#my titles suck extra hard this week

[heeverseblog]

take me away (sjy)

pairing: vampire!jake x human!reader

summary: you’re in a secret relationship with one of the hottest male ceos in korea. but that’s not the real secret. the real secret? he’s a vampire.

genre: SMUT, established secret relationship, vampire au, rich people au

warnings: oral (male and fem receiving) a lot of cursing, jake sucks reader’s blood, it's filthy ngl

note: reader and sunghoon aren’t officially engaged so no form of cheating was involved

*read more under the cut*

***

your parents wanted you to attend this masquerade ball where elites such as your family are invited.

you’re an heiress to your father’s interior business that his family’s worked hard for years. when really, he only ended up having the title because his older brother died when your father was 17 and he was the only heir left.

but like any other child, he was forced to marry your mother and like where you are now, they met at a ball and ended up getting married a week later. except they didn’t meet at a masquerade ball.

anyway. that’s why you’re here. your dad wants to marry you off with park sunghoon since his father owned one of korea’s richest banks.

you’ve met sunghoon once and he was nice. but that’s it. you don’t like him like that nor want to start anything with him.

“y/n!”

you roll your eyes, pissed that you were enjoying your glass of champagne. but being the professional person you were, you turn around and greeted sunghoon.

“park sunghoon.”

“you having a pleasant evening?”

i was until you arrived.

“my glass of champagne was keeping me company.”

“maybe you need extra company tonight?”

you internally curse at your father for letting park sunghoon flirt with you. ever since you two met he’s been trying to win you over.

the music turns into a slow, sensual song. you scrunched your forehead, wondering why the heck would they let this type of song play at a formal event like this. you were just thankful that you’re wearing your mask and he wouldn’t see you.

“shall we dance?”

you gave sunghoon a fake smile that he was oblivious to notice before accepting his hand he offered to you.

sunghoon placed his right hand on your waist while his left hand holds your right hand. you revert your attention to the other attendants of the party. they were busy dancing with their partners. your father was busy chatting with sunghoon’s father, both of them were laughing, probably talking about your marriage with sunghoon. the thought made you want to vomit.

suddenly you were spun around and changed partners. your hands landed on someone else’s chest. his chest was bare and covered with only his black blazer.

“like what you see princess?”

hearing the owner of that voice erased all your worries and anger you felt just now.

“you made it,” you whisper.

even if he was wearing a mask, you still think jake sim was the most handsome man in this room. and to be fair, it’s because he is the man you love, and you’ll ever love.

“wouldn’t miss a chance to see you.”

jake slides his hands down to your waist, teasing you by subtly sliding it to your butt. you pull his hands up to your waist again, raising your eyebrows then remembering you were wearing a mask.

“you changed your hair.”

“do you like it?”

“i love it.”

jake changed his hair from blonde to black but still he looked so hot.

“was sunghoon bothering you?”

“nevermind him,” you pull jake closer to you, “you’re here.”

jake bit his lips and turned you around. your back pressing on his chest and you can feel jake’s lips hovering on your neck. his touch made you shiver that you rest your head on jake’s shoulder from behind you.

“like the music tonight?”

you roll your eyes when you realized jake was this naughty to suggest this type of music.

“admit it, it made everything better.”

“hmm…it’s too public though. wanted something more private.”

“my princess is so naughty.”

jake took this as a chance to kiss the side of your neck and you sighed, loud enough for jake to hear that you liked it.

your bliss was cut off when sunghoon saw you in the arms of another man.

fuck.

you quickly turn around and even though your mask was covering half of your face, jake can sense you were panicking.

“what’s wrong, princess?”

“sunghoon saw us.”

jake eyes at sunghoon looking at him with a glare. he smirks and looks down at you, “let’s get out of here.”

you smile too and let yourself be pulled by jake away from the crowd.

you didn’t bother asking how jake knew a way out since you trust him and he was willing to take you away from your worries. at that moment, you didn’t care if your father saw you running away, let alone running away with a someone who wasn’t your supposed fiancée.

you and jake used the emergency stairs and both of you ran as fast as you could. both of you were like naughty little kids running away from their parents. and it felt freeing that you did.

minutes later, you reached jake’s tesla and both of you drove away from the place.

you take off your mask and laughed, “did you see the look on his face?”

you continue laughing and jake could jake laugh at how happy you looked.

“glad to take you away.”

“i’d let you take me away anytime.”

you lean forward and took a good look at jake tonight. his exposed chest and his hair got you all worked up tonight.

so how did you and jake meet?

you met jake at the golf club where you and your parents go to every weekend. they always use the “spend time with your family” card on weekends since you like to hang out with your friends or go to night clubs.

your parents were busy talking to some co-business owners and the owners of the gold club. you were just using your phone and you felt something hit your ankles and it made you hiss.

“what the fuck.”

“sorry, miss.”

the owner of the voice had a gentle yet husky voice. when you looked up, you were met with the most beautiful face you’ve ever seen. his eyes were so gentle that you could stare at them all day and not get tired of them.

“are you alright, miss…”

“y/n!”

you turn around and see your parents walking over to you along with mr. and mrs. choi, beomgyu’s parents.

“ah, sim jaeyun, isn’t it?”

“yes, sir. you can call me jake,” jake shook hands with your father.

“y/n, this is jake, current ceo of sim tuxedos. as a matter of fact, your tuxedos are always the ones i grab.”

“really? thank you, sir.”

“jake, this is y/n. my daughter.”

you face jake again and he holds your hand and kisses it. the action made your heart flutter, considering it’s an action that you find too vintage and weird because why would you kiss someone’s hand on the first meeting?

but jake…he changed the way you thought about that.

“nice to meet you, y/n.”

you smile, thinking that you might be seeing jake often in the golf club after that. and you did.

you and jake would often find yourselves talking about your life. both of you were the only child. you learned that jake lost his parents at a young age and you didn’t miss the way his eyes became sad.

“i’m sorry,” you touch his hand, “it must have been hard for you.”

jake nods, “it was at first. but i didn’t want them to die without making their dream come true.”

“which is?”

“become successful. for me to meet a beautiful girl.”

your eyes grew wide and you shot your head up. jake laughed at your reaction.

“don’t you often hear that?”

you hesitantly shake, “n-no. i don’t think i do.”

“i guess i have to say it more often then.”

before you knew it, you fell in love with jake sim. he let you be yourself without thinking of responsibilities and made you feel loved without asking for anything in return.

but you didn’t tell your father yet. you had to find the perfect time to tell him without your father thinking it’s just a fling.

but when the news of your father wanting you to marry park sunghoon dropped, you wanted to argue but your dad was fast enough to tell you that this is good for your business.

you couldn’t help it so you immediately drove yourself to jake’s place and wanted to tell him to take you away in any part of the world.

on the way to jake’s penthouse, your nervously tapped your foot repeatedly on the ground. you were scared to tell him of the news and how he would react.

when the elevator doors opened, you breathed in before calling out his name, “jake.”

minutes later, jake came walking to you with him wearing his white shirt and joggers.

“y/n?”

when jake saw you crying, he immediately held your face.

“what’s wrong, princess?”

“my dad…he wants me to marry park sunghoon.”

you couldn��t help but release your tears and pushed yourself to jake’s chest. jake immediately hugged you and brushed your hair, hoping it would calm you down.

“shhh…shhh…”

“take me away.”

jake stopped his movements and pulled away from the hug, “what?”

“take me away, jake. please.”

“y/n…i…”

jake stopped, thinking of what to say.

“y/n, i love you but…i can’t.”

“w-what?”

“i can’t, y/n.”

“b-but…you said you love me.”

“i do but…we can’t be together together.”

you were shocked, speechless, confused, pissed?

you snort, “what?” you shake your head, “what the fuck are you saying?!”

jake tried to calm you down by holding your shoulders, “princess, calm down.”

“don’t sweet talk me right now! why can’t we be together?!”

jake was speechless, he didn’t know what to say.

“y/n…i’m sorry. i can’t…”

just like that…your hopes and dreams were crushed by the man you thought would save you from hell.

“you know what…fuck you jake.”

you pushed jake but ended up stumbling backwards and hit the vase behind you. the vase broke and shards of glass got into your leg.

“fuck!”

you looked down and saw your leg was bleeding.

“y/n!”

jake walked closer to you but he stopped. he lost balanced and fell to the ground and he was flinching.

even though you were angry, you were worried of jake’s state so you stood up and walked closer to him.

“jake?”

“y/n, no!”

you flinched when he raised his voice at you but he wasn’t facing you.

“j-jake. you’re scaring me.”

jake was covering his face, specifically his nose and mouth. when you got a better look at him, you were surprised to see his eyes turn red.

“what the…”

jake immediately stood up and went to his refrigerator where he immediately drank from his water jug with red…wait.

is that…blood?

the metallic sort of smell from the liquid spilling from jake’s mouth filled your nose as he gulps it in. the liquid was dripping from the side of his mouth as he finishes the whole jug. once he was done, you can see how his teeth suddenly became sharp.

oh my god.

“j-jake…”

when jake heard your voice, only did he notice what he has done. your reaction filled with fear was written all over your face.

“y/n—”

“no!” you scream, telling jake to stop his tracks.

“you—you’re…”

you couldn’t continue what you wanted to say, still hurt and shocked of what you’ve seen just now.

without a thought, you ran and fled.

that night you came home with your leg still bleeding, forgetting that it ever did. the only reason you could tell your mother was that you fell.

jake didn’t come to the golf club after that. he stopped texting and calling you.

you thought that it was for the best but...you love him. and you want all of him.

you immediately rushed to jake’s penthouse and without a doubt, kissed him the moment you saw him.

“y/n?”

“i don’t care who or what you are. i love you and i want all of you.”

jake didn’t give it another thought to pull you again to a kiss and both of you ended up giving yourselves to each other that night.

remembering what happened to the both of you instantly made you quiet throughout the whole ride until you got to his place. jake noticed your change of demeanor and immediately held your cheek.

“what’s on your mind, princess?”

“nothing, just…what would i do without you?”

you leaned into jake’s touch and he kisses your forehead before both of you get out of the car.

when you got out, only did you notice that you’re in an unfamiliar place. you were in a more remote place where it’s only a wooden house by a hill.

“where are we?”

jake smiles before holding your hand, “come on. i’ll show you.”

both of you ended up taking a long walk before you got to the house.

when you opened it, the interior looked cozy like it was one of those houses from “little women” but with a twist.

“it’s my parents’ house. i just had it remodeled a little.”

you took a look around. you can see now it did have a vintage vibe in it.

“do you come here often?”

“sometimes. when i want to take my mind off of things.”

“and…how many women have you brought here before?”

jake snickers, hugging you from behind, “you’re the only one i brought home here.”

you roll your eyes, “so there were others before me? what did you do? bring them home to their parents and to have tea like how men do in the olden times?”

“first, i was never serious with them. second, did you just call me old?”

“well you’re four centuries older than me.”

jake tickled you from behind and you ran away but jake was too fast that he caught you, trapped you in the wall.

“think you can run away from me?”

you answered back by pulling jake down and giving him a passionate kiss. jake kissed you back and pressed you closer to him by holding your back. his touch made you open your mouth, almost taking jake’s lips inside. you grin when you felt something poking you from down there.

jake pulls away for a second, “i have to fuck you.”

“fuck me hard then.”

jake pushed you inside a room and you hit your back on the bed.

you watched as jake undressed himself above you. the sight was mouth-watering that you immediately sat up and took jake’s dick in your mouth.

“fuck just like that!”

you watch jake throw his head back and felt proud of yourself. you bobbed your head up and down as you continue sucking jake’s cock. the squelching sound was turning you on too that you continued what you were doing.

“you taste good.”

your words and tone just made jake turned on for you more. you were surprised when he held your head and bobbed it up and down the base of his dick. you were letting out choked moans and you had to hold on jake’s hips to hold yourself.

“you’re making me cum, fuck!”

after two minutes of sucking, jake came on your mouth and you licked every bit of him. you stood up and wrapped your arms around jake’s neck as he held your waist.

“i want one too,” you say, putting your lips, “please.”

“of course.”

jake started unzipping your dress and let the garment fall down your body, until it reached the floor. you were almost bare, only leaving you with your panties.

“get on the bed for me,” jake says with his husky voice.

you immediately sat on the bed, waiting for jake to come over you. and when he did, he laid you down and he went down on you, taking off your panties.

you moan when jake started sucking your clit and the feeling made you arch your back. jake was eating you and not just your clit but you felt like jake was sucking your soul into him.

“a-AAAAH!”

“cum for me.”

jake lifted your ass cheeks to lift your lower body as he continues to eat you out. your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you feel your legs shaking and toes clenching. you were thankful that the house was secluded, or else people would have heard your screams. you held the sides of your

after jake sucked every bit of juice in you, you kept panting and you can feel sweat dripping down your neck as jake sucked every bit of your essence from your clit to your inner thighs.

jake sets down your legs and immediately help the back of your neck to pull you in an intense kiss. he pushes his tongue inside your mouth and you opened it.

“i love it when you’re eager,” jake says before kissing you again with a growl.

“you make me eager.”

jake wasted no time in putting his cock inside you and it immediately made you roll your eyes at the back of your head.

“look at you,” jake smirks while looking down at you, “such a mess for me already.”

jake rocks his hips forward and you let out another scream. his movements were harder than usual. and in most cases, it’s you taking the lead but this…it made you turn on so much. he kept thrusting in and out that you were craving more and more.

the moment you felt your hole squeezing jake’s cock, he lets out a grunt followed by a moan.

“jake…m-fuck! you’re so fucking good!”

you and jake screaming curses and each other’s names for god knows how long. your head was spinning thanks to jake’s powerful and strong thrusts but it was also sending you to heaven that you didn’t want it to end.

“jake…i’m gonna cum.”

“hold on a little longer.”

if jake was gonna be honest, he wanted to cum right there and now but he wanted to make this moment last forever that he wanted more time inside of you.

you held jake’s shoulder, calling his attention, “come here.”

jake leans down and gives you a very hard kiss. you inhaled sharply as he gave you more thrusts as he locks his lips on yours. when you gasped, jake opened his mouth and entered his tongue on yours.

“i can’t take it anymore…”

jake nods his head, “cum for me.”

jake thrusted more and you felt a lot of cum dripping down your legs. both of you were a mess and continued panting until the two of you came.

you look down at your legs and moan at the sight.

“shit.”

jake laid his body down at your chest, you can hear and feel him panting heavily. you rubbed the back of his head and kissed his temples.

you and jake got under the sheets and clinged to each other the whole night. it’s been a while since you last saw jake that you wanted to cherish this moment.

“have i told you that you look beautiful tonight?”

you blush and hide your face at jake’s chest.

“how can you manage to act so cute when you literally just railed me?”

jake caught your cheek and pulled you close to kiss your forehead then your lips. when you pulled away, you gave him a smile before lying down on his chest again.

“so…this is your room.”

“actually…it’s my parents’.”

your eyes grew wide then you pulled yourself up.

“WHAT?”

jake was surprised at your reaction that he ended up laughing.

“wait, you’re joking right?”

jake sits up, “my room is at the other end of the hall.”

you slapped jake’s chest and he yelped, “ow!”

“why didn’t you tell me before we started fucking?”

“and break that sexual tension we had?”

“we fucked in your parents’ room!”

jake couldn’t say anything and laughed instead.

“oh god they’re gonna think i’m some girl who likes to have sex anywhere.”

“i swear to you, my parents aren’t like that. they’d love you. and besides,” jake holds your face, “i didn’t think it was just fucking. not when it’s with the woman i love.”

you felt like tearing up and when you did, jake used his thumbs to wipe your tears away.

“i love you so much,” you whisper.

jake pressed his lips on yours.

“can i take you away?”

your heart started busting a move. after that incident with jake, you didn’t think about bringing it up with him again. but you’ve always wanted to escape your shitty home and spend the rest of your life with jake.

“you mean it?”

“of course, i mean it.”

jake gives you a longer but slow kiss, sealing the promise he made to you just now.

“would you…bite me then?”

jake should be worried that you suddenly asked this butt he knew the way you were looking at him right now that you have made up your mind. you were ready to be like him. you were ready to spend a lifetime with him.

wasting no time, jake moved your hair and with your neck exposed, he gave it a quick kiss before piercing his fangs onto your skin.

you flinched, not doubting that the feeling is painful but jake held your body close to his and lets you clutch to him.

after a few minutes, jake was done sucking your blood and he licked your wounded area.

“give it a few minutes.”

you literally felt that blood was sucked out of you and it made you dizzy. you were still hugging jake so he gently placed both of you down, not letting you go.

“i’m…my head…”

jake gently brushed the back of his fingers on your face, “i know, princess. just rest. tomorrow, you won’t need to worry about loosing me.”

with that last statement, you drifted yourself to sleep, dreaming what it would be like to spend an eternity with jake by your side.

#heeverseblog #enhypen #enhypen fluff #heeversereads #enhypen imagines #enhypen au #enhypen smut #enhypen angst #heeverserecs #enhypen scenarios #jake x reader #jake smut #jake au #jake sim #jaeyun au #jaeyun smut #jaeyun fluff #jake sim au #jake scenarios #sim jaeyun au

[mignonricciardo]

small acts | dr3

this was written while listening to zach bryan's new album hence the title "small acts" after track smaller acts... this is an entirely self-indulgent fic focused on comfort and cute after the news of today's crash and daniel's injury :( i hope he's recovering well and as quick (and safely) as possible check out the end for a little instagram au <3

summary: helping daniel after an injury (and making sure everyone knows that, yes, he's still alive) (1.8k words)

warnings: none really, dutch gp crash, mentions of broken bones and x-rays, sex jokes but no sex

The week had been going too well — perfect weather in Amsterdam, no issues on flights, a date lined up for after the race, an extra day to explore the city together. I should have known something was bound to interrupt the weekend with luck like Daniel’s and mine. It’s like I watch the incident in slow motion. The orange car I was still having to remind myself wasn’t him skidding into the wall and resting right at the racing line Daniel is taking. I watch, knowing he is too close to clear it, and my stomach falls as he veers into the wall, narrowly avoiding the car only a few meters away from him. The impact is harder than I anticipate, but his voice over the radio makes me hold the headphones tighter against my ear. 

He’s hurt. My heart aches as he apologizes to the team, explaining he saw the McLaren too late, but I hear how his breath is sharp through his nose. I look to his trainer, my frantic eyes must give something away, and he heads toward Daniel’s race engineer in the garage. There’s silence on the radio besides Daniel’s labored breathing, and his race engineer looks to me, following his trainer’s pointed finger. He begins again.

“Are you okay?”

The hesitation feels like it lasts forever, but when Daniel answers, my stomach drops.

“Fuck, my hand,” he says, and in the corner of my eye, I see his onboard footage as his ungloved hand shakes. “Fuck.”

I tug the headphones off my ears, pinching between my brows and attempting to calm the nerves in my stomach. It’s not long before I’m whisked away from the garage to the medical center, and race staff escorts me into the center where Daniel sits. A doctor prods at his hand as he discusses exactly what happened, and when I walk into the room, he looks to me with a soft smile, “Hey.”

My heart tugs as he sucks in a sharp breath when the doctor’s hands touch a particular part of his hand, and I head toward the chair next to where he’s seated. I sit, brushing his knee with mine as I smile back, “How are you feeling? Honestly?”

Another sharp inhale as the doctor lifts one of his fingers, “Pretty fucking bad. Better now that you’re here, though.”

Even the doctor chuckles at his shameless flirting, and I roll my eyes with a laugh. He reaches his free hand toward me, lacing our fingers and squeezing my hand, “Thank you for coming, babe.”

I nod my head, squeezing his uninjured hand back in return. It’s comfortable — our fingers interlaced and my thumb tracing the delicate bones in the back of his hand  — and we sit in this silence as the doctor continues his evaluation. It’s not long before he fashions a sling around Daniel’s neck, our hands separating so he can work, placing his injured hand carefully in it. When he directs Daniel to visit the local hospital for x-rays, the injured driver lets out a groan as he mutters an are you serious? We thank the doctor who wishes him well as he goes to inform the AlphaTauri staff and Daniel’s immediate team. I reach for his free hand, finding comfort in his warm palm against mine. 

“You had me scared, you know,” I say quietly, thumb rubbing along his hand. “It looked like a hard impact, and I could hear you breathing over the radio. I knew something was wrong.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, kissing the top of my head before standing from the exam table. “I didn’t think it was that bad until I tried to get out of the car. What if it’s broken?”

“We’ll figure it out,” I answer, bringing our entwined hands up to kiss the back of his. “We always do.”

It’s a long afternoon. They load Daniel, myself and his immediate team into the car bound for the hospital, and with another round of doctors poking and prodding and Daniel sharing everything, they take him for x-rays to confirm his suspicion. Broken, the doctor says, metacarpal four. I sit with him as they put a cast on him, hiding some of my favorite tattoos of his from my sight. He makes jokes about it as they do, searching for some humor as Blake calls the team to confirm he won’t be able to race the rest of the weekend. With his hand in a cast and a real immobilizer on his arm, we’re left alone in the room. He still has his race overalls around his waist, his team polo on and fireproofs cut up and long forgotten in the corner of the room. 

“So much for our perfect weekend,” he mutters, squeezing my hand. 

“We’ll make it work,” I whisper, standing up to give him as much of a hug as possible with his immobilizer. He leans into me, my chin resting on his curls, and he sighs contently as his good arm wraps around my waist to pull me as close as he can without aggravating his injury. One of my hands rubs his back gently, a comforting habit the two of us had picked up, “I was excited just to spend time with you, Dan. Sitting in a hotel room watching movies is just as good as whatever surprises you had planned in Amsterdam.”

“You know I love you, yeah?” he asks, head pulling away from me to meet my gaze. His eyes look tired despite the soft smile on his face, “When this is over, I’ll make it up to you.”

“All you need to do is whatever the doctors tell you so you get better as soon as possible,” I answer, leaning down to peck his lips gently. “That’s enough for me.”

“No I love you back?” he grins, pouting his lips.

I laugh, kissing his lips again, “I love you, too. We should get you back to the track to prove you’re alive. There’s been no update, so people have been asking. Even my mom texted me.”

“She loves me,” he grins, letting me help loop his good arm through his team jacket and drape the other side over his shoulder. “Must run in the family.”

“Full of yourself much?” I laugh, walking with him back toward Blake. 

We load into the car back toward the track, and while Daniel isn’t quick to admit how much pain he’s really in, it’s all over his face as he grimaces with every bump in the road. I let him squeeze my hand with his good one the entire ride, clasped hands hidden in his lap, and his team talks about potential next steps and timelines. Walking back into the paddock is tough with sympathy and condolences written on everyone’s faces and resting on the tips of their tongues. Daniel does well to navigate it, answering a few questions about eventually being alright. I walk just behind him, focusing on how his uninjured hand clenches occasionally at his side. He heads into the team hospitality with everyone to meet with Franz and Christian, and he thanks me as I offer to head back to the garage to gather his things from his driver’s room. By the time I arrive back in hospitality, I have his backpack slung on my shoulder and a large bag of stroopwafels in my hand with a note attached from the marshals who helped him out of the car. He’s talking to Max when I come in, and the two drivers interrupt their conversation as I approach. 

“Mate, I think she could replace you at this point,” Max grins, giving me a quick hug. “How are you holding up?”

“Ready to play nurse and enforcer if I need to,” I answer, and Max and Daniel both laugh as the latter wraps his good arm around my waist gently in an unusual display of public affection. “I’m most concerned he won’t actually take it easy. You know him, Max.”

“Have a little faith,” he laughs quietly, leaning into me. 

I pass him the bag of stroopwafel, and he smiles and laughs as he reads the note from the marshals. I let him continue his conversation with Max in private, stepping away to update my family and Daniel’s family who had begun texting me due to his amount of typos with just one hand to type. After he makes his rounds, he comes up to where I sit on the couch, nudging my knee with his, “I’m sorry, babe. You ready to head back?”

I nod my head, standing and grabbing his backpack, “No need to be sorry. Just glad it didn’t end any worse.”

I yawn repeatedly on the way to our hotel, bidding Blake goodnight as he exits the elevator on his floor. We stumble into our room, exhaustion from the day finally catching up to both of us, and we immediately collapse onto the king-sized bed. We lay there for a few moments, basking in the quiet and alone from the whirlwind of the day. 

“I can’t believe I’m about to do this, but I’m going to ask you to undress me and have absolutely no sexual motives,” Daniel groans, and I let out a loud roar of laughter. Tears prick at my eyes and I clutch my stomach, and he groans as he huffs that he’s serious. 

“Is this a glimpse into my future?” I joke with him, helping to carefully free his arm from his immobilizer just enough to slip his team polo off. 

“Talking about our future now,” he teases, and I stick my tongue out at him as I help him shimmy his race overalls off. He sits on the bed in his boxers and cast on his left wrist, and I can’t help but giggle at the sight. He laughs along with me, flopping back onto the bed as I change into one of his t-shirts before following his movements.

“You know, I’m too tired to even shower,” I yawn, curling into his side. 

His injured arm lays next to him as his right arm curls around me, and he hums quietly, “Shower together in the morning? I’m going to need your help anyway.”

“You can’t wait, can you?” I can’t help but laugh at the ornery look on his face knowing he’s been caught. 

He shrugs, “Well, we have to be at least a bit productive, yeah?”

“You’re unbelievable,” I groan, reaching for my phone.

He watches me scroll on it, commenting on some of my friends’ posts as I scroll past. Daniel laughs each time another text from any of our friends or family appears at the top of my screen. After the eighth text, I turn to him, huffing as he clears hair from my eyes. 

“Do you think if I just post that you’re alive they’ll leave me alone for the night?”

He kisses my forehead, “I think it’s cute they know you’re my keeper, but if it gets everyone to leave you alone, go for it, babe. Plus, I need everyone in the paddock to know I have a cast so they’ll sign it tomorrow.”

“Oh my god, you really are unbelievable.”

“You love me for it!”

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liked by danielricciardo, redbullracing and 548,908 others

yourusername getting used to switching what side we usually stand on to hold hands 🤍 dan-o is okay considering everything, and we're just grateful it isn't worse. as you can see, he never stopped smiling, and he has lots of treats that will absolutely not go to waste (sorry to his diet).

thank you to all the medical staff, lovely marshals and everyone checking in!! it's time for me to play nurse now 🫣

—

landonorris is playing nurse code for something you freaks

user1 mother is mothering guys (for real now)

danielricciardo think we can do this whole in sickness and in health thing together?

maxverstappen1 did you really just propose to her in her comments yourusername leave him alone right now he's fragile (but the answer is yes we can) danielricciardo get him sweetheart (I'll start working on the ring)

alphataurif1 glad to see our guy so well taken care of (we'll pretend we didn't see the sweets)! 💙

user2 the update we've all been waiting for 🥹

oscarpiastri looking forward to seeing you back on track mate 👊

yourbestfriend this feels like karma for uni when I had to drive you around with that bum ankle

danielricciardo why have I never heard about this? yourusername no reason yourbestfriend three too many bevvies

natalie_pinkham my favorite duo 💗 can't wait to see you both back at the track

#formula one imagine #formula 1 imagine #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo fluff

[sluttywoozi]

What Should We Become?

Title from Turbulence by Ateez

For: @sluttywonwoo my bestie and birthday queen

Rating: M (18+) | WC: 9.0k | Pairing: Yeosang x f!reader x San

You and San have been dating for years, you're well aware of his penchant for doing anything for anyone he loves. You just didn't know that extended to asking you to fuck his best friend, not that you mind.

Tags: est. relationship, boyfriend!san, bestfriend!yeosang, threesome, fluff, smut

Notes: boyfriend!san, you live together, pov lowkey all over the place bc i wanted to know what everyone was thinking soz

Warnings: so many feelings i did NOT plan for, food/alc mention, mention of past toxic relationship (yeo's), jealous san, mentions of san being possessive but specifically not in a gross way, nipple play, biting, oral (f and m rec.), fingering, squirting, they both have big dicks, protected piv, unprotected piv, spitroasting (hate that term so sorry), san cums inside, bc not discussed but they’re safe, open ending

Reader Notes: a bit more specific than usual bc this is for the bestie, ‘girlfriend’ used many times, she/her pronouns used, has breasts and a vagina, mention of marks showing on her skin, WAP

You fumble with the wrapping on the popcorn, cursing under your breath and trying to tear the plastic as Temi weaves in and out of your feet. San’s hand hovers just out of reach, ready and waiting to do it for you, but you pretend not to see it. He loves doing things for you and you love that about him, both because it means he’s considerate and also because it means you have to do less things, but sometimes you want to do them on your own. You know popcorn isn’t exactly the most impactful opportunity to make a stand, but it’s all about baby steps. 

The bag is finally turning in the microwave when his fingers catch at your shirt and he starts tugging you into his orbit. He’s big, broad, but still lean enough that you think you could lift him, probably, not that you’ve ever tried. You’re musing about how many piggyback rides he’s given you and how little you’ve given him when he asks the question. 

“Baby, how would you feel about sleeping with Yeosang?” He sounds nervous, his voice full of trepidation and the fabric of your top clenched in his hand. 

“Like a sleepover? That’s fine with me, I can take the couch if you guys want to share the bed, I know you like your snuggle time. Just know I'm taking Temi with me,” you respond mildly, unsure as to why he’s so on edge. 

You can see the pain enter his eyes when he realizes he’ll need to explain further. 

“No, I mean, like- Ugh! This is so hard!” He sucks in a deep breath before expelling it along with the words, “I want you to have sex with Yeosang!”

“Ohhhh. Yeah, alright,” you shrug, like he asked if you’d eat Italian for dinner, not have sex with another man. A man who isn’t your boyfriend. A man who happens to be your boyfriend’s best friend. A man who happens to be your friend. A man you happen to find incredibly attractive. 

“You agreed to that way too easily,” San pouts, pulling you closer with his arms wrapped around your waist. His fingers dig in possessively, as if to remind you who you really want, who you really love. Like you could ever forget. 

You met San and Yeosang at the same time and spent some time with both of them as friends before San confessed his feelings for you. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about Yeosang at all in those few weeks, about Yeosang and San, and just how their dynamic would translate to sex. 

But no matter how curious you were, and how prim and polished and perfect Yeosang is (and how much you want to wreck that perfection), San will always be the only man for you. 

How could you be with anyone else when San is the only one who knows you? When he not only gives you his pickles but orders an extra side of them, just for you. When he started wearing socks to bed because you hate other peoples’ feet touching yours. When he always makes sure you have your favorite lunch to eat with your favorite show, and always buys those star pimple patches you like, and brought home a soaking wet, shivering, brown ball of fur that you promptly wrapped up in a fresh-from-the-dryer towel and named Temi. 

San can read all of your moods, knows when you need extra attention or when you need solitude, knows when you want him all over you and when you can’t stand to be touched, knows how to calm you down and how to ramp you up, knows everything there is to know about you. 

He even knows the less cute parts, the ones you try to keep hidden away from everyone else. The jealousy, the insecurity, the fear of inadequacy, he knows it all. 

And he loves you. He loves you so much it shines out of every pore, so much it fills in every crack in your facade, so much he makes you glow with it. There’s no ‘but’, no ‘despite’, he loves every single thing about you because they’re about you. 

The best part is, you’re not even special. 

Sure, you’re special to him, but you’re not the only one he loves like this. He loves all of his friends with such intensity, knows them all better than he knows himself, would do anything for them. Even ask his girlfriend to have sex with them, apparently. 

Making the decision to ask must have been beyond difficult for him. San is made up of a myriad of lovely qualities, but one of the less lovely ones is his possessiveness. It never crosses the bridge into toxicity, never scares you, but he does get a certain look on his face when his friends get too touchy with you. Or when a guy asks to buy you a drink at the bar after he goes to the bathroom. Or when your ex texts you or your male study buddy invites you out for dinner or, or, or. 

But… you like it, if you’re being honest. You like when his eyes get heavy and warm on you and his grip gets tight and his body gets even bigger, somehow. Maybe you shouldn’t enjoy his posturing, but you just can’t help it when you consider what often follows. 

(San blowing your back out.)

(That’s what follows.)

The discussion of details comes later, when your popcorn has cooled enough to eat and San has gotten over his petty jealousy at the thought of you being touched by someone else. He’d gotten petulant about it after like he hadn’t considered that part of the equation, but he seems to have grown accustomed to it. There will be rules, of course, such as, “He can’t cum inside of you. That’s just for me.”

And, “No marks, either.”

“And he has to wear a condom.”

“And-”

“San, we don’t even know if Yeo wants to fuck me yet. Why don’t we get that squared away before we lay out all of the boundaries, okay?” 

“Of course he wants to fuck you,” San almost sounds offended at the idea that he wouldn’t, “But, yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” he concedes. 

“What brought this on, anyway? Is this… something you’re into?” You ask, not expecting a yes but also not expecting the answer you get. 

“No, definitely not. You know I’m not a good sharer. It’s just that Yeo kind of wants to get back into dating but he’s a bit… unsteady after his last experience. I want him to have a good one before he puts himself out there again, for a confidence boost. And I know I can trust him with you, and you with him.” 

It’s… well, shockingly isn’t the right word, because San is kind to a fault, sometimes, but it’s an unexpectedly altruistic reason, and you’re all the more glad you agreed. You would have been fine with it if he just wanted to watch another man fuck you because you think that’s hot, but to know that he really just wants to take care of his best friend makes you even more sure of your decision. 

It helps that Yeosang looks like a prince and acts like one, too. You’ve wondered what he’s like in bed, if he’s the same or if he’s less refined, less quiet, less polite. He’s so strong, you wonder if he’ll throw you around or hold you down, or if he’ll handle you gently and hold your hand. You wouldn’t mind either, if you’re being honest. 

The weight of San’s suspicious gaze tears you from your thoughts. You send him an innocent smile and lean in, batting your eyelashes and puckering up for a kiss. He obliges, of course, deepening it before you can even think to pull away, his tongue gliding over your bottom lip and working its way inside. You love how he kisses you, so thoroughly, so passionately, like there’s nothing in the world he’d rather be doing than you. 

By the time he pulls away, you’re breathless and brainless, all thoughts of anyone but San wiped from your mind. 

San decides to invite Yeosang over when you’re at one of your The Gals nights to pop the question. He literally feels like he’s about to propose as he paces the apartment, doing some last minute tidying and nervously smoothing his shirt every three minutes. It’s not like Yeosang’s never come over before - he’s nearly a regular fixture at this point. You and San had even considered giving him a key. 

This is different though, he’s about to ask his best friend if he wants to have sex with his girlfriend. He still can’t believe he even thought of the idea, let alone pitched it to you, but here he is, rehearsing different ways of broaching the topic as he anxiously awaits Yeosang’s arrival. 

He can’t be too direct or he’ll scare Yeosang away - he can be a bit skittish sometimes - but he also can’t dance around it too much or Yeo won’t figure out what he’s talking about. The guy is smart as hell but kind of slow on the uptake on occasion, a trait San is beyond fond of, though it makes it difficult to be subtle about things like this. 

‘Things like this,’ as if he’s ever done anything of this nature before, he thinks with a wry laugh and shakes his head. Sharing you was never even a concept in his mind until Yeosang had confided in him that he was scared to get back out there after his ex. He’d brainstormed a few ways to help but kept going back to how much you’d helped him through sex when you first got together. He’d been completely inexperienced and insanely nervous until you started guiding him, and everything flowed from there. He wished you could help Yeosang the same way, and then realized the only thing stopping you from doing just that was him. It would have been selfish not to at least ask if you’d be interested, and though he was a little surprised (and annoyed) that you agreed with no hesitation, he still believes this is the right thing to do. 

So when two timid knocks sound on the door, San’s nerves settle to a low simmer and he’s able to greet his best friend as normally as possible. 

The normalcy only lasts for so long, his anxiety ticking back up the longer he makes awkward small talk with Yeosang. He knows Yeo can sense that something is off but he also knows he'll never say anything about it, will just sit here and watch TV and talk about nothing until San is ready to tell him. It’s a wonderful quality of Yeosang’s, the fact that he can read him so well and knows not to dig, but today San wishes he would. He’s not sure he can find it in himself to ask Yeosang if he’d like to fuck you, and a good lead in might be the only way he can bring it up. 

Hours pass and San’s shoulders start to ache with tension. He still hasn’t said anything about the actual reason he invited Yeosang over today, and he’s starting to feel like he could vibrate out of his skin. He really didn’t think it would be this hard, definitely thought it would be more difficult to ask you rather than Yeosang, but here he is. It’s nearing bedtime and you’ll likely return home soon, and then what's San supposed to do? Ask Yeosang if he wants to have sex with you while you’re right here?

Wait. 

Wait, that might be a good idea. You hadn’t discussed when exactly this would happen but from your texts tonight, San already knows you’re turned on, and Yeosang is here, so…

So... he stalls until your key starts turning in the lock and Temi starts screeching in reaction, knowing exactly what that sound means. He’s sure Yeosang noticed his change in demeanor but he doesn’t bother explaining, knowing that Yeo is going to be very confused for however long it takes to go through everything.

He doesn’t want to just spring his plan on you so he leaps up and jogs over from the couch to greet you at the door, shouting, “One sec!” at the living room before pulling you into the farthest corner of the kitchen. You follow with a huff, yelling, “Hi Yeosang!” and turning to San only when Yeo responds, "Hiii." 

“Babe, hear me out,” San begs with his hands on your shoulders as he watches the confusion spread on your face. 

“You haven’t said anything to hear out yet,” you remind him, arching a brow at him in expectation. “You just dragged me in here and you didn’t even let me say hi to Yeosang.” 

“You did say hi to Yeosang, just now-,”

“That doesn’t count and you know it.” 

“Okay, maybe you’re right, but I have to tell you something!”

“Okay, so tell me! I’m not tipsy anymore and I either want to shower or fuck so-,”

“That’s good because I want to ask Yeo right now if he wants to fuck you tonight. What are your thoughts?” 

He hadn’t planned on sounding so frustrated when he told you but when the words start to spill out, he lets them. It doesn’t help that you’re really hot when you’re annoyed and he’s a bit upset that he’ll have to let Yeo have you first if everything goes well. 

“Um.”

The third voice startles him, makes his fingers clench your shoulders a bit too hard and at the breath hissed through your teeth, he lets go. He pets at the sore spots, whispering, “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” until you grab his hands and tell him, “Sannie, it’s okay. Let’s focus on Yeo.” 

He turns cautiously, unsure of what he’ll find as he shifts his attention to the statue that was his best friend. Yeosang stands perfectly still, his eyes alarmed and his mouth half open. San can’t tell if he’s scared or grossed out or offended or all three, and this suddenly feels like the worst idea he’s ever had. Not just the telling him part but the whole thing. Regret settles heavily in his stomach, mortification closing up his throat as he tries to find the right words to say. He’s about to start with the most teary apology of his life when Yeosang starts to speak. 

“Um, I do want to- I would. Like that. I would like to do that,” Yeosang says firmly, if a bit clumsily. He nods emphatically as he speaks, seriously, like this is an honor that’s been bestowed upon him, and San supposes it is. You haven’t fucked many people other than San and San has fucked nobody other than you, so to let someone into that aspect of your relationship is a sign of just how much you both trust Yeosang and each other. 

“Oh,” You and San exhale in unison, “Well, that makes things easier,” San continues. 

Shifting to lean back against the counter, San crosses his arms and looks directly into Yeosang’s eyes, “We have some rules.” You roll yours, pulling San’s arms away from his chest enough to slide between them and rest your back against him to break the rising tension. 

“I like rules,” Yeosang assures you both excitedly, looking more relaxed now that he knows there are restrictions. 

“One: you’re wearing a condom. I got a few different sizes, just in case. Two: you’re not cumming inside of her, even with the condom. Three: no marking-,”

“But you can bite!” You interject helpfully, making San nod and repeat, “Yes, biting is okay, just don’t leave any marks.” 

Yeosang smiles primly, nodding along as well. The look in his eye tells San he’s going over the rules in his head and he has to push down the wave of fondness in order to maintain his stern facade. As well as he knows Yeo would never do anything to hurt you, San still feels like he needs to protect you in a situation like this, and the rules make him feel better about entrusting you to someone else. (San also knows you’re a fully grown person and can make your own decisions, but you’re his girlfriend too and he loves you, deal with it.)

“And if at any point any of us wants to stop, all we have to do is say so,” San declares, making sure you and Yeosang understand that the situation is under your full control. He’s planning on just being a spectator, but if you’re up for it after Yeosang…

You and Yeo agree, exchanging nervous smiles and glancing toward the bedroom. It’s clear you’re both becoming antsy, but San has one last thing to say. 

“Okay, I just want us to remember that we’re all friends here. Well, babe, we’re more than that, obviously, and Yeo, you know you’re my man, but what I’m trying to say is that there’s no reason to be nervous because it’s all love here, right?”

“Right,” you parrot with a squeeze to his forearm as Yeosang smiles and twists his fingers together. He’s clearly still nervous but you seem perfectly at ease and San is reminded once again why this is a good idea. You’re just what Yeo needs to find his confidence again and San hopes that tonight is the first step to him finding his own you, too. 

Things are awkward once you all reach the bedroom. Temi is asleep on the bed so you have to take her to her favorite blanket in the living room. She stays asleep, the sweet little log she is, but you leave out a plate of food just in case she wakes up. It strikes you that you haven’t really gotten to prepare at all and though you’re used to just going at it with San, you need some time to get ready for Yeosang. You feel a bit disheveled after Gals’ Night so you continue straight into the bathroom to strip your dirty clothes and start the shower. 

Peeking your head out from behind the door, you tell the boys, “Just gimme five! Why don’t you get the condoms out, babe?” 

San does so, presenting Yeosang with a grocery bag of four boxes, sizes small to extra-large. He really did cover all of his bases (there were two possibilities that, as his best friend and also someone who’s seen him in wet swim trunks, San knew he could ignore). Yeo avoids his eyes and dips a hand into the bag, grabbing the extra-large box and clumsily pawing at the packaging. He finally rips it open, a roll of 36 condoms spilling out onto the bed, much to his obvious consternation. 

“There weren’t smaller boxes?” Yeosang asks, eyeing the multicolored packages splayed on the sheets. 

“Better safe than sorry,” San responds with a shrug, sweeping all but one condom back into the box before tossing the bag into the closet. 

Yeosang can’t help but agree, stepping back to sit carefully on the bed next to the condom, his hands folded neatly in his lap and his gaze anywhere but on San. He can hear the shower, hear the muted smack of water on tile, knows you’re naked in there. Can almost imagine the drops rolling their way down your body, slipping over the curves that he definitely has not been very well aware of since he met you. 

This feels insane, this whole situation, but Yeosang would rather die than leave right now. It’s not like he’s been lying in wait to steal you from San, but he did have a little bit of a crush on you that he never told him about. He’d known that San had fallen for you practically at first sight, and he could never put himself above his best friend like that. That said, this opportunity is one he’s planning on taking full advantage of. He’s still not sure why San wants him to have sex with you but he’s scared to ask, scared to jeopardize this arrangement and leave here without ever knowing you like this. 

Unfortunately, it’s something he needs to know before he can go any further. 

“San, why do you want to let me do this? You’re not the best at sharing,” Yeosang asks quietly, as if the lower his volume the less likely it is that San will change his mind. 

“Well,” San sighs, looking around the room to avoid his eyes, though Yeosang suspects that’s more for him than anything. “Your last relationship was shitty. She wasn’t nice to you and she was always ragging on you or telling you you weren’t good enough. You mentioned a few weeks ago you were thinking of joining some dating apps, so I wanted to figure out how to boost your confidence when it comes to stuff like this. But all I could think was that I wished you had someone like Y/N to help you through it like I did. And it occurred to me that you do, if I let you.”

The room is silent besides the low rush of the shower and Yeosang’s brain is anything but. Any other guy would just take him to a bar and play wingman, but here San is, offering to let him fuck his girlfriend if it means he’ll get some of his self-esteem back. He’s not sure it’s something he could bear to do, and he’s shocked San is willing to even try with how territorial he can get. Yeosang knows he can trust him though, and that he can trust you. So when San looks at him head on, his expression open and honest, there’s nothing else for Yeosang to do but thank him. 

“You’re a really good friend, San. The best.” 

You get a bit distracted in the shower and it takes much longer than five minutes, but you can’t say you regret it. You feel so refreshed, so dewy, and you know you smell good as fuck so now is the prime time to reenter the absurd circumstances you’ve created with your boyfriend. You’re a little nervous now, the small amount of time you’d been out of the dynamic leaving you feeling off-kilter and unsure. You know San is waiting for you out there though, Yeosang too, and that’s enough to give you the courage you need to push open the door. Steam escapes around you, framing you in what you hope is a flattering haze, and both boys’ eyes snap to you immediately. You freeze in place, your eyes wide and your fingers gripping tightly at the towel wrapped around your body as they take you in. San’s already half hard, likely a Pavlovian response to what happens whenever you’re at least semi-naked in his vicinity (you getting bent over or pushed up against the closest surface). Yeosang’s body is turned away from you so you can’t tell if he’s similarly affected but the expression on his face is that of someone who’s just seen an angel, which bolsters your confidence enough to let the towel slip down a bit further. 

You can feel San’s eyes on you as you tease Yeosang, know he’s smiling a smile far too sweet for this context, and you just can’t resist the urge to turn and look at him. 

You were right, his face is lit up with a grin that could rival the sun, but his eyes are steamy, heavy, possessive. You can tell he’s trying his best to step back and let you and Yeo get to know each other like this, can tell how hard it is for him to even share you at this level of undress, and you vow to yourself that every day this week, you’ll be swallowing his dick. He deserves it, to be taken care of and pampered and spoiled, and you know there’s no one better for the job than you. 

Stepping further into the room, you move to San first, pressing a kiss to his lips and attempting to move on. It gets out of hand quickly, his fingers digging into your hips and pulling the towel tight across your ass. He sucks your tongue into his mouth, nibbling on the tip and letting his own glide against yours before shifting one hand to your stomach and physically pushing you away. You break apart at the last possible second, your head angled forward even as your body is forced to move backward, wanting to kiss him for as long as you can. 

Yeosang waits patiently on the bed, standing when San pushes you in his direction and letting you fix the towel before taking your hands in his. 

“How are you feeling?” He asks, wanting to check in at every step and also desperately wishing he could read your mind, if only to know what you think of him. 

“Good! I’m good. A little nervous. How are you feeling?” 

“I’m nervous too,” he whispers, like he doesn’t want San to hear after you’d agreed there was no reason to be, “But excited.”

“Me too,” you smile indulgently at him, wondering why you suddenly have the conversation skills of an incel when you’re just talking to Yeosang. 

Obviously, you know why. But you wish it wasn’t so, wish you didn’t feel so stilted, wish you could summon that easy rapport you always share with him. He seems to sense this, pursing his lips in that small smile you love before offering, “Maybe if I take my shirt off?”

“Oh. Oh, um, yeah, I think that could help. Maybe,” you breathe, forcing yourself not to blink as his fingers pull the fabric higher and higher, revealing rows of pale abs two by two. You think you count eight before you hear a throat clear behind you and turn to find San shirtless as well. Cooing at his rising jealousy, you blow him a kiss and rotate back to Yeosang, only to find a smirk on his face and his hands on his belt. 

When did he get all confident? You wonder, realizing that the switch happened at the same time San made his green eyes known, and suddenly, his change in demeanor makes perfect sense. San and Yeosang get into a little rivalry every now and then, just some friendly competition, and it seems this is going to be one of those times. Does that make you the prize? You’re not sure but it definitely feels like you’re the winner here, getting to experience Yeosang while knowing that San will be waiting for you when it’s all over. You try to remember you’re doing this for Yeo, not for yourself, but it’s difficult when you’ve got two of the hottest men you’ve ever seen wanting you. 

“Go ahead then,” You challenge Yeosang, just because you’re curious what he’ll do, and he reacts exactly as you expected. He blanches, one hand moving to run through his hair and the other reaching up to cover what he can of his chest, which isn’t much. It’s cute, adorable, really, the way he dropped the cockiness as soon as he was forced to commit. 

You can tell he’s going to need some guidance from here, frozen as he is, so you gently take the hand hiding his pecs and pull him down to sit with you on the bed.  San drops into the chair in the corner of the room but stays silent, letting you and Yeosang work it out. You’re grateful for it, for him, for his quiet strength steadying the both of you. 

“Why don’t we just start with a kiss and go from there? Do you want to kiss me, Yeosang?” You whisper, shuffling closer to him while keeping your grip on your towel. 

“Yes. I do, please,” he answers immediately, scooting over a few inches with his knees pressed tightly together. 

Leaning in slowly, you brush your lips over his. You can feel his cupid’s bow, feel his breath, feel the minute trembling of his bottom lip as he waits for you to kiss him properly. You will, of course you will, but first you want to make him just a little bit crazy. You let your mouth graze his, sink your teeth ever so slightly into that bottom lip, giving the teeniest tiniest sucks every so often. Yeosang shivers against you, his body taut like a bowstring, his fingers gripping his knees so tightly his knuckles go white. He’s trying so hard to restrain himself that you decide to give him more, slipping your tongue into his mouth to glide against his and sighing into him when he tentatively nudges back. 

He tastes like coke and popcorn, the flawless combination of sweet and salty tasting even better on his tongue, making you suck at it in pulses and making Yeosang let out a quiet moan. The sound sends zaps of electricity through you, one of your hands leaving your towel to cup his face and kiss him harder. He’s addictive, his sweet little noises and his sharp jawline, and you force yourself to pull back before you can get too carried away. You can’t just kiss him all night, you’re- Well… No! You cannot just kiss him all night! 

Even if you want to. 

He tries to follow but you still him with your free hand on his chest while you virtually gasp for air, your mind racing as you try to figure out where to go from here. You’re feeling a bit scrambled, slightly out of sorts, so you seek out the person who always knows where you are even when you don’t. 

San’s already looking at you, his eyes soft even as his hands grip the armrests, and he raises a brow when you lock eyes. Instantly, he knows your predicament and helps you out of it. 

“Babe, being on the bed might be more comfy, hm?” He sounds slightly amused and you narrow your eyes at him in a playful glare as you and Yeosang get situated on the duvet. You’re glad his teasing is directed at you though, you have a feeling it wouldn’t be well received by Yeosang at this particular point in time. 

You wish you’d put underwear on under the towel - you’re not quite ready to be buck ass naked in front of your boyfriend’s best friend - but you hadn’t brought any into the bathroom and it didn’t feel right in the moment to go to the dresser, so here you are. One layer from said state, and a flimsy layer at that. However, you were born to persevere, laying down and tugging at the towel until it lays flat over you. Yeosang was busy taking off his pants, thankfully, and when you’re both finished fussing, you take each other in. 

Your eyes rove over him as he sits on his knees, his gray boxer briefs stretched tight over his thighs and his posture immaculate. You can see the outline of his cock, see it straining against the fabric, a couple spots of pre-cum darkened fabric dotted at the head. You can also see the XL condom next to him, and thank God you’re laying down because your knees just went weak at the thought of even seeing his dick. Let alone touching it. Let alone having it inside of you. You want all of those things, but there’s a nagging thought in the back of your brain that reminds you, Yeosang isn’t San.  

Yeosang isn’t San and he isn’t yours either, so you tell yourself not to get too comfortable with him tonight. You can get a little comfortable though, enough to reach for his hand and pull him closer, enough to ask him, “Do you want me to take this off?”

“God yes,” he answers nearly before you even finished talking, his words more like a sigh as he straddles your legs and drops to hover above you. Your fingers play with the edge of the towel, less so to tease him and more so to give yourself more time before he sees you naked. You’re not shy about your body but you feel shy with him for some reason, so you push it down slowly, baring your breasts to him inch by inch. 

He sucks in a sharp gasp through his teeth as you reveal yourself. His eyes go heavy-lidded and hot on you and he doesn’t look away, his gaze laser-focused and his hands clenched into fists next to your head. He stares, saying and doing nothing long enough that you start to squirm under his attention. 

“You can touch her,” San reminds him. He says it loudly enough that Yeosang turns to level a look at him, making San mime zipping his mouth shut and locking it with a key. He even tosses the key at Yeosang, who catches and offers it to you. 

“Why thank you, been looking for this thing for ages,” you beam, sliding the imaginary key under the part of the towel still covering you, much to San’s obvious displeasure. 

The little moment between the three of you breaks up the tension, allowing Yeosang to feel comfortable enough to shift his weight onto one hand and bring the other up to cover your breast. He keeps it light, squeezes just enough to feel the weight of you in his palm, but he’s already thinking about getting his mouth on you, getting his teeth on you. His thumb brushes over your nipple and you shiver, your flesh rippling under his hand in the most entrancing way. 

He didn’t expect to like teasing you but he does, likes moving to the other side just when you’re starting to settle down, likes grazing his nails over your sensitive skin and making you shiver, likes pulling and rolling and twisting your nipples until you’re moaning and arching into his touch. It isn’t long before his hands aren’t enough, and he’s barely able to ask if he can use his mouth before you’re whining, “Yes, yes, yes!” and sinking your fingers into his hair. 

You taste so good, so fresh and clean after your shower, Yeosang can’t get enough. He sucks, nibbles, licks his way from side to side, never settling on one spot for too long. His teeth don’t ever sink in enough to leave a lasting bruise; he wishes he could mark you but rules are rules, and Yeosang loves rules, so this isn’t one he’ll break. He’s content enough to cover every square inch of your chest in kisses, trailing them down your stomach and over your hip bones. 

“Can I eat you out? Please?” Yeosang nearly begs, hoping you and San will say yes but unsure as this hadn’t been covered in the pre-sex negotiations. 

You’re already nodding, but it must occur to you to ask San too as your eyes find his. He giggles at the look on your face, your lips pouted and trembling and your eyebrows screwed up as you silently plead with San. 

“Yes, okay, fine!” San exclaims, throwing his hands up as if he can no longer stand to look at your puppy dog eyes. 

But Yeosang doesn’t want to overstep any bounds, won’t risk this friendship just for some oral (even if he really wants to go down on you, like A Lot), so he says, “San, if you’re not comfortable with it, I won’t.”

“No, it’s just,” he sighs, “It’s really nice and I’m scared you’ll like it too much.”

He likes oral, but he's never liked it too much.

It’s a little nerve wracking to watch you push the rest of the towel away, fully baring yourself to him. He’s sure you’re the more nervous one here, but this still feels like an important moment in your friendship and Yeosang can’t help but lean down and kiss you, just a simple, gentle kiss in thanks. For your vulnerability, for your candor, for your careful way of handling him. He’s just thankful to you. 

He’s even more thankful when he shoulders your thighs apart and licks into you for the first time. You taste… exquisite? Divine? Like all of the heavens concentrated into one being? Now he gets why San was so worried, because he’s already addicted. You’re wet, so fucking wet, that all he needs to do is glide his tongue through your folds to smear it all over. He likes it messy, contrary to his reserved nature, so he lets himself lose a bit of technique to get as much of you in, on, and around his mouth as he can. 

“She likes when you go inside,” San offers, but Yeosang wants to find his own way, so he grunts in acknowledgement and continues to devour you as he pleases. You’d both said this is for him, he can afford to be a bit selfish. 

You don’t seem to mind, if the way you’re writhing and whining says anything. To Yeosang, it says everything, though he’ll need to hold your hips down if he wants to keep going. Eventually, he does decide to slide his tongue inside you, just because you were starting to sound like you might cry, and when he does it’s mind blowing. The taste of you is so much more rich here and there’s so much of your slick seeping out that he can just drink you right down. It’s glorious, you’re glorious, and he’s desperate to make you cum. 

He fucks you with his tongue, pushes it in and out of your entrance and shifts a thumb down from your hip to rub circles over your clit. He experiments until he finds the pressure and motion you like and from there, it’s easy. Easy to let his groans vibrate into you, to reach up and put one of your hands back in his hair, to let you guide him. Easy to slip one, then two fingers in alongside his tongue. Easy to curl them up, hook them inside, spread you open and get right at your g-spot. 

“Can you squirt?” He slurs, his heart in his throat and his voice reflecting it. He almost doesn’t sound like himself, his voice so deep it rumbles in his chest and his words flowing together. His fingers are still pistoning in and out of you so you can’t answer, but San does, thankfully. 

“Yeah, she can. If you just-,”

“Perfect.”

Yeosang doubles his efforts, sinks another finger inside and moves his tongue up to your clit, pushing at it in pulses as he wraps his lips around it and sucks. He gets a bit rougher and faster with his fingers, fucking you like he means it, and your whines get higher and higher and higher until you’re keening, bucking up against the arm laid over your hips. It won’t be long now, he knows, until you’re flooding him with your wetness and (hopefully) crying your way through an orgasm. 

They don’t always happen together, but he wants to make them happen together for you, so he makes sure to focus on your clit even as he fingerfucks you into oblivion. You like it, he thinks, love it maybe, and soon enough, your pussy is clamping down on his fingers and holding them inside, so insanely tight that he thinks he’ll die when he gets his dick inside of you. You cry out, broken and pleasure-soaked, when you cum. Your clit beats like a tiny little heart and your walls undulate around his fingers as slick gushes out of you in spurts. It’s perfect, you’re perfect, and he’s already mourning the fact that he’ll never get to do this again. 

Once his neck and chest are covered in you, he finishes helping you through your orgasm and lets up. He would push for another but he doesn’t want to be greedy, so he gently places your legs back down on the bed and shakily sits up. You’re still panting, your lashes wet and your mouth open, and fuck if you aren’t the prettiest thing Yeosang has ever seen. The haze in your eyes clears up, your gaze finds his, and it’s two seconds of silence before you’re both giggling your hearts out. There’s something funny about making one of your best friends squirt, and it’s even funnier when it’s your best friend’s girlfriend too. 

“Have fun?” San’s voice breaks up your laughter, his jealousy evident though his restraint is too. Yeosang imagines this must be incredibly difficult for him, and once again he’s struck with the desire to thank you both. Who else can say they have friends like this? Friends who let him into their bed, who share themselves with him, who take care of him. Yeosang is so lucky, so insanely lucky, to have you two. 

“I love you guys,” Yeosang sighs, and it seems San can’t hold onto his annoyance in the face of his affection because his frown becomes a grin that dimples his cheeks and brightens his eyes. You’re looking similarly fond, your smile sweet and your hands gentle when they pull him to you so you can place a kiss on his cheek. 

“Love you too, Yeo,” You and San repeat in unison, on the same page in this as in almost everything. 

Yeosang doesn’t know what will happen after tonight but he’s secure in the knowledge that this won’t do anything but bring the three of you closer. He thinks. 

He doesn’t have long to linger on the thoughts, your hands coming to rest on his stomach and your nails dragging down to catch at his boxers. He’s ridiculously hard, doesn’t need any of the preparation you’re offering, might even cum if you touch him, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t get your hands on him tonight. He nods when you ask if you can take his boxers off, tries to quiet the racing of his heart as you slowly pull them down. His dick bounces up and against his stomach, smearing precum on his abs before it bobs down heavily. He’s big, he knows, and the three fingers he’d given you should be enough, but he’s considering offering a fourth when he takes notice of the look in your eyes. 

You look like you’re not scared at all, like this is a walk in the park or a day at the beach, and it’s so fucking sexy that Yeosang just knows he can’t let you touch him too much or he’ll blow. You can touch him a little though, he decides, taking your hand when you hesitate and bringing it to rest on his cock. Your hand is smaller than his, warmer and softer too, and it feels miles better than his own. You definitely know what you’re doing, starting to stroke him and running your thumb up and down the frenulum and over the head, a combination that already has Yeosang seeing stars. He wishes he could let you keep going but he’ll cum if he doesn’t stop you, is even a bit nervous that he’ll cum the second he slides inside of you, but that’s a risk he’s dying to take. 

His hand covers yours, squeezing down hard at the base to stave off the orgasm, as he whispers, “Stop, stop, stop, I’ll cum.”

You smile proudly, wiggling your hand out from under his to grab the condom at his side and hold it out. For some reason, opening the wrapper and rolling it on feels momentous, like this is the point of no return. Which is ridiculous because you’ve already done all sorts of things friends don’t do, and because he knows he could stop anytime he wants. The problem is that he doesn’t want to stop, doesn’t ever want to stop, but as he folds your legs up and glides the covered head of his cock over your clit, he decides that’s a problem for future Yeosang. 

Present Yeosang is preoccupied, mesmerized by how his dick covers the whole of your pussy. He could stare for days, months, years, but you wriggle beneath him in impatience so he lines himself up and starts to slowly push in. Your cunt sucks him in, your walls contracting over and over until he bottoms out with a strangled moan. 

“She’s perfect, isn’t she?” He can hear San say somewhere in the background, but his head is swimming at the pressure of you around him and he can’t summon the words to respond. You are perfect, though, your cunt is perfect, and welcoming, and wet as all fuck, and he wishes he could make a home here inside of you but he knows he can’t, so he pulls back and pumps into you again. He starts slow, doesn’t go as rough as he usually likes to but you get impatient fast, wrapping your arms around his neck whispering, “Harder, harder, please,” until he decides to give you what you want. 

He pounds into you, slamming in and out and groaning as he feels your pussy get tighter and tighter around him. He thinks you might already be close, knows that as soon as you cum, he will too and this will all be over, so he breathlessly asks, “Will you ride me? I wanna see you,” pulling out and clumsily switching places with you when your eyes grow bright and you happily sigh, “Yes!”

His view as you climb on top of him is immaculate, your body all stretched out over his and your tits sitting perfectly. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes, watching the bashful grin rise on your face and catching San’s nod in his peripheral vision. He’s also got his lips pursed and his knees bouncing, and Yeosang feels a little bad that he’s taking such advantage of the situation. San gets you all the time though, practically whenever he wants, so Yeosang feels he’s allowed to be a bit selfish just this once. 

He holds his dick up as you lower yourself onto him, swallowing him again in your blinding heat and making his head spin. You resume the quick pace, slamming yourself down on him over and over, and all Yeosang can do is lay there and take it. Well, he could grab your hips and fuck up into you but he’s enjoying being fucked too much to change anything about this. He’s always been the one doing the work in sex and it’s so unbelievably wonderful to just let you take him. 

You like it too, might even love it, he thinks. You’re making the sweetest sounds, your moans and whimpers and sighs intoxicating to him. You feel so much tighter around him like this, too, and he feels like he’s even deeper than he was before, your ass smacking against his balls with every thrust. He’s getting close, he’s getting so fucking close, and he knows he can’t cum inside you but he doesn’t want to cum in the condom either, but you hadn’t discussed where he could cum if not in the condom, and suddenly Yeosang is right there on the edge with no idea what to do.

“San, I’m gonna cum. What do I-,”

“In my mouth, Yeo. Cum in my mouth,” you interject, climbing off of him and stopping his orgasm in its tracks. He grips the base of his cock and peels off the condom as San takes you by the ankles, flips you onto your stomach, and drags you to lay horizontally on the bed. 

“Want me now or want me to wait, baby?” San asks you, one hand on your back and one on his dick. 

“Now, Sannie, I want you now,” you respond, your voice shot and your eyes teary as you turn to watch him line himself up and slide home. You whine his name and the sound soothes him, settles the simmering jealousy in his stomach and replaces it with heat, which only grows as he feels you adjust to him. He must be a bit bigger than Yeosang and that calms him a little bit more, even though he knows it shouldn’t. 

Poor Yeosang still hasn’t cum so San beckons him forward, ignoring how weird it feels to be interacting with his best friend while he’s fucking his girlfriend. Yeosang shuffles closer to you on unsteady feet, his eyes dark as he watches his dick disappear in your mouth. You’re so fucking good at sucking dick he’s almost jealous it’s not him in your throat right now, but he knows he’s got the better end of the deal, getting to fuck you raw and cum inside you. Getting to fall asleep next to you every night and wake up with you every morning. Getting to go grocery shopping with you and brush his teeth next to you and take you on dates. Getting to love you. Nothing could be better than his life with you, and thinking about it has him on the verge of tears and on the edge of cumming. 

He normally lasts longer but he’s had to watch you get pleasured for an hour while having nothing to do with it, he thinks he can cut himself a little slack. It would be kind of beautiful and poetic if you could all cum together, so he slips one hand between your thighs and strums your clit in the way that makes you go fucking crazy, and fucking crazy you go. Your cunt seizes up around him, your back arching further and your thighs shaking. You’d be shouting if you didn’t have Yeosang’s dick in your mouth and though he misses your noises, he’s happy that Yeosang is having such a good time. 

It’s obvious he’s close again, his eyes screwed shut and his breathing labored, and thank fuck he is because San is cumming, fuck, he’s cumming, and you are too. Your pussy clenches around him in pulses, milking his cock and sucking his cum in deeper and deeper until he has nothing left to give. His head swims and through the haze, he can hear Yeosang swearing and groaning, hear your name leaving his lips, and San would be lying if he said it didn’t make him cum just a little bit harder. 

When your cunt has squeezed the last of his cum out of his dick, San drapes himself over your back, pressing kisses across your shoulders and snaking his arms around your stomach. He always feels so cuddly after sex and he knows the comfort is good for you too, so he stays as he is even as Yeosang pulls out and drops to his knees to press a kiss to your lips. That’s something San always does after you suck him off and he’s happy it seems to be an instinct for his best friend as well. 

San wants to let you and Yeosang have your time so he peels himself off your back and stands, lumbering over to the bathroom to get a warm, damp washcloth to clean you up. You may want a shower later and he knows you’ll want to brush your teeth, but this will do for now. 

When he re-enters the bedroom, Yeosang is laying on his back with you snuggled up against his shoulder. You’re talking quietly with each other, giggling like friends do at a sleepover, and San feels his heart grow five times bigger. He squeezes Yeosang’s free shoulder before he climbs onto the bed and settles in next to you. His hand touches Yeosang’s side when he wraps his arm around you but neither flinch away. They've just been closer to each other than they ever have and ever will be again, a little touching is nothing to them now. 

“So… Did it work?” San asks, propping himself up on an elbow and resting his cheek on your arm so he can look at Yeosang. 

“Did what work?” Yeosang responds with confusion, having not even a clue what San is talking about. 

“We did this so you could work on your confidence, remember? So you can start dating again?” 

“Oh, yeah, for sure, for sure,” Yeosang agrees absentmindedly, his eyes locked on the ceiling. 

“Good, we just want you to be happy,” you whisper drowsily. 

Yeosang doesn’t have the heart to tell either of you that he’s happier now than he’s ever been. And that he’s not sure he really needs to start dating again after all. 

"Babe, do you think you could go sleep on the couch? You know I like my snuggle time, and Temi's already there," San whispers in the dark. Yeosang jerks awake, and, affronted, scream-whispers, "I will go home right now if you make her sleep on the couch, you animal."

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding!" San jerks against you, trying to defend himself from Yeosang's swatting arm. All that does is jostle the three of you closer and somewhere, somehow, in the midst of it all, you fall into blissful, sore slumber.

AN: thank you for being born bestie ily more than life itself! i hope this is everything we dreamed of and more 💖 and thank you @petrichor-mingi for beta reading!!!

#ateez smut #san smut #yeosang smut #yeosang x reader #yeosang au #yeosang imagines #san x reader #san scenarios #san imagines #choi san ff #choi san imagines #choi san smut #choi san x y/n #choi san scenarios #choi san fic #choi san fanfic #choi san x you #yeosang fic #ateez fanfic #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #ateez au #ateez imagines #ateez san #✨emily writes✨ #yeosang x y/n #yeosang x you

[roseghoul26]

Charles Smith x gn!Reader

"Keeping your hand on his cheek, your lips brushed the shell of his ear. 'Although, I do think you looked rather beautiful.' He practically shuddered, a pleased smile on your mouth as you leaned back again. Keeping only a few inches between your faces, you watched as his eyes flicked down to your lips before returning up. 'Yeah?' You don’t think you’ve ever heard his voice so low." Synopsis: A brush with hypothermia forces you and Charles to camp out in an abandoned cabin. Having to resort to some more intimate means of survival, will you be able to keep your feelings in check for the hunter, or will the proximity force you to confess?

Tags: Fluff, Smut, Friends to Lovers, Hypothermia, Huddling for Warmth, yes this is a cuddle for warmth fic, idc if its cheesy, Oral Sex, Gender-Neutral Reader, Fem Anatomy for Reader, Face-Sitting, Love Confessions, but in a twist its not the reader who gets frozen, surprise!

Author's Note: listened to chappell roan the entire time while writing this (hence the title). i also got so distracted by stardew valley my addiction has returned also, there’s a moment where the reader touches charles’ hair. as a non-indigenous person, i’m not fully educated when it comes to hair and the importance it holds in native american culture. i did research, but i could still be wrong. if i have made any errors, please let me know, and i will change it. 

If you never had to see snow again, you’d die happy. 

Tightening the fur coat around your body, you tried to preserve what heat you had left in you. The cold air of Colter was like a leech, sucking you dry of any warmth and joy. And it wasn’t just affecting you, you noticed. Glancing around the room, everyone seemed to be in a similar situation, with as many furs and clothes on their bodies as they huddled around the laughably small fire. 

The gang had been in Colter for about a week, hiding away from the law after the disaster that was Blackwater. You don’t remember much from that day, most of it a blur in your memories, but you remember the bloodshed. Pointless, ruthless bloodshed. You hoped you’d never see something like that again. 

Shivering, you almost regretted giving your extra jacket to Abigail, who had wrapped it around Jack. You were only feet from the fire, but it might as well have been hundreds of miles away with the way it was doing nothing to warm you. With a huff, you rubbed your fingers together, simply sitting and passing the time until someone asked you to do something or you had to go back on guard duty. That was all you could do, really, the snow and remote location making it impossible for you to do your normal robbing and thieving. 

There were many times during this week that you’d debated leaving the gang after you all made it out of Colter. You’d only joined about a year and a half ago, Dutch personally inviting you to his group after hearing about your notoriety across the states. Sure, it was nice to have a group like this, but this wasn’t what you signed up for, especially the events at Blackwater. You were promised opportunity and freedom, not brutality and hiding and cold-blooded murder. You wondered, would it be easy to slip away?

Sighing, you slumped forward, and your  legs were numb from sitting on the hard floor. You were on the precipice of coming to a decision, but there were still some things preventing you from taking the leap. You’d become somewhat close with the members of the gang, your lone wolf attitude dissipating as you created bonds with the others. It was easy to get along with Arthur, the two of you becoming fast friends, frequently doing jobs together. You spent most nights chatting with the girls in camp, chatting until late in the night. You respected Hosea, and even Dutch for some time, the recent events shattering that respect for him. To some degree you’d created a connection with each member of the camp, keeping you tethered to one place. 

There was one person in particular, however, that kept pushing those thoughts of leaving out of your mind. Charles Smith, the taciturn hunter that you’d become weirdly fond of these past few months. You’re not sure what you’d call your relationship with the man. The two of you were friendly, maybe even friends. When Dutch sent you out on jobs together, it always ended well, working together quite decently, if you’d say so yourself. 

Still, you wished you were closer with him, but it wasn’t for a lack of trying. You found it hard to try and initiate conversation with him, never quite knowing what to say that wouldn’t make you seem like a fool. And when you would talk to him, it felt like you were just talking at him, but if he was annoyed by you, he never showed. He’d just politely nod along, adding a few words here and there. 

But you knew he didn’t dislike you, finding him frequently looking at you around camp, just silently observing. Whenever you’d catch him, he’d just give you a polite smile, before turning away to do something else. Every time he did it, you found yourself grow bashful, your heart skipping in your chest. His starting was certainly not helping the infatuation you had with him.

Yes, your stupid heart had fallen for him, making it hurt to even entertain the idea of leaving. It was ridiculous and irresponsible to have feelings for him, and you knew that. They’d been there since he joined, and you figured that they would’ve gone away by now, but that was months ago. You’d never met a man like him before, someone so strong and fearsome, yet honorable and kind at the exact same time, and you figured that’s why you were so drawn to him.

Arthur knew about your feelings for the man, drunkley telling him during a night out at the bar in Blackwater a few months ago. He almost said something to Charles, who was somewhere in the same bar that night, claiming that ‘this life is unpredictable’ and ‘you gotta do somethin’ before it’s too late’, but you quickly shut that down with a swift kick to the shins. But that didn’t mean he stopped asking you if you’d done anything yet, and each time you’d respond with ‘no’. 

You knew that Charles didn’t think of you that way. You’re unpredictable, reckless, fiery, everything opposite of what Charles is. Where you were chaos, he was calm. Fire, water. And you didn’t want to ruin what relationship you had with him, so you kept your mouth shut (and never got too drunk around him).

A gust of sharp cold wind and the creak of a door broke you from your thoughts, a shiver wracking your body as you turned to see who just entered the cabin. In some cruel timing from the universe, the man who had just been haunting your mind walked in, a fresh dusting of snow hitting the ground as he shook out his jacket. A chorus of greetings came from the group collected around the fire, a gentle smile coming from you before you turned back to face the fire. Charles calling out your name had you slowly turning to him again. 

“Will you go hunting with me? The deer me and Arthur caught didn’t last as long as we’d hoped.” You now noticed the bow in his hand, along with a small quiver of arrows.

“I mean, sure,” you stood up, your cold muscles aching as you stretched, “but I ain’t much of a hunter, ya know. I usually end up scarin’ away animals instead of catchin’ ‘em. The others might be more well-suited for this.”

“But I’m asking you. And I can’t exactly do it myself.” Charles held the bow and arrows out for you to grab. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes.” Not like I could ever say no to you, you thought as you took the weapon and slung it over your shoulder, and secured the quiver on your hip. “Let’s go.”

With a nod, Charles opened the door, holding it open to let you step outside into the harsh Colter weather. Wincing at the bright light bouncing off the white snow, you were temporarily blinded as you made your way to where your horses were, Charles not far behind you. A light snowfall came down around you as you walked, not terrible visibility wise, but enough to be obvious. You just hoped that it wouldn’t pick up later. 

There was probably a good foot-and-a-half of snow on the ground, making your movement sluggish and awkward. From what little you knew about tracking, though, it meant that it would be easy to pick up an animal's track, so for that you were somewhat grateful. 

It didn’t take long for you to reach your horses, and you went to mount up, only to notice that your horse just wasn’t there. Spinning around, you looked to see if maybe she got unhitched and wandered somewhere nearby, but there was nothing. Whistling, you waited a few moments, seeing if you’d hear the sound of hoofbeats and winnings, but there was nothing. She was just gone.

As Charles mounted, looking equally as confused as you were, you turned and  looked to see who was currently on guard duty, thinking maybe they had seen something. “Javier!” You called out, the poor man nearly jumping out of his skin at the sudden loud noise. “Where’s Hera?”

“Arthur took her!” He shouted back, and you couldn’t help groaning in annoyance. I’m gonna kill you, Arthur Morgan. 

“And you let him?” Javier had made his way over to you now, and you saw him open his mouth to respond, but you stopped him with a wave. “Nevermind, it’s not your fault or your responsibility. I’m just… frustrated.” You took a deep breath, and a cloud left your lips as you exhaled.  “Where’d Arthur go?” You heard the ground crunch behind you as Charles approached on Taima. 

“I dunno,” Javier shrugged. “Him, Dutch, Micah, and Bill went out a few minutes ago, he’s been borrowing everyone else’s horse since his died. Guess it was Hera’s turn.”

“Well, shit,” you sighed, crossing your arms. “You don’t reckon they’ll be back soon, right? Maybe they forgot somethin’?” You missed the way Charles let out an amused huff, your back facing him as you conversed with Javier. 

Javier lightly chuckled. “Look, if you need to go, I’ll let you use Boaz for a bit. It’s not like I’ll be needing him for a bit,” he gestured to the repeater currently in his hands. “If anything happens to him though…” he threatened, gesturing again to the weapon in his hands.

You were about to respond, but Charles beat you to it. “Or you could ride with me. If you’d like.”

You tried to keep your face neutral as you turned to respond, but you had to stop and glare at Javier who was sniggering. Apparently your facial expressions weren’t as subtle as you believed. Thank God you had your back turned, then. 

You turned again, and when you weren't so rudely interrupted by Javier’s childish antics, you responded to Charles. “Are you sure?”

He extended his non-injured hand to you as he nodded. “We gotta get moving though. Only a few hours of sunlight left.”

“Alright.” You linked your hand with his, letting him help you on to the back of his horse with ease. Javier had long since left, already halfway back to his guard post, not before giving you a knowing smile. As you wrapped your hands around his waist, you tried and failed to keep your breathing even, your heartrate picking up substantially. 

Sighing, you refrained from resting your head against his back. This was pure torture, but you knew you were going to enjoy it.

Thank you, Arthur Morgan… I’m still gonna kill you, though. 

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

He wasn’t quite sure why he offered to let you ride with him on Taima; he was just making it harder for himself to stay away from you. He scolded himself, because someone else had your heart, and he would just end up hurting his own if he kept doing things like this. 

The two of you had sped out of Colter, Charles setting a brisk pace that made the air bite at his skin. The pain was good, as it distracted him from thinking of you. You, who subconsciously shifted closer to him to shield yourself from the air. He felt you adjust behind him until his larger frame was shielding you entirely. 

He expected you to have started talking by now, making some comment about the weather or cursing Arthur out. When you didn’t he felt himself start to grow a bit panicked. Did I make you uncomfortable? Is this too much?

He kept his voice steady, and he gently called out your name. “You’re awfully quiet.”

“I figure that must come as a relief.” 

I could listen to you for hours, he thought. I don’t ever want to stop hearing your voice. “Are you alright?”

He felt you shift behind him, your hands tightening where they sat on his waist. Your touch wasn’t even improper, yet he still found his breath hitching in his throat. Charles just prayed that the howling winds around the two of you drowned it out. “I think so. It just… this place is really terrible.” When he nodded in agreement, you continued. “And I’ve got a lot on my mind. Blackwater, the gang, my future… It's a little bit overwhelming.”

“Do you…  want to talk about it?” He offered, and you sighed. 

“I… I can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout Blackwater, ‘bout everything we did wrong, what we should’ve done differently, the choices we made. But I especially can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout that girl that Dutch murdered. The way he killed her, no mercy or falter, I ain’t even seen nothin’ like that from him before. Or maybe I chose to look away before…” you trailed off.

“You’re not the one who pulled the trigger. Dutch is the only person guilty of that.”

“Maybe I didn’t pull the trigger, but I’m sure as hell ain’t innocent. I could’ve- should’ve done somethin’. There was plenty of time for me to.”

“Don’t go beating yourself up about the past. The only thing we can hope to do is learn from it and continue on towards the future.”

“But the future is just as terrifying as the past! I’m scared for the gang, for its future. We’ve become so bloodthirsty, and now all Dutch talks about is revenge.” Your voice was becoming more and more distressed. “Is that what we’ve turned into? A bunch of no-good killers who think with their guns? I ain’t- I don’t wanna be that. That ain’t what I joined up for.”

Charles didn’t know how to respond to that. He’d noticed that shift in the gang over the last few weeks, the members become quicker to jump to violence and bloodshed. He wasn’t a saint, the blood on his hands equal to yours, but he was even becoming disturbed by the amount of unnecessary killings happening. 

“I’m thinkin’ ‘bout leaving.” Your voice was barely a whisper, like you were ashamed to say it. Charles stilled, shock running through his system. “Once we get out of here. This… this isn’t what I wanna do. I don’t wanna be associated with the Van Der Linde gang if it’s gonna continue heaidn’ in the direction it’s goin’. And I don’t wanna find myself at the end of a lawman’s barrel, noose ‘round my neck.”

“Oh.” Charles found himself at an impasse; did he just keep his mouth shut, or say something that might reveal too much? If you truly wanted to leave, then he didn’t want to guilt you into staying by revealing his true feelings. He understood why you wanted to leave, those same thoughts frequenting his mind as well, but he’d found a reason to stay: you. He hadn't told Arthur that when he asked why Charles was still hanging around a few days ago. His conversation with the other man when they hunted had solidified his stay with the gang, for better or for worse.

Did you feel the same way? You fool, Charles chastised himself. They don’t want you that way.

“Does anyone else know?” 

“No,” you sighed. “You’re the only one.”

A selfish part of him was glad that he was the only one that knew, but he quickly pushed those thoughts away. “Well,” he began, “the only thing I can say is to not do something that you’ll regret… and just know that there’s a lot of people here that will really miss you if you decide to leave.” I will miss you so much that it hurts.

He felt your head connect with his back as you slumped forward, and he jolted at the contact. “Why can’t you just make the decision for me, Charles? I trust your judgment.”

Stay. Please, stay, he screamed in his head. “I can’t tell you what to do, how to live your life. Unfortunately, the decision comes to you,” was his reply. 

“You’re right. You’re always right, Charles,” you laughed half-heartedly. “I haven’t made up my mind yet. Still got a ways until I have to.”

“Whatever decision you come to, I’ll support you.” Liar. “Just… don’t leave without saying goodbye, you hear?”

“I promise. Now,” your usual chipperness returned to your voice, “where are we headin’?”

He explained that he was taking the two of you to Lake Isabella, following the Spider Gorge down. The lake had started to melt, meaning animals were more likely to start coming out as the weather warmed. As the two of you rode, you kept close to him, significantly closer than you were when you left. 

Charles pretended not to notice.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

There wasn’t much to look at on the ride down. Everything was white, splashes of black rock breaking up the monotonous landscape, and the occasional tree made itself known. There weren’t any animals, not even a rabbit. It was like you and Charles were the only living souls in the area.

You only spotted a couple of buildings, two of them a small cabin that could house one or two people. One was absolutely destroyed, time and weather causing the ceiling to collapse in, only a skeleton remaining. The other still stood, smoke coming out of the chimney, but you had no idea if the occupants were home or not. 

Taking a mental note of the building, before returning your attention back forward. Charles seemed to be content with just riding in silence, so you settled against him, your head nearly resting on his shoulder. You hadn’t meant to spill so much to Charles, and you certainly hadn’t meant to tell him that you thought about leaving. It’s just that you felt so comfortable with him that you couldn’t help the words from coming out, and you felt ten pounds lighter because of it. 

You didn’t want to drag another person into your troubles, especially over something so trivial in comparison to what the rest of the gang was going through. A part of you wanted this to be the moment in all those cheesy romances you read where the love interest confesses their feelings in order to make the main character stay. But this was real life, and this was Charles you were talking about, the man who would put everyone’s needs before his, even if it hurt. And besides, Charles had never done or said anything that gave you the impression that he had feelings for you. From what you could tell, he saw you as a friend, and nothing else.

Right?

God, you were so desperate for the man you held on to. 

He made no comment when you did actually rest your head on his shoulder. If he did ask why, you’d just say you were cold. You knew you just wanted to pretend that he was yours. 

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath. It did little to calm your erratic heart. 

Eventually, the partially frozen Lake Isabella came into view. This area wasn’t too unfamiliar to either you or Charles, having been there a few days prior to dispatch a group of O’Driscolls. Having opened your eyes a few moments prior, you were able to make out a few deer drinking from the newly exposed lake water. You gestured to them, but Charles had already seen them, bringing Taima to a halt behind a large bush.

By this time, the snow had begun to pick up, the sheets coming down obscuring your view ever so slightly. But it wasn’t enough to force you indoors. 

Dismounting as quietly as you could, you readied the bow in your hands, letting Charles lead the way as he snuck closer to them. It was almost supernatural, the way he was able to move so silently. For someone of his stature, you’d never expect him to be able to move so quietly and with such ease, yet here he was. You tried your best to move like him, taking a bit longer as you followed in his footsteps. Charles led you around the edge of the lake, the shore edge mere inches from your feet, occasionally splashing against your shoes. 

Luckily, the deer hadn’t noticed either you or Charles, still drinking without a care in the world. He had stopped by now, moving to the side to let you move ahead. The deer were in range by now, and you only needed to move a few feet closer, making you halt underneath a large tree. The branches drooped under the weight of the snow, a few globs falling off and hitting the ground around you. 

Weirdly enough, you felt at peace. Not because of the hunting, but because of the man who stood a few yards behind you. You felt safe under his gaze, like nothing could hurt you. As you drew the arrow back, you let out a confused noise as the deer suddenly scattered, spooked by something you couldn’t see. 

You turned to look back at Charles, but you realized then that you probably shouldn't've had your guard down so much. A large weight dropped on you from the tree, too heavy and too warm to be just snow. You let out a startled cry, blocking out Charles shouting out your name, panic seeping into his voice. 

Whatever fell on you landed on your back, your face pressed in the snow as you lay on your stomach. It clicked now that there was someone on you, a hand yanking your head back by your hair, warm breath assaulting your face as your attacker spoke. You couldn’t quite make out what exactly he was saying, snow and shock causing your hearing to be spotty. All you were able to make out were a few curses, the word “kill” multiple times, and some racist phrases aimed toward Charles.

Even before the initial shock had worn off, you were fighting back, squirming and moving desperately against the man’s grip. He just laughed, then you heard the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked. He rested the barrel against the back of your neck, the cold metal pressing against the exposed skin. Dread washed over you, numbing your senses far beyond what the cold could do. With the way the man gripped your head, you couldn’t move it, and you strained your eyes as you looked around, desperate to find Charles. Is he alright? Please, let him be alright. 

You saw a flash of movement out of the corner of your eye, and as soon as the weight was on you, it was gone. An alarmed yell left your attacker as he was tackled off of you, being pushed a fair distance before falling onto the frozen Lake Isabella. Rolling over, your hand fell into the cold water, and you quickly pulled it back.

Standing as quickly as you could, the world spun for a moment, your body confused with the many different orientations you were just in. Pressing your back against the tree for stability, you watched as Charles and your attacker rolled far across the ice. You saw the distinct green handkerchief around his neck, and you couldn’t help the exasperated groan that left you. No matter where you went or what you did, you couldn’t escape the O’Driscolls. 

Shouts from behind you had you spinning around, quickly drawing your revolver, the bow long since discarded on the ground. Three more O’Driscolls came running from the woods, only a few yards away from you now, their cries of alarm coming from the two bodies of their members lying in the snow, which you had just noticed. Keeping your aim steady, you took three shots, the gunshots cracking through the still air. The first one hit right in the heart, the second one finding a home between his eyes, and the third one hit the final O’Driscoll right above the shoulder, merely grazing the skin, and the only non-fatal shot. Still, it caused all three of them to hit the snow.

With the final man falling relatively close to you, you ran over to him. Pulling him up by the scruff of his shirt, you held your revolver right below his chin, the hot metal burning his skin. He could not have been more than eighteen years old, a sliver of childhood innocence still left in his eyes as he stared up at you, fear and pain rendering him mute. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You snarled, pressing the barrel harder into his skin. “Gimme one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you right here, boy?”

Your words seemed to go in one ear and out the other, a few tears leaving him as he stared at you blankly. He was shaking, and you wondered how long he’d run with the O’Driscolls for. He was obviously young, and if this was his reaction to being held at gunpoint, you gathered that he didn’t have a whole lot of outlaw experience under his belt. Against every instinct in your body telling you otherwise, you felt yourself loosen your grip on the boy, a pang of sympathy running through you. 

Sighing in exasperation, you holster your gun, a relieved noise leaving him as you did. Glancing forward, you saw two horses hitched to the trees, seemingly the rides that they came in on. “Go,” you waved. “You ain’t even grown.”

“Th-thank you!” He nearly wept, getting to his feet shakily. 

“But if I ever see ya again, especially as a damn O’Driscoll,” your hand hovered above your weapon. “I’ll not hesitate to put a bullet in your head. You hear me?”

“Y-yes.” He clutched at his shoulder. 

“Now go!” you shouted. “Get outta here! Before I change my mind.” As soon as he sped off toward the horses, you turned back toward the lake. Charles stood above your attacker, beating the life out of the man, his face pure crimson. He was using his injured hand, but he paid it no mind. Blow after blow, Charles’s strikes hit true, the thuds echoing across the water.

You really should not have found it as attractive as you did. 

You let yourself watch for a few moments longer, before you were snapping out of it. “Charles!” You called out. Immediately, he was looking up at you, the man below him no longer even on his mind. Wiping away a smear of blood on his cheek, he slowly made his way toward you, his steps slow across the ice. 

Concern etched across his features as his eyes raked over your body, looking for any injury or hurt on you. “Are you alright?” You asked, trying your best to push down the flush of your cheeks as he stalked towards you. He had an almost murderous glint in his eye, his movement predatory; you especially should not have found that attractive. 

“Did he hurt you?” He completely brushed off your question, his eyes wide with panic. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this disheveled and worried before. 

“Only my pride.” You sighed. “I’m sorry.”

Charles opened his mouth to respond, but was promptly cut off when the ground beneath him gave way, the weakened ice no longer strong enough to hold him. Immediately, he was submerged under the water, but luckily he was close enough to the shore that it wasn’t too deep. He reemerged seconds later, sputtering and coughing. 

As soon as you heard the crack of the ice, you were running toward the edge, stepping precariously on the ice. In retrospect, it wasn’t the smartest idea, especially when you started walking towards where Charles fell through, but at the time you didn’t care. All that mattered was getting him out. 

Scanning around, you quickly assessed the best way to save him. The hole that was created was way big enough so he could get his arm up, but as soon as he pressed at the ice it shattered, unable to hold anything. As you stepped closer, you felt it begin to break as well, and you quickly moved back to the shore. 

“Fuck…” your hands went to you head, your gloved fingers pulling at your hair. A large stick from the tree you assaulted jumped down from sparked an idea. Grabbing it, you started chipping away at the ice, smashing and breaking it until a path big enough for Charles to go through was created. Standing at the shore, however, you realized  that neither your arms or the stick was long enough to reach the man, who was starting to get dragged down from the weight of the water in his clothes. 

Quickly unhooking your lasso from your belt, you created a loop for him to grab on to, throwing it at him with an accuracy from years and years of practice. It landed right in front of him, and he grabbed on to it as quickly as he could, his movement sluggish. Wrapping it around your hands, you began to pull him to shore. “Hold on!” you shouted at him, and he let out a noise in response. You’d take that over nothing.

It wasn’t incredibly hard to pull him closer, the water helping carry him over. But once he got to the shore, and you discarded the rope, pulling him up onto the land proved to be almost impossible. Grabbing underneath his arms, you pulled with all the strength you had, the muscles in your back and shoulders crying out in pain, but you paid them no mind. It took an incredible amount of effort, but eventually he was fully out of the water, laying splayed out in the cold snow. 

You didn’t let yourself get a moment to recover, instantly running over to his side. Turning his head toward you, you let out a sigh of relief when you say his eyes flutter open. He was absolutely drenched, his heavy winter gear made even heavier with water, and you watched him begin to shake and his teeth begin to shatter. And, if your luck wasn’t already terrible enough, a full on snowstorm had started, causing cold blasts of snow and wind to pelt your bodies. Chalres shivered even harder, and you let out helped sit him upright. “We gotta get you indoors, and soon. You ain’t gonna-” a lump formed in your throat at the thought. “It ain’t gonna be good for you if you stay out here. I’ll need your help, though. I can’t lift you on my own. Just… just find what energy you can to get up. Please.” You couldn’t help the panic in your voice. To say you were scared would be an understatement. 

You’re not quite sure he fully comprehended what you said, but he started to get up, and you forced him to lean a bit of his body weight against you as he did so. When he was up, you slung his arm over your shoulder, nearly sagging under his weight as he nearly collapsed. You called for Taima, whistlin the same pattern you’d heard Charles use for her. 

Within seconds, the sound of neighing and hoofbeats filled your ears, his loyal steed coming to a halt right in front of the two of you. She let out a worried snort, and you reassured her with some soothing noises. “Alright, Charles. Here comes the worst part.” It took quite a bit of maneuvering and effort, but after a minute Charles sat where you did on the ride there. 

His eyes, which were onced unfocused and confused, had regained some clarity to them, and you heard him mutter out your name. You smiled as reassuringly as you could, before you were mounting up on Taima, sitting in the saddle and the reins in your hands. “Hold on, darlin’.” You were too panicked to notice the name slip out, and you took the gasp from Charles as being from the cold. 

With little urging, Taima moved forward, almost immediately breaking into a gallop. You led her back up the trail, heading toward the cabin you saw on the way down. It would take too long to return back to Colter, and with the way the storm raged around you, you doubted either of you would be able to make it. 

As you rode, you felt Charles slump against you, exhaustion taking over his body. You reached behind with one hand, grabbing his knee and shaking him awake. “I know you hate me right now, but I need you to stay awake for me… please.”

He grumbled something in reply, his speech slurred and indecipherable. 

“I’m gonna talk at you, like I always do,” you tried to joke. “And you’re gonna do what you do, which is nod along and pretend you care. Just… just stay awake. You hear me?”

“I care…” you heard him protest, and you just shook your head.

“Uh-huh.” The wind was biting into your cheeks, and your eyes were watering, but you didn’t dare slow. You filled the couple minute ride with your voice, telling stories of your childhood, or random anecdotes you’d picked up from your travels, to recounting the bar fight you’d gotten into a few weeks prior. Charles, despite being exhausted, kept alert, giving one-word responses from time to time. 

He shivered the entire time, and you couldn’t tell if that was worrying or comforting. Panic was steadily bubbling in your chest, finding it hard to keep focus on your stories. Halfway through the ride, much like you did, he rested his head on your shoulder, burrowing his face into the crook of your neck. You suppressed a surprised noise as you felt the freezing skin against your own, his nose and lips unnervingly cold. 

“Stay with me, Charles.”

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

It was cold. 

Everything was cold.

Could hair get cold? It sure felt like it. Charles had never felt such coldness in his life before, and he never wanted to experience it again.

He should’ve never gone on to the ice, his brain was screaming at him.

But he had led with his heart, shoving the man off you and following him on to the ice. As soon as he had seen you go down, the other man on top of you, it was like time had slowed down. He had seen red, the two men attempting to hold him down quickly meeting their ends at the hands of his fury. 

He prided himself on being able to keep calm in situations, his anger rarely ever taking a hold of him, and it had never happened since he joined the gang. Guess that streak was broken now. Not that he had any regrets.

Well, he had a few.

He should’ve registered the footprints in the snow leading up to the base of the tree. He should’ve noticed something was wrong, should’ve not been so distracted by you. He should’ve said something.

Maybe none of this would’ve happened then.

But he’s just a man, and man is selfish. He was glad this happened.

Without this happening, he wouldn’t have his arms wrapped around your body, his face buried into your neck breathing you in. Without this, you wouldn’t have called him darling, causing his heart to thump erratically in his chest. Without this, he wouldn’t have been able to pretend right now that you and him were more than friends, a fantasy that he had played out a million times in his dreams.

You were talking to him, but he couldn’t make the words out. A shiver wracked his body, and he burrowed deeper. God, he was so cold. And so tired.It would be so easy to just close his eyes, to let unconsciousness wash over him… 

He was jolted awake by a hearty shake of his knee, and he heard your voice break through the fog of his brain. 

You had such a lovely voice. He hated how worried it sounded, and all because of him. Or maybe he was happy you were worried about him. He couldn’t tell. Everything was unclear. The only thing he was certain about was the fuzzy feeling in his chest that grew with each glance and each soft word from you.

He was in love with you.

Stupidly in love, in fact. 

He couldn’t stop himself, the words tumbling from his lips like a freefall. But it came out as gibberish, and he felt you shake your head, unable to comprehend him.

That’s alright. He’d repeat it as many times as you needed. 

And as another shiver tore through him, he felt you rub his thigh reassuringly. Despite the thick material of your gloves, he could feel the warmth of your skin, practically burning against his frosty skin. The butterflies in his chest bubbled to life, and he couldn’t stop the small laugh he let out. 

He was infatuated.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

The short ride felt like forever, the monotonous landscape that had once been soothing now tormenting you as you searched for the cabin you saw prior. The smoke trail was impossible to spot out in the snowstorm, so you used what limited navigation skills you had to get you there. 

Eventually, the frame of the cabin broke through the sheet of snow, and you nearly cried in relief. You were starting to freeze, and you couldn’t even begin to imagine how Charles was feeling. Taima huffed as you brought her alongside the entrance, the steam from her snout dissipating instantly. Quickly dismounting, Charles nearly fell off when you moved, slowly slipping into unconsciousness. 

“Oh, no you don’t,” you snarled, roughly shaking him awake. Yes, you were threatening the hypothermic man. No, you did not care. You were almost inside, and you were not going to lose him. “Do not pass out on me, Charles Smith. Now, let’s get you off Taima.”

Charles muttered out an apology, his eyes reopening as he struggled to get off. His clothes were starting to solidify, clumps of ice forming across his jacket. You helped as best you could, catching him when his feet made contact with the ground, nearly sending you both to the snow. Again, you slung his arm over your shoulder, your other arm holding your gun as you entered the cabin, ready to clear out any homeowners. 

A blast of heat hit both of you as you creaked the door open slowly, and you heard Charles sigh with relief. A quick scan around proved that it was empty, and you gently set Chalres in front of the still burning fire. You realized now that the occupants were probably some of the O’Driscolls that just jumped you, and the cabin now stood empty for you and Charles. Relaxing slightly, you put away your gun, then added a few more logs to the fire pit, the flames lapping at the wood eagerly. 

To call the cabin small would be an understatement. It was large enough to fit both you and Charles comfortably, but you can’t imagine that the few O’Driscolls camping here temporarily had a lot of legroom . A single twin sized bed was lined up against the wall, cloth and other materials covering the windows beside it. There was a fireplace, a small stewpot, a nightstand, and a chair. Extra sleeping bags and rugs adorned the floor, a few cans of fruits and vegetables scattered across the floor. You saw the occasional empty bottle of alcohol, and you even found a pack of cigarettes. 

Charles seemed to wake some, the warmth of the fire breathing some life back into him. You saw him look around, body still shaking. He looked even worse than you thought, his normally warm-toned skin devoid of any color, and his hair was plastered to his face. As you crouched down in front of him, you went to push back a few strands, your gloves long since discarded, but you refrained. 

“A-Are you alright?” You heard him ask again through chattering teeth, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Even though he saw freezing, likely suffering from hypothermia, he was more worried about your well being.

“I’m not the one who fell into the freezing lake. What were you thinking?” You weren’t angry, your words surprisingly gentle despite the fear in your heart. 

“I-I wasn’t… I-” his body cut him off, shivers wracking his body. 

“We gotta get these clothes off of you,” you picked at the offending garment, the material barely budging. You started to work the heavy coat off his shoulders, the roaring wind outside the only noise.

Suddenly, Charles was grabbing at your wrist, stalling your movement. You were halfway done with taking it off, the water melting off of it coating your hands. “Taima…” you heard him say.

“I’ll go make sure she’s secure,” you quickly rose to your feet. “Just get undressed. We need to get you warmed up.”

Stepping outside, the gusts hitting your body caused you to let out a curse. Taima was  still where you left her, stomping impatiently in the ground, shaking out her coat as she tried to keep warm. When you clicked your tongue, she came prancing over, ready to get out of the wind. 

You led her to the attached stall, which was in pretty decent condition. It blocked out a lot of the wind, and it shared a wall with the fireplace, letting some of the warmth to the horses as well. There was some hay left scattered on the ground, and you took off her saddle, setting it on the stand. You left the horse blanket on, giving her some extra protection. 

When you were done, you moved to leave, and you felt Taima brush affectionately against your head, nuzzling her snout into your shoulder. Laughing, you pet her neck affectionately before she removed herself to continue eating at the hay. Making sure the gate was secure, you headed back into the cabin. 

Charles was still undressing when you entered, his back to you. Even his undershirt was soaked through, the material clinging to his body like a second skin. It was at that point it clicked that the man you were infatuated with was going to be bare before you soon. You found yourself turning away, uncharacteristically embarrassed, shrugging off your own jacket and laying across the back of the chair. If it was any other person, you’d’ve not reacted this way, your lifestyle not allowing for much privacy. But of course it had to be Charles getting undressed in front of you, and you found yourself growing quite warm. 

Taking the lasso from your belt, you strung it across the room, making a makeshift clothesline to hopefully dry his clothes faster. His jacket, which was a wet pile of fur, was the first to be hung up, the rope creaking precariously under the weight. Luckily, it held, and you added each new item as he took it off. 

You made sure not to look directly at Charles, and you saw in your peripheral vision as he worked off his shirt. Your throat was suddenly dry, hands shaky as you continued to hang items up. Why, out of all people, did it have to be Charles? It was like God was tormenting you, giving you what, but keeping it just out of reach. 

You must’ve made a noise, because Charles was turning toward you, concerned. You finally let yourself look at him. He was partially done unbuttoning his shirt, the collar open, but you saw that he was struggling with the small buttons, his fingers barely working. “May I?” you asked, gesturing toward his shirt. The sooner he was out of the wet garment, the better.

He paused for a second, contemplating. “Yes,” he consented, lowering his hand at his side. Stepping forward, your hands resumed his work, quickly undoing the rest of it. Do not make a big deal of this, you repeated in your mind. You were simply helping a friend not die from hypothermia, not unbuttoning the shirt of the person you were hopelessly in love with. He shrugged it off, practically peeling it from his body. You were especially careful to only look him in the eye now, not daring to look at his newly exposed chest. 

Turning your back to him to hang up the shirt, the unmistakable clang of his belt hitting the floor had you stilling. Exhaling shakily, you heard him take off the remainder of his clothes, all making themselves comfortable on the floor. You didn’t dare turn around to grab them. Instead, you headed towards the bed, pulling off the heavy duvet. Walking backwards, you held it out to him behind you. You heard him murmur out a small thanks, taking the blanket from your outstretched arms. 

You gave him a few moments. “Are you… decent?” you asked, keeping your gaze up even with your back turned. When he gave a noise of confirmation, you finally turned back around. After situating his discarded clothing, you gathered some of the canned goods strewn about before setting your boots next to Charles’ beside the fire. You sat down next to him on the various furs and bedrolls. Charles had the blanket wrapped around his body, and you tried really hard to not concentrate on the fact that he was completely bare under the duvet. 

You opened one of the cans with your knife, tossing the lid of it behind you and handing it to the man beside you. “Eat. You need to get your strength up.” You saw him open his mouth to protest, but you cut him off before he could. “There’s plenty of food for the both of us. Now, eat.” You pushed the can of what looked to be sweetcorn in his hand, and he finally took it, tipping it back into his mouth and eating slowly. 

He was still shivering, but he was slowly becoming more and more alert, and his teeth had ceased their chattering. Quickly finishing the can of food, he placed the empty can beside him, rubbing his hands together beneath the blanket. You were looking into the fire, and you could feel his eyes on you. He didn’t say anything, just observing you like he normally did. 

This time, however, it felt like his eyes were picking you apart, like he could see every secret beneath your skin. Clearing your throat, you stood up, gathering up the remainder of his clothing and hanging them up. You were scared that the longer you sat by him, the likelihood of you having to confront your secrets would increase tenfold. “You need anythin’? More food? Water? Coffee?” You asked, drying your hands on your pants. 

“I’m g-good,” he responded. 

“Have you warmed up at all?” He shrugged in response, the action barely noticeable with the heavy blanket around his shoulders. You didn’t bother to hide the concerned frown on your lips as you crouched beside him. Running the back of your hand, you winced when you were met with deathly cold skin. “Shit…” you cursed, pulling your hand away, and you failed to notice Charles chasing after your warmth.

Standing up, you began to pace the room, trying to keep the dread you felt at bay. Your mind was running wild with thoughts, all ending in worse case scenarios. Taking a deep breath, you tried your best to keep calm, just for Charles’ sake. You wouldn’t do him any good if you were freaking out. You tried to think back on the basic first aid you’d learned through the years. Most of the things you’d already done, like getting him out of wet clothing, getting him food, getting him in front of a fire. Was there anything else you could do? Or did you just have to sit and wait and pray that what you did was enough.

You knew Charles was watching you pace, doing nothing to calm your racing heart. You ran your fingers through your hair, a gasp leaving your lips when you finally remembered. Body heat, which means… oh. 

Goddamn it all. 

You hoped you didn’t look too alarmed. It’s not that you were opposed to the idea, but it would make it significantly harder to bottle up your feelings. In fact, doing this might just smash the bottle all together, causing you to spill your heart to him. “So…” you began nervously. How the hell were you supposed to ask this?

“So…?” Charles repeated, raising a brow. 

“I-I… well…” you ran your hand over your face. The wall was looking quite interesting right now. “I was wondering if you’d like… I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anythin’... if you’d like for me to share my warmth?” That sounds so weird. “It’s just, you’re not gettin’ any better… and I don’t want anythin’ to happen to you. I couldn’t bear it.” The last part you whispered, and you doubted he even heard it. 

Something flickered across Charles’ face, too quick for you to recognize. He looked conflicted, and you chewed nervously on your lips. Did I cross a line? Oh God, did I make this weird? He’s gonna hate me-

“I’d like that,” his voice cut off your minds’ rambling. 

Letting out a breath of relief, you gave him a small smile, which he returned. Okay, this is happening. Again, do not make a big deal of this. This means nothing. Your hands, which weren’t steady, began to work at your button up. Charles slowly looked away, his eyes darkening slightly. “I’m not gonna take everythin’ off,” you reassured, taking the look in his eye as concern. Taking your gun belt off and setting it on the bed, your pants and socks were off next, joining the belt, leaving you in only your undergarments. 

Slowly, you approached him, your steps uncertain across the bedrolls and furs. You tried to keep calm, but the reality of what was going to happen quite soon was causing your heart to pound against your ribs. He watched you approach, head turned back around. You couldn't imagine it was comfortable for his neck, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

Finally, you stood in front of him, partially blocking the fire, which caused your shadow to cast over Charles. Without breaking eye contact with you, he pulled the blanket back, inviting you in. Your shadow, thankfully, blocked out any newly revealed skin, but you still found a blush creeping up your neck. 

Without giving yourself a chance to back out, you sat yourself on his lap. With your legs wrapping around his hips, your ankles were barely able to interlock. His following sigh sounded pleased, and you found yourself smiling as he wrapped the blanket around the two of you, creating something akin to a cocoon. He kept his hands braced on the ground beside him, refraining from touching you.

Charles was indeed freezing, and you let out a discontent noise at the contact. “Sorry,” you more felt than heard him say, your faces mere inches apart. 

“I should be the one who’s sayin’ that…” you sighed, and you rested your hands on his shoulders, beginning the process of warming his body back to a normal temperature. “I should’ve been payin’ better attention, then we would’ve never ended up in this mess.” Not that I’m complaining too much. 

The two of you sat together for a few minutes, letting Charles simply enjoy your body heat. “I don’t think either of us were expecting an O’Driscoll to come falling out of a tree.” You heard him say.

“It certainly wasn’t on my list of things to happen today,” you laughed, your hands moving down his shoulders to his biceps. Having him under your touch like this really put into perspective his sheer size. “And neither is this. Any of this. I’m sure you weren’t plannin’ on takin’ a bath in Lake Isabella today.”

“Can’t say I was. But, you-” Charles cut himself off, his eyes widening the tiniest bit. If you weren’t so close, you probably wouldn’t have noticed. You gave him a confused look, and he just shook his head. “It’s nothing. I almost said something foolish,” he tried to dismiss, embarrassment evident on his face.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say somethin’ foolish the entire time I’ve known you.” You tugged at one of his arms, bringing it between your bodies after he shifted his weight on to the other arm. You clasp his uninjured hand between yours, blowing hot air and trying your best to return some life back to the ice cubes that were his fingers. “You know I ain’t gonna tease you for what you say, right?”

“I know,” Charles sighed, but he didn’t elaborate further. You didn’t push, not wanting to wreck this moment between the two of you. You felt him flex his fingers between yours, a relieved noise leaving him as more feeling returned to them. Eventually, you let go of his hand, but it seemed like he didn’t quite know where to put it, hovering a few inches above your waist before returning back to the ground. “You can touch me, Charles.”

You held back a content noise when you finally felt him grasp your waist, his fingers resting on the waistband of your undergarments. Occasionally, his fingers would brush your bare skin, your undershirt having rid up when you had sat down, and you felt goosebumps erupt across your skin. 

Moving to his injured hand, you eyed the now wrecked bandage, blood and water causing the material to practically dissolve. You tsked disapprovingly, and began to peel off the old wrapping, discarding them across the cabin. You were expecting to see the wound completely reopened, especially because of the punches he threw at the O’Driscoll, but were pleasantly surprised to find a pretty much healed injury. It was slightly irritated, sure, but it must’ve been healed for at least a day or two.

“And here I was scared that we’d have to chop off your hand,” you joked, flipping his arm over as you examined the now scar. “This has been healed for a day or two now. You’re probably only gonna have a light scar from this.” Realization dawned on you, and you chuckled. “Charles, you could’ve gone huntin’ on your own today.”

“I could’ve.” He didn’t even bother trying to deny it. “Still, I did want to do it with you, but I could’t just ask. I needed an excuse.”

“You never need an excuse, Charles. I’ll gladly go huntin’ with you, injured hand or not.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You felt him squeeze your hip gently, a playful grin on his face. It had your stomach doing somersaults, and you tore your eyes away to begin warming up his other hand. It was strange, seeing him so carefree like this. It was a look you’d never really seen on him, but you rather enjoyed it. “Only hunting?” he asked.

“Maybe,” you teased, drawing out the syllables. “Whatcha have in mind?”

“Not quite sure yet. But it’ll just be us.”

“Like a date?” You joked, trying not to sound too hopeful. 

“Sure. Like a date.”

A giddy smile cracked across your lips, and you gingerly kissed the back of Charles’ hand before letting it go, where it immediately joined his other by settling on your waist. Your ears were burning, a flustered blush growing across your body. Here you were, sitting on a naked Charles’ lap, only the thin material of your undergarments separating the two of you, but the thing that made you bashful was him asking you on a date. 

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you rested your head on his shoulder. You felt him chuckle, the hands on your waist moving up your back, keeping your body pressed close to him. The digits were still a bit chilled, but you didn’t mind. The blanket around the two of you was barely hanging on at this point, and you tried your best to keep it around him. Like he did on the horse, you felt him bury his face in the crook where your neck and shoulders connected. 

Although it was significantly less cold than the last time, you still shivered at the contact. You felt his lips brush against the skin, and you could barely feel the light kiss he pressed there, gone in an instant. So many thoughts and emotions were running through your mind at that moment. You mostly felt relieved, your feelings for the man no longer feeling so one-sided. Your mind was so loud, in fact, that you barely heard him mumble something against your skin. You realized that he was thanking you, and you responded with a confused noise.

“You saved my life today. Twice. I haven’t thanked you yet.”

“I wouldn’t’ve just left you, Charles. I couldn’t. I…” you trailed off, a confession ready to leave your lips. The bottle had cracked, its contents spilling out as you tried to damndest to keep it all contained. “If I remember correctly, you also saved me today. Nothin’ good would’ve happened if you weren’t there today.”

You felt him tense, an almost pained sound leaving him. “When I saw you like that… I don’t ever want to see that again.”

You moved back so that you could see him again, and you cupped the side of his face with your hand, relieved to find the skin significantly warmer than it was moments ago. “I’m alright. Thanks to you, I’m safe.” 

He relaxed slightly, but his eyes were filled with so much sadness that it had you frowning. “I don’t think I’ve ever been that scared before,” he whispered, resting his own hand atop yours. “The best thing in my life, and I almost lost it today.” Both of you seemed surprised by his words, but you didn’t let him backtrack.

“But you didn’t. You are the one who got that man off me, and showed him the error of his ways.”

He chuckled at that, but then another frown adorned his lips. “I didn’t… unsettle you, right? I… I saw your eyes widen after you called me off him. You’re not-”

“Never. I know you’d never hurt me.”

Relieved, you felt him go fully lax under your touch. His whole body had returned to a normal temperature, you noted, the heat under the blanket beginning to become sweltering. With your thumb, you stroked his cheek, feeling the raised skin of the scar across his cheek. He let go of your hand, moving it back to the ground to keep the two of you propped up as you leaned forward. The duvet fell slightly, exposing his shoulder to the air, but he didn’t seem to mind.

Keeping your hand on his cheek, your lips brushed the shell of his ear. “Although, I do think you looked rather beautiful.”

He practically shuddered, a pleased smile on your mouth as you leaned back again. Keeping only a few inches between your faces, you watched as his eyes flicked down to your lips before returning up. “Yeah?” You don’t think you’ve ever heard his voice so low.

You nodded, the fingers on his cheek moving to brush a few strands away from his face. His eyes were dark, pupils blown out but not because of the low light. “I always think you look beautiful,” you murmured. 

He hummed in response, and you felt the hand on your back creek up, resting at the nape of your neck. He didn’t pull you forward, he just held you. “Next to you, however, I imagine I look quite plain.”

“Oh, hush,” you chided while smiling. 

“I’m serious.” You felt him play with the hair at your neck, fingers running lightly through the strands. “It’s distracting, how beautiful you are. Whenever I walk into a room and you’re in there, you’re the first thing I look at, and I can never bring myself to look away. At night at camp, you look so at ease, the fire illuminates your face in a way that makes you look ethereal. I can do nothing but watch you, too stunned to speak. You plague every waking thought, and you haunt my dreams. You’ve unknowingly burrowed yourself into my heart, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You were at a loss for words, your mouth moving but no words actually came out. Choosing to ignore the way your heart celebrated, you let out an airy chuckle. “I think that’s the longest I’ve ever heard you talk.” 

He laughed. “I can keep it short, if you’d like?”

“I didn’t mean that,” you scoffed. “What could possibly condense all that?”

Charles gave you a look, like he couldn’t believe you hadn’t caught on by now. A part of you knew what he was going to say, but you wouldn't believe it. You needed to hear it from his lips. The hand playing with your hair stilled, the only sound being the crackling fire behind you. 

“I’m in love with you.” 

He said it like it was the simplest thing ever, like it hadn’t just completely flipped your world upside down. He had taken your bottled up feelings and opened it himself. Taking your responding silence as a negative thing, you felt his hand fall slightly, a worried look crossing his face. You didn’t give him much time to worry, pulling him closer with the hand still cupping his face. Your foreheads connected, and your lips were almost brushing. “You mean it?” 

“Of course.”

“Well… for how long?”

“How long have I been with the gang?”

Surprised, you laughed lightly, and he visibly looked confused. “So this entire time, you felt the same way?”

It took a second for him to process your words, a wide grin appearing when he did. “I guess so.” He paused for a moment, and you felt him take a deep breath. “You love me?” He asked, his voice small and uncertain. 

You moved your face back an inch, giving you room to nod. “I do. For the same amount of time, too. I was too scared to say anythin’, I didn’t wanna ruin what we had. And I kinda thought I annoyed you to death,” you chuckled. “But if today reminded me of anythin’, it’s that this life is too unpredictable to have regrets.”

“Arthur gave you that lecture too?”

You rolled your eyes. Of course he didn't heed your warning about not playing matchmaker with you and Charles. But still, you might have to thank him later. “Despite what he claims, he’s a nosy bastard.”

He hummed in agreement, and a silence hung over the room, anticipation heavy in the air. With the lightest touch, you felt him bring you forward with the hand on the back of your head. “I wanna hear you say it,” you heard him ask. 

“I love you, darlin’.” Both hands now cupped his cheeks, and you hovered your lips above his. “Kiss me?”

“Gladly.” You felt his hand move to cradle your head, pulling you in the final distance until your lips were colliding. There was only a hint of chill left on his skin, easily melting away against your warm mouth.  His lips were soft, softer than you imagined, and you let out a pleased sigh. It was a surprisingly quick kiss, and you sucked in a breath when you felt him pull away, his eyes blown out. 

He was also panting, and his fingers wove into your hair, like he was grounding himself. Moving forward, you tried to reconnect your lips, but he moved his head so that your lips collided with his cheek instead. A jolt of panic shot through your body, thinking you horribly misread the situation. “I want… I want this,” he reassured. “But I want to make sure you want this. That you want… me.”

You’d never met a man like Charles Smith, and you’re sure you’d never meet another like him. Never, ever had you heard of or met a man explicitly asking for consent like this, and it got you more excited than you thought it would. “I’ve wanted this for a while now,” you admitted, resting your touch on the junction where his shoulders and neck met. “I’ve dreamed of a moment like this more times than I can count. I want you, Charles. I need-”

In a complete switch up, he crashed his lips against yours, muffling your words. If the first kiss had been gentle and hesitant, this one was hungry and confident, lips eagerly moving against yours. He was practically devouring you, like he couldn’t get enough of you. With every small noise that left you, he seemed to grow more bold, and you felt the fingers in your hair tug slightly. It didn’t hurt, but it caused your lips to part. Within seconds his tongue swept into your mouth, eager to explore you. 

The blanket had long since fallen off, bunched up on the ground surrounding the two of you. Pushing him lightly on his shoulders, you eased him on his back. Your hands planted on his chest when he made contact with the furs, your lips not separating for a moment. He was a pleasant temperature under your fingers, his skin surprisingly soft, just like his lips. You were straddling his waist now, your hands barely keeping you from laying your entire weight on the man. 

He had let go of your head, his hands moving to your waist to keep you secure. His grip was strong, but not enough to leave a mark. A part of you wanted him to, but you didn’t say anything. If he wanted you like you wanted him, then there would be a next time.

Rocking your hips, you felt a growing hardness barely separated by your thin undergarments. You felt him groan when you did so, and he tugged at your bottom lip with his teeth. When he moved his head away to suck in some air, your hands snaked back up his neck, nearly covering his ears. You’d thought your attempts at warming him up were fruitful, but when you felt how cold his ears were, you made a concerned noise, your lust temporarily forgotten. “Your ears are freezing…”

He looked like he couldn’t care less, but then a mischievous smile crossed his face. “You gonna warm them up, then?”

“What do you think I’m tryin’ to do?” You giggled, and you made sure that your hands fully covered them. You had easy access to his lips, and you gave him a quick kiss. 

“Not with your hands, my love.”

You smiled at the endearment, but his statement confused you. Cocking your head to the side, you moved your hands off his face, settling them back on his chest. “What-?”

You didn’t get to finish your question, the hands on your hips effortlessly pulling your up toward his face. Your knees now straddled the sides of his head, your thighs practically where your hands were, covering his ears. You looked down at him with wide eyes, a flush creeping up your neck at the implications. Surely he doesn't want that, right?

Charles let out a satisfied noise, and with his hands now on your thighs he eased you on to him. You let him, but you kept a few inches between his mouth and your body. He genuinely seemed upset by that, and you felt him press a quick kiss to the inside of your thigh, causing a shiver to run through your body.

“Please, let me taste you,” he pressed another kiss to the inside of your legs, this one closer to your aching center. If he moved any closer, he was bound to feel your wetness through the fabric. “I want you to fall apart on my face.”

You exhaled shakily. “You want to?” You asked, almost in disbelief. This man was unreal.

He nodded, the action causing his chin to brush against your center. “Let me make you feel good, my love.” When he pulled you down again, you didn’t keep any distance between the two of you. You felt him press a kiss to your clothed center, a smug grin on his face when he felt your arousal. He didn’t say anything, just pulling you down closer to his face until your legs were fully wrapped around his head, no space between the two of you. 

You felt his tongue flick out, simply tasting you through the damp fabric. He did it again, and again, and his hands tightened on your thighs. He was indirect with his tongue, but each swipe had you letting out small moans. A mix of his saliva and your arousal was causing the fabric to become even more wet; they were most certainly going to be wrecked. 

The small kitten-licks were nice, but you needed more. Charles knew this too, and you felt him work his fingers under the material of your undergarments, pulling them down your ass and thighs. It took some awkward maneuvering, but eventually the garment was off, being tossed somewhere to the side by you, leaving you in only your undershirt.

He wasted no time, pulling you back down onto his face with a growl. Parting you with a pass of his tongue, he let out a pleased noise, the vibrations shooting straight to your core. Charles was insatiable now, lapping and drinking you like you were the best goddamn meal he’s ever had. His eyes were hooded, drunk on you. When his broad strokes turned into concentrated flicks on your clit, you moaned loudly, your thighs turning vice-like around his head. 

It spurred him on, working your clit with markman’s accuracy, bringing you closer and closer to your climax in record time. You heard him groan something under you, and you let out a breathy sigh when you realized he was groaning your name over and over again.  

This entire time, you had kept your hands to yourself, but you were growing more and more desperate to touch him. Reaching down, your hands tangled in his hair, and then almost immediately releasing it like it burned you. For a second, you panicked, thinking yet again you crossed a line, which seemed to be a repeating event this evening. You knew his hair was an important part of his culture, and you would never forgive yourself if you did something to upset him.

Without even slowing down a beat, you felt him grab your hand, leading your back towards his head. He closed his eyes when he felt you weave your fingers through the locks, his hips bucking when you tugged slightly. 

You were getting close now, and you felt yourself moving against his face in time with his tongue. “Charles,” you whined, and he hummed in response. “I’m- I’m gettin’ close, darlin’,”

As you neared your release, you heard the sound of skin-on-skin from behind you. Turning around, you saw Charles stroking himself, getting off to eating you out. “Oh my God… Charles…” you breathed out, barely able to tear your eyes away from the beautiful sight behind you.

His eyes were hazy with lust as he peered up at you from between your legs, and you could feel yourself begin to tip over the edge. Sighing out his name, you felt him grin. Before you could even process it, he sucked on your clit, pushing you over that edge as you came hard on his face. You were crying out his name, but your voice sounded distant to your ears, temporarily out of your body as you orgasmed. Charles kept his tongue moving as you came, drawing out every bit of pleasure from your body.

It took you a few moments to recover, and the first thing you were able to hear was the obscene noise leaving Charles’ mouth as he drank in your release. Secondly, you realized you had a death-grip on Charles’ hair, and you quickly let go, and you tried to apologize, but your words were jumbled. He continued to lap at you, but it quickly became too much, your body beginning to feel overstimulated. You rolled off of him, being mindful of the fireplace even in your post-orgasmic haze.

Glancing over at Charles, you found him already watching you, just like he would do in camp. With a soft smile, you scooted closer until you were pressed into his side. He gave you his arm to la on, and you felt him kiss the top of your head. It was silent between the two of you, simply taking the moment to catch your breaths and recover. 

You couldn’t help looking down, though, having to stifle a gasp when you saw how big he actually was, having only gotten a glimpse of him early. He was going to feel good, but you knew you would be sore for a few days after. Not that you cared. 

Looking back up at him, you let your fingers trail up his chest, resting right above his heart. It was beating erratically, just like yours, and you heard him let out a noise when your fingers “accidently” brushed over his nipple. You heard him whine out your name, and you slowly sat up. You were able to see him clearer now, and he looked like a mess. His face was covered in your slick, glistening in the firelight, and his hair was all tousled from your fingers. But the best part was the pure bliss on his features.

It was almost comical, the way his eyes snapped open when you pulled off your shirt, exposing your chest to him. “You’ve got somethin’ on your face,” you tried to joke, but your voice was quite hoarse. You tossed your shirt at him, giving him something to wipe his mouth with. He merely set it to the side, unbothered with the mess. Propping himself up with an arm, he offered you his free hand, pulling you forward when you took it in yours.

You nearly fell right on top of him, your muscles pure jelly. Laughing, you were just able to get upright before he was kissing you. It was weird, tasting yourself on him, but you found you didn’t mind. You didn’t keep your lips on his for too long, moving down his jaw, then down his neck. You weren’t straddling his hips, so the positioning was a tad bit uncomfortable, but you didn’t care. 

Moving down further, you trailed kissed across his collarbones, then down his sternum, his breathing growing uneven as you went lower and lower. A hand now rested on the back of your head as you continued downward, reaching a patch of hair that started at his belly button. It surprised you, the rest of his body being relatively hairless, but you weren't complaining. In fact, you were imagining seeing it peek out from under his shirt as he stretched, his clothing riding up with his arms. Even though it was relatively innocent in the light of everything else the two of you were doing, it had you pressing your thighs together, trying to relieve the returning ache between them.

Following the happy trail, you ran your fingers through the hair as you adjusted closer to his member. His was achingly hard at this point, and his breathing stilled when you ghost your lips over the tip. Leaning over him, you flicked your tongue out, licking up the bead of precum. The hand and your head tightened into a ball, and you could tell he was fighting every urge to buck himself down your throat. Next time, you thought. 

Moving down further so that you sat between his legs, you spit into your hand before you grasped him. He was velvety soft as you slowly began to stroke him, a mix of your name and a moan leaving his lips as you did so. With heavy eyes and part lips, he watched you pleasure him. “You feel so good in my hand,” you murmured, “butI think you’ll feel even better in me, no?”

His response was slightly incoherent, but you could tell he was agreeing with you. “In a second, darlin’. I wanna taste you, too.”

“You don’t need to do that.” Charles found his voice again, although it sounded very strained.

“But I want to. Don’t make me beg for it.” You weren’t really intended to suggest anything, but the look on Charles’ face at your comment had you grinning. “Unless you want me to?”

“I-” he was stunned, but you could tell he was imagining it, and liking it. 

“Please, darlin’, let me suck your cock,” you fluttered your lashes at him. “I bet you taste so good… just let me taste you, please. I need it so bad, darlin’. I need your cock-”

“Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me.” Charles cursed, which was more arousing than you thought it would be. “Yeah, go ahead, my love.”

Pressing one last kiss to the tip, you flattened your tongue and ran it up his length, and you heard him moan. You did it a few times, receiving a similar reaction each time. Eventually, you slowly took the tip of him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around while doing so. Taking more and more of him into your mouth, you were only able to take him halfway before he was pressing against the back of your throat, and you relaxed as best you could, not wanting to trigger your gag reflex.

Taking the rest of him in your hand, you began to bob your head up and down. Hollowing your cheeks until you reached the tip of him, you then ran your tongue across the slit, before moving back down his length, keeping your tongue flat. You repeated this action for a while, falling into an easy rhythm. You felt him buck up a few times, but other than that he kept his hips relatively still, letting you have your way with him. His hand didn’t push you further down him, he just simply held you, moving back the hairs that tried to fall in your face. 

You heard him moan out your name, and you groaned. “You feel so good, my love,” he praised. His words turned into a surprised moan, whe, with your free hand, started moving slowly up his thigh, moving inward until you brushed against his balls. He nearly jumped with the contact, causing his cock to go further down your throat than you'd like, causing you to rear back coughing. 

Immediately, he was apologizing. His hand was now on your cheek, wiping away the spit around your mouth as you recovered. “Are you alright?” He asked, and you nodded, not trusting your voice at that second. You could tell that he still felt bad, and you pressed a kiss to the inside of his wrist. 

“I’m alright,” you managed to get out, and you cleared your throat some more. “Just caught me off guard, that’s all.”

“So did you, touching me like that” he teased, his earlier concerns dissipating when he saw that you truly were okay. “I wasn’t gonna last long even before you did that.” Pulling you up to him, he kissed you, and you finally straddled his waist, his cock resting between your bodies. 

You weren’t given much time to savor his lips before your world was quite literally turning as he flipped you on to your back. The furs nestled nicely against your skin, and you locked your legs around Charles’ waist, grinding yourself against his member. His head fell against your chest, and you felt him brush feather-light kisses across your skin, much like you did. But a new eagerness had overtaken you, and you grinded again against him, and you felt him chuckle. “Patience, my love.”

“I’ve waited long enough, Charles. I need you in me.”

“You think you’re ready for me?” If those words came out of any other man, you would’ve laughed at the arrogance those words held. But you knew it came out of a place of genuine concern for your wellbeing, scared of hurting you. He was large, and you knew that it was probably going to hurt when he entered you, but your lust fueled brain did not care. You need him in you now, consequences be damned.

“Please,” you whispered, and he adjusted so that his face was level with yours. 

“Alright, but if at any point-”

Kissing him quickly, you smiled at him, brushing back a long strand of hair that fell in his face. “I will. I trust you. Now,” you kissed him again, “fuck me.”

He didn’t respond, pressing a kiss against the tip of your nose before you felt him press into you. He kept his eyes on your face, gauging your reaction as he slowly entered you. The initial breach was always the worst part, and you couldn’t help the slight grimace that crossed your features as he breached your entrance. He halted, but you urged him further by pressing your heels into his back. 

The stretch was unlike anything else you’d ever felt, satiating a need you didn’t know you had. Tangling your hands in his hair, you pulled your face against yours, resting your foreheads together. “God, you feel so good,” you panted as he pressed himself deeper into you. You were certain that he was going to ruin you for any other man. 

Hearing him chuckle made you realize you said that last part aloud. “After this, you’re stuck with me, my love.”

Because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut, and you were curious to see how deep his possessive side went, you pushed further. “Am I now?” Yes. 

For a second, it seemed like Charles couldn’t tell that you were teasing, but when he saw the playful glint in your eye he played along. “Do you think anyone else could make you feel like this?”

He was nearly fully sheathed in you, and you fought the urge to just pull him the rest of the way into you “I dunno. If I remember right, I asked you to fuck me. It sure don’t feel like you’re doin’ that.”

Finally, he was fully in you, your hips flushed together. You both let out content moans, and Charles gave you a moment to adjust. “You want me to fuck you?” He confirmed, and the words sounded even filthier coming from his mouth. 

“If you don’t, I’ll find someone who will.” 

Letting out something akin to a growl, he pulled out of you quickly, leaving only the tip in before he was slamming back into you, hands gripping your hips tightly. He set a brutal pace, and your head rolled back, your moans and cries filling the air. With the way your head was, it caused your back to arch, meaning your breasts were right in his face. With zero hesitation, he took one into his mouth, sucking and toying with the nipple in his mouth. Releasing it, he switched to the other one, making sure to give both apt attention. 

Tugging at his hair, you brought his attention upwards. Smashing your lips against his, your kiss was open-mouth and messy, more tongue and teeth than anything. His hips were snapping against yours, incessant as he pounded into you. 

“Yes! Charles,” you wailed, tearing your lips away from his to do so. He kept his lips busy, nipping and kissing the skin at your jaw and neck. A particularly hard bite had you gasping, and you felt him smirk against your skin. Your senses were completely overwhelmed in the best way; all that you could register was him, the way he felt, the way he tasted, the way he looked. 

He leaned over you now, broad arms caging your head in. His dark hair fell in waves around him, blocking out any other visual in the room. All you could do was look at him, and he was a sight for sore eyes. Color had long since returned to his cheeks, the skin there darkening with exertion. His eyes were locked on to you, dancing around your face and chest like he couldn’t quite figure out what he wanted to look at. His plush lips were parted, soft gasps of air leaving him with each thrust.

Another snap of his hips had you grasping at his back and shoulders, pleasuring washing over you as another orgasm began to build up. Your nails dug into his skin, no doubt leaving marks, but it didn’t seem to deter him. In fact, he let out a low moan, and it had your cunt clenching around his cock. 

Babbling his name, your nails ran down his back, leaving in its wake angry red lines. “You feel so good… like you were made for me.”

“My love…” he sighed, and one of the hands at the side of your head cupped your face,  bringing you right to his lips. His length was reaching places in you that you didn’t know existed, filling you deep and hard, just like you wanted. You were going to become addicted to him. 

“I’m so close, Charles…” Releasing one of his shoulders, you snaked your hand between your bodies, moving to start touching yourself. You weren’t expecting him to quickly grasp your wrist, bringing it out of the way and replacing your hand with his much larger one. He began to rub at your clit, slow circular movements that juxtaposed the fast in-and-out of his cock. His ministrations had you seeing stars, and you felt yourself reaching completion again that night. 

“Charles, I-”

“I know. Let me feel you fall apart.” He pressed a quick kiss to your lips.

His slow movements turned rapid, groaning when he felt you clench around him. With a cry of his name, you came, pleasure rolling over you in waves. This one was stronger than the first, feeling like every nerve in your body had been set aflame. Your eyes rolled back, the world temporarily turning dark as your eyelids shut. He kept his eyes on you the entire time, a reverent look in his gaze. With the way your walls were fluttering around him, and the quickened pace of his hips, you knew that he wasn’t going to last much longer either.

His arms went back around your head, continuing to move as he chased his own release. You heard him gasp out, quickly pulling out of you, and you let out a discontent noise as he no longer filled you. He stroked himself a few times, hand moving fervently up and down his length. If you weren’t so fucked out of your mind, you would’ve had taken him in your hand yourself, wanting to feel him as well. Moaning your name, you watched as he came, his release spilling over your stomach. His hips canted forward a few times as he worked through the aftershocks of his orgasm.

You loosened your legs that were wrapped around his waist, and silence hung over the two of you as you both processed what just happened. A small laugh left you, breaking the trance, and you saw him smile back at you, mirroring his laughter with his own. You watched him grab the blanket that was still bundled up on the floor, and he tore off a section of it, the sound of fabric ripping startling you slightly. 

Wiping his release from your skin, he tossed the soiled cloth to some corner of the room. It’s not like this was your place, anyways. Opening your arms, you invited him to lay with you, and he gladly accepted. He was careful to keep his full weight off of you, but he still lay partially on top of you, his head resting on your chest. It was comforting, and you felt yourself begin to grow a bit sleepy. “Are you warm yet?” You teased, running your fingers soothingly through his hair, and you felt his chest rumble with laughter.

“I think so,” he responded, bringing the blanket around your bodies. The fire was starting to die down, but neither of you moved to add fuel to it. He murmured something, and you gave an inquisitive sound. “I love you,” he repeated, his brown eyes filled with emotion as he stared up at you.

“I love you, too.”

He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but he quickly shut it. “What is it?” You asked, and he sighed, his warm breath tickling you.

“Does that mean you’ll stay?”

In all honesty, you had completely forgotten about your earlier conversation. The vulnerability in his voice had your eyes watering, and it didn’t take much thinking to reach your answer. Sure, you were scared for the future of the gang, and you were scared that with each passing day you’d find yourself closer and closer to finding your end at a rope or a barrel, but none of those fears mattered, not anymore. Not when you finally had all that you wanted in your arms. And who knows, maybe you’d end up leaving in time, but you knew you wouldn’t be leaving alone.

“Yeah, I’ll stay. Besides, you still owe me a date.”

His responding smile solidified that you had made the right decision. Whatever the future held, you knew it would be easier with Charles by your side.

#charles smith #charles smith rdr2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #charles smith x reader

[redahlia-writes]

suck the rot right out of my bloodstream. | javier peña

Abstract: He’s Javi. He’s long nights and laughter and dancing too close, he’s a reassuring hand on your shoulder during work and an extra pair of eyes while out on a job, he’s ruffled hair first thing in the morning when you get to the office and a stolen kiss that wasn’t supposed to happen but then happened again and again.

He’s Javi - he couldn’t hurt you if he tried.

Words: 5K

Content: f!reader; aftermath of SA (the scene isn't explicit, but constantly referred to), nightmares, (temporary) aversion to touch, general neglect of oneself, not eating, wounds (bruises, a black eye), javi washes reader’s hair, non-sexual nakedness, hurt/comfort, they have a Thing but it’s not exactly a relationship, there’s some fluff sprinkled in, soft javi, an overuse of “cariño”

A/N: this fic is ridiculously personal to me and putting it out in the world is terrifying. spanish nor english are my first languages and this is unedited so please be kind on that. if sexual assault is a topic that may trigger you in any way, please do not read this - i wrote it mainly for me.

the title is a lyrics from the song we’ll never have sex by leith ross

once again, thank you @lcvenderblues​ for bearing with me

also on AO3 - masterlist

feedback is always greatly appreciated. you can send it here, too

Each night ends with a scream.

Every time you close your eyes, sleep creeping up on you unwelcomed, the images replay themselves in your head over and over again. The dreams - the nightmares - are always the same. The same ceiling from inside La Catedral, the same hard table pushing against your back, the same rough hands grabbing and hitting and moving you around, the same burning, painful feeling splitting you -

You sit up with a cry, a ringing in your ears as the blood rushes in your body, covers clinging to your damp skin - and, in the distance, your name being called, a door slamming, heavy, quick steps along the corridor, the silhouette of a man standing in the doorway. You feel your whole body seize, freeze, unable to do anything, not even breathe, and then -

“What happened?” familiarity settles in your bones, vision clearing as the faint light from outside renders visible the face in the shadows. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“Peña,” his name is an exhale - maybe relief, maybe even in response to the ache in your lungs after holding your breath for so long. It’s a different type of pain, one that clears your head rather than clouding it furthermore. “What are you doing here?”

Your mouth feels parched - you can’t remember the last time you drank.

“What -” he’s stepping inside the room blindly, the only light being on your nightstand, untouched. “You haven’t been answering my calls, you didn’t show up to work,” he reaches the side of the bed and, at his closeness, you find yourself curling up, occupying as little space as possible. “It’s been almost a week.”

“I gave my report and took some sick days, so what?” you’re faintly aware of your voice cracking, words quivering as they leave your mouth. Javier stands so close to the edge of the bed you can feel the heat radiating off his body, hugging your legs closer as if to shield from it, no matter how inviting and alluring it may feel.

“You don’t take sick days,” he points out with a huff, and you can hear the frown forming on his face, that pout bending his lips as always when something leaves him perplexed. “You came to work two and a half hours after getting shot, so what -” he leans down a little towards the nightstand, arm outstretched in the direction of the lamp switch.

Your hand shoots out of the covers, grabbing his wrist harshly - the feeling of his skin under yours stings your palm, your breath hiccuping at the contact, quick bursts of air being pushed out of your lungs as panic mounts within you all over again.

“Don’t,” a whisper, a trembling plea, fingers wrapped so tightly around his wrist it’s most likely hurting him - but it’s the panic in your voice that makes his pulse jump under your touch. Just two minutes earlier he’s heard you scream, and this -

He pushes forward, your fingers digging into his arm as he reaches for the switch and turns it on. You groan at the light hitting your already sensitive eyes, letting go of him to shield yourself - so you don’t see his expression falling, only hear the sharp intake of breath as he looks at you at last.

“Hostia puta,” he curses under his breath, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “What happened?”

You feel him looking at you, know what he’s seeing - bruises and scratches, a black eye, the imprint of someone’s hands around your neck; your hair left unbrushed for days, whatever remnants of make-up from that day you haven’t been able to wash off of yourself. At the very least, he can’t see the feeling of those hands all over you, still burning, still clinging to every cell of your skin.

He brushes your arm, a tender gesture, something he’s done before countless times, the tip of his fingers running from your shoulder half-way down towards your elbow - and you jerk back, away from his touch, away from him, eyes open wide as your stomach turns and you move to the opposite side of the bed.

“Don’t touch me,” a hiss. A warning. Another plea. You cannot look at him, so you lower your gaze to his hand instead, left hanging in the space between the two of you.

“Cariño,” he pulls back, gives you space. His hand falls to the mattress, your eyes remain glued on it - it’s familiar, comforting from afar. You’ve held that hand, slapped it playfully, taken glasses and cigarettes from it - you’ve had it through your hair, on your back, caressing your skin, falling between your thighs. You recoil, shaking your head. “What happened?” he repeats, softer.

He knows what happened - he’s read the report, heard the others talk about you not coming in. And he can see it, all over you, in your reactions, in your lowered gaze. You’ve always bounced back, and it’s terrifying seeing you like this.

You know he knows - it’s in his voice, his gaze firm on you.

“Vale, me lo dijiste,” it’s a mutter as you bow down your head, still refusing to look at him. “But I got what we needed, I did my report, it’s done.” “I’m not here to say I told you so,” he could sound offended, but he does not. The gentleness in his voice is agonizing. It makes it all more real. “I’m here to check up on you.”

“You did - now you can go,” you know Javier, you know he’s as stubborn as you are. So it doesn’t surprise you when he scoffs.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, and you feel yourself deflate, hiding your head between your knees. “I’ll call Connie, she can -” “She’s seen me already,” you cut him off, harsher than you mean to. “I went to her that night. I’m -” you can’t say it.

You want to say it, but you can’t. I’m fine. Physically, you’re fine - the bruises are healing, and while your muscles are still sore from lying down all day since you got back home, there’s nothing broken. But then Javi lifts his hand, as if reaching for you, and you flinch again, lowering your gaze again.

“Mirame, cariño,” he speaks softly, lowering himself onto the mattress to look up towards your bowed head, eyes searching across your face. You blink your eyes open slowly, a shuddering breath leaving you the moment you meet his gaze - it’s warm, familiar, reassuring. “No voy a lastimarte.”

“I know,” you haven’t cried once since it happened, the pressure behind your eyes ever present but never manifesting in actual tears. As you speak with Javi, it builds up in your throat, burning at the corner of your eyes. “I know that.”

“Can I move closer?” he asks then, making sure you see his hands resting on the bed, away from you. “I won’t touch you.”

You hesitate - despise the fact that you hesitate. He’s Javi. He’s long nights and laughter and dancing too close, he’s a reassuring hand on your shoulder during work and an extra pair of eyes while out on a job, he’s ruffled hair first thing in the morning when you get to the office and a stolen kiss that wasn’t supposed to happen but then happened again and again.

He’s Javi - he couldn’t hurt you if he tried. And still you hesitate before nodding slowly, fingers pushing into the flesh of your thighs. The pain makes it almost bearable, easier to not think about it. For a few instants of dull ache, everything else vanishes - it’s just him shifting closer, his eyes not leaving you before he settles at your side.

He leans back against the pillows, legs up on the bed, careful to keep his shoes off the covers - there’s enough space between the two of you for a pillow or two, and he rests his hand in that empty space. It’s not an invitation, just a reassurance. You turn your head to look at him, knowing he’s doing the same already.

“Have you eaten anything?” he looks at you worrying your bottom lip, his eyebrows arching carefully - he knows it’s your tell. He knows you’d be lying if it wasn’t him asking the question. But he can read you so easily it feels pointless to even try.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you murmur instead.

“Have you?” he repeats, head tilted to the side, that attentive and knowing look of his making his eyes shimmer in the warm light of the room. Your lips quiver as you shake your head - you can’t remember the last thing you ate, the thought of standing in front of the stove to cook something unbearable during the past days, the idea of going out to get something even worse. “I’ll go make you something.”

“Javi -” you try to argue, but he’s shaking his head as he slides off the bed, his shoes softly thudding against the floor as he stands. He’s moving slowly, you notice, careful not to make any sudden movement.

“No es tema de discusión,” he warns, already walking towards the door. He stops before vanishing in the corridor, hand lingering against the doorframe, head turning to look at you again; his lips are parted, as if to say something else, eyes running up and down your curled up body - then he clears his throat and walks out, a light knock against the wood of the frame as he passes by. 

Javier Peña is a surprisingly good cook.

Though you weren’t hungry before, whatever it is he’s managed to put together with the scraps around your kitchen has an inviting smell that wakes up a vague appetite. You’re not sure what it is he’s doing, curled up on the couch you dragged yourself to, a way too large cardigan engulfing you.

He knows how to move around your house, has been here enough times he doesn’t have to linger and think about where is what - he fits in, and the image hangs onto something deeply buried within you, a type of yearning you haven’t felt in a while.

But then he steps closer to you to hand you the plate, and you feel your body tense, muscles so taut the pain springs up again - he seems to notice, of course he does, and rests the plate on the coffee table in front of you, then takes a step back, hands sliding into his back pockets.

“It’s Hoppin’ John - well, arroz con frijoles,” he clears his throat, tilting his head a little to point at the plate. “My mother made it all the time - learned it by being in the kitchen too much.”

An involuntary smirk catches on your lips - the image of a young Javi looking up at his mother, those dark, lovely eyes following the movements of her hands as she cooked so closely he now knows how to replicate the dish. Now he’s offering it to you, that distant piece of himself he still finds comfort in, and you find yourself sinking in the warmth of it.

You sit back with the plate balanced on your knee, looking down at the food.

“Thank you,” a murmur to which he replies with a dismissive noise, shrugging as he steps back towards the kitchen aisle. “You can -” again you hesitate, then meet his eyes. Dark, lovely eyes, where you constantly expect to find pity but don’t. There’s worry, but no different than the time you got shot in the arm, no different than when you drink too much and wobble around him. He looks at you and sees the same person he’s always seen - not the rotten thing you feel building in you. “You can stay on the couch, it’s okay.”

He doesn’t ask if you’re sure, just walks around the other side of the coffee table and settles at the opposite end of the couch with a mock weary sigh.

“You really need new chairs,” he says instead - he’s complained about the chairs in your apartment from the first morning he spent in it, the way they creak and sway when he sits down, as if threatening to give out in a moment. Every time he spends the night, he says it, a part of this odd routine you’ve created with each other.

“Yeah, I know,” you repeat each time with a scoff - this once, the further familiarity catches a semi-smile on your lips. “I will.” “I heard that one before,” he grins, then tips his chin up. “Go on, eat up.”

It’s a silent, odd meal where you realize how long you’ve actually gone without eating, your hand trembling slightly as you bring the fork to your mouth. He tries to not make it obvious he’s watching you at the corner of his eye, knee bouncing in an almost imperceptible way - but you’d do the same, you know that. Every time he’s gotten hurt, you’ve doted on him a little more - he’s merely returning the favor. 

At some point - how long has he been here already? You can’t tell if it’s three hours or thirty minutes, but certainly the middle of the night - Javier stops pretending he’s not looking at you. He’s sitting with his shoulder against the backrest of the couch, one leg curled up on the cushion, and he lets his gaze wander across your figure huddled in the opposite corner.

Your legs ache for being bent so long, ankles and knees popping whenever you shift a little, and the bruises on your hips do not welcome the hunched position - it’s been like this for the past days, the pain keeping you awake until you couldn’t anymore. Then the nightmares would come back, and it would start all over again.

Your face scrunches up and you bow your head, forehead falling to your knees.

“You okay?” his voice is soft and husky, as it always gets late at night.

“It’s just a headache,” though it isn’t exactly true, it’s easier to start there. You lift one hand to the back of your head, hovering over the knot of hair you ignored for the whole time, as he has - it hasn’t been brushed in days, and it’s starting to feel heavy and giving you a headache now that you’re not lying down in the dark. “I think I should start to try and save this.”

“Do you -” his eyes flicker towards your head resting on the tangle at the nape of your neck, lips parting with a sharp inhale as he hesitates, his hands dancing closer to his body. “Can I help you?” he says in the end.

“That bad, huh?” you scoff, attempting a line of humor as you move your fingers from the hair mass. “It’s alright, Javi, I’ll manage.”

“Déjame ayudarte, por favor,” he whispers, his gaze softening as he curls his hand over his knee - the rawness of feelings in his voice hits you square in the chest, leaving you slightly out of breath.

It’s like he knows - that you’ve walked into the bathroom always with the lights off to avoid looking at your reflection, that any time you thought about brushing your hair, it wasn’t your hand you felt on your head but someone else’s, and it made your skin crawl, that even though you tried you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You cannot care for yourself, not right now.

“Okay,” a tentative whisper, a nod. “Okay,” he repeats, softer, and stands from the couch.

He moves to your end of it and, standing at arm’s distance, offers you his hand - he waits for you to initiate it, for you to touch him or ignore him. Ever so slowly, you let your hand slide into his, holding your breath when his fingers curl around it gently. It’s warm and familiar - its weight, the softness of his palms compared to his calloused fingers, and still he waits as you exhale and get up, bones creaking through the movement.

Javier walks ahead, his fingers threading through yours, slow steps along the dark corridor until you reach the bathroom - when he switches on the light, you turn your gaze away from the mirror, free hand clenching at your side.

“Wait, I’ll go get the stool so you can sit by the tub,” he loosens his hold on your hand - in response, you tighten yours, and his gaze flickers up towards your face.

“I’ll just get in the tub, it’s okay,” maybe it’s yourself you’re reassuring as he rubs your knuckles with his thumbs. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before already, anyway, is it?”

He chuckles, easing the slight tension and, with a gentle squeeze of your hand he lets go, stepping towards the tub and starts filling it up, then begins to roll up his sleeves - and once again, you feel frozen. You know he’s watching you from the corner of his eye as you fiddle with the hem of the cardigan, but says nothing while checking the water’s temperature.

You can’t do it - past shrugging the cardigan off of your shoulders, you can’t do it. Looking up, you meet his gaze, and by now you’re way past hiding the silent plea in your eyes. Not with him, not when he’s looking at you with such gentleness.

“I can still go call Connie,” he offers, stepping closer. You’re shaking your head already as he speaks, lowering your gaze. He sighs, carefully extending his hands - instead of reaching for your shirt, he takes hold of your wrist, leading your hand on his shoulder. “If you want me to stop, just squeeze, alright?” You nod only, holding your breath when he lowers his hands. “Mírame, cariño.”

So you hold his gaze as he peels off the layers around you - the old t-shirt goes first, then he’s undoing the knot of the sweats and pushing them down, careful to not touch too much of your skin. His eyes flicker to your sides, and you don’t have to look down to know your hips are bruised - your lower back too, most likely.

Javi sinks to his knees and you lean a little more of your weight on him as he helps you step out of your pants and, with them, your socks - for a moment it’s a knot of fabric and arms, slipping balance and cold tiles in contrast with the warmth of his hand around your ankle. He looks up and grins - a little awkward, a little bashful, and your heart warms all over again.

He reaches up again once he knows you’re stable, hooks his fingers in the sides of your underwear - you squeeze his shoulder then, hard, unable to help the sharp inhale at the feeling of his hands brushing your thighs, vision flashing white as panic settles in. He stops himself, pulls his hands back and rests them against the floor by you.

“Alright,” he coos, voice low as he pushes himself up carefully. “It’s okay - solo soy yo,” he whispers, meeting your hazy gaze. “Just me. Sigue mirándome.”

You nod with a whimper, squeezing his shoulder again as he comes back into vision - he’s still not touching you, hands held at his sides, but slowly starts rocking from one side to the other, bringing you with him in a sort of half-hazarded, soothing dance.

“What are you doing?” you manage to ask, a little breathlessly - he shrugs, muscles shifting under your hand and, at his slight pout, you cannot help flashing a quivering smile. “I thought we’ve never danced together, have we?” you scoff at his question, shaking your head. “You’ll have to teach me, though.”

“You’re not doing so bad,” you concede, carefully letting your hand shift down his upper arm. He gives you a loop-sided smile, and you let your hand fall to his elbow, giving it a gentle nudge. “Thank you,” it’s a whisper, but there’s no sound in the room besides your breathing, and his gaze softens on you. “I got it,” you say then, stepping out of the last piece of fabric covering you.

You’ve never realized how comforting Javi’s presence is, the length he goes to so that you’re not uneasy - it dawns on you as he helps you step into the tepid water, his hold firm yet gentle on your hands, getting on his knees again as you sink under the surface up to your chest.

For a while he doesn’t speak, there’s just the splashing of water as it ripples and settles around your still form, the scraping of your hair oil bottle as he reaches to grab it from the shelf, him clearing his throat after pouring a few drops on his palm. Before reaching for your head though, with his clean hand, he takes yours and places it on his forearm, giving you a pointed look.

“Whatever it is, you squeeze,” he repeats as you bring your legs up to your chest, water sloshing with the movement again. Bottom lip trapped between your teeth, you nod, and only then his gaze leaves your face.

He’s so gentle with you - you’ve known before that Javier is capable of this softness, this delicacy, and it does not come as a surprise when he starts to apply the oil to your hair from the tips, his touch so light you can barely feel it. It feels overwhelming, after isolating yourself for the past few days, it’s this touch that makes you crumble at last.

A shuddering inhale, he works the oil through the knots, beginning to brush through it with his fingers first - lock by lock, tangle by tangle, humming soft praises under his breath.

By the time he’s done with this first passage, the pressure built up at the corners of your eyes has been released, hot tears falling down your cheeks having escaped your control. Still, you hold onto his arm, listen to his gentle voice, the noise of the water behind your back as he washes as much of the oil off his skin as he can.

“Do you want me to stop, cariño?” your vision is blurry, but you see him with his arms resting on the edge of the tub, leaning in a little. It takes you a moment to clear your sight and make him out fully - only then do you ease back into the comfort of his presence and shake your head.

“I’m okay,” still, you can’t help the tears as they keep falling, sniffling as you let go of his arm to rub at your face - your black eye hurts when you brush against it. “Just - keep going.” “Vas muy bien,” he whispers, lifting his hands from the water. “Here, can I?”

Your lips tremble as you nod, and his touch on your face sends shivers down your spine - it’s not unpleasant, but for a moment your heartbeat quickens and a hiccuping breath leaves you. He’s far more gentle than you, rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs, and you ever so slowly sink into the feeling, leaning into his touch as more tears flow through his you’re okay, you’re okay.

“Lean back a little for me,” he calls then, one hand shifting until he’s cupping the nape of your neck for support. “We need to wash your hair, water’s getting cold.”

“It’s fine,” you retort, while leaning back into his hand, blinking rapidly to clear away the tears and look at him once more. His nose is lightly scrunched up, eyes trained to the top of your head - when he notices your gaze on him, he meets your eye.

“It’s getting cold,” he repeats, and guides you until the crown of your head is under the water. A shudder runs down your spine, eyes fluttering shut and open, shut and open with a puff of air leaving your lips. Javi says nothing, but a little smirk catches the corner of his mouth.

He squeezes some shampoo directly onto your head with his free hand, and you almost want to point out that’s not the way he’s supposed to do it as your lips bend in a sheepish smile - he’s still supporting your head up, his thumb tracing soothing, small circles right behind your ear. He’s not even trying - it’s a gesture he’s done before, his quiet way of saying I’m here, it’s alright.

When he lets go, it’s to lather the shampoo on your scalp - you look at him as he does it, eyelashes heavy with tears and water, his lips slightly parted, brows knit with focus, his forearm covered in tiny drops of water that are trickling down towards his rolled sleeve.

“Back,” he instructs again, and you oblige. “Mind your eyes,” he adds then and, hand coming out of the water to hold onto his wrist, your eyes fluttering shut when he rinses your hair, still gentle, still careful. For the first time in almost a week, you don’t see figures behind closed lids - it’s just nothingness, the echo of the light, the shadow of Javi’s frame, and his pulse is rhythmic under your hand, a constant reminder that he’s there, that it’s him.

It’s over with him murmuring a there as he squeezes the water out of your hair, the clear sound of drops falling behind your back, some trickling down your neck, your shoulders, your chest. His touch vanishes when he reaches to remove the stopper and the tub starts emptying.

As the water lowers around you, you look up to see him standing by the tub - he has the towel draped over his shoulder, his hands extended towards you in offering. With his help, you lift yourself up, muscles aching again through the movement - up and out on slightly unsteady legs and, from above his shoulder, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.

This time you don’t avert your gaze: the black eye blinks back at you, but the bruise around your neck looks better now in the harsh lights - with a step aside, out of Javier’s frame, the shadow of vanishing scratches on your shoulder comes into view, further down the bruises on your hips, shaped like the grip of different hands, still tender to the touch, unlike the numbness on your inner thighs that reveals itself to be a stain meeting where the flesh of each leg touches. You reach for that spot, that blotch of mismatched color that, when you push a finger into it, feels like nothing - a distant soreness, perhaps, the barest hint of discomfort.

Javi says your name - soft, gentle, a hand hovering your back where you know there’s another mark, another stark reminder of what’s been done to you - and your breath catches in your throat. He’s watching you, too, and the moment your nostrils flare he’s placed himself in front of the mirror again, standing between the two of you as a shield, the towel open.

You step into it, into him, bowing your head towards his shoulder without actually resting against him, only breathing in his perfume, as rooting as his touch has been. Slowly, you turn your head and let your eyes fall shut - it’s still him, it’s still his perfume, his breath against your face - and lean into him, forehead touching his cheek as you exhale.

“I’m okay,” from now on, it’ll be a mantra, a reminder as you go on through the days, the weeks, the months. You’re okay. You’re out. You’re going on. You haven’t been broken. You’re okay. But in this moment, it’s for him only - for his hesitant touch, to relieve his heart as the corner of his mouth ghosts your temple. “Sujétame, Javi.”

Javier has never been shy about his touches - he’s never cared, really, holding you against his chest, on his lap while out for a drink with the others, or leaving a kiss on the top of your head first thing in the morning when he gets to the office, or after a job, pulling you into a quick, reassuring hug.

No matter the unspoken rule that makes sure what you have is not a relationship, it’s just because - you cannot afford to be actually together anyway, because what would happen if the other got seriously hurt or worse, with the way your work is?

It doesn’t feel like a valid rule anymore, his arms slithering around you and holding you with a newfound tenderness - for a moment, it seems like he’s terrified of breaking you, should his touch be too much. But then he tightens one arm around you, almost painful, drawing a hiccuping breath out of you as his other hand moves up to pillow your head and hold you against him.

The rule does not hold up anymore, and you melt against him at the kiss he leaves against your brow, the aching tension leaving your body at the light scratch of his mustache on your skin - that too is familiar, welcomed. Javi, your Javi, holding you up even when your knees start to buckle, a soothing reassurance falling from his lips while he rubs your back.

“Alright? You okay?” he asks all the while, and you that, were you to show the mere hint of discomfort, he’d let you go right away. So instead you wrap your own arms around him, press yourself into him ignoring the coil of dread building in your chest.

He’s Javi. Your Javi. There’s no safer place than the circle of his arms.

“Can you stay?” it almost surprises you, how the request of keeping distance between the two of you turns into a plea for him to be close, to just keep holding you. “Please,” a whisper into the curve of his neck, his perfume flooding your senses, rooting you furthermore.

“‘Course, cariño,” he’s running his fingers through your hair, as if still detangling it - he’ll keep up the gesture all night long, even after you’ve fallen asleep, even in the hazy state he falls in as dawn breaks. “I’m not going anywhere.”

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña x ofc #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña fic #javier pena #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena x oc #javier pena x female reader #javier pena x f!reader #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x fem!reader #javier peña x y/n #pedro pascal characters

[smittywing]

Criminal Minds Post 5x01

For @fixomnia-scribble:

This doesn't actually have a title. I was writing it as a follow-up to the season 5 premiere, when Foyet attacks Hotch in his home but I think it became an AU too quickly? Anyway, have some Team below the cut!

Footsteps fell on the stairs behind her and Emily twisted around to see Rossi on his way up with Morgan behind him.  "Hey," he said.  "My office."  She let him pass and exchanged glances with Morgan, whose eyebrows were knit with concern.  She took a deep breath and followed them into Rossi's office, watching him close the door after them.

Rossi didn't sit down, so Emily and Morgan didn't either.  Instead, he put his hands on his hips, pushing his jacket back, and looked about as pissed off as Emily had ever seen him.  Which, in the past couple of days, was pretty damn pissed off.

"We're not working the Reaper case," he said.

"What?" Emily said, but Morgan thundered,

"The hell we're not!" over her.

"I just got out of a meeting with Strauss," Rossi said, starting to pace.  "She was pretty clear.  Foyet's going to another team."

"No," Morgan said, as Emily just let her mouth hang open.  "No way.  You go back in there and tell her that's bullshit."

Rossi's head snapped up and his eyes cut sharply to Morgan.  "Don't think I haven't already," he said.  "Another team's getting the case."

"They're not Hotch's team," Morgan said.

"Damn straight," Rossi said.  "This is what we're going to do.  Morgan, you're picking up Reid today, right?  Aren't you late?"

"Not - yeah, yeah I am," Morgan said. 

"Good," Rossi said.  "Get going.  And make sure you stop by Hotch's room.  We wouldn't want him to get bored."  He glanced at the wall separating his office from Hotch's.  "And find a few extra things to keep him busy.  There's a file box behind his desk.  Has some old stuff in it."

"Got it," Morgan said, and took off.  Emily could hear him rifling in Hotch's office next door.

"What can I do?" she asked.

"We're terribly backlogged on paperwork," Rossi told her in the same tone of voice he'd used with Morgan.  "Canada, Barton, the Reaper.  It could take us the rest of the week to catch up."

"We might not be able to do anything else until it's out of the way," Emily agreed, nodding.  She got it.  If she helped Rossi clear the backlog of paperwork in the next day or two, they could feign administrative duties while quietly investigating Foyet.

"Emily," Rossi said, more hesitantly, and without the false innocence of his previous words.  Emily tried to remember if he called everyone by their first name.  It seemed normal to hear his voice shaping the syllables of her's and she didn't think he did that for everyone.  "Strauss wanted to debrief you about yesterday."

Shit.  Emily sighed and rolled her eyes.  She knew she'd catch shit for leaving an investigation, for going to Hotch's house on her own, for every single one of her decisions since she left Barton's house.  She knew she'd done the right thing, and she knew the inquisition would ultimate determine that she'd done the right thing, that she'd made the decisions that needed to be made, but it was going to be painful and time-consuming, and most of all, it meant she was going to have to sit across from Erin Strauss for something like two hours and defend those decisions.  "That is so going to suck," she muttered.

"I know," he said.  "That's why I told her I'd be the one doing the debriefing.  She wants me to be Acting Unit Chief, she gets to deal with me handling my agents my way."

Emily felt a wash of relief.  Telling the story to Rossi, reliving the whole thing across the table from him, would be far better than doing it with Strauss.  He might ask some hard questions, he might give her some shit for not checking with him on some things, but she knew where she stood with him, and she already knew that he agreed with her actions.

"Thank you," she said, the relief more evident in her voice than she'd intended.  She tried to rein it in.  Compartmentalize.  Block away.  In a little box with the noises from yesterday.  She cleared her throat.  "I stand by my actions.  But it's always more...comfortable to review decisions made - "

"Emily," Rossi interrupted.  The corner of his mouth turned up.  "I'm not debriefing you now."  He turned to the stack of casefiles on his desk.  "Here, if you can get started on William Hightower, I'll take Barton.  We'll probably need Reid to finish that one up, but we can set him on that tomorrow.  I'll let you know when I'm done and we'll tackle the profile on the Turners together."

"Oh, okay," Emily said, taking the proffered files.  "No problem."

"Do you think you'll be able to stay late tonight?" he asked.

"I was planning on it," she said. 

"Good," he said, giving her that little half smile.  "We've got a lot of work to do."

#wips #criminal minds #emily prentiss #david rossi #derek morgan

[panicatthediaz]

Runaway

Ladies and gentlemen, wolves and ghouls, it's October now! How wild is that? This is my entry for Day 1 of @eddiemonth. Fic's titled after the song prompt for the day, Runaway by Sword, that is in no real way in the fic. So, without further ado... werewolves :D

Warnings: Parent death. Not described in detail, but fairly obvious, at the very end. Wordcount: 1941

Eddie was itchy. So, so itchy.

His Ma said it was normal, and laughed a little at the face he made at that. The laughter was a lot louder when he tackled her into a hug, but she didn't stumble much, just swiftly picked him up for a quick squeeze.

He wondered if he’d be as strong as her, some day; his mother was the strongest wolf Eddie had ever met.

(He had been ten years old when he first wondered about Lauren Munson’s strength. His opinion hadn’t changed, even after everything that had happened later.)

“You two ready to go?” Wayne asked, poking his head inside the kitchen. Wayne had joined his Ma on full moon runs years ago, before Eddie even knew they were all werewolves.

To his nine-year-old self, that had been the coolest revelation. His parents had spent the last year teaching him everything he needed to know for his first shift. But neither of his parents warned him it would itch so much!

Wayne laughed when he told him that, ruffling his hair. “It does suck,” he agreed. “I think I was itchy that whole week, when I first shifted. Very restless, too”

Eddie looked up at his uncle, horrified. He thought that if he’d had to deal with this for anything more than a day, he would have gone insane.

His Ma laughed softly, shaking her head at the two of them. “You’ll get used to it in no time, Eddie,” she reassured. “Shouldn’t be itchin’ much after tonight.”

He looked at Wayne, who nodded seriously.

They were out of the door after his mom grabbed the bag of extra clothes. His dad was in the car, looking at them with a smile. He always looked a little happier during the full moon.

“I’ll see y’all in the park,” Wayne told them as he walked to his own truck.

There was no one out on the street, but Eddie still looked around carefully; he understood pretty quickly the importance of being careful after many horror stories, real and fairy tales alike.

Once he figured it was safe, Eddie ran to the car and clambered into the backseat, making his dad laugh as he stumbled slightly.

“Hey, kiddo,” he greeted, turning on his seat to face Eddie. “Feeling itchy yet?”

“So much!” he groaned, dramatically falling sideways until he was lying down. His mom entered the car at that moment. “Can’t wait to shift!”

She laughed lightly. Eddie knew she worried about how he’d fare when the full moon actually came, but he maintained that it was one of the coolest things about them all.

——

Well. Eddie knew it wasn’t gonna be painless. Everyone told him that the first shift is hard. But he was already exhausted, and he’d just shifted. He still had a run to get through!

He felt a nose poking his back, heard a nearby huff of amusement, but he didn’t move, not yet. He was left alone for another few minutes as the aches in his body subsided.

Now that he was getting used to the new shape, it wasn’t so bad. He flexed a hand — paw? — and knew it wouldn’t go unnoticed. He flexed the other paw, slowly working on getting all his limbs under him so he could stand up.

It was a little weird, this difference in… everything. In a move that felt very natural, Eddie shook his entire body as he stood, feeling a little more settled.

He blinked his eyes open slowly, adjusting to his surroundings. The full moon illuminated the woods well, but there was a sharpness to everything around him that he knew for a fact he didn’t have as a human.

It was kind of cool.

The first wolf he saw was a black one, lying down a few feet away from him in the middle of bright snow. He recognized his dad almost immediately. Once Eddie managed to focus on his face, his brown eyes looked proud, and he tapped one paw on the ground, calling him over.

Eddie moved on unsteady legs, slowly trying to gain confidence. His dad nosed at him once he got close enough — checking in — and grumbled something that Eddie registered as a question.

He tilted his head, unsure how to respond. They hadn’t actually talked about what would come after the shift yet. He had time to figure it out, though; as soon as he figured out how to move around on snow without stumbling.

——

The full moons that followed were easier. He still ached and felt sore all over, but it wasn't as disorienting anymore.

The four of them had just returned from a run. Wayne had already shifted back and left to get the car, probably for Eddie’s benefit; he’d run a lot, feeling free in a way he hadn’t expected. They are in the same park, the same four wolves spending even more time together.

(Pack runs had always been his favorite way to spend the full moons, even when the pack was reduced to two people. It took a good few years for it to properly grow once more, but it was a happy, united one. Eddie couldn’t complain.)

Despite the freedom, though, tonight he was exhausted. There was something about spring that seemed to have energized him in the beginning of the evening, but whatever it was, it was long gone.

He grumbled something meaningless, moving closer to his mom. She was still in wolf form, her dark brown coat almost disappearing into the night.

Using her side as a pillow wasn’t exactly soft, but it was warm and brought him comfort anyway — it was his mom, there was no comfort like his mom’s.

She nipped at his neck, causing him to shift around trying to escape her. He leaped away from her, growling tiredly, and earning a huff for his troubles.

His mom grumbled in response, glancing at his dad a few steps away from them. Nap with him, then. His dad — pretty much invisible at the moment if he hadn’t known he was there — was always the first to fall asleep after runs, and Eddie was always the one to wake him up when Wayne arrived with the car. But he didn’t want his dad right now, and he wasn’t above whining about it, not here.

She huffed, amused, but let him rest next to her all the same, in one of the best naps he’d ever had.

——

Eddie knew a few things about being a werewolf so far.

Eddie knew he had the size of a normal, near-adult wolf; knew that the actual adults, especially his mom, were much bigger than him.

He knew that being able to run with his parents and his uncle was the best part of it all.

It hadn’t taken him long, two or three moons, to get the hang of moving and communicating as a wolf; a lot of it came naturally.

What wasn’t coming as naturally was the control needed. It had been months since he first shifted, and, so far, he’d only been able to do it during the full moon.

And he understood it was early, it hadn’t anywhere near a year, but… he wanted the practice.

So, here he was, in the middle of the woods with his uncle.

Which, in retrospect, might not have been the best idea.

“Sorry, kid, I don’t know how else to explain it.”

He groaned, flopping backwards onto the ground. “This is hard,” he drawled.

At least it was summer, so if anyone showed up, the fact that Eddie was wearing nothing but shorts wouldn’t raise too many questions.

“I think you’re stressin’ about it,” Wayne declared a moment later. “It takes time, Eddie, you gotta let your body get used to it all.”

“I know,” he mumbled, staring at the sky. The late afternoon always had the prettiest colors during the summer. “It’ll come naturally when the time is right,” he quoted, with an honest attempt at imitating his father. It got a snort of laughter out of Wayne, at least. “I just…”

He trailed off. Wayne let the silence be only for a beat before he made a questioning noise. Eddie sighed.

“I don’t know,” he grumbled and closed his eyes with a sigh. “You guys are like, cool.” He raised a hand as if to wave his comment away. “The coolest people I know!” Eddie sat up once more and shrugged, not raising his eyes to meet Wayne’s. “I just… wanna be like you guys.”

He did look up when Wayne approached him, kneeling in front of him and ruffling his hair gently. Eddie grumbled halfhearted complaints about the curls becoming messy.

“Don’t think that’s possible, Eddie,” Wayne replied just as gently. “You’re probably the best part of us all, combined. Your own cool person.”

“Yeah?” Eddie straightened, trying not to smile too wide; given the way Wayne smiled in return, he probably failed.

“Definitely,” he reached out and patted his head. “Now come on.” Wayne stood up and helped Eddie up. “Let’s get some lemonade, yeah?”

——

It wasn’t even a full moon. It wasn’t even night, yet. Eddie had just wanted to help his aunt Mara gather some plants and flowers before fall truly set in, before their runs were closer to home because they couldn’t really justify not being bothered by the cold.

It was supposed to be the first step of his favorite part of the year.

But he’d heard the heavy steps, the distant growl. He saw his mom tense, noticed the scent that didn’t belong in early fall. He froze, clutching the jasmines in his hands and breathing deeply like his dad had taught him to.

Eddie heard the soft whimper, and looked up at his Ma. Whatever she saw in his face was enough to get her moving, taking his hand and walking briskly to a denser part of the woods.

They walked until they reached an old den made by the wolves in the territory, now abandoned.

“Shift,” his mom whispered, “and get in there.”

He would’ve complained about his clothes, but there was a stranger in the territory, and aunt Mara might have been hurt; he knew not to question his mom.

He wished he could celebrate, though; this was the fastest he’d been able to shift outside of a full moon so far, but other than a faint smile from his mom, there was no acknowledgment. There was no time for one.

She walked further into the woods, leaving Eddie to burrow into the den. But he couldn't stay, refused to.

Until he hit his growth spurt, he would look like a normal wolf, which there were plenty of in the surrounding area of his mom's pack; he could sneak back into the house and get help.

He crawled out of the den, listening for any approaching sounds, but everything was distant. Even the birds seemed to have momentarily stopped singing.

And so, he ran.

A pained howl echoed throughout the woods, closer than he’d expected — halfway to the house. He turned, seeing a flash of brown-black fur to his left, just in time to see his mom hunch over and almost fall into a growing pool of blood.

She was hurt. The whimper that escaped him was drowned out by her warning howl.

It was cut short by the sound of a gun.

Eddie was running back to the house before the hunter could overcome his surprise at his presence.

He knew, in a distant way, that she was gone. And without Lauren Munson, everything was about to change.

#Stranger Things #Eddie Munson #Wayne Munson #Allen Munson #werewolf Eddie Munson #(still irked we know *nothing* about his mom but oh well) #parent death #parent death tw #Things were actually going really well for the Munsons before her death #eddiemonth #Next up: Day 5! (y'know on Oct 5) #WeresWriting

[royalsweetteaa]

Title: Perfect like that

Pairing: Bryce Langley x gf!reader

WARNING - The following fic contains: explicit smut, unprotected sex, sexual tension/dirty talk, oral sex (F receiving), sexual touches, body insecurity, insecure!reader, comfort, fluff, cuddle/kisses/touches.

Summary: You have a body insecurity, particularly with your stomach and Bryce won’t allow it.

It was like any other Saturday evening where you and your boyfriend would relax on the couch, binge watch interesting TV shows while having the villa for yourselves as Bryce’s parents were out on events.

You were curled up together, laying relaxed on the big couch and Bryce had been particularly touchy with his hands, squeezing and grabbing non-sexually on wherever your tits and cunt wasn’t. It was like he was just doing it out of curiosity with his head empty, but his observing mind had quickly turned back on when he noticed the soft flesh he just grabbed had disappeared bellow your breasts. He thought he had imagined it at first, so when he didn’t touch there for a good minute and reached for that part again, he had caught your stomach being sucked in.

“Stop that…” Bryce groaned, almost with annoyance, and when he caught your frown in confusion, he continued, “You keep sucking in your stomach whenever I touch you there. You don’t have to do that. Not ever and especially not around me…”

“I’m sorry?” You half apologized, “It’s just something I do automatically….”

“I have noticed.” Bryce mumbled, out of disappointment but it wasn’t aimed at you. He had indeed noticed from previous times whenever he would wrap his arms around you, his hands landing on your stomach which would have you retract your belly through an inhale. The only time you didn’t do that was during sex, when it was too hard for you to suck it in. Bryce showed no mercy in bed, the way you like it anyway, - but that was why you could never avoid exhaling heavily and letting yourself loosen up.

“Why do you feel the need to do that? Does your stomach make you feel bad about yourself in any way?” Bryce asked, sounding concerned. “Because I can fucking assure you right now that there is nothing wrong with having a stomach. It keeps your organs safe, baby. A little fat hurts nobody either.”

You sigh, knowing already this would be a longer topic but you supposed it was perhaps good to express yourself to him about this insecurity of yours. “It’s not like it’s on my mind all the time but…yeah, I suppose you could say I don’t like having the extra fat. Back in high school it was a big topic. It didn’t help that the girls were the ones talking about it all the time, - always bringing a measure every week to check if their waists have expanded or not.”

Bryce scoffed, finding what he was hearing to be absolutely outrageous. “Psh, see I knew it’s the girls who be making other girls insecure. It’s such a silly thing. ‘Ve never heard of a guy criticizing a girl for having a stomach.”

Oh, if only you knew, you thought, rolling your eyes at his wrongly judged statement. “Well, ironically it was the boys in my class who directly called me and other girls ‘fatsies’. That was when I first started sucking in my stomach.”

You felt Bryce’s grip tightened around you, the moment you mentioned there were what you could consider as male bullies harassing you back in the day. “You mean to tell me guys are responsible behind this exact tendency? Give me their names right now, I’m going to give them a piece of my mind and make them disappear.”

You giggled as you shook your head, the bad memories had already left your mind as you found his response somewhat humorous. “That’s not necessary. They don’t matter to me. The only man’s opinion I’ll listen to is yours because you’re a proper man, Bryce.”

He laughed, “Yeah, I am a very proper, intelligent man, so let me be very clear again - this?” Bryce pointed with his eyes as he began stroking your stomach. “This soft, fluffy flesh shouldn’t be a burden. Like I said, all it’s doing is keeping your organs safe. That’s all it is. It’s nothing to feel bad about, whatsoever.” He said, his smile telling honest reassurance to you.

“- And who knows, one day it’ll keep someone else safe too. And even then you’ll look gorgeous, sexy, beautiful, no matter what. You’re just that perfect.” Bryce huskily complimented you as he began to do a circling motion with his hand on your tummy.

You giggled when he pulled in to give your nose a kiss, and he massaged your tummy properly to give you a nice feeling.

Your eyes didn’t leave his putty hands, and you felt yourself become flustered with how affectionate he was treating that one part of your body that you never dared to look at for long in the mirror.

His eyes had darkened when you met his eyes again, and he continued in a more whispering tone; “Plus, when you’re letting loose and I’m still able to see my dick bulging through, - that is always the hottest fucking sight. Strokes my ego in a way like no other.”

“Bryce..” you involuntarily moaned his name as his hand slid down from your stomach, and he cupped your crotch. Your neck was then attacked by his mouthy suckles, making you yelp as you grabbed his shoulders.

His fingers had found its way and he slipped two into your wet cunt right away, knowing he had trained your pussy well to take it. His body was now hovering above you, trapping you under him with one hand working you up as the other unzipped his pants to relieve his hardened cock.

Your underwear and pajamas were quick to be dropped on the floor, your eagerness showing from both parties as you desperately made out.

When your mouths briefly disconnected, he didn’t hold back his filthy mouth. “Mmmh, you’re gonna take my fat cock like a good girl while I fuck the insecurity out of you, baby. Gonna make you want to worship your own body by the end of the night..” he promised, his cock already making home in your cunt as he pushed himself inside.

Bryce’s hands was on your stomach throughout the whole session, sometimes putting pressure by pressing to make you really feel him in there. He didn’t stop praising you, telling you over and over again through every rhythm how beautiful you are and how much he adores every inch of you. He brought you and himself to orgasm, - only after he got you to say it yourself.

“Say you’re my pretty girl, or else I’ll stop... Fucking say it right now.” He ordered through gritted teeth, fucking you harder into the couch.

You cried out when his tip hit your G-spot, and there was no way you could deny him when you desperately needed to chase your orgasm.

“F-Fine!” You stuttered through a whine. “I-I’m your pretty girl, Bryce! Oh fuuuck!!”

He pulled out after you came, painting his load on your thigh with a prideful smirk. The drawer beside the couch contained wipes, and he reached out and took some to clean you up.

When the clean up was done, Bryce pecked on the naked skin of your tummy a few times before he lied beside you, kissing you more before he pulled you close to him.

You were very relaxed, your whole body loose from being tense, including your tummy. Thanks to Bryce, you could finally feel content about it.

N/A: Left for some time but I have somewhat returned with short writing!

Hearts & Reblogs are very appreciated! <3

#bryce langley x you #bryce langley x reader #bryce langley #bryce langley x y/n #cevans character x reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans

[rustbeltjessie]

The past week (the good, the bad, & the miscellaneous):

—One of my uncles is in very bad health, and if he doesn’t get the proper treatment soon, will probably not make it. That’s bad enough on its own, but it has also brought up a whole slew of family drama, which…well, I won’t get into specifics because they’re not really mine to tell, but it sucks.

—The oldest kiddo is doing great with his ADHD meds. He’s better able to focus on schoolwork, he listens better, and he has actual reciprocal conversations more often now. (Like, yesterday, we got into a conversation about AI art/writing, and he had some very well-thought-out opinions! I could tell he wasn't just regurgitating things he'd heard; he'd actually put a lot of thought into it.)

—I've gotten a little sad about the fact that I probably am ADHD, and possibly also autistic, or whatever (there’s definitely some neurodivergence in there), but never got any help when I was a kid/young adult. Because AFAB kids tend to present differently and mask better, y'know? All I know is I had an awful lot of school reports that were like: "J. is really smart, but doesn't follow directions well" or "J. does well on everything, when she decides it's something she wants to do." And then when I reached the age of burnout everyone was like: "But you are so smart! You're just not trying hard enough! You're just lazy!" How much better could I have done, especially in college, had anyone noticed that I was trying, that I was fucking struggling, and it wasn't just laziness?

—Speaking of college, I'm still researching universities I might want to attend when/if I go back for another degree.

—There's also a chance we may be moving sometime in the next year.

—And I'm putting some serious thought into how I wanna proceed with Bone & Ink Press. I want to keep it going, but it has long been untenable the way it's currently going. See, the thing is, I never wanted it to become what it became, a semi-legit publishing house with perfect-bound books and royalty payments and the like. I wanted to do small print run zines and chapbooks. So I'm going to finish up/publish the New Wave anthology, and then the three other titles I have on the roster, and then after that...I think I'm going back to its roots.

—The youngest kiddo had his first online class in astronaut science this morning. He loved it so much, and wants to continue with the rest of the course. Now I just gotta scrounge up some money to pay for the rest. (The first class was free; the rest cost money.)

—My dentist appointment went okay. It was fast and relatively painless. I have two small cavities, and have to go back in a month to get them filled, but they said everything else looks good.

—After the dentist, I had a bunch of errands to run. Normally I enjoy running errands but today I just wanted to get home and relax and also, everyone in town was driving like a jackass, so it took an extra long time to get from one stop to the next.

—But I did see two cuties while out and about. There was a hot middle-aged skater dude in the grocery store. (I know he was a skater because I saw him get out of his car, and it had Santa Cruz, Independent, and other skateboard-related stickers on it.) Downtown, I spotted a beautiful 20-something goth person; they looked appropriately eldritch in a long-black coat and big black boots.

—And while in the checkout at Walgreens, I saw this mom come in with two kids. One of the kids was a goth/punk teen; they shuffled into the store with their shoulders all hunched and a scowl on their face. Amazingly enough, the song that was playing over the sound system at the time was the Siouxsie and the Banshees cover of "Dear Prudence," and the teen recognized it, and for a split second, their scowl turned to a half-smile. And then they went back to scowling. It was perfect, because that is the era of my life which constitutes the bulk of my new zine.

—Speaking of the new zine: it's done, and I am glad it’s done, and I’m pretty pleased with it, but I am also fucking exhausted. To paraphrase something I wrote in my journal in 2009, after finishing a zine: I have completely overdosed on punk rock and stories from my own life. So now, I must cleanse myself with different kinds of music and different writing; namely, fiction and poetry. (Even when my poems are based on my real life experiences, which is often, writing them doesn't deplete me in the same way that writing prose memoir does.)

—I've felt pretty on top of my shit in general lately, but I am somehow flat broke again. Despite all the freelance gigs, side hustles, budgeting, etc. I mean I had to buy more printer ink and paper to complete this zine, so there's that. Then there's the fact that no matter how much we budget, our monthly food money always runs out 5-7 days before it gets refilled. Oh, and then there's the dentist thing. My health insurance covers some dental stuff, but not all, so I gotta pay the rest out of pocket. My dentist has a payment plan, but I had to make a down payment and have another bill due when I go back for my fillings. Shit. Anyway, if anyone wants to order some of my stuff/hire me for stuff, now would be a great time.

#rust belt jessie #personal #long post #life #illness #family #neurodivergence #errands #zine life #plans #broke and ain't got a dime #good things #bad things

[davidfarland]

David Farland’s Writing Tips—Do You Want to Be an Apex Writer?

First, I wanted to have a little shout-out. I was on Facebook on Saturday for a few minutes and noticed that some of my past students had made some major accomplishments:

Martin Shoemaker’s hard science fiction novel The Last Dance hit #1 in its category on Amazon.com and stayed high through the Christmas season, garnering 722 ratings—the vast majority of them being 5-stars. For those who don’t know, hitting over 500 ratings is a major milestone. It ensures that Amazon’s algorithms will bump up the book’s publicity. I’m interested to see how high his sales climb over the next few years. He’s a dedicated writer with a very promising career path.

Monalisa Foster got a novel contract and an acceptance check for Christmas. Great timing!

Rebekah R. Ganiere’s romance novel Rekindling Christmas is being made into a film and will start shooting this week! I’m excited for her. Well deserved!

James Dashner, whose successful Maze Runner movies series recently ended, is getting ready to spring some major news on us. I’m hoping he’s graduated to the level where he has a book-movie joint announcement.

Brandon Sanderson went to his local Barnes and Noble on Saturday and was asked if he would sign some of the books on his “wall.” Now a lot of popular authors get a little extra shelf-space at the bookstores, but you’ve got to be moving huge numbers of books to merit your own wall! I’m including a picture of it. Wishing him great success!

While on Facebook, though, I happened to see a post by a young woman who had set a goal of publishing her first fantasy novel in 2020. She asked how to go about it and was getting lots of bad advice. Yes, some of the advice would lead her to get published—either self-published or traditionally published, but not published well.

If you do it wrong, getting published can be dangerous. Going to a small publisher who can’t get distribution into bookstores, for example, might cause you to make nothing in royalties, lose your rights to your novel for as long as you live, and waste years of your life. Going to the wrong agent—one who is crooked or just plain incapable of connecting with a publisher, can once again waste years of your life.

Even self-publishing may be a total bomb if you don’t know how to go about it.

I really wanted to help her negotiate the path ahead.

Yet this poor young woman had dozens of tips from people who had no idea that their advice sucked. I suspect that much of it came from people who had never published.

So, I suggested that she go to my website to read some of my posts on the topic—and was blocked by the site administrator for “self-promotion.”

I could have offered the writer a free video that might be helpful. I have a seminar on how to publish in 2020. (It’s in my writing Compleat Writer’s Program but hasn’t been put up for sale elsewhere.) But I suspected that the site administrator would have deleted that post, too.

I realized that I often feel blocked. I don’t want to tell you when another author is giving you bad advice.  They’re my friends and peers, after all, and they’re trying to be helpful.

There are things that publishers, film distributors, bookstore chains,  agents and social media companies do that are kind of dangerous to talk about—but that you need to know.

I’ve decided that I need to start a closed group.  How cliché. It seems like everyone who works in a counseling business starts something with a lofty title, like “The Billionaire’s Club,” and they usually charge an arm and a leg for it. So I’ve been resisting the idea for years.

I want to share this information only with authors who are driven, who are ready to take the steps forward, who are trustworthy, and who are also willing to share information.

I’m going to call it the Apex Writer’s group. The goal of the group is simple: I want to help take you from wherever you are in your career, (whether you’re just beginning or are in your mid-career, to become an Apex Writer). An Apex Writer is one who sells books by the millions, whose books get wide advertisement, and who understands how to leverage the advertising from the film industry to make major deals before their books are even released.

One study years ago said that it took the average writer seven years to break into publishing, and it took another seven to become a bestseller. What if you could do it in three or four years? What if we could save each other a decade of struggle? I think that we can do it.

It will take more than just good advice. You’ll need to be in a closed group of writers who are learning how to work within the system, and it will be easier if we share information and work as a team.

Now, you might think, “Ah, but I want to self-publish. I don’t want to work in the traditional publishing field.” That’s fine. But you need to understand that even if you’re a self-published author, you’re working inside a field controlled by Amazon, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Google, and other mega-corporations.

It won’t be expensive to join the group, but there will be a small charge because, heck, there are costs.  There’s my time and expertise, maintenance for websites, and costs for administration. So it will cost a couple hundred per year.

You will have access to a closed group on Facebook, to my Compleat Writer’s Program, to the new bulletin board system going up this week, to regular meetings held online—and to further program benefits as it grows.

If you are interested in applying to become an Apex Writer, simply reply to this email with one word: Apex. I’ll send you an application to join, let you know if I think that you’re ready, and tell you what would be expected.

(note: to apply to Apex Writers, visit apex-writers.com )

For more on David Farland's Writing tips, visit https://mystorydoctor.com/writing-blog/

And you can also click here to get your David Farland Daily Meditations.

#writing advice #writing tips #writing help #writing tips and tricks

[galvanizedfriend]

32, 33, 36, 37 for the ask game ♥️

Hi, friend! How's it going?

Do you have a word/expression that you always use in your writing?

I'm sure I have several. 🤔 I tend to get attached to certain words or expressions because English is not my first language and then I repeat them often and I'm aware of that as I do it, but I can't think of anything in particular right now lol If I had to guess, it's probably something Klaus says to/about Caroline. I always run wild with the way he talks about her, he's so extra. I'm sure I must have repeated myself. 😂 But I have the memory of a dead fish lol I'm sure it will come to me at like 3 in the morning when I'm in bed, trying to sleep.

Give your writing a compliment.

Oh man 😂 I don't know how to compliment myself lol I guess my writing is kinda decent? Could do with some improvements, maybe some beta-reading, but it's ok? Ish? Maybe? I don't know 😂

I like to think I have a good humorous vein in writing, obviously when I'm writing stuff that's more on the lighthearted side (like the romcom stuff), and I think I write a good Elijah? I don't know if those are true, it's just what I feel in my heart 😂 I'm usually proud of my Elijah, and I feel like he's a difficult one to get right. I also always try very hard to do good adaptations when I'm writing AUs, especially human AUs. Doesn't matter the setting or the type of story it is, I do very meticulous work in picking the characters so their personalities will match and they won't be just random OOC people thrown in with a name slapped on them for convenience. I also draw parallels to canon, bring in lots of references, sometimes even little comments. I like for things to still be recognizable regardless even if it's a completely different world, and I think that makes for better stories, especially with AUs. I don't know if anybody ever notices that, but yeah, that's something I personally feel I do a decent job with.

How do you come up with fic titles? What's the one you're most proud of?

Fic titles are the woooooooooorst! I suck at titles, I think I hate almost all of mine. I usually take them from songs, some I tweak a little, but yeah, it's mostly from music. But I usually regret them. Like The Wolf. What was I thinking?

My favorite fic title is probably Vice & Virtue or The Sound of Settling. Gasoline is a little stupid, but I really think it fits the story, at least in my head it does.

Do you research before writing or while you write? Is it fun or boring for you?

I do! I research for everything, even tiny details within stories, even if it's just to write a single line of information, I do some research. I once spent hours using google street view to find the building they use as the compound in The Originals just so I'd know exactly where it's located and what one would see if they looked out the window or stepped out on the balcony (it's Royal St. 837, if anyone's curious). I do a lot of research, yes. Sometimes it's more basic stuff, just to get a date or name or random bit of info right, sometimes it's more in depth. I like doing it, but at the same time it's so distracting. I can sometimes spend hours on research and then before I know the day is over and I haven't written anything. 🙃

Thank you so much for your asks! Have a lovely week! ✨

#ask game #push1na

[saucymincks]

The Kosher Meat Boycott of 1902

Everyone knows about the kosher meat boycott from the early 1900s right?

No?

Okay I can't possibly do the whole history justice because I'm still researching it, so I encourage you to go look for more info when you have a chance, but the gist of it is that a bunch of rich dudes who were literally a BEEF TRUST (BEEF TRUST can you IMAGINE your job title being BEEF TRUST) decided "hey we don't have enough money, somehow, so let's hike the price of kosher meat by an absolutely absurd amount"

The absurd amount was going from 12 cents a pound to 18 cents. Now, I'm gay, so I can't do math, but that's a pretty significant hike all at once.

This is a dick move for like eleventy million reasons. Obviously because oh my god no you do not need to be richer are you kidding me. Also because hey hiking the price of food when you don't have to absolutely sucks and you shouldn't do it. EXTRA also because observant Jews can't just be like "oh looks like kosher beef is out of our price range, let's just grab something else". Jews who keep kosher literally cannot knowingly eat something that is not kosher unless it is literal life or death. By pricing people out of meat entirely, it completely fucked up meals for so many families.

Remember, this was 1902. It's not like people could easily access, like, vegan alternatives for stuff. This isn't a "just use some tofu" situation. People who were priced out of kosher meat were being priced out of all the nutritional benefits that meat provides. These were families of hard workers, with elderly relatives, with little kids, suddenly unable to access a very important part of their diet. It was a big deal.

So what happened?

Well, have you ever pissed off a Jewish woman who needed to feed her family? Probably not, because you have lived to tell the tale.

Jewish mothers, Jewish housewives, Jewish women workers - they said "fuck this" and boycotted. Protested. They broke windows, they threw meat, they started fired, they made home visits to make sure no one was secretly buying kosher meat. These women absolutely did not fuck around. They DEMANDED a fair price for an essential part of their lives, and by golly, quite a bunch of them got arrested in the process of making that demand.

Three weeks after the protests began, the price was lowered by four cents a pound. Frustratingly, prices would later rise again, but still. There was success. So much so that this boycott was basically used as a blueprint for a lot of other protests in the future, including the 1909 shirtwaist strike. And it was a bunch of thirtysomething housewives doing this! That is so fucking cool!

Anyway I just feel like this is a neat little bit of history that more of us should know about!

#jewish history #judaism #history #kosher meat boycott #jewish women #jewish

[raveyardantics]

Cringe

Summary: In The Ultimate Enemy, Valerie blames Danny (Phantom) for the inciting incident, so I thought we’d look at that a bit more. Further Inspired by the song “Cringe” by Matt Maeson too.

Characters: Valerie Gray, Damon Gray, Dark Danny/ ‘Dan’ Phantom

Word Count: 2,400

[...] She said I’m looking like a bad man, smooth criminal

She said my spirit doesn’t move like it did before

She said that I don’t look like me no more, no more

I said I’m just tired, she said you’re just high lying [...]

It was raining again in Amity Park. These last few weeks it had been a near constant -morning, noon, and night- as if god were trying to either wash away any trace of the city or clean a stubborn spot that no one else was noticing. If you asked Valerie Gray, she’d definitely tell you it was the latter, and she could even point out the blemish; the bombed out ruinscape that had once held the dignified title of “The Nasty Burger.” She stood silent in the crumbling wreckage, her face still despite how much she wanted to scream from just being near the place anymore. It had been three months since the accident, since the explosion. Six dead. Twenty-one injured. Hundreds of thousands in property damage. Zero actual answers as to what happened that night.

She should be thankful, really. She was scheduled to work doubles that entire week, but since the fight a few days before the explosion had ruined the side of the building, she had taken the extra free time to study for the C.A.T exams. Her grandpa had always said that book learning would save her life, and unfortunately, he seemed to hit the nail on the head this time. Shame it didn’t do anything for the others, she thought, kicking a piece of rubble into what used to be the dining area. 

She should be thankful…but once again she just found herself angry and sad.

Valerie told herself she wasn’t going to cry when she finally visited the restaurant. It had actually become a sort of local memorial to the fallen. “The Six” they had been called in the papers, a sick joke that served to give an air of celebrity to the victims of the tragic accident. There’d been after school group trips to The Nasty Burger by the students and faculty to put flowers in the wreckage, reporters trying to get a quote from anyone and everyone with the slightest connection to the victims or the establishment (they almost had a field day after Valerie slammed one to the ground for taking pictures of Mrs. Fenton’s sister when she came to take her home, vultures) and even a surprise appearance from Vlad Masters early on, who - in a state of shock - had offered to pay for all of the funerals. She should have felt more at ease seeing her benefactor in all of this come swooping in to play clean up, but he seemed… off. He was visibly rattled, audible mumbling about changing plans and completely losing the composure he’d had the last time they had seen each other. Even in a town already plagued by ghosts, nothing shook people quite like being too close to the dead.

Thunder rumbled and lightning illuminated the sky as Valerie remembered the last thing Mr. Masters had told her months ago; I- they haven’t seen Daniel in days… if you see him… hear from him, please, do let me know? 

He hadn’t looked at Valerie the entire time he spoke to her and honestly, she could understand why. She remembered him and Mr. Fenton discussing football and loudly laughing as they worked hard together after the town had been sucked into the ghost dimension. Zone, she corrected herself, a minor annoyance in the memory, it’s more of a ghost zone, actually. Regardless of what she or anyone else called it,  when they were stranded there the Fentons had stepped up big time, offering their technology and their home to anyone who needed it, including her and her father.

He was currently holding the umbrella for her while she took the scenery in. An ever calming presence in her life, Damon was holding back his own tears, determined not to give the rain running down his face any more company as he provided strength for his daughter. His selflessness reminded her a lot of both Tucker and Jazz, two people she didn’t get to know as well as she probably could have. Valerie remembered the dozen texts Tucker had sent the night he stood her up, apologizing and explaining that he had to go help Danny with something at the last minute. There was just something about him she couldn’t stay mad at, something genuinely charismatic there; someone who was used to playing peacemaker without a second thought because, as he said, he’s a lover not a fighter.

Well, he was.

She kept going like that for a while, thinking of all the good things about the people who were now gone. Romanticizing them a bit, sure, but not enough to dehumanize them. She thought of how often she’d seen Jazz running study groups afterschool, juggling multiple subjects with a smile on her face as she bounced from student to student. She thought about Mrs. Fenton in the lab, throwing her weight around as effortlessly as her husband while they tried to find a solution to the town invasion but still checking in on the kids to ease any building worry. She even thought about Sam and how for all her edge and venom, she was one of the most protective people Valerie had met in her long fifteen years of life.

Reflecting in grief, Valerie pictured the three of them -Danny, Tucker, and Sam- all, laughing at a booth in the Nasty Burger while she worked the counter, eavesdropping and silently wishing she had even been that close to any of her friends when she was still on top of the world. A small part of her took that thought and ran with it, wondering if there would be flowers for her too if she had met a similar fate.

Fortunately/unfortunately, she didn't have too much time to continue her morbid march down memory lane before she noticed the figure standing in the center of the destruction. He hadn’t been there when she looked up before, and given the way he shimmered in the rain, Valerie knew it wasn’t human either. Racing from the protections of her father’s umbrella, she brandished her weapon and prepared to get an answer from a dead man.

—------------------------

Danny heard the rifle charge up before he noticed anything else. A roar like a car wash vacuum cleaner starting came from behind him, the telltale sign of a weapon specifically designed to hurt things like him. 

“Put your hands up.”

It was a command nearly drowned out by the shaking in Valerie’s voice, her confidence buried under rain and rage. The roar grew closer. As did she.

“I said put your fucking hands up!”

Danny obliged her this time, raising his arms and opening his palms to show his hands were empty. She couldn’t see the smile on his face, she thought she was in control here, that she had any kind of upper hand in the current situation. Cute.

“Turn around… I want you to look at me, Phantom.”

This is where his fun began.

—-------------------------------

This is where her nightmare began. 

Rather than turning his body around to face her, Valerie heard a sound like expanding plastic, a hollow mockery of what something inhuman would imagine bones bending and breaking to sound like. Watching in horror, she saw Phantom twist his head completely around, the skin of his neck binding and piling into coils as he locked eyes with her, his hand still raised as per her previous demands. Something was wrong, and she could see that very clearly now. 

Because of their previous encounters, Valerie had gotten a pretty solid mental image of Danny Phantom, and while the thing in front of her checked a few of those boxes, it was undeniably wrong in others. Starting with the eyes, whereas he used to have eyes the color of irradiated emeralds, he was now sporting red pools of malice, windows into a place far too gone to even be called a soul. His face had warped too. Gone were the cute cherubish features she had secretly appreciated, replaced instead by sunken skin with a sickly green hue and faint red veins branching out from his eyes. Taking a step back, she noticed that the rain wasn’t even touching him, not really. Instead it was boiling and steaming as it came into contact with his hair, a roiling platinum mess of fire burning from his scalp. Valerie knew that ghosts could look bad, but this was a new level. This was bad. 

“Wha-” she began, he finger slightly easing off the trigger in pure horror, “what happened.”

Moving his still rotated head from side to side in further disregard for human anatomy, he smiled at her, enlarged fangs visible for the first time in his mouth. Before she could react further, he was in front of her, a smooth motion the force of which broke through the rain and pushed her back into the wall that was her father. Damon’s stationary mass wasn’t enough to stop their momentum though, the combination of the shockwave and the rain slicked ground sending them sliding against one of the Nasty Burger’s few remaining structures. This was definitely new.

Normally when Phantom fought, there was a floatiness to him that was equal parts whimsical… and annoying. This though, he was too grounded, almost as if he were being defiant and grinding his foot into the earth out of a single-minded hatred, determined to mar the surface of reality in any way he could. He was also laughing too much, enjoying her fear and disorientation in a way that Valerie had never seen in him before. Weapon or not, she felt terrified just being near him anymore.

“Well,” he finally said, hands glowing and sizzling as he towered over the two of them, “I’m looking, Valerie, but I can’t say I'm impressed with anything I’m-”

—------------------

Danny stopped mid taunt as the rain around Valerie and Damon began to shimmer against the outlines of a group of people. He’d been having this issue for days now, avoiding reflective surfaces as much as possible. for this exact reason. Recoiling slightly when one of the mist figures reached out to him, he snarled and hissed as they surrounded him. He recognized their faces of course; his mother and father, his sister, his friends… but they weren’t real, they couldn’t be real, he reasoned, growing more angry and unstable as the images flickered around him.

He watched their faces shift between pity and sadness as they stood between him and Valerie, his eyes flickering between red and green faster than a human eye could see. The whispers had started now, he was hearing their voices in the rainfall that gave them form. His mother offering a seat for him amongst the rubble, his sister telling him it wasn’t too late to turn back, his father standing with open arms as if that could make it all go away like he was still some simple child. There was another figure in the rain, too, a hooded figure holding a staff that seemed to stay at the edge of his vision, he seemed more real than the others, something that infuriated Danny even further. He was grabbing his head now in frustration, fingers burning themselves in the hearth of agony as Valerie and her father watched on in horror, feeling as though time was slowing down as he broke into a screaming fit in front of them.

“Killed you all,” he murmured, pushing through the rain specters to step closer to Valerie and Damon, hands crackling with energy  “again and again and again… long as it takes… killed you all.”

—----------------------

Valerie didn’t understand what was going on, but she didn’t care anymore, she’d heard enough.

Killed them all.

She squared herself to take the shot while Phantom was battling whatever demons had finally caught up to him, confident that she could finally give this town and herself some closure. Unfortunately for her, Danny had regained himself enough to deny her that. Waiting for her to take the shot, he opened  a hole in the side of his head she had aimed -moving the flesh and ectoplasm into an undulating portal like he had done so many times before- before shooting the gun out of her hands and lunging at her...In the space between them, a crack like thunder struck between the two of them, and suddenly Danny found himself on the ground, his scrawny frame pinned under the massive paternal presence of Damon Gray wearing a modified version of the Fenton gauntlets.

“Valerie,” he barked, snapping his daughter out of the shock of such a close call, “go!”

Before she could respond in either way, Danny sunk his fingers into the flesh of Damon’s  left arm, a roar of pain echoing the explosion that set all of this off. Glowing red eyes bored into his own the elder Gray felt the ground began to soften and bits of rubble sunk into the concrete. 

“Sorry, Mr. Gray,” Danny sneered, his own body now halfway sunk into the portal he’d just begun to open, “if you wanna teach me a lesson then you’ll need to be a bit more hands. On!”

Sadistically digging in further and eliciting another scream of pain, Danny didn’t notice that Valerie had picked up the gun again. With the sound of a rotting watermelon slamming into the pavement, the two separated in a cloud of dark red mist and luminescent green slime, with Damon falling back out of Danny’s area of effect and Danny holding up his freshly destroyed hands in a pantomime of clapping; laughing with maniacal glee while he finally sunk all the way into his portal with a smile.

Scrambling to reach her father in the downpour, Valerie looked at the mess around her and began to sob, careful not to touch the bleeding stump of his arm as she hugged him until she felt herself stop shaking. Relying on each other for support, the two of them stood and began to make their way to the car, more on edge than ever before and flinching at every noise they couldn’t find a source for. Helping her father into the passenger seat -his arm now freshly tourniqueted with the shirt he was wearing- Valerie took one last look at the Nasty Burger before wiping the remaining tears from her eyes and sliding herself in the driver’s seat.

“I always fucking hated this place.”

#danny phantom #valerie gray #damon gray #dark danny #phanfic #raveyardfanfics #there's just so much to explore in the ultimate enemy timeline #also so much to explore with Valerie #so like yeah apple pie and ice cream baby hope you got a sweet tooth #also this a very not sweet fic just a heads up!! #also just know every #body horror

[theoldaeroplane]

jouwnaling

had a really, really nice day yesterday, was just in a lovely mood all day. I think it may have been related to the fact I did not get high the night before, so I'm going to try to test that theory and dial my usage down. I really enjoy weed and think it has a lot of benefits, especially for neurodivergent folk, but I'm recognizing that I used it as a way to cope with my situations last year. I'd like to wean myself off it a bit and be more present now that my life is starting to not suck. Still gonna keep it around for fun and really bad ruminating though. Weed makes it so much easier for me to hang out with people in person for a long time, and to go into overstimulating spaces.

Been having tons of fun rotating my version of Link in my brain for Antebellum (the WIP name of my LoZ fic). He has so many problems. He is a dumb motherfucker. I'm also consciously putting a lot of things I've been struggling with into this story, both to process them for myself and to give the fic, you know, that extra layer of authenticity, relatability? It's nice, I'm excited to be excited again. I'm gonna fuck up that elf boy so bad.

Had my second yoga class last night, it was nice. I'm not sure if I can afford to keep going but I'm going to try to. In a way it feels silly to pay for something I could technically do for free at home with a YouTube video, but I think the atmosphere makes a significant enough difference to be worth paying for.

Finally made a vet appointment for the dog. She needs her shots and I can't put off the fact she needs dental surgery any longer.

I really, really need to reopen commissions, but I still feel burned out on art. I'm trying to make some adoptables and YCHs as a middle ground. Haven't had a lot of success there yet. That said, I've been putting a lot of my energy into cleaning up my house and taking care of myself. The house is coming along really well, and hopefully soon I'll have it leveled out enough to make it a nicer space for my creative endeavors.

I applied for another job this week, one totally out of my field and experience: house cleaning. It's not something I'd ever considered, but I found the listing by chance and it occurred to me that a job where I just clean and listen to podcasts sounds like heaven. Especially for my autistic ass. No constant stream of customers. No dress shirts. No repeatedly explaining terms and price sheets. Just show up and clean. I'm sure such a job has its own frustrations (hard on the body, exceptionally gross houses, telling people when something is not in my job description, driving a lot), but, like. My current job---while I genuinely like a lot of the work, and I really love my boss and coworkers---the customer service aspect is killing me, the dress code brings back bad memories, and even though I'm working full time (over full time, even, I'm there 8:30-5 because I take a thirty minute lunch break) I'm not making enough to fully support myself. I keep getting sent home early because there's nothing for me to do, and my boss is only a regional manager and has been very forthcoming with the fact I am already at the absolute highest end of the payscale for my position without taking on more responsibilities.

The fact that I can be working full time and still have to rely on a side hustle, and even THEN can't put anything aside for savings, is awful. I can't do more hours, I can't take on more responsibilities, and I can't get a second job. Any of those things would seriously compromise my mental health and I have to take care of myself. I've always dreaded it when I'm asked to take on more responsibilities at my jobs. I don't want advancement, I don't want to manage anyone (I can barely manage myself!), I don't give a shit what my title is. I want to do my work really well, get paid, and go home.

And the cleaning job, at the absolute lowest end, still pays about 5k more per year than my current position.

So, currently, yeah, housecleaning sounds like a dream job. Show up. Clean. Leave. Repeat. The company in question also has glowing employee reviews on Glassdoor, with the worst things being "could pay better" and "sometimes there's favoritism." I don't have any qualms about """being a maid""" on like a social level or whatever. I like the idea that I would be making a tangible difference for individuals, instead of printing out hundreds of advertising mailers that are going to go directly into the trash. I finding cleaning very satisfying. I like the idea of not sitting around bored because there's no customers and nothing to do and I'm not allowed to have my phone out, and then getting sent home early so I miss out on half my pay for that day. And so much less masking! My god! It sounds like paradise!

The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence, but sometimes that's because it really is better grass.

So. Hoping to hear back about that soon. I filled out a questionnaire thing for them yesterday that seemed like it was basically checking to see if I was a narcissistic sociopath or not. I have a weekend without any Special Events happening for the first time in like a month, just my tabletop games and my volunteer work. My clothes and bedding are all washed, I got most of the dog piss smell out of the carpet from when I was too exhausted to take her out often enough, and I cut my hair. I have a writing project again. I've been making new friends and reconnecting with old ones. I adore going out to the barn every saturday. My therapist says I'm doing really, really well. Everything's coming up Corgi, for now. Fingers crossed :)

[boba-beom]

ahhh thank you so much, that really means a lot🥺 i hope i have a safe flight too, weather's been a little crazy over here, but hopefully it'll all clear out by next week❤️

oooh, i didn't know you do yoga, that's so cool! i don't think i've ever tried yoga personally, is it fun? aww no, i'm sorry, period pains suck so much. i hope you feel better soon🥺❤️ well yk whether it be a few days before or during your period, your body needs to rest, because it's working extra hard❤️ the title does sound really interesting, i might add it to my tbr - let me know your thoughts on it once you're finished. i was reading 2 books, but i've put them on hold for now. the first one is The Girl in Red by Christina Henry and the second one is Notes on a Nervous Planet by Matt Haig. the girl in red is a retelling of little red riding hood set in an apocalyptic world where there's this airborne disease that destroys most of the population. while the second book is a non-fiction one that talks about several aspects of the modern world and just how easily they can overwhelm us and cause anxiety within us. the author also shares some of his own experiences, which i find pretty cool.

the 2D1N series is so memorable to me. i just love how they were joking and laughing around with the boys as well as fangirling over them🥺

mine too omg the amount of times i've rewatched that performance and when they all also covered yeonjun's artist of the month WOW, that really did something to me. HE'S JUST SO FINE. finest man alive honestly.

hype boy is such a great song and the dance was just *chef's kiss*, but my favorite would have to be attention hehe. i also really like omg and ditto, they're both so good.

whenever i read something, it stays with me and i can't help but associate things to it. for example whenever i listen to jump the line i think back to your yeonjun drabble where mc was in the kitchen alone at night and he found her moving to that song🥺 but omg, don't worry about it!! it's completely fine, i know writing isn't an easy process and it can take time, besides there are so many things that can get in the way of it such as life. so please take your time and i'll patiently be waiting for future updates hehe <3

beomgyu of the day

so sorry for this late reply!! but i hope the weather hasn't been too bad for you, dear. hopefully the flight will go smoothly <3

it was actually my first time trying out yoga! i loved it! the instructor was so kind and everyone at the session was so friendly, there were a few who went before but there were also a few who were new to it so i felt like i eased into it nicely! the yoga itself was new, i think i prefer yoga that high intensity workouts!!

i shall note those book recommendations down, however, the girl in red sounds very familiar to me so unless i've come across it before or heard of it by passing, i'll give those a read 🤭

PLS you just mentioning yeonjun's artist of the month performance reminded me how hard i was manifesting a beomgyu artist of the month :< i love his dance style especially when it comes to hip-hop songs like that one predebut vid. but i also think beomgyu dancing something like this also needs to be a thing!! it suits his vibes a lot :') OMG wait even the choreo for rollercoaster, something about that beomgyu hit different

also good song choices!! i feel like there's no miss with newjeans, for me personally. i just love the nostalgic vibes they give, very much y2k

you and i are so alike!! i love reading fics with songs accompanied with it because those tend to stick to me better, but also giving off those specific vibes :') literally appreciate how supportive you've been with me, thank you so much :>

#ᥫ᭡ : asks. #[ 🧸 ] — mutuals. #april ♡ #aprilisque ♡

[autumnhares]

I had an excess of vacation days this summer, so I've been taking Fridays off since June. This week will be the first full week back to a five day week, thanks to Labour Day. I am...nervous? I'll need to find ways not to get burnt out. It was nice having an extra day to get my car fixed, or have a writing party with my writing friends, or just play video games.

Speaking of video games. Made it to the second act. Failed to save Isobel, so yeah. All the teiflings I like are dead. That sucks. Astarion is still not sure of me, and Shadowheart...well Vedali rejected her. Hard making friends in this game. Feels bad. But my drow is a Selunite, and I think I've been playing her wrong since finding out Shadowheart is a Sharran.

But I succeeded in helping Halsin with his problems, and we've been flirty for a while. I have hope that my Tav will find love. Maybe. Unless I screw that up too.

And I have been writing! Every evening this week. Finished another chapter. I'm probably half way through this draft. Kept very little of what I'd already written. I'm hoping to be done at the end of this month though.

Still have to figure out the title.

#baldur's gate 3 #writing