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ickadori · 6 months

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++ 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘

[summary] wriothesley has noticed a change in your behavior towards him, and thinking the worst, he keeps himself busy in the fortress of meropide as he awaits your certain rejection. instead, he learns that you had the notion in your head that he could ever love anyone else besides you, and proceeds to clear your head of such silly thoughts.

[cws] fem reader -> wrio’s wife. angst to comfort to smut. oral. minor overstimulation. wrio is in his feelings, heavily. reader thought wrio was interested in clorinde. wrio thinks he isn’t good enough for you -> self doubt/self degradation. 3.4k

Somewhere along the line, Wriothesley had messed up.

This wouldn’t have been an issue in and of itself — Wriothesley’s life had been riddled with his mistakes ever since he was a teen, after all, one after the other just piling up— he always took responsibility for his shortcomings, his oversights, his negligence, especially when it came to you.

He was always the first to admit that he wasn’t perfect, and always the first to apologize for it, fully believing that you deserved nothing short of it. But this time, he wasn’t sure exactly what he should apologize for. To him, he had been doing everything right recently.

Things between you two had been peaceful, jovial, full of shared love and happiness… or maybe that had been entirely on his end. Maybe his unrelenting love for you had somehow managed to overshadow your distaste, your unhappiness, your subtle clues hinting towards what the problem was.

Maybe your loving grace had finally run out — you had finally matured and realized that you could so much better than being tied down to a man littered with scars so deep that they allowed you to see what he was really made of; something murky and dark and wholly unfitting to be so close to someone such as yourself.

If that were the case, and you had finally come to your senses and were regretting allowing him to slip that ring onto your finger, were regretting all the hushed declarations of love whispered to each other in the early hours of the morning, regretting all the times you had given yourself to him, allowed him to be the first to touch you and promised him that he’d be the last, then he would let you go.

All Wriothesley ever wanted in life was to see you happy. He had hoped it would be with him, that he’d be able to turn to face you in bed and not have a doubt in his mind that you were and content by his side, the truth reflected in your eyes. But if he couldn’t have that, have you, then… he had lost before and made it, scathed but alive, and he could surely do it again.

He first noticed a change after the gates holding the Primordial waters were broken. The two of you had been in his office - you taking on the arduous task of organizing his books, while he had been nose deep in a pile of paperwork that he had neglected for far too long.

The sirens blaring had sent the both of you into a frozen stupor, you in disbelief and him in horror, but he had broken out of his quickly. He had rounded his desk and taken your arm, quickly leading you down the stairs and out of the door to his office. He had told you to leave, go to safety, go to Neuvillette, and when you had opened your mouth to protest, he had kissed you in earnest and pushed you through the door before shutting it behind you.

After the crisis had been averted, Neuvillette’s seal holding back the waters for just a bit longer, he had sought you out immediately. He found you in your shared home curled up in bed, his pillow clutched to your chest as tears wet your cheeks.

Wriothesley calls your name, his voice raspy and winded, a result of all the running and panicking he had done in his desperation to find you.

Your head snaps up in an instant, puffy eyes moving to him, and he can see the relief in your face; eyes getting a bit of their light back, lips turning up a bit from where they previously fixed in an open sob. “Wrio,” you cry, and then he’s on you, the bed dipping underneath the added weight as he covers you with his body, arms winding around you tight as he holds you, basking in what the waters tried to steal away from him.

The two of you had made love that same night, if you could really call it that. He had pressed himself into your heat, bodies tightly pressed together, and had rocked into you while he whispered his fears against your shoulder and you cried yours into the crook of his neck. Neither of you had come, the high emotions of the day blocking off the path to that blinding bliss, but it hadn’t been any less pleasurable or special.

It had brought Wriothesley closer to you — the act of nearly losing you had solidified that he’d be lost without you. That a part of him would be forever broken beyond repair if you were to no longer be by his side.

With how you’ve been acting as of recent, he guesses the opposite could be said for you. Perhaps the experience had forced you to see your regrets in life; him, and perhaps you were mulling over what to do in your head.

Wriothesley sighs, calloused hands moving to sift through his hair as he tries to fight off the throbbing at his temples. The headaches came back with a vengeance each day, Sigewinne’s remedies doing next to nothing to alleviate him of his misery.

He’s been down in the Fortress of Meropide for days now, not able to stomach your off-standish behavior for too long lest he break down at your feet and beg for forgiveness that he never deserved in the first place. You weren’t cruel to him, he doubts that you could be cruel to anyone, no matter their sin, but you were different.

His appearance didn’t bring forth the blinding smile it once did before, but rather a more muted one, a placid one. You didn’t rush him and drown him with your kisses, but rather pressed a fleeting one to his lips before skirting off somewhere. You didn’t curl into his side at night, your legs tangled together while you told him about your day until you eventually drifted off, but instead kept your back to him while you made sure to stay on your side.

It was the small things that crushed him, threatened to grind him into dust and let the wind blow him away, so instead of seeing his demise unfold before him, he decided to be ignorant and lock himself away underneath the sea.

There’s a heavy knock at his office door, and he wants to delude himself into thinking you’ve come for a visit, the past few weeks having never happened, but you had never been one to knock, instead slipping inside and bounding up the steps with a sweet call of his name on your lips.

“Come in.” He calls, not bothering to straighten out his shirt or smooth his hair down as he listens to the ‘clink’ ‘clink’ of a pair of heels ascending the stairs.

“Wriothesley.”

“Clorinde.” He greets, eyes moving to her in lazy acknowledgment before settling on a chip in his desk. “I thought I told you last time that your recurring presence wasn’t needed. The seal will buy us some time, and the Harbinger still hasn’t returned. It wouldn’t be entirely wrong to assume him as dead.”

Wriothesley held deep respect for Clorinde and her fighting prowess, and the two had even shared a few cups of tea and held casual conversation, but there was only one person that he wanted to see in this moment, and it certainly wasn’t her.

“I’m not here on business.”

“I’m not in the mood to entertain.”

“Oh, I’m not here to make idle talk with you either — I’d get more of a conversation out of a bloated corpse before I got one out of you.” He looks at her, tongue prodding at his cheek. “I’m here on the behalf of your wife.”

He perks up at that, eyes growing alert and heart stuttering in his chest as he begins to rise out of his seat. “Is something wrong? Is she alright? Where is she?” Clorinde lowers herself into the chair on the opposite side of his desk, not a hint of urgency in her face, and Wriothesley wants to reach across the desk and shake her words out of her. “Did something happen?”

“Nothing that requires your current level of panic.” She softly shakes her head, a rare flash of amusement shining in her eyes. “She’s safe, a bit misconstrued, but entirely safe. She’s currently in the Palais Mermonia lamenting to Neuvillette about how her husband no longer loves her.”

“…that’s absurd.” Utterly absurd, completely inconceivable. He didn’t love you? He breathed for you, lived for you. “That’s absurd.”

“Neuvillette told her as much. But she’s convinced that your gaze has wandered to another.”

“What? I don’t— I’ve never looked at anyone else besides her.” The pure truth. You had stolen his undivided attention from the moment he first saw you and had refused to let it loose. He thought about you when he woke up, as he went about his duties, as he sat down to take a break, as he strolled the dark, cold halls of Meropide and wished he had your touch to warm him up, you, always you, only you.

“My frequent appearances in the Fortress of Meropide may have contributed to that notion.” Wriothesley blinks, rusty gears in his head churning as he tries to think. You had been acting strange ever since the gate failed, and Clorinde had been a recurring visitor ever since. She had helped him hold off the water and the damage had been minimal, but the situation still needed to be closely monitored, and he had already had his hands full with trying to get the prison back in the swing of things, so he had left that aspect to her.

He remembers now — your impromptu visits. You’d carve out pieces of your day to come and see him, only to be met with the sight of him in conversation with Clorinde, the both of them completely engaged as they mulled over the situation. Wriothesley would turn his attention to you the moment he noticed you, would greet you as he always did, but maybe… maybe it wasn’t how he always did. Maybe he was a bit shorter, a bit impatient, a bit dismissive, a bit frustrated, a bit cold.

The crisis had been weighing heavy on him since he first found out about it all those years ago, but when it was suddenly surging forward and threatening to take what he loved most, it had threatened to crush him flat, and he had tried to adapt.

Perhaps he was the one that had changed.

He’s out of his office before Clorinde can say another word, a quick glance between them solidifying an agreement that she’d take his place while he was away, and then he’s on his way to the surface, cursing himself as he goes.

He knew he had been the cause of your sudden change, and he had mulled over it in his mind day after day as he tried to figure out why. To think that it was because you thought he could ever be with anyone else after you had given him your love—he was addicted to you and everything you had to offer, to the way you made him feel, to how you treated him so gently when all he had known was cruelty and hardship.

He’s at the Palais Mermonia in record timing, and he leaves a slew of startled Fontanian’s in his wake — the Duke of Meropide racing through the streets to bare himself at his wife’s feet, he’s sure he’s made quite the sight. Hopefully, Gods willing, the two of you can laugh at the newspaper in the morning while you lay in bed, together.

Wriothesley rarely makes trips to Neuvillette’s office, but he’s always been welcomed, and he’s grateful for that when he’s not stopped by one of the many Melusines stationed around.

As he nears the door he hears your voice, and the soft sound washes over him like a gentle wave; refreshing, dizzying, suffocating. The sound of your unmistakable cry is the complete opposite, and he bursts into the room, chest heaving as he looks to where you’re sitting in front of Neuvillette’s desk, your head lowered into your hands while he quietly watches you.

The door loudly knocks against the wall, the commotion causing a hush to fall over the room, and he waits with bated breath as you lift your head and turn to see the cause of the disturbance. Your eyes widen when you see him, lids puffy from your crying, lips parting and hands tightening around the armrests of your chair.

“Wrio,” you call his name, softly, tenderly, and he calls yours doubly so. “What are you doing here?” It feels as if it takes an eternity for him to cross the room, when in reality it probably only took a few seconds at best, and he turns your chair around so you’re facing him, the legs scraping against the floor as he does. “Wriothesley?”

“I’ll leave the two of you alone to speak.” Neuvillette’s exit is swift, the door shutting behind him softly, and Wriothesley moves his hands to cup your face as he lowers himself down to his knees, thumbs wiping away the last few tears. You lean into his touch, your own hands tightly clasped together in your lap, and he catches your eyes, wishing that he could tear himself open and show you the way you’ve etched yourself into his heart.

“Wrio—” He moves his thumb so it’s covering your lips, the digit gently stroking the slightly chapped skin there. He gives you a gentle smile as he looks up at you.

“You’ve been doubting me.” Your eyes widen before you drop them to your lap. “That’s why you’ve been acting so unsure. I thought… I thought you had finally grown tired of me.” That look of bewilderment, much like the one he had when Clorinde first revealed your feelings to him, flashes through your eyes as you look at him. “That you finally realized that I could never give you what you truly deserved; everything.”

“Wriothesley,” you try, and he quietly hushes you, a lump building up in his throat that he has to fight hard to swallow down.

“I didn’t do a good enough job showing you just how much you affect me; mind, body and soul. There’s no other that could over compare, that could ever touch me in the way that you have. You are my beginning and my end, the only woman I ever have, and ever will, love.” His fingers are wet with your tears. “You own me completely — you don’t have to ever worry about my attention drifting elsewhere, and I apologize for ever making you think that it ever could.”

His words are spoken with the utmost sincerity, voice raw and unfiltered, and he prays that his love for you bleeds into his words, prays that you can grasp the full extent of how much he cares for you, adores you, utterly worships you as if you were a Goddess yourself.

Your voice cracks as you call his name, eyes once again filled with tears, and he leans forward to kiss your eyelids. “I love you,” the declaration makes his heart soar. “I love you so much. I’m sorry for thinking—”

His lips push against yours, chapped and bitten raw from days of worrying, and yours are in no better condition. He pulls away just to plant another kiss at the corner of your mouth, breath puffing against your face as he nose rubs against yours, foreheads pressed together and eyes locked onto one another’s.

“You don’t need to apologize for your feelings. Ever.” He kisses you again, this one more frenzied and heated than the last, and the both of you only part when your need for air outweighs the need to stay connected. “Gods, you just don’t know how much I’ve missed you — can I show you?”

His hand glides down to the slope of your neck, over the curve of your shoulder, down your shoulder to gently squeeze at your hand, and settles on your hip, fingers sinking into the flesh through your clothing.

“Show me?” You breathily ask, and he smiles against your skin, eyes muddled and heated as he hums. “Show me what?”

“Show you how this body of mine belongs to you and you only.”

“…show me.”

Wriothesley couldn’t help but be a bit selfish first.

The both of your clothes have been discarded somewhere in the office, and he’s laid you back against the blue, plush couch, his hands keeping your thighs up and out of the way as he’s got his mouth latched onto your cunt.

He can’t recall how long he’s been between your legs; kissing, licking, sucking, slurping, but he knows he’s pulled two orgasms out of you, your slick coating his face, even dripping off his chin in long, stretched out lines as he tries to get more.

His hands tighten on you as he wraps his lips around your twitching clit and suckles, hazy eyes blinking open to travel up your body. He starts at the pudge of stomach that’s littered with his marks, then up to your heaving breasts that’re decorated as well, nipples puffy and swollen from the treatment he had given them earlier, further is your lips, spit-shined from his fervent kissing, and finally is your eyes, which gaze down at him as you cry out.

A molten heat swirls in his gut as he drags his tongue down through your folds, letting it seek out your clenching hole before pushing inside with a dizzying squelch, nose nuzzled up against your clit as he fucks his tongue into you.

You squirm and twist in his hold, hands trembling as they push at his head, and Wriothesley detaches himself from your pussy with great difficulty, eyebrows furrowed as he greedily licks at his lips. “Is it too much for you?” You weakly nod, eyes tiredly blinking, and he kisses at the inside of your thigh before letting it rest on his shoulder to free up his hand, pointer and ring finger moving to part your folds while his middle taps at your clit.

“Wrioooo,” you drag out, and he practically coos at the sound, his eyes flickering between your face and your cunt.

“I know, love, I know.” Your hole clenches, the pretty sight of your clear slick pooling nearly hypnotizing him. He allows his thumb to sink into you, a deep, guttural groan being forced out as you wrap around him and suck him in just as greedily as he had done to you.

He places a chaste kiss to your clit, once then twice, and gives it a slow drag of his tongue as he forces himself to move up your body, lips leaving a trail of your slick and his spit until he can lock his lips with yours.

His cock hangs heavy between his thighs, the tan, uncut tip wet with pre-cum. He aches, terribly, and when your hand slithers down between the two of you, soft fingers wrapping around him and guiding him into your heat, he nearly howls in bliss and finishes all over your clit and folds - nearly.

His eyes roll as he sinks in, heart hammering against his chest as shivers wrack up and down his body. He grips onto the back of the couch, the expensive wood splintering under his grip, and grits your name out through clenched teeth. You’re warm, soft, perfect, salvation, and he basks in it, hips pushing forward until he’s nestled deep inside, cock snug inside your welcoming walls.

Once he’s staved off his end for just a bit longer, he adjusts his stance, one foot raising up to brace on the couch while the other stays on the floor. He kisses you, soft and sweet, an unspoken question in his eyes, ever-present, and you answer him with a hushed ‘yes, I do’.

His hips pull back so only the tip remains, and then he’s surging forward, cock punching a choked moan out of your throat, your hands flying to grasp onto his sweaty shoulders. “There you go, hold onto me, baby.” That’s the last intelligible sentence he gets out before he loses himself in the feel of you, mind deteriorating down to nothing but his most primal needs; the need to drive his cock into you until he physically can’t go on any longer, until your cunt is gaped and overflowing with his seed, until the both of you are spent, until you’ve drained him of everything he has to offer, until you know —and Gods he hopes you’ll know— that he’s yours.

Mind, body and soul.

Completely, wholly, and undoubtedly yours.

Forever and always.

#wriothesley x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut

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topgun-imagines · 1 month

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His Little Girl

Requested: No

Summary: You knew that Jake would be the best father to your baby girl. He didn't hesitate to prove it.

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: Pregnancy, hospitals, & mentions of blood.

Pairings: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x wife!reader

Jake Seresin was an amazing father. You thought that this would be the case, but the past few days were nothing but proof. Your entire pregnancy, Jake had been right there by your side. With every craving, every bout of morning sickness, every time you needed to feel the weight of your growing baby lifted from your shoulders, Jake was there. The whole nine months, all the way to your labour, he was the perfect husband. Not once during your 22-hour labour did he leave your side.

Regardless of his caring tendencies during your pregnancy, somehow, Jake was even more caring the second your baby girl was born. Around 4:30 in the morning, Aimee Rose Seresin was born, weighing 6 pounds 7 ounces and perfectly healthy. You and your husband couldn’t have been more happy. Early that morning, for only the third time since you had met Jake, you saw tears filling your husband's eyes.

When the nurses took out your little girl to do blood tests, Jake immediately ran down to get you something to eat. Jake arrived only seconds before the nurses did. He helped to prop you up and sort out your meal before Aimee was passed over to him. You watched with unlimited adoration as your little girl snuggled into his bare chest. You finished what you could have easily considered the best meal of your life before relaxing back onto your pillows. Within seconds, your eyes were slipping shut and you were drifting off into a peaceful sleep.

You woke up a few hours later to the same sight of your baby girl asleep on her daddy’s chest. A soft smile grew on your face at the sight of your sleeping husband. Luckily, Jake had set your phone beside you before Aimee was handed to him. You snapped a quick picture and set it as your lock screen. You had never been more in love than you were now.

Mere seconds later, the nurse walked in to check up on you. Your husband woke up slowly, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. “How are you doing, dear?” The sweet elderly nurse questioned as she reviewed your vitals. After only a few minutes, you were left alone again with your family.

Your husband was standing now, walking toward you while rocking your little girl softly. Not only did Jake hold your little girl like she was the most precious thing in the world, he looked at you as if you hung the moon and the stars. In that moment, you could easily see how much he loved you. His eyes held untamed adoration as he set your little girl on your chest.

“I love you so, so much, honey.” He whispered to you gently as he leaned down. A chaste kiss was placed on your forehead.

The soft moment between the two of you was often one that you returned to when Aimee woke up crying in the middle of the night. However, even in those times of frustration, you knew that your husband was beside you every step of the way.

Thankfully, you only had to stay in the hospital a few days longer before you were allowed to go home. Those few days flew by in a breeze, Jake being a large help through the whole process. You knew the history that Jake had with his father, so you were more than proud of the fact that he was already such an amazing father. The fact made you smile softly, watching your husband love on your little girl once more.

Unsurprisingly, the ‘hot dad walk’ that you had been looking forward to since you found out you were pregnant did not disappoint, far exceeding any expectations you could have had. The sight of Jake carrying your baby girl out in her car seat had you swooning for your husband all over again. You waddled behind him slowly, happy to watch him walk away. When you finally arrived at the car, Jake made sure to let you know that he knew exactly what you had been staring at the whole time. Your cheeks were rosy the entire ride home. You sat in the back seat with Aimee, watching her sleep soundly as Jake made the slow drive home.

Every few minutes, Jake would check on the two of you. “How are my girls doin’?” he questioned, not taking his eyes off the road. Another smile lit up your face as her tiny hand wrapped around one of your fingers.

“We’re doing perfect Jake. She’s perfect.” There was nothing but pure awe on your face. In that moment, Jake thought the same about you. You were the light of his life; absolutely perfect just the way you were. He chose not to say anything, smiling softly at the thought of his new family.

A few minutes later, Jake was pulling into the driveway of your home. He hopped out and pulled your door open, helping you out before he grabbed your baby girl’s car seat. She was passed over to you as Jake collected the rest of your belongings from the back seat.

You sucked in a soft breath, grasping your husband's hand as you brought your baby girl into the house for the first time. Aimee slept soundly in her car seat, unaware of the happiness building in your chest. Your family was home.

Together, you and Jake brought her up to the cozy nursery. Jake had spent weeks putting it together, dragging Bradley and Bob in at various times to help him assemble the furniture. The sight of three large aviators bent over pieces of a crib in a pretty pink room made you giggle more than once. As Jake emptied the contents of the hospital bag onto the changing table, you set Aimee softly in her crib. One of the tips that the nurses gave you was that when the baby was sleeping, you should be sleeping. After the exhausting few days you’d had, you certainly weren’t one to disagree.

Seeing that Aimee was peacefully asleep in her crib, you and Jake grabbed the baby monitor and headed down the hall toward your room. Your husband pushed the door open for you, chuckling quietly as you flopped onto the bed. You offered him a tired grin.

Mirroring your smile, Jake set the monitor on the dresser and walked toward the bed. “Hey there, pretty girl,” There was a loving look in his eyes as he climbed onto the bed beside you. His fingers began to trace delicate patterns into the soft skin of your stomach. “How’s my beautiful wife doing?”

Offering him another smile as your eyes fluttered closed. “I’m doing amazing Jake,” You whispered, “Thank you so much.” You squeezed his hand softly. Even though you didn’t directly say it, Jake knew exactly what you were thanking him for. You may have not been able to see it with your eyes closed, but the smile on his face showed exactly how much he loved you. He didn’t have to respond; you knew he would do anything for his girls.

A/n: Thank you for reading! Requests are open! I’ll start tagging people again once I start writing more <3

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wheneclipsefalls · 3 months

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Little Gift- Scramble

Pairing: Adult Dark Neteyam x Human Fem Reader

Previous Part

Masterlist AO3

Gorgeous Adult Neteyam pic by @cinetrix2

Summary: It's time for you to understand the gravity of your situation.

Warnings: dubcon/non con, dark material read at your own risk MDNI, oral, explicit, alien x human, kidnapping, aged up Neteyam, aged up Lo'ak, slight degradation, angst, bondage, etc. (not exhaustive)

A/N: Can't thank you all enough for the support and buzz that this little series has gotten! Love you, pookies<3 Enjoy!

“Don’t look down. Don’t look down.” You whisper shakily.

Heights have never been your forte and neither has climbing but you are mere feet away from reaching where Neteyam has tied the knot to your leash. You can’t give up now. Your legs tremble and arms shake as you clamp around the tree trunk.

It’s ok. Everything is ok. Worst case scenario you fall down and land back in the kelku.

That is, if you fall to the right.

The left on the other hand…

You make the mistake of glancing down to see the vast distance between you and the forest floor. It doesn’t help that the thick forest canopy obscures your vision, letting your imagination run wild in guessing how far down the ground really is. You rest your forehead against the trunk and shut your eyes.

Breath in.

Breathe out.

One move at a time. That’s all that matters.

Finally wrangling the courage to climb further once more you carefully reach for the next branch and scoot yourself upwards. The thick bark scuffs your smooth skin and your hands are sure to already have blisters and slivers, but you are so close.

“Out of curiosity, if you somehow do manage to get that thing untied. What is your next move?”

You gasp, branch almost slipping from your grip in wake of being startled.

“You’ve been alone for what? Thirty minutes? And you still haven’t made it up a few meters. How do you expect to scale down several stories before Neteyam returns?” Lo’ak crosses his arms, hip popped and eyebrows raised.

“I…I was just…”

“No need to waste my time trying to suggest otherwise. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Neteyam did say you are quite the handful.” He sprawls across the kelku floor, arms folded back to keep him sitting upright while his legs spread leisurely. “Lucky me.”

“You…you are staying?” You voice quivers as a cramp starts to tighten one calf. This idea is looking more ridiculous by the second.

“Neteyam is convinced you need someone to check up on you while he is away. Hate to admit when he is right but then again here you are swinging over death in under an hour.”

Your arms begin to shake as every muscle locks frozen in place. Lo’ak lounges as your head spins in every which direction.

Instinct takes over before you can stop it and suddenly you are racing to reach for the next branch. Body practically flinging itself upwards, your ascent is messy and frantic. Your adrenaline is powered by one fact: you are running out of time. The RDA return home within a few days and Neteyam seldom leaves you alone.

So what if he sends his little brother to play babysitter?

It’s better odds than being smothered in the Olo’eyktan’s embrace all day.

A small branch snaps beneath your right foot. Stomach lurching to your throat you prepare for the massive fall ahead. You catch only a few feet of air before crashing into a hard chest. Lo’ak chuckles at your shrieks as he tucks you under his arm and easily scales down the tree.

He may have saved your life but you shoot him with a scathing look as he sets you down on the the woven floor.

“You’re welcome.” He snorts, returning to his lounged position.

The irony taste of blood erupts over your tongue when your teeth finally break skin.

You want to hate him. You do hate him. He laughs and watches your nightmare with a half amused grin ,but you need to be smart.

“Thank you.” You whisper. He simply shrugs and waves it off. “I’ve just been so scared.” This time you purposefully bite your bottom lip, looking up at him through thick lashes. It’s easy to let tears create a cloud over your eyes. “I want to go home.”

His reaction is far from the one you hope.

A harsh laugh rumbles in his chest as he shakes his head.

“Oh yes it must be so hard to be away from those comforting steel walls and mushy frozen meals.” He scoffs as if it is the most ridiculous thing he has ever heard. It hurts and for some reason you feel the need to defend your desires.

“I wasn’t talking about Bridgehead, asshole! Or have you forgotten they are returning to Earth within the week?”

“Cause that is so much better.” Lo’ak sneers.

“You don’t know what you are talking about-”

“No you don’t know what you are talking about. What do you think is back on that dying planet? Maybe they’ve shown you some shiny pictures back in your steel cage but the reveal is deeply disappointing.” He rolls his eyes, hands reaching back to tie his hair.

“How would you know? You’ve never been!”

“Yes and neither have you but unlike you I have reliable witnesses.”

Your nails create half moons in your palm as they ball into fists. The heat from your cheeks has now traveled to the tips of your ears. Screw the size difference, you are ready to knock him on his ass.

You can’t though and not just because your strength is no match for his own. Getting riled up by your captor’s brother is a waste of time and Neteyam never said when he would be back. Forcing your features to soften you left out a shaky sigh.

“I don’t need you to understand but…what would it hurt to help me? You could tell him you found the kelku empty. That’s all I’m asking.” You shuffle onto your knees, swallowing your pride as you prepare to beg.

“What would it hurt? A lot actually. Every minute he spends with you is another that I get him off my ass. Besides, when Neteyam isn’t happy no one is happy.”

“He is Olo’eyktan! Half of the women in your village must be chasing him down. His fascination with me is sure to be replaced by another within the week.” You argue, fidgeting with the pink ribbon Neteyam had tied around your neck. The knot of the bow is extra tight this time, no doubt a ploy to get you to stop ripping it off.

“Oh yes, six months of obsession gone in a week.”

Your mouth runs dry.

“Six months?”

For the first time Lo’ak’s interest is peaked. His tail stills and large ears fold forward.

“Oh, you have no idea what you have gotten yourself into, do you?” He shakes his head, tongue clicking softly. “You poor thing,” he says but the words are anything but sympathetic.

“Six months, how…. But I didn’t even….”

“Did you think that the RDA picked you from a lineup and Neteyam just happily handed over that unobtanium?”

It sounds ridiculous coming from Lo’ak’s mouth now but what else were you meant to believe? You’ve never met Neteyam before. The entire situation has bizarre written all over it. What is one more offbeat detail?

“He’s been talking about you for months, tawtute. Been driving me crazy actually.”

Unease sinks its claws into you.

“From what I understand, he had your schedule down. Those little nature walks you take daily just outside the base? Did you really think a defenseless human like you would have survived Pandora’s forest for that long without a protector?”

“He’s been watching me.” The thought slips from your lips without permission but Lo’ak nods anyways.

The past few months replay in your mind’s eyes. All those times you had been ecstatic to have some time alone in the fresh air. Every little conversation you had with yourself as you walked, running through checklists and even giving yourself reassuring words after a hard day. How many of those times had he been there?

Oh God, all those times the heat had been too much and you had gone skinny dipping!

Was that time ever sacred? Had he truly been watching from the sidelines this whole time with you none the wiser? And yet, that is the scariest realization.

You had no idea.

It brings into focus the horrible juxtaposition between you two.

He had watched you through the greenery easily while you had not a single inkling of being in another’s presence. And if Lo’ak’s words are anything to go off of, you too had been oblivious as he kept other predators at bay.

No wonder he talks to you like a naive child.

Your lungs seize, squeezing the air from them until it’s difficult to breathe. For a moment you look around for your mask, panicked as you assume that the serum for the day has somehow run out early. However one shaky breath in shows that this has nothing to do with carbon dioxide levels and everything to do with the panic that holds you hostage.

Six months.

Six months!

What had he seen? Was it only your walks through the forest or had there been more? How did you spark his interest in the first place? Among hundreds of soldiers and scientists you had never stood out as anyone extraordinary. Having been born on this planet has put you in the strained position of having little to no role, and yet you’ve somehow drawn the attention of the one person that has the power to turn your life inside out.

How much does he know about you?

Lo’ak clears his throat, snapping you out of your spiral.

“You’re not going to faint are you? Cause I really don’t want to be blamed for that one.”

Sweat beads at your temple and your body trembles as your knees tuck to your chin. You can’t necessarily blame Lo’ak for being concerned, not when your entire world is spinning around you.

“Look, I’m going to give you some advice simply because you look like you need it.” He says, propping one knee up. “Stop fighting it. Forget about that hell hole you lived in. Forget about that damned planet and take advantage of what you have here. Save yourself some time and start listening to my brother. If you’re waiting for him to give out, you’ll be waiting forever.”

You don’t answer. There are too many things to say. Too many things to turn over in your head, enough to bloom a pounding headache.

Horns sound through the forest, followed by distant Na’vi calls in response.

Neteyam’s back.

Lo’ak gently pats your leg like you’re old friends. “Good talk.” He says before standing up. You stop him before he leaves though.

“Wait you….you aren’t going to tell him though, right? About…earlier?”

A wide grin spreads across his face.

“Neteyam’s right, you are adorable.”

And with that, Lo’ak is gone.

“I’m sorry!” You whine, legs shaking over Neteyam’s shoulders.

Pleasure shoots through you like lightning but as orgasm after orgasm is pulled from your weeping pussy, his flicking tongue brings a sharp edge. You’ve lost count at this point of how many times your climax has spread over his smirking lips. If this continues any longer you are sure your body will give out.

“Hold still.” He firmly rasps against your clit.

Although those muscular arms are wrapped around your thighs, you know he could hold them tighter. But instead Neteyam gives just enough space for you to wiggle and squirm desperately. It’s clear he enjoys the struggle.

“No more!” You screech, roughly pushing at the top of his head. He doesn’t so much as flinch. Instead, his tongue travels down to gently tease at your opening. When it pushes inside of your clenching pussy the stretch is enough to make you gasp. It’s not the first time and you know it won’t be the last but over the past few days he has at least let you catch a reprieve between rounds.

He pulls back, catching his breath with a dopey grin.

“So sweet, little gift.” He wastes no time in diving back in, but there is little that can be done about it as you are pushed up against the wall and sat on his shoulders. Your fingers tangle into his braids, holding on for dear life. Nine feet suddenly feels so much higher than you remember.

He attacks your overstimulated cunt ferociously, giving no heed to your shaking body or wild pleas. His mouth opens to encompass your entire pussy, lips creating a seal around the area as he sucks harshly. It’s beyond anything you have ever experienced with human men and there are no resources in your arsenal to prepare you for the intense feeling.

“I can’t I can’t IcanticantIcant.” The words flow from your lips into a tangled mess and Neteyam’s tongue juts out to tap that bundle of nerves rapidly. The sound that comes from you is one you do not recognize. His ears perk up in response, tail lashing back and forth.

If anything your sounds egg him on, tongue thrashing desperately and massaging every crevice of sensitive area between your folds. The heat is so much that you feel as if your body will ricket apart into pieces and yet the desire never wains. Although the sensory overload is painful, you can’t stop your hips from thrusting back against his soaked lips.

Delight dances in his wide golden orbs as he sneaks a glance up at you.

You shut them tight in response.

It’s the way he looks at you that feels more intimate than anything else.

Even more personal than the hands that explore your body freely or the toned Na’vi form that presses you into the hammock at night.

His gaze is also the one thing you can semi avoid, at least for now.

When his nails reach back to dig into your plush cheeks and his tongue enters you once more another climax rockets through you. Neteyam’s flat nose nudges at your clit fiercely while he continues to stretch you out. The pain and pleasure bleed into one another but all you know is that it’s overwhelming.

Blood pounding so hard at your ears you barely make out those pathetic sounds coming from your lips.

Neteyam doesn’t stop until you are yanking at his hair and tears stream down your cheeks.

He leans back to admire his handy work, chin shimmering with your sweet juices. Thumb gently sliding down your puffy lips he hums in satisfaction. You’re absolutely debauched. You know that. There is no need to look down in order to know that between your thighs is a sticky mess.

“That will do, I think.” He murmurs and your head leans back against the wall to catch your breath.

Relief is cut short however when you are suddenly slid down his body and manhandled to have your legs wrapped around his narrow waist. He smiles at your little shriek and the way you cling to his shoulders.

“Mawey, tiyawn.”

“Teyam, I’m tired.”

“I know, but a good pet takes her punishment first.”

Your heart lurches.

“But I thought-”

The words morph into a gasp when one long finger probes at your entrance. Collecting the leaking slick and cum there, Neteyam uses that to glide into your still overstimulated pussy. Bucking to get out or range only causes you to hit the kelku post and incidentally sink that finger in deeper. You cry out at the stretch, even with the preparation it feels like so much more than you could imagine one finger to be.

“That’s it, little gift. Just relax. Take it all.” And by some insane miracle you manage to take him down to the last knuckle.

“I was planning on letting you adjust to just my tongue for a while but after this morning’s…events, I think we need to quicken your training. Don’t you think, pet?”

Nothing but a silent scream comes from your parted lips. And you most definitely fail to give a response when that digit curls to find its target easily. Neteyam doesn’t seem to mind.

“Although, I admit I am partly to blame. I should’ve known better than to leave you alone. Should’ve known my little gift would miss me.” He purrs, craning his neck down to run his nose along your shoulder and throat.

That slippery digit pulls out but only to have the tip of another join it at your entrance. On instinct you brace yourself but Netyeam whispers sweet nothings into your ear, promising a reward if you just relax for him. Before you know it he is using both to scissor you open.

“It's a learning process for both of us.” Neteyam casually sighs, as if he doesn’t have two fingers tearing you apart from inside as your brain cells fry to ash. At this point he may as well be talking to himself.

His tail slinks around your waist as he adds a third finger slowly.

“But don’t worry, pet.” They massage at your sweet spot sinfully until you are shaking like a leaf. “I’d never give up on you.” And those are surely the scariest words Neteyam has ever said and yet their full magnitude can’t hit you now with the state you’re in.

He kisses your cheek softly before starting a steady pace in and out of your tight pussy.

“T-tey tey ah Teyam.” You stutter out, not sure how or what you are asking for but feeling like you need to at least try.

“Mawey, pet.” He says simply, eyes trained on where his slick fingers disappear into your heat.

The stretch and pleasure coalesce together along with your trembling nerves until you can not differentiate clearly between the various sensations. Your cheeks are wet with tears and eyes staring in a daze up at him as little whimpers rise occasionally.

“Fuck, this tiny pussy is squeezing my fingers so well.”

You collapse against him, cheek pressed against his collarbone as he continues to hold your weight with one arm.

“Stay awake, oeyӓ tiyawn.”

You hardly listen as you’re carried to the hammock and laid down. Painfully slow, his fingers dip from your tight cunt and your body sags at the loss.

“Almost done.”

That catches your attention, intuition sparking as you lazily watch Neteyam riffle through a bag.

“Got something special for your training. To start it at least.”

The plastic strange object looks small in his big hands but when he brings it to rest on your stomach the size makes your eyes bulge.

You’re wide awake now.

“Neteyam no, please! I don’t think I can I-I”

“It’s just a small one, little gift. Have to get you stretched out somehow if you ever hope to take me.” He smirks, squeezing your right thigh for comfort.

“No no but I-I can’t because….because I-I…..I’ve never used toys before.” The lie is a knee jerk reaction and one not elegantly delivered.

It earns you a dark look, the Olo’eyktan’s lips turning downward. Suddenly your face is caught in his hand, cheeks squishing beneath his fingers.

“Oh really? And what would you call that pink toy you love so much?”

Oh God. When did he see that?

How did he see that?

How much of your life has been observed by this man?

“I don’t appreciate being lied to. I also don’t appreciate coming home to have my brother tell me my tiyawn almost killed herself falling out of a tree today. Or seeing how your misbehavior has marked up my property.” He gestures to the scuffs and scrapes along your inner thighs. “Should we really be adding another infraction to the list today?”

Your head is shaking before he even finishes.

“I didn’t think so.” He sighs. “Now be a good girl and spread those pretty legs.” You obey as he pulls you to the edge of the hammock, legs dangling over the side.

With some time and patience the toy slowly slips inside of you inch by inch. In some ways it's smaller than Neteyam’s three fingers but it’s also plastic and cold. Not nearly as pleasurable as his warmth.

“There we go.” He praises once it is seated all the way inside. “So pretty.” He kisses right over your filled pussy and you shiver.

Settling into bed is more difficult than usual. It’s expected to have his larger body completely wrapped around you, making sure there is no room for escape but now every time you squirm to get comfortable the toy shifts inside of you.

“Stop moving, tiyawn. It’s been a long day.” He throws one leg over your hips for good measure. “Be a good girl and I’ll let you sleep with it off.”

Off?

You crane your neck to face him and see that there is a tiny remote grasped between his fingers. Your eyes widen, movements ceasing immediately. Neteyam smiles into your hair whispering sweet nothings until his voice starts to become lazy with sleep.

Eventually his breaths deepen while you pout silently in the dark. The toy is pressing at that bundle of nerves again but when you shuffle slightly the Olo’eyktan lets out a deep groan and pulls you flush against him.

More to come! If you enjoyed please don't be afraid to comment, reblog, or even send an anonymous ask with your thoughts. Feedback truly means the world to me and motivates me to keep writing and updating.

More of Little Gift to come;)

Taglist: @pandoraslxna @neteyamssyulang @tallulah477 @criticallybella @sullybrothersmate @lilghostiequinni @chershire23 @lala-1516 @teyamshuman @yawnetu @puddle-nerd @ratchetprime211 @avatargirly @chocolatechocobo91 @kariz-stark @bunnscoffe @avatarwifey @universal-s1ut @witchsprit @heart-an0n @riri-is-a-girlie @rivatar @minnory @ikeyniofthetayrangi @ilovehobi101 @spicymayyo @v4mp1rr3 @nilsavatar @bambithewriter @quicktosimp @itchaboi-itchyboy

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diejager · 5 months

Note

I can request yandere! König and yandere Ghost?

She used to be a soldier before she was kidnapped by them, so she uses what she learned to beat them and escape from that room she was locked in.

Although she can't find the exit

No Escape Cw: DARKFIC, kidnapping, yandere, possessive behaviour, obsessiveness, nonconsensual drugging, basement wife, tell me if I missed any.

You learned that compliance was a better choice in this situation, having fought tooth an d nail against them only to be punished and had your privileges taken away from you. You started in the basement, waking up confused and disorientated, throat dry and head heavy from the substance König and Ghost used to drug you. You trusted Ghost, having worked with him so often - too many to count on both your hands and feet - and learned to put your trust in him to watch your back and protect you.

You, however, couldn’t say the same about König, you didn’t trust him, he was the enemy, someone you and Ghost had fought so many times, shot and wounded time and time again —only for him to come back stronger, more determined and more dangerous. Yet they worked effortlessly together rather than fight on every decision, they’d work through their differences, barked and fought but they clung to the thought of having you to themselves. It was the driving force behind their cooperation.

They took you, locked you away in the darkness of a home in Austria (an idea they both agreed to, Austria was farther and calmer, less populated and you wouldn’t be able to get help if you escaped, a stranger to the country’s spoken language) until they deemed you compliant enough to let out. You threw snide remarks, leering comments and a disrespectful and bratty attitude to push the act, to have them believe you weren’t thinking of playing them.

You were punished for every act of noncompliance, Ghost was cruel but he didn’t beat you, he used words and training —dog training, to train the disobedient mutt out of you. He did just enough to stop you from always biting, but never too much that you lose your feistiness, the aspect that made keeping you interesting and fun. König was more direct, holding you down and making you listen to him, he went without beating or training you. He had firm hands and he knew how to use them, praising you whenever you did something well and giving you privileges like going to the bathroom, showering alone, taking a walk outside or sleep in a bed.

Compliance had worked so far, they were lost to the domesticity of having a soldier turned housewife cook for them, care for them and give yourself to them. They had grown so used to having you at their beck and call, giving you whatever you wanted: books, food, a bed, a Tv, but never your freedom. That was something you had to work harder for, to pull them deeper into the delusion of your love and subservience towards them. You went unsupervised for long periods of time at home, leaving the doors locked and windows shut whenever they left.

And today seemed like the right time to move, you’d been warned by Ghost that they would be gone for a while for a joint mission (SpecGru and KorTac had somehow formed an impossible alliance), leaving you home alone with enough food and ressources to last a year. You watched them leave, their cars driving out in the distance and disappearing behind the trees once they turned the corner. You waited an hour, and hour of patience in case they came back for an emergency or because something in the plan changed, but you didn’t hear the tell-tale sound of car engines or the imposing steps up the porch.

You scoured the house, eyes roving over every little crevice and hands feeling the walls for any weaknesses. The windows were bolted shut and the grates made of hardened iron that were simply too sturdy for you to cut through without the right equipment, and the doors were locked from the outside, both men holding the only copy of the key. You wanted to keep forcibly unlocking the door as a last ditch effort because it would take more effort than needed to pry it open. So you searched the house, up the attic and down the basement, and their individual offices, who unfortunately had every drawer locked with a master key.

As you broke apart a few pins to make a lock pick, you heard two cars drive up the driveway, the loud rev of the engine and the angered slam of a door. You cursed, swiftly moving down the stairs and into the hidden corner of your reading spot, hidden by the arch between the indoor porch and the kitchen, away from the entrance’s sight. You hadn’t prepared for them to come back home —a mistake. You’d picked a random book, flipping through the pages and acting as if you spend the time reading, hoping that they wouldn’t grow suspicious.

“Come here, love,” there’s a dark edge in his done, a deep and angered growl. “Now.”

They knew. Not only were you too late, but you were caught as well. You’d lose all your freedom, your privileges and your soft affection, replacing them with the cold and damp air of the lonely basement. You bit your trembling lip, stopping yourself from spitting at them and worsen your punishment. You felt their disappointing and wrathful gaze without looking at them, it oozed off their broad shoulders in waves.

“You know what you’ve done, ja, Bärchen?” König sounded more disappointed than mad, his tone on the edge of condescension, his blue eyes dimmed with sorrow.

Ghost was quick to grab you, handling you roughly against his chest, gear and vest scrapping your skin. He had you down the basement stairs and chained to the mattress in seconds, a leather collar wrapped around your neck. He scruffed you, pushing your nose into the musky bed and thin sheet of your new room, glaring down at you with deep browns, his chest puffed with angered breaths and throat rumbled with menacing growls.

“You’re stayin’ here until we see you’ve learned your lesson.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @havoc973 @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @kaelysia @notspiders

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astupidweeb69 · 2 months

Note

hello!! I am kinda nervous to write this bc I absolutely love your writing and the way you portray Toby is just so real. I love how you make him both a loser and a force of nature, like just bc he has no rizz doesn't mean he can't do anything lol. But I was lowkey thinking about your stories the other day and like, what if Y/N also had some screws loose? Like he pops up at her house covered in the blood of some guy who wouldn't leave her alone and instead of calling the police like a smart person she's just like: " 😳 omg you did this for me??" I know it's unrealistic and silly but it's also kind of interesting???

Ticci Toby x Violent! Reader

Toby with an unhinged reader? Well - there's a recipe for disaster lmao.

I know I said I'm not taking requests but this ended up becoming a scenario. I just had some inspo - hope this is what you were looking for! Because the reader isn't submissive? Idk

Y/N has some messed-up thoughts and there are mentions of violence under the cut!:

The reader I imagine in this case would have only seen how cringey Toby is - thinking he was just a creepy guy who's taken a liking to them and would avoid him at all costs. Probably up until this point assume that he's a wimp (Toby would initially try his best to seem weaker and unassuming when he approaches the person he likes)

The scenario I imagine is that Y/N grew up around conflict, and is fully comfortable around violence, even throwing a few punches themselves here and there. Maybe ended up in Juvie when they were younger and now works in some retail job - something where they regularly interact with the general public.

A customer tries to hit on Y/N when Toby's there - big mistake.

But Toby doesn't say anything at first.

He doesn't have to.

Y/N immediately shuts the customer down. But the guy doesn't let up. Curses are thrown back and forth, Y/N's wrist is grabbed.

He touched you.

Toby doesn't like that. Not one bit.

You get reprimanded by your boss after you punched the unruly customer in the face.

Luckily they didn't press charges.

You had a bit of an edge, from your surly demeanor and fucked sense of humor, but Toby had no idea you'd do that.

Kind of turned him on. He knew he picked you for a reason.

But alas, that was the extent of your revenge. You already had a record of aggravated assault and you didn't need another one added to the list.

Luckily for you that scrawny, lanky boy who always stared at you when he came in had a plan in motion.

Late at night, a knock on the door wakes you up from a nap on the couch. Of course, you look through the peephole first before answering.

Red.

Everything is red.

Only until you hear a familiar voice pipe up do you realize who it is.

Toby.

The blood covered so much of his face it was hard to point out who he was at first.

He speaks to you through the door, somehow already knowing you're there.

And he tells you what he did.

It takes a moment for you to process all the grizzly details, the way he followed the man, cornered him in an alley, and beat him so hard he'd pretty sure he cracked his skull on the brick wall.

He sounded giddy about it. Gleeful.

He was far from the loser you thought he was.

And you liked it.

Liked that he did that for you.

After all, in your head, hurting someone for someone else was the greatest form of love. It was the kind of devotion you'd always dreamed of from a partner.

You open the door.

Toby is surprised, but soon sees a look on your face he recognized. The kind of expression of sick joy and arousal that comes with blood lust.

You're blushing too. Blushing for him.

Everything was finally coming together perfectly, and once you let him into your home, he's never going to leave.

The relationship would start right off the bat. Toby is one to rush things.

It's all to claim you. Both mentally and physically. So you're attached to the hip pretty much. Expect a lot of PDA (Toby does not care who sees lol)

And a reader who's fully on board?

Yeah you're going to bring out the worst in each other. He'll encourage you to do more crimes, to get bloodier, to join him.

It would be a very bad situation for everyone involved.

But especially for anyone unfortunate enough to cross the paths of you two lovebirds.

#creepypasta #ticci toby #ticci toby x reader #fanfiction #i got mail!#my thoughts #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta scenarios #creepypasta x reader #yandere ticci toby x reader #tobyposting #ticci toby headcanons #yandere ticci toby #ticci toby x you

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tange-my-rine · 2 months

Text

borrow some sugar || Tangerine × gn!reader

Summary: You were living in the city, on your own. It was your dream though, you'd known it was far from home but you needed the space. Well, wanted the space. Didn't mean it wasn't lonely. The one time you actually met your neighbor, of course, you put your literal whole life in danger.

TW: blood, guns, murder, threats, cursing (it's Tangerine), protective!Tangerine (eventually), kidnapping, threats, and all things bullet train.

[[A/N: love a good normal person × Tangerine, and this is the epitome of that. Except you get way too wrapped up in it.]]

"Yeah, I know," you echoed out, fetching your keys out of your pocket -mindlessly walking through the hallway, "-I'm always safe, you know that."

Pressing your phone onto your shoulder, you heard a sort of bang -a heavy thud really, on the wall.

You furrowed your brows, the neighbor on that side was usually quiet. Like unusually quiet. You'd seen him, maybe once or twice in the hallway -he'd never said a word to you. Always wearing a suit and a super serious face, you'd assumed he was some sort of corporate worker with insane hours.

"Look," you spoke, unlocking your handle, "-I have to go, but I'll call you back tomorrow. I'm home already."

Slipping into your apartment, you sighed, pushing your phone into your pocket, dropping your keys, and taking off your shoes by the door. With the familiar thrum of your fridge, you mindlessly wander up to your couch and drop your bag.

It had been a terrible day at work, your boss was... well, your boss. And your work was exhausting, your feet hurt and your brain was working on the migraine of the century-

You just wanted to eat and watch your comfort TV show and turn your brain off -for an hour, at least. If not for the last few hours before you went to sleep, that was dream case scenario. Finally, when your brain was succumbing to the buzz of the voices, your eyes drifting shut, and the couch seemed so fluffy, there was a noise.

At first, you ignored it -figured it was your brain or something out in the hallway.

But then, it came back -a clear, harsh knock.

'2:30 am,' flashed across your screen as you looked at it, and then again, seriously, you thought you imagined it. Because who would that be?

You were fully awake now, leaning up on your couch, staring at your door -waiting, testing if it was real.

Knock.

Huh, you stood up -wiping at your eyes, and slowly slinking to the door.

"Hello?"

You don't know what you expected, but it certainly wasn't what you saw.

It was your neighbor, sweaty with ripped clothes (a suit, you think) -was he ever in anything else? His eyes were lidded, nose bleeding, it stained his mustache, and you were pretty sure there was a knife in his shoulder-

"You 'ave any first aid?" He had an accent, a crazy accent that somehow suited him but you didn't expect at all.

"Are you-" you were in disbelief, "-Are you okay?"

He paused, before retorting -frankly, "Did you hear a fuckin' word I said, love?"

"Sorry, sorry," you swallowed, beckoning him inside, "-I think I have one in my bathroom. Just- Just sit at the counter."

"Right, thanks."

You weren't even sure your feet were touching the ground at this point, but still, you were quick -sifting through your cabinets.

A man is bleeding out in my kitchen, your brain panged, -a man is bleeding out in my kitchen.

Blinking, you mindlessly -in an entirely different way now- but directly made your way to the kitchen. A kit in your hand, you pinched yourself for a moment -this would be one weird fucking dream.

As you said, the man sat on a stool -blood dripping down onto your tile. You briskly wondered how to get that out, before sliding all the supplies across the countertop -the clatter filling the quiet air.

Pulling yourself onto the stool opposite him, you licked across your lips -fidgeting with some packaging.

"You couldn't just borrow some sugar?" you mumbled, taking out an alcohol wipe.

"What?" He furrowed his eyebrows, frown still present on his lips -it seemed like it stayed there.

"This-" you motioned to him, "-is the first time we've met. You couldn't do a normal neighbor thing? Like borrow sugar-"

"Sorry, love," he rolled his eyes, "-I'll think of it fuckin' next time, yeah?"

"You should," you scoffed, "-I don't think every neighbor would appreciate bloodstains."

"And you do?"

"No," you stressed out, dabbing at a cut along his cheek -not the worst one but the first one you could handle right now, "-I am barely awake right now, and I'm half convinced you aren't even real-"

"Very real," he tsked, less biting this time.

You digested that information, swallowing dryly. A man, in some business, was on your stool, bleeding.

"Honest question," You pursed your lips, before focusing on another cut above his eyebrow. You were blatantly ignoring the knife, you literally had no idea-

"Go ahead," he huffed out, breaths puffing out of his chest.

"How the hell did you get stabbed?"

The man paused, thinking over his answer (why did he have to think?), "Break-in?"

You raised an eyebrow, tossing out the wipe, "You sure about that answer?"

"Better if ya didn't know, love," he mended -blue eyes slinking over your kitchen.

You hummed, picking through the material -thank god you took that sewing class, "Kind of expected that, mysterious suited neighbor."

"Tangerine."

You flicked up your eyes, confused, "Is that... Is that your safeword, or...?"

"Fuckin' hell," he sighed, using a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, "-'s my name."

"Your name?" you questioned, tone raising.

"My brother-" he began before shaking his head -solidly, "-Doesn't fuckin matter, are ya gonna get to the knife wound or?"

"Listen," you spoke -a little pressed, "-I'm not one to stitch up wounds, Tangerine. I have to remember my sewing class-"

"You gonna stitch up my fuckin' shirt then, love?"

"Oh my god," you exhaled through your nose, "-no wonder you had to come to a stranger."

He opened his mouth -eager to bite back, but you promptly interrupted him.

"I have no experience," you said, taking the knife handle into your hand, "-but I'm pretty sure this is going to hurt like hell."

"Lucky for you, love," he spoke through labored breaths -wrapping his fingers around yours, "-I'm very fuckin' experienced."

And then without hesitation, he tugged it out.

The next few moments were bloody and unreal to you -your hands working quickly but your brain significantly falling behind. You could cross 'stitching up a wound on a handsome man' off your bucket list if it was ever even on there.

Now, you sat on the stool -hands sticky red, and your shirt (one of your better pjs, sadly) stained just the same. With a roll of bandages, you wrapped his shoulder with tedious little movements -eyes focused only on the skin. Only looking up when you'd tied it off, mind finally settling.

"Is that everything?" You asked, careful to not put your hands anywhere except your shirt.

"Yeah," he spoke, softer, "-just some bruisin', I think."

"Let me get you some peas," you echoed, sliding down from your stool -steps slow, you were just tired.

He didn't speak a word, as you dug through your freezer -finding one at the very bottom, of course.

You extended your hand, the cold sensation keeping you up -aware. Right now, your brain was in overdrive, probably ever since he'd shown up at your door, and your body merely just followed behind.

He shifted, grabbing it from you -you saw a kiss of a tattoo that you were curious about but not enough to ask. Your eyes sunk along his shirt, which was not a shirt anymore, all bloodstained and ripped up.

Before you could stop it, you were asking, "Do you need new clothes?"

Tangerine paused, looking at you like you grew a third head. You were past that point, you had his literal blood on your hands -there was no need to be shy now.

"'Had a boyfriend about your build," you clarified, "-I never gave him back like 10 shirts, so-"

"10?" He interrupted and you thought you might've seen a smile quirk onto his lips.

"He smelled good," you offered, before spinning to the kitchen and proceeding to scrub your hands with no hesitation, "-You want one or not?"

"Yeah," he sighed out, a little awkwardly, "-Yeah, thanks."

"While I'm at it," you spoke over your shoulder, "-do you need a place to stay?"

He pursed his lips, hand pushed into the peas against his ribs -you imagined it would be a big bruise in the morning.

"I'm pretty sure whatever happened," you emphasized, "-left a mess. I have a couch if you need it."

"Bein' awfully fuckin' nice to a stranger," he hummed, eyes tired.

"I figured you would've killed me way earlier," you remarked, finally drying them on a nearby towel, "'Had some good opportunities."

He smiled then, you actually saw it with your own two eyes -you almost thought you were hallucinating. His head tilting back, as his shoulder pressed against your counter -he looked kind of like a painting, all twisted angles and sharp jaw.

"What's yours?"

You furrowed your eyebrows, "My what?"

"Your name, love," he answered, soft and attentive -much different than before (you kind of thought he might've lost too much blood).

"You wanna know that now?" You laughed, but even still you told him -there was something about him that made you feel at ease. He really shouldn't have.

He stayed that night, cozied up in your ex-boyfriend's shirt (which he looked surprisingly good in) and freshly showered. You didn't see him when you woke up that morning, and you didn't know why you had expected it.

A few weeks go by, and you were pretty sure that he moved out. Which, in retrospect, made sense, even still something in you felt kinda disappointed. He was the first person you'd actually talked to in months.

Coworkers didn't count.

You shook your head, he was literally covered in blood. In a business he couldn't talk about, and you missed him? You were officially losing your mind.

"Stupid," you muttered, eyes dipping across the TV -some sort of cheesy romcom that you'd never seen before in your life but still felt nostalgic to watch. It wasn't the worst thing you'd ever seen.

Good enough to sit and eat your favorite meal to, it was interesting enough to keep you awake.

When you finally slinked off to bed, and tossed into your fluffy comforter and soft pillows, you were exhausted. Far too exhausted to stay awake any longer. So, you didn't.

The sun was creeping through your window when you woke up, but not a morning sun -a too early sun. You groaned, looking to your phone and seeing without a doubt, it was 4:15 am. At first, you didn't know why you'd woken up so early but then you heard it.

A knock.

Initially, you were not going to move because it was warm here and you were tired.

But then you thought about if it was him, and if in the morning you'd see him dead on your doorstep. That would be suspicious, and you'd probably end up in jail-

You sighed, pulling yourself out of the bed and pattering to the door. And when you swung it open, you were met with familiar blue eyes.

Before you could stop it, you asked, "Don't you have any friends?"

He barked out a laugh -chuckle really, but something in him seemed nervous (like he wasn't sure if he should have come), "Lovely to see you too, love."

"Right," you agreed, before shuffling to the side and letting him in. He relaxed ever-so-slightly.

The first thing you noticed was a split on his forehead, just a cut -it wouldn't need any stitches (thank god, these pajamas were your favorite), and then you dipped to his clothes which were actually in tack. It was a blue suit, really complimented his eyes, and you wondered distantly if he did that on purpose. He seemed the type.

His pants though were dirty, and you could see him limping -only slightly. He was definitely not in as bad as shape as before though; you really wondered why he was here.

"Sit," you motioned to the stool and disappeared into your bathroom.

You got much of the same things and climbed onto the stool beside him, eyes sweeping across his face. Now that you were closer, you could see little cuts along his skin -teeny tiny.

"Glass bottle," he offered before you could say anything.

You hummed, nonchalantly, "Coulda guessed."

Your brain was numb at the moment, still sleepy and you once again thought this might've been a hallucination. He was handsome after all, and you did daydream about handsome men so it definitely could be. And you guessed you could have a saviour thing-

You stopped your train of thought, interrupting the silence as you dabbed at his forehead, "You know I'm not a doctor, right?"

He spoke, frankly, "You talked about a sewing class when you needed to stitch up my bloody fuckin' knife wound, love."

You nodded, fair point, before continuing, "Then why are you here?"

Tangerine paused, and you thought distantly he didn't have an answer, until he answered, "'Hard to do myself."

You thought for a moment, before replying, "What about your brother?"

"Not in the fuckin' country," he answered simply -something frustrated in his tone. But then again, when wasn't there?

"Hmm," you hummed, before rubbing the rest of the tiny cuts -he hissed slightly, "-different job?"

"No," he exhaled, "-just a different... mission."

"'Make it sound like you're a super spy," you laughed, "-but Tangerine isn't a very cool codename."

"Fuck you."

"You are such a joy," you remarked, debating bandaging the top cut, "-Are bandaids too baby for you?"

"Plasters?" He asked.

British, right, you nodded -waving one in your fingers, "Yeah, I think it's all I've got for your wounds. Well, unless you want it wrapped around your head-"

"'s fine," he muttered -low but you still caught it.

"Good," you assured, sticking one to his skin -fingers fluttering along his skin (when was the last time you touched someone?).

"Alright," you leaned back, gathering up your supplies -promptly ignoring the thought, "-all done here. Your leg-"

"Bruised ankle," he clarified -explaining the limp.

"Oh," you spoke, "-I'll get the peas again."

Your eyes dipped to his pants, covered in... something (maybe a mix of blood and dirt?), "And a pair of pants."

He didn't say a word, merely staying seated, as you grabbed the peas -sliding them across your counter. Before stalling slightly, asking-

"Do you even still live here?"

He pressed his lips together, apparently debating telling you -which you were slightly offended by, "No."

"So you're staying?" You asked, neutrally.

"Don't 'ave to," he spoke -not combative, and you really thought you were hallucinating then.

You tilted your head, confused, "You can stay, didn't I say that before?"

He nodded, still so wordless, and you were honestly the most confused you ever could be. Tangerine was quieter, softer, and it was nothing like the time before; he even seemed grateful.

"Honest question," you started.

"Yeah, love?"

"Are you okay?" You decided, careful wording with eye contact strong. You two were kind of close, he left his life in your hands -it was strangely intimate. Your relationship was very confusing, but it felt right to ask.

"Yeah," he answered -furrowing his brows, "-these wounds are fuckin' nothing, love. I have been far, far closer to death."

"No, I mean-" you clarified, "-like mentally. You're being too nice."

He raised his eyebrows, "Too nice?"

"Yeah," you stressed like it was obvious, "-you are like grateful and shit. You've barely cussed at me."

"You saved my fuckin' life, love," he questioned, "-shouldn't I be kind for 'at?"

"You should," you agreed, before contradicting, "-but you don't."

He was quiet then, eyes not meeting yours as his fingers tapped against your counter -seemingly running things over in his mind. It was awhile that he was doing that, but you patiently waited. You suspected opening up at all wasn't his forte.

Finally, still looking around your living room, he mumbled, "'Needed to see someone."

You took him at his word -not dwelling because it really felt like he didn't want to, and the rest of the night was the same. He took the pants, slept on the couch, and was gone in the morning -even though he couldn't have slept more than a few hours.

It started happening pretty regularly after that. You'd fix him up, he'd talk, you'd talk, he'd stay over. You started loosening up, talking about your job, and your life -nothing super specific. He stayed clammed up about his job, but his personal life he did talk about -there wasn't much, but he did talk about his brother.

You felt like that was a big thing.

And then, after quite a few months between visits, you heard a knock at your door. Super late as always, you made your way to it -expectant and in routine. This time though, there were two of them: a familiar Tangerine, and a man with bleached tips and a surprisingly big smile.

"Hello," he smiled and it was very odd -Tangerine hardly smiled, "-lovely to meet ya, I'm Lemon."

You could assume from the name, even still, you felt a little out of place, "Nice to meet you."

"Brother," Tangerine motioned to him -frustration nearly radiating off of him, as he made his way inside.

"Rude," Lemon spoke, "-can I come in?"

"Yeah, of course," you exhaled, letting him in.

Tangerine was relatively well -bruised knuckles, a busted lip, and a mild slice on his collarbone. Lemon was even better with just a black eye, atleast on the surface.

Instead of on the stool, Tangerine beelined straight to the bathroom -slamming the door.

You pursed your lips, turning to Lemon for answers, "What the hell is wrong with him?"

"Annoyed 'im into takin' me 'ere," he answered simply, "-'Wanted to meet who my brother was talkin' about."

He talks about me, you thought for a moment -you fully believed that you were a little miniature part of his life, not something he'd talk about. Especially to his brother.

He must've seen your confusion, because he continued.

"Oh, he never shuts up, love," he laughed, "-'Feel like I already fuckin' know ya."

"Huh," you responded, puzzled.

You thought about it for a second, running over the idea in your mind. What did he have to talk about? Your life? Your boring job, your lack of love life, your favorite cheesy movies? He told that to his brother? His brother with the same unbelievable life?

Why the hell would he do that?

"Please, sit on my couch," you finally spoke, wandering towards the kitchen with intent, "-I'll get you something cold for your eye. And then, I'll deal with the tantrum."

"Thanks," Lemon smiled, tottering off to your TV and without hesitation, popping it on.

He really was very comfortable for not knowing you. How much had Tangerine said?

You stepped into the living room, offering the same peas to Lemon (did you even like peas?) that you often gave Tangerine. He smiled gratefully.

"Do you need any like Tylenol?" You asked, further -eyes swiftly drifting over his eye, it was a nasty sort of yellow, "-that one is a shiner."

"So nice," Lemon hummed, "-no wonder my brother was hoggin' ya. But, I'll be alright, 'ave had worse."

You nodded, before slowly making your way toward the bathroom. Raising your hand, you gently knocked -nothing compared to his on your door in ungodly hours of the morning.

"Tangerine?" You offered.

The door slid open, and your eyes swam over him -taking in his wounds that you had before like in confirmation. He really wasn't hurt bad, not like other times.

Turns out, you didn't care and still wanted to help.

He was leaning against the counter fidgeting with his hands -you think there was blood on his rings. You spoke before you could think about it.

"You want me to wash those?"

He quirked an eyebrow, "What?"

“Your rings,” you clarified, mentally cursing yourself, “-or… do you need help with your wounds?”

He seems to think about it for a moment, eyes dashing across his knuckles -his rings, really. You only watched him for a few moments, half convinced you had dreamt this all up, that maybe he didn��t even exist. Maybe he was a figment of your imagination, he was certainly handsome enough. And his name was Tangerine. This could definitely all be a dream.

“Think I can do the rings myself, love,” he laughed a little -you still weren’t used to that sound, “-and the wounds aren’t ‘at bad.”

You looked at him for a moment, peering along the busted lip and the slice on his collarbone, “You sure? It’s kind of all I do, is it not?”

He smiled, mustache quirking up, “If it makes you feel better, you can clean the cut. But really, love, I’m fine.”

You pursed your lips, taking in his breaths that swirled with yours -the bathroom was small, “I’ll just get you some ice for your knuckles. But if you die from infection, it’s not on me.”

He really laughed at the one, as you spun on your feet back to the kitchen -digging out some other frozen food you hadn’t gotten around to eating yet. With a solid motion, you extended it forward (it was maybe tater tots?), offering it to Tangerine.

“Sorry it’s not the peas,” you spoke, pointing to Lemon -who at the time seemed to be half asleep on the couch, “-your brother stole those.”

“The fuckin’ twat,” he hissed out, a little too personally -you thought it was probably about something far bigger than your frozen peas. He could definitely be that petty though. So, it was possible.

"Woah, somebody's pissy today. Bad day?"

Tangerine seemed to pause, eyes swimming over you -like he was committing you to memory, you briefly wondered why.

"Yeah," he said, solidly -not elaborating. You knew better than to expect him to.

"Well," you spoke, a little awkwardly -not sure where to go, "-I've got... icecream?"

He looked at you like you were insane, but then again, when wasn't he? You said a lot of things without a filter in front of him. Handsome men, what could you say?

"Like..." you clarified, clearing your throat, "-to eat."

"Yeah, love, I fuckin' got 'at part. Why the hell would I want icecream?"

There it was. Tangerine in his true form.

You opened your mouth to respond, but someone else cut you to the chase.

"Sorry," Lemon perked up, "-did you say icecream? Because 'at would be really lovely with this movie, a great pair-"

"Yeah," you turned to him -his presence was a lot warmer (why was his name Lemon?), "-I've only got one flavor, but..."

"Fine with me," Lemon responded, with a big smile, "-brother, are you gettin' any?"

Tangerine huffed out of his nose, genuinely frustrated apparently -much different than a moment ago. What was he even angry about? There was nothing-

"No," he spoke through a snarl.

"Ouch," Lemon put his hands on his heart, replying flatly, "-really hurts, mate. Not used to your shitty behavior at all."

You decidedly left the room (not really it was all open concept), waltzing toward your kitchen with a focus in mind. As you were digging around, trying to find the pint you'd hidden from yourself, you were interrupted.

"Do you..." you turned at his voice, Tangerine, he didn't look very certain of his words, "-Do you need any help, love?"

"Help?" You questioned, raising an eyebrow, "-With icecream?"

"Well," he was suddenly very grumpy -probably embarrassed, "-you help me all the fuckin' time, so I just thought- Excuse me for fuckin' offering."

"You..." you started, standing and now facing him, "-You were going to repay me for saving your life, by helping me with icecream?"

"'S hardly saving my life," he grumbled, under his breath -you still heard it.

"You had a knife-" you motioned harshly to stress the word, "-in your shoulder the first time we met."

"Not deadly," he retorted, a bit pompous.

You rolled your eyes, "Look, give me the benefit of the doubt-"

Tangerine quickly said -almost on instinct, "I certainly will fuckin' not."

"-let's call it even," you continued, ignoring his remark, "-I save your life, you save mine."

"That's..." he started, "-That's makin' it even?"

"Well, yeah," you tilted your head, "-a life for a life."

He furrowed his eyebrows, you took it as him not understanding.

"Let's say that I'm getting chased down an alley," you clarified, before interjecting, "-Ooh wait, or maybe I'm getting robbed-"

"Are you fuckin' excited at the idea of gettin' robbed, love?"

"No," you quickly mended, "-it's just a better story. Plus, that's not relevant-"

His lips quirked up into a little smile.

"-What I'm saying is," you started, "-If I'm in trouble, you have to save me. To make it even."

"And how am I supposed to know when you're in trouble, then?"

You paused, pursing your lips -good point, "Uh, I don't know. Do you guys have like a bat signal? Like I hold up a fruit stand sign to the light-"

"Very funny," Tangerine interrupted -flatly, "-Look, just take my phone number, yeah? If you're ever in trouble, you can ring me like a fuckin' normal person."

"You're one to talk," you responded, before furrowing your eyebrows, "-Wait, you guys have phones?"

"Yeah," Tangerine stressed, "-who do you think we are?"

"Well, I don't know," you explained, "-don't phones have trackers? Won't that out you guys? When you're on... jobs?"

"Burners," Lemon quickly clarified, "-well, kind of. 'S on a secret network, basically."

"So," you started, processing, "-you want to give me your secret phone number?"

Tangerine hummed, realizing but seeming to settle, "Well, it's not like you've given me a reason to not trust you, love. Should I not?"

"True," you responded, "-I have not snitched on you. Even with... all the blood, and the knife, and the job you won't talk about-"

"We get it, love," he groaned out, "-just give me your fuckin' phone, yeah?"

You without hesitation gave it to him, he seemed to quickly put your phone number in his, and then his in yours -handing it back to you open on the contact. With a smile, you made his name the tangerine emoji.

"You put me as the damn emoji, didn't you?"

"Oh, yeah," you laughed out, pocketing your phone in one fellow swoop.

You ended up seeing them both a few more times after that with varying injuries. (Once Lemon had a broken nose, and Tangerine had a broken finger. No more knives, thankfully.)

They were starting to be familiar to you -friends even. Despite not telling you about their job, you had gotten to know them well; you hate to brag but you were pretty good at settling their arguments. It made you integral to their dynamic.

You probably should've known one day you helping them stay alive would come back and bite you in the ass.

See, if you were asked, you'd probably assume they had many enemies. They were, at least, fighting people on a daily basis -you don't do that if your job is a positive one. And fighting people, almost regularly, is a surefire way of saying 'somebody hates me'. They probably had an enemy in every other city, if you were realistic.

You don't know why you hadn't thought of that.

That day, it was just a normal one. You worked until the sun went down, and then went home. Or you were supposed to.

Your shift at work was long and exhausting and you kind of wished your bed was right in front of you -so, to be honest, you weren't in your most aware state. It was always dangerous walking the streets tired, you knew this, so you usually had someone walk home with you. This night, in particular, was a lone shift (hell on earth) with a manager you didn't like, so you didn't ask.

And maybe that was stupid of you, but you doubted they would say yes.

Your feet pattered along the sidewalk, street lamps fading in and out of your view. Every few steps it'd get dark and then light again; to be honest, you were too tired to feel scared when it was dark.

And then, right as you stepped into the light, you heard the screech of car breaks (which you were kind of used to) and then suddenly there were hands all over you. Gloved hands, black-gloved hands.

Before you could say a word, you were thrown into the back of a van -no seats by the way, and enveloped in darkness.

It took you a minute to adjust, head spinning and hands shaking against the cold metal underneath you. It kind of felt like when you met Tangerine for the first time, like you weren't really there. Like you were experiencing something so bizarre, it couldn't be real-

Shit, you thought to yourself, Tangerine.

You patted yourself, ruffling over your pockets -trying to find your phone. It was dark and you couldn't even see. You guessed that was why, your phone went clattering onto the metal, away from your hand -loud.

There was something in you that hoped that these guys were stupid. That they'd look over the noise and ignore you until they took you wherever the hell they were taking you.

You weren't that lucky.

The van was distinctly pulled over, tires even scraping along the bumpy texture. And within minutes, the door to the van was flung open.

They were just a shadowy figure, light framing them so you couldn't see any of his features at all. He was just a shadow. You didn't know if that made him any scarier.

"What the hell are you doing back here?" His voice was low and gruff -like a smoker.

"I didn't-" you started, trying to avoid your phone -it was shadowed in the dark. You doubted he could see it-

And then his eyes flicked directly to it.

You literally could not have had a worse day.

Instead of reaching for it, he eyed for you to instead. And for a second, you thought he might've been trying to help you. That was wrong.

With your phone in your hand, the man promptly put a gun to your head. From a distance, yeah, but still trained directly into the center of your forehead. Was he going to kill you? Just like that?

This was suddenly very real, you swallowed back tears and nearly dropped your phone -trying to raise your hands up.

"Please," you begged, slowly and shaky but clear enough for them to hear.

"Shut up," he hissed out, "-listen. Take your phone, and call 'em."

"C-Call who?"

"Don't play dumb with me," the man echoed out, and you heard the click of the trigger pulling back -dear god, "-we know you're close to the twins, we've been watchin' your place for months."

"Okay, okay-" you breathed out, it felt like your lungs were full like you were suffocating-

Tears burned at the backs of your eyes, as your fingers, shaking, scrolled around the contacts app -he hadn't texted you or anything so all you had was his contact. Only for emergencies, he'd said.

You almost wanted to scare him once, but the idea felt so very stupid now.

Clicking call, the man nudged your hand, speaking lowly, "Put it on fucking speaker, now."

You dutifully did so, even if it took a few tries to hit the button -your hands were shaking enough to blur the screen. Your head was spinning, and the only thing your could feel was the cold metal beneath your legs.

Why did you ever think this was a good idea? To get caught up with... with bloody men who had a mysterious job?

You were moving back home if you made it out alive -the city wasn't worth this.

"'Ello?" His voice was spent, and you could hear the raggedy breaths puffing out of his chest -somehow hearing his voice calmed you just a second.

The man nudged you again, so you spoke, "Tangerine?"

He must have not been paying attention, because your shaky whisper -wet from your tears, you were crying, went relatively unnoticed.

"Little busy at the mo-" you heard a solid hit and what sounded like a crack, "-ment, you sure this is important, love?"

The man kept his eyes laser-focused on you, you took it as a sign to keep talking.

"T-Tangerine," you repeated, more inflection -the shake in your voice unavoidable.

The noise on the phone, suddenly got very quiet -you heard him mumble something to Lemon 'you got 'im?' before seeming to pull his full attention to you, "Everything okay, love? You sound... Is somethin' wrong?"

The man looked at you, expectantly. You took it as to tell him what was happening, clenching your nails into your skin -it might bleed. The pain was distracting, even just for a moment.

"I-I'm," you tried, but your voice cracked, and your breath turned into a sob, "T-There's a man, he has a gun to my head, I don't- I don't know why-"

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," Tangerine spit out, something fierce in his voice, "Lemon-"

The man snatched the phone from your hand, voice low and in a growl, "Seems I got something you want, Tangerine. It's only fair."

"Who the hell are you?"

"Doesn't matter," the man deflected, "-all that matters is that I have your little nurse, and you have no idea where we are."

The van, suddenly without warning, started up again -swinging back onto the road. You braced yourself against the wall, mindlessly blinking -this isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't real.

You could hear the pounding of his footsteps -rushed, like he was trying to get somewhere, "If you lay a hand on 'em, I will fuckin' rip you apart, piece by excruciating piece. Slow and fuckin' steady, for hours-"

"You say that as if you know where we are," the man responded, "-as if you have a chance of finding them in time."

In time? your brain chimed, and everything felt so far away now.

"I swear to fuckin' god-" he spit out, venomous, "-if you hurt 'em-"

"Yeah, yeah," the man retorted -confidence in his tone, "-I got that part, fruit."

You breathed out, swallowing back tears, and wiping your eyes so hard that you were seeing spots; maybe this was all a dream, maybe you had just fallen asleep at work-

"Hate to do this to you," the man echoed out, "-but we have to go. Let's hope we see each other later, for your sake."

Tangerine nearly yelled through the phone, but that didn't stop him from hanging up.

At the next stop, the man moved back to the front -taking your phone with him. You sat alone, in the back of a van, in complete darkness.

Would this be the last thing you ever see? Really?

It was just like you were in the city, so incredibly alone. At least you had a chance then, to remedy it. Now... Now you weren't even sure you'd be breathing in a few hours.

"Oh god," you breathed out a big exhale, a sob bubbling up your throat -you had so much left to do, "-oh god."

The van didn't stop for what felt like forever, bumpy roads and quick turns -they were speeding the whole time, and you had no idea how they weren't pulled over. But maybe it was because of the hour, it was fairly late.

The door swung open before you could think about anything else, two men rushing in and grabbing you by the shoulders -dragging you out.

"If you scream," you felt cold metal to your neck, "-you're dead."

"Aren't you going to kill me anyways?"

"Only if your friends," the other man retorted, "-don't behave."

They tied something around your eyes, leaving you completely in the dark -gloved hands squeezing your shoulders so tight, they were definitely going to bruise. Three sets of feet pattered along what sounded like concrete, as your mind went numb -the cold, bitter air filtering over your skin.

It was echoing now, after you heard the swing of some heavy doors opening -must have been a big place. Your mind was reeling, you felt like you weren't even really there.

Then, without a word, they threw you forward directly into a brick wall -seemingly latching a door behind you. Your head spun for a moment as you tried to reorient yourself -blindfold still on, as you pulled it off you felt a stickiness on your forehead.

Pulling your hand in front of your face, you realized it was blood. How hard did you hit your head?

Your fingers flitted across it again, and you hissed. Apparently very hard.

You tried to look at your hands, see how much blood, but it was all shadowed -the darkness didn't change much from what you saw in the blindfold.

Hands shaking, you leaned yourself against the wall -tears steadily making their way down your cheeks. You could cry now, freely, as you finally were brought back down to your body.

This was really happening. You were in some dingy old room, and there were men outside who wanted to kill you to get at someone else. You were expendable, a pawn.

Any moment, any feeling, and they could just kill you. You'd die here, and nobody would know what happened to you.

You'd be one of those news stories you couldn't believe.

The brick scratched against your head, but it was kind of numbed by your headache -pounding where you knew the split of skin to be. Or where you could've guessed it was anyway.

That couldn't mean anything good.

Your breaths were starting to hollow out, low and slow, your body coming back to the cold concrete floors. You were grappling with your helplessness, what the hell would you do? What could you do?

You were... you couldn't do anything. You were done. This was it, all that work for... for you to die in some dingy old room alone.

And then, you thought of something you hadn't thought to. Something you'd never let your mind dig into, not really, because at the time it seemed stupid.

Tangerine.

You'd always known there was something there, something bubbling under your skin. Even with everything, you still... there was something.

Something warm in your chest at the idea that he came to see you. That it wasn't just for the help anymore. And he was handsome, and he promised to save you and his eyes and his arms and his hands-

Before you could think about it for too long, something interrupted you.

Boom.

It made your ears sting, the noise bouncing along the walls -you flinched where you sat. Breath sudden in a gasp, you stilled. Almost like as if someone could see you, like you were hiding.

There was some shuffling outside, someone messing with the latch on the door -they were struggling. Maybe because their hands were shaking? They were trying to get in-

And then, right outside the door was an even louder-

Boom.

It makes your head sting, squeezing your eyes shut so hard that you see spots. You swallowed, trying to calm the pounding in your head, rubbing at your temples.

Gunshots, you recognized, suddenly, they were gunshots.

Your heart stuttered in your chest, they were right outside the door. With a gun. With a gun-

Before you could think of anything to say, the rattling at the door started again -the scratch of metal against metal. It sounded more frantic now, somehow, and your whole body froze. Maybe if you didn't move they wouldn't hear you?

The door swung open, light pouring in that made your eyes sting. The door pounding against the wall -loud and opposing.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you held your breath, staying completely still -hoping the shadow hid you against the walls. One hand covering your face, waiting until a figure steps into the room.

And when one did, cast in shadow, you sat very still. Watching their head twist around the room, back and forth -looking, searching.

You bit back a sob, let me live, let me live.

Then, they spoke.

"Love? Are you in 'ere?" He echoed out, "-Or was that fuckin' twat lyin'-"

"Tangerine," spilled out of your mouth as you rushed forward -wrapping your arms around him in a huff, "-holy shit, Tangerine-"

He stood frozen for a second, unfamiliar with the affection, you assumed. You inhaled a shaky breath in, the whiff of his cologne keeping you stable, there. You were safe-

His arms slowly met around you, unsure, but settling comfortably. Holding you for a second, just a second.

"Are you alright, love?" He pushed back a little bit -blue eyes scanning over you, "-Did he fuckin' lay a hand on you?"

"No, just-" you breathed out, pushing through the pain, "-he slammed me against the wall, I hit my head pretty hard, but that's-"

"Your head?" He asked, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into the light, "-Come out 'ere, love, so I can see."

"It's not really-"

Tangerine let out a big sigh, turning back to you, "Let me help you, yeah?"

You pursed your lips, eyeing him for a moment -he was relatively unscathed, just a blood stain on his shirt and maybe some busted-up knuckles. His hair was still in place and his suit jacket uncreased, he felt composed -sturdy. Stable, really.

"Okay," you whispered out, letting him guide you out the door -you hissed at the little light you did see, almost instinctively squeezing your eyes shut.

"Sorry, love," he spoke, soft and gentle, "-can't control the sun for you."

"You could block it," you remarked, "-god made your shoulders insanely broad for a reason."

He laughed, moving in his place so less light shone on you -hands moving to hold your face (tilting the wound into the light), "You think my shoulders are broad, then?"

"Duh," you responded, something in your head woozy -you stumbled a little in place.

"Shit," he reacted, hands smoothing to your shoulders, holding you up, "-Can you 'ear me? Stay fuckin' awake, yeah?"

"Okay," you blinked heavily, trying to see him clearly.

When you did, he stood there eyes desperately searching yours -looking at you, concerned. They scattered all over you, settling on the split on your head for a bit too long -it was still pounding in your head, made you flinch a little.

"Do you think-" you started, "-Do you think I need a hospital?"

"No," Tangerine breathed out, fingers dusting along your wound, "-just need someone to watch ya overnight. And to clean you up a bit."

"Wouldn't..." you echoed, "-Wouldn't a hospital do that?"

Tangerine met your eyes, his lips quirking into a smile (just barely), "You think you're fuckin' funny, yeah?"

"I'm just making a point," you deflected.

"Just-" he sighed out, before connecting your eyes again, "-let me help you. I want to, yeah? I really fuckin' want to."

"Okay," you echoed out, relaxing into his touch -relaxing finally, "-fine."

"Good," he tsked, and without hesitation wrapped his fingers around your wrist, "-now, let's get out of 'ere, shall we?"

You did so, eyes squeezed shut tight because all the light did was hurt. But Tangerine soothed you, hand still on your wrist, ("Close your eyes if it hurts, love, I've got you.") and guided you along, even sitting you down in the car and pulling the seat belt along your body.

"You know I could do that myself, right?" You spoke, eyes squinted open -the car was much darker.

He didn't dignify you with a response, sliding into your side and shutting the door behind himself. He silently settled into the seat beside you, like the passenger seat was taken. Which it decidedly was not.

His blue eyes kept darting to you, and you could feel his leg pressed against yours.

"You know that I'm fine, Tangerine," you exhaled, looking to him, "-don't you?"

He didn't respond, so you continued.

"You looked at my wound, I'm alright-" you laughed a little, "-I can sit in the backseat by myself."

Tangerine seemed to think for a second, before speaking decidedly, "If you go to fuckin' sleep, love, you won't wake up. I'm 'ere to keep you awake."

You could feel his breath fan over your face, and you swallowed. You could hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears, as your eyes stayed on his (blue, blue-). With another intake of breath, you snapped them away -eagerly looking out the window.

Well, you thought to yourself, you're doing a really good job, Tangerine.

The city blurred by, as it made way to more familiar silhouettes but not... not yours. Not ones near your home.

"Um," you spoke, particularly to Lemon (who was driving) "-are we not going... home?"

"You serious, love?" Tangerine offered, blue eyes decidedly matching yours.

"Are we not-"

Lemon interrupted -catching your eye in the mirror, "You were kidnapped, mate. Do you not remember 'at?"

"No, I do," you huffed out, eyes dashing between the two of them, "-they didn't get me at home though, they got me off the street."

"Doesn't mean anythin'," Tangerine countered, jaw twitching ever so slightly -he really didn't like talking about them, "-'Ey 'ave eyes on your home, 's how they made the connection to us."

"Tangerine-"

"He's got a point," Lemon responded, fingers tapping along the wheel, "-takes too much effort to prove 'im wrong, trust me."

"Lemon-"

"Why do you even want to go home, love?" Tangerine interrupted, eyebrows furrowed -genuine curiosity.

"Because it's my home," you reiterated, "-it's familiar. I know you guys may have forgotten the feeling, but it... it would make me feel a lot better to be home."

Tangerine sighed, a deep heavy sigh, "How about a compromise?"

You pursed your lips, eyes flickering across his face (god, was he pretty), "I'm listening."

"We stay at the hotel a few nights until they cool off," he offered, "-and then, you can go home."

You sighed out in relief.

"But," Tangerine clarified, "-me and Lemon need to stay with you for a while. There's not a fuckin' chance you're goin' alone after this. Especially so soon."

"What so-" you started, "-you guys are going to constantly be around me? I have work, and I... I need to get groceries-"

"We 'ave to be, love," Tangerine spoke in almost a whisper, soft, "-these people, they're not goin' to be as fuckin' nice next time. Lemon and I know 'at."

Right, you thought to yourself, mysterious jobs. They've probably done something like this before.

You involuntary shuddered, thinking about the darkness and the gun and your life-

Tangerine looked at you, eyes darting around your face -a slosh of concern sliding over his features, flickering in his eyes. It was no wonder those thoughts had come to the forefront of your mind, he was so protective of you. There's only so much you can resist feelings for someone who so very much values your life.

A handsome someone, your mind tsked.

Before he could open his mouth though, you turned your head back to the window. A familiar swirl bubbled into your stomach, you couldn't chance looking at him. Afterall, getting flustered with him was surely a dead giveaway and there was no way in hell Tangerine felt anything remotely the same.

And that was plain embarrassing.

You felt suddenly like you were in school again, and were crushing on a jock -that never even looked your way. It felt pretty hopeless, and even though it did, it didn't stop you from going to every game -just to pretend for a little while.

Was that what patching him up was? Your own sort of way to be close to him, to pretend for a moment that everything was different.

Shit, you thought, that is embarrassing.

Luckily, you severely doubted Tangerine would ever know. You were pretty good at keeping secrets. Hence, well, the whole reason you were even here in the first place -you regularly housed assassins.

It took only a few minutes after that (feeling blue eyes boring into your side the whole time) when Lemon pulled into a parking spot and you arrived at the hotel. Lucky for you, it was far from a dingy old place on the side of the road.

This place was way above your paygrade. You had never even dreamed of living such a luxury; all golden accents and marble floors. You hardly even knew this place existed in your city.

"I take it back," you whispered to Tangerine, as Lemon strode up to the front desk to request a room change, "-we can stay here forever."

You saw the woman point to you, clearly in concern and you suddenly remembered the wound on your head. Your fingers smoothed along it, and you grimaced, Lemon seemed to come up with some sort of explanation, though. And she promptly looked away.

Tangerine laughed at your words, a quiet little chuckle, and fell rather silent. You peered over at him, wondering why he hadn't said anything back; and when you did, he seemed to be stealing little looks at you -silently fidgeting with his rings.

You pursed your lips in thought for a moment, debating asking him about it.

Before you could, he opened his mouth to say something -eyes lingering on your face, like he was trying to memorize it (something in your chest fluttered), "Love, I-"

"Sorry, mates," Lemon interrupted, eyes dashing between the two of you for a moment, "-rooms are booked tonight. Lady says we can try again tomorrow but she doubts it'll 'ave changed."

"So," you swallowed, "-just two bedrooms?"

"Yep," Lemon popped the p, "-and hate to say it, but I'm gettin' one by myself. You lot can figure the rest of 'at out yourselves."

Something was gleaming there in his eye -something mischievous; you frowned -heartbeat stuttering in your chest.

Maybe there's a couch, your mind chimed -a little patheticly.

As fate would have it, there was. And an entire kitchen and living space -an expensive kitchen and living space. You were truly floored by this place.

"This is a hotel, right?" you questioned, eyes lingering on the high ceilings (you decidedly did not have those).

"For rich blokes," Lemon clarified, "-the kinds 'at hate to 'ave anythin' besides luxury."

You spun around, eyes darting between the two of them, "Like you two?"

Tangerine frowned, and Lemon snorted -disappearing off into the kitchen; leaving just you and Tangerine alone in the living space. That being said, each room was actually divided, with no open concept -just archways.

You slung yourself onto the couch, inelegantly (but when were you ever elegant) and were pleased to find it felt like clouds, "Why, if you could pay for this, did you ever come to my apartment? They probably have an on-staff nurse you could page, good god-"

"Eh," Tangerine mended, voice calm and confident, "-like the company better 'ere."

You smiled to yourself, small and quiet, heart fluttering in your chest. You are not making this easy, fruit man.

You cleared your throat, about to shift the subject because you frankly could not address the fondness in his eyes. Instead, Lemon came to your rescue with a smile.

"Well," he spoke, "-I'm fuckin' exhausted, I'm off to bed. If you need anythin', ask Tangerine."

And then, with that, he left -disappearing behind one of the doors down into the hallway.

"You can't sleep," Tangerine said suddenly, "-your head... We've got to get you to a doctor in the mornin', so they can look at it."

"Why not tonight?"

"I truly fuckin' doubt anyone of credit would be open this late," he explained, sauntering up to your side and sitting down (when he had the whole couch).

"Tangerine," you spoke, "-the emergency room doesn't just... close."

"I just," he sighed out, leaning back into the couch "-I want you safe for tonight, yeah?"

"I doubt they'd show up to a hospital," you reasoned, weighing your words.

Tangerine frowned.

"Look, I just-" you paused, "-you don't have to be on watch duty. You need sleep. Just take me to the ER, and I'll-"

He scoffed, repeating, "There's no fuckin' way you're going alone, love."

Swiping the keys off one of the tables near the door and shooting Lemon a text, he grabbed your hand and guided you outside.

The night was a surprisingly quick one, as you were taken into the ER and looked at. They quickly bandaged and stitched your wound, even sending you in to get your brain looked at. Tangerine was dutifully by your side, all night, even when they told you they'd rather keep an eye on you tonight. Something along the lines of what Tangerine said, keeping you awake.

He did, however, end up getting some sleep -slouched over in a hospital chair. One of those plastic ones that really could not be comfortable, and you knew his back would ache in the morning. But when you asked him to, he straight refused to leave ("No fuckin' way, love"); so, you were sort of glad he had gotten some sleep after all.

Then, the next morning, they set you on your way. Quickly reminding your husband (it was the only way Tangerine could stay overnight) of all the bandage changes and consistent eye he should keep on you; he seemed rather serious when listening -eyes intent, and almost as if he could, he would take out a notepad and write each thing down extensively.

You were touched, something in your chest swirling widely.

Was this how he felt when you took care of him?

Well, you sort of doubted so, because they were different circumstances. Despite the closeness and the fingertips on the skin, it was less protective and more domestic. Something very different in the closeness there, and the presence of him now.

Even now, as you leaned onto the couch, scrolling through channels -you felt his eyes solidly on you.

"Tangerine," you tsked, bandage smoothed across your head, "-I'm fine."

He blinked, as your eyes swam over his face and a pink dusted along his cheeks, "That's not what I- I was just... just lookin', love."

You furrowed your eyebrows, curious, tilting your head, "Why?"

Tangerine paused, blue eyes bubbling along your skin -like he was considering his answer, or maybe deciding on one. You thought for a second that he wasn't going to say anything -wordless, as always.

"Need to change your bandage," he deflected, getting up, grabbing some supplies, and roaming over to you on the couch.

You groaned, leaning your head back against the cushions -so soft and cloudlike that you almost couldn't stay frustrated, "We just did that."

"'At was yesterday, love," Tangerine hummed, smiling ever-so-slightly, "-the doctors said-"

"The doctors said," you mocked his accent, shaking your head with the words, "-spare me the speech this time, Tan."

He smirked, face so close to yours now (peeling the old one off, rough fingertips dusting along your forehead), "Fuckin' argumentative today, yeah?"

You swallowed, eyes darting between his -back and forth, responding shortly, "Maybe."

Tangerine furrowed his eyebrows at the quickness of your response, dabbing at the wound quickly -cleaning it. He was gentle, with tiny little movements; it was hard to imagine these were the same hands that hurt others. He was so soft with your wound, why-

"You alright, love?"

He was a breath away, blue eyes (upon finishing the bandaging) matching yours, intensely. Tangerine just had an intense stare, like you simply held the world in your hands. It was like he didn't blink, even though you knew he did.

You swallowed, for a moment, eyes dashing along his face -it really was totally unfair. Your cheeks grew a little hot at the closeness, you saw his eyes dart to it -eyebrows furrowing together.

Good god, it really was like high-school again.

"What, yeah-" you laughed, awkwardly -eyes darting away from him, "-why would I not be?"

Tangerine hummed in thought for a second, and you could nearly hear the gears in his head turning, "Love... you're actin' really fuckin' odd right now."

You fidgeted with your fingers, watching them in your lap -you couldn't think straight right now. This was all new in your brain, and when was the last time you had feelings for someone-

"I'm not," you answered, finally -a bit like a toddler who was getting in trouble but the meaning all the same.

He sighed out a breath, seeming to settle on something and you could almost feel his eyeroll.

And without another second, you felt his fingers on your chin. Rough fingertips brushed against it, as he tilted you back to face him.

You blinked.

His blue eyes flickered along your face, slow and tedious, "You know you're safe with me, yeah?"

"Tangerine," you exhaled.

"I'd-" he started, eyes dipping away before coming back to yours -so genuine, "-I'd save you without the deal, you know 'at? Anytime, anywhere-"

"Tangerine, that's not-" you faltered, he was so broken open, vulnerable, to you right now. Something in your chest heavy, and your heart ready to spill on your tongue.

"I'd shoot 'im over and over again if it made ya feel safe, love," he continued, fingertip brushing along your skin like he was cradling your face, "-I'm sorry I ever let 'im put a fuckin' hand on you, you 'ave to know 'at."

"Tangerine," you sighed out, soft, "-That's not your fault."

"It is."

"Tangerine-"

"You're afraid now, aren't you?" He echoed out, a soft sort of whisper but filled with intent, "-How does 'at not mean I'm responsible? I never should've-"

"Tangerine!" You exclaimed, resorting to using your hands to cup his face -bringing him back down to earth, "-I'm not... afraid."

He paused.

"Well, yeah, I am, but it's not-" you tsked, before sighing, "-I know you'll keep me safe. I don't know how I know, I just... do."

He furrowed his eyebrows, "Then why-"

And then, as normal, your brain stopped functioning, words coming out before you could think them over, "You're very pretty."

He opened his mouth, a smirk smoothing onto his lips. You didn't let him continue.

"And I'm not immune to a pretty man caring about my well-being," you clarified, swallowing -somehow maintaining eye contact, "-I'm not... good at handling it."

"You're..." he started, a quirk of a smile on his lips (not that you were looking), "You're fuckin' flustered, love?"

"Mortifyingly embarrassed," you corrected, your voice squeaked out.

Tangerine laughed a little, "Ya sure you didn't hit your head too hard?"

"Ha ha, laugh it up, mustache," you responded, rolling your eyes -much more comfortable. The banter was easy.

"Well," he tsked, and you were suddenly very aware of how close his face is to yours, "-you apparently fuckin' like it, love. What's 'at say about you?"

You swallowed, "Didn't say it doesn't suit you."

"Hmm," he hummed, and there was a flicker of something in his eye -mischievous, "-guess not."

"Nope," you popped the p -awkwardly. Your eyes darting between his frantically, you felt something building in the air a moment -heavy as your eyes sat on his, and his on yours.

It was almost as if, a look, one glance held your entire being in the balance.

"I think you're quite pretty too, ya know," he echoed out, low and gravelly -you could feel his breaths scattered across your face. He was suddenly very close to you again, the fuzziness that banter provided snatched away.

Something twisted in the bottom of your stomach, as you opened your mouth -letting out a very quiet, "Thank you."

He seemed to take those words, just absorb them in the heavy silence that had bestowed upon the room. There was a part of you that wished Lemon was still here, that he could pull you apart but he left early that morning. And now, here you were, and all you could think about was his lips and that stupid fucking mustache-

You blinked, clearing the fog, and clearing your throat -backing up and standing to your feet.

Tangerine slowly came to the realization, the haze drifting out of his eyes, as they came to default onto yours -still intense but not as close. You could handle this.

"Anyway," you bit your lip, "-I'm kind of starved, do you... want anything?"

"Do I fuckin' want anythin'," he mumbled to himself for a moment -hands carefully putting the old bandage on the table and arranging all of the supplies so they wouldn't fall off.

And with a slow measured breath, he rose to his feet -steps teetering closer to you. His hands found solace in his hair as he rifled it up a bit, and on the cuff of his shirt -you saw a little blood. Was that from you? From your bandage-

"I've got somethin' in mind," he finally said, a little distant from you, but nothing like before (maybe just a few steps away from the closeness of the couch).

"Yeah, um," you cleared your throat, but it still felt dry, "-what do you... want? I think we've got like some... fancy tortilla chips and salsa, which... is a good one, or-"

He laughed a deep sort of low chuckle, erasing those steps you talked about before. You swallowed, words trailing off; there was a little spark in his eye when he noticed that you had -pride.

"You are really un-fuckin'-believable, you know 'at, love?"

"I think you've told me before."

He laughed at that, shaking his head, and you felt the breaths of each one scattered along your face -brushing onto your lips. You snapped your mouth closed at the thought.

Deep breaths, you thought to yourself, deep, deep breaths. You can do this.

Tangerine grew rather silent, before words seemed to bubble out of him without thinking, "You."

"What?"

"I want you, love," he clarified, "-in particular, I'd really love to fuckin' kiss ya right now, is 'at alright?"

"I didn't think you were the type to ask," you quipped, before you could really think about it, again.

He furrowed his eyebrows, a bit in defense.

"No, I mean-" you scrambled for a minute, "-you feel like the kinda guy that does it-"

"It?"

"-in like an emotional rush. You know? Like no words, just... just..."

Tangerine sighed, but you could see the quirk of a smile on his lips -you hadn't scared him off yet apparently.

"Sorry," you squeaked out, and you definitely saw a smile smooth across his lips.

"I'm fuckin' askin' ya, love. Say yes or no, yeah?"

"Yes," it came out in a rush of breath, a little like it clawed up your throat with desperation, "-yes."

Tangerine didn't hesitate a second longer, pushing forward with a force unmatched -big hands coming to cup your face at the hinge of your jaw. It was desperate, almost like he'd been waiting to do this awhile and the idea of that, made your breath catch.

You briefly wondered when it started, before he pushed into you further -hands righting themselves just below your ears on the back of your neck. He made you bump into the wall behind you. Tangerine promptly swallowed your squeak at the sensation, as easy as breathing.

Of course he was good at kissing too, your mind chimed, so unfair.

And then a more coy voice spoke up, but hey, he does want to kiss you though, I'd count that as a win.

Yeah, you decided as his mustache scratched ever so slightly at your upper lip and his hands dropped to your waist, definitely a win.

He pulled back a moment, breaths ragged and slow -eyes darting over yours, "Was good, yeah?"

You decidedly didn't answer him, pushing forward to kiss him again -this time a little slower, less rushed. He was just as slow, fingers holding your waist just slightly tighter like he didn't want you to leave.

Why the hell would I leave?

Tangerine was the one to part that time too, eyes slow to open like the kiss had affected him just as much. Your heart beat a little faster at that.

"Take that as a yes, yeah?"

"Oh, definitely," you laughed, hands coming to rest between his chest and shoulders.

He's strong too, your mind unwillingly retorted.

He didn't move, like he was simply absorbing your breaths and to be fair, you were pretty sure you were doing the same. He was nearly panting after all.

Words slipped out before you could stop them, "When I told you to borrow sugar, this was not what I was expecting."

Tangerine paused for a moment, gears working. Before his face flickered into something of annoyance, frown so prominent.

"Good god, fuckin' shut up, love."

"Make me," you offered, laughing.

And he certainly did.

#tangerine bullet train #tangerine x reader #bullet train #tangerine x y/n #tangerine x you #tan's things #borrow some sugar

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denaliwrites · 6 months

Text

Don't Look Away

Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader

Part 1: Don't Blink Part 2: Don't Turn Your Back Part 4: Dreams See Us Through

Summary: You're finally rid of those godforsaken angels.

Requests: Open!

Tag List: @nyxiethesimp, @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce

Warnings: Weeping Angels.

You were so tired.

Between the nightmares and the constant vigilance, there was just... never a moment of rest for you.

Sure, the Doctor whisked you away again, back out into the far reaches of time and the universe, but no matter where you went, you always wondered if the angel was lurking nearby. And when you went back home, you knew that it was.

Out of sight, in this case, did not mean out of mind.

And the Doctor -- oh, the Doctor. He missed the old you. You could see it in his eyes. Every time he looked at you, even if he was smiling, you could see the broken hearts behind those beautiful brown eyes.

You had half a mind to leave him, to spare him the pain of watching you slowly wither away to nothing. And it was happening -- you could feel it, the way your body was getting slower, like it was in the process of shutting down.

Your mind, too, was starting to go. Things that normally would've taken moments to understand took you minutes. The Doctor often found you wandering the TARDIS with little recollection of where you were or how you got there. Your adventures became less frequent, and on the occasions he did take you on one, he was forced to keep a close eye on you so that you didn't trail off and get lost.

And then the adventures stopped.

The Doctor still picked up distress calls and the like -- but he couldn't help people and keep an eye on you at the same time, so you were left in the TARDIS while he went and did his thing.

You didn't mind, though. The rare times you were completely and totally alone gave you the opportunity to cry your heart out.

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

The Doctor... wasn't a fan of problems he couldn't solve.

Did he accept that there were problems he couldn't solve? Of course -- the universe was vast and mysterious, even to him. Planets that by all accounts shouldn't exist existed. He'd met species that by all accounts shouldn't have been able to evolve, but somehow had.

(He still shuddered at the memory of the creature on Midnight.)

But acceptance was not the same as liking. And he did not like problems he couldn't solve.

In fact, he rather hated them.

You were a problem he couldn't solve. Or, at least, adjacently. More accurately, the Weeping Angel that had psychically latched itself onto you was a problem he couldn't solve -- but it was a problem for you, and he couldn't solve that either.

It killed him.

It killed him, it killed him, it killed him.

He just wanted to see you smile again. Hear your laugh. Feel you radiate joy and wonder and curiosity.

One thing the Doctor also hated?

Running out of time.

How did a Time Lord in possession of a time machine ever run out of time? How could he have let himself run out of time?

You were on the verge of needing actual medical attention -- intervention, really. He could see you deteriorating, noted how the process was getting faster and faster every day.

He was going to take you to New Earth, to those cat nun nurses. If anyone could help you, it was them -- loathe as he was to admit it.

But he thought, one more adventure. One more little trip, before he took you to be healed, and one trip to a doctor that could heal you better than he could before he took you home for the last time.

One more trip, one more doctor's office, before he gave himself to the Weeping Angel.

It was the only solution.

Well, the only solution he could see, at least.

So, he landed the TARDIS someplace low stakes. Calm, peaceful. Normal, far as the universe went. A little market planet by the name of --

"Vipitera!" the Doctor exclaimed as he swept out of the TARDIS with a big grin on his face. You shuffled close behind, a hand clutching at his coat to keep from losing him.

"Vipitera," he repeated as he swung around to face you suddenly, his bright and excited eyes meeting yours -- dull and exhausted. His grin didn't waver.

"Vipitera," he said again, slower, really drawing out the syllables. "Vipitera, Vipitera, Vipiteraaaaa." Each time he repeated the name, it sounded goofier and goofier.

Finally, miraculously, he managed to coax out a smile from you. His grin broadened. "There you are," he said with such amazement and adoration. He pulled you towards him and planted a loving kiss to your forehead. "There you are."

He tucked you tightly against his side and led you away from the TARDIS. He'd landed in some kind of supply closet, so it took some walking and weaving through halls, but eventually the two of you stepped out into the market proper.

He watched as your eyes sparked to life and bounced from stall to stall. He could almost feel the excitement flooding your brain, igniting parts of you that had been dulled and left to flicker out for far too long.

He supposed that was his fault.

"Welcome to the market planet Vipitera," he said with a grin and a broad motion to their surroundings. It effectively chased the thoughts away, as he got to see you smile again.

"Let me just -- hold on --" He pulled away from you to dig in his pockets, pulling something out a minute later. It looked like some kind of computer chip. "There's loads of credits on that thing," he said as he passed it to you with one hand and scratched the back of his head with the other. "Off you pop. Go wild."

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

You didn't like the idea of going off on your own, but you figured -- a planet as public as this, with constant activity and very few places a Weeping Angel could hide -- either someone would've noticed a moving statue disappearing people, or there'd be too many eyes and not a lot of moving, generally.

And the Doctor thought it was safe, and he usually wasn't wrong.

The only problem now was that you had no idea where to start. Holding your credit... chip? close, you carefully started making your way through the nearest stalls, browsing what they had to offer.

Some had food that smelled incredible but looked maybe unfit for human consumption. Some had little knick-knacks and trinkets. A handful had jewelry. One had books.

You stopped to browse the book stall and ended up buying the biography of the first human president of Vipitera.

Why? Well, why not?

You also bought an Agatha Christie novel with a special edition, Vipitera exclusive cover, because you thought the Doctor would get a kick out of it.

And then you were off, looking around and buying things until your arms were full -- and, in your defense, the Doctor had told you to go crazy.

It eventually got to the point where you had to make a trip to the TARDIS to drop your haul off in your room.

As you headed back to the market, you thought you felt someone watching you -- you thought the angel had somehow found you, but the feeling passed just as quickly as it had come. Knowing the angel wouldn't have let you off so easy, you figured it was something else and went back out among the stalls.

The Doctor found you eventually, after you'd bought another armful of things, and led you to a human food stall after dropping all your new things off at the TARDIS (again).

Your eyes lit up and your mouth watered at all the options.

"Pick for me?" you asked the Doctor, looking at him with big, round eyes. "I don't even know where to start."

"Well," he started, motioning at something that looked somewhat like spaghetti, except the noodles (were they noodles, even?) were teal, and the sauce was a deep, foresty green. "Can never go wrong with Yuphorian nishles and pine sauce."

"... Nishles?"

"Fish noodles. Yuphorian fish meat is that color because of the algae they eat."

You blinked down at the curiously colored meal. "It's... good, though...?" you asked, finding it hard to get over the fact it looked like candy.

"Oh, yes. It's delicious."

"I'll try it then."

While he ordered you the nishles and a couple other things, you went to find a place to sit and decided on a nice shaded table in one of the far corners of the dining area.

A cool breeze blew past as you settled into one of the chairs. Barely a moment later, something was draped over your shoulders and you looked back to see the Doctor laying his coat over you.

"What about the food?" you asked, drawing the coat tighter around yourself.

"They're gonna bring it," he replied as he sat next to you.

"Thank you."

"I couldn't leave you shivering--"

"No, not for that -- I mean, yes, thank you for lending me your coat. But... no. Thank you for today."

The look he gave you was so sad. It broke your heart and confused you in equal measure.

"What's wrong, Doctor?"

The smile he shot your way was forced, and the glimmer in his eyes wasn't from joy but from unshed tears. "Oh, nothing," he replied. "Nothing at all."

He obviously wasn't convincing, but you knew pressing the matter wouldn't get you anywhere. Instead, you decided to rest your head while the two of you waited for your food.

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

The Doctor had forgotten what you looked like when you were sleeping -- he'd forgotten what peace looked like on your face.

You were only taking a light nap while you waited for alien pasta made out of fish oil, but to him, you were the pinnacle of beauty in that moment. Of everything he'd seen in all his nine hundred odd years traveling through time and space, this moment with you was the most remarkable. The most stunning. The most breathtaking.

How he hated that he had to wake you up.

He waited, at least, putting it off until the waitress was gone and then for a little bit longer before he shook you awake.

You grunted, every cell in your body desperate to stay under to the point of protest, but he kept at it until you stirred.

"Time to eat," he told you as your eyes fluttered open. "Come and get it while it's hot."

He saw the heaviness of sleep in your eyes as you looked up at him and oh, how he adored it. How he'd missed it.

"Mmm," you replied, making him chuckle.

"I promise I'll let you rest when you're done eating," he said, pushing the plate of nishles towards you. "C'mon, before it gets cold!"

He could see how begrudging you were to get up, but you did so anyway, and grumpily stabbed at your pasta for effect.

"Oh, come now, what did the poor nishles do to deserve this?" he asked teasingly.

He saw a flicker of a smile on your lips.

Emboldened, he continued. "All that work being processed and cooked to be eaten, just for you to stab it."

That little secret smile grew, just a bit.

"Those poor nishles."

He watched as you broke at the word nishles, dissolving into a fit of uncontrollable giggles. They were probably spurred on by delirium, but it had been so long since he'd heard you laugh that he didn't care.

"Oi, why are you laughing?" he whined playfully. "Those fish didn't give their lives just for you to laugh at them!"

Your giggles grew into a full belly laugh, and the Doctor thought that if he were to die in that moment, he'd die happy, because he would've gotten to hear you laugh -- really laugh -- one last time.

Your fit of laughter eventually died down, helped along by you taking a few deep breaths and putting in a concentrated effort to stop.

"So..." you said, biting back another bout of giggles. "Ni--nishles..."

"Nishles," the Doctor agreed, watching you.

He continued to watch as you took the first bite, watched as your face shifted across a vast array of expressions, and watched as it eventually settled on bewilderment.

"What... is that...?" you asked, blinking rapidly at the dish in front of you.

"That'd be the pine sauce, made from the needles of the Yuphorian fir."

"It... but it doesn't taste like pine," you whimpered in confusion, eyeing it.

"Well of course," the Doctor said with a grin. "It's not Earth pine sauce, it's Yuphorian pine sauce. Earth pine sauce would be disgusting -- well, I suppose juniper sauce might not be. Or gin sauce... oh, there's an idea..."

He didn't realize you were staring past him until he paused and took in your suddenly stricken expression.

"What is it?" he asked softly, watching you carefully.

"I-I thought I... I thought I saw..."

Oh, no.

He turned to look behind him, but whatever you'd seen was gone.

If you'd even seen anything.

Not that he didn't believe your experience, but he was in a difficult position; you were deliriously tired and paranoid (rightfully, of course). Both things could lead to hallucinations.

He knew this, and yet he knew without a doubt that he had to take you seriously, for your sake.

"C'mon," he said quietly, moving to a stand. "We can finish lunch in the TARDIS." You nodded your assent and grabbed the food, then stood and tucked yourself into his side.

He led you through the market, through the building you'd materialized in, and to the TARDIS.

He slotted the key into the door, turned to unlock it, then turned back to look at you --

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

You didn't need to see the Doctor's stricken expression to know the Weeping Angel was behind you. You could feel its presence like a breath against your neck.

It felt like every hair on your body was standing to attention. It felt like your whole body stopped. You couldn't hear your heartbeat, but you could swear you heard the Doctor's hearts hammering away.

With a shuddering breath, you whimpered his name. You saw his eyes twitch -- he wanted so badly to look at you, but couldn't take his eyes off the angel.

"Get into the TARDIS," he commanded, "don't worry about me, I've got an eye --"

"Doctor," you interrupted, voice small but surprisingly steady.

You could see tears gathering in his eyes. He was desperate to look at you.

"I can't move."

Understanding dawned on his face, and you watched as his hearts broke right in front of you.

"I'm sorry, Doctor."

"You?" he asked in a tearful growl. "What have you done to be sorry for?"

"I'm sorry we won't have more time together."

He let out a hollow laugh. "No. I'm sorry. I couldn't save Rose, couldn't save Astrid, couldn't save Donna. And I can't save you."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not. It's not okay! Why you? Why you?"

"Doctor."

You could see him struggling to keep his eyes open, now. He struggled, and soon he'd fail.

"Doctor, let me go."

"I can't lose you, too."

"We don't have a choice."

He struggled. His eyes were twitching more now, desperate for relief, and he still so desperately wanted to be looking at you rather than the angel.

And then finally, the inevitable.

He blinked.

And your world went black.

#tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor x you #doctor who x reader #the doctor x reader #the doctor x you #reader insert #doctor who fic #doctor who fanfiction #doctor who #the doctor #david tennant #canon typical peril #weeping angels

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ninzied · 7 months

Text

his hands are in my hair, his

in which henry’s hand in his hair just does things to him, okay?

He’s not the big spoon all the time.

When they’re pressed for space (the limo in Berlin, for example), he somehow ends up with his head tucked into Henry’s shoulder—blissed out, fuckstruck, arm draped over Henry’s torso, Henry’s fingers in his hair.

Or when Alex falls asleep in other places Henry would call inopportune (listen—the Met Gala ran late and it’s a long train ride back to their brownstone), it’s always to Henry’s body wrapped warmly around his, the soothing feel of Henry’s fingers lightly dragging through his curls, against his scalp down to his nape, and…mmm…Alex can’t help but nod right off.

All right, so, maybe he’s starting to see a pattern form here.

Henry has a thing for his hair. Alex knows it. Alex likes it. (More than likes it—can be very vocal about it in fact—and it’s not not partly because of the way Henry flushes pretty pink when they’re dancing in front of a statue of Venus and Alex makes how much he enjoys it known directly into Henry’s ear.)

Alex is also learning that under the right circumstances, he likes it to the point where his brain short-circuits by shutting off altogether—which, whether it happens while they’re at June and Nora’s or on the couch in their own home, so entirely not his own doing.

Alex can’t help if his boyfriend’s obsessed with touching his hair.

Anyway, case in point: tonight they’re sprawled out on said couch, Alex with a textbook, Henry with David curled up on his other side, the two of them engrossed in their third episode of Bake Off. Alex is so content that he feels warm with it, even halfway to drowsy, even though he still has another chapter or four to get through before bed.

It’s a valiant effort, staying awake, considering Henry’s wound his hand through Alex’s hair yet again, his elbow resting on Alex’s shoulder, and he smells like home when Alex buries his face into his chest, just breathing him in, breathing in this, and—wait. Wait a minute.

Alex leans back, though not far enough to pull Henry’s hand away from his hair. Not that, never that. “How dare you try to lull me to sleep with your hand in my hair right in the middle of biscuit week?” he demands, suitably indignant for someone who’s just yawned so loudly that even David looked reproachful.

Henry levels him with a bemused expression. “Darling,” he says, like Alex is being a little bit slow. “You’re the one who put my hand there.”

“What?”

“You put my hand there,” Henry repeats. The corner of his mouth twitches up in the slightest hint of a smirk, which Alex resolves to do something about momentarily. “You literally reached over about five minutes ago, wormed your way beneath my arm and then bodily forced my hand in your hair.” Almost a full-blown smirk now, and yep, Alex is definitely going to kiss it right off his face in a second. “Wouldn’t be the first time, either, in case you happened to wonder.”

Lies, Alex thinks.

“Lies,” Alex tells him. “That is not a thing.” At Henry’s look, which is altogether too smug for his liking (another lie, thinks Alex again, he actually likes it a hell of a lot), he leans back in, pressing his nose against Henry’s jawline. “But I do like it when you talk dirty to me.”

Henry’s breath gives the tiniest hitch, fingers tightening almost reflexively in Alex’s hair. It sends a full-body shudder down his spine, driving all rational thought from his mind as he presses even closer, and, well—even if it is a thing that he does (it isn’t (oh, it so, so is)), Alex can hardly be held accountable when this is the state it leaves him in, can he?

also on ao3 because why not.

#rwrb #firstprince #firstprince fic #rwrbedit #rwrbsource #i wrote a little instead of giffing today and it was nice #probs going to write a morning sex followup feat. alex's hands in henry's hair this time #henry's hair deserves some lovin' too #(the venus that's at the met btw)#(just realized the gif makes it confusing)#red white and royal blue

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strikethematch18 · 24 days

Text

I Want You

Dazai x Reader

word count: 2,001

TW: Mentions of homelessness, loss of home, housing insecurity

Reader ability is not specified.

This has not been proofed or edited

Reader has recently been evicted from her run down apartment with a weeks notice, and has problems trying to find temporary housing. She strikes out with every coworker, but leaves one out thinking it would be an automatic no.

m.list

The process of finding a place to live was much harder than you originally thought. After your apartment building was being shut down and you were forced to move by the end of week, you found yourself in a scramble to find a place to go. You didn't have much, being at the agency, you didn't spend much time in your apartment anyhow.

You did the next logical thing you could do to help your situation. You talked to the president of the ADA, see if he could point you in a direction of options, maybe the agency had a dorm available until you could figure out a more permanent solution. Unfortunately, since Atsushi had started there were no vacant apartments and he was unaware of any other buildings within your budget or could get you in as quick as you needed. He did suggest you speak to your coworkers if you could stay with one of them temporarily, and he would start with Yosano.

And you did, you traveled to the agency infirmary and asked her. Unfortunately, she was unable to allow you due to the hazards of her near fatal tools, it wouldnt be safe. From there she suggested asking someone else. With a forced smile you left and felt your stress increase tenfold.

Once you made it back to your cubical, Kunikida handed you a case file and left it to you take care of. This took you the rest of the day and returned when nearly everyone already left the office. You left for home with a sigh, prepared to start your search again tomorrow.

Upon arrival you kicked your shoes off and started the packing process. Leave the most essential items until the end, but you could start with things you didn't need everyday. Laying out outfits for the remaining time you'd need, you started folding clothes and putting them in a bag. Then came most HBA, you could just wear your hair up and hair wash day wasn't until after your move anyways, that just left soap and some hair ties. Your kitchen had the bare essentials you'd need to eat and cook, but more often than not it was fruit or cup of noodles. After analyzing what you would need to pack you took your evening shower and went to bed.

The next day started as it always does just earlier than normal. You wanted to get into the agency before as many of your coworkers as possible to not raise suspicion of your bag of clothes and toiletries. The hiding spot wasn't the most hidden, but it wouldn't be in the way and obvious either. Arriving at work, you somehow managed to just barely show up before kunikida, stuffing your bag under your desk before he could see. While you needed to move and find a place to live, you didn't want people to see how dire the situation really is.

It was a relatively slow day, a stray case here and there, some allowed you to go with your coworkers and have one on one conversations. Given the opportunity you'd ask if you could stay with them until you could find another place. So far, you were striking out.

Over the week you had collectively been bringing you things to the agency before you couldn't anymore and still had nowhere to go by the end of the day.

You couldn't impose on the brother sister duo of the Tanizaki's, so you didn't ask.

You briefly asked Kenji but stopped yourself due to his young age and mannerisms.

Kunikida turned you down due to you staying would impose on his strict schedule where everything was planned to the last second, and no where in it did it leave space for you to crash until you found a place.

Word got around to Atsushi who said he would offer but with him sharing with Kyouka, there wasn't much space.

Asking Ranpo was probably one of the worst things you could do so you didn't. And you were sure he already knew anyways.

Today your tenancy was up, all your things in the agency under your desk with no where to go. You felt so alone and unwanted even though everyone had their reasons. The only option you had was crashing at your desk or finding a street, and the desk seemed more appealing. No one asked if you had actually found a place to go for at least tonight, or maybe they assumed you did. Making up a lie that you were staying late to finish some paperwork, everyone went to their respected living arrangements. All except the former mafia executive who had been watching you and saw past your smiles and knew your nervous ticks. Dazai was the only one you hadn't asked, you just assumed it would be an automatic no and you'd already had enough rejection for the week.

You were under the guise he had left for the evening but he had instead getting something from down the hall. So you finally took a large blanket from a bag under your desk to wrap around yourself, slipped your shoes off and turned sideways in your chair and pulled your feet up to hug your knees. Finally you let the mask slip along with some tears and silent shudders. In your moment of weakness you failed to notice the bandaged man standing in the door way with a deep frown on his face. He was expecting you to possibly break at some point, but not this soon. Watching your breathing pick up he broke his trance and walked over and placed his hand on your shoulder. Not expecting anyone you flinched and looked up to see none other than Dazai himself.

Of course to save face you did your best to wipe your face of any tears and hide any sniffles trying to put the mask back on. You knew it was pointless but pretending things were fine had become your specialty recently.

Giving a strained smile and clearing your throat you addressed the dark haired man, "Hey Dazai, I thought you already went home when everyone else did, you usually leave early."

"Not today, I thought I would stay a little longer for once."

Honestly, he was staying because he knew you didn't have a place to go tonight, and the one thing he couldn't figure out was why you didn't come to him, and he planned to ask but was waiting until the right time.

"Any particular reason for acting out of character?" You asked with a forced smile.

Really what you wanted was for him to go home so you could try to sleep in your bed of an office chair until further notice. More than anything though you wanted the mask to slip, the week was exhausting physically, but also mentally and emotionally. And stopping and restarting that mask made it increase tenfold. He could see your exhaustion which was precisely why he didn't leave.

"Just reasons, thought maybe I could set up a prank of Kunikida for when he comes in tomorrow morning. and what reason do you have to be here late Y/N, curling up in your chair like that doesn't seem like working to me," he sing songedly replied.

Just for a moment you let the smile fade from your face before you forced the facade back on, "I thought maybe I could take a bit and get comfy for a break."

"There's no work on your desk."

"I'm in-between tasks right now"

"And the bags you've been hiding under your desk and around the agency over the last week?" He suddenly turned slightly monotone.

Apparently he had figured you out. It was too hard to keep the smile from slipping, but you tried nonetheless. It was hard to notice, and had you been anyone else, you wouldn't have seen the slight grimace he gave watching you try to portray something you weren't. He knew what was going on and you didn't even have to tell him, and he couldn't help but wonder why you didn't come clean.

You were unable to formulate a response, you knew it was pointless to try and fool him. He was too smart for that, too perceptive. So you did the only thing you could think of in the moment, you looked down and let your loose hair that fell out of your slightly oily bun ages ago, cover your face. There was nothing you could say, you didn’t even know why you even tried to hide your reasoning for being at the office well after closing from the Osamu Dazai.

Dazai removed his hand on your shoulder and moved it slowly towards your face, tucking the curtain of hair in front of it behind your ears one side of a time before placing two fingers under your chin and nudging it up to look at him. He was surprisingly startled by the silent tears falling down your face, leaving tracks behind. For once he doesn’t think logically, in fact he doesn’t think at all as he moves his hand to your cheek before using his thumb, wiping your tears away. That’s all it takes for you to crumble into broken pieces as your shoulder begin to shake.

”Dazai?”

He simply hums in response, desperate to not lose eye contact with you.

“How come n-no one wants m-me?” You can’t help but shudder out.

Eye contact be damned, he knew your starvation for physical touch, he knew because he was the same. He buffered for a moment at your question before he threw his arms around you, pressing you tightly into his frame as you cried, let out your shudders and whimpers in a safe space.

And he wasn’t accepting any of this, he wasn’t going to let you wallow in your own pity, ashamed of being found out for something out of your control. Dazai knew what that was like, before he had joined the mafia he had already been a master at hiding it; the only one who saw right through him was Chuuya and that ship had sailed a long time ago. So no, he was not going to let you suffer in silence anymore than you had over the past week. Not when he knew he had an answer.

Before he could stop himself, and after a few minutes as you calmed down he finally responded, “I do.”

Looking up and blinking at him like an owl you’re not quite sure you heard him right, “What?”

With a tone of certainty he repeated himself, “I do. I want you.”

Your mouth slightly agape as he took a breath to pause before continuing, “Stay with me. Come home with me.”

”I- Dazai.”

”You never asked me, why?”

”I just - I thought- I had already been rejected enough and the idea of another-“

”Would have been the straw that broke you,” he finished for you.

”Yeah.”

Before he gave you the option to decline, he grabbed the last bag you brought in this morning, obviously all the stuff you needed day to day, and put it on his shoulder. Dazai then proceeds to grab your hand, pulling you up and starts to drag you across the room.

”Dazai wait!”

“Nope, no time like the present m’lady. It’s late, want to get home before all the creepers come out to play!”

”No Dazai seriously, I need to put my shoes back on,”

Immediately he stops, runs back to your desk to gab the shoes underneath it, and proceeds to come back and kneel in front of you, forcefully putting your shoes back on your feet. All with a shit-eating grin on his face.

You gasp as he grabs your hand again and pulls you towards the stairs,

”I-Dazai-“

”Osamu.” His tone strong and serious as he interupts you.

”What?”

”Osamu. If we’re going to live together, call me by my given name.”

“Thank you, Daz- Osamu.”

#bungo stray dogs dazai #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs fanfic #bungou stray dogs #dazai fan fiction #dazai x y/n #dazai fanfic #dazai x reader #dazai bungou stray dogs #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #dazai oneshot

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untitled5071 · 3 months

Note

Here's a one shot for you(if you don't mind another one for me) Taffy finds out about the monster sooner via going into Lisa's closet. The situation ends up like that scene from Et. And Lisa makes Taffy promise to keep it secret. Honestly the monster ends up more scared from all the screaming than Taffy.

I hope you like this one, I love messing around in canon.

🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦

“Lis, have you seen my chunky white belt? I can’t remember if I ever got it back after you borrowed it for that brunch last month.”

If her stepsister responded, then Taffy couldn’t hear her, already too far away and crossing the threshold into Lisa’s bedroom to look for her missing accessory. It would go so well with the denim jacket she wanted to wear to Lori’s after practice that night, and she was sure that Lisa was the last person to wear it. Taffy was a little worried about her; she didn’t believe that she was crazy like her mom said, but she had to admit that when they came home from the movies last night and found the house trashed and Lisa, pajamas colored with a mysterious green stain and insisting it was a home break in, it didn’t look too good for her. But she was still determined to treat her as normally as possible, and give her the support their parents clearly wouldn’t.

That’s what sisters were for, after all.

Speaking of their parents, Dale had left for work already and her mom was at her morning aerobics class, so it was up to Taffy and Lisa to get themselves ready and to school on time. She hadn’t seen Lisa yet that day, their morning routines being just different enough to keep their paths from crossing. But when Taffy entered Lisa’s room, it was empty, meaning her stepsister must be either in the downstairs bathroom or having breakfast.

Humming a little Blondie to herself, Taffy crossed over to Lisa’s closet, taking a second to look at the poster of the weird moon with the face that Lisa insisted on hanging on the doors. She had tried to show Taffy the movie once, but despite her best efforts Taffy just…didn’t get it. But Lisa seemed to appreciate the fact that she tried, and that was good enough for her.

She was so engrossed in thoughts of other movies she and Lisa could watch that they might actually bond over that she didn’t really notice the man sitting on the floor of Lisa’s closet until she was already screaming.

To his credit, the man screamed too, a guttural sound made with a decaying and blackened mouth, which only made Taffy’s pitch rise. She didn’t stop as she sprinted through the bathroom, the hall, a third of the way down the stairs and smack-dab into Lisa, who was shouting and clearly headed up to see what the commotion was about. The two of them tumbled down the remaining few steps together in a jumble of limbs, landing at the bottom with a crash. Taffy didn’t even bother to assess her own bruises or ask Lisa if she was okay before she was on her feet and pulling her sister with her.

“Holy SHIT Lisa, we have to go, get up, we’ve gotta get out of here, there’s a guy in your closet, we’ve got to call 911, get to the car before he-AAAA!”

Taffy’s ramblings were cut off by a renewed bout of screams as she pointed at the specter that had just appeared at the top of the stairs, groaning at the two of them. She sidestepped as quickly as she could to get in front of Lisa in case he tried to make a move; every instinct she had was screaming for her to save herself, but she refused to let Lisa go down the same path her mom did if she could help it. But to her surprise, her sister was somehow quicker, ducking under Taffy’s arm and sprinting up the stairs so that she was stationed between the two, arms out like she was trying to break up a school fight.

“Woah woah woah, everyone just SHUT UP!”

Taffy was still getting used to hearing Lisa speak at all, so hearing her shout was incredibly effective. The sound in the room died almost immediately, the man shutting his mouth and looking a little too eager to do as Lisa said. Lisa took a deep breath before turning to Taffy, who refused to take her eyes off the stranger while her sister’s back was turned to him.

“Thank you. That’s better. Okay so, I was totally not planning on making introductions this early, or at all if I’m being honest, but here goes nothing. Taff, you remember how I was telling you about my favorite grave in Bachelor’s Grove the other night on the way to the party?”

Taffy risked taking her eyes off the sallow man at the top of the stairs just long enough to flick them to Lisa in confirmation.

Her sister held her hands up to the man in an exaggerated “ta da” gesture that left Taffy less impressed and more horrified. She looked in between the two frantically, not wanting to believe it.

“This…this is him?”

Lisa nodded, and ascended the last few stairs to join the corpse-holy fuck there was a corpse standing in her house-at the top, gently grabbing hold of his arm and pointing to where Taffy was standing in the foyer.

“My sister, Taffy.”

The dead man inclined his head and grunted in acknowledgement, and Taffy took a second to look at him. His skin was pallid and a little green, pulled tight over old bones. His right hand-was there even a hand there?-was wrapped in a green cloth, and his eye sockets were sunken, contrasting against impossibly bright pupils. His hair was shaggy and black, and he sported some totally old-fashioned mutton chops. Every alarm bell in Taffy’s head was still pinging away, but Lisa seemed perfectly comfortable around him, and she took a moment to adjust…

“Is that my green blazer?”

To her credit, Lisa had the sense to look sheepish, shrugging with a small smile.

“Sisters share?”

Before Taffy could decide if she was happy about Lisa acknowledging their sisterhood or disgusted that she took advantage of said sisterhood to give her clothes to a dead man, Lisa descended the stairs again, approaching Taffy almost cautiously while the creature watched them from above. Lisa stopped right before she got to the cheerleader, reaching out like she was going to take her hand but stopping halfway, instead choosing to fiddle with her black lace sleeves. She didn’t meet Taffy’s eyes as she spoke.

“Listen, Taff. I know this is like…a wicked big ask, but do you think you could help me keep him a secret? I don’t want him to get like…shot or burned alive or whatever, and once you get over the smell he’s really sweet, and it would really mean a lot to me. Please?”

Lisa's bright blue eyes blinked up at her, hands clasped as she pleaded. Honestly, all of this was way too much for Taffy to process at 6:45 and the morning and definitely too much for her to process sober, so she just nodded, mentally making a note to drill Lisa on the circumstances behind the corpse’s presence later, as well as the corpse’s intentions with her sister.

Lisa seemed pleased that introductions had gone better than expected. She smiled brighter than Taffy had seen her in a long time and patted her dead crush on the shoulder.

“Well, now that that’s out of the way, you need to get back into my closet, and we need to go to school to have a totally normal day of hiding totally normal secrets. Meet you at the car in 5, Taff? Okay great, see you then!”

Without waiting for an answer, Lisa gave her stepsister a hurried thumbs up and literally pushed her undead friend into her bedroom, her black lace skirts flowing behind her. Taffy stared blankly at the spot where they had been standing, wondering if she had the mental capacity to drive after all this, yet alone to do calculus, before the image of Lisa’s outfit finally resonated with her.

“Wait, is that my dress?”

#lisa frankenstein #lisa frankenstein fanfiction #Lisa frankenstein 2024 #Lisa swallows #taffy #the creature #lisa x the creature

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heart-sized · 10 months

Text

having a moment — r. lupin

★⺌◞. remus lupin x f!reader

plot : soft high school moment with your crush, remus lupin

cw : fluff content, non—hogwarts au, reader wears glasses

a/n : besties, this is inspired by real life events that happened to me omgjdheh

masterlist // moony masterlist

your stomach literally growled as the smell of homemade pasta filled your nose. oh, how you wanted to devour it. but one look at the wall clock and you knew that you had to hurry up. or else you would be late for school.

brushing your twin braids with your fingers and taking your school bag, you galloped towards the school. it had been much easier when you used to take the school bus. but money was tight and it's not like walking to school would do you any harm. yeah, right, except severe leg cramps.

the school wasn't much far and soon you found yourself stepping inside your first class. biology with miss felicity who was the complete antonym of her name. she was anything but lovable. your eyes found remus lupin sitting on the last desk and as usual, your heart skipped a beat. you felt something warm and fuzzy in your stomach.

your desk was just two desks ahead of him and somehow you loved this, knowing that it was the only proximity you could get.

you didn't know how it happened. you had known him since grade fifth and hadn't thought much of him. until sophomore year.

“y/n─” your best friend startled you. “─you are late!”

forcing your eyes back to your best friend, you gave her a guilty smile and slid down next to her. “i'm so sorry, lily. i got up late and could not even eat breakfast today!”

“aw, you poor baby,” lily caressed your hand gently. “by the way, do yo─”

“─why didn't you eat anything?” she was cut off by remus who was staring intently at you two, or more like, you.

in moments like these, you wished that your vocal cords wouldn't betray you, but alas. you loved how his words disturbed the rhythm of your pulse though.

“um, i got up late,” your words were fast and full of shyness and your eyes were not meeting his. something that you hated. maybe that's why remus avoided talking to you. who would ever want to talk to someone as pathetic to you?

you flung your eyes back to him and noted that he was still looking at you. his lips bent into a crooked smile as he pointed towards your best friend. “learn something from lily evans. she never forgets to eat at any cost.”

he was such a person. always playful and nice. something that popular boys weren't supposed to be. at least, not wattpad boys.

lily scowled. “please. i don't eat all the time! and stop cutting me off.”

a deep laughter vibrated from his chest and you sucked a breath. you almost felt jealous of your best friend. why, lily was the one making him laugh. when it should have been you. if you hadn't noticed so closely, you would have thought that he liked her. but that's not the case. their banter was playful, like that of siblings.

“where did you zone out?” you best friend asked as you turned back to your original positions. “that was a huge space out, by the way.”

“nothing much,” the lies rolled off easily. “just wondering about stuff.”

“stuff, hum?” lily had a roguish grin on her face. “sometimes i ponder if this ‘stuff’ is actually a guy.”

your heartbeat skyrocketed and your eyes widened visibly as you stared back at your best friend who was grinning ear to ear. what could you even tell her?

“of course not,” you waved your hand in dismissal, too guilty to stare at her. “lemme study now, okay?”

“okay ...” your best friend drawled in. “but i know what's up.”

“shut up!”

you were never the one to fond over physical labour. you'd rather sleep your day out rather than to engage in hiking or walking or whatever sort of stuff people used to do. walking back to home was not your forte. hell, your school bag felt too heavy and the distance much longer.

your only comfort was that remus would be near too. you two shared the same route till half the distance and usually, you'd walk slowly so you could gaze at him freely from behind.

but not today. there was no sight of him anywhere ahead of you and your mood was bitter, much like the nutritious drink in your hand.

today's so pathetic. you thought until you heard a voice calling out your name. well, it didn't turn pathetic at all.

“y/n─” you saw remus running towards you, his school bag on his back and his hair glistening with sweat. “─are you deaf or what?”

okay, you didn't expect him to say that.

“why?” you set your chin up high, meeting his gaze.

“because you're,” he ran his fingers over his hair. “i've been hollering your name like crazy for the past five minutes and you were walking along unaffected. now i'm confused whether you're actually deaf or i'm being ignored.”

the irony. you could never ever even think of ignoring him.

“i wasn't ignoring you,” you fixed your glasses up. “i was just lost in thought.”

“lost in thought and careless,” he commented as he fixed the strap of your school bag up which was lying low on your arm. you felt your arm burn at the touch of his fingers. “i wonder what goes inside your brain.”

how ironic it'd be if you answered it truly.

“i beg your pardon but not all of us have a genius mind like you.”

remus really had a photogenic memory, even though he claimed that he never studied.

“is that jealousy, i presume?” amusement laced his voice as he started walking along you. you mentally squirmed.

“of course not,” you mustered truthfully. “i don't get jealous over grades.”

“i know,” there was a faint trace of a smile on his face. “you don't care about my grades or the number of hours i study or what textbooks i use.”

“why would i?” you furrowed your eyebrows and then realised how rude you sounded. “i mean, why would i bother in someone's personal business? i'd much rather ask about you.”

crap. did you really blurt that out?

“would you now?”

“i didn't mean it in that way,” you punched your forehead lightly and he grinned at you.

“you silly girl,” he laughed and held your hands on his. “let us walk together”

walking together? was it a date? did remus like you or was it more of a 'i-pity-you-silly-girl' walk.

whatever. you were content with walking together.

“will you come to school tomorrow?” he slowly asked and your lips parted a bit. will it matter to you if i come or not? you almost blurted it out but stopped yourself on time.

“um, yeah, i don't like missing school.” because it's the only time i can see you.

" so do i. "

you looked up at his eyes and he looked back at yours. was this what they called 'having a moment' in wattpad? because if it was, then you very much loved having a moment with remus lupin.

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notsofunsenpai · 1 month

Text

Didn't proofread,so if there's spelling mistakes and grammar issues, forgive me,it's 2am😭😭

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Lucifer was walking with Charlie as he pushes the buggy,he would gotten one with the animal shaped ones but they were all taken,and at this place they don't have a place for Charlie to sit so she's walking. Boy, did he regret that because the first thing his little devil did was run straight to everything,trying to catch up with her fast little legs."My little duckling,please slow down. Have mercy on your mama." He says. Charlie didn't hear him she was busy looking at everything along with touching everything. lucifer spent like twenty minutes casing after Charlie,telling her to come back when she got to far away from her,he also had to take things from her because he doesn't want her to accidentally swollen anything that she'll choke on,he won't hear the end of that. Finally, at last, he just decides to hold in one arm as he drives the cart in the other. Charlie squirmed around,trying to be freed,"fweee!" She says,huffing and pouting.

"No honey,I might get in trouble if something happens to you, and I don't want Dada to strangle me or put me on the couch with no snuggles for weeks!"He says to her, but Charlie kept moving around,and eventually, he let her go,but kept an eye on her. He managed to get everything he needed,milk,cleaning stuff,and stuff for Jambalaya along with other foods they needed. He also brought Charlie some snacks and toys,even though she has plenty at home. He paid for everything then they went back home,he lets Charlie free from her carseat,helping her out of the car as she goes inside to play with her new toys as Alastor smiles softly at her as he goes and help Lucifer with some of the bags but before that he gives him a kiss on the cheek.

"I missed you." He said, smiling at his lover who grins back at him.

"See told you,you'd missed me!" Lucifer says as Alastor rolls his eyes as they carry the stuff in,along with closing the truck and locking the car up. They got things out of the bags,throwing the plastic bags into recycling,Lucifer started putting stuff away as Alastor started making dinner.

Once lucifer was done, he went to play with her and her new toys. They played till they were called for dinner, and the three sat conversing while eating. Which somehow ended up with Lucifer and Alastor competing for Charlie's love. The two sat next to Charlie,"Char Char, if you share your food with me, it means you loove me more than dada." He said opening his mouth,hoping she'll give him some of her food. Alastor scoffs at him,"Darling,with you share with me I'll make any dessert you desire." He smiles softly at his daughter. Charlie immediately give some of her food to her dad,who smiles at Lucifer with a smirk. "Not fair!" Lucifer pouts,putting his hands on his face pretending to cry. Charlie frowns,tilting her head,"Mwma? Crying?" She didn't like seeing her parents sad or crying,it makes her sad,she uses her hand to grab some of her food,"Mawa no Saad! Hwere!" She said as Lucifer peeks out from his hands,with a smile and open his mouth,letting his daughter feed him.

"I still won."

"Shut it." Lucifer said chewing.

"Mama,feel better?" Charlie asked.

The blonde nods with a smile making his daughter smile,they finished their meal and went to the living room to family time which was basically playing with Charlie and also teaching her new words and such. Also Lucifer finally put away the clothes that were in the dryer whenever he got up,he put the clothes back where they belong and when he was finished he cleaned Charlie up while Alastor did the dishes and put away the toys and such.

Lucifer was currently laying next to Charlie,reading her a bedtime story about a Queen and finding her lost King,which Charlie enjoyed alot.

She looked at him,"Mawa Dada's Queen?" She asked tilting her head at the other blonde.

Lucifer feels himself smile as his ears heat up,"Yes I'm your father's Queen,we love and cherish each other and fightt against the evil bad guys who dare separate us!" He dramatically says,earning a happy squeal from Charlie.

"Come on kiddo,we gotta get you to bed." He said tucking her in along with giving her a good night kiss on the head.

"Good night my little demon. " He smiles softly at his daughter.

"Good night." She says before closing her eyes.

Lucifer then leaves Charlie's room,making sure to spray the bathroom and under her bed for monsters before he left and leaving the door open just a crack so they can hear her if she wakes up.

Lucifer goes back to the shared room as he see Alastor drying his hair while on the bed,"How's my lovely queen on this night hmm?" He hears his partner asking.

"How much did you hear?" Lucifer replied,turning red again.

"Just enough." The other replied,putting the towel down and brushing his hair as the fallen angel sits next to him.

"How embarrassing. "

"I found it quite cute." The radio demon says,kissing his lover softly.

"You're cuter." Luci retorts.

His Bambi raises his eyebrow at him,"You've mistaken,I can not be cuter when you're so submissive and bratty while listening to everything I say and do,plus the way you look at me sometimes darling is the most wonderful thing I laid my eyes on.",he said touching Lucifer's chin,bringing him in for kiss.

"Don't say things like tha-"

Tap

They both turn their heads as the heard some noises,Alastor's ears were perked up,"Thought you put our little angel to bed?" He asked.

"I did too..though it did feel to easy how fast she went to 'sleep'."

"I'll handle this." Alastor said,getting up from the bed.

"Don't be to harsh on her." The blonde pouts at him.

"That will depend on what she's getting her little hands on and how bad it is." He said,disappearing.

Lucifer laid back onto the bed,touching his lips still with the same pout on his face,"I'm not cute .."He says waiting for his partner to come back and tell him what Charlie got into.

#hello tumblr #no proofreading we die like men #fanfic #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #radioapple #appleradio #little charlie #soft lucifer #soft alastor #my writing

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petersprincesss · 2 years

Text

Liar - Peter Ballard x Reader

You're sent out to the lab to inspect a leak in the ceiling. What you end up finding is much more interesting.

Howdy! This is my first time writing in Stranger Things, so it's nice to meet ya'll! I'm open to continuing this work if you are interested in it, but I really wanted to get this first section out in the meantime. Thank you for reading!

Rating: Explicit

Category: F/M

Relationships:

Peter Ballard/Reader

Peter Ballard/You

001/you

001/reader

Characters:

Peter Ballard

Henry Creel

001

Vecna (Stranger Things)

Martin Brenner

Additional Tags:

Dom/sub

Smut

Choking

Edging

almost noncon

dubcon

dom peter ballard

Insurance Adjuster. Such a glamorous title. Unfortunately, it seemed to bring more boredom than excitement, and checking out a leak inside Hawkins Lab sounded like it was going to be par for the course.

A man named Dr. Brenner had requested someone to come out and look at the damage a few days ago. As much as you didn’t want to make the drive to the remote location alone, it was your turn in the barrel.

The outside of the lab was nothing to write home about. Dull, gray concrete shrouded the exterior, the building cradled by dead trees and subdued brown grass. You pulled your car into a spot near the main entrance, noting the covert nature of the structure.

After making your way through the secure entrance, a receptionist led you down the dimly-lit hallways in promises of helping you find Dr. Brenner. You clutched your legal pad close to you, careful not to look too curious or let your eyes wander too far. You had heard this establishment was not friendly toward outsiders, and did its best to keep whatever secrets it was hiding to itself. A part of you was genuinely surprised that they were letting you inside, but it was your job, and you knew all too well that many large companies would take whatever handouts their insurance would give them.

Once you reached a heavy wooden door that bared Brenner’s name and title on its frosted glass window, the receptionist knocked gently. A voice on the other side instructed her to enter, and she opened the door, allowing you to step inside his office.

“Dr. Brenner, I’m-”

“Y/N,” he cut you off, already aware of who you were, “thank you for coming out on such short notice.”

Dr. Brenner stood from his noble wooden desk, removing a pair of reading glasses from his broad nose and set them on a stack of paperwork atop his workspace. He stepped around towards you and gave you a rather unassuming handshake.

“Not a problem, sir. Would you mind showing me the area of concern?” You requested, readying your notepad for whatever descriptions he may offer.

“Yes, of course, it’s just down the hall,” he informed, reaching behind you to hold his door open, allowing you and the secretary to exit. Dr. Brenner guided you further down the hall in the opposite direction you came, parting ways with the woman who led you there.

The hallways were grim, the entire building reeked of disinfectants and unidentifiable chemicals. The passages reminded you of a hospital that was somehow less homely than any medical setting you had been in before. The sound of your footsteps in stride with another slid across the smoothly glazed white tiles and echoed in your ears.

“The leak started roughly a week ago, we believe. It’s in a corner that doesn’t have a high volume of traffic, so I’m afraid it may have gone unnoticed for some time. Luckily, we were able to shut off the water a couple of days back, so the damage has not spread further,” Dr. Brenner described as you both came to the end of a corridor. A brown stain had formed in the tiles of the ceiling and the scent of mold crept into your nose. You clicked your pen and began jotting down a description of the damage. It was a rather unexciting blemish, and you shook your head to yourself, knowing that this would be another case of corporate greed.

“Have you seen damage anywhere else? Is there a floor above this?” You asked, still scrawling chicken scratches in your yellow notepad.

“It had to have been a pipe above these tiles. The room above this remains undamaged,” Dr. Brenner explained.

“Understood,” you nodded, clicking your pen and looking up to study the well-dressed gentleman, “I’m going to need someone from maintenance to get a ladder so I can move the tile and take a peek at where the leak originated.”

Dr. Brenner exhaled a bothered sigh, “Of course. Let me call-”

He was cut off by the secretary practically sliding around the corner, “Dr. Brenner!” She breathed, “you have a phone call!”

“Donna, can’t you see I’m a little preoccupied?” The doctor huffed.

“It’s urgent,” she remarked sternly, still attempting to catch her breath.

“God dammit,” Dr. Brenner muttered under his breath, “I’ll send someone from maintenance to help you. Please stay here until they arrive. Oh, and please do report back your findings to me upon your exit.”

The white-haired doctor stepped purposefully after the receptionist, leaving you alone with the blotch on the ceiling. You stared at the corner they disappeared around until the sound of their footsteps receded, hearing only the buzzing of the fluorescent lights above you.

“Please do report back your findings to me upon your exit,” you mocked under your breath, attempting to fill the eerie silence, “Whatever you say.”

Time practically stood still in the desaturated aisles. What exactly was behind these white tiles anyway? What could be so important? You checked your wrist watch. Barely two minutes had passed. You could have sworn it had been at least five. Your eyes trailed up and down the smooth walls, the bull-nosed edges on the corners of the walls in stark contrast to the strict lines of the stack-bonded glazed tile. Looking back towards the ceiling and the stain that had now become your only company, you noticed a red light glowing in the corner of the hallway. A little black camera watched you, surely tracking your every move. The red eyeball taunting you, reminding you that although you may feel lonely, you are not alone.

“I don’t have time to wait for this creep to send someone. There has to be a janitor somewhere.”

You confidently strode off, marching down the hallway, rounding a different corner than the one the doctor and receptionist had vanished behind moments ago. All of the doors and hallways blended together. Some doors were double, some only single, but all painted the same drab off-white, none marked as to what was behind them. Doors, white tile, and cameras all becoming more and more of a blur with each corner you turn.

Finally, you come across a door with something to give you a clue.

That was all the text on the outside had to offer. Ten.

“Ten of what?”

You tuned the handle out of curiosity, but unsurprisingly, it was locked. Determined to find someone, you continued down the hall.

“Not helpful.”

Finally, another set of double doors, although not marked. As you approached, the sound of a child’s laughter danced in your ear. Cautiously, you stepped closer, shifting your weight to the front of your feet inside your modestly-high heeled shoes in hopes of gaining more insight as to what a child could possibly be doing in a place like this. You leaned onto one of the doors, gently enough to make sure you could only listen and not open the door and give yourself away. More giggling emanated from behind the door, the sound of children scurrying about and chattering with each other.

Your curiosity had you in a chokehold now. You had to know what was behind the door, Dr. Brenner be damned.

You pushed benignly on the door, careful only to open it exactly the width of your eye. You took a deep breath as your body hovered closer to the opening, peering inside what felt like another dimension.

Your eyes were met with a site you wouldn’t expect. Children, all wearing hospital gowns bustling about, each playing with a toy or a friend. The walls, although still white and sterile, had tiles running through them, colored in the order of a perfectly neat rainbow. Red blocks in orderly stacks, silver marbles clattering together on a wooden board, and toy cars humming along the clean vinyl floor. Nothing out of its place, yet nothing overly polished either. Your eyes trailed all throughout the room until they were met with another set of eyes, staring directly at you, unwavering in their gaze.

You jerked away from the door in shock. You were certain you were not supposed to be seen, and this would be your only warning. But your mind flashed back to the pair of eyes. A sea of blue amidst the insipid chaos, shaded only by a slew of the softest blonde hair.

You leaned back onto the cool tile next to the door, taking a deep breath. Just as you closed your eyes and exhaled a sigh of relief, the door swung back, and that blonde hair made an appearance again. The man beneath it was taller than you had expected, standing over you by a decent measurement. His body was clothed in a pressed white shirt and clean-cut trousers. A black leather belt cut a noticeable contrast through his waist that you couldn’t help but survey. Elegant lines of white shrouded him in a mystery that you couldn’t help but desire to solve.

“Can I help you?” The voice beneath the blonde locks spoke. His tone was light and delicate, asking you genuinely.

“Oh, I uhm,” you sputtered, your brain a jumbled mess, trying its best to process everything you had just taken in, “My name is Y/N, I’m here with the insurance agency, I was looking for a janitor and I must have gotten lost, I was just looking-”

“It’s okay, I know this place is confusing. Let me get you where you need to be,” he offered kindly, a delicate grin spreading across his lips.

You smiled back, biting the edge of your lip nervously. You couldn’t help but admire his charming features, and you welcomed the company of someone so helpful and alluring.

“My name is Peter, by the way,” he spoke as the two of you stepped down the hallway. He clasped his hands together behind his back, looking over to you.

“Pleased to meet you, Peter. I appreciate your help, I’m afraid I got a bit turned around…” your voice trailed off. You weren’t sure how truthful to be. Your eyes darted up towards yet another camera in the ceiling, staring down at the two of you.

“It’s okay, this place feels very complicated at first,” he reassured you. He was so understanding and mellow. Your heart rate returned to a normal place, sensing you were now protected and guided.

“What, um, what exactly was that room? I didn’t expect to see children here,” you let out a nervous chuckle, hoping he would find humor in the situation as well.

“Well, it’s a bit of a story. I’m assuming you weren’t told much before you came here, right?’

You shook your head, “Nearly nothing. I’m just an insurance adjuster looking at a leak in the ceiling.”

You could sense Peter was ready to lay a truth on you that you may not have been ready to receive, when you heard a determined pair of footsteps advance on the two of you from behind.

“Ah, Y/N, Peter, I see you two have met,” a familiar voice spoke. The pair of you turned around to see Dr. Brenner, now standing at your heels.

“I caught her sticking her nose where it shouldn’t have been,” Peter spoke. Your eyes shot over to his, but he denied you his warm eye contact.

“That was my greatest fear,” Dr. Brenner sighed, placing his hands on his hips and tilting his jaw back towards the ceiling.

“What? No, I-” You began, but you were cut off

“She claims she’s an insurance adjuster, but I’m not sure I buy it,” Peter said, finally turning his gaze back to you, running his eyes up and down your frame as if to gauge your abilities.

Your eyes met his again, but they were not the same cerulean pools of comfort you had seen before. They now presented as icy and dominant.

“What? No, Dr. Brenner, you spoke to my agent, he sent me here, you know that’s the truth,” you began to plead.

“Did she see anything?” Brenner quizzed.

“The Rainbow Room,” Peter responded, his voice now void of any emotion, cocking his head to one side, his face dropping any kindness it previously held.

Dr. Brenner let out an exhausted breath in frustration as he closed his eyes.

“Get rid of her. Make sure she does not return,” he demanded.

Dr. Brenner turned sharply on his heel as Peter grasped ahold of your elbow with such force that you dropped your notepad, your pen clattering on the floor.

“Come with me,” Peter instructed, dragging you away towards what you only hoped was an exit.

“Peter, no- Dr. Brenner! Please!” You cried out, trying to jerk yourself away from his tenacious grip.

The two of you shuffled down the hallway, practically dancing as you attempted to slip his grasp. You noticed his cheekbones flex as he clenched his jaw, determined to keep you at his side. You had a solid feeling that you could out-run him, given the opportunity, it was only a matter of freeing yourself beforehand. You turned your elbow inward, writhing your arm away from him and felt your only chance. You wasted no time breaking into a sprint, your legs striding as fast as your body would allow, your toes jamming into the front of your shoes with each step.

The corridor came to an end with a tight corner, and as you slipped around the side of the wall, you felt a strong palm slap onto your wrist and nails digging into your skin.

“Peter, please! Please, just let me go!”

“Not a chance, sweetheart,” Peter taunted, pulling your arm behind your back, pinning your wrist between your shoulder blades in an uncomfortable predicament. His other hand met your once-freed forearm and latched onto you, taking no chances on your escape.

You thrashed beneath his hold, both of you panting and grunting at the futile attempts to defeat the other. Fed up with your squirming, Peter slammed you into a closed door, flipping your body around so you were now face-to-face with the once loving and trustworthy orderly, his hands locked onto your shoulders, holding you steady. His eyes bore into yours, his pupils darting back and forth between your right and left eyes as if searching for something he had not previously detected.

“What do you want from me?” You asked desperately, willing to offer anything in exchange for your freedom.

“I want you,” he began, his eyes trailing away from yours and down your neck, “to behave.”

You writhed beneath him again and his eyes shot back up to yours.

“Can you do that?”

“Go to hell.”

You spat directly into his eye, hoping it would catch him off guard enough to release you. He clenched his eyes shut tightly, tilting his head to the floor and tightened his grasp on your shoulders, sliding them down to your biceps.

“You’re going to wish you hadn’t done that,” Peter grinned up at you.

His right hand left you momentarily to reach down and open the door you were plastered to. You fell back into the room once hidden by the doorway and attempted to stay on two feet. Your eyes scanned the room, hopelessly searching for anything that may aid you. You were met with only black square tiles lined with silver framing, a one-way mirror on one wall and a desolate silver table across the vacant room. Your eyes flashed up to the camera in the corner, only to find that the red light that had stared you down so dauntingly before was missing.

Peter stood in the doorway, his face tilted downward disapprovingly and his eyes peering upward from beneath his eyebrows.

“Peter,” you breathed, your chest rising and falling rapidly as your feet slid discreetly away from him.

“Yes?”

“I trusted you, I need you to trust me too.”

“Oh, I trust you entirely,” he began, stepping into the room, sliding his slender hand around the door’s handle and closing it behind him, never letting his gaze leave your frame, “I know you’re telling the truth.”

“What? But then, why… why are you doing this?” Your heart was racing inconsistently, never certain what was coming.

“Can’t you see? This was the plan from the beginning.”

Peter’s face changed again, as if he was a shifting creature that defied the laws of Earth. His intimidating stare turned back to a grin, but it was not the same delightful grin he offered when he first exited the Rainbow Room.

“I don’t understand…” your voice trailed off. You fell motionless as he stalked towards you.

“From the moment I saw your lovely little eyes peek into that room, I knew I wanted you. I felt your presence long before you leaned against that door.”

You wanted to question how any of this was feasible, but with everything that had transpired within the last twenty minutes alone, you had learned to stop questioning what constituted reality inside the Hawkins Lab.

A burning within you knew you felt the same. The way those sapphire eyes gleamed when you first locked eye contact with him, the fact that you couldn’t help but glance down at his leather belt and the pleats in his pants, how his flesh felt against yours, how easily he tamed you, all of it, playing on a loop in the back of your head as you watched his body close the gap between yours.

“I know that’s what you want too. I felt that the moment you stepped in here as well,” Peter taunted. With the door closed, the two of you were fully alone, completely forsaken by anyone else.

He was right. You knew he was completely correct. But here? Now?

Your body shifted, feeling the adrenaline switch from a fight or flight response into pure lust. The tension between your shoulders released as you felt your foot delicately take a step towards Peter.

“Please, Peter,” you began to beg as your bodies drew in closer. He reached out a hand towards you, placing his index finger beneath your chin and his thumb on top of it, tilting your jaw up towards him.

“Please, what?”

“Please, I do want this,” you heard yourself gasp.

Your breath hitched, your stomach dropping so rapidly you could hardly register any signals in your brain. Peter brought a gentle hand up to the small of your back, his eyes still perforating yours, edged with grandeur desires of ownership.

“Good.”

You looked down at your feet, standing so timidly between his wide stance. Your eyes instinctively fluttered shut as he brought his face forward, his lips brushing against yours dearly. He kissed you with the possessiveness you didn’t know you craved, his tongue adventurously exploring the gap between your teeth and bottom lip, swiping back and forth as if asking permission to venture further. Your shoulders relaxed, your hands falling faintly at your sides, your knees ready to buckle. You expected your body to fold and bow before him, and you likely would have if it weren’t for his stern hold on your lower back, pulling your torsos together effortlessly.

You inhaled sharply as you pulled away from his kiss, your eyes floating up to meet his. You couldn’t help it any longer, the heat in your abdomen was ready to ignite, you needed him now. Your fingers crawled up to the collar of his polished white uniform, your nails drawing invisible lines, tracing over his chest as you began to undo his top button. Peter grasped your wrists with a jolt, halting you instantly.

“Ladies first,” he instructed.

Peter released your wrists and his hands darted for the buttons of your blouse. He took his time, delicately removing a button from its assigned spot and sliding it out from beneath the fabric. Seconds turned into hours in your mind, your frustration mounting.

“Fucking… waste of time,” Peter growled, digging his hands under your collar and pulling away in opposite directions. An orgasmic sigh lept from within you as the buttons of your blouse popped off individually and trickled down onto the vinyl floor, leaving your heaving chest exposed for the orderly to explore.

Both of Peter’s hands found their way to either side of your head, nesting in your hair behind your ears as he selfishly kissed you again, practically swallowing your tongue. You rested your forearms on his shoulders, crossing your wrists behind his neck as he leaned into you forcefully. His right hand trailed down your neck, his fingernails carving a path from your ear to your collarbone.Your hand found its way to the back of his skull and you gripped a fistfull of that soft blonde hair that had caught your eye previously. Peter’s kiss stopped, his lips trailing rapidly down your cheek to your neck, sliding his hand away to make room for his teeth to graze your hastily rising pulse.

You moaned gently into his ear resting comfortably beside your lips, each breath praising him and thanking his actions. Peter’s hands left your upper body and his fingers began sliding up your thighs beneath your skirt, practically clawing at your skin. His thumb settled gently on your center, sending a slick shiver up your spine that erupted in a wanton moan escaping your lips.

Peter rested one hand atop your shoulder, his other finding its way to your waist. His forehead lifted up and pressed into yours, his eyes just inches away, his breath falling into you with a heat that demanded your attention. He stepped back into you, each of you falling into a familiar dance as he guided you towards the silver metal table on the opposite end of the room. His thumb wavered back and forth, tenderly massaging your cheek as he looked through you. The back of your thighs finally met the cool edge of the table he escorted you to.

“Sit,” he instructed, placing both hands at your waist and lifting you slightly so that your legs dangled off the ledge. Both of his hands relaxed on either side of your neck, his thumbs rubbing along your jawline.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he confessed.

“You won’t,” you promised, knowing you meant it.

“Are you sure?” Peter asked. His voice reverted back to the kind and caring fashion that you recognized when you first met him.

“I’m positive,” you breathed, frightened that you might have to concede to begging him if he didn’t give you what you needed immediately.

“What if,” he began, his voice trailing off as he turned his face away from you for the first time since you had stepped into the room together. He physically bit his tongue as if he was afraid to confess his thoughts.

“What?” You panted, growing more and more impatient, “What if what?”

“What if I want to play rough?”

Your chest heaved, your heated breath bathing his porcelain skin, your stomach dropping further into your abdomen.

“I want you to be rough with me,” you practically ordered.

Peter grinned, exhaling a sigh of relief that you were up to his challenge. He had waited so long to be with someone like you. To please someone as angelic as you. He wanted so desperately to satisfy you, to draw shameless moans from within you and hear them spill out of you, removing your control.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed his hair back out of his face and slipped back into his domineering headspace.

“Spread your legs for me, sweetheart.”

You obeyed him, leaning back onto your palms allowing your thighs to glide across the frigid tabletop. Peter knelt down onto one knee, leveling his eyes with your center. He watched you intently, his cherubic eyes never leaving yours. He wanted to relish in every movement you made.

His touch glided up your legs once more, his curious fingers hooking around the top of your undergarments. Never breaking eye contact, he slipped them out from beneath your skirt, dragging out the process to a glacial pace that further accelerated your winded breaths. The chilled, conditioned air breezed over your delicate skin, sending a surge of goosebumps down your body. Once your undergarments fell to the floor, he stood back to his full height, rising above you. His arm stretched out and he slipped a hand over the front of your neck, feeling your hurried pulse beneath his touch.

“Someone’s anxious,” he remarked, tilting his head inquisitively.

“I’m ready for you,” you told him. You had a premonition he wanted you to beg him to go further, beg him to ruin you, but you weren’t ready to give in so easily.

“I don’t think you are,” he disagreed, “but I think you can prove me wrong.”

“And how do you want me to do that?” You smiled up at him, longing for him to tame you.

“Beg me.”

Your heart sank, not out of disappointment that your vision had come true, but out of pure lust. You bit your bottom lip, lowering your chin to your chest so you could stare at Peter innocently below your fluttering eyelashes.

“Please, Peter.”

“Please what?” Peter questioned. His grip tightened slightly on your throat, pushing just roughly enough that you felt your heartbeat rise inside your brain.

“Do you want me to make a mess of you?” He asked.

“Yes, please. Please make a mess of me,” you begged.

“Good girl.”

Peter eased his grip on your neck and reached down to unzip his white trousers. You watched his slender hands feverishly, your mind racing with endless possibilities. You instinctively edged yourself closer to the brink of the table, widening your legs so he could take you immediately.

Peter pulled himself from the opening of his zipper, guiding himself towards you. He stopped just as he touched your entrance.

“You sure you want this?”

“Peter, fucking fuck me!”

He wasted no time, pushing into you swiftly. He let out a pornographic groan as you tightened around him, feeling your warmth engulf him entirely. You squeezed your eyes shut, biting your lip to keep yourself from moaning. You wanted to hear every delirious note that left his mouth.

He set a rhythm at once, wasting not a precious second inside you. His moans flowed into you and you sent them back, the two of you inhaling and exhaling each other’s desire. His right palm slithered around the back of your neck, pushing your head down so your vision was filled only with him thrusting into you.

“That’s right, watch me fuck you,” he praised. His left hand wrapped around the back of your knee, pulling you up onto him. Fingers still in place, his thumb snaked around your throat, pushing delicately into your trachea just enough to keep your breathing under his control. Both of your hands found his shoulders, the ridges of your nails clawing into his shirt, helplessly looking for something to ground you amidst the intense waves of pleasure cascading inside you.

“God, Peter!” You exclaimed, formal sentences now foreign to you.

“God can’t help you,” Peter snarled.

His clench changed positions to your throat, pushing you supine onto the table, causing you to tighten your grip onto him. He slammed an open palm down onto the metal surface next to your head, drawing his face up next to yours so that the tips of your noses brushed against one another. A bead of sweat dripped from his forehead, the next drop forming beneath a now-tangled mess of blonde strands. Your arms fell back openly around you as you ratcheted your head back, allowing him further access to your neck. Your ankles crossed together behind him, nudging his body closer to yours.

Peter buried his face between your shoulder and head, his lips grazing your ear, presenting you with his animalistic moans up close. The sound alone was enough to send heat waves from your head to your core. Peter bit down on your soft flesh, gnawing tenderly beneath your earlobe. You felt like a teenager again, knowing you would walk away with blue and purple petals blooming within your skin that would demand attention, declaring that Peter Ballard fucking owned you.

“I’m going to c-” You began to say, but just as the last syllables left your tongue, Peter pulled away immediately, rising back up to a stance, removing himself entirely from you.

“Did I fucking tell you that you could cum?” He catechized emotionlessly, raising one eyebrow.

“N- No, I-”

Peter laid down a hard smack on the inside of your thigh, mere inches from your tender core, forcing you to emit an unexpected squeal.

“You don’t do fucking anything unless I tell you to,” he instructed.

“Yes, Peter,” you nodded, knowing you’d commit any acts necessary to have him inside you again.

“Good. Flip over.”

You followed his commands, the tips of your toes barely touching the floor while you supported yourself on your elbows, your flushed cheeks meeting the table’s surface.

His foot kicked the inside of your ankle, spreading your stance farther apart. Peter shoved your skirt up so it rested ambiguously atop your hips, then shifted a hand to the crook of your pelvis, pulling your entrance up to meet him again.

“Give me that,” he commanded, snatching your wrist and twisting it so that it was pinned against your back in a familiar fashion. Each muscle and tendon within you felt stretched to its limit, your body attempting to keep his precarious positioning of you with whatever strength you could still identify.

More gradually than before, Peter sunk back into you, swiftly bottoming out. He accelerated back to his previous pace as if he was anxious that he wasn’t going to have enough time inside you. His grip crawled away from your hip to push his messy blonde mane back once more. Peter’s fingers then tangled into your own hair, wrapping themselves around each lock so he could force your head up and curve your spine backwards.

Each thrust into you only brought you closer towards your climax, you were running out of time to ask for his permission to release, and you knew he could feel it creeping closer.

“What’s the matter, Y/N, are you trying to hold it for me?” Peter chuckled, yanking your hair back harder towards his chest. The sound of him speaking your name between each labored breath alone nearly pushed you over the edge.

“Yes, oh my God, Peter please!”

Peter unleashed a devilish smile and shook his head.

“Poor little Y/N, can’t keep herself from cumming even when she knows she’s not allowed to.”

His cocky arrogance and handsome grin mixed with the pressure building on your cervix was too much, you felt yourself step off the edge and fall aimlessly into a heaven you didn’t know could be found on Earth. Your brain let go, each wave of pleasure detonating within you with a force you were unaware you possessed.

“Fucking hell, you’re going to make me cum,” Peter grunted.

He released his hold on your hair and wrist, focusing his touch on your hips, greedily pulling you back further onto him. His words were a blur to you, hanging in the empty room, waiting for you to return to your body and register them. A warmth engulfed your torso, drifting from your core, up your back to your brain. You felt Peter release inside you, his grasp still anchored to your hips.

The two of you waited there motionless, attempting to fill your lungs with enough air to bring you back to reality. Your eyelids fell heavy, your entire body strung out from the intense shockwave he had given to you. Shaking with satisfaction, you brought your arms in front of you, immediately feeling a soreness emanate from them as you pushed yourself back up to a standing position, your skirt sliding down over the dripping mess Peter had just made of you.

Peter clutched the back of your neck once more and spun you around, crashing his lips into yours. Although still fully in control, that gentle spirit that first attracted you to him broke through, a glowing and peaceful aura returning to his electric touch.

“Thank you,” you gasped, breaking away from him, unsure of what else you could offer up.

“No, thank you, Y/N,” he replied, those polite blue eyes penetrating yours.

“I think I should, um, probably leave. I mean, I don’t want you to get in trouble,” you offered. Reality’s gray tones set back in, and you knew the doctor you had met with at the beginning of this ordeal would likely be looking for both of you at this point.

“What makes you think I’m the one in trouble here?” Peter asked, his eyes glazing over, “I’ve only just started with you.”

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