows what to do is to make this last as long as possible, he stops when he knows you're closing in on your high.

"Oh," you sigh as he pulls out of you and swiftly, turns you over on the bed.

Now, he has you lying on your stomach and he grips your waist, raising it a little higher to give him just the right angle to enter you from behind.

You whine as you feel him full again and he's lowering himself on top of you, he's propping his elbow against the mattress to not put his whole weight on you.

Minho puts his hand around your neck and slightly tilts your head to the back to land a kiss on your lips. He can feel the blood rushing in your veins with his hand wrapped around your neck.

"Minho, let's stop this already," you whine.

Despite his cock buried deep inside you, you still find it in you to try to stop him. He kisses you hard and deep as if he's trying to strip all of your senses away.

"Shut up!" He tells you, "You don't even want to stop."

From the way you close your mouth is enough to tell him that you have no response to that but he knows now that he needs to fuck all these worries out of you.

Minho does all of that, he's fucking you with all his might, he watches how your face contorted in pleasure, how your hands are crumpling the sheet under you as he picks up the pace.

"Minho..." you breathlessly call.

Before you can say anything to stop him again, he grabs your chin and makes you see your reflection in the mirror, "Look at that!"

He waits until you open your eyes and see yourself in the mirror as he asks you, "Does it look like you want me to stop?"

Fucking you good isn't enough, he needs to fuck you hard enough that you forget everything else except for this moment where only you and him exist in this sinful tryst.

"If you keep going, I'm going to come," you whine between your moans.

Minho takes that as a sign that he's heading the right way but rather than adding speed to his thrusts, he slows down his pace and allows himself to melt onto you, putting his body on yours, placing kisses all over your shoulder and neck until his lips find their way back to yours.

There's no way he's finishing this without seeing your face when it's everything he wanted the most from it, seeing how fucked out you are that you can't find words to say.

After turning you over on the bed, he takes a moment to let his eyes lust over your body and then he runs his hand all over you, feeling your soft skin under his fingertips. He's using his mouth next to suck on your breasts and his tongue to play with your nipples.

All these times, he's been good by not doing it but the urge to mark you is getting unbearable so he does it, sucking on your ample flesh hard enough that he knows it's going to leave a mark.

"Ow..." you yelp in pain but it comes out as a mewl as you try to keep your noises on the low.

Minho settles himself between your legs, burying his head once again in your wetness to prepare you for what comes next. You're whining and moaning, sometimes, it's a mix of both and it's resounding in the room.

He starts to believe that you forgot about his girlfriend sleeping in the bedroom across the room, he puts it to the test by sucking on your clit which earned a loud moan for you. He's right, you forgot about it until a while later, and you hurriedly cover your mouth with the back of your hand.

He gets impatient all over again when it comes to entering you, he can only hold himself back so much and his self-control is wearing thin. He's lowly groaning as he pushes himself back into you, feeling your tight walls welcoming him.

"How are you feel so good every damn time, mmh?" He asks in disbelief with a rough kiss on your lips.

The sex feels so much better than the previous and if he could, he is just wanting to keep doing it with you because it doesn't feel like with other people, including his girlfriend of almost three years.

He watches as your eyes fluttering open and shut, and breathless moans spilling out of your parted mouth, overwhelmed by what he's doing to you.

"Look at you! Making lewd moans for me," he mutters with an intense gaze directed toward you.

He brushes your hair away from your face and kisses your open mouth, "Aren't you supposed to hate me?"

You lick your lips and look at him through your half-shut eyes, "I hate— oh..."

He launches his cock deeper inside you, not letting you finish your sentence, and keeps the intensity of his thrusts to distract you.

"I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!" You manage to repeatedly say and Minho roughly thrusts into you every time you say it.

"That doesn't sound convincing," he mockingly says, pretending like it doesn't affect him when in fact, it does.

"I hate you and I hate your guts," you say with your body shaking from how hard he's fucking you and your breasts jiggling along to it.

The hate somehow encourages him to keep going, he's letting go of himself and letting his body take care of the rest. He doesn't need to worry about you, he knows you are on the brink of—

"Oh, my—" You let out a broken moan as you reach your climax

Minho keeps moving to chase his high, his nails digging into the flesh on your thighs as he's going impossibly fast, ramming himself into you until he too, finally reaches his high.

Even though he's high in unadulterated pleasure and his brain is foggy because of it, he knows his way to your kiss, he slowly puts himself on top of you and softly places his lips on yours. There's something intimate about this, it feels pure and raw, it's just you and him locked in a chaste kiss.

However, when you break from the kiss, you look at him and say for the umpteenth time, "I hate you, Minho."

Isn't it tiring to lie? Isn't it tiring to keep hiding? But sure, you can say things that go against what you're feeling and betray your own heart as much as you want but Minho isn't one to do that kind of thing.

He holds the side of your face and fiercely looks back into your eyes as he calmly says, "That's too bad because I like you."

That makes it the third statement: Minho likes you.

If the other two are the truth then that makes this a lie, right? But, oh well, why bother figuring it out when you've already moved on from that part of life?

It takes a month to adjust to your new apartment and discover some places around your neighborhood like a regular cafe to visit when you need your caffeine fix and a bakery that sells this delicious bagel when you need a breakfast to-go.

There's no denying that you miss Kim from time to time and it feels a little lonely when you come home from work, and that's why you're excited for tonight, you're having the housewarming party that has been postponed twice because Kim got tied with her practice schedule.

Swear to God! You're just excited to meet her again and not at the possibility that you'll meet her boyfriend again.

Since you doubt your skill in cooking, you decide to order some food from Gaspard's recommendations and he also comes early to help set the table.

"You're chipper than usual," he comments as he cleans the table with a cloth.

"Am I? I feel exceptionally normal," you playfully respond.

When the doorbell rings, your heart palpation and you can't even bring yourself to peek through the peephole, you take a deep breath and turn the knob.

"Hi, my darling!" Kim gasps the second you open the door for her and you both exchange a quick, warm hug.

"Oh, I hope you don't mind me bringing a plus one," she adds, opening the door wider to let someone else in.

The excitement fills you to the brim that you feel like you're about to combust but it deflates in a second when you see that she's bringing someone else.

"You remember Astrid?" Kim asks.

You hide your disappointment and put on a smile, "I believe we met at the party," you vaguely remember her from her dirty blonde hair and Kim's fellow dancer.

"Yes, exactly that Astrid," she says as she shakes your hand.

"Please, come in!" You politely say, making a way for your guests to come inside your small apartment.

Gaspard appears to welcome Kim and gives her a quick hug, as if he heard your thoughts, he asks, "I thought you'd be with Minho."

"His car broke down again," Kim sighs as she takes off her coat, "I already told him so many times to buy a new one instead of sending his car to the shop."

This is so infuriating. No matter how much you convince yourself that you don't care about Minho, reality slaps you with the truth. You've been under the illusion that this distance will help you diminish this feeling but you do care, you care a lot.

The party went well or that's what you guessed, you were out of it most of the time, your body was here but your mind was going all over the place.

"You're so quiet," Gaspard comments again as he helps you clean up after Kim and Astrid leave.

"I'm just... sad," you honestly admit but decide to lie about the details, "Soon you'll be leaving too and I'm alone again."

Gaspard slyly smiles at you and leans the side of his body against the wall, "I mean, I can stay with you," he offers.

You scoff and put the dirty glasses into the sink, "Well, then you won't be missing me tomorrow," you say with a pout.

He sighs as he takes your subtle rejection with an open heart, "Are we still on for Sunday brunch?"

"Why? Do you need to cancel?" You jokingly say.

He bumps his shoulder with you as he joins in the kitchen sink to help you with the dishes, "Your treat!"

"Sure. My treat!" You agree with a bump into his shoulder.

A little after eleven, Gaspard left the apartment too with a long hug and a kiss on your cheek. You're going back inside to tidy up a few things while draining the wine from the leftover dinner, chugging it straight from the bottle.

It feels rewarding that you finish the wine by the time you're done cleaning the kitchen and now, you're tired enough to not think of anything else and ready for bed.

As you're about to change out of your dress, you hear the doorbell rings and your first thought is it's Gaspard, because he's done it before and he's shooting his shot for the umpteenth time. You're holding yourself back from laughing and head to the door to open it, unlocking it without checking it through the peephole first.

"What? Do you miss me already?" You jokingly say as you pull open the door.

"Yes," Minho answers without a beat as he's standing in front of you, making your heart race inside your chest and waking the kaleidoscope of butterflies as they start to flutter around in your stomach.

The first thing that comes to your head is what he said to you that night. Minho likes you and you still can't determine this one statement, well, it seems like you need to play another round to know if it's a lie or a truth.

Support my works by reblog, comment or consider tipping me on my ko-fi!

@svintsandghosts @abiaswreck @ppiri-bahng @drhsthl @idkluvutellme @biribarabiribbaem @skz-streamer @biancaness @hanjisunginc @elizalabs3 @laylasbunbunny @kpopformylife @caitlyn98s @hann1bee @mamieishere @is2cb97 @marvelous-llama @bluenights1899 @sherryblossom @toplinehyunjin @hanjisbeloved @yourmomscuntis2tighy @sunnyseungup @skz4lifer @stellasays45 @severeanxietyissues @avyskai @imseungminsgf @silentreadersthings @army-stay-noel @rylea08 @simeonswhore @jebetwo @yubinism @devilsmatches @septicrebel @rairacha @cutiespaghetti @ven-fic-recs @hyunjiinnnn @lostgirlinthewoodss @schniti-is-in-the-house @jisunglyricist @9900z

#stray kids smut #skz smut #lee know smut #lee know x reader #skz x reader #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #skz fics #skz fanfics #kpop smut #kpop fics #kpop fanfics #seospicy smut

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izuke-the-zombie · 10 months

Text

🌸Sorry for the long ass absent guys 🫠 family and holidays have been crazy😮‍💨

I recently came across this short monkie kid wild West AU fanfic

It's short but it's really good, And it sort of got me in the mood to sketch or at least redraw the two mystic monkeys cowboy outfits again

I really wasn't sure whether to give Mac, purple boots or just black boots you can kind of see it in the first pick faded Mac.

🌸🐎🐴✨But I don't think I've seen anyone draw them with horses or write something about it, so I'm going to be the first one to do it! (I don't know how to draw them sitting on horses, so bear with me here.)😗💦 I know I put the scar on the wrong side of the Smokey Horse. My bad, let's just pretend it's on the right side.LOL😅🪷

😽💕I headCannon that when those two summon their horses together, they get really affectionate. The sheriff's horse is more like a big old golden retriever, playful and mischievous, and rarely ever listens to its owner. While over here, Mac's is more well-behaved and obedient, and they can get quite sassy sometimes. I'm not sure what to call it. It's hard to separate those two, so they try not to summon them at the same time.

They're also very affectionate to the monkeys especially the opposite ones.🐶🐎✨💕

😄I want a scenario where they let the horses stay instead of just poofing them out of existence so MK/MEI can play with the horses just a bit longer since they were begging them by giving them the puppy dog eyes (especially on Mei's side; she's a horse girl fan), and after a long while, the sheriff notices that his horse Nimbus was acting a little more strange and protective over the Smokey horse, letting them eat first, and just never leaving their side. All sorts of strange behavior on the Nimbus side. All he ever notices from the shadow horse is that they were a little sluggish, but he doesn't think too much of it.😗🤠🐵

🌟Until one day, BAM! This little cutie came into the world as a precious, adorable little cinnamon roll, prancing around like it owns the world.🧁😽🌎✨

🐎There's stupidly protective over this little guy.👿😡🦄🐴☀️🌙🌠

🐴And there's a huge problem. This little guy is clumsy as heck. He's new and everything, so of course he is, but he likes to adventure out without his horsey parents knowing or anyone else, and he loves playing games like tag his favorite, but because he's so clumsy, he causes damage that MK or his mentors have to fix, so everyone has to be on high alert and watch over the little rascal. LMAO 🐎🍼💥💕✨

🌸I hope you enjoyed this, I certainly had fun drawing this I wish there was more wild West monkeys fics there's some freaking cute💕✨

💥Aaaah! I love these freaking cow monkeys 😆💖

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #lmk #sun wukong #six eared macaque #doodle #monkey king #macaque #mk #wild west au #monkie kid au #shadowpeach #horsey Shadowpeach #scenario / headcanon #cowboy monkeys #Journey to the wild west AU #cinnamon roll horsey ✨

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trulyhblue · 3 months

Note

Could you possibly do a Grace Clinton x Reader please based on what Alessia mentioned on her podcast about Grace being a big hugger and like a sloth ! x also love your work ❤️

Just A Hugger

Grace Clinton x Lioness! Reader

Warnings: fluff, secret but established relationship, very short!

______________________

You were sitting on one of the bean bags for the first time all camp, snuggled under an array of blankets, cuddling your phone as you stared up at the TV in front of you. The room was dark, holding refuge to more than a dozen tired athletes, all clad in their sponsored trackies and hoodies. You were among the handful that had been able to snag a bean bag before they were all full.

Alessia and Ella shared one beside you, and Niamh and Lotte planted theirs together in order to create one combined. On the lounges behind you, many of the girls lay across one another, sluggish in their endeavours to soak up some team bonding while also maintaining the silence. Beth had made you a hot chocolate, and Esme had picked the movie, which was of no complaint to anyone, considering the City girl always seemed to know best. You could hear Lauren muttering about her latest Lego creation to LJ, who was somewhat endorsed by the topic of conversation, yet scrolled aimlessly on her phone as she hummed along in agreement, since Hempo’s tangents often let on for prolonged periods.

Your feet peeked out from under the blankets, your fluffy pink socks matching with your girlfriend, who was nowhere to be seen. There was a quiet hum of chatter as the movie played, and everyone was content with the mixture as it was the first time anyone had really gotten to bond with another teammate outside of training.

The euro qualifiers were tough, and your fresh arrival to the team made it even more difficult to mould into a routine. In such high stake games, you certainly weren't looking for any significant game time, but you were a halftime sub during England’s campaign against Sweden, and you were hopeful of getting the same minutes this time against France.

You were younger than most of the girls but had been around professional football for long enough to have known them all for quite some time. You made your debut at United only a few years ago before playing for City in the Youth groups. There you met the likes of Mary, Katie and Ella, who were the first Lionesses that you had truly gotten to know. You had eventually met Grace when she came from Bristol to United, and from then, you were both sent on loan to Tottenham, where your friendship blossomed into a North London Treasure. Fans are no longer sure Grace is a United player, but their NLD golden girl. You were born and raised Manchester-bound, and you were not prepared to face the fact that you were slowly becoming among the faces of Tottenham’s affiliates. It took you a while to process the hurt that came with your loan, and at some points, you envied how quickly Grace fit in with your teammates and the game they played. But you soon moulded well as a striker, especially as your relationship with Grace consumed your everyday life.

You had moved in together as friends and slowly found your deep feelings for her embedded into your heart. The hugs during celebrations, and the post-match interviews matched with longing stares and soft compliments. Fans jumped to the joyride of how calm and collected the two of you held yourselves, especially as a duo in the games. Grace was always helping you up after badly set tackles, and you pushed her away from unnecessary quarrels with opponents. The media would pick up on the assists Grace would give you, and the spectacular goals that came as a result of your chemistry. There weren't any other two players that had this sort of combination together, and clubs were quick to realise that if they wanted one of you, the other was instantly included.

It was only half way through the season when the two of you got together. It was after your win against Arsenal, and the celebrations mixed with alcohol were quick to loosen your tongue. It was a well-kept secret between you two, except your two best friends Charli and Celine had caught on about your feelings long before you had even gotten together. The media were just enamoured by your friendship with Grace. The fans adored the affection you showed each other. There was inevitable shipping rumours, but they never held much significance.

While you liked the privacy of your relationship, Grace wanted to make it known that you were hers. It wasn't like you kept it discreet. You had shown each other the same amount of PDA before you made it official, so there was minimal change when it came to the way you interacted with each other, save for the heavy affection shown in the showers after a match, away from prying eyes. However, Grace had found herself falling more protective of you. If someone had made a false tackle on you, she’d be all over it before you had even hit the ground. It was an anger that had never presented itself beforehand, but it was sure to unleash the second you winced into the grass.

You were very reserved on the pitch. There wasn't much you got up to, and your card count was very low. Grace was much more vicious, but held accountability when it was due.

Everyone just thought that it was the end-of-season drama, where teams were making last-second challenges that would aim to help their position on the ladder.

Now, as both of your loans with Tottenham were soon to be over, Grace and you had not only made yourselves comfortable in the London atmosphere but had created special bonds with the likes of Celine with Grace and you with Charli, which made the return back a little difficult to face. You were both extremely valuable to each team, and there had been an inexplicable improvement that United wanted a piece of, though Tottenham wanted to keep. You were conflicted with the history of your home, and the alliance of your new life, which added to the stress of debuting with the England Senior Team.

You felt a familiar figure crouch beside you, placing another layer of soft blanket over your figure. With a soft kiss on your forehead, you snuggled up to Grace’s side, immediately cradling her waist with your arms, engulfing her chest with your head, and listening to her steady heartbeat.

“God, you're so warm.” She muttered, pulling your thigh over her leg, letting your weight lean against her. You let out a silent laugh as Grace wrapped her arms around your shoulders, running her hand through the nape of your hair, playing with the loose strands.

You peered down at her feet, feeling the familiar fabric of your matching socks. “Where have you been?”

Grace tucked you into her chest further, breathing in your scent as she sighed. “Talking to Sarina. She wanted to see what I was doing with Tottenham?”

You looked up, carefully calculating the mood on your girlfriend's face. “What about it?”

“Just whether we— whether I was staying.”

“What did you say?”

“I told her I’d have to ask you.” Grace glanced down at you, smiling at the crease between your eyebrows. She pecked your nose, tracing your features subtly. “She said that she could see that we were dating from a mile away.”

You scoffed at that. “Bet she did.”

None of your national teammates mentioned anything, though some of the senior girls had caught on quite quickly that something had changed since the last time they had seen you in Manchester. Ella, who was usually the slowest had walked in on you two that very morning, yelping and whining over breakfast, making your face go red with embarrassment and Grace shoving Tooney over to Lessi, who, inevitably, now knows.

You had told Beth and Leah that you two had gotten close while partnered together at training. Leah had told you it was obvious, and Beth had given you a big hug before listing things she and Viv did to keep their relationship a secret before it got out.

Grace had told Mary, who told Millie, who told Rach, and soon enough pretty much everyone who cared had found out over the course of a day. They were quick to subtly congratulate you, but the attention had died down by the time dinner had past and you all were watching the somewhat indulging film Esme had put on.

You weren't keeping your relationship a secret, but neither of you found a point in letting it known. If someone asked, you’d tell them. Both of you were waiting for the media to catch on, but until then, you were content with the quietness of it all.

“I’ll go wherever you go, you know that?” Grace muttered, placing soft kisses down the coloum of your neck. You pressed your figure closer to her, sighing when her hands ran against your sides.

You held out your hand to grab hers, tracing the ridges in her knuckles. “What do you think? Tottenham or United?”

“I don't care, baby.” She spoke, peeking up from where her face hovered above your collarbone. “I would warm the bench if it meant I was with you.”

You laughed into the blankets, nudging your face into her neck. “You're a sweet talker, Clinton.”

Grace didn't deny the statement, smirking down at your cosy position against her. She wouldn't trade you for any contract offer in the world. No amount of money or years of playing football could equate to holding you in her arms.

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yourusername

Liked by Graceclinton, Leahwilliamson, and 98,367 others

tagged — graceclinton, alessiarusso, ellatoone

yourusername — training and socks 🧦🎀

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Comments:

user78 — if they are not in love then idk what love is

lionesses — pretty in pink! 💕

graceclinton — I love the way you look at me

graceclinton — feet on feet 🤢

^ yourusername — you love it 😙

wosofan — THE WAY THEY LOOK AT EACH OTHER I CAN NOT DO THIS THEY R SO CUTE

alessia — 😍

* liked by creator

user17 — im dreading the time their loan at Tottenham ends.

^ user67 — what if one of them stays at Tottenham and the other stays at United?

^ user66 — I will become violent if this happens

^ user16 — both teams will want them both. I doubt this will happen

charlottegrant — my little koala 🐨

^ yourusername — miss you char char 😣

ellatoone — less and I third wheeling

^ alessia — you’ll live tooney

^ graceclinton — double date?

^ user62 — Y/N AND GRACE CONFIRMED???????

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siddyyyyyyyy · 1 month

Text

Red Knight in Shining Armour (2)

Red Hood x Reader

wc: 6.1 K summary: You ask Red Hood for help from a creep and he does so. However, a funny coincidence happens; part one warnings: language, standard Gotham violence, kidnapping a/n: I originally wanted to split this into two parts, but then got lazy and just decided to keep it at that. (I also got a bit carried away)... Have fun!

You slept safely in your bed with the thoughts of Red Hood always protecting you. It may seem delusional, but you couldn‘t care less. Not everyone gets to be saved by a vigilante on a random tuesday night. And he personally drove you back home, it really makes you wonder if he does that with every civilian that needs help. Surely, he does or else it would have been all over the news by now, right?

So, going to work the next day was rather exciting. Your best friend and coworker, Evelyn, will most likely be more excited than you when she gets an earful about it. And as soon as you enter the backdoor, you start rambling off to her and she is indeed more ecstatic than you. You both start to fangirl, mostly repeating the whole situation to her as she squeals and jumps lightly on her feet, listening to your every word.

Of course that moment of excitment didn‘t last long as you had to take care of costumers, but you already told the story four times by now and every time with more details.

You really hope Red Hood will come by later for a sweet treat, having promised him that after all. However, the bakery remains to fill the regulars and other random people, the day growing more frustrating even though the usual people come in and it stays rather full.

An elder man notices you sigh out while leaning against the counter with your elbows, the man being one of the regulars.

»What‘s wrong, dear? You have been sighing all day, is there something wrong with the orders?«

There is nothing wrong with the orders at all, you just feel very sluggish now that you don‘t see your favourite red guy anymore. Since when he became your favourite? Since the moment he wrapped his arm around your shoulders… you could still feel the distinct weight of his arm, how he radiated an oddly amount of warmth against you, and how he kept you at distance from the creep. Since the moment he squeezed your shoulder in comfort.

You truly became insane over him. Just a little.

The elderly man waits for your answer, eventually receiving a simple shake of your head. There could be nothing you could say to him that he would belive you.

»Just a slow day, that‘s all. Nothing you need to worry about, sir.«

He huffs out lightly, finally getting off his chair and walks up to the counter.

»It‘s ‚Charles‘ for you. You‘ll get an extra tip today for being so pouty. Your baked stuff is amazing, don‘t beat yourself up about it.«

He lays the money for his order and a ten dollar extra bill on top of it, making you rethink of acting pouty every day now.

»Thanks, si- Charles. Have a nice day.«

You smile gratefully at him and take the money into the register, seeing him smiling back at your brighter face before he exits the shop.

----

Unfortunately for you, Red Hood didn‘t come along in the following days and your bus didn‘t drive away from you anymore. It could be really useful now, but it seems like the bus driver really despises you. Obviously it‘s good you don‘t need to walk home anymore and can safely drive by the bus, but you also miss getting saved.

A week went by after the miracolous saving, and you‘re still hanging on by the last thread of hope that he will eventually come by. But no, no signs of him all around and it‘s closing shift anyway. Your best friend left a while ago and you are always in charge of closing the bakery, doing the same tonight as every other night.

A big crash startles you, making you jump out of your skin, and before you can realise what‘s happening, you can only make out two large people fighting violently on the floor of the bakery. You quickly run into the kitchen to hide, feeling the sudden rush of adrenaline come over you and how unsteady your breathing becomes. You cower in a far corner, holding a big kitchen knife in hand and trembling in your curled up position.

You can hear loud thuds and some sickening cracks of something getting broken, them most likely moving around as you hear glass shatters move around the wooden floor. At every grunt and scream you flinch, flinching even harder once you hear a gun go off. Wait, someone‘s shooting? In your bakery? Your heartbeat quickens even more to the point of a near damn heart attack state, but you can‘t seem to move out of your spot. After some more triggers being put off, the fight seems to come to an end. But it seems the silence is even more terrifying.

After what seemed like hours, some police siren‘s went off and are on their way to your location. With uncertain and shaky steps, you dare to peek outside of the kitchen door and try to make out what happened. Looking though the kitchen counter seems to be difficult, and you hesitantly make your way to the counter to examine the scene some more.

Watching, you notice a big brooding shadow with white slits stand at the entrance… or what used to be an entrance, before someone decided to have a fight in your bakery. The speculations didn‘t last long as you notice another brooding figure in the very dimly lit room. You quickly recognize it as no other than Red Hood, the same man that saved you just a week ago. This is the perfect time to actually give him a treat, the worries of the current situation thrown away.

Quickly grabbing a big chocolate cookie from the leftovers, you don‘t hesitate to skip to the red helmet wearing mass of muscle, with a wide smile. With your adrenaline still being skyrocketed, it doesn‘t make this easy at all though. Your hands and legs are trembling, and you are still having trouble processing what actually happened in here.

Tapping the shoulder of Red Hood, you keep hold of the cookie in your free hand. He immediately turns his head to you and he visibly relaxes, but tenses again. Bruce is going to cut his head off later, for being unaware of civilians and possibly harming them.

»Y-your sweet treat for saving me last week.« You want to slap yourself with how your voice trembles and the fact that you just stuttered in front of him. But he doesn‘t seem to acknowledge it and seems to scan you and the cookie.

Batman also has his attention on you and the other vigilante hopes the words you just said made Bruce less angry towards him. You are clearly unaware of the tension between the two and just seem to be happy by just giving your hero of the night a cookie as a small thanks. Red takes the cookie from you, having to save it for later since he can't eat with his helmet on. He simply takes it and looks back at you with a subtle nod.

»Thanks, but you didn't need to.«

You wave it off, glad he didn't seem to notice your trembling hands and slightly dishevelled look. Well, he did not acknowledge it, but Batman will surely take care of that. Ambulances are on their way already and he is sure he will grow sick from the way you look so dreamy at his son.

»Are you hurt? We'll get you some help, just lay the knife down.«

Oh, the knife is something you've totally forgotten and now your trembling hands seem even more obvious. You sheepishly lay the knife away onto the counter and follow them outside, Red Hood guiding you to a nearby ambluance to let the doctors treat you. Once there, they can only patch up the light scratches you got from the few glass splitters that flew your way from the big window and glass door. You still have no idea how they could possibly fly through that thick glass, having paid quite some money for it.

Finally, they finished with the few scratches at your side and you are left alone with a warm cup of tea to soothe your nerves and keep you warm; a silver blanket around your shoulders to protect you from the biting february cold. You have the perfect opportunity to look over the scene. Police have already sealed your bakery off with yellow tapes, now looking around to put small cards with numbers on potential evidence. From this view, you can see the few blood pools on the wooden floor, knowing it will be a pain to clean that off. Surely your clients can understand and tolerate a small haitus over a few days, if not weeks, to clean everything and renovate some things.

Sighing out, you sip on your tea and already make mental notes on what to buy and work on in your bakery. Luckily your kitchen stayed unharmed.

»How you holding up? Enjoying your tea?«

You almost jump out of your skin again at the voice that came beside you, not having noticed him approach at all. Is this why they call him Nightwing? Getting out of your small surprise, you nod and just rest the tea cup in your hands.

»Good, tea is good too.« You smile back politely, the man beside you currently leaning against the door of the ambulance slightly.

»Yeah? Is this your bakery? We didn't mean to destroy your windows and floors, we can take care of that since it's the least we could do.«

Damn his charming smile and smooth voice. You simply nod in response but your mind drifts off. What is he doing here? Shouldn't he be in Blüdhaven, fighting crime instead of here? You don't follow the news that much, but you do know that he isn't normally here. Not in a situation like this anyway. You snap out once he speaks up again.

He eventually finds out that this bakery is indeed yours and you were about to close it before these two insane maniacs accidently flew right through the big window and continued their fight there. He also finds out about how Red saved you last week and got you home safely. Somehow you managed to even ramble off to Nightwing about it. And he seems invested in your story, almost fangirling with you but keeps his laid back and smug demeanor for most of the time.

The conversation gets interrupted as Red Hood grabs Nightwing by his collar, dragging him finally away from you and also almost starting a fight with him because of that.

»Dude, this is destiny! You can't tell me this is a very strange and funny coincidence; you saved her last week and now crashed into her bakery? That's... that's-«

»Shut up, dick! We don't even know each other.« Jason snaps back annoyed, really not wanting to talk about something cheesy like this, even when he privately enjoys reading romance novels, similar to this.

»Oh, come on, she seems nice and genuinely wants to get to know you! Now's your chance, Jay.«

»Fuck off!« Jason almost growls, earning a look from Bruce who is currently approaching them. It seems like the GCPD caught the criminal and are currently driving him to his new cell, being done for tonight, if nothing other happens after this.

You attempt to peek towards their way, but you don't see them anywhere anymore, having disappear into the night again. The ambulance drives you home that night, getting told to rest for tonight and don't worry about anything else. But you do worry about something. Are they really going to replace your window and half-broken door?

----

The next day felt a little less pleasent, the wind being stronger than yesterday. You make your way to the bakery and go into the front door this time, wanting to see how bad the damage really is. The entire front window is gone, the glass splitters laying on the floor inside and outside, and your door seems to jammed and half crushed. You don't even want to know how they managed to do this.

Not even a minute later, a small group of men approach you and look kind of shady. One of them stands now in front of you and holds out an envelope, it being almost as thick as a small loaf of bread.

»Miss, we are here to repair your window and door.«

He starts, expecting you to take the envelope full of money and just trust him with the repair. Where did they get so much money from?You study them, the small group of men standing behind him and also watching you, some assessing the damaged shop. They are all taller than you, dressed in a suspicious looking clothes, but they seem to have a good motive.

»And who are you?«

»I am Bill-« He gets slapped by the back of his head, getting whispered some words. His more chirp tone gets interrupted and clears his throat before speaking up.

»We were sent from Red Hood to take care of the damage.«

He said with a more monotone and low voice, glancing to the non-existent window. You slowly take the envelope from him and nod, remembering the words from Nightwing last night again and feel relieved about it.

They get to work once you agree, noticing the small truck near by as five of them walk over and now carry the new glass of window to your shop, the other five men cleaning the mess up, and making sure the window is ready to get installed. You almost get a heart attack as you watch them carry the new window, keeping your eyes on them while they work. In the meantime, you make sure to stash the large stack of money somewhere safe, guessing it's probably more money than needed, but you don't complain.

After probably two hours of watching them work, the men seem to be finished and now clean the big window, also making sure to clean the blood soaked floor, and not knock anything over. You've counted ten of them, meaning to give them some sweets in return.

As soon as they all group up again and get ready to leave, you approach them quickly with two bigger bags in hands. One has a good amount of cookies, the other has two boxes full of éclair with different fillings. They hold back their excitement and take the bags, driving back to their unofficial base and share the sweets with the rest. Mostly giving it to the kids since they are also curious on what they brought back.

Finally, the bakery seems to return to its old self. The usual costumers arrive and buy stuff, sharing their empathy with you and also leaving you some extra tips for the repairs. If you knew this could get this much money, you would have done this way earlier. Somehow.

The following days, the men of Red Hood appear in your bakery more often. At least five of them arrive each day and buy some sweets from you, mostly getting some éclair and brownies. You don't complain, actually finding it quite cute how they buy some of your baked goods and pay you a good amount of money for it too, wondering if they buy it for themselves or even for the Red Hood himself.

Red Hood, however, hates how obsessed they seem with your sweets. It's gotten to a point where there is always either a full or half-eaten cookie laying around somewhere. The children shouldn't eat so much sugar anyway, so he tries to control the amount of stuff they buy from your shop.

Once the six men arrive back from their small shopping trip, they get greetet by a grumpy Boss. He seems to be grumbling something to himself, several curses slipping out of him while he cleans his gun on the couch. But Bill does figure out some words, something about a bakery and... is he fussing about the baked goods? Does he want more or is he trying to figure out on how to meet you again? Whatever it is, he already has a plan. If boss seems upset, he is the first to make him feel better and solve any problems he may have.

----

You are currently closing the back door after taking care of the place, having cleaned it as usual and prepared the rest for the following day. It's been probably about two weeks since you have these new, polite, but also strange regulars. They come in every day around afternoon, order about two bags full of baked goods and leave the place with small smiles. Today wasn't any different, they even left a big tip again and muttered small thanks as the other day.

Turning around, you didn't notice to see a small girl standing before you, asking for help as she claims to be lost. Of course you help her, she looks so tiny and cute as her eyes water up and seems to be close to howliing her eyes out. You kneel down to be at her level, getting something cold hit against the back of your neck. You pass out. That is the last thing you could remember, being unconscious.

Red Hood doesn't know what's worse. The fact that his men kidnapped you or that Bill used his niece for bait to get you. Either way, he has no idea what he should do now. You are laying unconsciously in the arms of the so-called kidnapper, Bill, who organised all of this. His explanation was simple: 'But Boss, you looked sad and talked about her.' No, the fuck he didn't.

But before he could scold him out and land bullets in each of their heads, you stirr in his arms. Air seems to freeze and everyone watches your next move. Red tenses and is also relieved at the same time, glad they didn't knock you out too hard. Once you can blink your eyes open, you recognise the man holding you almost immediately. Still, due to not knowing where you are or how you got here, you swing at him and fall to the ground. You yelp and grab for your pepper spray in your pocket, trying to aim it to him but realise too late that the safety click is still on.

»Lady, calm down! We brought you to Boss- Red Hood, sorry!« Bill exclaims and holds his hands up, as do the other four men who stand by him. Your heart somehow calms down, but only a fraction until you look to the actual Red Hood standing by the other side.

»What?« You huff out quietly, still aiming the bottle of pepper spray towards your supposed kidnapper.

Red only groans, the sound coming off strangled through his helmet and the distortion mic he most likely wears. »Idiots. Out.« He gruffs out, them actually listening and hurrying out of the room.

Now, this is awkward. This feels like a bad romcom-soap your grandma would watch and try to convince you of how romantic it is. You slowly put your pepper spray back into your pocket and stand off the floor. At least he isn't towering over you now, but the height difference still feels humbling to some extend.

You clear your throat and try to figure out what to say. It seems like he is doing the same, staring at you while scrambling for anything to talk about.

»Do you... need a ride home? It's almost one in the morning, so...«

He eventually suggests and you wish you could at least read his body language, but he stays as still as a stick. But the request is appreciated and you nod, actually happy to be driven home by him again. He grabs an extra helmet for you and you both make your way outside, walking the few steps to his bike.

It's mostly quiet, and you don't really know what to say yourself, just letting him help you get on and ensure that you sit safely behind him. You wrap your arms around his torso, making sure to keep them higher up, instead of listening to your intrusive thoughts and letting them slip lower. You can't even wrap them fully around him, being able to touch your fingertips together at his chest, but not more. He starts driving in a shocking speed, making you clutch onto him tighter.

You squint your eyes together under the helmet, just hoping he isn't driving too fast and possibly going over the speed limit. But even if he was, he most certainly didn't care and you start to think he just wants to bring you home as fast as possible.

And indeed, it didn't take long for you to get home, getting off the bike with some help again. His bigger hands help you take off the helmet you wear, getting a bit sheepish and secretly flustered at how gentle he is.

»Listen, I'm really sorry for this. I don't know how they got the idea of... well, kidnapping you. I'm really sorry.«

He holds your helmet in his hands as he apologises and seems genuine. Like, genuinely sorry and guilty for this.

»No, it's fine. At least I got a free ride home.« It seems he didn't expect you to be so forgiving about it and take it lightly. Were you kidnapped often that you are reacting this way? He nods slowly, straightening up on his bike.

»Still... have a good night, then.«

He drives off afterwards, having watched you walk inside your apartment complex, just to make sure you actually went home safe. ----

The next few days were actually quiet for once. The usual buff men of his didn't come in for a while until, like three days later and bought a few cupcakes and cookies this time. It's getting warmer now finally, it being march now and it starts to rain less. Even though you live in Gotham, the weather seems to work out somehow. Especially today, the sun was out for maximum ten minutes and your day got better a whole lot. After dealing with the handful of costumers that come in everyday, you can prepare the bakery to close down. Once it's done, you close the door but halt in your steps as you turn around.

Red. A red motorcycle and the red man leaning against it with his arms crossed.

»What are you doing here? Kidnapping me again?«

You step closer to him and he shakes his head lightly, already handing you over an extra helmet. »No, trying to do the opposite. You seem to have a problem with getting home safe.«

You huff out amused at his answer, secretly flustered and appreciating that he will drive you home again.

»Is this going to be a routine? Because I do hope it will.«

You question while putting on your helmet, keeping your eyes on him. He seems to consider it for a moment, in reality not wanting to come off as a creep or stalker.

»I guess so, then. Seems like you would only appreciate it.«

He shrugs and helps you getting on the back of his bike once more, making sure your arms are tight around him before he drives off. This time he drives slower and probably more cautiously. Either way, you keep your arms tight around him. Getting to the point of arriving home is the saddest part though. You step from the seat and feel the need to return the favour. Standing before him, he also doesn't leave just yet, even when he just put your helmet away.

»Same time tomorrow?« You finally manage to ask, smiling sheepishly at him. He nods almost too quickly and straightens his back lightly.

»Always.«

And on that night, you weren't sure what you two were. Of course, he is your personal uber driver now, but that doesn't stop you from becoming even more crazy over him.

----

It had been about three weeks since he drove you home himself, and he is still doing it. The brief drive back made you two become closer. Well... you are mostly talking about your day and yourself during the ride while he listens and nods from time to time.

This time though, he doesn't wait for you as usual. Indeed, you are getting worried and hope you didn't overshare the other day and scared him off that way. Okay, maybe that was dramatic, but you are really unsure now. Should you go to your bus station or wait until he arrives? If you wait and he doesn't appear, you will miss your bus and have to walk. At least there isn't any ice around anymore, it being the middle of march. But you also have some hope that he will actually arrive and you just need to wait a little longer... a little longer, and... just a little longer?

An hour came by and you missed your bus already. It probably would have been better if you just went to your bus station.

A loud sound of an engine rips you out of your thoughts and you look towards the sound, instantly recognising the bike. He stops just right before you, making you flinch at how dangerously close he is.

»I'm late, I know - something came up, just hop on...«

He gestures behind his back and you hesitate briefly before taking a seat behind him. Red hastily hands you over your helmet and waits, sighing out. He sounds exhausted and seems unlike himself. Whatever happened, you are very curious and on the verge of asking. You would have, if he wouldn't have started driving in high speed. The bike lets out an ear-blaring sound and a high screetch against the asphalt, making you hold on tighter around him. You don't hear it, but Red grunts lightly at your touch, gritting his teeth under his helmet.

He parks clumsly near your door and stalls the bike, groaning as he tries to keep himself from wincing at his pain by his side.

»What happened?« You get off the bike and stand by his side, taking off your helmet while he tilts his head away from you. He shakes his head and waves a dismissive hand at you, struggling to puts his engine on again.

»C'mon, you arrived late, you seem to be in a hurry and you breath unevenly. Something's up.«

You try to be more demanding and he stops breathing for a moment at your observation. After what seems like an eternity he caves in.

»You know how to stitch people up?«

Standing in the living room in front of your couch, on which you sit on, you stitch up his gash across his side carefully. You explained to him shortly that your father was a medic in the past and thaught you a thing or two about that stuff. You live in Gotham, for God's sake.

He stays surprisingly still during the treatment, not uttering a word or wince during the entire procedure. That's when you start to get worried.

Finally, after several minutes of dead silence, you lean away and now bandage his cut up. »You had a full on gash on your side and still decided to drive me home? Are you completely insane?«

Now the scolding starts. He had hoped you would just patch him up and let him go, but it seems like you make him stay and listen to your lecture. He stays standing in front of you, silently observing you while you scold him out and stand right before him. Your friendship had reached the level of where you can easily joke around with each other and tease, but also express concern without coming off as weird or creepy.

»You could have just texted me and tell me you wouldn't pick me up, you know? I could take the bus instead.«

He shakes his head. Of course he does.

»Wanted to make sure you are safe.«

»No, absoulutely not. Don't put me over your health, that's stupid and dangerous.«

You voice firmly but he stays calm. You have every right to be upset and angry about his antics, but he really just wanted to make sure you are safe and sound.

"Now, eat the cookie and crash here. No arguing.«

He blinks, perplex about your final words. To be honest, he didn't pay attention to your lecture until now. The cookie in his hand is new too, not having felt it there before. The red vigilante listens to you and sits down on your couch.

You watch him, eventually leaving the living room to your own room, and get ready to sleep.

You don't see him the next morning, but he did text you just around four AM.

»Thanks for patching me up, doc. Will come by more often, probably.«

----

»So, have you asked her out yet? Even gotten her number, or nah? Do you even know her name by now, or should I ask her? Are you even listening to me?«

Dick asks through the comms, making a big deal out of it. It's only a matter of time when he notices that Jason turned his earpiece off and starts annoying him all over. This night's patrol is slower than usual; Nightwing gaining the chance to annoy and interrogate his little brother.

»Well... her cupcakes are good.« That smug bastard mumbles into the comms once he sees they are turned on again by Jason's side, the sly smirk evident, even through an earpiece.

»What? Please don't tell me you visited her fucking bakery, you-«

He gets interrupted by his brother, chuckling through the earpiece like the infuriating jerk that he is.

»She knows my name by now. Because I am a regular.« Dick taunts, hoping to get a reaction out of him and also know more about the situation he has going on with you.

»Yeah? Well, she knows the names of my men and I drive her home every night after her shift. You've got nothing on me.«

For the first time, Dick is actually positively surprised about what his brother said. If this is true, then why aren't you guys together yet?

»And...?« He presses on, hoping to hear more news about the new soon-to-be-girlfriend, not wanting for him to say that there is nothing else to discuss about just yet.

»What 'and'? There's nothing else.«

Dick groans heavily, having to lean his head back in frustration and stop his observation over the city. »You can't possibly tell me you haven't made a move yet. Seriously, are you that shy or are you genuinely this stupid?«

Jason rolls his eyes and continues to cruise through the busy streets, skipping red lights while doing so. »Don't tell me what to do, you're the one who fumbled the most.«

Dick is silent after that, deciding to continue patrolling and focusing instead of prying into his brother's love life. But not without some more 'friendly' bickering between the two. ----

A month later and Red Hood has been over in your place more often, mostly because of his injuries but also because of you. He wants to actually spend more time together and for you to get to know him. Currently, he is sitting leaned back on your couch, you sitting beside him while sorting through your med kit after treating his light wounds.

Your friendship has grown to that point, where you can lean against the other without much trouble and you already took a nap against his shoulder once after patching him up.

This night seems a little different though. Mostly for Red because he is determined to chance something in your friendship. Once you place the med kit back on your coffee table, you lean against his side and sigh out. He carefully wraps his arm around you shulder to keep you close, but also making sure to give you some space if you don't want to stay close.

»Tired?« He still hasn't taken his helmet off once during your time together, hiding his identity like no other. But you do know his first name, he has given you that after you'd asked rather sheepishly a while ago.

»Not really, just... a little.«

He nods back in response and feels his heart rate pick up as his thoughts wander off. He really does want for you to know him. To really know him, not just his name. After a longer moment of comfortable silence, he clears his throat lightly and shifts beside you.

»I want you to know me.« He really doesn't know how else to start this and be more vulnerable around you. You, however, don't react shocked or with any negative reaction, just listening and staying leaned against him with his arm gently around you. He takes it as a sign to continue.

»I'm... I'm going to take my helmet off, so... just don't freak out or anything.«

Red scoffs lightly to himself and reaches for his helmet with his free hand, slowly taking it off while he feels his heart pound in his ears. You simply watch, being nervous yourself for no reason. No, you are happy. Ecstatic even, and it gives you an absurd amount of feelings in your chest that you can't comprehend.

His face his bare now, hair falling lightly into his face. Jason finally looks to you and shifts on the couch to face you better. He looks way younger than in your head but even more so handsome and beautiful. His eyes search yours, any sign of rejectment or disgust but he sees none. Indeed, he can only see the amount of adoration and affection in your gaze.

»I really want to you know me and for us to actually be more than... this simple arrangement we have going on. You are, I mean... you make me happy and you're literally, hands down, the most friendly and understanding person I've ever met. It's probably a lot for you, but I genuinely want more and for-«

You really want to hear him out and hear what else he has to say, but your emotions take over. You cut his words off with a kiss, and not just some kiss. A meaningful, and passionate kiss that should make him know how much you adore him and love him. You put all your feelings into it that even he is overwhelmed with how gentle you are. As if he could break of crumble at any moment.

Both hands holding his face, he leans closer into you and kisses you back with just as much love. Neither of you know who broke the kiss first, but you both gasp for air. He leans back again and stares back at you, cheeks flushed and heart calming down slightly.

You both feel flustered now, letting go of him and stay seated beside him.

»I was kinda impatient, sorry...«

Finally he chuckles, sending you both into a fit of giggles and he hugs you tightly, almost crushing you with how strong he is. The night ended up with you both talking even more, sharing some fleeting kisses into the early morning before you have to go to work and he needs to leave to his own business. ----

Your relationship progressed in the following months, both being super cheesy with the other in private but both of you won't admit it to anyone else.

That's when the door rings to your apartment, not expecting anyone in particular as you bake cookies with Jason in your kitchen. He goes to the door to answer it, his cheek having some flour on it while his usual black shirt also has flour spots. Not that he cares.

He opens the door and there stands his oh, so lovely brother. His eye twitches.

»Hey Jaybird, I see you're having fun, but I-«

The door closes abruptly in Dick's face and there's only some muffled words to be heard from behind it, Jason ignoring those and walking back to you.

»Who was it?«

»Dickface.«

He grumbles, settling behind you to hug you and rest his chin on your shoulder. You want to scold him for treating his brother that way but you lose your words as soon as he nuzzles into your neck. That day went by great without any further interruptions from annoying dickfaces, spending the time with you in peace after turning his phone off as well.

Jason's won't ever let anything interrupt you both.

a/n: literally wrote this whole thing in one go, I was really determined to get this off my list. I really hoope it didn't come off as too rushed 😭😭 I hope you enjoyed it!

←MASTERLIST

#fanfic #x reader #jason todd #batfamily #jason todd x reader #batfam #dick grayson #nightwing #red hood #red hood x reader #dc comics #batman #bruce wayne #dc batman #friends to lovers #i think #jason todd fluff #red hood fluff

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comfortless · 4 months

Note

Dungeoneer!König and his gf... I mean, traveling companion

but really this is how most of their practicing plays out. 😵‍💫

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. sliiiight dubcon, breathplay?, masochism (without real injury), masturbation, oral (m receiving), absolutely unhinged “flirting”.

König knows his way around a blade. From the delicate daggers that thieves pluck from cloaks when the chance to strike is opportune, to the curved, dainty shashkas. His favorite would always be the doppelhänder, long things that strike fear into any man who sees it swung toward him. It’s why he chose to pay good money for one now, tossed a sack of gold at the blacksmith’s feet and demanded to have an exceptional blade crafted for him within a fortnight or so.

He really can’t afford to be too choosy nowadays: he doesn’t live on his own anymore. Before, his course was decided by tattered parchment pinned to whichever acceptable sliver of wood a wandering messenger could find. Now, it’s dictated entirely by the little knight who parades around like the finest tease in all the land. Even the world, he would gamble.

She whispers molten sugar into his ear on nights she’s drunk, lonely or especially sympathetic. Perhaps all three. She climbs into his bed: a tattered, linen sheet on the rough, cold ground most nights. Sometimes, it’s softer, a feather-stuffed mattress at an inn. Those always reeked of sin. Something carnal right where a couple must have lain together only a night prior, yet to be drowned out and washed away in the streams by some hapless innkeeper. It’s all went to his head, more than a little.

The lady knight sits across from him, tapping the rim of her mug of ale with such disinterest on her face that it’s König who feels sympathetic now.

She chose this tawdry place. Chose to don some silly armor and pretend it’s taking her to kneel in service to the King. The jobs never dwindle, but the motivation does. She never knows what she truly needs, but König always seems to.

“You want to fight? Me?,” she asks, to the wooden table rather than to him. Sluggish and gloomy with her own disappointment in this place, her own perceived shortcomings, something that he can’t fix. The King should have his head on a spear for not giving her everything she’s ever asked for, woman and benevolent thief or not.

“It has been a while, hm?”

She nods once, curls her mouth into a subtle smile that sends his heart swooping and something stirring down below.

“I suppose I’ve gotten comfortable.”

He knows well enough that he can make her less so, always seemed to with his groping and hovering. Even if she’s fed into it, a moth to flame, he’s never seen her bed anyone this entire aimless journey. It’s the rush of adrenaline that sends fire into her belly, makes her eyes shine and her legs tremble each time, never the flirtations.

König’s yet to win a bet, but this time he would wager that playing nice won’t grant him a thing. It never has with what’s dwelling in each dark corner of the kingdom’s underbelly, and it never has with her.

So when the sparring begins this time, it’s real.

The look of shock and betrayal comes immediate when she’s easily knocked back, her blade landing in the grass at her side.

“Again.” And again, and again, she says it as though the exhaustion isn’t already evident in the way her breathing grows heavy. Each time it’s the same, because the only thing he holds back from is severely wounding her. Even if he could, even if he knows roughing her up a bit is just how this should go.

“You are tired,” he observes, cocking his head to the side as she scrambles to search for her sword beneath the dim light of the moon. “Do you need a break, little knight?”

The look she shoots him is something akin to scandalized. König’s never been the one to taunt her like this. It’s new and tentative, and he prays it’s something she likes. The dresses and sparkling gifts from the dungeons did fuck all for any sort of progression, and by the end of the night she would know how dull all of this has become to him, too.

“I am not—“ A parry, a feint, a jab that lands on the air rather than striking true. Not enough. “I’m fine.”

It’s never been in this impromptu plan to shove her down, but that’s what happens when she doesn’t take it seriously. She moves towards him again. Steel clatters against steel, sinks forgotten into the grass. With a hand adhered to the back of her thigh and another at curve of her back, he drops her down too. No briny sweat clings to his temple, all of this is more simple than even the training he had as boy.

She doesn’t even kick at him, docile as any doe when she makes the assumption that all of this is playing pretend. Just another game: he’s less fit to be a monster than even the weak things dwelling in the dark in her eyes.

“I do not want your mercy,” he growls against her neck, weaves his fingers into her hair and tugs her head to the side. Just a little. Just enough. “Be sincere. Hurt me.”

“What are you talking about?” Her voice is a mere peep, lost to the wind that whips by and tousles all but the man affixed to her.

Explanations have never come easy for König. Not with words, not even with letters. He’s killed men without telling why, left wandering ghosts and their wives bereaved time and time again. It’s not something worthy of an answer, nor a thing he ever thought she would even ask. It’s never questions with her: only orders. Even a tamed horse can lash out, kick its master right off to trample if it sees fit. König is no different.

He licks a stripe up her throat, relishes in the way her breath catches and her hands rise to dig nails into his arms. His teeth catch right along her jaw, inhales against her cheek, and when she grows tense below him, claws her way down to his forearms, he knows she’s finally well aware of how this ends.

His hands study the expanse of her body, fisting the linen of her tunic upward to reveal all soft flesh and no more tricks. There’s an aching bruise on her neck, chest, below her ribs before the knight finally presses her palm to his forehead and kicks a rib to wind herself away.

“You’re so…” The word she searches for dies on her tongue when she scrambles over him, feels how greedy he truly is when his hips tilt skyward and the throbbing erection presses against her rear.

“Stupid, hm? Say it.”

She curls a hand around his throat and squeezes, her eyelids sinking to shield the dazed glimmer there as he slips a hand into the front of her trousers. A callused thumb brushes over her clit before drifting further, down where he realizes that he’s found a new treasure. She’s already wet.

“You are. Big fool. Brute..,” she grits out, delivers another blessed press of her hand. All another feint, because she remains stationed above him. Even mimicking the groan that rattles his throat beneath her palm with a sigh of her own. “I could kill you. You know that I…”

The knight dips her head to press against his chest as he spears a thick finger into her, and a greed surges through him at this sudden compliance. Poor thing is so winded that she does little else than blanket him and shiver whilst he grins as though he’s devil-possessed or the luckiest filth in the world. The thought of her fitting any cock- let alone his- seems unimaginable, so obscenely tight as she squeezes around one digit that it pulls even an appreciative grunt from him.

“You could try it.”

Her fingers dig into the skin at his neck, and none of it is enough. She’s so gentle with him, because maybe she even believes that she could. Killing wild men without masters or loyalties, just like the men in the stories she fancies. König guides a hand up to help her, presses down around his throat with more ferocity as she lifts her head and stares down at him like he’s truly gone mad.

“You want a leash..?,” she huffs, pretends she isn’t leaking onto his hand.

“Only if this—“ Another finger, a deliberate curl of both as they press to something soft deep inside of her. Something that makes her whimper rather than bark. “—is holding it.”

She only looks at him, sulky and humiliated when she’s pleasured, stumbles over some other mumbled insult as her back begins a slow arch. He guides his hand back to her thigh, pets along her softness and watches her with such adoration, a pleased purr rumbling in his chest.

“Look at you… cute thing.”

“Not a thing.” Her hissing only further goads him, because she does nothing to pull away, can hardly meet his eyes even with fire and hatred on her tongue.

“Ja… meine dame, is that right?”

Her breath catches as she grinds herself where she’s been impaled, legs trembling as his thumb brushes over the bud in repetition. It’s too soon, but he allows her to have her rapture, gaze drifting from her hair to the curve of a hip as her cunt gives a greedy pulse. All armor is shredded and ripped away, no defenses, catapults or blades, all are exchanged for soft cries and a burning ache. The hurried breaths she takes come almost stilted as she gives his fingers another generous squeeze, and he only feeds them into her with unhurried hunger.

“I want to feel it,” he huffs into her hair, savors the way she tightens the grip around his throat until his voice fetters to a whisper. “Just once, please.”

“No… not..,” is all she manages before the wave reaches the shoreline and she unravels over him. He feels the walls of her cunt throb as her head ascends to his shoulder, burying herself there in shame or bliss. The orgasm is soon but drawn out, some pent up need finally freed to open air, the very same longing that remains prevalent and urging inside of him. He fucks her through it with a bitter fervor, spearing and scissoring the fingers inside until her thigh draws up from around him and she detaches entirely to sit up at his side.

König is quick to rise before her, already untying the laces of what keeps him from the hope of sharing that same rapture she must have felt. The little knight only stares up at him with perplexed curiosity as his cock springs free, thick and long and angry after so many long months of suffering a callused fist or neglect. The tip drags over the seam of her lips as he takes the base of it into his palm, and the drooling maw above her only groans at the barest sensation.

“I will bite it off,” she declares, follows it up with a charming grin as though she hadn’t bruised him deeply hundreds of times prior to this.

“Ja, after… I don’t care.” And of course he does, but this is the closest he’s gotten to anything and he would be a fool not to take it, teeth or not.

She swallows pensively, then rolls her tongue over the slit of the enraged weapon in her face. Beads of salt aren’t fitting for a woman’s tongue, he knows, feels horribly dirty and miserable at the sight for a mere second before she takes him in earnest. Her lips wrap around him, send sparks of the purest euphoria through him.

“Is this how to shut you up, meine dame?”

Everything is gilded gates and ethereal meadows, the only damnation he suffers is the fact that he can’t move without bruising her: too big to feed himself down her throat, too untamed to hold himself steady should she ever allow it. He settles for her pace, watches in wonder as she allows half of him to reach into the warmth of her throat. The panting beast above her curls his hands into fists at his sides, certain that touching her would be the end of this boon of fortune.

Her tongue flicks over the weeping tip each time she draws back, hands grasping at his thighs to keep herself upright. Even when her teeth graze over the sensitive flesh, the cock in her mouth only twitches in agonized bliss. He melts before her, trembling in such pleasured fury that his nails threaten to break through the hardened skin of his palms.

“Ha… I need to… I’m going to come.” Only then does he reach for the back of her neck, forcing her in place to bear the taste of what’s to come. She doesn’t fight it, gazes up with a furrowed brow and delivers the gentlest bite along him. A warning or a dare. “Next time will be… fuck…”

Her titan crumbles before her as though wounded, can’t keep his hands in place then as he grasps at her face and his body grows taut. His hips press forward only to stutter as he tries in earnest to keep himself somewhat contained. She gags quietly when the thick ropes of seed meet the end of her, abrupt but as endless as the broken, pitiful noises that rise from his chest then. It’s miraculous how she swallows it all, bitter and hot as it spills in generous spurts.

It’s he who pulls back, giving the cock already softening a few more pulls before collapsing in front of her with acute love tucked away behind the glassy blue of his eyes. His little knight could feign indifference all she liked, but even those pretty tavern wenches and noble pricks she bats her lashes at could never have had a taste of what had just occurred here.

She wipes away spit and come with the back of her hand, tries her best to shoot him a look of disgust, but König does not miss the way that her eyes seem to twinkle in the same way his do now.

“I want to taste you, too,” he rasps, chest still rising and falling with rushed intakes of air. Even after he can’t keep himself from ruining any bit of sanctity or sanity within reach. Punctuates his statement by reaching toward her again, only to be pulled into the comfort of an awkwardly positioned embrace. His face lands against her breasts, and though he languidly runs a hand up her back, the other takes a tit. He toys with her in his palm, brushes a thumb over her nipple and rises up to kiss her cheek, silent pleas.

“You’ve had enough fun,” she answers, pulling his hand away with their fingers intertwined.

“You have more than just a mouth.” He flashes her the biggest, wettest puppy eyes he can manage. That may get him a scrap from her plate, but it’s worth nothing here. “I would make a good vater, yes?”

#Salome when you sent this i had to shyly hide my phone at work and pretend my jaw was not unhinging #SO them and the image is so cute too?! ;_;#i know you said don’t feel pressured to write but how could i not??#dungeoneer!könig

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gay-dorito-dust · 4 months

Note

hi hiii its my first time ever asking anyone idk how this works ( ;｀Д´)

i rlly love your writing, i often find myself staying up late reading through your blogs!! funny bcs u were the one who got me into jason todd (ФωФ)

anyways!!! i was hoping you could pls pls pls pls plssssss write smth about Jason Todd who has a lover thats a sleep-deprived uni student having a hell week and jason is like "bitch put google docs down and get some sleep, ur ass has been awake for 48 hours" all worried and wanting them to rest and reader is like "correction, 50 hours."

i hope it makes sense (´ 3｀)

tyyyyy!!! woopee woopee

Sorry this took so long to get to anon, I hope you liked it either way. And don’t stay up too late reading fics but I truly appreciate you reading my stuff, I’m glad you like them 🦦🐿️

A week.

An entire week Jason had noticed you have been forcing yourself to stay up at the dead of night, glued to your laptop all the while chugging energy drinks and cups of coffee as though they were going out of style, and for what? An assignment that determined your future at uni should you not get straight marks.

Jason thought it ridiculous that you made yourself sleep deprived over this but he knew that if he didn’t do anything about it, then you’ll continue this habit until you were well out of university, struggling to come to terms that you had well and truly burnt yourself out before you could properly start living.

So when Jason couldn’t fell you next to him in bed one night, like you promised him you would, and groaned as he got himself out of bed before making his way towards the kitchen where he’d knew you’d be.

‘What time do you call this?’ Jason asked when he saw you in your usual spot at the kitchen counter, hunched over your laptop with a thin blanket frapped over your shoulders and a can of energy drink on one side of the laptop and a cup of coffee on the other side. He hated what this stupid university has made you do just in order to get good grades, it was harmful, damaging and it would inevitably lead to health complications later on in life; If he could Jason would more then gladly march down there and threaten the professors to stop shoving a boatload of work onto their students, but firstly he has to get you away from that damn laptop and learn how to take a fucking break.

‘Mid-afternoon?’ You asked, not looking up from the bright screen of your laptop, where the words scrawled across it in an incoherent mess for your overworked brain to comprehend.

‘It’s actually 3:30 in the morning.’ Jason replied unamused as he crossed his arms over his chest and you winced when you saw that he was indeed right about it being three thirty in the morning. ‘Don’t you think it’s time that you shut the laptop off and get some sleep?’

‘But I-‘

‘Actually sleep.’ Jason cuts you off as you slumped back into your chair, unable to come up with a decent enough response to defend yourself with because deep down you knew Jason was right, you’ve hadn’t had a decent sleep in a long while and it was definitely taking it’s toll with how lightheaded you’ve become as of late.

You sighed and ran your hands down your face. ‘Jason I can’t, I’ve got-‘

‘An assignment to complete for tomorrow I know.’ Jason cuts you off again as he crossed the room to put his hand over the top of your coffee cup upon noticing that you were intending to take another drink from it. ‘But I look at you and can tell you can barely keep your eyes open for more than five minutes.’ He adds and upon your silence, he puts the cup aside as far as he could before doing the same with the half empty energy drink, and then finally shutting the laptop close despite your weak protests for him not to.

‘No, Jason my assignment, I need to finish it.’ You told him with slow, sluggish movements as you tried to pry his hand off of your laptop, all the while biting back a yawn. ‘Just give me five more minutes please and I’ll come to bed, promise.’

Jason had enough of this habit of sleepless nights, it ends now, the professors will have to understand and extend the due date for your sake as he remembered how often you had harped on about how important this assignment was for your overall grade; However Jason didn’t take neglecting your bodily needs lightly and would prioritise that over anything else,you could hate him all you wanted but he was only looking out for you and your wellbeing.

‘Sorry chipmunk but I can’t watch you do this to yourself for any longer than I already have.’ Was all Jason said as he then lifted you out of your chair suddenly causing you to yelp in surprise and cling onto him for dear life, now being more awake then you ever have been five minutes ago, as he then proceeded to carry you back towards the bedroom before unceremoniously dropping you onto the bed.

‘Jason, I seriously needed to get that assignment-‘

‘We are going to sleep, end of discussion.’ Jason said with finality as he crawled under the covers and quickly held you against his chest as tightly as he could, rubbing his hands up and down your back soothingly. ‘I know how important this assignment was for you sweetheart but I’d much rather have you well rested, clear minded and healthy than to ever to have you pass out in my arms from exhaustion. I want my baby happy and healthy and you are neither of those things right now.’ Jason whispers into your ear, kissing the side of your head a couple of times before resting his forehead against yours so that he was looking into your weary half lidded eyes.

‘Look at you, you can barely keep your eyes open.’ He spoke with worry laced in his words.

‘You’re really warm and comfy jay birdie.’ You murmured, feeling the need for sleep grow ever stronger the longer you stayed in his arms as it fogged your mind.

‘I know, so please we can talk to the professor in the morning and sort something out, but until then no more late nights understand?’ Jason said firmly as he held you a little tighter, he just wanted you to get a decent nights sleep and be looked after properly but all these late nights weren’t cutting it and were making your situation worse, how were you meant to get anything done when you were half out of it due to overworking and lack of a sleep schedule? Were the professors at your university thinking they were teaching robots instead of humans with breaking limits?

‘Okay I understand, I love you.’ You replied sleepily as you burrowed your head into his neck, falling asleep in record time as Jason stayed awake a little longer as to make sure you were properly asleep before following suit, watching over you in the dream realm as he did the waking one.

#dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc fanfic #dc fic #dc comics x reader #dc x y/n #dc fanfiction #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagines #red hood x you #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood imagines

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luvrxbunny · 1 year

Text

his favorite taste

Pairing: Vampire!Bf!Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Summary: Eddie tastes you for the first time.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, dry humping, blood, blood consumption, vampires, cum in pants(?) (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 3.7k

A/N: I’m going based on TVD vampires so Eddie has blood and a beating heart as long as he replenishes it with human blood. Also, I think I got possessed while writing this idek if its coherent

You’re lying in bed facing Eddie, admiring his face, how much he still looks the same. Even though he isn't.

It’s been about a month since Eddie came back, different. He’s a vampire… when you boil it down. He just doesn’t like the term, he thinks it’s silly. In the month he’s been back he has explained everything to you, what happened to him, his new urges and needs. You know he goes out once a week to feed, he never told you when and he never lets you see his fangs but you’ve memorized his patterns. The only day he’s always too busy to come over is Sunday.

It’s Saturday and Eddie is lying in your bed. You're high. He still rolls for you, despite now being immune to the effects. He likes to watch you smoke, watch you get sluggish, sweet, soft, and sensitive for him. He’s watching you as you admire his face, as you bring your hand up to trace over his cheek, down his jawline, and to his lips.

You’re motions are mindless, you’re barely aware that you’re doing them. You imagine what his fangs look like as your fingers trace the outline of his lips. Your thumb comes to press into his inner lip when his breathing picks up.

He’s more sensitive. He forgot to mention that to you. His senses are heightened and amplified by one another. He is hyper-aware of your warm fingers against his cold lips. He even gets a whiff of the blood that's rushing underneath. His breathing kicks up for a moment, trying to fill his lungs with the scent before he stops his breath short. His fangs are trying to push their way through his gums, his instincts shouting at him to sink his teeth into your soft, plush thumb. He knows you’d taste so sweet, he could probably get a nice buzz going too, with how much weed is in your system. He squeezes his eyes shut as he wills his fangs to stay in place, pretending like he can’t already feel them pressing against his top lip.

His lips start to tremble against your fingers and confusion crosses your face. Then you feel his fangs press against his lip, pushing it into your finger. You gasp softly and push your thumb up into his mouth to press your thumb against his fangs. You’re excited, your curiosity causing you to move before you think.

He can feel your fingers on his fangs. He feels the ridges of your fingerprint sliding over the smooth bone. It shoots like lightning through him sending the little bit of blood he has left to his cock. His eyes are pressed shut as he tries not to move a muscle.

You aren’t considering Eddie at all. This isn't about him. It’s about you exploring his new features. They’re longer than you expected, white and glossy with his spit. You smile as you run your fingers from the bottom of his front teeth, across to press against the point of his fangs.

You don't think about how sharp his fangs must be.

He punctures your thumb immediately, red blood pooling on the surface.

It drips into his mouth and his eyes snap open. He grips your hand roughly, pressing your wrist against his face to hold your thumb where it is while he sucks all the blood he can from the wound. He can’t think. He can’t think about how he might be hurting you, how he shouldn’t be drinking you up like this. He can only think about your taste.

You watch his eyes shut tightly as he moans against your thumb. His lips are wrapped around you firmly as he sucks as hard as he can. You watch him gain color, his lips becoming pink again, he whimpers out something that sounds like a sob before pulling your hand away from his face, and shoving it back down against your stomach. The way he forces you, the way his hand spreads over your stomach past your wrist, has you dampening your panties.

Eddie’s eyes are still closed as he tries to calm down. He’s hungry, and he knows that you’re more than willing to feed him. He opens his eyes slowly to find you staring right at his lips. He goes to lick them subconsciously but a moan slips out when he’s met with more of your blood. It has your eyes snapping to his.

He looks into your eyes trying to decipher how you’re feeling, if you’re scared of him. He watches you bite your lip and smile softly at him before asking an innocent question. “Do I taste good, Eddie?”

He knows it’s a genuine question but he also knows that you hoped it would do something to him. His fangs peek out from under his lips when he gasps before he buries his face in your pillows and groans. You’re giggling at him and yourself, the weed still coursing through your system. You bury your face in the pillow you’re on to try and silence your laugh, Eddie, and feel it. He can hear your laugh right next to his ear while he’s mulling over what you said. It has him hard and grinding his hips gently into your bed, wishing he had put on some boxers.

You lift your head to look at his curls. You stroke them gently and he groans into your pillow again before turning over to see you, his fangs hidden away once more. You’re still smiling at him with all your sweetness and it makes his heart skip a beat. “Why’re you asking me things like that baby?”

Heat rises to your face and your features turn embarrassed. This piques Eddie’s interest. He sits up in your bed, waiting for you to answer his question. You look at your bedsheets, twisting them under your fingers while you consider how to answer him. In the end, you choose; honestly.

“I just… Okay so obviously I don’t know what blood tastes like. I don’t know if different blood has different flavors to you or if maybe the flavors are based on blood type?” Eddie has confusion resting on his face as he wonders if your answer leads anywhere. He’s nodding at you nonetheless, not wanting you to get insecure about what you’re saying. He likes this when you’re high enough that you’re not making a lot of sense to him but making perfect sense to yourself. You’re so cute like this, looser. Your secrets tend to spill out this way.

“Do you know what I mean? I just-” You huff out, frustrated and unable to explain yourself. He is so in love. He’s trying to hold back a smile at the pout that’s settled on your lips. “It’s okay baby. Just think about what you wanna say.”

Eddie holds your hand, his thumb stroking over it while he watches your eyebrows press together in deep thought before you start speaking again. “I just don’t understand why you don’t just feed off me..." His thumb halts its movements and you start to shrink into yourself.

Eddie is breathing deeply while considering your question. His thumb starts moving again, releasing a breath of relief from you. He knows that you think about it. He can hear your heart speed up every time he goes near your neck, even when he’s kissing your hands. He’s even thought about it. He thinks about it all the time. He knows you taste good. He wants to have your blood pouring into his mouth every time he sees you.

Unfortunately, he has zero trust in himself. Every time he thinks about tasting you, his amount of excitement stops him. He doesn’t trust that he has the amount of restraint he would need to exert to stop, he is terrified that he’ll suck you dry.

“I’m a little dangerous, baby. I’m stronger than you remember? You- you wouldn’t be able to push me off”

The heat that rushes to your core surprises you a bit.

Eddie can hear your heart speed up and it hurts, the split second that he assumes you’re scared of him feels like a lifetime. Then he feels you trying to push your way into his lap, and lets you. You place yourself on top of his thighs lightly before scooting up to sit your core directly above his. You sigh softly when Eddie’s boner presses into you perfectly. Your arms wrap around his waist before you look back up at him.

“I think I’d really like it.” Your words are starting to slur, it's late, and you’re high and unbelievably turned on. “You sucking my blood, I mean. I think it would feel really good, Eddie.” He’s twitching insanely from the confines of his pajama pants. He cannot believe the words coming out of your mouth. You won’t look at him, like you’re embarrassed by what you’re confessing like you don’t know what it's doing to him. You’re idly twisting your fingers into the fabric of his wife beater, your hips moving against him subconsciously. His hand comes you tilt your chin up so that you’re looking at him. The love, innocence, and arousal in your eyes take his breath away.

“I think you might. Uh, but-” He can’t focus. You're looking up at him with such admiration. You want him to drink you up so badly he can’t handle it. “Um. I- if we do,”

Your eyes widen and you press yourself against him harder, leaning into him, your chest pressing against his which is rumbling in laughter right now. “I said if, sweetheart. If we do, I cannot have your neck, that’s… It’ll be too much for me, all that blood flow..” He trails off as his gaze concentrates on the junction of your neck. He takes a steadying breath before tearing himself away, refocusing. “It’s just too easy for me to.. drain you from there.” He rushes the last part out, embarrassed at his lack of restraint.

You’re looking into his eyes as he speaks and looks back into yours. You’re trying to get your brain to work, to focus on more than the way Eddie is pressing into your core, the way his breath is hitting your face as he speaks, and the way he’s looking at you. You can see the ghost of a smile on his lips as he watches you try and rally the few stray thoughts you have left in your head. You focus as much as you can and offer him your only idea. “My wrist?”

He thinks about it for a moment before shaking his head at you, hurting your little heart in the process. “Still a vein baby, too much flow.” His sentences shorten as he gets dragged into your pool of yearning. An idea finally dawns on him. He twitches in his pants at the thought of actually being able to consume you. “Your hand- I can- It’ll run dry on its own”

You started nodding before he could even finish his sentence, your hand right in front of his face by the time it ended. He can feel the warmth coming off you. His gaze cautiously shifts from your eyes to your shaky hand. He can smell the blood underneath and his mouth is watering at the prospect of sinking his teeth into it. He pulls your hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss against your palm before wrapping his hand around your wrist.

You wait, buzzing in his lap, for him to put his mouth on you. Your hand rests over his mouth gently, your thumb on his chin and your elbow hovering over his shoulder. Eddie’s eyes are closed lightly as you hear him inhale the scent emitting from your palm. His lips press against your palm as you feel his fangs slide out underneath them. His eyebrows are curved inward as he looks back into your eyes, he’s scared.

You bring your other hand over the side of his face, stroking along his jawline before coming behind his head to gently push his mouth against your hand. You watch him closely, looking into his eyes to watch for refusal. His eyes stay on yours as his trembling lips part for the meat at the base of your thumb. You press your hand into his mouth and Eddie whimpers against it before sinking his teeth in.

Pain shoots up your arm, tingling between your legs. Eddie’s eyes roll so far into his head that you see all white before his eyelids shut. He’s loud, groaning at your taste and moaning when his hips rock into yours. You watch him drink you up, he’s so messy, blood is all over his lips, smearing on the side of his mouth. You’re still stroking his hair as he devours you. You can feel your blood rushing like it’s all trying to get into Eddie. Your hips won’t stop moving against his as they buck into you.

He drinks all the blood that flows out of your wound and removes his teeth. A moan shoots out of your mouth when you see your blood all over his lips, all over his teeth, his fangs. He smiles down at where you’ve dropped your head against his shoulder and starts licking around his bite. He’s still looking at you as he does it, watching the way your eyelids flutter as you look up at him, so lovingly for someone who just bit you.

His gaze leaves you only when he stops getting blood from your wound, he wraps his lips around it delicately and sucks to get more. You feel his shoulders drop a bit in disappointment when nothing comes out. You drop that hand to his opposite shoulder from the one you’re on, and it comes behind to cradle his neck before pulling him in for a kiss that he rejects.

You sit up and look at him, upset, hazy, and confused. You’re met with his wild eyes and mildly apologetic face. “I still have your blood on my face baby.” He’s speaking in a hushed whisper as though the sentence were some revelation. “It’s my blood, Eddie.” You respond with an incredulous giggle, your arms tightening around him before attempting to kiss him again. Only for him to pull away, again. “Yeah but my- my fangs are still out and I’m- and it’s dangerous”

You clock the unfinished sentence regardless of his attempt to cover it up. You analyze his face, trying to figure out what he was going to say but to no avail. “You’re what Eddie?” Your tone is accusatory and he notices, his eyes leaving yours the moment you voice the question. You mull over his sentence again, “Dangerous?”

He turns his head away and you watch as his tongue nervously darts out to lick his lips, his eyelids flutter gently before his iris shoots to the corner of his eye, checking to see if you noticed. That’s when it clicks.

He’s still hungry.

As you think about it, of course he is. You don’t know how much he drinks from other people. You know that he’s holding back, that he’s scared, of course he wouldn't drink his fill. You’re still lost in thought when Eddie turns back to look at you, he waits for you to look up at him but you never do. “Can we just drop it?”

You look up at him with a smile that baffles him. You come up to kiss him on his cheek as he watches you expectantly, waiting for you to explain yourself.

“Your needs matter Eddie, you can’t keep them from me. I need to know what you need for me to give it to you and it’s so much easier if you tell me up front.” You bring your unwounded hand to his face and slide your thumb across his lips, gathering the smeared blood as best you can before pushing it into his mouth. He’s stock still as you press your thumb against his tongue, his only movement is his lips closing to suck up every drop. You hold his eye contact as you pull your thumb from his mouth and press your palm to his mouth. “I know you want more Eddie”

His eyes water as his lips begin to tremble against you once again. You bite into your lip when you feel Eddie harden up underneath you again, pressing up against your clit this time due to the way you’re angled toward him. His eyelids flutter when his clothed tip pushes up into your plush lips.

He keeps looking into your eyes as you press his head to your hand, as you did before. He’s holding back whimpers as he sinks his fangs into the soft skin of your hand. He feels your skin push, break, and slide against him. He can feel the gushing of your blood as it pushes through the puncture he’s made in your skin, he can feel the warmth as it surrounds his teeth, spilling into his mouth.

Eddie starts thrusting up into you like he can’t help it, his hands are on your lower back and hip, pressing you against him just the way he wants it. His eyes are on you as he continues to drink his fill, he’s tracking you’re reaction, the way your hips speed up when he presses his teeth harder into your wound.

He feels it, he’s getting high off your blood. His body getting more and more sensitive the longer he drinks you up.

You can feel your pussy leak into his pants, getting his cock wet with it when he twitches up into you. Your eyes slip shut as you begin to grind against him with purpose, feeling something starting to tighten in your stomach. You watch Eddie as he drinks down all the blood he can, moaning into your hand while looking right into your eyes. You hold his contact as you feel your climax build. Eddie can feel your muscles contracting over his cock and it has him spilling pre-cum through his pants and smearing on you. His lips finally part from your hand and he’s immediately kissing you.

You can taste copper on his lips, in his mouth as he moans into yours. He’s brought one hand up to push your face into his while he keeps the other on your lower back, guiding you against him. He’s pressing his face into your neck, inhaling your scent greedily. “Oh fuck. Thank you so much, baby. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

You moan lewdly into his ear while he expresses his gratitude, his hips thrusting up into your pussy like he’s fucking you. “Eddie,” You drag his name out into a whine in a way that has his hips stuttering against you and him moaning out into your neck. “Holy shit- Eddie I’m so close- fuck.”

He’s in his own world, grunting into you gruffly, his whole body tense as he chases his high. You can feel his mouth open in a silent moan before he’s shaking and cumming against you, his face still buried in your neck, eyes shut tight. He keeps pulling you over his cock as it pulses, he doesn’t have any rhythm but you just want him to feel good. You’re so close, right there, but you can’t get over the edge, and Eddie is going to be out of commission for the night. You almost accept your fate, that you’ll have to take one for the team but then you feel them. His fangs shoot out as he releases one last howling moan and goes limp on you.

You feel his fangs scrape over the skin of your neck, ever so slightly but it sets your whole body alight. Pleasure shoots up your spine, straightening your spine before you’re gripping Eddie with all the strength in your body. He moans and his hand comes around to toy with your clit. His mouth opens and filth come out.

“Such a good girl for me, baby. Letting me drink you all up, got you all messy in your panties in the process huh?”

He circles your clit once.

“Fuck you tasted so good too, like sipping on fucking juice, sweetheart. F- felt like I was gonna cum from the moment I could taste it.”

He presses his thumb against your clit, hard.

“You’ll let me do it again right? Your blood is my new favorite taste- shit, I might be addicted to you already, baby.”

You’re gushing. Your whole body is trembling in Eddie’s hold from the force of your orgasm. You slam your eyes shut as you moan around the syllables of his name. Your hips shove themselves against Eddie’s fingers and you whine for him while soaking your underwear.

Everything is fuzzy when you open your eyes again, you can hear Eddie cooing at you in your ear, he’s stroking his hand over the expanse of your back as the other one grips the back of your neck, holding you to him. You feel a rush of air and you’re sitting on the kitchen counter.

“Gotta stay hydrated, baby you uh, you lost a lot of blood.” He chuckles to himself nervously before grabbing the cup of water and holding it out for you. Your arms don’t attempt to move from where they’re wrapped around his neck, he’s so warm and you’re sure that glass is cold so what’s the point. You’re just staring at him with you’re adorable fucked out expression, he smiles fondly before holding the cup up to your lips for you. You take a few sips, drinking about a quarter of the cup before pulling away to collapse into Eddie. He whispers “Good job, baby.” before placing a kiss on your forehead.

Another rush of air and you’re back in bed, your head on Eddie’s chest with the blankets pulled up to your neck. You try to hide your smile as you realize this is the most of Eddie’s vampire side that he’s ever showed you.

“What are you thinking about? Can hear your heart racing.”

“Just about how much I love you.” You respond with a delirious giggle. “Every part”

You hear Eddie take a breath before he pulls you fully on top of him and kisses you stronger than he has in the past month. “I promise that I love you more, baby”

You drift to sleep as Eddie watches, all night.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading!! Please please please give any feedback you may have! I want it all!

#eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things #stranger things smut #luvrxsmut #luvrxfics

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permanentswaps · 10 days

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SwapFindr (Pt. 3)

Over the next week, Andrew’s responses were sporadic at best. Every time I tried to reach out, I’d get some version of the same dismissive reply: “Busy, can’t chat now” or “Let’s talk later”—but that “later” never came. Yet without fail, my Instagram feed was filled with clips of him at the gym, shirtless, flexing, and showing off his form. He had even started making workout videos, giving advice on routines, nutrition, and motivation. People were eating it up. His following was slowly growing, with comments like “Goals, bro” and “Looking shredded, man.”

Meanwhile, I was struggling. Big time. Andrew’s chunkier, stockier build felt heavy and sluggish compared to what I was used to. No matter how hard I tried to get comfortable, it just didn’t feel like me.

Sexually, it was even worse. I’d told myself when we first swapped that I didn’t want to do anything sexual in Andrew’s body—it just seemed too weird. Not only because of how foreign the body felt, but because the bulkiness made me feel completely unsexy. I avoided mirrors as much as possible, hating the way his broader chest and softer stomach jiggled when I moved.

I tried to distract myself. I hung out with Andrew’s friends, trying to keep up appearances during the swap, and that’s how I ended up spending the night with Eve. We were just supposed to be hanging out, but as the night wore on, things started to shift. She’d always been flirty with Andrew, and now I was in his body, I guess I was supposed to play along. The more I resisted, the worse it got, until eventually, I couldn’t anymore. The hormones, the frustration—it all took over. One thing led to another, and before I knew it, we were in bed together.

Afterward, I lay there, staring at the ceiling, feeling a mix of shame and guilt wash over me. Eve was asleep beside me, her body curled up under the covers, while I felt that familiar post-nut clarity sink in.

I grabbed my phone and opened our chat again, my heart racing as I typed out the message.

L: Hey Andrew, dude, you really gotta respond… I fucked Eve.

Andrew's response came within seconds this time – figures.

A: Haha! Look at you, man! A stud. Eve's been trying to get with me for years, and I always pushed her off. Guess you made her dreams come true, huh?

I stared at the message, my stomach twisting. He thought this was funny? I had been freaking out all night, unable to sleep, my mind racing with every worst-case scenario imaginable. I fired back a response, my fingers shaking.

L: It’s not funny, man. She didn’t want me to wear a condom. I was so horny, I wasn’t thinking straight. I hadn’t jerked off in, like, two weeks. What if I got her pregnant?

The response took a little longer this time.

A: Relax, dude. Eve’s on the pill. You’re fine.

L: Are you sure?

A: Well… I mean, she’s kinda spacey sometimes, but she’s probably on top of it. I wouldn’t worry too much.

I clenched the phone in my hand. Probably? Was that supposed to make me feel better?

L: Can we just call? Please?

A: Can’t right now, bro. I’m actually on a date with Jack—the journalist I told you about last week. Dude, it’s going so well. This is our third date this week. He’s so smart, man, you’d love him.

My jaw dropped. He was still seeing Jack? I thought he was just fooling around, but three dates in a week? That was serious. And in my body?

L: Andrew, you can’t get into a serious relationship with someone in my body.

The dots appeared instantly this time.

A: Oh come on, don’t be a hypocrite. You just fucked one of my closest friends and came inside her. That’s way more serious than a few dates. Besides, at least Jack can’t get you pregnant in this body. But that won’t stop us from trying tonight ;)

My heart was pounding. He was clearly not taking any of this seriously.

A: Honestly, man, I’m setting you up to have the perfect boyfriend when you’re back in your body. You always struggled with relationships, right? I’m actually doing you a favor.

L: Jack is falling for you, not me.

There was a long pause before his reply came, almost as if he was dismissing everything I’d just said.

A: Oh, gotta go. He just got us our drinks. Talk later, bro.

*Andrew logs off*

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mead-iocre · 7 months

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Football Scarves and Football Kits | Leah Williamson x Reader

Football Scarves: these are a popular accessory among many football fans. They are a subtle or not so subtle way of displaying your support for your football club by adorning yourself in your club’s colours, slogans or logo.

You glance down at the red and white scarf wrapped around your neck. It wouldn’t be difficult for the other passengers on the tube to guess which football match you were attending thanks to the glaring Arsenal Football Club logo that is printed on the bottom of your scarf. If that wasn’t enough, the new season’s classic red and white Arsenal home kit you are wearing underneath your jacket should be a good enough indicator.

The familiar rhythmic clickety-clack of the wheels as it rolls over the joints and tracks should be relaxing as a frequent commuter, but it does nothing to sooth the nerves in your stomach. The faster the train glides across the tracks, the closer you are to your destination. The destination being Emirates Stadium. You were attending your first ever football match– an Arsenal Women’s football match to be more precise. You weren’t necessarily a long-time supporter of the team or even a fan of the sport.

You were dating one of the players.

From what you knew of Leah Williamson at the time, she was a football player for Arsenal football club and the England national team. You knew she was a great player considering she is a regular starter for both club and country, but that was pretty much all you knew of the England captain. Everything that you knew about football comes from the few times you were forced to participate in the patriotic practice of cheering for your national football team during every major international tournament. You had watched the England mens team play– and consequently lose– during the last mens Euros, and you figured you might as well watch the women’s in the 2022 Women's Euros. Luckily, the results this time were favourable and you were lucky enough to witness the Lionesses parade the trophy at Wembley Stadium thanks to a friend who managed to secure you some tickets.

Once the post-Euros hype had quieted down a bit, and your friends got tired of using the ‘It finally came home!’ excuse to party, you carried on with your life. You were a currently a post-graduate student at university. Your days consisted of lectures, revision, eating, sleeping and repeat; so imagine your surprise when during one of your very very rare night out with friends, you were introduced to the same England captain who had lead her team to victory.

Apparently you and the defender had loosely connected social circles and found yourselves in the same party hosted by a friend of a friend. A few drinks later, and a conversation that was far more interesting than the textbooks waiting for you at home, you and the blonde had followed each other on social media and promised to stay in touch once in a while. However, it wasn’t long before the ‘once in a while’ instagram likes turned into daily texts and frequent FaceTime calls.

It wouldn’t be until a few months later that the blonde finally asked you out on a date, and the rest was history.

——————————————

You began to notice the growing number of Arsenal fans inside the train carriage. People with red and white scarves, beanies and caps dotted along the aisle of the train. Some fans sported kits from previous seasons that greatly contrast your usual view of men and women in black and grey business attire. This time there was a lot more colour and a lot more chatter, vastly different from the usual quiet bustling of a dull early morning commute. You would be lying if you didn’t admit that the excitement around you was doing a good job of quelling the initial nerves you were feeling.

Once the train stopped at Arsenal station, it was a flurry of fans donned in Arsenal gear everywhere. Stewards were present to direct people towards the exit, and it soon became a slow and sluggish walk towards the ticketing machines. You faintly heard the familiar names of the players being discussed by a group of giggling girls, and watched from the corner of your eye as a little boy animatedly told his mum about the goal that Beth Mead scored during the last match.

Once you were through the ticketing machines, you are greeted by a larger crowd of fans just outside of the station. The striking colours of red and white filled the streets at every corner that your eyes could see. You weren’t exactly sure where to go, but you figured following the crowd of Arsenal shirts was a good start.

It wasn’t too long before the aromas wafting from the many food stalls scattered along the pavement caught up to you. The air was a tantalising blend of savoury, spicy, and sweet notes, weaving together. The scent of sizzling smoky meats, mingling with the earthy fragrance of freshly chopped herbs and vegetables was almost hard to ignore. You recognise the faint aroma of caramelised onions, and the occasional whiff of freshly baked bread or frying dough. You mentally remind yourself to stop by the food stalls next time.

Expertly weaving through the clusters of people around you, you catch sight of a few other stalls. Some stalls were selling merchandise– from enamel pins and beanies to shirts and flags adorned in the Arsenal logo. Your eyes briefly caught sight of a scarf with ‘Williamson’ and your girlfriend’s face printed on it. You add the scarf to your mental wishlist of things to buy soon.

As you settled into your seat, surrounded by a sea of red and white, the anticipation was palpable. Leah had offered you a seat in the section exclusively reserved for the players’ friends and family but you informed her that you had already bought your own ticket. Initially, your girlfriend had argued against it, saying that she would love it if you sat with her family. However, you argued that you haven’t even officially met them yet and you would prefer to meet them at an occasion where the focus is not on a few women running and kicking a ball around on freshly cut grass.

“The friends and family section is lot less rowdy, baby. And you get food and stuff throughout the match”

“But I want to experience the craziness that you often yap about. You always brag that your fans have the coolest chants and that. I won’t be able to experience that if I was sat far away from it all, sweet”

So with a grumble, an eye roll, and a not-so-enthusiastic nod, the blonde had agreed.

Football chants: These are an integral part of the game, adding passion, energy, and a sense of camaraderie to the stadium atmosphere. These chants are often sung by supporters to show their allegiance to their team, mock their rivals, or simply to create an electric atmosphere during matches.

The stadium buzzed with excitement, the air thick with the scent of freshly cut grass, and the opening instrumental of what you’ve now come to recognise as ‘North London Forever’ echos from every corner. It was clear that this was more than just a football match—it was an event, a spectacle, a communal gathering of fans united by their love for the team.

As the players took to the field, you felt a surge of pride course through you. Your girlfriend was amongst those players on the field. Whilst you had watched a few of her matches on telly, nothing compares to the real thing. Those BBC high-definition cameras would never be able to accurately capture an atmosphere this loud and proud.

Once the whistle blew, the clock started, and the match finally began. You was quickly swept away by the flow of the action. Every pass, every tackle, every attempted shot at goal sent a thrill coursing through your veins. The tension mounted with each passing minute. Every near miss, every save by the United keeper sent your heart racing with a mixture of anxiety and exhilaration. Now and then you caught sight of Leah on the pitch. Even from your place in the stands, you can tell she exuded athleticism and determination. Her movements were precise and calculated as she anticipated the opponent's every move. There were moments where you had to tear your eyes away from your girlfriend, reminding yourself that you had to watch the player with the ball, and not just the defender that has quickly become such an important person to you. You both hadn’t said the three-words yet, but lately they were threatening to spill out.

Then, in a flash of brilliance, it happened.

A perfectly executed play, a thunderous strike done by Cloe Lacasse, and the ball found the back of Mary Earps’ net with a resounding thud. The stadium erupted in cheers and applause, as fans all around you embraced each other in wild celebration. You basked in the atmosphere, clapping and shouting when you spotted Leah gesturing for the crowd to get even louder. The rest of the match was practically an Arsenal fan’s dream, with the team scoring two more goals to extend their lead.

As the referee's whistle pierces the air, the feeling that courses through your veins is a potent blend of euphoria, relief, and sheer joy. There's an eruption of cheers from the stands, echoing the celebrations on the pitch. Fans jumping, hugging, and waving scarves or flags. More than anything, you couldn’t wait to find your girlfriend and congratulate her on the win.

Victory Lap: Players may do a lap around the pitch after a significant victory, with fans clapping and cheering them on in celebration. Sometimes, players might do a lap to show appreciation for the support of the fans, especially at the end of a season or during special events.

You couldn’t see from where you were standing, but Leah’s eyes were currently roaming the stands for you. She lagged behind the rest of the team, wanting to survey the crowds of fans that, unfortunately for her, weren’t dispersing fast enough. As much as Leah adored the fans, the big crowd of bodies, waving arms, and the poster signs were making it very hard for her to spot the one person she was looking for. Her mind was already itching to run to the changing room and call you.

“Looking for someone?” Leah nearly curses when she is thrown forward by the force of someone jumping onto her back. Luckily, she managed to find her balance before she can fall face-first in front of a stadium filled with fans. She doesn’t need to turn her head to see who it was when the distinct Australian accent and the voice pretty much gives it away. “Get off, Kyra”

“No! Want a lift” The Australian tightens her arms around Leah’s neck, and giggles when the blonde pinches her on the leg. “Who are you looking for? Your missus?”

“Yes. She wouldn’t let me sit her in the friends and family section” Leah straightens up when the brunette finally jumps off her back. Her eyes trail back to the crowd, still scanning the bodies for you.

“Who wouldn’t?” Lotte slows down to let the two girls catch up with her. Leah groans when a heavy arm gets thrown over her shoulders. She certainly doesn’t need another teammate sticking her nose in her business. “Y/N?”

“Yeah.” Leah mutters. “Bloody stubborn woman she is”

The blonde recalls how much you insisted that you want to use your own bought ticket, profusely refusing her offer of a free seat. A small part of Leah loved that you had went out of your way to buy your own ticket. She remembers how you argued that by buying a ticket, you would be directly contributing to selling out the stadium. However, that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t have preferred you sitting in the section where she knows exactly where you were. It would’ve been easy for her to sneak glances at your direction throughout the match.

The mere memory of how adorably stubborn you were brought a smile to her face.

“Wipe that cheesy grin off your face, man” Lotte playfully nudges the blonde away with a push and laughs even harder when her fellow defender doesn’t even bother to deny it. “Do you know which section she’s at?”

“…No. Forgot to ask” Leah mumbles, trying to avoid her teammate’s look of disbelief. She’s been so focus on training for this match, wanting to put on a good performance because she knew you would be watching. Outside of training, the blonde spent the last couple of days rewatching footage of their past matches against Manchester United so she can study where she can improve on the pitch. She had completely forgotten to ask you where you would be sitting.

“How the fuck are ya s'posed to find her then?” Leah didn’t even realise the young Australian was still eavesdropping in on the conversation.

But before Leah could get to her, Lotte already has Kyra under her arm and in a headlock. “How ‘bout you watch your mouth, kid"

The defender turns away from them with a shake of her head and a small smile on her face. Her eyes continue to scan to crowd as she waves back at fans, still hoping to find a glimpse of you somewhere amongst them. She wasn’t exactly sure why she so desperately needed to see you when you both planned to meet at her place later on anyway.

Maybe a small part of her just wanted to see you surrounded by a sea of red and white, at her home stadium, with her own eyes.

As they were nearing the end of the lap around the pitch, Leah could see that some of her teammates had dispersed and were making their way towards the barriers where a crowd of fans were waiting. Whilst majority of the fans seated in the upper tiers of the stadium had already left, there were a few still loitering around, dancing to the music still blasting from the speakers.

If it were any other day, Leah would’ve gladly stayed around to spend some time with the fans. However today, all she wanted to do was find you. As much as she wanted to celebrate their win with the fans, she wanted to celebrate with you more.

After not spotting you anywhere, the blonde had become anxious. What if the crowd was too rowdy or too loud for you, what if the match was too boring, what if you realised that dating a professional football was too much? All these questions were racing in the blonde’s mind.

This was your first time stepping into her world, and she was going to make sure that it wouldn’t be the last.

Leah tapped Kim on the back and quickly informed her that she’ll be heading to the changing room. When the Arsenal captain quirked an eyebrow at this sudden and unsual revelation, knowing that the defender was usually one to stay behind and sign for fans, all she got was a quietly mumbled “gonna go look for my girl”

And before Kim could even reply, the blonde was already sprinting down the tunnel.

——————————————

All this time you were still at your seat, and had seen the entire thing play out. Your eyes hadn’t left your girlfriend the entire time the team did a lap around the pitch. You tried to stand on your tiptoes and wave your hand a few times just as they passed your section, but you were pretty hard to spot amongst a crowd. Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you smile at the text message from your girlfriend.

Hey, baby. Call me.

You turn to leave your row, excusing yourself as you side-step past the few people still waiting around. As you climb the stairs towards the exit, you press your phone to your ear and wait for your girlfriend to pick up. Not a moment too soon, you hear a familiar voice.

“Hiya”

“Hey, sweet. Good game–“

“Baby, the signal is shit–“

You frown and hurry your steps with your phone still pressed to your ear. You head straight towards the doors leading to the outside of the stadium, thanking the stewards on your way out.

“Can you hear me now?”

“Yeah. That’s better” You hear her breathing heavily through the phone. You could picture her pacing around, wherever she is, one hand either rubbing the back of her neck or brushing back her hair.

“Where are you?”

“Where are you?” You both say at the same time, smiling when you hear the blonde chucking on the other end. Part of you wonders if you are reaching the stage in a relationship where you begin to mirror or adapt your partner’s actions and behaviour.

The next words out of her mouth completely still you. In a softer tone, almost whispered, Leah asks “Where are you, baby? I was looking for you but I couldn’t find you…” The contrast between the confident defender you just saw out on the pitch and the palpable vulnerability that the woman on the other end of the phone was showing you was striking. You loved that you got to see this side of her.

“I was in my seat, Leah. Where I said I’d be” You teased, hearing her huff on the other end. You could bet £50 she was rolling her eyes at you.

Around you there was still a lingering sense of excitement. Chatter and laughter stalled in the air around you, and from the distance you could faintly hear a chant being sung. You would love to revel in the post-match atmosphere, but you wanted to be with your girlfriend more.

And as if she could read your mind, you hear her voice through the phone again “Tell me where you are and I can send a steward to you”

So you glance around at your surroundings and relay them to Leah. You note the massive poster of Arsenal Legends behind you and the small stall with the sign “Programmes” on the banner across from where you stood. Your girlfriend tells you to wait for the steward to come get you before she hangs up, but not before she mutters a quick “See you soon, baby”

Football programmes: programmes are printed publications that are sold at football matches and often available for purchase ahead of the match. They provide fans with a variety of information related to the match and the teams involved.

While you wait, you head towards the stall selling match day programmes. You had forgotten to buy one earlier, far too excited to head inside the stadium and find your seat. You smile and thank the steward who hands you one, and your smile only grows bigger when you see who is featured on the front cover– Leah. You place the programme in your bag, mentally reminding yourself to tease her about getting her to sign it.

It turns out you didn’t have to wait too long at all because soon enough you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn around, fully expecting to greet a steward, but you end up staring right into the prettiest shade of blue eyes.

“Found ya”

Familiar eyes that you know to belong to only one person– your girlfriend.

“Leah–“ You start but before you could say anything more, your girlfriend has a palm over your mouth, leaning close to shush you, and forcing you to walk backwards until you hit the wall behind you.

“Shush, baby. I’m being discreet here” With her hand still over your mouth Leah turns her head left and right, probably trying to see if anyone else got a glimpse of her. She resembled a meerkat just then. In the meantime, you take the opportunity to take her appearance in.

She wasn’t Leah Williamson, the Arsenal defender, that you had just watched command the pitch. Right now she was just Leah. Gone was the red and white kit, and in it’s place is a matching Nike black tracksuit with the hoodie pulled over her head and her favourite pair of white trainers.

When your girlfriend turns her attention back to you, she uncovers her palm from your mouth and flashes you a grin. Her hair was slightly wet and her cheeks were rosey meaning she probably took a quick post-match shower and then came straight to find you.

“Discreet, huh?” You tug at her black hoodie– the only thing disguising her. “This isn’t very discreet, sweet”

Leah chuckles, hugging you by the waist “Yeah well I somehow made it ‘round the stadium without being recognised, so I would say my disguise worked very very well, baby”

You indulge in the feeling of being in her arms again. You hadn’t seen each other for a few days, with the blonde busy with training and you with your studies. You both texted each other frequently and FaceTimed when you could, but nothing could compare to being with her in person.

All of a sudden you gasp loudly, exaggeratedly, and grab Leah by the arms before she could turn around to see what shocked you.

“What? Baby, what’s wrong?”

You cup your girlfriend’s face in your hands– rosy cheeks, messy hair and all. Her blues eyes wide and concerned.

“I think someone saw you. Quick. Kiss me”

Without waiting for her to reply, you crash your lips into hers. Your soft lips meet her parted ones with the hunger of a starved woman. Tingles wash down your back as she meets your tempo without skipping a beat– impulsively, maybe even instinctually. Her hands glide upwards from their hold on your waist, warm hands curling you further into her, until they’ve climbed up to rest on your back briefly. Her hands then move to cup the back of your neck, tilting your head slightly so she can kiss you deeper. Her tongue brushes against your bottom lip before you feel a sharp bite, making you gasp and groan against her lips. She is quick to sooth the sting away with a soft suck.

For someone so scared of being recognised by the few fans still loitering around the stadium, she seemed far too focused on kissing you to care. To outsiders, you probably looked like any other couple. Imagine their shock if they knew one of those strangers was Leah Williamson– a footballer constantly put under the spotlight but has remained so tight-lipped about her private life and you– the girl she was been starting her mornings with and ending her nights beside. The world would have a lot to say.

But for now, under the safety of Leah’s black hoodie and the lingering golden hour sunset, you and her were just two people in love.

When you both pull away your chests are heaving, breathless from the kiss just shared and the emotions that have been pilling up over the last couple of months. You up look at your girlfriend, who wasn’t quite as breathless as you thanks to her athletic stamina, but her cheeks were flushed and her lips were swollen and red.

Her gaze darkens, pupils dilated, the corners of her lips turn upwards at the sight of your slightly dazed expression. “Nobody was there, innit? You were just having a laugh”

You laugh at that. Loud and carefree. Head thrown back and full body giggles. Your girlfriend knew you too bloody well. “Got ya!”

“You know if you wanted to kiss me you could’ve just said so, baby”

She tugs you closer for one more wet kiss to your lips and you gladly accept it, smiling against her soft lips and winding your arms around her.

“But we should go before someone actually spots me” With that, the blonde tugs the drawstrings of her hoodie, tightening it so it covers most of her face. From the pocket of her joggers, she pulls out a pair of black sunglasses and places them over her eyes.

“Oh so that’s how you actually disguised yourself” You gasp mockingly, poking Leah in the waist and laughing when she playfully shoves you away from her. Not a moment later, she grabs your hand and intertwines her fingers with hers as you fall into step beside her. She leads you down a set of stairs, and stops by a glass door. She flashes a badge attached to a lanyard to the guard by the door, and he nods to let you both through.

She leads you up the escalator, your hand still snug in hers, and smiles at everyone that walks by. You are led down a long hallway, Arsenal photographs and memorabilia decorate the walls, and eventually stop by the entrance of a large conference room of sorts. You can see round tables scattered with plates and cutlery, a buffet table that spans the room, and a few recognisable faces. You spot some of Leah’s teammates, and wave a hand at them as they greet you. However, Leah doesn’t stop for anyone. Even when Beth practically races over to greet you with a hug, your girlfriend tugs on your arm essentially forcing you to keep walking along. You smile apologetically at the freckled-face Arsenal forward but she just waves you off with a grin, mouthing ‘talk later’

Eventually, you see exactly which table Leah is leading you towards. Nestled in the corner of the room, there is a table with only a few people sitting around it. Her family and closest friends. You hadn’t met Leah’s family yet. She had invited you to dinner at her mum’s house before but you were swamped with university work at the time. You knew that she had been wanting to try again, take you to her mum’s, and officially introduce you as her partner, and there was a small part of you that was waiting for that invitation. However, you didn’t feel exactly ready right now.

You hastily pull your hand out of Leah’s, forcing her to stop in her tracks. “You’re not introducing me to your family right now, are you?”

The blonde turns to you and notes the slight look of panic on your face. She takes a step back so she’s right beside you again and intertwines her fingers with yours.

“Didn’t realise we were already in that stage of our relationship, y/l/n” Leah jokes, using her thumb to sooth the small wrinkles that has appeared on your forehead. Admittedly, she was planning to introduce you to her family right then but she also knew how much you hate feeling unprepared. Leah knows that you probably wanted to dress up a little instead of the casual attire that you are currently wearing. She knows that you would’ve wanted to gift them something like a bouquet of flowers or a nice bottle of wine because you always tell her that ‘it’s necessary to bring a gift when you are visiting someone else’s home’.

“Soon though, yeah?” She squeezes your hand, and gives you a peck on the cheek when you nod in agreement.

So instead of stopping where her family is gathered, Leah expertly weaves through the chairs and only stops to briefly wave and coo at her cousin’s baby. You sneak a peek at the faces of her family members, and they’re all smiling at you. Suddenly, you didn’t feel as nervous to meet them when the time came.

There is one person who seems particularly interested in you though. Leah’s mum.

“Keep ya nose out of it, mum.” The Arsenal defender sassed when she catches her mum’s gaze. With the way her daughter is gripping your hand and resting the other on your lower back to guide you, she could probably guess what kind of relationship you have with her daughter. She probably also witnessed the kiss earlier. The thought makes your cheeks flush red. You give her a smile in passing, and she gladly returns one with a quick wave of her fingers.

“She is coming to dinner soon so prepare an extra plate, mum!” The blonde shouts as you both walk away from their table.

Your girlfriend ignores the wide-eyed look you are sending her, and continues to drag you by the hand towards the doors lead you to the outside of the private box. Outside, you are treated to a few rows of plush red leather seats and a panoramic view of the entire stadium and the pitch. It is now eerily different from the atmosphere a few hours ago.

Gone are the boisterous chants and the full-house stadium of fans, but remnants of the day’s activities still remain here. You see it in the Arsenal scarf that an unfortunate fan must have unknowingly left behind on the barrier, the rolled up flags which proudly display the club’s badge on the floor, and the goalpost still left on the pitch but now unassembled.

You also see it in the woman sitting beside you. In her messy hair, her tired eyes, and her genuine smile. You knew that she must be tired– having played the entire ninety plus minutes that the match went on for– but she was still here spending time with you and entertaining your little quips at her. She could’ve texted you to let you know that she’ll be meeting you tomorrow so she can rest and recover, or celebrate the big win with her teammates but instead she’s right here with you. She seems full set on integrating you into the football part of her life.

“Hey…” You turn to her and squeeze the hand that is still holding yours. You feel your heart still when those pretty blues meet yours. “Have I told you how well you played earlier?” At your words your girlfriend smiles, but it’s different from her usual smile. This one is sheepish– like she’s suddenly gone shy.

“You played really well today, Leah. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you”

Leah runs a hand down her face, like she’s trying to hide the blush that she can already feel coating her cheeks. She presses her lips together to smother the smile forming at your compliment, but her lips are already turned upwards at the corners. It was her first time playing in front of you as her girlfriend, and she wanted to make you proud. Hearing you compliment her and seeing how happy you are right now felt like a massive weight off her shoulders.

All of a sudden the blonde feels a rise of emotion clogging her throat, as if she wants to blurt something out. Hearing someone that she has started to care so deeply about enjoy this side of her– and to add to that a massive win for the team after a series of shortcomings– it was all starting to feel overwhelming for her.

She needed something to anchor her back down.

The Arsenal defender stands from her seat and pulls you up to do the same. She tugs you close and wraps both of her arms around your waist. Tucking her face into your neck, her heavy puffs of breath warm against the skin where your shoulder meets your neck. “Thank you, baby. That really means a lot”

Leah places a kiss on your neck and practically curls into you. You feel her take a deep shuddering breath, and her body slackens against yours, as if it is in your embrace that she can finally relax. You pull her tighter against you, wanting to envelope her in warmth and provide her solace. Hoping that your actions and your unspoken words are enough for now.

Football Kits: fans wearing football shirts with players’ names on their backs is a popular practice in the sport. It is common to walk around the stadium during match day and see people proudly showing off the last name of their favourite player on their backs. Wearing a shirt with a player's name is a way for fans to demonstrate their admiration and loyalty to their favourite player.

It seemed like it was only then that the Arsenal defender had noticed that you were wearing their home kit. You had slightly unzipped your puffer jacket, feeling a lot warmer now. The bright red kit you were sporting underneath was unmistakable. The smile that was already plastered on Leah’s face grew even wider, and there was almost a twinkle in her eyes as she took a moment to admire you being clad in the familiar red and white.

“Whose name have you got on your back?” Leah wouldn’t admit it right now, but she was hoping it was hers.

“No ones.” You reply curtly. You had thought about it, and considered it for a moment. You remember sitting on your bed a few nights ago, the Arsenal online shop pulled up on your laptop browser, and your cursor hovering over the ‘Williamson 6’ option.

Maybe if you had been braver you would’ve personalised your kit with her name, added it to your cart, and bought it. However you didn’t know how she would feel about that. Besides, you figured you could always ask to borrow one of hers in the near future

and it would be £126 cheaper

The blonde raises an eyebrow at your answer and glances down at your shirt once more. The plain red and white kit mocking her.

“You fancy having mine?”

“You proposing already, darling?”

“No, ya big goof” Leah lightly knocks on your forehead with her knuckles before she pulls you close by the waist and kisses the same spot. “I meant you can borrow one of my old match day shirts”

You look up at her. You weren’t that much shorter than the blonde, but those few inches difference in height still meant you had to tilt your head up sometimes, especially when she was standing so close. With her arms wrapped around your waist and yours around her neck, you were both practically intertwined.

Your eyes meet those pretty pretty blues.

“Didn’t realise we were already at that stage of our relationship, Williamson” You throw her own words earlier back at her with a cheeky grin.

You feel her tighten her arms around you before she leans down to your ear, a little secret only meant for the two of you, and murmurs

“We can be, my girl.”

This was a longgggg one so if you stuck through it till the end, you deserve a kiss!

It's been raining a lot these past few days here. Spare some sunshine from your side of the world?

– kisses, butter

#woso #woso fanfics #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso blurbs #woso community #leah williamson imagine #a favourite of mine #my fic #wlw

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rileyslibrary · 2 years

Text

Where’s my pen, Lt.?

Summary: You’re PMSing, and Ghost comes to the rescue.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,110

Notes:

Angst and fluff

Dedicated to my ✨ anon

Want more?

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How can you be angry, sad, and tired all at the same time? It’s a never-ending cycle. Every month right before your period, you feel like shit. What did your species do to deserve such a cruel and recurring punishment? What a selfish b*tch that Eve was. So much for taking one for the team.

You’re standing in front of a table with a shattered drone resting on its mahogany top. Fortunately, with the right tools, carbon fibre is easy to repair. Unfortunately, this army base doesn’t have the necessary equipment and personnel for the job. It can be a complex task if you don’t have the resources, especially if you lack the energy and strength to do it just by yourself.

Ghost is sitting in the corner of the room, cleaning his handgun. He looks calm—sirene—as if he didn’t just stare death straight in the eyes a few hours ago. How does he do that?

On the contrary, your movements are sluggish, you have terrible back pain, and you lack the motivation to complete even the most basic tasks. But you have to fix that drone for its next mission.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in one of the drone’s camera lenses. You’re unrecognisable. Your hair is acting up again, with unruly strands forming a halo at the crown of your head. Not only that, but your reflection reveals another issue. You take a closer look at your face. Fuck; another pimple. It decided to settle on your chin this time. Great—just great.

“Everything alright?” He asks, interrupting your thoughts.

“Y-yes, ready to start the process.” You answer with false confidence. Can he tell you’re faking it? Probably.

He says nothing but keeps staring at you with an unreadable expression, his silence giving an answer in itself. After what seemed like an eternity, he stands up and walks towards the door, exiting the room and leaving you alone.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, exhaling in relief. Come on, get a hold of yourself. Focus.

You gather your hair up and fix it with whatever you have available in front of you. Now is not the time to be making stylistic decisions. You’re not here to compete in a pageant, anyway. What you need to do is fix that damn thing and fast.

You roll up your sleeves, grab your notepad, and open it on a new page. You pick up your p-

Where’s your pen?

You begin searching the table for your missing item, picking up drone components and putting them back in an unruly manner.

Maybe it rolled off the table!

You kneel on the floor, furiously searching for your pen as if you’d lost your most treasured asset. Where did it go? It can’t just grow legs and walk away! It must be here, somewhere.

You stumble as you rise to your feet, bumping your head on the table’s corner. Dizzy and frustrated, you stay on all fours, attempting to calm yourself with every ounce of dignity you have left.

Until you ultimately give up. So much for the confidence boost you tried to give yourself a few moments ago. You roll around and sit on the floor, drawing your knees close to your chest and burying your face in them as you let out a long, deep sigh.

“Is that part of the repair process, soldier?” Ghost asks as he re-enters the room, “do you grieve the drone first before you glue it back together?”

Today, of all days, he decided to act like an asshole.

“I misplaced my pen, Lieutenant,” you reply, still seated on the floor.

“You’re crying because you misplaced your pen.” He repeats in a deep, monotonous voice.

“I’m not cr- forget it.” You sigh defeated.

You can’t tell him what’s going on inside you. He’ll never understand. Ghost could take a bullet to the shoulder and still manage to climb a mountain while you’re whining about a minor inconvenience.

“Get up.” He commands, and you follow his orders. You pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and attempt to stand as straight as possible.

He stares at you with those interrogative eyes of his and slides something from across the table. You look down at the purple-wrapped rectangle in front of you.

A chocolate bar.

“I know what’s up,” he says, shrugging as he looks at the chocolate, “you tend to be like that a few days before.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “How do you know?”

“I keep a log,” he explains. “I might be confident enough setting up an ambush in the middle of the desert, but I don’t push my luck with you.”

You crack a smile and accept the chocolate. “Thank you, Ghost,” you mutter, eyeing the piece of candy. He keeps a log, huh? What a guy.

“About that pen you were looking for,” he continues, “it’s in that patty of yours,” he explains and points at you.

In the what of yours??? You stand perplexed by his last statement until he gestures toward the back of his head. You mimic his actions and chuckle in embarrassment as you realise what he’s referring to. But of course! You used the pen to secure your hair. You exhale in relief and pick the pen off to set it on the notepad.

“You’re a lifesaver, Simon.” You reply.

“Keep your gratitude for the battlefield, soldier,” he adds dismissively. He’s obviously flattered, but he’ll never confess it. “Now tell me, how’s your back doing?” He asks, “still in pain?”

You nod. “Hurts like a motherfucker, sir.”

“Let me see,” he says, and you lift your hair up to expose the back of your neck. He moves in closer to get a better look, and you can feel the heat of his breath against your skin. His fingers are gentle as he works his way down your neck, kneading the soreness and pain away with skill. You wince as you feel his touch, but the pain is nothing compared to what it was before he began to work his magic.

“Oh, and, uh, Lieutenant?” You whisper softly, almost inaudibly, as you feel the tension leaving your body.

“Hm?” He murmurs, his strong hands now carefully massaging your shoulders.

“It’s called a bun,” you say with a smirk, “not a patty.”

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#simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #✨ anon #Simon riley #cod ghost #cod mw2

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vampyrial · 10 months

Text

Sugar

summary: cooking for someone is the sweetest expression of love.

pairing: mark grayson x gn!reader

content warnings: soft yan!reader, poisoning, gaslighting, caretaking, fluffy if you ignore that reader is a lil crazy

author’s note: I never posted this here but in honor of s2 of invincible, here’s this fic I wrote after s1 😵‍💫 my first mark fic

Mark remembered his mom making pancakes on the weekends. It was his favorite breakfast when he was a kid. There was less time for sit down breakfasts as he grew older and spent more time outside the house working, going to school or hanging out with William, it remained a nostalgic thing for him. The smell of butter, the sizzle of the batter hitting the hot pan, he hadn’t realized he missed it.

Not until he woke up to the clattering of pans downstairs. Debbie was out for the day already, busying herself with work. As of late, the house had become stifling and she felt ill at ease. Mark was mostly left to his own devices for food and Mark being Mark, mostly subsisted on take out.

You had slept over (in the guest room, per Debbie’s request) and woken up early to make breakfast. Into the dry ingredients, you added a vial of powder as white as flour. You sprinkled it all in, hand inside the bowl, careful not to let it spill anywhere. You mixed carefully. With a focus as complete as ever, batter dropped onto the pan, sizzling.

“Making breakfast?” His voice almost made you jump. You thought you were used to him sneaking up on you.

“Good morning to you too, Mark” You smiled to yourself, not looking up at him. “And yes, I’m making you pancakes.”

You didn’t look up but you could tell he was surprised by the pause and the awkward shift of his silhouette.

“I didn't…I know I only eat out these days but I don’t need you to cook for me, I feel kind of like an asshole watching you cook for me in my own house” He mumbled, looking away.

“I know I don’t need to, I want to. I’d feel better if you didn’t eat pizza everyday for breakfast.”

“It’s not everyday, just…most of the time” He was embarrassed you’d noticed. “Are you not gonna have some?” He changed the topic.

“I had four bowls of captain crunch at 5am, I’m not exactly sure more sugar is a good idea for me right now.”

You flipped the pancakes onto a plate, sliced a pat of butter onto the top and poured the syrup. Mark, even in his quest to be somewhat gentlemanly, could not resist. The first bite of the buttery pancakes drenched in the syrup evoked strong feelings. Longing, gratitude and love. The yearning for an innocence abandoned and the feeling of being loved was so strong he could cry.

Mark, like most teenage boys, could eat. You silently kept cooking pancakes and he kept eating them. It was a lovely morning, the air was sweet and the sky was a vibrant blue. You spent the day in Mark’s room, in pajamas, tracing shapes over his skin with your fingertips as you watched a marathon of movies he liked. He eagerly explained every gag and bit of trivia. But as the sky began to darken with the day’s end, Mark’s energy declined.

He was sluggish and he felt a bit warm. When he insisted he was alright, you still stayed by his side. A comfort he was secretly grateful for. Even when Debbie came home, fatigued, you kindly asserted that you would stay up with Mark and watch over him. It was only right, Debbie already had enough to deal with and she fussed over Mark until the early hours. If there was anyone she could trust Mark to, it would be you, just while she got some sleep at least.

You wiped the sweat from Mark’s brow with a gentle hand. You brought him water and aspirin, you rubbed his tender muscles, you changed his sheets soaked by sweat. Mark felt like shit but knowing you were there, unperturbed by his frequent vomiting, was a comfort beyond words. You even slept in the same bed as him now, holding his hand, rubbing over it with your fingers. He felt like a kid again, cared for and safe.

Even though after more than a week, Debbie wanted to bring him to the hospital, you waved away her concerns. “Part of this might be coming from Mark’s emotional state after what happened, maybe we have grief to blame for this, in part. Mark doesn’t need a hospital, his symptoms aren’t worse than the stomach flu, he just needs to be cared for” you had said, so convincingly, so knowingly, that it made her hesitate. You only had his best interests at heart. Mark even spoke up and said he didn’t need to go to the hospital. He had been in the hospital so often, he was sick of it. Even the memory of the strong antiseptic smell brought a sense of dread. He would rather be with you, at home being touched by your familiar, healing, hands.

He loved you so much, and told you as much very often. When you were showering with him, washing him because he was too winded; your wet, warm skin carefully cleaning his, he murmured ‘I love you.’ He was vulnerable, tender, worn and tired but he was certain of one thing. He couldn’t live without your warmth. Everyone else counted on him, they needed something from him and if he failed to deliver he’d be letting them down. It’d be another fuck up to add to the roster and yet another time someone he loved would look at him like a loser. But with you, he felt the closest thing to unconditional love he had ever experienced from anyone besides his mom. You didn’t care who he decided to help or what he messed up, you would always accept him. Even if you weren’t always pleased with what he did, you never judged him harshly for his mistakes. For his wins or his fails, you loved him. Mark thought it was way more than he deserved and part of him really did regret his actions more in the face of your forgiveness. He did feel like such an asshole when he found comfort in your acceptance, when you consoled him as if he really deserved it. But fuck if he didn’t need it.

He obviously couldn’t rush off saving people like he had, so he stayed safely inside. His world was small and manageable. His body was whole, if aching and feverish. That was what you intended. For Mark to be safe. He was always putting himself in danger like it didn’t matter, running off to save the world like no one else. Sometimes he would come back intact and sometimes he wouldn’t. Sometimes he was a hair’s breadth away from death. But Mark didn’t want to stay put, you weren’t strong enough to protect him directly and you couldn’t order him to. What were you to do?

A bit of poison wouldn’t do him in, in fact, you were certain it wouldn’t even keep him down very long. But buying even this amount of time was a blessing. You wanted to keep him safe, keep him inside forever if that’s what it took but that wouldn’t work. For now, you were just buying a little time and some peace of mind. You tell yourself you were driven to this.

A few days later, Mark’s strength had recovered somewhat. You fed him soup and he kept all of it down. He was relieved to be recovering even though he would miss being babied by you and Debbie’s worries eased meaning you were safe from her suspicion. He went back to school, back to saving the world eventually. You waited until enough time passed. Until you could return things to how they should be.

The moment came six months later, the previous night you two had been out with William and Eve. He’d rushed off to the city with Eve while you were in the middle of eating at some greasy pizza joint. Your heart fluttered as you gazed at the empty space next to you in the booth. At least Eve was with him, though it was a poor consolation. They were fighting the same aliens they were overwhelmed by a few weeks ago. He came home in one piece, thankfully, but he had been fighting so much lately. Cecil asked so much of him, he’d been flying off to this and that attack. He was bound to be hurt again soon, even just that month there had been threats he’d barely escaped from. It was your misfortune to fall in love with a hero, it meant that he would never really be safe and neither would you.

You called Mark to sleep over at yours when he came back that night. Your mother worked late or sometimes, simply didn’t want to come home so the house was yours. The two of you watched mafia movies, argued about whether the godfather was overrated or not and ate an ungodly amount of popcorn. The following morning, you cooked a big breakfast, muffins, bacon, omelets. Pancakes.

He ate so hungrily it hurt your heart. He truly did love your cooking. Even though Debbie had gradually started making dinner for him again months ago, he had really missed your cooking. It wasn’t that her’s wasn't delicious, it was just…there was something that made him warm inside about the idea that you should make something for him. That you thought about him, cared about him enough. That much effort wasn’t necessarily a given in a high school relationship. It was new and nice to be with someone who showed their love for him so frankly.

You watched him eat with such a sweet look on your face. You ate with him, an omelette and bacon, for the sake of appearance. Planned out in anticipation of Mark’s tastes and in the interest of keeping suspicion to a minimum, you added your remedy to both the muffins and the pancakes. The muffins had less of it, as you knew Mark would be likely to eat more pancakes than muffins but if he chose to forgo that for the opposite, he would still be made ill. You even had plans for the unlikely event that he chose to eat neither. But Mark wasn’t rude enough to pass up food made for him by someone he loves.

Shortly after breakfast, Mark was in the bathroom vomiting. It seemed far more likely that the pizza joint with the sticky seats and chain smoking cooks gave him food poisoning than anything having been wrong with your food. In his head, it didn’t even occur to him. When you helped him into bed, he felt grateful that he was with you. It was such a relief not to say that he was fine, not to have to be brave. Nobody cared for him as gently as you did.

Your sheets and your pillows smelled like you. Mark felt weird smelling your things but it was nice to be surrounded by comfort. You washed him in your soap so he smelled like you too. He couldn’t have wanted you more in that moment, he wanted your skin against yours. He wanted your voice, the brush of your fingertips against his. When he was well, he wanted to be someone you would be proud to be with. To be that hero you deserve. When he was this sick, he still had that desire lingering somewhere in the background but he melted down into the barest of wants. And what remained was a need for you, an uncomplicated desire. He felt as if he’d dissolve into your mattress if he couldn’t feel you.

“I’m right here, Mark” You murmured, cleaning the sweat from his chest with a cloth. You have such gentle hands, your eyes stay on his to make sure you’re not hurting him. Under your loving attention, a few tears roll down Mark’s cheek. He can’t help it, you’re always there for him. Without you, who does he have to lean on like this? His mom was already a wreck, Eve had her own problems, William had no idea how to deal with something as big as what he went through — he doesn’t even know how to deal with it. He cannot live without you, who doesn’t understand what he went through but understands what he needs better than anyone.

“What’s the matter? Does something hurt?” You asked, panicked at his tears. Mark didn’t cry easily, you hadn’t meant to put him in so much pain he’d cry. You had added just enough, you always operated on that balance. Just enough pain, just enough sickness, just enough time.

“No, it’s just-” Mark’s voice was raw. “I’m glad I’m with you, that’s all.”

You softened. Hearing him say that made you melt into a puddle of sticky sweet syrup. It only strengthened your resolve and you were overcome with the need to keep him safe. And with the knowledge that if something happened to him, you would die. When the savage, gruesome fight happened, your stomach was in knots for days while you heard no news. Your heart squeezed painfully as if you were going to have a heart attack and it went on for days. When you slept to escape the constant anxiety, you had nightmares. You didn’t even go to school, you couldn’t get out of bed for anything other than checking whether or not he’d come home. For weeks you lived in hell, thinking you would lose him. And although he was alright that time, a piece of that moment lived in you every time he flew off toward danger.

“I love you so much, Mark” You bowed your head and rested it against his chest, hearing his strong heart beating. You pressed a kiss there, along the contours of his chest, right over his heart.

“I love you too” He mumbled weakly. There couldn’t be anything sweeter than you.

Your love was falling over him like powdered sugar. These moments, without knowing it, he had come to need them. Being sick was the only time he was allowed to fully be human. No one needed or expected anything of him. Under your care, he could be briefly vulnerable.

That was all you needed to ease that inkling of guilt that rose in the back of your mind. Who was protecting him like he protected everyone else? No one but you. It was why you had to resort to using underhanded methods, if everyone was trying to protect him, if they only cared — you wouldn’t need to. That was what you reasoned, anyway.

Mark needed you, anyone with eyes could see that. And you had no intention of abandoning him. Whatever you had to do, in your eyes it was all the desperation of a powerless human trying to save the man they love. It was romantic, even. You anticipated the moment where Mark might put two and two together. It made you anxious and you had practiced the speech you’d give him a thousand times. “I love you and I’m scared. I’m so scared for you. I always am." But you soothed yourself with the knowledge that Mark would understand, above anyone else, you’d earned the benefit of the doubt.

Because Mark knew what he needed, even if it was something he couldn’t have expressed on his own. Even if it was something that he shouldn’t. He was only human — even if he was half viltrumite — could he really deny your feelings and his own? No. Not when you were his saving grace. How could he not understand what you were trying to do when his sentiments were nearly the same?

You were watching Mark sleep, laying next to him, his arm around you. His skin was warm and his breaths were labored. You reassured yourself as you pulled the blanket up to his chest. You would take good care of him, he knew that. He had to, he had to know. He just had to.

#x reader #mark grayson x reader #invincible x reader #yandere reader

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