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capslocked · 6 months

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KINKVEMBER DAY: 2

[prompt: mutual masturbation] male reader x jang wonyoung 4k words

If nothing else, Jang Wonyoung is a creature of habit.

Always orders her americano cold. Brown sugar and cinnamon cream cheese on her bagel. Walks three and a half steps behind her manager whenever they make their rounds: hair salon, corner pharmacy, the office, local record store. And for as long as she's been sharing your bed, she's insisted on that horrendous alarm clock from the late 90s that chirps the early-morning wakeup like a dying robot-parakeet.

All of it has worked for her so far, she’ll tell you. Which you find hard to argue with.

So - when she arrives home later than usual on an ordinary Thursday, she doubles down on routine. Where there's comfort in predictability. Coat on the third hook, boots below, fingers in her hair twisting to undo a messy bun, and a soft, delicate, "It's me," once she steps over the threshold.

“Hey,” you say to her, tilting your head. "You look, bedraggled."

"Well," and Wonyoung brushes aside the handful of her damp hair not stuck to her neck. There are faint marks just at her temple, in a faded half-circle, not unlike what would happen if your pillow wasn't comfortable. Or, you know. Some boyfriend that she's not supposed to have getting a hand tangled into all that long hair and pulling tight, like she tells him not to do. "That's probably true."

"Is it raining?"

"It was earlier." She eyes the spoonful of yogurt you're about to lick off, leaning back against the counter and tapping at the ceramic bowl. Frowns. "Is that one of the last blueberry ones. I take those for my lunch."

"I can always get more."

"Uh-huh." She drops her phone, keys, and spare change from her pockets into the large wicker bowl that lives near the end of the hall, by the closet and coat hooks. She has a sort of despondent energy about her when she comes into the kitchen. Less a look, more of a stance. A rub at her shoulder, this back and forth in her neck like she's working out a kink.

And because she looks tired and her hair is damp and she isn't busy kissing you right away, that's when you reach out. Let a finger slide across her skin, under her collar, pull aside the cotton.

"I'm going to go take a shower."

"Mind if I join you? You could use a hand." You end up holding hers in your own for a moment. Just, looking. "If you want."

There's something unidentifiable in her stare. She might have gone on believing nothing was different if not for the length of that pause - you, and the warmth from your body and the warmth of your hands on her shoulders, sliding into her neck, then-

She rises up on her toes and presses a light, almost shy kiss into your chin. And, well, if she had the strength to reach anywhere more than that, she'd let her fingertips find and curl around the smooth curve of your ear and say, very softly - barely audible - "take your clothes off. I'm already soaking wet. If you don't help, I'll run out of hot water before the conditioner's worked its way through."

But it's not for tonight; she's tired, wants it simple, maybe. Maybe wants to leave it for a better day.

"I just want to get cleaned up. It's been a long day."

"Fine by me." You point your spoon at her. "That's what it's for."

“Such a fucking gentleman," she murmurs, patting a palm at the front of your chest.

You smile first, playful - just this side of annoying - the exact thing she's kicking herself months later for having fallen for. And with another spoonful of yogurt, "you know me."

In your defense, Wonyoung has always had the cutest reaction to it. The quirk that she tries to keep from forming in the corner of her mouth, small and contained, like if you asked her about her day, she'd play it off. Let a sentence out with no punctuation. Which she often does: she's been fine, and that's the full length of her response.

But later, when she climbs into bed - when her face is in your hands and her lips are brushing past your cheek - when her hair smells like peach shampoo, and your chin is tucked into the nape of her neck, just the beginning of all the ways you plan to spoil her, you have to tease. Always, "I thought we weren't fucking until tomorrow, or was that a lie?"

A little bit of distance to keep your mind on track, and not thinking about her spread out under you, wide-eyes, and saying: yes.

You’re propped up against the headboard. You were reading, or watching tv. It doesn’t matter which when Wonyoung straddles your legs and drags her hand up your chest. Up and under her nightgown, the silky, thin, light blue material, until she has the collar cupped in her fist and her knees straddling your thigh. "Am I not allowed to change my mind?"

"No. Not allowed." Your breath catches. Because she is gorgeous, especially like this: tired, and pretty, and sweet, and thinking, deeply and meticulously and with great consideration, of climbing into your lap and asking if you'd help. If she'd be distracting enough - if she had the words to entice you into staying very close, without actually promising anything, because this, what she's wearing, how it's so tight to her form and how it is easily torn or bunched aside when she reaches down with both hands and starts to fiddle with the fabric at her waist, near her navel - is all entirely purposeful.

Wonyoung raises her eyebrow in question - silently: an exception, maybe, for me?

The way you're talking her up with both hands at the very smallest dip between her ribs and the bones jutting out above her hips, thumbs rubbing into the sensitive places along her thighs - pressing, a steady rhythm.

"Do you want it bad, princess?"

"Stop." Wonyoung wrinkles her nose at that and glares. But she knows better than anyone else. She lives in that contradiction, visible as it plays across her face when her back arcs and arches. When her breathing does this slow and deep in and out and you've leaned in with just enough pressure to make it feel good, in your kiss, a soft tug, a bite. A slow laving tongue leaving lazy patterns across her skin.

"Just want to make sure," you insist. Then, the question is being murmured against her chest. Then it's being whispered into the crook of her neck - which earns the single most content of sounds:

"A little, yeah, you ass."

"My mouth? My fingers? Or are you looking for something more... involved?"

"Maybe I'm looking," she says, pulling a curtain of glossy black hair back over her ear, "for you to figure that out."

"Aren’t you coy." You grab at her hair again - the second time today, for the second-worst of reasons. To tilt her head and gaze up at her like you're willing to live in the space beneath her. "We'd start slow?" you ask, and with a press of your open mouth against her collarbone, she brings her arms around you.

"Very slowly," Wonyoung says. She has one hand curling through bedsheets to feel if you're anywhere near as hard as she is wet. Her touch is fleeting, barely a whisper. "We don't have to rush it. Maybe we could do that thing."

You laugh out loud, and the vibration of it alone, coursing through your chest, your waist, up between her legs, has Wonyoung wanting. "That could mean anything at this point."

Wonyoung just looks down at you, fingernails grazing over your stomach, your chest, as she peels your shirt up over your head and tosses it aside the bed. And then, the idea, "get your phone."

"Hm. I'm going to say something that might come off as a little... something, but I mean it in the most respectful way." It's not a far reach, to where yours is charging on the nightstand. You're tapping in the passcode to your lockscreen when you spell it out for the girl in your lap: "you're low-key kind of a freak."

Wonyoung closes her eyes. Smiles. Her hair is spilling over one shoulder, some strewn across her chest, where she cups the underside of her breasts and sits her elbows into your shoulders and wriggles her ass a little lower in your lap. Until the tips of her hair are brushing the space below her belly-button, teasing-soft at the warm, pliant flesh.

"Pot." She bites into her lip, just slightly. "Meet kettle."

It doesn't take long to find what she's looking for; twitter's full of it. A video of her that'd gone viral. Or not quite viral, but circulated - bounced from account to account, thousands and thousands of hits - the shot by shot of the choreo that sees her bending over at the waist, touching her fingertips to the hem of a plaid-checked skirt, with this perfect posture, straight up through the hips to arch the back and lift and turn her shoulders at the right angle, so there's no mistake she's looking straight at the camera.

“You look good here,” you remark, scrolling a little further. She's grown so used to it that she doesn't even look.

Instead, it's her fingers that do the talking: moving a little faster. Touching a little deeper and harder over the gray cloth of her underwear. She runs a circle over the spot that has her rubbing her hips forward, breath shaky, back in your ear. "I always look good, don't I?"

"Obviously."

Her jaw falls into the crook of your neck. There's no escaping it: this heat, and she sighs. Mumbled and warm. This is the worst thing, she mutters - like you can't feel how incredibly hard it's getting to see her touch herself and act all shy, so the words are half-concentrating on her own breath, the other half focused, hazy. In her face. In her chest.

So, again. Wonyoung swallows a sigh. Breathes and runs her touch along the edges. That spot and where the wet has started to soak through the fabric, her thighs rubbing and sliding and finding new pressure.

“Here’s a particularly nasty one," you tell her.

Wonyoung turns her mouth into your neck, lips leaving these kisses while she presses down her fingers and rides. Hard, heavy strokes where her hand moves quicker with a sharp huff to her inhale. You click open another thread - another snapshot of that tight little ass of hers, the smooth skin over the dip of her hips, and the long curve of her back-

"Read it."

And with the music all distorted and choppy through tinny phone speakers, you say: "some guy can't decide if he'd like to spank you or pull your hair."

"Uh-huh." You feel her chin dig in where it's placed itself, over the flat of your shoulder.

"Then there's an awful lot here about how much the commenter wants to rail you. They get pretty vulgar." You look up from the screen and raise an eyebrow, the words coming into place, "Wonyoung has grown up so well," and the next part is so easy, "this little cocktease has been begging me to drain my balls for her for too long. I have to fucking oblige."

"God." She slips a finger into her panties to rub at her pussy - you know because the contact is audible, wet - and she drags a palm up and down, pressing in hard. Her lips part over a shaky punched out breath - this hot, wet puff of air - when she drags her mouth over the smooth skin of your collarbone. Where she feels at liberty to bite a hickey into the taut line of your neck, and draw her mouth, open and hot, up into your jaw. "Cocktease, huh?"

"Always the impression you leave." And with one, long, indulgent swipe, and a pinch on the wet material that's plastered itself, sheer and transparent and a beautiful outline to your cock, you glance to see Wonyoung smiling. That one that's all cheekbones. All teeth. All sort of sly.

"Can you," and there's not even an attempt, not even a sliver of an ounce of thought toward trying to hide the ache in her voice.

(You're there before she has to ask.)

“The concept of ‘Baddie’ does suit her, I think,” you start to read, “no one would believe it, but Wonyoung is the perfect little slut. Grade A baddie. Capital 'b'. She keeps teasing us with that tight, toned body and her slutty expressions. Someone’s ruining her on the regular. Not a doubt in my mind. A piece of ass that fine doesn’t go a week without it.”

"I do like when they talk about you," Wonyoung purrs out, and her hand slips down your chest. A touch, always warm and heavy and searching and all your fault lands right at your waist. On the bone that juts out at her thumb and forefinger. Which is exactly where she'd start palming you over your underwear, but with something close and confident in her eye, this mischievous idea taking shape in her gaze. You can't deny it: she has something dangerous in store.

"About how they think I am."

And when you place your hand back at her hairline, trailing her neck, her shoulder, Wonyoung sighs. From the top of her chest.

"What else does it say?" She breathes out a desperate exhale. This low-slung sort of groan. She looks hungry, and so unafraid to be. Eyes all smoldering. Hips all wriggling. Pushing a rhythm with those desperate grinds over your leg. The mess, in the softest sense, of her mouth, panting against the smooth line of your jaw. And voice, hoarse, murmuring something about: "how are they planning to ruin me?"

"Princess, you-"

Wonyoung angles her hips just that inch. A moan, just at the barest amount of friction, barely a grind, her soaked pussy rubbing against the flesh of your upper thigh, that feels like an earthquake hitting your throat. That makes your eyes flutter closed for just one second and groan, your whole chest singing for her.

You swallow hard. "How can anyone go on calling this innocent-"

Wonyoung’s fingers slip past the elastic, your cock springing free against her thigh and bobbing gently. "Play along," she tells you, this hint of command, and maybe a tease - playful and familiar. "I don't want to be the only one ruining their underwear." She smiles like she has plans, and it's downright infuriating in the best way.

“In the song, she even calls herself a ‘pretty little risky baddie’ and means that whatever happens, happens. She’s announcing that she’s not on birth control and that she knows all she’s good for is getting fucked and used and bred like a toy.”

“And?” she asks, the fingers between her legs fluttering out tiny circles of respite - moving fast, faster -

It takes more than a couple seconds, because your breath halts in your throat the moment your fist finds the blood pulsing through your cock, joining her in slow, full-length, smooth motions, watching, always. Seeing her, all the way: with every slow and steady roll of her hips that moves her slick-covered-panties along your skin. The expression in the hooded eyes, this flash of her pink tongue and the way it curls over the seam of her plush-soft lip. That subtle shift in the arch of her back and the clenching muscle up her arm and leg-

Watching is where you find yourself at: all the way, everywhere. The tremble in the flex of her spine to the sound she makes from her throat at the same time. When Wonyoung moves closer. How you breathe, ragged, but eager. You're both all nerves, the damp heat building up the soft and quiet parts of the both of you and neither of you are bothered about the sweat sticking the shirt to her skin - this wet heat, a daze, a smell in the air that has Wonyoung rocking and rotating on your lap.

"I would start," you continue reading, paraphrasing slightly the unhinged words of someone typing one-handed, and your voice comes out odd, thick. "-start with my cock forced into that little throat, she'd look so perfect with her eyes watering while she gags on my cum, the filthy sounds she would be making. She'd beg for more like the slutty princess she is-"

Wonyoung shifts her weight, and lets out this moan.

"-I'm not convinced Wonyoung would even be satiated by being railed in her pretty little pussy until she's crying. Wouldn't be enough if she only choked on it while cum dripped down her chin, leaving those little dollops along the edges, slipping and glazing on her tongue. Probably wants the messiest, hottest load. No condom. Lying flat. Clenching. Could you imagine, bare? Wanting to be used for real, want us filling her so badly she'd barely even be able to move, or think, or process anything except how much of an overstimulated slut she would be: helpless. Soaking."

And you look at her as you stroke - the same tempo. Pre-cum leaking from the flushed head. Making a show of it. Watching her lips drop into something slack-jawed. This isn't even the filthiest thought she's ever heard - the roughest fantasy brought to life she's ever imagined - and yet.

"They go on for a long time about breeding you."

Wonyoung manages this incoherent half-word - a word of want, more of the kind of fucking she'd be receiving with her knees and palms to a mattress, her throat dry and face sticky with cum and tears and sweat. You know her body and what she likes, and this:

"-I would fuck her while she screams, her fingers tearing at the bedsheets and her vision so blurry and brain all fogged over, only able to respond in pained moans and deep-seated need-"

Her throat bobs.

You don't need to turn the phone over to find the end. Wonyoung lets it fall faceup onto the bedspread as she pulls your wrist toward the heat between her legs, all messy and slick. "Touch me," she's murmuring, guiding your hand lower until you have the thin strip of fabric tenting just off her lips and you press a digit inside, another - until Wonyoung clenches all around you - until she brings her wet fingers to your own ache, the hot length of your cock, pumping up and down, a stroke. Until she licks them, and places her forehead into the center of your collarbone, mumbling this broken, "Just... put-your-fucking-hands-" and her next breath, like a sharp and sudden wind.

When she’s this worked up, it doesn't take long: Wonyoung arches, slow and sinful, her shoulders curving down to present her chest, to make her small breasts and pert, hardened nipples visible even through the cotton of her shirt, her lips falling open - you slip two fingers to the base, then three. Plunging them in quick and ruthless, Wonyoung bucking into the heel of your hand, fucking her pussy on you so her thighs are slick, squelch after squelch-

“Fuck,” she whispers, this long note of exasperation, right into your cheek, and the intensity and urgency has her fucking her hips up to meet the thrust of your fingers, working her cunt like it's made for pleasure alone, and your cock-

The base of your throat burns. “Yeah,” you tell her, “just like that. Jerk that cock just like that, Wonyoung.”

Both of you are there, cumming into each other's hands, in the dimmed lights of your bedroom, heaving short, wet, sinful breaths into each other's mouths, because it's become one: her eyes and yours, blown wide. Her thighs shaking, your hips stuttering.

You roll and curl and spread your digits, holding Wonyoung's ass into her strokes. Tug the strap aside to hook a thumb in and press into her hot skin and warm muscle, driving further, deeper. Harder and firmer - pressing down, fast and vicious until she's making a series of sounds, whine-like and so soft.

"With me," she chokes out, swallowing down on the noise that falls out of her chest as fingers continue to slide around you like a vice. Her palm on you with so much pressure. "Fuck. I want you to cum."

It hits you - at first, not even particularly surprising, the rush of blood through your head.

"I wanna see it," she demands in a small, not particularly loud voice, so shy and small as the backs of her feet scramble for a hold on the mattress and she comes so hard - again, a sigh. "-feel your cum all over my knuckles, baby, cum on my-"

As to whether you or Wonyoung release first, tension coiled like a spring - well, it's anyone's guess.

"Wony-" Your mouth is open, eyes clenched tight, when Wonyoung bites a kiss down on your lip. All-consuming is the only way to describe the kind of desperation in her noises. It's everything, the sound and feeling, her wanting, her needing. All that wet heat - your stomach tightening, then slack, muscles stiffened up and falling loose as your grip becomes too tight, too heavy around the girl whose fist you're fucking and jerking and riding through this white-hot-blinding-orgasm, her wrist buckling to let you use her.

It's all that cum, lathering Wonyoung's palm, the space between her fingers, wrist and your shaft, slipping, easy. A whole puddle.

It's a few, careful strokes of her thumb and she's holding you up through that oversensitive high, forcing all that cum onto her belly, the hem of her nightshirt, all sorts of slick and messy. "Fuck, shit-" your hand still over her hot cunt, while hers just lays her weight over you, her lithe, slender body landing like it had lost any preference for form, for structure.

"Ugh," Wonyoung finally manages to get out.

"God." You collapse, leaning into the headboard behind you. With Wonyoung wrapped over your chest. Into your arm. Around your waist and mouth buried somewhere into the sweep of your neck: exhausted, entirely.

When she comes around, she does, however, make it an effort to use her tongue. Teasing along your jaw. A slip. And that makes you wonder.

"Messy," she says, wiping the back of her hand on your thigh, because where else should the proof end up.

"Ah."

She bites in, then tugs - lips on yours, until you lean up and wrap around the middle of her back, down into her hair and her hips. Because this part of her has never had a preference: to be treated either with the kind of affection and reverence afforded to an object of worship, or manhandled like someone, someone, no doubt has their fingers on her the instant she turns her ass this way or that.

"I could," she says, eyes unfocused and foggy - licking over the swell of her lip, "use a hand cleaning this up."

"Shower?"

“Mhmm.” Wonyoung slides her long legs off you, and in a look that's all too intentional, turns to move away and slip her nightshirt up, and-

Oh.

Right over her head. Then she tosses it aside like it's nothing. Wears the same sort of look that someone who hadn't had your fingers buried between their legs might. "Or, a bath sounds nice, if I’m allowed to change my mind."

"Say less, princess."

#wonyoung smut #ive wonyoung smut #ive smut #male reader #kpop smut #capslocked kinkvember

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c-nstantine · 14 days

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Random thought that I want to share. Okay here goes. While Bruce loves seeing Batmom in lingerie and lace he absolutely loves seeing her in her comfortable underwear, no bra oversized T-shirt and natural hair in a pineapple. It just turns him on even more

Warnings: There's not smut but it's a little steamy

Word Count: 0.7k

"Bruce, are you listening to me?" The answer was no. He was not listening. He couldn't even pretend to be listening. How could he when his wife sat in the middle of their bed in nothing but a pair of underwear and one of his old Wayne Tech t-shirts? This in combination with her tight coils being put up into a pile on top of her head was a dangerous combination for Bruce.

"Would you believe me if I said yes?" He asked, sitting at the foot of the bed. He felt Y/N crawl behind him before wrapping her arms around his neck.

"No," She said, placing a kiss on his stubbled cheek. He smiled softly and leaned into her touch. Something about her relaxed him and he was forever grateful for her.

"Okay, I wasn't. What's happened today?" He asked with sincerity in his tone. She hummed in approval of her husband paying attention to her. She started explaining to him how she checked on the various charities they ran before spending the rest of the day with Thomas, Martha, and Alfred.

"Your kids gave me a run for your money. I thought the twins teasing phase was bad, but now, I'm constantly running behind them," She admitted. It was true, the twins were little terrors except with Damian. For some reason, he was the only one that could keep them in line.

"I'm sorry. They'll grow out of it. We can always ask one of the boys to come in town for a week to help out," Bruce offered, tilting his head slightly so that he could look his wife in her face. Every day he was reminded how lucky he was to have her.

"I know but I don't want them to feel like they have to help. Bruce?" Y/N noticed her husband had a dreamy look in his eye. It was rare and reserved just for moments with them. His eyes always softened looking at her, it was like he had forgotten how cruel the world had been to him.

"Hmm?" He hummed, his steel blue eyes never once drifted from her face.

"Nope, I know that look. Uh-uh, you aren't putting another one of your big-headed babies in me," She spoke with certainty as she released her husband from her grasp. She slid back towards the headboard of their bed and crossed her arms. To Bruce, this only highlighted the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra. Good to know, he thought to himself.

"First of all, why are they always my kids? And what look?" He knew exactly what she was referring to. He began to make his way to her until he could lay with his head on her thighs. She ran a hand through his damp hair, raking her nails against his scalp.

"That look is how we ended up with Martha and Alfred in the first place." She reminded him.

"No, that was my Gotham University shirt, the knee-high socks, and the goddess braids," Of course, Bruce remembered her exact outfit when their twins were conceived. What kind of husband would he be if he didn't?

"Bruce!" She jokingly hit his shoulder. Memories flooded back from that night so many years ago. If she remembered correctly, the two of them had discovered a new position.

"What? I'm being honest. Now let me take care of my wife, please," He rolled over to his stomach and placed himself between her legs before pressing a small kiss to the center of her underwear.

"Bruce?" She shifted her hips lower to put her pussy directly in front of him. He nipped at her panties and pulled them down her thighs, nearly throwing them out of the room. He grinned as she spread her legs a bit more.

"I'll pull out," Lie. He'd simply make it so she'd be begging for him to finish inside of her. The only thing that was more exciting to him than her in his clothing was the thought of her being pregnant with his child.

Taglist: @flyestvenustrap@megamindsecretlair@blxckdesire@prettyvintageafternoon@lilbanas@certifiedloverwoman@melissa-ashe @hoyoooo

#x black!reader #black!reader #x black reader #black reader #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x black!reader #bruce wayne x reader #black!batmom #black batmom #x black batmom #bruce x black!batmom #bruce x black!reader #bruce x black reader #bruce x black batmom #bruce wayne smut

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bunnyhugs77 · 3 months

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Honey I'm Home

୨୧- Just a little slice of life of a hard working dad, his tired wife and their twin girls.

୨୧ WC: 900

Jungkook pushes open the door to your small two-bedroom flat, his keys jingling in the door which attracted the two little girls on the other side to come running instantly.

The soft patter of their socked feet hitting the wooden floors as they rushed to his as fast as they could. "Daddy!" The girls squealed. Jungkook crouched down, his once drained expression replaced with one full of delight.

"Girls!" He exclaims, taking the both of them in each of his arms, listening to their adorable laughter as he engulfed them into his tight embrace. "Daddy! Can't breathe!" Aria squeaks from where her head rested against his chest. Always the dramatic one of the two.

Jungkook laughs, apologizing and letting them go. Aria runs back to the kitchen where he could only assume the source of that flavourful scent was coming from. Meanwhile Hye-Ji stayed back to show him the flowers she'd picked just for him.

"Are these for me?" Bending at the waist to collect the crushed dandelions that were once in the grip of her fist. She nods with the brightest smile he's ever seen.

Picking her up as well, letting her rest on his side with one hand, careful not to ruffle the very elaborate princess dress she was wearing as he finally begins to make his way to the kitchen. "Thank you so much princess, I'll make sure to add this to my collection." He places a kiss to the crown of her head.

There you were. His eyes seemed to soften once they landed on you. In a button up and your favourite pair of mom jeans." Hi baby," He gets the chance to peck your lips briefly before Hye-Ji was asking to be put down.

She quickly ran off to her sister in the living room where there were colouring pages ripped out, building blocks all over the place, a box of crayons in the laundry bin full of clothes that were waiting to be folded.

"Hi." You manage a smile before resuming your blank stare into the pot of tomato sauce for the spaghetti that you'd been stirring for god knows how long. "Is everything okay?" Disregarding your mundane 'yeah' he know something is up.

"Honey, what's wrong? Talk to me." You sigh, dropping your shoulders, finally looking at him. He was in his typical work-wear for his day job as a private banker meanwhile he works part-time nights as a mail courier.

"Today was a bad day." Letting your head fall into your husband's firm chest in defeat. His hands raised to hold you in his arms the same way the have been for the last 5 years.

The shiny silver band of his wedding ring catching the light for a moment as he gently rubbed your back. "You wanna talk about it?"

You pout softly, "There's nothing to say, look at the state of the house. Hye-Ji turned the house upside down looking for her dress this morning. Then I took them to the grocery store and Aria got lost." Jungkook's eyebrows raise, but you weren't done.

"I finally got them to sleep for an hour while I did some laundry, and then I ended up falling asleep myself, waking up to crayons and toys everywhere, and Hye-Ji was crying because she missed you and then I started crying because I missed you too and-"

You couldn't believe this was making you tear up. The day was hectic and the fact you'd have to do it all over again tomorrow. Jungkook hushes you in a comforting manner, practically swaddling you in his arms. "I'm sorry I couldn't be here," you sniffle, stepping back.

"It's not your fault. You work two jobs. it's just hard sometimes." You admit and Jungkook gets an idea. "Go." He says and your brow arches, "I'll finish dinner, and take care of the girls. Go rest, or read that Jasper Wilde book you've been wanting to read. Please. Let me help, you deserve it." He pecks your forehead and you weren't going to fight him on it.

Leaving the kitchen and the responsibilities to him. Telling yourself that it would only be a thirty minute nap but it turned into 2 hours. By the time you walked back into the kitchen, it looked like you'd walked into a whole new house.

Everything was neat and tidy, the girls were sitting on the ground with a bowl of abandoned grapes shared between them as they watched Moana with an entranced gaze.

The laundry basket was gone, the floors were clean and the air smelled of soft fresh linens and cinnamon. Looking back to the kitchen where Jungkook quietly tidied up, humming softly to himself. You stood hidden from where you were admiring your little family.

You may not have had much but you had everything you needed right here. "You're amazing you know that?" Jungkook says as you approached him. "I should be saying that to you." You counter.

"No. I mean it, Y/n. Having two jobs is easy, but doing what you do everyday is a job for a saint. I appreciate everything you do for us, I love you so much." His lips pressing against your forehead while your heart felt so full of love. "I love you." You say.

"I have to potty!" Aria declares and the both of you look at each other.

"Not it."

#jungkook smut #jungkook #bts #jungkook ff #bts one shot #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic recs #fluff #drabble

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tacticaldiary · 10 months

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hi hello, if you have the chance, could u write a ghost x reader of an overworked/ burnt out reader who faints or something. just stressed out overprotective ghost to warm our hearts <3

thank you so much xxx

Bone Tired

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort ; Fluff

Ghost knows she's been pushing herself but he didn't think it was this bad. She nearly gives him a goddamn heart attack by collapsing right in front of him.

"Don't make me tie you to the bed."

"Jokes on you, I'm into that." She snickers at the long-suffering sigh he lets out.

Masterlist

Just because they weren't deployed on a mission didn't mean things were any less busy for them back at base. Drills, morning runs, training, paperwork, and more; there was always something to keep them busy.

"Focus." The low timber of his voice snaps her out of her thoughts, dragging her back to the present. "I would've incapacitated you three times by now." Ghost says with a frown. Or at least she thinks he's frowning under that mask. He sure sounds like it.

"Yeah, sorry L.T." She blinks, widening her stance and dragging her tired mind to attention. Everything just felt...off. Her clothes were too itchy, the bright fluorescent lights hanging from the room were too prickly, and the training mat under her feet felt difficult to get her footing into. Maybe she was catching a bug? She'd been feeling mildly feverish the past few days, after all, sporting a headache she opted to power through with painkillers.

Grunts and groans and jeers echo around them as others take their turn to spar with each other. She'd already lost against Gaz once, a rare outcome in itself, and now she was pretty sure Ghost was going easy on her. She's surprised she isn't face-first on the mat right now, actually.

Blinking away the knowledge that her arms feel like lead and her mind foggy, she lunges at him with her fist, an attack easily parried and side stepped by the man.

In all honestly, she's known for a while that she needed a proper break. A few days to herself full of nothing. The last op she'd been on had been long and gruelling, a solo one at that, weeks' worth of trekking through a mountain range far south in the cold to get to an isolated camp where their target had been laying low. It was a success, but she swears she can still feel the snow bite into her flesh if she thinks too hard about it.

The moment she'd got back there had been debriefings with Price to attend, files to be reported to Laswell, all the while keeping up with her usual routine and drills...

Her eyes widen as she's spun around, an arm circling her throat and pinning her in a hold.

"You're sloppy." Ghost clicks his tongue from behind her, and if she were any less exhausted, maybe she would have felt a shiver go down her spine.

Here, they were just soldiers, but in private? That's a whole other story. Their relationship had to be kept under wraps for a multitude of reasons, but Simon was one of the best things that had ever happened to her. Having someone who understood her work, who shared the experience and knew exactly what she was talking about, who knew the best ways to comfort and listen and advise her...it was rare.

A rare and beautiful thing, that's what they had. They helped each other grow, made up for the others weaknesses and blind spots.

But they weren't in private right now, so after she taps his arm to concede, he pushes her away, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Are you ill?" He asks tightly, eyes going up and down her body as if he could detect whatever was making her pause. She'd seemed fine the last time he saw her, but clearly something was wrong if she was this...dazed?

She shakes her head. "Just didn't sleep well last night." She lies through her teeth. She couldn't afford to be sick right now, couldn't afford the luxury of wasting time resting. She still had to report to Laswell, attend a meeting on what the next steps were to reach their targets close contacts. Then she promised Soap she'd hit the shooting range with him, and then Gaz asked her to help him with that paperwork he had to fill out...

Taking a step back, she stumbles a little.

It all bubbles up inside her, overwhelming and insurmountable, a mountain of work that keeps piling up to reach new heights and-

Was Ghost talking? She blinks, trying to get the ringing out of her ears. It was loud and annoying, and it made the headache she'd been sporting since yesterday stronger.

Ghost's eyes widen. He's definitely saying something. She hopes Simon knows she wasn't ignoring her on purpose. She was always good at reading him, so maybe if her vision would stop spotting and focus, she could actually see his eyes properly and figure out what was wrong.

In the end, the roaring in her ears becomes deafening, to the point where she squeezes her eyes shut. How easy would it be to just...stay like this. Just for one moment. To revel in the nothingness of the dark, where she got just one second of silence away from the list of things she had to keep doing.

Just one more moment.

Another step back, an unsteady sway.

She hits the ground hard, the last thing she hears being the yell of her name from that familiar, rough voice.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Bleary eyes blink themselves awake, squinting against the warm glow of the lamp by her bedside table. Groaning, she attempts to sit up, only to widen her eyes in alarm when a hand firmly pushes her back.

Instincts kicking in, her hand flies up to latch onto the wrist in a weak grip.

"It's just me." The low voice has her relaxes instantly, hand falling away onto the bed.

"Simon." She says, surprised when her voice doesn't come out as more than a whisper. "Where...what happened?" She winces at the throbbing in her head as she takes in the scene. Simon settled down in a chair next to her, a book laying open faced on her side table.

"You passed out." He says, plainly worried. "The medics said you fainted from exhaustion. Ain't that something to explain, love?" Now that he's ditched the mask, she can see the creases of worry in his forehead, the downwards quirk of his lips. "Damn near gave me a heart attack."

"Passed out?" She echoes, trying to remember. "I...guess I did."

She sure feels like it. Her body feels like lead, as if it's doing everything it can to ensure she stays in bed. Shivering slightly, she looks around for another blanket. When she reaches for the fluffy duvet folded at the foot of her bed, it's immediately snatched out of reach by Simon.

"Give it." She demands, reaching a hand out.

"You have a fever." Simon shakes his head, holding the item out of reach. "It'll break quicker this way."

"I'm fine." She protests, managing to sit up this time under his unimpressed stare. "I'm alright, Simon. Can't afford to be sick right now."

"That's not how it works." He sighs, standing up. "I thought I'd hurt you for a moment." She watches him walk towards the small table near the opposite wall, fiddling with something there while he talked. "Damn near took a year of my life away with how you crumpled onto the mat."

"It wasn't you." She assures him quickly. Some of the tension visibly drains from his shoulder in what she can only assume is relief. Needless as it is, she feels a little guilty. How long had he been thinking her passing out had been his fault? No, this was on her, on her busy schedule and-

Wait, what time was it?

Dread curls up in her gut as she slowly turns towards the small window. The lamp was on when she woke up, of course it was night.

"I was just tired is all." She says, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "But I'm as fresh as a daisy now, and I've got so much shit to do." She lets out an anxious, long breath as her brain kicks in, charting how much time she'd lost, how quickly she'd need to work to get it all done-

"I have that meeting with Laswell...I wonder if Price thinks I just didn't show up to his office..." She doesn't realise she's been muttering her thoughts aloud until Ghost cuts her off.

"You're not going anywhere, sweetheart." He declares over his shoulder. "Get your ass back in bed."

"I can't, there's too much I have to do today." She protests. "And I've already lost half the day-"

"I wasn't asking."

"Simon-" He turns around and she finally sees what he's been doing.

"Don't make me tie you to the bed." His threat is much less effective when he's holding one of her mugs that says 'Bad Bitch' in obnoxious neon pink calligraphy, the phrase surrounded by a flowery border. She'd got it for him as a gag gift for his last birthday and had cackled at the dead, unimpressed stare he fixed her with. It had remained in his room for a while before she'd snatched it, claiming she'd actually appreciate it.

"Jokes on you, I'm into that." She snickers at the long-suffering sigh he lets out. Her laughs morph into a deep chest-rattling cough that wipes the smile off her face and leaves her wincing.

Sitting next to her after tossing the pillow onto the mattress, he brings the warm mug of tea up to her. "Easy does it." He mutters quietly when she grabs it from him and takes a drink.

"Thank you." She sighs, handing it back.

"Talk to me." He orders, not unkindly. Simon wasn't someone who was all lovey-dovey, but he loved just as hard and much as the next person. Just because he didn't choose to flourish it with pretty words and smiles doesn't mean she felt any less cared for.

He was a man of action, through and through.

Little touches throughout the day, silent glances checking in with her. Staying by her side during missions, working in tandem and recognising when she needed space versus when she needed him near.

He was her other half, and it had been eating away at him that he didn't fucking realise she was this unwell until the consequences caught up with her.

Ghost won't admit the primal flash of fear that struck through him when she'd crumpled to the ground like that. He thought he'd hurt her while sparring, that he'd done something to make her pass out like that. Even after the medics cleared her and he carried her here, tucked her in and everything, there was still a nagging worry of 'what-if' in his mind.

The relief of hearing her confirm it wasn't him was tainted by the knowledge that he hadn't noticed her pushing herself.

After a moment of deliberation, she gives in, tucking herself back into bed and thinking for a moment. She tells him everything, tells him how she hasn't had a second to herself in these past few days, telling him about the load she has on her shoulders and the crushing time limit ticking down in her ears for every task she had.

He listens quietly, to his credit, doesn't interrupt her even when she trails off, having to muster up the energy to keep going.

The fact that talking tired her out to this degree made his heart twist uncomfortably.

"I didn't think I had a choice but to take it all head on." She finishes, stifling a yawn. She looks up at him for his response when he doesn't talk, finds him staring at her with a half-lidded gaze, a furrow in his brow.

"Why didn't you ask me?"

"Ask you what?" She asks, confused.

"For help."

That was...a good question. It takes her a second to come up with a sheepish answer. "I...I didn't think of that." She admits, drawing out another quiet sigh from him.

"You're going to be the death of me." He grumbles, but she can't complain when he's gently tugging her to the side and climbing in with her under the covers. "I've sorted things out with Price and Laswell. Do whatever else you need to when you're capable of not face planting into the mats again."

A warm feeling of gratitude washes over her, her heart warming with the kind gesture. It was so...it was so Simon.

When he tangles their legs together and tucks her into his side, she wrinkles her nose. "I'm all sweaty." She tries to argue, tapping at his shoulder half-heartedly when he lays down with her, a strong arm around her waist pulling her in.

"I've had your blood on my hands before, I don't think sweat is going to be a problem." She can hear his voice rumble low in his chest, right under where he head rests, and she hides a smile in the fabric of his shirt.

When he runs a hand through her hair, she practically melts against him.

Eventually, her shivering stops, replaced with a bone-deep warmth that nothing could chase away. Simon. The warmth of him, of his care, of his love. She'd take it over a heatpack any day.

His arms around her make her relax. Nothing would nag at her, drag her away to chain her to a desk under Simon's watch, that much she knows. Safe. Protected. The feeling was rare living the life she did with her job, but Simon made it so easy to believe that she was untouchable as long as she was with him.

Before she knows it, her eyes flutter shut and her breathing evens out, because goddamn did the bastard know exactly where and how to touch her to get her all sleepy and relaxed.

"Thank you." She mumbles against him, words half incoherent.

"Always, love." He rumbles back, brushing his lips over her head.

Requests Are Open! Reblog, Like and Comment!

(16/07/2023)

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vivwritesfics · 5 months

Text

No Need To Ask

Chapter Seventeen - Alone Together

The Norris' were a notorious crime family in the UK. One of many. With Norris, the head of the family, running operations with his son, Lando, they work to keep Y/N Norris, Norris' daughter protected. Life in a crime family wasn't something they wanted for her.

But with tension with one of the Spanish crime families rise, Norris and his now deceased wife come up with only one plan, offer their daughter to the Sainz's or risk an all out war.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY! Smut! Blowjob! Breeding Kink!

2K words

Series Masterlist

For the first three days that they were in the cabin, Y/N cleaned obsessively. She cleaned the bathroom cleaned the kitchen and the bedroom, anything to take her mind off of just how terrified she was.

Carlos worked at the old laptop. There was an encrypted chat that the heads of families used to communicate. Every day Lando asked on the chat how Y/N was doing and Carlos always answered. On the outside she was fine, but he knew that wasn’t what lay beneath.

After three days, the two of them began to get antsy. Being cooped up in this tiny safehouse was incredibly uncomfortable. They both wanted to get outside, but it was far too risky.

After three days, Y/N and Carlos found themselves seeking comfort. Comfort that came from each other.

When Carlos wasn't at the old laptop he was in the kitchen, tapping his short nails against the wood of the table. He'd done it so much that he'd left marks in the wood, four little crescents carved out of it.

He was stressed, that much was clear.

There wasn't a lot to do in the cabin, not once Y/N had finished cleaning. She was bored, and she was running out of clothes.

"Do you think we'd be able to find a shop somewhere?" She asked as she walked into the kitchen. They didn't have a lot, and there was certainly no variety. Just tins of spaghetti.

Carlos shrugged his shoulders. "I'll have to when we began running out of food. Why, do you need something?" He asked as she leaned against the table.

She grabbed the hem of the shirt she was wearing. His shirt. But then she shook her head. Although no words had been said, Carlos understood completely.

He waited until she'd fallen asleep. Carlos had cooked them dinner and Y/N had showered. He then held her in bed as she fell into a fitful sleep.

Carlos grabbed a cap and sunglasses. The sun was beginning to set as he placed them on the bridge of his nose, but he had to be as inconspicuous as possible. The sweats and grey shirts were certainly helping.

Carlos walked out of the cabin, locking the door behind him. He peered through the window before he went, making sure Y/N was still asleep. When he confirmed that she was, he began walking, through the woods and towards the nearest little town.

Ever vigilant, Carlos listened to every little noise. He made sure he was completely alone as he walked through the trees, and then made sure he was aware of everyone around him once he was in the town.

Carlos was an incredibly recognisable man. But, at the edge of his territory, he was around people that were unaware of the power be had in their country.

He shopped, buying a range of things. From ingredients for dishes more exciting than spaghetti and clothes.

He didn't know Y/Ns size, having not been a very good husband thus far, but he still tried to shop for her. He bought her vest tops, cardigans, shorts and sweat. Everything she needed to be comfortable.

He went to one more shop, one that sold more recreational items. Carlos perused the shelves, but he didn't take too long, desperate to get back to the safety of the cabin.

***

Y/N woke up, cold and alone. Carlos wasn't in the bed beside her, he wasn't at the desk or in the bathroom. He certainly wasn't in the kitchen either.

"Carlos?" She called as she gripped the blankets.

The door clicked!, unlocking. Y/N could do nothing but watch, her heart beating, fists clenching the blanket as the door to the cabin opened.

A sigh escaped her lips as her husband stepped through the door, carrier bags on his arms. He dropped them and quickly turned to lock the door behind him.

Carlos pulled hid sunglasses from his face and his hat from his head. He looked at Y/N as he began rummaging through the first carrier bag. "Querida, you're awake," he said as he pulled out clothes.

Women's clothes. Woman's clothes for Y/N. She watched him as he put then away in the wardrobe, hanging them up alongside his own clothes. She had several thoughts swirling around in her head, unable to grasp onto a single one as she saw the garments.

Like, how his pet name for her had become almost sincere, no longer sarcastic. Like, how he'd noticed how much she wanted something of her own to wear and had put his life in danger to get it for her.

After the clothes were away, Carlos pulled two more things from the bag and presented them to Y/N.

Two books sat stacked in his hands. "I would have found you a chess set if I could have," he said as Y/N grabbed the first books.

The covers were beautiful, and she knew they couldn't have been cheap. One book, the one Y/N held in her hands, was in English, the other in Spanish.

There was no way Y/N would have been able to express her gratitude. She placed the book down and stood from the bed, throwing her arms around him. "Thank you," she whispered, her head against his chest.

Carlos hesitantly wrapped his arms around her. "I know I haven't been good to you," he said. "And I never expect you to forgive me for it."

She just continued to hold him. She couldn't deny it, couldn't think of words to comfort him, either. She squeeze and released, climbing back under the covers of the bed.

Y/N stayed up to begin the English book. Carlos stripped down to his underwear and climbed under the sheets. He wrapped one arm around her, pulling her in to rest against his shoulder as she read.

In their currently predicament, it was hard to find sleep. Bur Y/N and Carlos found themselves waking up at any odd hour of the night, hearts beating erratically as they looked around with panic.

They were rarely awake at the same time, one making sure the other was asleep. Sometimes she woke up to Carlos standing at the window, staring out at the world beyond the cabin.

On the fourth day, the two of them found themselves wanting each other. It was lonely and everything had changed. The only constant was each other.

Carlos sat at the kitchen table. He’d spent the morning trying to find the whereabouts of his mother and sister, as well as gathering as many of his men as he could. But it was hard. It was frustrating.

Dressed in her new clothes, Y/N approached him. She could see the frustration written on his face, and it probably would have been better to stay away, but she just couldn’t. She walked over and got onto her knees in front of him, hands settling on his thighs.

“What are you doing, Querida?” He asked as he stared down at her, subconsciously tensing his thighs under her touch.

Y/N let her fingers dancing across his sweats, dancing up towards his lap. But she didn’t let herself go that far. “I wanted to thank you,” she said. “You went out and bought me clothes and books, and I wanted to thank you.”

Carlos said nothing as she grabbed the drawstrings holding his sweats closed. She pulled on the strings, loosening them. From there it was easy enough to free him from his confines.

He was hard, painfully so. Y/N swiped her thumb across his tip, gathering the precum. She lifted her thumb to her mouth and licked it off.

Hissing, Carlos bucked his hips up.

When you've never done something like this before, it was easy to become anxious. She kept herself close to him as she moved her hand up and down, gripping him. She kept her eyes on him as she moved her lips closer and took him into her mouth.

Carlos set out a shuddering breath, head thrown back. "That's it," he breathed as she started moving. Slowly she moved herself up and down his shaft, trying her best to suck at the same time.

It wasn't the easiest thing to accomplish on her first try. It was easy to tell it was her first go of it, too. But Carlos was loving every second. He hesitantly moved his hand to her head, not pushing, just holding. "You're doing great," he reassured when she looked up at him.

That sight there was nearly enough to make him explode.

His grip on her hair tightened as he gently pulled her up. It stung, but Y/N endured it. No, not endured. Loved it. She loved it when he gripped her hair and pulled her to her feet. She loved the display of dominance he showed.

"Go to the bed, querida," he said as Y/N pulled up, dusting off her knees. He moved his hands from the top of her head, running his fingers along her jaw. "You're beautiful," he said as he pulled her closer.

She didn't see anything back, just kissed him. Although things had improved between her and Carlos, she wasn't quite there yet. But she was willing to give it a try.

Carlos pulled away, sitting back in his chair. He gave her one single look and she went to the bedroom, pulling off her top and laying on the bed. It was the way Carlos looked at her, a reminder of the power he had. But it didn't scare her. For the first time she found herself willing to obey him.

It didn't make her look weak, she realised as she laid on the bed. Listening to him didn't make her the weak, docile little wife that she maybe once was. Her listening to him wasn't an admittance of submission.

Carlos leaned against the doorframe as he looked at her, at the way she kept her hands laced together over her stomach. He smiled, but Y/N didn't see it. She was staring at the window, so Carlos stared out of the window, too.

There was nothing there. Thank god. He'd been ever vigilant since they'd arrived at the cabin, always keeping watching. Watching for anybody trying to kill him and watching his wife too. Since her safety was the most important thing.

Carlos strode over, stripping himself as he did so. His clothes littered the floor as he strode over to the bed and climbed on top of it, climbed on top of her. He grabbed her shorts and wiggled them down her lips, tongue between his teeth as he did so.

He settled over her, holding himself as he lined himself up. But, as he did, Carlos looked at her, looked into her eyes. "I want you to carry my son," he said suddenly, taking Y/N by surprise. "I want you to next boss of the Sainz family, after myself."

Y/N breathed deep and nodded her head almost desperately. She kept her eyes on him as he gently pushed forward, entering her.

It was a far cry from the first time they had ever had sex, from the night of their wedding. If she could have, she would have replaced that memory with one of these.

Carlos thrust into her, his jaw tensed as his hips snapped forward. He let out grunts and Y/N let out cries, but she couldn't stop thinking of their first time, and how much she wished this was it. Even though they were hiding away in the Sainz safehouse, it was still better than their first time together.

Although she was enjoying it, Y/N's mind was elsewhere. She let Carlos mindlessly hump her, finishing inside of her before too long. But that was fine, she could finish herself off when she was in a better frame of mind. The sex was still good, she just wasn't in the zone. But she still moaned and whined as Carlos pushed her towards the edge.

As soon as he was done, Carlos pulled out and grabbed his pillow from the top of the bed. He placed it under her hips and leaned forward to kiss her head.

Carlos walked out of the bedroom, heading back to the kitchen to start on dinner.

Taglist (open): @multi-universe21 @formulas-bitch @gills-lounge @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @carlossainzwho @f1lov3r @samaib11 @charli123456789 @queenofmanydreams @ironmaiden1313 @vellicora @glitterf1 @80sloverry @lightdragonrayne @moonayu @bellsalabanccini @topguncultleader @handsupforamiracle @cmleitora @ashy-kit @jenniferrvsesi @barcelonaloverf1life @sbella13 @nicolettecallednikki @darleneslane @thehufflepuffavenger1 @champagneproblems17 @aespie @yukheizcigarettes @rewmuslupin @hollie911 @ashy-kit @ririgy @stqrgir1 @zaynzierulez @minkyungseokie @rafaaoli @carolinesainz @ashies-ln4op81aa23 @measimp @mizelophsun11 @eviethetheatrefreak @andydrysdalerogers @formulaal @graciewrote @biancathecool

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gyeomsweetgyeom · 5 months

Text

[10:04 pm]

(cw: f!reader, side characters are inebriated)

Frat!Jaehyun stared at his phone expectantly. You were late. 28 minutes and some seconds late to the party you had told him just earlier that day that you'd come to. The crowd of party goers was getting thicker, the air was getting hotter, and people were getting more and more unbearable. Even though the party had only started about an hour ago, he could could count on both hands the amount of times he'd already been offered a drink, but he denied them every time. He wanted to be clear and level headed for when you would soon text him that you were at the entrance and wanted to find him.

But another 15 minutes passed and he had still heard nothing from you. His calls went to voicemail, his texts were unanswered, and there was radio silence on your end. He was getting restless, had he done something to annoy you? He didn't think he did, but maybe when you offered him a drink of your coffee earlier he had taken too much. But that wouldn't justify you ignoring him.

He pulled away from the wall in search of familiar faces to ask if anyone had seen you. Taeyong, Mark, Johnny, and Doyoung all answered no. Yuta yelled over the music, "It's crazy packed in here, she'll find you! Want a drink?"

Jaehyun shook his head angrily, "She hasn't answered any of my texts, I'm getting worried."

Taeyong took note of the concerned look on Jaehyun's face and leaned in to tell Jaehyun, "I saw her roommate outside not too long ago, you should ask her."

Jaehyun nodded, quickly making his way outside to catch sight of your roommate. She was clearly tipsy but was able to tell Jaehyun that you were ready for the party when you got a huge headache and decided to stay in. He thanked her profusely before fighting his way through the thick crowd to the front door.

"Bro! Where are you going?" Mark yelled.

"She's sick in her dorm, I'm going to run by a pharmacy and get her some medicine and stuff," Jaehyun answered.

"But you're Social Chair, man. You can't leave!" A drunk Haechan whined.

"I have bigger responsibilities, get him some water before he puts another bathroom out of commission for the night. I'll be back tomorrow," Jaehyun firmly told Mark.

Jaehyun was running quickly to your dorm after he stopped by the pharmacy. He flashed the RA a quick smile and quickly pulled out his student ID. "I'm glad you're here," she told him as she led him to your room, "poor thing, her roommate told me she'd never seen her this poorly."

Jaehyun's nervousness heightened, he gave the RA a quick thanks as he slid into your dorm. He left his shoes at the door and padded to your room quietly. He pushed the door open as gently as he could, only to catch sight of you buried under you blankets and pillows with soft only sniffles heard.

"Baby?" He questioned quietly, making his way to the edge of your bed.

"Jaehyun?" Came your weak response.

"My love, why didn't you tell me you were sick?" He cooed softly.

You whined, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes, "you had a party you were so excited about. It hit me so suddenly, I just came to bed. I don't even know where I left my phone."

He shook his head with a sigh, he pulled the pills out from the pharmacy bag and dropped two into one of your hands and a gatorade in the other hand, "take these while I look for it."

He moved around your room quietly, folding the clothes you had no doubt left on the floor in your rush to get to the party, putting away shoes and searching your desk- no phone. He stepped into the bathroom finding it beside an open bottle of eyelash glue and one false eyelash.

Jaehyun placed your phone on your bedside table and slid into bed with you, pulling you into his hold and letting you rest your head on his chest. "You know I care more about you than some stupid party right?" He whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You nodded against his chest, "You were excited about this one, though."

He chuckled softly, running his hand down your back comfortingly, "I was excited because you were excited to surprise me with your outfit, my love."

You nuzzled into his chest, squeezing your arms around his waist, "thank you for taking care of me Jaehyun."

"I'd do anything for you," he stated softly.

You were drifting to sleep, your eyes struggling to stay open, "Can you change next time, so you don't smell like a frat house though?"

He rolled his eyes, you were going to be better in no time.

#kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #nct #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct timestamps #nct x reader #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun blurb #jaehyun timestamps

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deathbysnakes · 6 months

Note

Don't you think it would be adorable that pierro plays hide and seek with an adopted child (y/n) while the other harbingers are in shock watching this scene??

The last part should be hilarious hahhahaha

Hide & Seek Catastrophe

Pierro & child reader (Platonic)

Side note:Sorry this took so long, I've been kinda stressed lately.

Warnings:You almost get experimented on

Pronouns:He/Him (All male harbingers + Dottore's clones) She/Her (All female harbingers) You/Your (Reader)

Fluff/Crack

Explanation:You have recently been adopted by the leader of the fatui harbingers, Pierro, and you've convinced him to play hide and seek with you, but you made the not so smart decision to go to the fatui headquarters to hide (I like to imagine that the harbingers houses are connected to the fatui headquarters)

!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!

"Close your eyes, and count to 60, no peaking!" You chirped happily, as you watched Pierro follow your instructions. "60? Why not 30?" Pierro mumbled to himself nervously, something about having you out of his sight in such a dangerous place made him anxious, but he ignored his feelings, he wanted you to be happy after all, you've been cooped up in Pierro's mansion ever sense you've been adopted, it feels wrong to deny your request when you've been wanting to stretch your legs and have some fun for the past few days.

You immediately dashed off as soon as Pierro started to count, not only was this your chance to play, it was your chance to explore. You opened the mansions door and it lead out into a huge palace. You couldn't help but stare in awe for a few seconds before dashing off into the palace.

You squealed in surprise as you saw a intimidating figure as soon as soon as you turned a corner, the figure was tall, muscular, and had long black hair, but perhaps the most intimidating thing about him was his helmet, you couldn't see his face because of it, and it rightfully disturbed you. The man turned and looked at you, nothing more, just stared. "What is a child doing in a place like this?" You tensed up, the feminine voice was like a soothing melody, but there was something off about it. You slowly turned around and came face to face with a angelic woman with black and pink hair, and a strange cross-shaped white cloth that was kinda covering her eyes. "Let's get you back to the house of hearth~" She sang, reaching out for you, you squealed in fear and made a run for it. The woman watched you run with a amused face, not attempting to make chase, she'd just tell Arlecchino.

You eventually slowed down and attempted to catch your breath with tears in your eyes, who knew this place could be so terrifying? Clearly not you. "Whoa, you okay there kid? You look like you've just seen a ghost." You quickly whip around and before you is standing a ginger haired man with a kind but worried smile on his face. "Calm down, I'm not going to hurt you." The man crouch's down to your leavel. "My names Tartaglia, yours is?" Tartaglia says, his head tilting to the side to try and seem less threatening. "[Name]..." You answer, tears still clouding your vision. "That's a nice name!" Just as you start to feel relaxed, you hear footsteps behind you. "Tartaglia, about how much money you spent when you were in Liyue..." The man with glasses stopped when he saw your small figure staring up at him with scared eyes. "What is this child doing here?" He asked in a stern tone, crossing his arms. "Uh...I'm not sure, I kinda just saw it." Tartaglia responded, putting a hand on the back of his head. "No matter, Tartaglia you spent 7 million mora when you went to Liyue, what is the meaning of this?!"

As the two argue you heard a voice "Psst! Hay! Over here!" You turned to see a red eyed and blue haired child that looked about 10 motioning to you to come over, you walk towards him hesitantly, being cautious not to catch the attention of the two arguing men. "Do you want to see something cool?" He asked, there was a curtain cunning look in his eyes that made you uneasy but you nodded hesitantly. "Then follow me!" The boy took off into a sprint, and you followed behind, he was surprisingly fast for a child his age. You froze as you arrived at a scary looking lab. "What's this, Alpha?" You gasp in surprise when you hear someone's voice behind you, you turn around and see a tall red eyed and blue haired man, the boy, that's apparently called Alpha, and the man looked related. "A new test subject!" You're eyes widened in terror as you heard those words. "How kind of you." The man walked over to Alpha and ruffled his hair, then turned back to you. He started to reach out towards you. "Now, let's be going now-" Before he could finish his sentence you felt yourself being picked up from under your arms and being dashed away.

You felt yourself being put down on a bench, and when you looked up you saw a short purple haired man looking down at you with a angry look on his face. "What were you thinking?! Weren't you ever taught not to go with strangers?!" You started to tear up at his harsh words and he let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "If you ever see someone with red eyes and blue hair, don't go near them, don't engage with them, go the other way, you got it?" You nodded, and the man started to walk away.

You got up off of the bench and heard something crunch beneath you, you looked down and saw a little robot, then you heard a gasp. You turned around and saw a green haired woman looking down at the little robot you just crushed in shock, then her face quickly shifted into anger. "You little brat! Look what you've done to little Tom 5.8!" You teared up at the woman yelling, but she still didn't give up. "Do you know, how much blood and sweat I put into making him?! Of course you don't! You're a dumb little child! This is why I hate children, they ruin everything!" You broke into a full on break down, crying loudly as the woman continued shouting insults at you. "Sandrone that's enough!" Sandrone let out a "ow!" When she was hit in the shoulder with a cane. "You've done enough, leave the poor child alone! " Sandrone angerly stomps off while mumbling angerly.

You felt a gloved hand on your head as you continued crying, as you started to calm down and wipe the tears from your eyes, you see what looks like a friendly old man with an elf like appearance standing in front of you. "There, there little one, she's like this all the time, there's nothing to feel guilty about." You started to calm down at his soothing words. "Would you like a pastry?" He asked, reaching into a basket, you nodded as your tears started to stop. He pulled out a few macarons and you hesitantly took them from him. "Try to avoid Sandrone, she's always in a bad mood and takes it out on the poor soul that comes in a 10-foot radius of her." The old man said as you ate. "I'll be off now, keep yourself safe little one." The old man said as he started to walk away.

"Don't cry, it makes you look ugly." You turned around and saw a tall blond woman in a white and black dress in front of you. "Why are you staring at me like that? Fix your face." The woman said, crossing her arms. You started to tear up again and the woman's eyes widened. "What did I just tell you?" The woman leans down, takes a handkerchief out, and wipes the tears off of your face. "Don't. Cry." This strange way of trying to comfort you actually made you feel better. "You're only getting this treatment because you're cute." The woman huffed. "There you are." The both of you turn around, a woman with white and black hair is walking towards the two of you. "Come to me my child, it's time to go back to the house of hearth." The blond woman in the black and white dress gets up and steps back, letting the black and white haired woman approach you. You backed away anxiously as the woman got closer, and then another person came into your vision, a man with blue hair and a bird mask. "Hands off Arlecchino, this one wondered into my lab, there for it's my test subject now." Arlecchino gave the blue haired man a mean look. "You will not be taking one of my children." You noticed, behind her, the same black and pink haired woman was watching you, well, it looked like she was watching you, but her eyes were closed. "Both of you will not be taking my child."

You felt yourself being picked up, and when you turned around, it was Pierro. "Your child?" You turned to see the ginger guy with the same black haired guy with glasses. "You have a child?" Tartaglia asked again. You noticed familiar faces gathering around. "Sence when did you have a child?" The short purple haired man asked as he leaned against a piller. "One week ago, Scaramouche." Pierro answered and turned back to you. "And why do you have meringue on your lips?" You're eyes widened and you looked around, you've already had your daily sweet for today, you weren't supposed to have another, and you had mutable macaroons. "That would be my falt." The little old man spoke up. "I found your child crying so I gave [preferred pronouns] some of my pastries." Pierro frowned at this. "Why was my child crying?" The little old man looked over at Sandrone, and Pierro followed his gaze. "We'll have a little, chat about this later, but now, we're going back home, and let this be known, if my child has a single scratch on them, you all will be punished." Pierro started to walk away but you whined and tried to get out of his grasp. "What is it now?" Pierro asked with a sigh. "I want to play hide and seek again, but this time, I want to be the seeker!" It was silent for a moment before it was broken by a chuckle. "I don't see why not?" The little old man spoke. "I want to play hide and seek!" The little red eyed and blue haired boy called Alpha you saw earlier chimed in. Pierro sighed again. "Alright, but this time, you count for 30 seconds." Pierro said in a series tone, but there was also a hint of softness in it. "I want to play too." Everyone turned to see who was talking, it was the intimidating man with the helmet you saw earlier. "Really, you of all people?" The blue haired man with the bird mask spoke, giving the intimidating man a judgmental look. "Yes."

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luveline · 1 year

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A roan drabble where she asks to sleep with reader and Eddie even though she’s been sleeping in her own bed for months now ❤️

I hope it's still okay! dad!eddie x sort of step mom!reader ♡ 3.5k

Eddie watches his daughter out of the corner of his eye. She's sitting in the armchair next to your vanity like a tiny queen, head back in your pillow from the bed and wrapped up warm in thick fleece pyjamas. Half her clothes or more are pyjamas at this point.

You're standing at the top of the bed shaking out a new fitted sheet. It's a purple so light it's almost white, and you'd got it today for next to nothing. You keep the bedsheets, the whole room even, pretty neutral, worried he won't like your more feminine covers, but when you'd seen the bedspread set today at the store Eddie couldn't care less how girly it was, he wanted you to have it just to see you smile when you're lying in it.

"Take a corner, handsome," you prompt, not irritated, exactly, but eager to be done.

Eddie grabs the bottom corners and you take the top ones, the two of you working to tuck it over the mattress without one or the other pinging off.

Roan slides off of the chair and runs to Eddie's side to help.

"Thanks, babe." He gives her hair a stroke.

"Take the corner, dad!"

Eddie zips his mouth shut and does as he's told. Together, the three of you make the bed, and when the sheets are taut and almost too pristine he grabs Roan up in his arms, impossibly heavy but still easy enough to carry, and throws her into the middle of the bed. Raucous giggles erupt from her, the kind that are instantly infectious, practically sticky with joy. Kids love when you throw them at things.

"Again!" she demands, standing up with her arms held high.

Eddie waves with both hands for her to run into his arms. He picks her up, spins her around, and throws her aggressively into the cushion of your fancy mattress. She actually bounces, screaming with joy at the ricochet of her body.

You watch in horror.

"What?" Eddie laughs. "She's fine!"

"I can't believe she enjoys that."

"Why? Come here."

"No." You stand very still. Eddie takes a small step toward you. "Eddie, no. Stay away from me."

"I won't pick you up," he says, maybe lying, maybe not.

You step back. You're in an old sleep shirt but a new pair of pyjama trousers. He insisted on them to lengthen the luxuriousness of your new sheets, and you look so pretty that he almost feels bad when he grabs you, pushing you back into the bed next to Roan, his girl still giggling lazily. When you shriek, she laughs all over again.

"Roan," you beg, trying not to laugh, "Ro, please, baby, don't let him push me around."

"It's fun," she tells you.

"Because you're little! I'm big, I'm not as floppy as you are, I'm full of old bones, princess, please."

You stare at her pleadingly. Roan, still laughing, the tiny white flash of her baby teeth peeking out as she smiles huge, takes pity on you despite how much fun she's having and climbs on top of your chest, her arms wrapping around your head protectively.

"Stay away, dad," she warns.

You're smothered by her neck pressed to your mouth and nose. You turn your face to suck in a breath, brushing the lengthening curtain of her dark hair from your face so you can keep an eye on your awful boyfriend. He has his arms crossed.

He reminds you of the very first time you'd met him. He'd been carrying Roan back to a car, one arm full of her, the other clutching a paper bag that wasn't meant to be. Roan had been so small, so much younger, and she hadn't been speaking very much but she had been screaming, wailing at the top of her lungs. She'd hit herself in the eye, you remember, watching from afar with a sad frown. Eddie looked depressed, worried for her and agitated as parents tend to be, and Roan had been overwhelmed. You'd seen them a bunch of times before at that very same store — you'd meant to go up to him more than once and ask for his number. Not because you're especially brave, or because he seemed even slightly interested, but because he was maddeningly attractive. In a less hectic instance, he'd been dressed in Sunday best and Roan had been wearing the same, you still remember the cornflower blue dress and matching shiny shoes, and his sweetness had marked the beginning of something big. The beginning of all of this.

Flowers? Roan had said, her voice young, clumsy.

What about flowers, sweetheart? Eddie asked.

Flowers…

Eddie leaned against the handlebars of the shopping cart she was sitting in, his face close to hers, and said super gently, Do you wanna go look at the flowers?

Roan nodded hurriedly, like she was worried Eddie might change his mind, and Eddie, your love, had put down the pasta jars he'd been looking between to push her back to the front of the store with all of the bouquets. He'd walked past you, and as he did, he said to Ro, I'm not getting you two bouquets again. One is enough, bubby. You understand?

That image of him buying his daughter two different bouquets because she asked for them, that's what got you most. You know, besides his pretty face.

"What are you thinking about?" Roan whispers.

"How did you know I was thinking?"

"You look like you need to burp."

"Oh, my god," Eddie says, feigned sternness faded and replaced with a sheepish delight. "Roan, I hope you don't say burp in school."

"No, dad, I don't say burped." Eddie nods. "I just burp."

Eddie covers his face with his hands and pretends to be in agonising pain. It should be a horrific watch, but his melodrama pays off and Roan laughs so much she forgets she's hiding you from her dad, jumping off of the bed to crowd his legs.

"She has no manners," he whines.

"She's just a baby," you deny. "Babies don't have manners."

"She is not a baby! She's my baby, but she's old enough to not burp in front of people," he cries, looking down at her with wide eyes. "They're gonna say I dragged you up."

"I like when you drag me up," she says firmly.

Eddie leans down to put his hands under her armpits and drags her up the length of his chest obligingly, positioning her on the curve of his hip. She helps brush the hair out of his eyes, and he closes them, tilting his head back, pale face to the bedroom light.

"Thanks," he murmurs.

"Yeah. You're very handsome, daddy."

Roan is one of those kids who absolutely reflects what she's given, as the majority of them tend to be. You pour love in, love comes right back out.

When she was younger and she could talk but didn't very often, and you'd been bright shiny new in their lives, the total object of Roan's affection, you'd been crying about something you don't remember now and Roan had climbed into your lap and said, "It's okay, sweetheart." It showed not only how beautifully sensitive she was and would continue to be, but how patient Eddie is with her. How loving. He's comforted her through innumerable mood swings, tantrums, inexplicable showings off, so gently and so often that his loving placating seeped into her, and when she'd seen you upset, she didn't hesitate. She's a total sponge.

It's invaluable, and it also means she hears Eddie say crass words or hears him flat out burp without apology and does the same. What's the opposite of a silver lining?

Eddie squints at her, her compliment warming his heart no doubt. "Thank you, Ro. You're very handsome too. You're beautiful, capital B."

"Thank you," she says distractedly, more focused on brushing his hair with her fingers than the conversation.

You yawn and stretch before standing to finish making the bed. Eddie and Roan fall into conversation, murmurings about hair and hair brushes, coconut milk conditioner and no tears shampoo. They move onto midnight snack options as you shake out the quilt, in their own world. You don't mind making the bed up by yourself. You might if it were solely up to you, but it's Eddie who usually does it, and besides, you don't often weigh up who does what. Eddie's good at keeping it equal. Actually, he's awful at keeping it equal, but the brunt of it never falls to you. His lingering worry about burdening you with things has been a past point of contention, though those conversations are nearly always built around love at the core. You want to do more, you always have, and these days Eddie lets you.

Like taking care of Roan. Things progressed naturally. Eddie's always been the primary caregiver and he likely always will be, you'd never resent or refuse that, though again, you love Ro so much you'd do just about anything for her. You love Eddie the same way. So when they moved into your home —'your' as a collective, the three of you plus Lucky the fish— things did change. You started doing more for both of them. And that's how you want it to be.

You change the covers while they have their little lovefest, Eddie leaning against the dresser and Roan leaning against him. You can't be jealous. He watches you beeline for the living room every day after work; you get home and you and Roan are thereafter engaged in a cuddle session. A tradition that started with quick hugs or cheek kisses with permission and slowly morphed as you became closer into endless affection while he makes dinner. He never complains more than the occasional unserious whine. You guys don't love me as the puppy dog eyes go wild.

You're setting the pillows back on the bed in new cases when Eddie pulls himself out of their playful teasing. "Thank you, babe."

"Of course. How does it look? Good?" you ask, straightening the comforter.

"It looks great," he agrees. "How's that, Ro? It's almost like yours now, we're going lilac too."

"Mine are sparkly," she says.

"You mean shiny?"

She nods, reaching out toward the bed with both arms. Eddie puts her down at the end and her head flops back into the sheets. She lets out a huff.

"This is nice."

"Yeah?" you ask. "We can get you some if you want."

"Maybe…" She looks between you and Eddie. "Is it time to brush our teeth now?"

"Did you say you were hungry?"

She nods hesitantly.

"Well, maybe we can go have something to eat first. I don't want you sleeping with a rumbly tummy," Eddie says, wriggling his fingers at her in a common gesture for take my hand.

"But this is so comfy," she says. Comfy sounds best of all in her little voice. It's a new word for her, and it's chewed over slowly.

"You can come back."

"Can I?" she asks.

Eddie shrugs. "Why not?"

"Oh my god!" she shouts, sliding off the end of the bed and collapsing into a heap at the foot of it. You step in to help her up, and she's quickly out of your arms and running down the stairs.

"Ro!" Eddie calls. "No running down the stairs, baby, please!"

Her footsteps noticeably slow.

You raise an eyebrow at Eddie. "I think what you think you just said is different to what Roan thinks you just said."

"Gee, thanks, Gollum."

"Isn't that the gremlin guy?" you ask, genuinely hurt for a second.

"No! No, he tells riddles, babe. 'Cause you're speaking in tongues and I don't know what you're trying to say I said." He scratches a hand through his limp hair, t-shirt sliding up to expose a slice of his stomach. "What did I say?"

"I think," you begin, intertwining your fingers with his free hand, the two of you starting out of your room and down the stairs to find Roan before she makes a mess, "that she thinks she just got invited to a sleepover."

Eddie pauses one step below you. "Really?"

"I think so."

He keeps on down, your hands swinging lightly. "Oh, whoops. It's Saturday, so I guess it doesn't matter. Do you mind?"

"I don't mind, but she can't sleep on me all night, my chest is still sore." You had the flu recently, and it aches when you breathe in too deeply.

"Deal, baby… how sore?"

You wave a hand at him, pulling apart as you enter the kitchen. "Fine, just not fine for her to lean on me for eight hours."

"She can sleep by me."

By the time Roan and Eddie moved in, Roan was already sleeping in her own bed most nights, and even more when you started dating Eddie. But that doesn't mean she doesn't worm her way in. When you weren't at the trailer Eddie never minded having her with him (at least, when it wasn't too hot), and when you were she'd sometimes spend the night anyways despite a lack of room, citing monsters of nightmares or bad tummies. The best ones were her big pleading eyes accompanied by, "I miss you guys." Worked every time.

Since moving in, she's spent the large majority of time in her own bed. She's getting bigger all the time, and it's just how things are. Co-sleeping ends eventually.

Not quite yet, though. Roan still tries her luck, and most of the time you nor Eddie mind if she slips in. She insists on sleeping in the middle, usually, curled into Eddie's waist with a hand in your hand, or lying basically on top of you as Eddie sandwiches you both in his arms.

But again, it's been happening less and less. If Roan wants to sleep in your bed tonight, you don't mind. It might be nice. You don't have to wonder if she's sleeping soundly, or if she's sitting there stiffened to silence by the creaking bathroom window echoing down the hall.

Eddie makes Roan a sandwich and cuts it into wonky stars. She scarfs them fast and says thank you five times in a row, slamming her way back up the stairs before you've had time to sit down. Eddie smiles at you fondly.

"She's so excited," he says, scraping her crusts into the trash. "It makes me feel bad. Wonder why we don't have her all the time."

"'Cause she kicks in her sleep. And… you know, you don't want her to know you're the little spoon so often."

"And she wiggles."

You sigh. She wiggles.

While Roan's upstairs, you sidle into Eddie's arms for a last proper kiss. It's not very deep and you don't need it to be, just firm, the kind of kiss that speaks for itself. He holds your shoulders still so he can plant a couple of quick pecks atop of it.

"Love you," you say.

"I love you too," he says. He closes one eye to squint at you with the other, his nose wrinkling up. "I love you. You look beautiful right now, your nose."

"My nose?" you ask.

Random but not unusual for him, Eddie furthers his compliment easily. "It looks cute." He leans in slowly to avoid startling you and kisses the tip of it.

You have such a crush on me, Munson, you'd usually joke, but for today you take the compliment and the kiss in stride.

"It's an okay nose."

"It's a great nose. And so kissable!"

You smile. You're used to his kindness, his sweetness, his affection, but you'll never be able to understand what you did to deserve him. Everyone deserves to be loved like this, and you're the one who was lucky enough to actually have him.

"Love you," you say again.

"I know. Trust me, baby, I know." He returns your lovesick smile.

"Guys, I think I dropped my toothbrush in the toilet!"

You're both startled. Eddie walks into the hallway, head turned upward as he shouts back, "You think or you know?"

A small, defeated grumble. "It's in the toilet, dad."

—

Eddie wakes up early, entirely by accident. The weekend is sacred in that the only thing he asks for is some quiet in the mornings to sleep in. He turns his head to look at the time on his alarm clock. 9.47AM. Not bad.

Your whispering woke him up.

Against his back, curled away from you both, he can feel Roan's smaller body. She worked her way in between just as he thought she would.

"When dad wakes up," you whisper, and Eddie thinks it's important to distinguish dad from your dad. There's something more intimate about it, he doesn't know what. "We'll let him have a shower and then I'll convince him that we need to go get pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream. And then we'll go see a movie, maybe, if they have one in the Hawk, or we could go to the movie store."

"Really?" Roan asks, awed.

"Yeah, baby, of course. Does that sound fun or what?"

"Yeah, that sounds super fun… but I have to go see Uncle Wayne, too, 'cause he– he said he'd make me, um, the good hotdogs."

"Yeah? Did he say what time?"

"Dinner."

"We have a big long day then," you say. He can hear your smile. "Breakfast, movie, Uncle Wayne's for dinner."

He doesn't need to see you to know how you're laying. You'll be on your back, Roan's head on your shoulders, a hand he can feel occasionally bumping his arm each time you stroke her hair back. Sometimes, you pull your legs up, knees together. It reminds him of how young you both are. He's at the very start of his late 20s and having Roan has made him feel both younger and more naive than he ever thought he could, and it has also made him feel very, very old. He thinks this might be one of the younger moments. We're only getting started.

"Okay. Will you help me get ready now?"

You laugh, the bed shifting under him as you move around. Eddie doesn't turn, too tired and too content to listen to your conversation. He thinks about getting up as he hears you both leave. That was a lot of things to do and if you want to do them all he really should move. He falls back asleep before he can manage it.

The second time he wakes, you're sitting at his hip, hand resting on his collar.

"Hello, handsome," you say. He recognises the feeling of your thumb against his neck, petting him softly. "You wanna go get some breakfast?"

His eyes are bleary with sleep, but you're still the prettiest thing he's ever seen. The more he knows you, the worse it gets. "You look so nice," he says, his tongue like lead in his mouth.

"Just put a little bit of make up on. I looked tired."

"What time is it?"

"It's almost eleven."

He struggles up into a sitting position. He gets a proper look at you and forgets all his aches and pains, your face and your arms and your pretty clothes at the very forefront of his thoughts immediately. He grabs your hand to make sure you're real.

"You look so pretty," he says.

"You're so lovely," you say back, tilting your head toward your shoulder. You're breaking his heart, looking like that.

Roan pushes open the door.

"Look, dad! We match!"

And there Roan is, in a shirt and skirt with the same colours. His heart breaks all over again. His girls.

"You do," he says, nearly speechless. "You look beautiful, look at your hair!"

You've twisted half of it up in two small ponytails at the back of her head so her face is clearly displayed.

"Thank you. Now get up! We're gonna get waffles."

"Oh, are we?" he asks, flopping backwards into the pillows again. "I'll get up." He lifts his head enough to show you both his serious face. "But you both have to give me a cuddle first. You know, as payment."

"Payment for what?" you murmur, though you lean in anyway, unafraid of rumpling your nice clothes.

He closes his eyes, feeling Roan's weight settle against his arm.

He'll steal as many minutes as you'll both give him, and then he'll go get dressed. Today's gonna be a long day. Good, but long.

—

more eddie and roan !! please reblog if you enjoyed!!♡

sorry for any typos, I will edit later tonight ♡♡♡♡

#eddie and roan #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #dad!eddie munson x reader #dad!eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things

1K notes · View notes

roosterforme · 3 months

Text

Adult Education Part 20 | Hangman x OC

Summary: Knowing that Jessica loved him was opening up a whole new world of possibilities for Jake, and his mind was running wild. With Brian's return to campus looming in front of her, Jessica relies on Jake to be the best kind of distraction.

Warnings: Fluff, oral, angst, language, 18+

Length: 4300 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! Adult Education masterlist

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

The next week was one of the best of Jake's life. When he admitted that he didn't like sleeping without his girlfriend, Jessica told him, "Then don't." The midweek sleepovers quickly turned into Jessica having a permanent toothbrush at his place, and Jake having one at hers. When he inevitably ended up washing some of her clothing with his laundry, he didn't mind one bit. He knew there would come a day when he'd be deployed and separated from her, so he absolutely wanted to spend as much time with her as he could right now.

"Baby, you want a bedtime snack?" he asked, and she looked up at him from her seat at his kitchen island.

"Are you referring to yourself?" Her smirk was aimed right at him, and he couldn't help but smile.

"I was actually talking about some fresh fruit and yogurt."

She shook her head and adjusted her glasses as she closed her red notebook. It was the same one she'd had with her the day they met, and now she was pushing it aside to get to him in his kitchen on Thursday night. "I'd rather have you," she whispered as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

He knew she was a little nervous about her tenure review, and all he wanted to do was help her get through this. Maybe keep her mind off of things. But he should have known who was in charge when she started to push him back toward the bedroom. "I don't get a say in the matter?" he asked jokingly as she gave him a soft shove so he was sitting on the end of the bed.

"Not at all," she replied as she leaned down and kissed him. When he tried to wrap his arms around her, she jumped out of his grasp and giggled.

"Come back and let me show you how much I love you." His voice sounded needy, but he didn't care. He needed Jessica, and now she knew it. He'd been telling her nonstop since Saturday.

He tracked her movements as she made her way to his nightstand and opened the drawer. The only things in there were the condoms he bought that they never used, a pair of her crotchless underwear, and a few physics journals. She dipped her hand inside and hid something behind her back before she nudged the drawer closed.

"Will you let me show you why a blowjob from me is the best kind?" she asked softly, and Jake almost laughed out loud. He already knew she was the best in every way.

"Reedy, you've got nothing to prove. That being said... I'm already a little hard just from you mentioning it."

She came to stand between his splayed legs, and he watched her thumb casually through the pages of the journal she removed from behind her back. "You really want it?" she asked. When he nodded vigorously, she said, "I'm going to make you use your brain, Smart Boy. Now get undressed."

Jessica's words of praise washed over him along with the feeling of comfort he knew every time she touched him. Jake stripped off every bit of his clothing and waited patiently. She placed a soft kiss on his forehead before she handed him the journal which was opened up to a page about the environmental impacts of fuel combustion, but he couldn't focus on it.

"Start reading," she commanded, her voice soft yet firm as she pulled her shirt over her head. The sheer champagne colored bra did nothing to hide her furled nipples from him. When she put her hands on her hips and raised one eyebrow, she repeated herself. "Start reading."

Jake grunted and peeled his eyes away from her body and focused on the journal. When he started reading, she pulled her leggings down and stepped out of them. He could see her matching panties hugging her hips before she sank to the floor in front of him. Jake cleared his throat and read, "The combustion of fossil fuels leads to the output of pollutants, causing variation in atmospheric composition." He paused and grunted as she took his cock between her lips and swirled her tongue around his tip in that familiar way that he loved.

Then she stopped, pulled him free and looked up at him. "If you want more, then you have to give me more. Keep reading."

It was a game. The kind of game that was designed specifically for Jake to lose. He throbbed in her hands as she stared up at him with parted lips. He had to force his eyes to focus on the page. "The content of nitrogen oxide and nitrogen dioxide in the air have been studied extensively after newer types of fuel have been developed for military aircrafts."

He drew in a deep breath as she started to bob up and down on his length, her glasses sliding lower on her nose. She sucked hard on him one time before popping him free. "Don't make me repeat myself."

"Oh my god," he groaned, balls tightening in her hand at her stern words. He started reading again, and she started going again. "In lower atmospheric layers, energy from the sun acts as a catalyst in chemical and physical reactions." He kept reading, very slowly, and she kept sucking his cock. Every time he hesitated over a word, she slowed her movements, leaving him twitching in her wet mouth and soft hands until he could gather his focus once more.

Cheeks hollowed out and softly moaning, Jessica sucked on him while he read to her about air pollutants from fuel, but he was barely absorbing a single word he said. The combination of reading to her while she gave him head was something he'd never imagined could be so sexy, and all too soon, Jake's hips were thrusting gently forward as she took him to the edge of orgasm.

When she met his eyes above the rim of her glasses, Jake repeated the same sentence he just read over again. As soon as he tapped the back of her throat, he was panting, and then he came. He tossed the journal on the floor as he begged, although he wasn't sure what for. "Please, Baby. Please."

His hands were in her hair as she drained him, and when he opened his eyes a moment later, he realized he was on his back on the bed with Jessica on top of him. "That was fun," she whispered. "I think you like it when I tell you what to do."

Jake snorted. "Really? I think I love it. Like I love you."

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

When Jessica arrived at work on Friday with a cooler bag filled with the lunch and snacks Jake packed for her, she logged into her email account with a smile on her face. She had a message from Dr. Rosenthal letting her know that he would be spending the weekend reviewing all of the information he had gathered and all of the notes he had taken while sitting in her classes for the past few weeks. He would let her know soon if she was being awarded tenure or not.

Her smile started to fade as nerves rushed in. There was another email from Dean Walters letting her know that the extra work she put in had been much appreciated, and that she only needed to cover Brian's class one more time before he returned to campus. After next week, he would be back from his leave of absence. The peace she felt this whole time he was gone would be taken from her. And if Dr. Rosenthal didn't find her worthy of tenure, Brian would never give her another chance at a review.

She felt sick now. Last night was so much fun. Teasing Jake and getting him all wound up before bedtime still had her smiling this morning. Now she just felt too warm and prickly all over as she gathered the notes she needed to teach. And of course, just because she already felt kind of terrible now, Dr. Rosenthal quietly crept into her class right when she started, giving her a little way. He must have wanted one last chance to see her in action. She tried to smile in his direction before she got started.

Jessica felt like she was on autopilot right now, which was never ideal for a teacher. She made it to lunchtime when she ran back to her office, desperate for some quiet solitude and her homemade lunch. Of course as soon as she poked her fork into the container, there was a knock on her door.

She groaned softly before she called out, "Come in."

Jessica saw the flash of a tie dye lunch box and then her friend was sitting across from her. "You are not going to believe the day I'm having." She was already furiously dipping some carrots into a container of hummus. "I caught a student cheating on an exam. I am so pissed off."

"That's the worst," Jessica groaned, and then she felt a little guilty. "I'm sorry if you're going to be spending all weekend working up my tenure review with Rosenthal."

"We're not supposed to talk about that. And don't be sorry. And anyway, I'm not planning on working the whole weekend... Bradley and I have a trip to the school library planned for Sunday afternoon."

"Oh, is that some sort of romantic date for the two of you?" Jessica asked as she ate her delicious lunch, starting to feel a little better.

Her friend nibbled on her lip and giggled before she bit into a carrot stick. "Something like that." After she finished another carrot stick, she cocked her head to the side. "What's wrong? I thought you'd still be ecstatic today. Apparently Jake can't stop talking about the fact that you told him you love him back. Bradley said he couldn't shut up about it at work on Monday."

Jessica flushed with embarrassed excitement; she hadn't even mentioned it to anyone else yet, but Jake had? She felt her whole body clench with need for him. "Yeah... he said it at the Hard Deck. On his birthday," she whispered. "And of course I love him. What's not to love? I mean, other than the unfortunate time he called you Dr. Tits."

"At least he got the honorific correct," she mumbled. "Then why do you look miserable?"

There was no point in beating around the bush with this woman. "I'm nervous all over again now. Rosenthal sat in my class earlier, and it threw me. I honestly don't know if I'm good enough. And Brian is coming back after next week." She took a deep breath before she blurted out, "I was hoping and praying that somehow he wouldn't return. That something would prevent it from happening, because I don't want to see him at all."

She was met with a long stretch of silence as the other woman nodded, and it felt like her words were still echoing around the tiny office. Eventually the other woman said, "I know he's returning in a week. I also know that Dr. Rosenthal will have a decision about your tenure before then, because I explicitly asked him to finalize it before the month ends. And... I have to attend a meeting next week in regards to Brian."

"A meeting?" Jessica asked as tears burned her eyes. "About what?"

"I'm not sure yet. But I'll let you know when I can."

Jessica nodded, feeling even more uncertain, but she whispered, "Thanks for having my back."

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

Ten minutes with Jessica, and Jake knew something was wrong. He drove to her place to spend the night on Friday, and one thing he wanted to mention was his idea of her moving into his condo with him. He had no idea when her rental lease was ending, but he thought it was worth mentioning now, even if it didn't happen for a while. He thought better than to bring it up as soon as she started giving him one word answers.

"Hey," he whispered as she stood in front of her refrigerator looking for something he could make for dinner. He carefully closed the door and spun her around to face him. "I know something's bothering you. I can tell." He stroked her cheek and tipped her face up so she was looking at him. "Why don't you get it off your chest and let me try to make you feel better?"

She nodded gently and said, "Brian is coming back in a few days. And I'll know about my tenure review decision next week."

"Right," Jake said slowly as he wrapped his hand around her waist. "We knew both of those things were going to be happening though?" He was still a little confused as to why she looked like she was going to cry.

"Yes," she replied as she squeezed her eyes closed. "But everything has been so good the past few weeks. I haven't felt like I'm slowly suffocating at work anymore. I have all the graduating chemistry majors bringing their grades up, because teaching the senior studies class is actually really fun. And... you told me you love me. And Brian is going to come in and ruin everything, especially if Rosenthal doesn't think I'm good enough."

She was sobbing as Jake collected her against his chest. "You're a really good teacher, Reedy," he whispered. "You are the reason all those students have higher grades now. And you told me yourself that Dr. Rosenthal is very smart, so just give him a chance to show you that he's also very fair. And as for Brian? That asshole can just fuck off. He's not going to mess with you anymore, and if he tries to, I'll be there in his face in an instant, and I can guarantee he'll back off."

She nodded, and her glasses dug into his chest as he kissed her head. Jake wasn't going to let Brian near her if he had anything to say about it. Part of him had been hoping he'd just resign instead of returning to work, but no such luck.

"I love you, Jessica," he whispered as she took a few deep breaths. "And I really don't think Brian is dumb enough to give you a hard time again. But if he does, I'll break his nose every week if that's what you want me to do." That made her laugh in his arms, so he kissed the top of her head again and said, "As soon as you say it looks like it healed, I'll stop by and punch him again."

She was laughing and looking up at him as she wiped her tears away. "Maybe every time you stop by for my office hours, you can just punch him."

"I'll add a recurring notification to my phone calendar." She kissed his cheek as he said, "Why don't you get changed out of your work clothes, and I'll take you out for dinner."

The loud growl from Jake's stomach might have been the reason she agreed to his plan. "Where are we going?"

"Anywhere you want. If you come out of the bedroom wearing a dress, I'll take you somewhere nice. If you come out wearing jeans, we can go get burgers or tacos by the beach. And if you put on leggings and one of the shirts you stole from my dresser, I'll order some takeout, and we can drive to pick it up together."

Jake ended up at the burger shack, sitting at a lopsided table on the back deck while the last glimpse of orange sunlight vanished on the horizon. Jessica was so close to him, she was practically sitting on his lap, and they were sharing French fries and an enormous chocolate shake. "You feel a little better?" he asked as he kissed her ear.

"I do. You're so sweet, you always make me feel better," she replied, dipping a fry in some ketchup. "But I like it more when you cook dinner."

Jake groaned. This woman thought he was smart, sweet and interesting, and she liked the food he made. She liked being with him. She even loved him. "I'm going to mention something. Just really quickly. And we don't actually have to discuss it right now since there's a lot going on this week. But I just thought that maybe soon or maybe in a few months or next year.... you might move into my condo with me?"

She smiled at him, rerouting the French fry to his mouth instead of her own. "Are you saying you don't want me to renew my lease when it ends in two months?"

He quickly chewed the fry before wrapping her in his arms. "Please don't renew it, Baby. I really don't want you to."

"Okay. I won't." She laughed as he smothered her face in kisses.

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

The weekend was of course perfect. Jessica woke up to the sight of Jake's handsome face and messy hair bathed in sunlight in her bed two days in a row. They slept in, they made love, they went to see a movie, and Jake made every meal with just the slightest bit of help from her.

"I need my assistant," he called as he prepared pancake batter at lunchtime on Sunday after taking her grocery shopping.

She groaned as she poured two more mugs of coffee. "But I'm barely even any help to you at all."

"But I like it when you're with me."

"Yeah... I'm not going to argue with that," she said, tucking herself in front of Jake and helping him scoop the batter and pour it into the hot pan. She smiled at the pancake as it started to cook. "What are you making for my lunches this week?"

He kissed her shoulder. "Lasagna and garlic bread. Can't wait for two months from now when we can combine all of our grocery shopping. But I just realized one more thing we need to do before then... right when your semester ends."

"What's that?" she asked as they flipped the pancake together.

"Gotta fly to Massachusetts and meet your family, and then I'll take you to Texas so my mom and dad can meet you. That'll be a first for them," he said with a laugh. "Might shock them to death."

"Why?" she asked as butterflies erupted in her tummy. She wanted him to say it. She desperately wanted him to say it.

"I've never had someone I wanted them to meet before."

Jake ended up eating that very burnt pancake after Jessica spun in his arms and kissed him until they were both breathless. Eventually he made the lasagna for her, and she portioned it into her lunch containers while Jake looked at different flights for the week she would have off after she submitted final grades for the semester.

On Tuesday afternoon, she was still thinking about the sincere look on his face when he told her he'd try to get that week off too. Jake made her feel better about everything that was happening. It was almost time for her office hours, and she expected to see Luca at some point. He was doing really well in her class now, and as long as he kept coming back for more practice problems, she would keep making them up for him.

When she heard a tap on her door, she called out, "Come in!" But instead of Luca and his skateboard, her heart started pounding double time when she saw who was there. She was on her feet immediately. "Dr. Rosenthal."

"Dr. Reed," he mumbled, juggling a binder and some folders as he closed the door behind him.

He wasn't really meeting her eyes, and she swallowed hard as she said, "Have a seat." The words came out as barely a squeak, and she realized her hands were shaking a bit as she dropped back into her chair as well.

He was shuffling papers around and trying to dig a pen out of his shirt pocket. "I have frankly a whole bunch of papers for you to sign here. I just need to sign a few of them myself first." Then he looked up at her and chuckled. "Did you have a chance to read the science joke of that day that I emailed to you earlier?" he asked.

Jessica nodded, wishing he'd just get on with why exactly he was here. "The one about the Roman numerals and the gladiators? Yes. It was very good."

He was still chuckling to himself when he laid out a stack of papers on her desk in front of her. "Okay, go ahead and sign all of these, and make sure you date them as well. I would have brought them in earlier, but the copier was jammed again." He set his fountain pen down after he uncapped it, and Jessica just stared at him.

"What's going on here exactly?" she asked, finally sliding the first page a little closer to her.

He looked at her in surprise. "Why, it's your formal paperwork, of course. For your tenure."

She squeezed her hands into fists, pressing her nails into her palms as she started sweating. "My tenure?" she whispered, too afraid to say anything else until he spoke again.

"Yes," Dr. Rosenthal replied. "The university is awarding you tenure based on my findings. I spoke with Dean Walters earlier today. Were you expecting a different outcome?"

"No," she gasped as tears welled up in her eyes. "No, this is exactly what I was expecting." She struggled to keep her voice under control as she breathed in and out awkwardly and picked up his pen. "Thank you for taking the time to do my review."

He flapped his hand casually in the air as if he wasn't aware that he'd just made her whole existence vastly better. "Oh no, don't thank me. It's all just part of the job. Happy to do it."

She shook with silent tears as she skimmed the paperwork and signed her name over and over again. She even saw Advanced Calculus' signature on a few lines. Each time she looked up at Dr. Rosenthal through her watery smile, he was just sitting there calmly, and Jessica wondered if anyone else ever cried when he told them they got tenure.

On the last page was the certification that had been signed by Dean Walters, and Jessica smiled when Rosenthal said, "That's the page you're going to want to frame and hang up there next to your diplomas."

She had to fight the urge to hug him when she stood to shake his hand. "Thank you again."

He just shrugged it off once again. "You have a very good friend in the math department. Well, I suppose two, if you include me. Don't forget to schedule a meeting with Dean Walters, because you'll need to return some of that paperwork to him. I just wanted you to have it in writing as soon as possible."

"Okay," she said with as steady a voice as she could muster. And then she was opening the door for him to go.

In the silence of her office, Jessica dropped back down into her desk chair and sobbed. She took her glasses off and pressed her hands to her face as her whole body shook in relief at finally getting what she knew she deserved all along. She could finally look to the future knowing that even if Brian Conley didn't want her at this school, there were other faculty members who recognized her worth.

"Oh my god," she moaned to herself as she wiped at her tears in vain as they just kept coming. She felt inexplicably weightless, like years of pressure just suddenly ceased to exist. Her breathing started to even out, and then she laughed before she started crying all over again.

There was a firm knock on her door, and she had to pat around her desk for her glasses as she stood. If it was Luca, she would just excuse herself to the restroom and then come back to help him. When she opened the door, Jake's green eyes were immediately alert and upset.

"What happened?" he barked, reaching for her with the hand that wasn't holding a snack container. "Is Brian back already?"

And then she was crying again. "No," she sobbed against his uniform shirt, smearing her glasses in the process. "Oh my god, Jake," she wailed and he dropped the container on her desk to take her face in both of his big hands. He looked like he was on the verge of panicking when she reached for the certification page and held it up for him. "I got tenure." He made a loud noise, and he hoisted her in the air as she clung onto the sheet of paper and his shoulder. "Dr. Rosenthal just told me. I just signed all the paperwork."

She was crying so hard, she was shaking again, and when her feet finally met the ground, Jake's lips were on hers. "I'm so proud of you," he said between kisses. "So fucking proud of you. I love you so much."

She laughed and cried and held onto him as he murmured the sweetest things in her ear while she traced his name tag with her fingers. Then he brought her hand up to his lips and kissed her knuckles as she smiled at him.

"Let's go pick up some champagne and celebrate."

But there was a third knock on the door, and this time, Jessica could hear Luca kick and flip his skateboard into his hands. "I have to finish my office hours first."

Jake grinned and kissed her forehead. "Of course you do. You're such a good teacher."

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

Masterful, Jessica. It should have been yours all along. You got your tenure, and you got the guy.... what are you going to do next? Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 21

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ilovetopgunsstuff · 1 month

Text

night shift

bradley bradshaw x reader

prompt- training for the mission is underway, and y/n has slept in bradley bradshaw's bed for more nights than she'd like to admit. when rooster has a bad dream next to her, it gets a little more personal than no strings attached should get

warnings- angst, cursing, ptsd mentioned, sex mentioned, not exactly smut

An: may be some typos, please give feedback and don't be afraid to request!

Y/n stared at the ceiling, enjoying bradley's arm wrapped tightly around her middle before they had to go back to pretending theyre just friendly collleagues during the work day.

She hadn't meant to have anything start between the two of them, but a drunken night at The Hard Deck changed that a few weeks ago. Rooster smelled good that day, tan and sculpted by the sun. Maybe his tank top was a little too tight, Hawaiian shirt a little too flowy. She had always thought he was attractive, but the alcohol really brought it out of her. They had been talking all night, rooster bought Y/n a drink. She cracked a tipsy joke and a lopsided smirk grew on his pretty face as he looked at her, head tilted. That's when she knew it was over for her.

Y/n thought she was in the clear when they all left the bar. She just had to go grab her charger from inside his house. Then he asked if you wanted water to sober up before driving home. Harmless. Then you couldn't reach the cup in his cabinet to get said water. Then he came up behind you to grab it for you, brushing against you slightly as he mumbled a "sorry" under his breath right beside you, almost touching your ear. It was then that your last shred of self-control somehow diminished, landing you right into his bed for the night.

It's been a few weeks since then, and you keep ending up here. It was supposed to just be friends with benefits, no strings attached. But sometimes it wasn't, even though neither of you would admit it. The way he splayed his massive hands across your stomach as he fucked you, gently pushing down so it'd feel better for you. The way that he would trace across your skin with his finger until you fell asleep, whispering praises in your ear, telling you how good you did. It was when he thought you fell asleep that he went to take a shower, kissing you on the forehead while running his thumb gently across your cheek. The two of you never really discussed what you were, you just were. These nights seemed to be doing more harm than good for you. It was hard to stay detached from something like this, spending your nights with someone so often. He didn’t feel like you did, you were sure, so you’d settle. You would take the nights over nothing, but that didn’t mean it didn’t sting during the day.

The glow of Bradley’s alarm clock read 1:34 AM. His room was nicer than you’d expect. More than two pillows on the bed, light blue sheets, ivory paint on the walls. Your favorite part though, was the decor that made Rooster who he was, the decor that nobody else on the team had probably ever seen. Old baseball photos, pictures of his graduating class, polaroids of the beach, of his bronco. It made the room feel warm.

Now here you were, trying to soak it all in before it was a secret again. He hadn’t taken a shower tonight, and wore only boxers next to you. He had fallen asleep on top of you, holding you tight, though he had since rolled over to beside you. He looked so peaceful sleeping, his face void of the serious expression he usually took on. You were laying pressed against him, his arm around your middle holding you in place. You had pulled on some clothes since the hookup, and you now donned one of Rooster’s big t-shirts and your underwear. All your other clothes were trailed around his house somewhere. All you could hear was the combination of your breaths in the late night, and you began to doze off again.

Then his breath hitched. His arm snaked away from you as he shifted in his bed. His breathing became more rapid, and a sheen of sweat show on his forehead. His dog tag glistened in the night as they jingled across his bare chest. He was having a bad dream.

This was normal for the military. Bad, traumatic memories linger in the back of your head. It hits you when you least expect it. It even taints your dreams. Everything you refuse to remember when conscious comes to haunt you at night. You have it too, and seeing him like this made your chest ache. He was mumbling now.

“No no no,” he mumbled. You sat up. He had his jaw clenched; his whole body was tense as he continued mumbling. The breathing didn’t slow.

“Rooster,” you said out loud, putting your hand gently on his and squeezing. “Rooster,” you said again, louder.

He stayed dreaming.

“Bradley.” You spoke loud enough but gentle. It was hard coming out of these dreams.

He drew a sharp breath in and sat up, muscles rippling across his back and stomach as he moved. He used the heels of his hands to rub his eyes as he seemed to catch his breath. Your hand hadn’t left his.

“It’s okay, It’s okay. You were just dreaming,” you say as he tries to get his bearings. You push his hair out of his eyes. It’s messy from sleeping. Still holding his hand, the rapid beating of a pulse can be felt coming from his wrist.

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath. The covers were pooled at his waist and he looked up at you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for- I don’t-“

“Don’t apologize. Here,” you handed him your water from his bedside table. In a quieter voice, you say, “You’re not the only one it happens to. I usually wake up a lot less graceful than you.” You try to let out a small laugh, more nervous than amused, but it wasn’t really funny. Many times have you woken up, tangled in the sheets alone, struggling to get away from something that’s not even there. It’s PTSD, and the military can only do so much to help. The damage is already done, the memories already happened. He looked at you, watching everything you did. He looked exhausted, even though he’d been sleeping. Drained.

“Thank you,” he whispered, like he didn’t want to disturb any more peace. “Did I wake you up?”

“No.” You didn’t really have any explanation other than that. Oh I was staying awake to remember your touch so I miss it less during the day. Yeah, like that would’ve gone over smooth.

He nodded. “That’s good,” he said. He ran his hand through his hair, the other that you’re holding still limp in the bed. You (tried to) smoothly let his hand go and put your hand back in your lap. You wanted to do something for him, to help, but thats not what you were here for. It wasn’t your place. You were just a girl in his bed to him. Your hands itched to run through his hair, across his skin, but you couldn’t. “I’m probably gonna go take a shower,” he said.

And off he goes again, didn’t even wait for you to fall asleep this time. You nodded, suppressing the sigh that wanted to erupt out of your chest.

He gets up, kicking the covers off. He stood in the middle of the hard wood floor of his bedroom, boxers only. The only light was from the moon and the glow of his alarm clock. His muscular silhouette walked towards the bathroom, then faltered, seemingly looking back.

“Oh. Are you not- uh…” he trails off in the dark. Did he want you to come?

“Oh…I didn’t know I was allowed to.”

You couldn’t see him, but heard a low chuckle in the dark. “..allowed to?”

“Oh shut up,” you said as you rolled out of bed, but you couldn’t help but smirk a bit. You squinted as he flipped on the lights to the bathroom, not bothering to close the door since you were both in there. You took a chance and looked in the mirror. Your hair was wild, with your mascara running down your face in faint lines. What a charmer.

Bradley had his back turned, turning the shower on. He turned, thumbing the waistband of his boxers to take off. You began to strip as well, and all of a sudden felt shy. He did this to you all the time, but doing it yourself while he watched made your cheeks tinge pink. The overhead light reflecting off the white tile walls didn’t help either. You slid your panties off easily and they dropped to the floor. Then the shirt.

He pulled you by the hand, and you both stepped under the hot water.

Once again, he met your gaze. He was being so quiet.

“What are you looking at?” He tilts his head at you with a slight smirk, his eyes still seemed tired.

“Just…you.” You’re guessing that you’re not hiding your worried expression very well. Your eyes flicked downward and you bit your lip.

“I’ve still got a pulse, you know, darlin’. I’m gonna live.”

“I know,” you mumbled, shy. You held one of his hands in yours, keeping from looking at him as you trace over his palm. “I was just…”

“Nervous?” he asked quietly.

“Mmhm,” you hummed. He took your hand that held his and pulled you towards him. The rush and warmth of the water relaxed you slightly. He pulled you close to wrap his arms around your waist. You didn’t know what to do with yourself. This is the most personal you’ve ever gotten. This pained you; somehow being closer to him made it hurt worse, being seen as just a hookup. You would’ve been better off without any of this, any of him, but you weren’t without him. You were right here, undressed in front of him night after night like clockwork, like having a night shift. You almost groaned out loud.

“You gonna be stiff as a board this whole time or…” There he was teasing you again.

“Sorry.” You were flustered, and exhausted, not because it was one something in the morning, but exhausted mentally. Who knew no strings attached was so much work? Well, it is when one of you is attached, you guessed.

You let out a sigh, tiredly resting your chin on his tanned, warm shoulder. He tightened his arms around you, his chin in the crook of your neck.

“Don’t apologize,” he murmured. His mustache and breath tickled your neck, causing you to shiver, and you began to melt all over again. “I don’t want you to be jumpy around me now. I didn’t scare you off did I?”

You picked your head up, moving back slightly to look at him. He has the hint of a smile on his face, but his eyes are serious. You let out a breathy laugh, releasing some tension. “No you didn’t scare me off. Still here.”

He smiled, an especially knee-buckling smile, and he pulled you close again. “Good,” he murmured. “I’d be lonesome if I did.”

You sighed, and a small, shy smile crept onto your face as you rested and leaned against him. “I think you’d find yourself more company in no time.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he laughed out his words. You just hummed in response.

“I’ll have you know I’m a gentleman.”

“Mmhmm.”

He squeezed your hips playfully. “I cant believe you,” he whispered in your ear, as all space previously between you two went elsewhere.

The night shift would do.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw #hangman x reader #top gun fanfiction #fanfic #jake seresin #miles teller #pete maverick mitchell

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thelov3lybookworm · 8 months

Text

I Didn't Ask For This (part seven)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Summary: Marriage had always been something sacred to little Y/n, something dream like, where her husband would come and whisk her away to a fairyland. At least, that's what she had always thought.

All her dreams would be shattered.

But maybe she can salvage them?

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Tw: forced marriage, none more that I can think of, so let me know if I need to add anything.

A/n: Thanks to all the anons who gave me ideas for this! I love you all soo much. Also, the dress is not too scandalous (because girlie would have a heart attack if it were) but enough to make him drool😉

And, also, this one is mostly Nesta and reader's friendship and fluff, but there will be an angsty part soon where babygirl slaps babyboi so bear with me.

Edit: Okay yall, the thing I wrote above? It was before I started writing, and now, let me tell you, there is some angst and sadness too, near the end. I was actually planning for the parts from now on to be mostly fluffy, but this new story line is pretty good too, and filled with angst 😌 and who doesn't love some angst?

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Y/n sat calmly on Nesta's bed, sipping tea as Nesta threw her clothes out from her wardrobe, searching for something she deemed suitable for the dinner date Y/n was going on with Azriel.

Y/n was going to wear one of her everyday dresses, but when Nesta was told about the dinner, she started panicking as if Y/n was going to a war.

When Y/n said as much, Nesta had flicked her hair back and said, 'there is not much difference between the two. You always take part in it to win.'

And of course, no one could argue with Nesta, so here they were.

Finally, after what seemed like eternity, Nesta came and plopped down next to Y/n, sighing. Y/n set aside her empty tea cup before turning to her.

"And? Did you find something that suited your preferences?" Nesta shook her head sadly before she sat up, excited once more.

"I can ask Mor for something."

"Nesta–"

Y/n didn't have a chance to speak before Nesta was running out of the room. Y/n shook her head and leaned back against the headboard, thinking of what would happen at the dinner.

Soon, Nesta had come back with a black fitted dress. It would have been okay if not for the thin straps that were holding it up and the neckline that concealed nothing.

"You want me to wear that? No. Not happening."

"Come on! It's a beautiful dress! Just for tonight. I won't force you to wear anything again."

Y/n contemplated for a moment before shrugging and taking the dress. When she had changed into it, Nesta forced her to sit in front of the vanity and started doing her hair. It was so elaborate that with every passing moment, Y/n's fear of whether she'd be able to undo it herself increased.

Only time would tell.

•○🌑○•

"Okay, so let's go over this again. If he tries to do something you don't like, what will you do?" Nesta stood next to Y/n, ticking things off on her fingers. She'd been at it long enough that Y/n wondered if she should just go to sleep and cancel the dinner with her husband.

"Nesta! We've been doing this for the past couple of hours! I get what you're trying to say!" When Nesta just stared at her, Y/n sighed. "I tell him I don't like it?"

"No! See, you say you understand what I'm saying, then get all the wrong answers!"

"Then what is the correct answer?"

"You kick him between the legs and run away–"

"Nesta, no–"

"Nesta yes. That's what you will do. Understand?" When Y/n nodded exasperatedly, Nesta continued. "Let's go over this again because you don't pay attention to me. Okay, so–"

Footsteps sounded and Azriel appeared. And, even though Y/n wasn't really excited or interested in going out with him, she still sent out a prayer of thanks to the Nother. Because the longer he took to come, the longer Nesta would go on and on about the subtle art of kicking males.

He suddenly stopped short, his eyes surveying Y/n from head to toe. His lips parted as he slowly looked up into her eyes. His pupils were blown wide, his neck and face flushed. He held a bouquet of flowers in his slack hand. He was wearing a finely tailored suit, which fit him in all the perfect ways, showing off his powerful and beautiful body.

Nesta suddenly snapped her fingers, effectively bringing out the couple from the daze they had been in.

Y/n looked away, blushing, as Azriel cleared his throat. He extended the bouquet to his wife, his face becoming redder as she took it. "For y–" He began, but Nesta cut him off.

"She knows it's for her, obviously."

Azriel blinked, taken aback, before nodding. "I think it'd be best if you–"

"You want me to keep that in your room? I doubt you'd be able to do much with those flowers in your hand." Nesta cut in again, not bothering to hide her glee. Y/n nodded slowly, her eyes jumping between the two in front of her as Nesta took the flowers from her. Azriel stared at a spot behind Y/n, his jaw hard.

"I think we should get–" As he began, Nesta spoke up again, to no ones surprise.

"It's getting late. You should leave–"

"Nesta." Azriel said in a dangerously soft voice, a muscle ticking in his jaw. "Don't you have something to do other than talk about kicking a male and interrupting people when they talk?"

Nesta stared at him, indifferent, her eyebrows raised. Y/n looked away, hiding her small smile behind her hand as she pretended to facepalm.

Finally, after the battle Azriel was engaged in ended–thank the cauldron– he stepped forward and held out his hands. Behind him, Y/n saw Nesta wink at her with a mischievous grin. Y/n smiled back, shaking her head an she took Azriel's hand and he pulled her closer.

They took off into the night air, his hands clutching her tight. The flight to the place he had decided was quiet.

As soon as they landed, he offered her his arm, which she eyed suspiciously before turning away. She could practically feel his embarrassment, self consciousness and awkwardness as he lowered the arm and led her to a table in the back.

From the looks of it, this place was expensive. From the numerous chandeliers and the seating to the cutlery and the finest details on the walls and the designs and the architecture, everything screamed expensive.

He pulled out a seat for her, but she walked to the other one and sat herself down. His face was red a he sat down opposite her. As they ordered their food, Azriel asked the waiter to not use peas as Y/n wasn't really fond of peas.

Y/n's eyes were slightly wide as she regarded Azriel. How did he know? When she said as much, he smiled and explained, "I remember you used to complain about how much you despised peas."

"My preferences could have changed." She pointed out.

His smile faltered. "I'm so sorry, I just assumed–"

"It's okay." She cut him off. "I still don't like them."

The dinner was mostly silent despite Azriel's continuous efforts. Whenever he said something, she just hummed or nodded. When he asked her something, she gave short one word answers.

She didn't want to talk to him, and even though she had agreed to have dinner with him, there had been no promises about talking to him. So she stayed quiet, focusing on the food and occasionally finding him staring at her outfit, his lips parted or him biting them. When he realised he was caught, he would return to his food, his face redder than before.

And, despite her initial resentment of the dress she was wearing, she didn't regret wearing it, if it meant she would get to see this flustered side of him.

Soon, they were done and leaving the restraunt when he spoke up.

"Would you like to take a walk and explore Velaris?" From the look in his eyes, he expected her to say yes. And she would've if she didn't hate him. But she did, and so she wanted to spend minimal time with him.

"No. I would like to go home."

"Oh– okay." He looked away for a moment before picking her up and leaping onto the air. While the ride to the restraunt has been comfortable, the ride back was anything but. It was so tense that a blunt knife could have cut through it.

When they landed on the balcony, she turned to walk away. The tension finally exploded. Or Azriel did. Same thing.

He caught her wrist and tugged her to him, her back against his front as his arm wrapped around her, just below her chest.

"What's the matter with you?" He murmured in her ear, his hot breath washing over her face.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She grunted, trying to get free.

"Is it Nesta? Did she tell you to ignore me?"

"Obviously not. Why would she–"

"Then why? Why have you been so cold towards me? Can't you see I'm trying to make this work? You're making it difficult to–"

"I'm just doing what we agreed to. You wanted to have dinner with me, I did. There was no mention of talking to you."

Finally, she managed to free herself from his suddenly slack hold, and when she turned to him, her chest heaving, she found him gaping at her.

"Are you serious?" He whispered, emotions swirling in his beautiful eyes.

Y/n looked away, knowing she was hurting him. But she couldn't help it. She couldn't hand her heart over so easily, knowing if she did, he would have the power over her, and she couldn't let anyone have that power, not so soon after having her first taste of freedom.

He started laughing, her head whipping to him. He took a step back, then another, turning as silver lined his eyes. He leaned on his palms that rested on the railings, shaking his head, grinning like a maniac. He was quiet for a few moments.

"If you don't want to give me a chance, then just say so. I'll leave you alone. Don't need to pretend–"

"I wasn't–"

"Don't. Fucking don't. I get it. You don't want to be with me. You don't even want to try. Just say the words and I'll leave you alone. Don't need to toy with my heart."

"And what of my heart, Azriel? What if you break my heart?"

"I won't! Why do you think everyone, I, have an obsession with breaking your heart? Why–"

"Because you have done it before Azriel! And I don't think I could handle another heartbreak–"

He whipped around, stepping into her, making her crane her head back to look at him. His head was bent to look at her, their noses nearly touching. "I apologised for that already! And I'm trying to right the wrongs! What else do I need to do to gain your trust? Will hurting me help? You know what? Here." He pulled out the only dagger that he had on him and wrapped her hand around the hilt. She tried to pull away, her eyes wide and her heart beating loudly. But his hold was firm as he put the dagger to his chest, his eyes blazing.

"Stab me. Hurt me. Kill me if that's what it takes for you to–" He didn't finish the sentence, his chest heaving. "Do it." She shook her head, her eyes prickling. He huffed and turned away again, leaning on the railing. "Leave, Y/n. And don't worry, I won't bother you again."

Y/n's chest caved at the emotion in his voice, which shook and broke on the last part. She didn't mean to hurt him, and she knew she should clarify why she couldn't trust him.

Her hand rose, shaking.

But just before she could place it on his tense shoulder, she stopped. Would it help? If she told him the reason, would it mend the wounds she had unknowingly inflicted? She didn't think it would.

So she curled her hand into a fist and let it drop back to her side, stepping back and turning away. She needed some time alone, both of them did. She'd talk to him tomorrow.

And as she walked away, she let the tears slip from her eyes.

But she didn't know that behind her, her husband also let the tears flow, his heart aching.

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Taglist: @bubybubsters @maxxieluvs @bubbbllee @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @waytoomanyteenagefeels @tell-me-a-poem @the-lake-is-calling @spaxxxi @japanese-wonderland-blog @valeridarkness @moonlwghts @deadratio @esposadomd @harrystylesfan2686 @missusbarnes-rogers @whatthefuckshappeningrn @hyacinthoideshispanica @historygeekqueen @lizziesfirstwife @nastynesta @aroseinvelaris @nightless @cleverzonkwombatsludge @kodokunarisu-blog @selillusion @eos-princess @moonfawnx @a-court-of-milkandhoney @emilyo-218 @wannabewolf @ailyr92 @chronically-online-cheese @myheartfollower @hells-sluttiest-new-arrival @marina468 @menaosama @starryhiraeth @hereticdance @mali22 @valencia-rou @azrielsstarlight @marvelouslovely-barnes @luvmoo @starlight-hope @a-frog-with-a-laptop @fall-myriad @alt-ghost @elleofdragons @ruleroftides @5moremin @stargirl1714

Part 8

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blakeswritingimagines · 8 months

Text

sitting in their lap

Aegon: He is pleased that you are showing affection towards him by sitting down on his lap. He would likely put his arms around you and hold you close, maybe even kiss you. He would also take note of how you were dressed, if you are wearing something revealing then he might even try to peek down your clothes.

Aemond: If you seated yourself upon his lap, it would no doubt bring forth a sense of warmth within his heart. The feeling of your weight, of your closeness, would bring him immeasurable joy. And as you shifted about on his lap, he would not hesitate to take an opportunity to wrap his arms around you, to bury his face into the crook of your neck, to nuzzle your cheek and nibble your ear.

Jacaerys: "Ahem." He cleared his throat, feeling the weight of you on his lap. Slowly, he'd wrap his arms around your waist and pull you closer. His eyes linger on your face, a small smile creeping up his lips. He can't help the wave of affection that ripples through him. After all, he'd been longing for your touch.

Lucerys: His reaction to you sitting in his lap would depend greatly on the context of the situation and your level of commitment to each other. In general, he would welcome the physical closeness and intimacy, and be open to any type of affectionate physical interaction that you desire. However, if he felt that the intention of you sitting in his lap was more about control and dominance rather than love and affection, then he would likely respond in a more reserved and guarded manner. Overall, he would aim to communicate clearly with you and be receptive to whatever feelings you might be expressing through your actions.

Rhaenyra: In truth, she finds it quite pleasant. She enjoys the warmth of the contact, as it makes her feel connected to you. There is also something intoxicating about feeling the weight of her partner in her lap. The feeling of your curves against her is exhilarating. She has also quite enjoyed having her lap used as a pillow by you after a long day.

Daemon: To set the scene, he would find it most stimulating if his partner were of his choosing, preferably a beautiful person such as yourself. If you were to sit on his lap, he would gently caress your hips and thighs while his other hand found its way to somewhere more private.

Alicent: A surprise to be sure. A welcome one. A fine way to pass to the afternoon, mayhaps with you leaning back against her. And she does hope you don't get up anytime soon so that she might have the opportunity to nibble your neck and plant a few light kisses on your soft skin.

Helena: She'd be shocked at first. She's not used to such boldness, as many would be. After a moment to recompose herself, she'd run her hands up your arms and pull you close to her if you were receptive. She'd run her fingers through your hair and give you a long, sweet kiss. Then she'd whisper sweet nothings in your ear.

Harwin: He would react with a small smile and a light chuckle. He would be happy to have you so close to him, and the physical contact would feel like a warm embrace. It would be a small, intimate moment between the two of you, and it would likely be an indication that you feel comfortable and secure with him.

Cregan: With a sly, smug smile, Cregan slowly wraps his muscular arms around your waist, drawing you closer. He'll pull your body tight against his, letting you feel the warmth and subtle power of his body. He'll slowly tilt his head so that your foreheads are touching, looking directly into your eyes with a sly smirk. He'll gently nibble and kiss your neck, while teasingly whispering in his charming voice: "Why so eager, my love?"

#aegon targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #lucerys velaryon x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #alicent hightower x reader #helena targryen x reader #ser harwin x reader #cregan stark x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon headcanon #house of the dragon hc

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0oolookitsme · 2 months

Text

Like Gold Dust

Hii everyone! This one is kind of different than most of my fics. There are lots of descriptions and lesser dialogues and she's an angsty one! Lowkey poetic too, I think? I don't know! You tell me! I hope you enjoy reading <3

Verse - Footballer!Harry x Art Director!Y/n (uni era)

Word Count - 3.1k

Warnings - This fic is about Harry dealing with Seasonal Depression and he doesn't deal with it in this fic very healthily. So, if that, in any way, seems like it might be triggering for you or you don't wanna read about it, I totally understand! Close this fic and take care of yourself, I'll see you in the next upload! Sending love <3 (Also, there's miscommunication as well because of course, they are in uni!)

Winter has come knocking the wind out of Harry's lungs, and happiness has begun feeling like gold dust to him -- everybody seems to be chasing after it, but rarely catches it. But while Harry deals with the harshest Winter he's ever had, Y/n seems to have begun hating her favourite season.

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With her head lowered defeatedly, Y/n slapped on the door with her palm for the fifth time. "Harry," she exhaled a breath that she had held hostage in her lungs so that she wouldn’t miss his reply. "I know you're in there ...let me in, please," her voice went meek towards the end, eyes moistening making her screw them shut, tighly.

She let her head rest on the door, sniffling a few times when she feels the sudden tiredness overtake her senses once again.

Maybe he's asleep, she thinks to herself just to get herself moving. Nodding at her own thought, she fisted the hand that was still pressed against the cold shut door and put it back in the warmth of her coat’s pocket.

This was nothing new. Every morning she'd come to his dorm, knock and knock and knock, and get teary eyed when he wouldn't open up. She'd catch him on the campus sometimes, walking in the same clothes she'd been seeing him in since the past three days, his head low and eyes avoiding any and every gaze.

"Harry!" She'd call after him and run up to match her steps with his. "I went to your dorm; thought you were sleeping but here you are!" Halting in her place she'd exclaim. Then, she'd mumble sadly -- "looking all pretty," running a little because he hadn't stopped with her.

She'd walk with him quietly then, cautiously weaving her fingers through his rough ones. He'd squeeze her hand three times in return and hold on tightly until they'd reach the point where they needed to part ways for their classes.

Truth be told, those little encounters seemed to be the only thin thread she was hanging by. His simple touches, holds, and cold lips pressed against her forehead. It made her believe that he didn’t entirely hate her, that she wasn’t as useless as she felt.

Y/n felt like she was lacking somewhere. That she should be the one he should be talking to in moments like these, that she should be the sole source of comfort he had but it seemed like he kept his distance from her as much as he could. And that made her feel like maybe she wasn’t his favourtie person, after all.

She knew that it wasn’t the truth in her heart. That Harry did still love her, and found his safe haven in her – the smallest actions he made were assuring …but they weren’t enough to prevent Y/n’s opposing, combatant mind from exceeding its thinking capacity.

Every night she found herself doubting herself – her capacity to love, especially. Was her love not enough for the both of them to sail a little longer? At Least until Spring came and Harry’s sunflower plant became full of life again?

She feared that their relationship was withering away, just like his sunflower, and she was sat in his room on his window sill with the plant in her lap, frantically giving it sunlight and air and water and better soil but it just won’t stop shrinking in size and fading in colour.

Doing everything she could, still Y/n was always feeling helpless and in despair. It was like she was screaming but Harry wasn’t listening…whether intentionally or not because, from Harry’s point of view, no sound seemed to be coming out of her scream – maybe because he was under water.

"I'll see you soon," she'd tell him and get up on her tiptoes to hug him close to herself, pressing a kiss on his unshaved cheek. And with that, she'd walk away, her hand a lingering touch until she had walked far enough, and she, yet again, proved to be insufficient and not enough.

Walking against the brittle wind, she caught sight of the on-campus cafe. Walking inside, she looked up at the jingling bells above the door and smiled. She’d been coming here for so many months and yet she looked up at the source of the chime every time she walked in – for coffee, mainly, and for some warm shelter, secretly.

"A medium coffee please," she told the barista, who also happened to be a good friend. The cafe was opened by some of the college students, for the college students. It was nothing fancy but did its job remarkably well.

No one was speaking this early in the morning. Everyone was bundled up in any corner that they could seek, and Y/n looked around in hopes that maybe the footsteps she'd heard inside Harry's dorm weren't actual and that she might catch him cozied up here, instead. Because sometimes they'd bump into each other here or at the library, and that would bring her the peace that she was feeling rarely this Winter – which came as a shock to the system because she didn’t nearly love any season as much as she did Winter.

But alas, it was only a hope after all.

"Can I get a refill, please?" Someone asked, slightly embarrassed as the peeked from behind their laptop screen. Standing in front of Y/n, the barista – Kate – agreed to the request with a warm smile.

It was brighter than usual today, Harry had noticed. The sunlight pouring in through his open window laid right on his bed and if he wasn’t already feeling brighter today, which is the reason why he is standing fresh out of his bathroom and rubbing his towel against his head with another one wrapped low on his hips, his mood just felt as if it had bubbled up so high that he couldn’t handle it all by himself.

The flimsy curtains were still drawn in front of his windows, as he quickly changed. Even though he hated dressing up before his skin had fully dried. Unconsciously, he began humming a song and when he realized that while brushing his hair, he felt as if he had caught himself off guard.

Happiness had begun to feel like it was like gold dust, to Harry. He’d suddenly become very aware of how difficult it was to obtain, how everyone wanted it and it was almost as if it had grown out of his comfort zone.

He wasn't excited about the winter, not that he ever was. But he was depressed. Harry avoided his own gaze in the mirror then. He hadn’t said anything to himself other than a broken sob in weeks, so to find himself humming a song felt surreal.

Throwing some things in his backpack, he swung it over his shoulders. He didn’t have anything on his feet, he realized and sprawled on the floor to look under his bed for the socks he was sure he had absentmindedly kicked under there.

He took a quick sniff at his socks, deciding that he could go with them this last day. With a few grunts he pulled them up on his feet, sitting on the floor of his dorm room and tying his shoelaces. Y/n had gifted him those among some other things for Christmas, and that thought made him smile as he stared at the Nikes on his feet for little.

A few of his bones popped as he got up, making him groan in satisfaction. Checking if he had his phone and headphones on him, he decided to go and quickly check the scenery outside via his window and see for himself if he should carry an umbrella, which didn’t make any sense because it could begin raining cats and dogs any time where he lived.

That was when he caught sight of snow – falling down in flakes, slowly like feathers. His mouth fell open as he pressed his palms against the cold window glass, looking outside like some eager kid with his nose slightly smushing against it. His gaze wandered and he realized that everyhting was covered in white snow, shimmering beautifully as sunlight fell down.

Suddenly in a much bigger hurry, he swung his backpack on one of his shoulders again, and locked the door once he was on the other side of it.

The temperature inside his dorm room was much colder than the temperature outside, Harry realized, just as he does every other day and proceeded to walk down the hallway with his hands in the pockets of his bright pink hoodie. He’d been thinking all morning that maybe this serotonin release was only for one day, but chose not to dwell over that so he could simply live for at least some hours – for as long as the sun was away from the jail-bars, namely clouds.

But then he realized that it had finally begun snowing, and he felt like no one could take his happiness from him; absolutely no one.

He hated this issue that he had. He’s been suffering with seasonal depression since he was fifteen, he’d guess, and he hadn’t had one winter since that made him happy. Except, of course, the last one, in which he finally had the nerve to kiss Y/n under a mistletoe that had been hanging on the wall indentation that separates the dining area from the kitchen in his home.

And she made the Winter sufferable, if not entirely rainbows and sunshine for him. But it only made Harry hate himself worse – the fact that she adored no season as much as she did the snow one, and yet she was sad all the time during the span of this Winter in particular, because of him.

When Winter was approaching, she had strictly told him to come meet her before he’d leave for practice in the mornings, just so that she could hold him for a little before they’d go in for entirely different classes for the day, because she was aware that one of his love languages was physical touch. She didn’t really have a clue about how harsh this Winter was going to be on them, considering it hadn’t ever been so bad in the years she had known him, even as his best friend.

But he hadn’t been following the one rule she’d made; he was unable to.

He tried to stay away from her, when he realized that. Just so that she wouldn’t have to share all of her love and happiness with him to the level that she was left with nothing but his sadness. It wasn’t making him feel good, it hurt worse than the Winter did – staying away from her. But it was for the better, he’d tell himself over and over again as he would roll his lips in his mouth and shut his eyes tightly when she would come knocking on his dorm room morning and night, voice sounding as if she were on the verge of breaking down and begging him to open up so that she could come in and help him, and herself even.

“This is making me very sad, Harry. This – whatever it is that you’re doing, i – it isn’t making me feel anything but … but sad,” she would utter defeatedly outside his dorm, being ignorant about the strangers that might be hearing her. And, Harry would clench his eyes shut if his mind showed him a sight of her bottom lip trembling with fat tears rolling down her flushed cheeks.

What would matter to anyone hearing her, if Harry wasn’t hearing her? She’d think as she’d knock for the last few times, getting louder and louder.

It made Hary question his decisions, if he was doing the ‘right thing’ after all. But still he would gulp down his cry that threatened to escape his aching throat. He cried, and held himself as his body shook and broke down in sobs, because it felt selfish to have her do it when she could be outside building a snowman.

He was well aware that she was concerned about him, it showed in her actions -- bled through the looks of care she passed him before she had to part from him. And he felt careless, like he wasn’t being responsible and mature enough by simply letting her in but he was. He couldn’t explain as to how or why, but in his head, he knew he was being sensible by not enclosing her in his misery.

Around Y/n he was calmer and more at peace – that was, nowadays, whenever she would catch him sulking on the campus somewhere. Almost all the time he wanted to be coddling her, holding her or being near her -- he knew she’d keep him sane, at the least but still he didn’t go to her. So he managed to comfort himself by the things that reminded him of her.

He felt such geat despair in that moment, when he would be sliding down the wall of his dorm as tears fell one after another from the slits of his eyes. He’d feel resentful of himself, but would still wrap his arms around his weak body and strangle his sobs because the walls were paper thin. He’d rest his head on his knees, back against the cold wall before he’d crawl to the foot of his bed and cry into the mattress as if it were his mum’s or Y/n’s lap.

The sun had begun its hideaway for multiple days on end, and it got dark way earlier. Although he'd liked to think that he was prepared for the season, for the entirety of the beautiful autumn, he knew he was just baffling to himself. His current state was proof for it.

He felt tired, always. Never sleeping and being irritated at the slightest mistakes made during practice -- whether it was with himself or with his teammates. He had no interest in eating or getting out of his dorm room in the mornings, which was extremely unusual of him. Exams were around the corner and as much as he'd like to say that he was ready to tackle them, it was a lie far far away from the truth.

He wasn't even sure what the syllabus was, if he was being completely honest.

By the end, his throat would be aching because of the stifled wails and the sun would have risen by the time he’d be done collecting himself, and then a headache would follow and his eyes would've dried up because of the night time that he used to study instead of sleeping.

Swiftly climbing down the flight of stairs to go to y/n's dorm, he felt the same kind of sensation he did when he was going back home for the winter break.

He knocked thrice, gently because he’s sure she's still sleeping or just woken up. There was a rush in his body, the thought of seeing her was making him more and more impatient. He was beginning to feel nervous, almost verging on anxious.

The door opened, and Y/n peeked through the small crack before and her eyes widened at the sight in front of her. He was standing right there, freshly showered and dressed in a fresh pair of clothes. His face was shining and as he smiled down at her, his dimples indented in his shaved cheek and she could smell the strong smell of his shaving cream that lingered around for a while. His lips were stretched so far that the front of his bunny could be seen from the small gap forming in between.

He didn't look much better than he did on the mornings that have passed them by since winter started, but he did seem to be in a better mood. It made her happy that he loved the hot pink hoodie that she bought him as much as she did. He had paired it with some joggers, and the shoes that, again, she had gifted him.

Tears pooled in her eyes in an instant and her nose flared a bit as her mouth swung open in a grin, spurts of laughter falling out as she gazed at him in disbelief.

She made herself fully visible and opened the door wider. Instead of saying anything, she closed her mouth shut, still smiling at him brightly, and opened her arms for him to lean into her.

"Good morning," he gritted through his teeth as she held him tightly, rubbing her back up and down as she broke down in his arms. Pushing the door shut with his leg.

“Good fucking morning,” she sobbed and hicupped, a crack in her voice indicating that this was the first time she'd spoken since she'd woken up, and that she would’ve begun screaming in victory if only she could stop the stuttering cries rushing out of her.

This was the sole reason she'd begun to dislike mornings less, in the first place -- the love she felt oozed out of her at the sight of Harry. But she hadn’t realized just how off and gloomy she had been this whole time until she broke down at the mere sight of him looking decent. All these mornings that she had to wake up knowing deep in her core her that she wouldn’t see the sun, no matter how much she begged for it to come out had put her in a despair so great that she couldn’t even fathom the feeling of it.

But when she’d woken up this morning to see the land outside covered in white snow, shining as sunlight fell on it filled her with a certain hope to the brim. It almost made her flinch, the way sunlight fell on her face as she laid in her bed, eyes swollen and pillow still wet with the tears she’d cried into it the night before.

"You look exceptionally good this morning," she said while pointedly eyeing him up, wiping off the snot with the sleeve of her hoodie. "All good?"

Harry laughed at that, picking her up and taking her to the unmade bed. It looked like she was in the process of making it because all of her stuffed animals were strewn all over the floor -- and she tends to sleep with them on the days Harry isn't there to take up more space than necessary.

“I would’ve been on my way to buy some flowers for you, had I not seen the snow outside. Got too excited to see you, couldn’t wait,” he spoke softly, like she was still in a fragile state.“Plus, it’s too cold outside and I’d like my golden girl to come with me… For the sunflowers only bloom at the sight of the sun,” he smiled with his eyes crinkling on ends, and dimples shying away from Y/n’s gaze.

“First of all, we need to talk and second of all – how many times did you reframe this cringy speech, Harry?”

#harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfiction #boyfriend!harry #harry styles concept #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shots #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles au #footballer!harry #frat boy!harry #harry styles fic

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 6 months

Note

WIBTA for calling animal rescue/welfare on my mom who loves her pets?

My mom has 2 cats and 1 dog. I want to start off by saying that she doesn't physically abuse her animals.

They're in a weird state of being really emotionally spoiled and completely physically neglected. The dog sleeps in bed with her and is always on the sofa, doesn't get told off when he pees and poops in the house, and the cats are always getting cuddles. The cats are getting kinda fat because they're fed a lot.

My mom is an alcoholic and she doesn't look after herself or her home at all. It's been years since she showered or bathed, she goes weeks without changing her clothes except for when she works, her house is genuinely falling completely apart. Cupboard doors are falling off at the hinges and propped up with buckets, doors don't close, carpets are coming up off the floor, wallpaper is peeling, the shower door fell off and shattered, the toilet lid is cracked in half, the floors are too dirty to step on without shoes, the entire house STINKS of animal urine and there are stains everywhere. A couple of years back she had an insect infestation in one of the bedrooms.

Now, my mom loves her pets and really emotionally relies on them. Ever since I moved out she's been alone and has regressed even worse because when she's at home she has nothing to do but drink and watch TV. The pets are her only company most days.

However, her bad hygiene and home care translates to them. It has been YEARS since the dog was walked, and months since he even got a cursory trip over the road to the small grass area outside her house. His fur is always matted, and he recently had fleas (god knows how when he doesn't leave the house but there you go). He has bald patches of fur missing. He pees and poops all over the floors and carpets because he just doesn't get let outside to do it enough - and he runs away or hides when you find it so he 100% knows he's not supposed to, he just doesn't have a choice because he's not able to go into the garden. His claws are always so long they're bothering him when he walks, and as gross as it is to describe there have been COUNTLESS times I've visited and he's had literal shit caked onto his fur around his tail because he's had diarrhea and when I've pointed it out that he needs to be washed my mom brushes it off with "It's only a little bit" and continues to let him onto the bed/couch.

The cats are mildly better off because they can clean themselves, but their litter trays are always OVERFLOWING - like, genuinely, mountains of cat poop piling up in the trays to the point where they're going on the floor because they don't have room in the tray - and one of them is sleeping in a bed that is Caked in vomit stains, clumps of hair, other miscellaneous marks, all of that.

I've called someone about it before when I still lived there, and a woman did stop by to check it out and told my mom that the cat litters were unacceptable, but my mom just lies to them. According to her the dog gets walked twice a day without fail, gets a ton of enrichment, everything, and you can't really prove her to be lying. The woman told her she'd drop by in a week to check on the litters, my mom kept them clean until she came back and gave the okay, and then just went right back to neglecting them and nothing was done about it.

I have no idea what to do anymore but I want to call again and really impress upon them that they're not being cared for. I sent photos and video evidence last time along with an explanation, but it doesn't seem like it got me anywhere at all. I just don't know what else to do. I've brought up the idea of taking at least the dog with me to my new place (it's very nearby so she'd still be able to visit him and I'd be able to walk him up to her house), but she VEHEMENTLY objected and told me she'd never be able to let him go.

I'm not sure what it would do tbh, even disregarding that she'd probably just get a new pet I would be genuinely worried she'd lose all interest in life if they were taken away.

TL;DR Mom's alcoholism means she doesn't look after her pets and they're not being cared for at all, but taking them away would severely impact her mental health.

WIBTA for calling animal services on her again?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #unsanitary cw

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writeforfandoms · 7 months

Text

Vicious

Find my CoD masterlist

Looking to expand your territory, you find a military group in more or less the middle of nowhere, and spend a few days observing them. Of course, things are never easy, and soon you find yourself a permanent guest of one Commander Graves.

Coyote shifter f!reader x Phillip Graves

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, piv sex, teasing, biting, dirty talk, blood, injury, gunshot, emotional slow burn, enemies to lovers, eventual happy ending. PoV does shift.

Everybody thank @sprout-fics for literally plotting this out with me I don't even know how long ago. Thanks for infecting me with the Graves brainrot, love.

Word count: 11.5k (might wanna go grab a drink)

You approached the base with caution. You'd circled around the base for a few days before deciding to approach. You wanted to know what this was since it was in your territory. Well. Sort of. It was kind of right on the edge of your territory, but since there was a very rude pack of wolves pushing on your territory, you were looking to expand.

Thus, investigating.

The base was big and mostly flat, several buildings set up. You could vaguely see a hanger in the distance. Hmm. Interesting.

Trotting along, you lifted your nose to sniff the air. Lots of scents - men and gunpowder and oil. Hmm. Not terrible, but not great.

Maybe you should look elsewhere to expand.

There was a thunderous crack and a line of fire erupted across your back. You yelped, scrambling away, even as warm wetness seeped into your fur. You bolted, ignoring the pain, ignoring the blood. You needed to get somewhere safe to shift back and get medical attention. Or at least hide until you healed.

If the wolves found you like this, they'd kill you.

You made it away from the shooter, getting as far as an abandoned-looking building before you collapsed. Your legs gave out with a wobble and you whined softly to yourself. Your back hurt, a solid line of fire that pulsed steadily with your heart.

That was probably bad. You must have gotten hurt worse than you thought.

Jaws parted as you panted, you debated your options. You could try to sleep here, you could try to get somewhere safer, or you could shift back.

Even the thought of shifting made you hurt, and you laid your head down.

You needed medical attention. And liquids. And rest.

But rest would have to come first, because your body refused to cooperate with you otherwise.

As much as you knew it wasn't safe here, as much as you longed to get back to your own den… you closed your eyes.

Just a nap. Just enough rest to get you back on your feet to get home.

–

Graves had had a good day. Drills had gone well. One of his boys had shot at a coyote. All was well. He'd even authorized a couple boys to go find the coyote and put it out of its misery.

The last thing he expected was to see those two boys come back with a woman bundled between them, passed out cold and wrapped in one of their jackets. Her legs were bare beneath the jacket.

"What the fuck?" He muttered to himself, standing up straighter.

"Found her out in the middle o' nowhere," one of them said, flagging Graves down. "She's bleeding."

Graves frowned. Bleeding, unconscious, left in the middle of nowhere? Sounded like she'd run into some trouble.

"Bring her to medical," Graves ordered, already striding over to pull the door open for them. "And for fuck's sake find her some clothes." He held the door for the two and his gaze dipped down to what he could see of her. Mmm. Nice legs. Nice ass, too.

He resisted the urge to follow them to medical, trusting that they'd get her there. Instead he went to start on the necessary paperwork.

Medical paged him once she was cleaned up and dressed, and he told them to alert him as soon as she woke. Fingerprints hadn't gotten any pings yet, which was a good thing.

But still. He needed answers.

Graves huffed softly and leaned back in his chair. Nothing he could do about her for now but wait.

–

You woke slowly, warm and not sure why that felt wrong. Not at first. Then the smell registered.

This was not home.

You sat up quickly and then groaned softly, clenching your teeth. Oh, ouch. Your back fucking hurt.

"Oh good, you're awake."

You jerked your head to look at the door, eyes wide. A good-looking man stood there, eyes raking over you. He looked military - the way he stood, the cut of his clothes, the subtle bulge of a gun tucked in the back of his waistband. Oh fuck.

"How you feelin'?" His voice was mild as he grabbed a chair, pulling it over closer to your bed.

"Back hurts," you answered carefully. "Where am I?"

He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes, which remained cool. "Medical. I have a few questions for you."

You noted he didn't ask if you were up for it. Clearly this man was used to getting his way. You swallowed. His scent wafted to you, warm and a little spicy and far too alluring. "Okay."

"Do you know where my boys found you?"

You narrowed your eyes a little, thinking. Right. You'd been shot and ran away, and had collapsed outside that abandoned building. "Sort of?"

"Do you remember how you got there?" His gaze was more intense now and he leaned forward.

You had two options here that you could see. Make up some lie, or lie and say you didn't remember.

"I… don't remember." You swallowed hard, shifting your weight. Your back hurt and tugged a little. "What happened to my back?"

"Nice long scratch. Had to put in some stitches to keep your skin together." He didn't even flinch at the description. Not that you did either. You'd spent enough time as a coyote to see your fair share of blood.

"Thank you." You forced yourself to meet his gaze. His eyes were pretty. Alluring. Dammit.

"You're welcome." His smile was all arrogance now. "I'd appreciate some information in return."

"Like what?" Your gaze darted to the door nervously. This was bad. This was very bad. You needed to get out.

"Where were you before this? How did you get hurt?"

"I don't remember." You eyed him now carefully. You were injured, but maybe you could get the drop on him…

"Well. That's a damn shame, darlin'." He pushed to his feet, gaze fixed on you. "I'm afraid I need some answers before you can go."

"You can't keep me," you immediately retorted, twisting to face him. "That's not legal."

His smile turned condescending. "And who's gonna stop me?" He spread his hands out from his body, still smirking.

You tensed, gauging, and then lunged at him. You couldn't shift, not here. But maybe you wouldn't need to. You slammed into him, pain lighting up your back, and tried to shove past him. He recovered fast, faster than you expected, grabbing you and hauling you back to him. You growled, low and angry, and bit his shoulder. Hard.

He shouted, jerking under your teeth. But he didn't let you go. Just yanked your wrists behind your back, securing them with one hand before using his free hand to get a grip on your hair and yank.

"Feisty, huh?" His grin showed far too many teeth. Even for a human that was a clear threat. "'S alright, sweet pea. I've got time. I'll have you singing before long."

You whined when he tugged your hair again, forcing your head back, exposing your throat. He held you easily, not even breaking a sweat as he kept you contained.

You'd miscalculated. Badly.

The room he escorted you to was plain and not comfortable. Little more than a concrete box with a cot bolted down, the room lacked any warmth.

"I'll give you some time to think about your answers," he told you before he pushed you into the room. You stumbled, off balance from the shove, and the door slammed shut.

The lock clicked, loud and ominous in the room.

You had really, really miscalculated.

–

Graves walked back to his room before checking the bite, which was already blooming color on his skin. "Fuck," he muttered, half impressed and a little turned on. "Helluva bite." He sucked his teeth, fingers rising to press gently to his skin. The little bloom of pain made him groan softly, arousal rising. Damn but he liked that.

He wanted to tame this one.

"Damn, sweet pea," he muttered, pressing down again, ignoring the blood rushing down to his cock. For now. "Damn."

–

You were brought food regularly, so at least they weren't starving you. That would be bad, on top of your injury.

And the asshole came back at least once a day to ask you the same questions. What happened to you? Where had you been? How did you end up out here? Who hurt you?

You, at least, stuck to your line. You didn't know. That was all he was getting out of you. Nothing else.

You didn't try to bite him again. At least, not for the first few days.

Then he got mean.

"Y'know, sweet pea, I could make this so much nicer for you," he murmured. "Or so much worse. I've been generous, you know."

"You call this generous?" You curled your upper lip, hands curling into loose fists.

"Coulda left you to my boys." His smirk was downright nasty now, eyes glinting with mean amusement. "I'm sure they'd appreciate you."

You stiffened, a low growl rumbling in your chest. Excitement sparked through his scent and his lips stretched wider. "Don't you fucking dare."

"Then gimme what I want," he purred, leaning closer. "Or a good reason not to."

You lunged. He was prepared this time, though you still got your teeth in his shoulder before he grabbed you and twisted. You yipped, startled, as he manhandled you face-down on the cot, pressed up tight to your back to keep you down.

The hardness pressing into your ass made you jerk.

"Told you," he growled into your ear, breath hot against your skin. "Give me a good reason not to."

"Fuck off," you snarled, trying to buck him off, ignoring the hardness of him.

"Rather fuck you." His teeth were sharp on your ear.

You snarled, deep and rumbly, squirming under him. But you couldn't deny the thrill of arousal at how he held you down. He was strong. Very strong.

"Fuck," he muttered, pressing his hips harder into yours. "Better hold still, sweet pea, unless you think you can take me."

"I dunno, you think you can handle me?" You couldn't resist taunting him, baring your teeth.

He huffed a little laugh and shoved one knee between your legs, leaning his weight onto you. "Oh I can handle you, sweet pea." He shifted, biting down on the back of your shoulder. You moaned, almost startled at how much you liked that, how good it felt. "Yeah? Pretty girl likes it a bit rough?"

"You all mouth?" You shot back, managing to free one hand. You reached back to claw at him, not sure if you wanted him closer or wanted him off of you.

He swore softly when your nails caught skin under the sleeve of his shirt, dragging down. "Feisty pretty girl," he growled. He grabbed your wrist again and shoved it back down to the bed, pushing you harder into the mattress, his chest to your back. One hand let up, but he compensated, keeping you trapped under him. "Guess you don't wanna get fucked tonight." His free hand slid slowly down your side to your hip, and he pulled you back and down onto his thigh.

You gasped at the feel of his thigh firm between your legs, fanning your arousal. You squirmed, hands twisting, tilting your face to the side. "Mm, feels like you're all teasing and no follow through."

"Good girls ask nicely." He lifted his hips away from yours, using his grip on you to push you further into the bed, away from the warmth of him.

You snarled into the bedding, twisting harder. But he didn't budge, didn't give you an inch. He was absolutely infuriating.

But he was also possibly going to fuck you, and you possibly wanted him to.

"I don't do nice." You kicked out with one leg, and he grunted as you pushed him off balance enough to have him crashing back into you. You could admit to yourself that though he was an ass, you wanted more.

"You will, sweet pea," he grunted, fingers tightening around you. "You'll beg me for it." He rocked his hips into yours and you arched, no longer trying to get him away or get him off. No. Now you wanted more.

When he pulled back again, your lips parted in a snarl, and you almost asked what he was doing.

Except you felt fingers at your back, pushing the shirt they'd given you up until it bunched under your arms. His fingers were warm and a little rough as they slid along the path of your injury, just to the side so he didn't actually hurt you. The nurse had insisted on leaving the bandages for another day, although you didn't really need them - you healed faster than a human.

"One day you'll tell me," he murmured, low and promising. "And I'll be here for all your secrets."

A shudder ran down your spine and you squirmed. "Keep it up and I'll think you're actually interested in me," you quipped. You needed his attention off your back, needed him to leave it alone.

"Oh but I am," he purred, lowering himself again so you could feel the press of his shirt against your back, the flat plane of his stomach leaving you nowhere to go. "You're just too temptin', sweet pea. I can't resist."

You sucked in a breath when he bit down on the back of your shoulder again, a little gentler this time. But the feeling of teeth in your skin, even with the shirt in the way, only made you want more. You bucked into him, struggling, a low whine escaping without permission.

"Sound so sweet like that," he murmured, too pleased with himself. "Let's see what other pretty noises you can make for me."

"Arrogant," you shot back, wiggling your ass back against the bulge of him.

"Confident," he corrected, grinding into you. "Now, you gonna be a good girl if I let go?"

"Define good." You grinned into the sheets, hiking one knee up to get leverage to push back into him. He only pressed you harder into the cot, pulling a groan out of you.

"Guess that's a no," he huffed, nosing the side of your neck. "Shame. I'd love to take my time with a pretty thing like you."

"Sure know how to make a girl feel special." You squirmed again, trying again to free your hands.

"Baby, I'll make you feel so good," he promised, low and crooning. You shuddered hard, twisting one hand free and reaching back to pull his head closer, fingers scratching through his hair. He huffed against your neck, warm and damp. "Still gotta ask for it."

You gritted your teeth, digging your nails into the back of his neck. "Make me."

He groaned softly, pressing his bulge harder into you. He was a flurry of movement, pushing your shirt up over your head but leaving it tangled around your arms. "Such a little brat," he growled, teasing. "I can fix that."

"Such an ass," you gasped as he yanked your sweatpants down, leaving them pooled on one ankle.

"All you gotta do is ask, baby," he murmured, hand smoothing over your ask. "I'll fuck you real good if you ask."

"Not on your life." You whined softly when his hand dipped down between your legs, teasing, testing.

"Oh yeah?" He huffed an amused noise. "We'll see about that, sweet pea." One big finger slid into you and you gasped, legs shifting further apart to give him more room. "Knew you liked this," he muttered victoriously, his finger making a lewd noise as he moved it. "Fuckin' knew it."

You opened your mouth to snipe back at him and ended up moaning instead at the stretch of a second finger. “Fucking tease,” you managed, tilting your hips to allow him deeper.

He huffed. “Already told you what you have to do,” he murmured, pumping his fingers faster. The coil of pleasure in your belly grew tighter, and you rocked your hips back into his fingers. Not yet willing to give him the satisfaction of hearing you. But the scent of his arousal, his clear enjoyment of this, was near dizzying.

You bit your lip hard enough to taste blood as you got close, eyes shuttered, determined not to give him satisfaction while getting your own.

And his fingers slipped out of you.

“What–?” You started to demand, pushing hard against him.

“Told you,” he said, amused now, even as you heard his belt buckle clink. “Gotta ask, baby.” He nipped the shell of your ear and then groaned softly. There was a soft, wet noise.

Your eyes blew wide and you froze. He was stroking himself, slow and rhythmic, his knuckles just brushing your ass. He was just going to leave you like this.

Unless you asked.

You clenched your jaw for a moment before you gave in with a little whimper, tilting your hips and ducking your head down against the cot. “Please,” you murmured.

“What was that, sweet pea?” He sounded unbearably smug, even as he brushed his knuckles over your skin a little more firmly.

“Please,” you repeated, pressing your forehead into the cot. The smell of him was intoxicating and a little addicting and utterly ruining your composure.

He hummed, teasing, and the noise stopped. Still-damp fingers pressed to your ass and then curled around your hip, guiding you into a better position. “Please what?”

You growled a little, debating kicking him off and taking care of yourself. But damn he’d gotten you riled up, and now you wanted him. “Please fuck me,” you ground out, tone far from pleading.

But that must have been good enough for him. “Good girl,” he cooed, condescending and overly-sweet. You fought down the urge to bite him again, mostly because you could feel him beginning to press into you.

He did not go slow, and he was not gentle. Which was fine - you didn’t want gentle. You didn’t want slow. You wanted him to fuck you hard enough that you saw stars.

He was relentless, searching for your g-spot and then hitting it as often as possible. He released your hands to fist your hair, tugging your head to the side so he could kiss and nip at your neck. His groans vibrated against your skin, making you whimper.

“Yeah? Feel good?” He nipped sharply at your skin and soothed the spot with his tongue. “Tell me, sweet pea.”

You resisted. For a moment. “Feels good,” you agreed with a gasp, getting one hand behind you to scratch through his hair, keeping him exactly where he was. “More.”

“More what?” The words were growled into your skin, his grip tightening on your hip until you thought you’d have bruises.

“Need more,” you gasped, bucking your hips back into his. “Please.”

“Knew you could be so good for me,” he crooned, far too pleased. But he did move his hand to rub your clit, not giving you a chance to mouth off to him again.

“Fuck!” Your fingers scrabbled at the sheets and fisted in them, shaking a little.

“Good girl,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear now. “Come on, baby. Come for me. Come on, come on, baby.”

Later, you’d be humiliated, but you did. You came with a shout, body tensing under his, hand in his hair clawing down the back of his neck. He hissed, shuddering hard against you, and roughly pumped into you a few more times before he spilled in you.

“That’s it,” he murmured, almost dazed sounding. “Fuck you feel good.” He ground against you, probably just to hear you whine.

He didn’t quite collapse on you, but it was close. Fortunately, you got to just melt into the cot, breathing hard.

“Have fun, sweet pea?” He slid out of you smoothly and stood, fixing his clothing. You kind of hated him for that, even as you turned your head to glower at him over your shoulder.

“Still an asshole,” you grumbled, stretching out. You needed to move, to wipe yourself off. But you couldn’t resist the moment of tormenting him with the sight of you on display.

He chuckled, undeterred. “Better rest up, sweet pea,” he advised, smirk clear in his tone. “I’ll be back later.”

The door locked behind him as always.

Fine. You’d just bide your time. Someone would slip up eventually.

It took another week. A week of acting more compliant, of not trying anything. Graves didn’t come back for that entire week, either. Why, you didn’t know, but you weren’t going to ask.

Finally, the soldier that brought you food forgot to lock the door.

You waited until you couldn’t hear him anymore before you crept to the door, cracking it open just the tiniest bit. Nothing. No sound near you.

You had to sternly remind yourself not to just go tearing off, you had to do this smart. So you snuck out of your room, shutting the door again. Hopefully that would keep them from looking.

Getting out of there was perhaps one of the most stressful things you’d ever done. You listened hard for people, and once had to duck into a cleaning closet to avoid a couple chatting soldiers. Your heart pounded against your ribs the entire time, so loud you had to focus to hear past the blood rushing through you.

But you did it. You made it outside. The sun was setting, the land open around the base. You’d blend better if you shifted, and you’d be faster.

A quick look around showed you were the only one in sight. Moving fast, you nearly threw your clothes off and shifted, landing on four paws.

This was so much better.

You left the clothes where they fell and started trotting off, away from base. You were more careful this time, darting between bushes and generally being stealthy.

So when something tackled you from the side, you yelped, totally caught off guard. You struggled until a firm hand grabbed your scruff, holding tight and lifting you a little. You whined and went still.

“Well, well, well,” Graves murmured, smirking down at you. “I’ll be damned.”

You lifted your upper lip to growl at him, hoping he’d take the hint and back off. Instead, he fearlessly wrapped his free hand around your muzzle.

“You’ve already bitten me before, sweet pea,” he said, looking over you again, awed and not at all scared. “Not gonna let you with bigger teeth.”

You stared at him, fear a cold wash down your spine. You realized with perfect clarity in that moment that not only had he put together exactly what you were, but he was never going to let you go.

Graves carried you back to your room, shutting the door behind the two of you before he released you. You skittered away, putting some distance between the two of you. “Go on, sweet pea. Show me.”

You were momentarily confused, ears twitching as you looked at him. But he didn’t move, didn’t step away.

“Don’t get shy on me now,” he teased, smirking like the bastard he was. “Already seen all of you before.”

Understanding dawned, and you briefly pinned your ears back. But if there was one thing you knew about Graves, you knew that he was stubborn.

So you shifted back.

“There you are.” He grinned, wide and satisfied and distinctly smug. “Quite a trick you got there, sweet pea.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, glowering at him. “Why did you grab me again?”

“Can’t let such a fascinating little thing run off now can I?” He finally took a step closer to you, gaze fixed on your face.

You clenched your jaw. “Sure you can, it’s easy.”

He chuckled, taking another step closer, until he was just outside your space. “Oh sweet pea, told you I’d be here for all your secrets, and I meant it.”

You swallowed, not sure how to react to that. He held all the power here, and you both knew it. But you didn’t want to yield, didn’t want to bare your neck to him. So you bared your teeth instead.

“Mm, that too,” he purred, not at all deterred. On the contrary, he reached for you with one hand, licking his lips.

You took a step back, eyeing him. “Do I get any say in this?”

“I’m not a monster,” he told you amicably, allowing you some space.

“No. You’ll just keep me here.”

He shrugged. “You know too much,” he said easily. “And knowing what you are? I’d be a fool not to use all advantages I can get, and I ain’t a fool.”

You puffed out a breath. “I think you overestimate how much I know.”

He smirked. “Perhaps.” He took a step back finally. “Tell you what, sweet pea. You behave and I’ll get you a nicer room to stay in.” He didn’t give you a chance to answer (or object), just turned and left, locking the door again.

You groaned softly and fell back on the cot. Well. Fuck. That had gone the opposite of how you’d wanted. Now not only were you stuck here, but Graves knew what you were.

Hopefully he wouldn’t try to do anything awful.

Graves visited you every day for the next several days. He never asked for anything. Just seemed to be enjoying the power he held over you. Sometimes the visits were short, mere minutes, more check ins than anything else. Sometimes he’d stay for longer, chatting, slowly getting to know you.

As you were getting to know him.

You didn’t pretend to understand his interest in you, but you didn’t exactly discourage him, either. You only snapped playfully at him. You didn’t try to kill him. You also didn’t spend more than a day or two feeling sorry for yourself and being sullen and mopey.

Coyotes were adaptable creatures. It’s how they’d become one of the most successful predators in North America.

So you adapted.

“Brought you a little somethin’.” Graves was in a particularly good mood tonight, eyes bright, smirk firmly in place.

“Oh?” You didn’t even bother to get up, staying seated with your back to the wall, book still in your lap. (He’d finally caved the fourth time you’d threatened to die of boredom.)

He crouched in front of you, holding out a bracelet. It was simple metal beads, though just from looking at it you guessed not all of them were so simple. He looked far too smug, putting you a little on edge.

“This has got a tracker in it,” he told you, letting it dangle from one finger, swinging gently and catching the light. “And a couple little surprises. Gimme your wrist.”

You huffed softly but held out one arm for him, watching him fasten it on you. “And what stops me from just taking it off?”

“One of the surprises.” He smirked, thumb rubbing the soft underside of your wrist, pressing briefly against your pulse. “You can test it, but I wouldn’t recommend it, sweet pea.”

Curiosity warred with caution, and caution won. You puffed out a breath. “Alright, so you can, presumably, track all the time I spend sitting here reading. Wow. Fascinating.”

He just grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a way that was absolutely not endearing. At all. Not even a little. “Well, I was thinking you could come on a walk with me.”

“Seriously? Not yanking my chain?” You raised both eyebrows at him.

“Seriously.” He stood straight again, using his hold on you to tug you up with him. “C’mon. Lemme show you around properly.”

Curiosity won out over caution, this time. You followed him.

The base was larger than you’d initially guessed. Graves kept you close to his side as the two of you walked, which didn’t stop you from looking around. Several of his men saw the two of you, but none of them approached. Hm. Fine with you.

Graves probably enjoyed showing off the base a little too much, although you realized he was also showing you off with a hand on your lower back. Conniving man.

You could respect that. Especially if he was less of an ass.

“Wanna go explore?”

You side-eyed him at the offer, and especially at the grin he shot your way. “Eager to see if your little gift works as promised?” you drawled.

“Nah. You’re not a fool.” His eyes gleamed as he watched you.

You huffed softly, amused despite yourself. ��Well, you’re not wrong.” Not giving him a chance to retort, you walked away. You heard his chuckle behind you, but he didn’t follow.

Exploring by yourself was… interesting. But not in the way you expected. The men looked at you, yes, but none of them approached you. One or two even stepped out of your way.

Very interesting. They were not exactly a pack, humans didn’t work that way, but they clearly had their own pecking order.

You made your way towards the fence, looking up at the guard posts. Considering the way the land stretched out flat before you for miles, the base sticking up like a sore thumb, you were both surprised and not. Only one actual road in and out of this place, and you didn’t bother going towards that gate.

Instead you started towards the nearest guard post, determined to get up the ladder and see the view.

“Uh, ma’am, you can’t go up there.”

You looked at the young man in front of you - not as tall as Graves, definitely younger, a little uncertain. Adorable. He looked more like a pup than a man.

“Graves told me to explore,” you drawled, dry as dust. “I’m exploring.”

“You still can’t go up there.” He pulled back his shoulders, trying to intimidate you. Aw. Cute. His radio crackled, and very faintly you could hear Graves on the other end. Just his voice, not what he said. But the soldier nodded once and stepped aside. “He said it’s okay.”

“Thanks.” You kept your tone dry and purposefully made noise going up the ladder. The guard on duty glanced at you but didn’t say a word, allowing you to take your fill of the view.

This area had been your home for a long time. Sure, not here exactly, but, well… You’d been wanting to expand your territory anyway, hadn’t you? This wasn’t a bad expansion. Especially if you could convince Graves to let you go hunting properly.

You could come to see this as home. In time.

Coyotes were adaptable. This would not break you.

Graves’ hand at your back didn’t even startle you this time. You’d heard him coming, after all.

You’d ask him about hunting some other time. No need to push too fast, after all.

You had time to win him over.

–

Graves was pleased - the tracker worked exactly as it should. And you behaved perfectly, exploring, poking your nose places. All without even trying to leave.

He’d gentle you to him yet.

Eventually, he’d be able to move you into his room. But not yet.

For now, he contented himself with dinner with you, watching your barely restrained curiosity. He didn’t quite chuckle to see that curiosity mirrored in his men, but it was a close call.

"Enjoying, sweet pea?"

You scoffed softly. "Yes, well, meals in my room were rather dull." Your teeth flashed in a grin.

He chuckled. “Don’t have to do that anymore,” he offered, watching you. “Long as you behave.”

You tipped your head, and he could see the predatory gleam in your eyes. But you nodded once.

He’d definitely be keeping an eye on you. Not that he minded - you were a pretty little thing, after all.

Maybe he’d get his hands on you after dinner.

–

Days passed faster now that you were no longer confined to your room. Graves let you have free roam of the compound - nothing was off limits to you.

Which is how you stumbled upon a training exercise.

Graves beckoned you to join him without looking away, arms crossed loosely over his chest as he watched two teams with paintball guns attempting to get each other out.

"Training?" You guessed, stopping next to him, observing the game closely.

"Mmhm." He didn't look at you but his hand settled just above your ass, thumb stroking gently. "Paintballs only."

You nodded. "Just trying to tag each other out?"

"Timed game," Graves told you with a flicker of a grin. "Team with most people left standing when the timer goes off wins. My boys are competitive."

You hummed acknowledgement, watching them dart around. It looked like this entire section of compound was open - the terrain and buildings were all being used in the game.

When the timer went off, Graves took you with him to see who had won. You only half paid attention, admittedly, busy examining the ones who'd been counted as out.

"Looks like somethin's on your mind, sweet pea." Graves smirked down at you.

"Let me play."

He blinked. That was clearly not what he'd expected you to say. "What?"

"Let me play." You bounced a little on your toes. "It looks like fun."

Graves blinked, giving you a quick once-over over. You were smaller than most of his men, and untrained. But he knew your secret. "Alright, but don't cry when you get out first."

You grinned, showing far too many teeth. "No tears," you promised, low and silky.

It took no time to get outfitted with a vest and a paintball gun. Graves even graciously gave you a one minute head start.

You darted away, finding a good hiding spot. Your aim was not the best, and you usually did your hunting with your teeth, but you'd make do.

A timer went off, signaling the rest of the teams were being released onto the playing field. Graves hadn't actually told you which team you were on…

Guess that meant everyone was fair game.

Your teeth showed in a grin as anticipation raced through your veins. Finally. A hunt.

The first pair you spotted were clearly on the same team and patrolling together. You waited until they passed and got both of them in the back. (One shot went totally wild, but you elected to ignore that.)

They both looked surprised to see who had shot them but moved off the playing field.

After that, you slunk away to another good hiding spot. This time you managed to get four - another patrol of two, then a single man a few minutes later, and another single man passing close enough for you to get him.

Your smaller stature served you well, letting you get into smaller spaces than they could. And you knew how to hunt, to wait, to be still and focused.

By the time you'd gotten your tenth "kill", your heart was thrumming, easy confidence in your eyes.

But you paused when a PA system flicked on with a crackle.

"Change of plans, boys," Graves called. "First man to take her down gets a prize."

Fuck! That wasn't the game! But you had to admit… the change thrilled you.

Teeth showing in a grin again, you abandoned your current spot to climb. You needed to get up higher to see what you were up against.

Roughly ten men remained, some having been knocked out by other teams. You could briefly see them as they split up.

Good. Make this a real challenge.

But you had one advantage they didn't. You could hear them coming.

That was your only saving grace as one tried to corner you. You could hear him coming, and escaped around a corner before climbing to get away.

He swore extensively when you managed to shoot him.

Two of them got smart and tried to flush you towards a third. It might have worked, except that you spotted him up ahead, and threw yourself through a bush to get away.

Unfortunately, that only worked until one of them got physical, tackling you to the ground. Your yelp was more surprise than pain, and you had to resist the urge to bite him.

Graves would not be pleased if you made his men bleed.

"Caught, sir." The man who'd tackled you hauled you to your feet, and you narrowed your eyes at him. You were no misbehaving pup to scruff!

Graves sauntered up to the two of you, smirking. "Well, well, well," he hummed. "You did better than I expected."

You smirked right back at him. "Next time, you will not be so surprised."

He laughed once, short and amused. "True," he agreed. "Now, for your reward."

The man released you and you turned to see who was left. Only eight. (Either you'd miscounted or there had been a bit of foul play among the remaining players.) You memorized their faces.

You'd take them out first next time.

You didn't bother to pay attention until Graves had a hand at your back, guiding you forward again. The training seemed to be over, as most everyone was putting away their gear.

Graves didn't lead you back to put away your gear, though. He handed off the paintball gun to one of his men and pushed you back towards your room.

Fully aware of what you were starting, you bit him for being pushy, growling low in your throat. He just swore, hands clenching around you, and bit you back.

Honestly, you were a little amazed the two of you made it back to your room before the clothes came off.

–

Graves had never expected you to do so well at paintball, but you did. You were light and fast, hard to hit when you were on the run, and clever. Not trained, but clever.

He threw you in the paintball games as often as he could, now, just for the joy of watching you.

And the fun afterwards.

Finally, though, they got called out. He debated bringing you with, but… there was no easy way to explain your presence, and he wouldn't risk your life.

You'd just have to stay and be good.

You took the news better than expected, honestly. Only a little growling and biting. (And Graves really, really didn't mind the biting.)

But then you did something very unexpected.

You saw him off.

You stopped in front of the group, eyeing them all. Graves noted with amusement how they all straightened - you'd gained a lot of respect by joining in training.

"I expect I'll see you all again soon." The look you leveled at all of them made it clear that was an order, not a suggestion.

The various noises of assent just made Graves hide his grin.

You nodded once and looked at him, one eyebrow raised. But you did lower your voice, at least. "Bring me back something sweet." You winked and walked away.

From this angle, it was easy to see that you were a predator, stalking through his base as confidently as if it were your own.

Graves tried hard not to think about that too much, because if he did, he'd have to haul you back and fuck you on the plane.

–

You kept yourself busy while Graves was gone. There were still people on base, so you weren’t alone. You thought briefly about going hunting, but you didn’t want to distract Graves at a potentially vital moment.

So, you kept yourself entertained by poking your nose into every nook and cranny you could find.

That lasted you a few days. Watching several movies lasted you a few more. And finally, just when you thought you’d risk giving Graves a heart attack just to go for a proper run, they returned.

You did not rush them as they all disembarked the plane, standing back with your arms crossed over your chest. Some of them were injured as they got off the plane, but they were all back. You counted. Twice.

And then there was Graves, directing his men, making sure everything got done. You met his gaze across the distance and couldn’t help but smile, just a little.

There was no sense of challenge in meeting his gaze. No fear. Just the visual confirmation that this asshole hadn’t gotten himself killed.

He finished up quickly and made his way over to you, swagger uninterrupted, gaze fixed on you.

He surprised you, though, grabbing your hand instead of your wrist to tow you back to his room. His, not yours. Not that he gave you time to look at much before he was kissing you like he was affirming he was alive.

It wasn’t until much later, after you both lay sated and warm, that he grunted like he’d just remembered something.

“Brought you back something,” he murmured, moving away from you and ignoring your displeased huff. Not bothering to put any clothes on yet (something you very much agreed with), he stepped over to his duffel bag and bent over to grab a box. He smirked at you over his shoulder. “Close your eyes.”

“What?” You blinked at him, caught off guard.

“You heard me, sweet pea.”

You rolled your eyes pointedly and then closed them. This was silly. But you were willing to play along, for now.

To your surprise, you heard the box open, heard Graves step closer. “Smell,” he ordered softly.

You sniffed, head tipping in curiosity. You could smell the sugar, absolutely, and something floral. You huffed softly, amused at the little game.

“Sugared flowers?” you guessed without opening your eyes, leaning a little closer.

Graves chuckled softly, and the box rustled as he did something. “Open,” he murmured.

You briefly made a face but you did as he asked. He put a single piece on your tongue, fingers brushing your skin as he retreated. The flavor was more intense than the smell, and you hummed in satisfaction, eyes fluttering open again. Graves licked his lips, watching you as he pulled another piece of sugared flower from the box. This time, you accepted it and sucked on his fingers, swiping your tongue over the tips to get every last bit of sugar from his skin. The scent of his arousal quickly overpowered the florals, and the box dropped to the pillow next to you.

Somehow you both missed dinner.

–

Graves had been considering how to tell his men about his coyote. Oh, sure, they all knew that you were his, but they didn’t know you were a shifter. And that could become dangerous, if he didn’t tell them. In case of emergency.

(The fact that he wanted to tell them had nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that he wanted to show you off more. Not at all.)

His timeline got pushed when you let yourself into his office, near bouncing on your toes.

“I’m going hunting,” you said before he could ask.

Graves leaned back slowly, giving you a thorough once-over. “Need to borrow some gear?” he asked.

You rolled your eyes, clearly exasperated. “No. I’m going hunting.” You showed your teeth to emphasize your point.

Ah. That kind of hunting. “Alright,” he agreed slowly. He knew you still had the tracking bracelet on, and he had to admit some curiosity to see how well it held up after you shifted. “I’ll make sure nobody shoots at you.”

“Again,” you drawled.

Graves didn’t feel bad about that, because nobody had known about shifters at that point. Besides, it was hard to feel bad about the thing that had brought you to him. But he would make damn sure you weren’t injured under his watch. “You shifting here or out there?”

“Here,” you answered after a moment. “Easier to not deal with clothes.”

Graves nodded again, still watching you. “Good hunting, then, sweet pea.”

Your teeth flashed again as you grinned. “I’ll bring you back something good.” And you were gone, bouncing back out of his office before he had a chance to properly respond to your words.

You’d promised to bring him something back.

This was something new, and Graves was going to find out what that was about.

His boys didn’t take the news about you being a shifter quietly, but they took it. He could see they didn’t believe him yet, but they would.

And they all knew he was a man of his word. So they knew he was not exaggerating when he threatened to kill anyone who breathed a word of this to anyone else.

But Graves trusted his boys. He trusted they wouldn’t betray him. Or you, by extension.

The day was mostly gone by the time he heard the commotion. The call to open the gate came first, then a chorus of whistling and clapping. That was enough to pull him outside to see what the commotion was all about.

A coyote was dragging a whole ass white tail deer into the compound, jaw clamped tight around its throat. Graves felt his eyebrows shoot up in surprise - the deer was considerably bigger than the coyote, but the coyote didn’t even slow down.

Until you stopped in front of him, depositing your trophy and looking up at him.

“Beautiful,” he murmured. Both the deer and you. “Dragged it back by yourself?”

You huffed at him, briefly showing your teeth.

“Course you did,” Graves chuckled, crouching in front of you. He debated for a moment before he held out one hand. It took only a moment before you shoved your head under his hand, and he stroked your fur, silently thrilled. His coyote. “Gonna let one of my guys fix it up?”

You stepped back and lifted your lip in a silent warning.

Graves chuckled, holding his hands up in a pacifying manner. “Alright, sweet pea. You just let me know what you need, then, and I’ll let you handle it.”

Mollified, you grabbed the deer again and started dragging it away from the buildings, which he appreciated. He watched you maneuver your kill around without assistance, admiring your strength and determination. His men all kept out of the way, though he did hear a few compliment you on your kill.

This was something he could get used to.

–

You honestly hadn’t realized how much you missed shifting until you could, anywhere you wanted. The men got used to you quickly, opening the gate for you to come and go as you pleased. An unofficial new game had popped up - try to pet the coyote. You took great joy in evading their hands and occasional playful tackles. Honestly, it was fun.

You didn’t expect to be approached by one of the men on his own while you were sitting outside. You blinked at him, head tipping to one side.

“Do you have a moment?” He shuffled his feet a little, scent caught between shame and embarrassment.

“Have a seat.” You turned a little to face him fully, on high alert now.

He sat next to you, giving you a moment to find his name patch. Roberts. His sandy hair was nearly the same color as Graves’, though he was shorter and leaner. Roberts sighed softly before he looked at you, meeting your gaze. “I wanted to apologize.”

You blinked, caught totally by surprise. “For?”

“I shot you.” He made a vague motion towards your back. “I mean, I didn’t know it was you, I just shot at a coyote. But still.”

You shook your head with a little smile. “Don’t fuss over it,” you advised. “It’s long in the past now, and I healed.”

He frowned at you, disapproving. “Anyway, a few of us were out last week, and, well…” He rolled up his sleeve to show off a still healing tattoo. A coyote in front of the Shadows symbol.

He had simultaneously claimed you as pack, and put himself under you. And he’d sort of spoken for the rest of the Shadows, too.

At least, your coyote brain was trying to convince you that you now had the biggest pack ever to protect and provide for.

You grabbed him, pulling him into a hug and rubbing your cheek over the top of his head. He held himself stiff for a few long moments before he awkwardly patted your back, looking absolutely bewildered when you pulled back.

“Thank you,” you murmured, breathing in deep. “That’s… it means more than you know.”

He smiled tentatively and nodded. “Sure,” he mumbled. “So, not mad at me?”

You huffed a little laugh. “Not at all.” You shook your head, gaze drifting down to the tattoo again. “May I?”

He held his arm out for inspection, and you looked over the line work and the details of it. That was definitely a coyote, and definitely the insignia of the group.

Well. Your pack had just grown. Quite a bit.

“I love it.” You sat back and smiled.

He puffed up a little, clearly proud of himself. “Did the line art myself.”

“Good to know.” You smiled slowly. “I might ask you to do something for me at some point, then.”

“Would be my pleasure.” He puffed up even more, resembling a fluffy rooster. “Anyway. Just wanted to show you that.”

“Appreciated.” You nodded to him and watched him go, still puffed up with pride. You, on the other hand, were wrestling with your instincts to provide for your pack.

Dammit. Fine. You’d make a couple loaves of bread, that would satisfy the itch for now.

The bread was a huge success. As were the next four loaves. (Graves grumbled about sending a few men for supplies, because apparently the demand for fresh bread was quite high.)

You didn’t expect to see more of the tattoos. But you did.

Over the next two weeks, nearly a dozen of them approached you, usually individually, to show off their own tats. Most of them got the tat on a forearm, but one got his on his back, and one got it on his calf. You couldn’t help it - you hugged every one of them.

You never would have predicted this would happen when you’d been shot those months ago.

“You’re not tired of that damn thing yet?” Graves asked, clearly grumbling, after the most recent soldier had jogged off again.

“The tat?” You grinned, looking back down at your bread dough. “Nah. I like it. Might get one for myself.”

Graves grumbled wordlessly, coming up behind you to wrap his arms around your middle, teeth digging into the back of your shoulder through your shirt. “Won’t find one on me.”

“No?” Your breath hitched at the brief pain of his bite. This had become a habit between the two of you. “Too bad. I was thinking of offering an exchange.”

“Exchange?” His head peeked up over your shoulder. “Of what?”

You hid your smile, amused. “Marks,” you said blandly. “Thought you might like the idea of me wearing something of yours on my skin.”

The quickly-stifled groan against the skin of your neck proved you right, and your smile turned victorious. “Not that,” he mumbled, lips moving against your skin, making you shiver. “Something unique.”

You hummed softly, poking the dough one more time before tossing a towel over it to let it rise. “Well…” You trailed off, taunting, leaving the bait for him to take or ignore.

He, of course, took the bait. “Well?”

“Family tradition is a bite,” you mused, pushing your hips back into his. “But I don’t think that will work here. Don’t think you want a big scar.” You smirked teasingly back at him.

“Could just get it tattooed,” he pointed out, hands settling on your hips, pulling you back into him.

“Get a tattoo of your teeth marks?” You could feel the way he responded to that, an involuntary little jerk of his hips. “I could wear that, easy.”

“Yeah? Wanna show off that you’re mine?” Graves tightened his grip on you, scraping his teeth lightly on the skin behind your ear.

“More like have a permanent reminder,” you mumbled, tipping your head. “Pack already knows I’m yours, and you’re mine.”

He bit down on the back of your neck with a groan, hands nearly fumbling as he rucked your clothes up and out of the way to get at your skin.

It took only a few days to make the arrangements for your corresponding marks.

–

Graves normally didn't mind Shepherd. He was a demanding ass sometimes, but overall not bad.

Until right this very moment.

"Didn't catch that, sir," Graves ground out, working hard to keep his temper. He didn't want to go flying off the handle, not now.

"Don't play coy with me, son," Shepherd said, firm and a little condescending. "I know you've got a shifter there."

"Don't know what you mean." Graves dug the nails on his free hand into his skin, the pain helping ground him and keep him from doing something monumentally stupid.

"No? Then the coyote shifter isn't yours? She's a pretty thing, figured she's your type." The smirk in the general's voice was clear.

Graves didn't respond, torn between demanding to know how Shepherd knew about her, and denying her existence.

"I'll have a couple of my men there in a few days to bring her in."

"Bring her in?" Graves repeated, sharp and serious.

"I'm taking her. She could be a valuable asset to me."

Graves hit his limit. That? Was unacceptable. "No, sir."

Shepherd paused for a moment. "No?"

"No. She stays here." Graves knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if he handed you over to Shepherd, you’d never be seen again. The general was a merciless man. He’d break you, or dissect you. Or possibly both. And that was something Graves found he couldn’t live with.

Shepherd let the silence grow between them before he snorted softly. "You sure you wanna do this?" He asked, soft and threatening.

“I am.” Graves clenched his jaw. He was willing to let a lot of shit slide, hell, he’d done a lot of shit himself. But this? No. He’d never admit it aloud, but he was too attached to you.

He’d never hand you over to anyone. But especially not Shepherd.

“This won’t end well for you,” Shepherd promised. And hung up, not giving Graves a chance to respond.

Graves breathed out slowly, putting his phone down. He knew Shepherd, knew the general wouldn’t give up so easily.

This would come down to a fight. One he was determined not to lose.

Graves started planning.

–

When Graves first insisted you learn how to use a gun, you rolled your eyes. Why did you need a gun? You had teeth. But he didn’t let up, going so far as to ask while balls deep inside of you, holding you still under his weight and refusing to move until you gave in. That earned him a few days of nasty looks.

But you did learn.

The worst part about it for you was the noise. Even with the headset to muffle the sound, it was jarring and took some getting used to.

You noticed the changes on base slowly. The guards seemed more alert, constantly watching the horizon. One of the Shadows was always nearby, though they always made it seem coincidental. Graves held you tighter at night (he’d moved you into his room shortly after you both got tattooed).

But any time you tried to ask, Graves evaded. Stricter training. Upcoming op. Refreshing their skills. All were excuses he tried.

You didn’t quite believe any of them.

But he clearly didn’t want you to know, so you didn’t push. You just grew restless, often walking the perimeter of base.

He was keeping something from you and you wanted to know what.

None of the Shadows would tell you. Apparently Graves had given them orders not to, because when you cornered one younger man he outright panicked, gaze darting all over the place, hands shaking. You left him with a snarl of discontent, stalking away.

Not that you had to wait long, after all.

A shout went up from one of the guards that night, well after dark. You could hear radios going off around base too, just caught a few words: vehicles, armed, Shepherd.

You had very little idea what it meant, but the way the rec room emptied hinted that it was nothing good.

“Come with me,” Graves demanded, hand fastening around your wrist.

“What–?” You didn’t get a chance to finish your question as he pulled you along with him. He got a vest on you first, then handed you the rifle you’d been practicing with and ammo.

“Stay with me, sweet pea,” he ordered. And it was very clearly an order. “Okay?”

“Okay,” you agreed, confused but rapidly realizing how serious this was.

Graves got his own gear on with practiced motions, clicking his comm. “How far out?” he asked briskly. You could just hear the voice on the other end, but not the words. “Copy.” Graves started moving, and you stuck close to him.

Outside the building was nearly unrecognizable. Shadows were running around prepping, putting up barriers and hides. Graves strode through the organized chaos, right up to the gate.

You could see vehicles approaching, four of them. The rumble of engines grew steadily louder, though the gates remained closed.

The vehicles stopped, people piling out of them, guns down for the moment. You didn’t recognize any of them. Not that that was truly a surprise - you knew few humans.

“Graves,” one of them called in the kind of tone of one used to being obeyed. “Last chance to hand her over.”

Graves clenched his jaw and didn’t look back at you, though you realized with sudden startling clarity that this was all about you. Because somehow that man out there knew you were a shifter.

And Graves had apparently refused to hand you over.

It was an interesting feeling, warmth suffusing you from Graves’s actions while dread tried to remind you of how very bad this could be.

“Not a chance, Shepherd,” Graves called back. He nudged you back just a little, hands gripping his gun securely.

“I’m sorry it came to this. If you hadn’t been such a fool…” Shepherd trailed off.

You only had a moment to wonder what he meant before the shooting started. You ducked back behind cover, Graves right behind you.

“I want them all dead,” Graves said into his comm, eyes utterly cold. You realized with a start you hadn’t seen him like this since the very beginning of your stay here. “Let’s get it done.”

You were not ashamed to admit that you were not much help. You didn’t have the experience of these men, and this was not a fun game of paintballs. Besides, your movements were restricted to keeping with Graves.

But you did surprise yourself when you spotted one attempting to flank around the barriers, and you shot him. He fell silently.

For a bare moment, you wondered if you should feel bad. Not that you did - you’d killed your fair share of prey before. But prey had never been human before.

Then again, humans had never attempted to infiltrate your territory nor threatened your pack before. Not like this.

“Good shot, sweet pea,” Graves said, speaking up over the din around you.

You had just enough time to see his faint grin before the world exploded around you.

You blinked at the dirt under you, ears ringing, head aching. Hands grabbed you and you growled, disoriented, at least until you heard the familiar sounds of your pack shouting. Pulling you back, away from danger. Presumably. Your hearing was still fucked, and you couldn’t smell anything through the gunpowder and smoke.

One of them fell with a shout, something you just barely heard. You stumbled as his support vanished, falling to your knees. The other Shadow tried to haul you to your feet before he was shoved away, much harsher hands grabbing you. You yelped, the sound too canine to come from a human throat, still disoriented enough that you couldn’t properly resist.

You almost got your feet under you, except a harsh yank from one of the two pulling you along sent you right back off-balance. You swore, clumsily grabbing for something to hold on to. Your hearing was coming back, slower than you liked but enough.

They were dragging you off base. To Shepherd.

If they got you that far, Graves wouldn’t be able to get you back.

You twisted hard, managing to get a hand on one of them. He tried to yank you off balance, muttering curses.

But you took advantage of the bare skin of his wrist that you could see and lunged, jaw locking and teeth clamping into his skin. The hot taste of blood filled your mouth but you refused to let go, even as one of them hit you in the back, hard.

It wasn’t until you heard two gunshots, closer than expected, followed by the dead weight of the soldier dragging both of you down that you released your grip. You spat blood out of your mouth, swaying a little.

“Sweet pea!” Graves hit the ground next to you, one hand immediately going to your cheek. Blood matted down his hair on his right side, and he seemed to be favoring that side in general, right arm kept tight to his side. Shadows surrounded the two of you, keeping Shepherd’s forces back.

“I’m okay,” you managed, still a little dizzy. But you latched on to Graves’s vest, because he was right there and comforting.

Graves let out a relieved sigh, giving you a quick visual once-over. His thumb smeared the blood on your chin.

“Not mine,” you reminded him, paying no mind to the two bodies around you now.

He nodded, tugging you closer. “Marry me.”

“What?” You blinked at him rapidly, sure you’d misheard him.

But he grinned, bright and a little mischievous, totally disregarding the active battlefield you were on. “Marry me.”

“Let’s finish this first,” you pointed out, lips twitching in response to his humor. “Kill Shepherd first. And then I expect a proper proposal.”

“Anything you want.” He pressed a hard kiss to your lips, uncaring of the blood, before he got to his feet. You followed him, swaying only for a moment before you caught your balance.

Shepherd’s force had been decimated, only four remaining, huddled behind the protection of the armored vehicles. One tried to put down his weapon and back away from the fight, only for Shepherd to turn on him and shoot him.

“You can end this,” Graves yelled to Shepherd in open mockery of Shepherd’s earlier offer. “Nobody else has to die.”

Shepherd didn’t respond, gaze flitting between the Shadows and Graves and you. “You really think you can get away with this?” he asked, voice absolutely venomous. “I’m a general!”

“Shouldn’t have tried to take my coyote, then.” Graves backed up, gently pushing you back as well. You were confused for a moment, trying to figure out what the plan was. There was no way he was just letting Shepherd live, was he?

The Shadows all swarmed back behind cover, still keeping you surrounded. Something rolled under the vehicle Shepherd hid behind, and the whole thing blew up. You ducked a little, reflexively, before popping back up with wide eyes to watch. The other vehicles were also quickly destroyed.

You followed Graves over to check the bodies. All dead. You tipped your head, looking down at Shepherd, silently wondering if he’d really been willing to die to get his hands on you.

“Let’s clean up this mess,” Graves ordered, and Shadows immediately jumped to obey. But grief hid in his eyes as he looked at his base. You leaned into him, silently offering support. You’d help count the losses.

“You still owe me a proper answer,” Graves murmured, his hand settling low on your back.

“You still owe me a proper proposal.” You smiled, leaning harder into him. “Even though you’re already mine.”

He huffed. “Bold of you,” he mumbled, head dipping closer to yours. “I like it.”

“You always have.” You smirked, tipping your head enough to bare your teeth at him and watch as his pupils dilated.

“Trouble.” But Graves just grinned at you.

–

The base was a mess. Graves helped as much as he could, contacted families and next of kin as necessary.

The general was disposed of quietly, their trail covered. His Shadows wouldn’t face the fallout of this.

You held up better than Graves had expected, supporting his men when needed, doing whatever you could to help with cleanup and disposal. Honestly, he was impressed.

He also hadn’t forgotten his promise to you.

Once he was sure the danger had passed, he made some arrangements. Flight plans, necessary permits, a few phone calls. Everything was set and arranged exactly how he wanted.

He had basically everything. The last thing was something he needed to pick up himself. He snuck out while you were hunting, knowing you’d more than likely pout but he’d be back soon.

“How do you feel about goin’ on a little trip, sweet pea?” He asked a few days later, so as not to arouse suspicion.

You shrugged from your place in his lap, idly watching a few of the younger Shadows playing a video game. “Never done much of it,” you admitted easily. “Never had a chance.”

He hummed, one hand squeezing your hip gently. “You interested?”

“Sure, if you want.” You shot him a little smile over your shoulder, relaxed still. That told Graves everything he needed to know.

He didn’t quite pick out your clothes for you, but he did insist on a few things. Like something nice to wear. (And if he snuck in a brand new set of lingerie for you, well, he liked seeing you in pretty things.)

You didn’t like the plane trip, that much was obvious. Tension pulled your shoulders tight, and it took you a long time to get comfortable and settle down. Graves kept one hand on you to help where he could, and was finally rewarded when you fell asleep against his shoulder.

Watching your awe looking around somewhere new warmed him in unexpected ways. (Maybe he shouldn’t be so surprised. He did ask you to marry him, after all.)

He gave the two of you three days to adjust to the timezone change and do some touristy things. Not that he much cared - he’d been all over the world by now. People were people everywhere. But giving you this experience? So much better.

You eyed the Eiffel tower with distrust when he led you to it, and he couldn’t help but smirk.

“Don’t worry, sweet pea,” he drawled, extra sweet. “You’ll be fine.”

You immediately scowled at him (just as he’d hoped) and stalked up to the lifts. He followed a little more leisurely, knowing everything was taken care of.

He caught your expression as the sun set, the wind whipping against the two of you, the city sounds all but gone. You looked awed again, hands gripping the railing as you looked over the city. Graves smiled, pleased with his timing, and settled next to you for a minute, just letting you look your fill. The softer light on your skin filled him with a kind of warmth he’d never thought he’d experience.

“Hey, sweet pea. Got a question for you.”

You turned to him and blinked, totally unsuspecting. Graves took a knee in front of you, pulling the ring box out of his pocket, and your eyes went wide, one hand flying up to your mouth.

“I promised I’d do this proper,” he murmured, looking up at you, blind to everything else. (There were at least two of his Shadows in the crowd, you were safe, that’s all he cared about.) “Never thought I’d be here, but you’ve been a surprise from the beginning. I want you to keep surprising me, sweet pea. Will you marry me?”

You nodded and then huffed a soft almost-laugh. “Yes,” you managed, hands settling on his cheeks before you kissed him. The crowd around the two of you clapped, a few whistles coming from his boys. Graves grinned at you, honestly ridiculously happy, and slid the ring on your finger.

Standing there with you in his arms, the stars slowly emerging even as his boys put on a hell of a fireworks show for the two of them, Graves knew one thing for certain.

He’d gentled his coyote, but you’d gentled him every bit as much. And he was just fine with that.

#shifter au #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves x you #f!reader

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