#(( BLOOD IS GOING TO SPILL TONIGHT SO HELP ME - ))

[bunnylovesani]

A Marriage Story

Summary: You met your husband Spencer at college and fell in love at first sight. A decade later, he’s struggling to be the man you need after spending months away in prison. Can you find your way back to each other even when outside influences want to keep you apart?

Content warnings: smut, fluff and angst all rolled into one, rough sex, oral sex, degradation, sub/dom dynamics, references to infidelity and divorce

WC: 10.7k

“Can’t sleep?” You peered into the living room to see your husband slouched across the sofa, sporting a stiff, groggy expression as he examined what looked to be a pine-green leatherbound book.

“It would appear that way, wouldn’t it?” He mumbled in response, barely looking up. Spencer was snarky by nature- it was something you’d grown accustomed to and even found endearing- but you were woefully unprepared for just how much would change following his stint in prison. 

“You can barely read in here, it’s so dark.” You grumbled as you stretched to turn on an orange light posted in the corner. Your fingertips brushed past the bobbly canvas of the lampshade as you recalled how the appliance was a wedding gift. You weren’t exactly sure who bestowed it to you but the memory made you a little misty-eyed. 

“And you don’t have your glasses either.” You muttered under your breath as you readily paced to your bedroom down the hall to retrieve his black-rimmed specs. “Here you go.” You extended your arm out, waiting for him to take them out of your grasp but he paid no notice. 

“Spence.” You nudged him but he just shook his head wordlessly and retreated into his pages even more, squinting profusely. Perching beside him, you tucked his unruly waves out of his face and nestled them behind his ear before carefully sliding on his glasses, letting them rest on the delicate bridge of his nose. 

“Thanks.” He whispered after a while and you tried your best not to sigh at the state of your husband. His under eyes throbbed purple, the darkness consuming them in a veiny, crescent spill. There was no avoiding the way Spencer’s eyes had gradually dullened, as if the light had drained from them entirely. 

“It’s 3 in the morning, my love. Clearly that stiff sofa isn’t doing you any favours, why don’t you try sleeping in our bed tonight?” You hummed, nervously pawing at his forearm in anticipation of his answer. 

“Not tonight.” He dismissed, shaking off your hand as he recoiled from you. 

“You always said that sleeping with me put your mind to rest. Let me scoop you up into my arms and I’ll bet those nightmares will ease right up.” You nuzzled into him playfully, badly craving that now unfamiliar warmth. It had been 3 months since Spencer returned home from jail and another 3 since you’d even slept in the same room. 

“That was back then.” He replied coldly, swallowing a lump in his throat before finally looking up to meet your gaze. “The sofa is just fine now.” 

“So you plan on spending the rest of our marriage sleeping in here, do you?” You laughed in disbelief, overwhelmed by the incredible misfortune that had struck your husband- and by cursed extension, you.

“I didn’t say that.” He ripped off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose with tired frustration. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“I have been more than understanding.” You observed the broken man hunched over before you with both pity and unbridled anger. “But my lenience has a limit. At some point, you have to get over it.”

“You don’t know what I’ve been through.” He snapped back, almost interrupting. 

“Because you won’t tell me.” You countered, blood pressure rising over his incredulous obstinance. “How am I supposed to help you if you don’t let me?”

“I don’t need your help.” He scoffed, shuffling back as if the slightest contact with you made his skin crawl. 

“I am your wife.” You uttered solemnly, the words beginning to sound foreign to you both. “Or have you forgotten?”

“How could I? You never leave me alone.” He stated carelessly with such absurd cruelty that it made your heart split in two. 

“Who are you? I don’t even recognise you anymore.” Your voice trembled as tears swelled and you willed yourself not to fall apart entirely right then and there. 

“I don’t recognise myself either.” He murmured inaudibly.

Awkwardly plumping the pillows you had flattened as you rose, you straightened out your cotton nightie and headed towards the solitary bedroom, leaving Spencer glaring shamefully at the floor. 

“Do you remember our wedding day?” You whispered into the doorway, unsure whether he would even hear. 

“Of course I do.” He sighed heavily, as if the memory hurt him and he wasn’t too grateful for the reminder. 

Realising that those were the only words you’d be able to coax out of him tonight, you proceeded down the corridor and slumped into bed defeatedly. The right side of the bed was always kept empty, partly out of habit and partly out of hope that he might, by some miracle, change his mind one of these nights and join you. A particular quote that your husband once read aloud from a Nietzsche book sprang to mind: “In reality, hope is the worst of all evils, because it prolongs the torments of man.” He had laughed it off as the words left his perfect lips, dismissing the mournful proclamation as pessimistic melodrama- but now you wondered whether the boy genius had, for once, been wrong. Clutching a rumpled old pillow close to your chest, you thought back to better days as your melancholy lulled you to sleep. 

“Spencer, you’re so annoying.” You playfully slapped his forearm once you caught sight of the little drawings he was leaving in your notebook. “This journal is for my notes, not your mediocre art. Is that one meant to be me?” You pointed at the silly stickman with long hair and a speech bubble declaring ‘I love Spencer’. 

“Well you’re obviously not the ruggedly handsome one.” He gestured at the nerdy-looking bespectacled caricature of himself. It was evident he didn’t have the highest self regard but you couldn’t figure out why- to you, there was no one more perfect. “Do you write about me in your little diary?” He glided the pages out of your reach and began flicking through their contents with a sneer. Knowing exactly what he would find, you allowed him to skim through your written confession as you witnessed his expression soften. 

“I met a guy today in my criminology class.” He muttered, reading an early entry aloud. “I hardly know anything about him, but I’m already certain I want to spend the rest of my life with him. Is that crazy? To love a complete stranger? I think I would let him drive me into the furthest depths of insanity if it meant I could hold onto a piece of him forever.” 

You blushed hearing your own words spilling from his lips, recalling the day you met on your first day of college. 

“Wait.” Spencer put your notebook down before frantically rummaging through his backpack to retrieve his own. Yanking out a pine-green leatherbound journal, he flitted through its pages before turning it around and sliding it across the library desk. “Read this here.” He tapped a passage located right around the middle with an impatient forefinger. 

“Okay…” You drawled hesitantly, sliding your textbooks out of the way to focus on the script put before you. “I met a girl today. That doesn’t really happen to me. Liking aforementioned girl is even more of a rarity but today, I feel like I’ve been struck by lightning. There I was, my nose deep in a second edition tome of Fundamentals of Research in Criminal Justice when someone who could only be described as a blinding ray of sunshine bounded into the lecture hall. When she took a seat in the back row beside me and made a deliciously snide comment over Garland’s incompetency in examining the Lombrosian Project, I knew I was a goner. Note to self: do further research on what it means to be ‘in love’.” 

“Yours was a little more romantic.” He chuckled, observing the incredulous look on your face. 

“Spence…” You shook your head as you grabbed his hand and tried unsuccessfully to convey the complexity of your feelings. “I- I don’t know what to say.” 

“I love you.” He said simply, like he had many times before but you never grew tired of hearing it. 

“I love you too.” You grinned, resisting the urge to kiss him and give surrounding students in the stuffy library a show. 

“Can I ask you something crazy? But promise not to think about it too much.” He chewed on his bottom lip with an almost crazed look in his eyes. 

“You can’t surprise me anymore.” You nodded, giggling. 

“Do you want to get married?” The question made you break out into a flurry of goosebumps, contradicting your last sentence entirely. 

“W-what?” You raised your eyebrows, listening intently for a sign that he was just teasing. 

“Right now. Lets go somewhere and get married.” You scanned his handsome face in shock as you realised he was being serious. 

“B-but we’re only 22. We’re so young.” 

“Yes, we are.” He calmly responded, allowing you to run through all your doubts.

“A-and we still haven’t graduated.” 

“No, we haven’t.” He shook his head.

“And oh, our parents would be so mad!”

“They very well might be. Marry me anyway.” He flashed a broad, toothy smile and the way it made your heart stop gave you the only indication you needed. 

“Okay.” You smiled. 

“Okay?!” He repeated in surprise.

“Okay. I’ll marry you.” 

Spencer shot out of his seat, lifting you up with him as he grabbed you by the face, planting excitable kisses over your lips and cheeks. 

“Don’t we need to make appointments for this kind of thing?” You squeaked out between kisses, the logistical cogs in your mind whirring. 

“Well, baby.” He paused, gazing into your eyes with a mischevious twinkle. “It’s a good thing we live in Vegas.” 

Grabbing each other’s hand with a fervour you thought would last forever, you headed straight to a walk-in chapel, where along with two drunken witnesses you dragged off the street and a pair of vending machine wedding bands, you officiated your love. The haughtily dressed minister, who resembled a cowboy more than a government official thanks to his white, studded getup- took several takes before agreeing to ordain the ceremony. “Crazy kids…” he muttered under his breath when you managed to persuade him, ushering you down the altar with a disapproving sigh.

Spencer marvelled at how you could look so beautiful in a cheap, rented veil and he vowed that day that he would never dare take you for granted. He would make damn sure to remember just how blessed he was, no matter what life threw at him. 

He remained true to his word for the most part, proceeding to spend the next decade or so faithfully by your side. As in most areas of his life, Spencer excelled at being a husband. After his first substantial promotion, he knew exactly what to spend all his savings on: he made a beeline to Tiffany’s for a long overdue engagement ring, surprising you with the small robin’s-egg-blue box on a random Tuesday night. You loved it, of course, and gushed over the lavish diamond, proudly flashing it to anyone who would let you- though you kept your tarnished old band on your bedside table and observed it with nostalgic fondness. 

Every promise Spencer made, Spencer kept. From the silly details down to the crux of your marriage, he was unfalteringly respectful, supportive and always appreciative. 

You certainly weren’t too shabby playing the part of his wife either. Dinner was always on the table, the house was always spick and span and you had no shortage of tight outfits to greet him home dressed up in. You hadn’t ever anticipated your role in life would be that of a housewife but Spencer made it easy- and if you had to be one, a loving, handsome genius was the man for the job. You figured you could do worse.

When the company you worked for years ago filed for bankruptcy and you were too burnt out to look elsewhere, your husband was more than happy to assume his new position as the breadwinner. 

While the thought of relying on a man used to inundate you with horror, this particular man was like something out of a movie- for him, you made every exception, choosing a life of domestic bliss in suburbia over the dreams you once had. You weren’t the most fulfilled woman in the world but you’d never had serious concerns- until this year. It wasn’t Spencer’s habit of overprioritising work, nor his stretch in prison- it wasn’t even the thousand yard stare that painted his face at all hours of the day following his release. 

It was the arrival of the sudden and unprecedented thought that he might actually leave you. 

As many fights as you’d had over the years, the possibility that Spencer may not be the man you spend the rest of your life with had never once crossed your mind- you had it ticked off as a definite and planned your life accordingly around that simple fact. You thought you had agreed that nothing could ever tear you apart. 

But now; the way he recoiled when you came near him and the disdain that dripped from his voice when he spoke to you had you reconsidering whether the man you knew would ever make a return. 

It was your biggest fear and everything your mother had warned you about; her nauseating words gnawed at you as you remembered how staunchly she opposed your impromptu decision to get married. She never really accepted Spencer- choosing instead to graciously tolerate him as a favour to you, but neither of you were under any illusions as to what her real thoughts on the matter were. 

“There you are, I was beginning to think you stood me up.” The lofty voice of your mother rang out and the air sharply shifted around her. 

“Sorry, mother. I- uh, woke up a little late. Got caught in the midday traffic.” You sniffled, trying your utmost to be subtle over the fact you’d spent all morning weeping pathetically in bed.

“Yes, I suppose that’s something you can afford being unemployed and childless.” She scoffed, suspiciously eyeing up your puffy face. “Though I suspect traffic isn’t to blame on this particular occasion.” 

“Of course it is.” You dismissed, taking a seat before her at the garden restaurant you had agreed to meet for lunch in. It was a little too snooty for your taste, but then so was she. 

Burying your face in the menu before she had the chance to inspect your somewhat ragged appearance further, you tried to ignore her heavy sighing. 

“I worry about you, you know.” She lowered your menu with a pristinely manicured finger. 

“Oh trust me, I know.” You rolled your eyes and snatched the menu back, eyeing up the scandalously named cocktails and wondering how many you could get away with ordering. 

“I’m being serious. Your whole life revolves around him. And he’s a mess. You know what that makes you?” She reached into her handbag and fished for a compact mirror.

“Please, enlighten me.” You groaned as she checked her mauve lipstick. 

“A mess by extension.” She haughtily added, snapping the mirror closed with a snappy click. “And it’s my job as your mother to set you straight.”

“Lucky me.” You muttered, disinterested. 

“Listen to me, young lady. I don’t care how old you get or how much you think you know, I know better. You need to come back down to Earth and realise that your marriage is failing.” She snakes her hand across the table and places it on top of your own. “Prison changes a man. He’s not the Spencer you once knew.”

“You think I don’t know that?” You retorted stroppily. “I know he’s changed but that doesn’t mean we’re going to- we’re not getting a- you know…”

“Divorce?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, that.” You shrugged. 

“It fills me with deep concern that you can’t even say the word. How are you going to function when he leaves you?”

“Mother!” You gasped. 

“Oh, if and when, same thing.” She waved a hand in the air dismissively, her nimble pearl bracelets clinking against one another. “My point is, darling, you must accept that there’s a…significant possibility your life will change. You need to be ready for it.” 

“No.” You shook your head, refusing to let her words sink in. “Spence wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t leave me.”

“Oh?” She finally removed her sunglasses and you caught sight of the genuine concern in her steely eyes. “What did he say to you before you left this morning?” 

Your eyes shot to the floor as you remembered how he’d elected to go to work early, leaving the house without a farewell as was his routine these days. Seeing the anxiety and shame written all over your face, your mother sighed yet again. 

“Men in these situations often seek comfort in others.” She softened her tone but not her words. “You’re too close to the situation to make him feel better about it. You know too much.” 

“What are you trying to say?” You squinted. 

“He needs to feel like a man right now. And you can’t give him that.” She innocently sipped from the paper straw floating in her lemon water. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You dismissed her, the thought of Spencer cheating inconceivable. 

“Look out for the signs. If he’s working late too often, if he has secretive phone calls…” She trailed off. “It can’t hurt to pay attention.” 

Although you tried not to let them, her words had a nagging way of worming themselves into your brain and never coming back out. 

Later that evening, you returned to the empty confines of your house and spent several hours anxiously flitting your eyes to the clock on the wall. He should’ve been home early today. 

“Spence, is that you?” You called out once you heard the faint clicking of the door unlocking. The slow thudding of his heavy footsteps was heard before he entered your bedroom, looking very weary and sporting even more stubble than usual. 

“Who else would it be?” He asked with a shadow of a smile. Offering no explanation, he peeled off his blazer and loosened his tie as he perched on the edge of the bed. 

“Must be a really tough case you’re working on with the amount of overtime shifts you’ve been putting in.” You cleared your throat.

“It’s, uh, it’s been a tricky one. Yeah.” A deafening silence followed his obscure reply.

“Did you give any more thought to taking time off work?” You continued, yearning to wrap your arms around him but resisting. 

“No. I mean, yes I did, but I don’t want any time off. It wouldn’t help, I can hardly stand being at home.” You gulped at the hurtful connotation and he turned around to face you. “No, I didn’t mean like that. Not because of you. You know what I’m trying to say.” 

“Not sure I do.” You muttered under your breath. 

“I’m sorry. I’m a mess.” He dropped his head into his hands and took a deep, stabilising breath. “I just need time.”

“Of course, Spence, I understand that. It’s only that- well,  i-it’s been 6 months. 6 months of me doting on you and letting you get away with acting and speaking to me however you like. At what point does it end?” Your words had a desperate tinge to them. “I need some kind of indication.”

“I can’t tell you the exact time and date that I will forget everything that happened to me.” He stood up with a huff and you knew you’d touched a nerve.

“Don’t get defensive, I’m just trying to talk to you.” You got up and stood beside him, laying a flat palm to his chest. “To get through to you somehow, anyhow.” 

You could feel his warm, unsteady breath on your skin as he scrunched his eyes shut, wanting to be anywhere but here. 

“Why can’t you talk to me? You used to be able to tell me everything.” Your voice cracked as you rubbed your thumb across his cheek pleadingly. 

“I can’t give you what you want. Not right now.” He gently lowered your hand and stared into your eyes apologetically. 

“We haven’t made love in so long.” You murmured hesitantly and he shot you an irksome look. You hated to bring it up but the pain of his rejection was getting too much to bear- you had to let him know how badly you needed him.

“Is that why you’ve been on my case so much lately?” He raised an unimpressed eyebrow. 

“No, of course not.” You sighed. “Not the only reason, at least.” 

“Sorry, baby. I’ve been too busy dealing with major trauma to factor in your sex drive.” He quipped sarcastically. 

“That’s not fair, Spencer.” You had anticipated such a response but your heart dropped anyway when you heard it. “It’s not just about that and you know it. I just miss my husband- all of him.”

“Things change.” He mumbled. 

“Well, will they ever change back?” You snapped a little. “Tell me right now, can I get my husband back? Matter of fact, do you even want to come back?” 

Your eyes betrayed you with a steady stream of tears pouring down your reddened cheeks. 

“Do you still want me?” Your voice quivered, praying he wouldn’t take this opportunity to shatter you completely. 

“Yes. I do.” He answered simply though there was an air of conflict about him. “I’ve loved being your husband. I just, I- not now. I just can’t. I can’t do it.” 

He shook his head and paced out to the hall, shutting the living room door loudly once he was safely inside. 

Your blood began to boil. All the grace and understanding you’d shown him this year and he couldn’t even finish a conversation without running away like a coward. 

“You bastard. Come back here right now, Reid.” You barked out, running after him. “Or so help me God-.” 

“You’ll do what?” He opened up, lean figure resting against the door frame. ”You gonna kill me, honey?” 

“I just might!” You shrieked frustratedly. “I’m so unbelievably sick of you doing nothing but sulking and feeling sorry for yourself. Enough is enough. Wake up and smell the fucking flowers!” You crossed your arms, exasperated and a small smirk spread across his handsome face. “You’re smiling.” 

“Such good attention to detail. This is exactly why I married you.” He winked and you slapped his arm a little too forcefully. “Yes, I’m smiling. You’re adorable when you’re bratty.”

“If being at my wits end with you means being a brat then yes, I’m the biggest brat in the world!” You started bawling- you knew it was irrational but you were too sensitive and overwhelmed with emotion to let his teasing slide.

“I know, I know. It’s okay, shh.” He pulled you in close, pressing your delicate head against his chest. “Come on, my love. You know I can’t stand seeing you cry.” 

“How come you’ve been letting me do it every night, then?” You whimpered, pitiful words swallowed by the fabric of his white work shirt.

“I didn’t think it was that bad.” He looked down at you, a noxious blend of guilt and sympathy flickering in his tired eyes. “I-I thought you understood.” 

“Understood what?” You let out a muffled murmur as you drew in his heady scent, the musky cologne combined with his sweat soothing your overwrought senses. 

“That even though I’m in a dark place-” He lowered his face until you felt his hot breath against your flushed cheeks. “It doesn’t, for a single second, mean that I don’t love you.” 

“Really?” You gazed up at him lamentably. “It was starting to feel that way, li-like nothing I did was good enough.” 

“I’m sorry.” He almost winced, his regret tangible in how tightly he held you. “It’s not you, you’re perfect. You’ve been patient and understanding and I’ve completely put our marriage on the back burner….there’s no excuse.” He fell back into the sofa, pulling you down into his lap as he gently spoke.

“God it was just the weight of it all- the weight of how long it was taking me to shake it off. The longer it took, the more I felt like a failure and I couldn’t stand coming home to you every night and disappointing you. Seeing the unfalteringly hopeful look on your face and knowing it’d be wiped off after one conversation with me…I started avoiding you.”

“Spence…” You wilted like a flower at his confession.

“But that was selfish, I know that.” He took your face in his hands and professed earnestly. “I can’t apologise enough, my love.” 

“Where’s this coming from all of a sudden?” Your heart leapt as your husband’s familiar warmth flooded you- and while you were grateful to get a glimpse of the old Spencer, you were also confused by the abrupt shift in his demeanour- if not suspicious. 

“Honestly? You getting pissed off flipped a switch in me.” He looked just as puzzled as you at the admission. “All this time you haven’t gotten mad once- even when you’re upset, you’re always sweet. I guess it took you acting out of character to make me see just how badly I’ve been treating you. You brought me to my senses by threatening me.” 

“And I’ll make good on that threat if you keep shutting me out.” You wagged a finger at him and he chuckled, clasping your hand and planting a soft kiss over it. 

“If I ever talk to you like that again, you have my full permission to kill me.” 

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” You scowled at him playfully and he patted your damp cheeks with the sleeve of his shirt, drying the remnants of your tears. 

“I was reading my journal from our college days last night.” He admitted as you soaked up how good it felt to be in his arms again. 

“I knew that dusty old green thing looked familiar!” You bit your lip to contain the smile about to burst through. “Why were you looking through that?” 

“I needed a reminder of what kind of man I vowed to be. To stay true to that little nerd who couldn’t believe his luck when he got to marry you.” He pressed his forehead against yours as he filled your head with words you’d spent the last 6 months dreaming about. “If you’ll have me, I’d love to sleep in our bed again tonight.”

“You mean it, Spence? You really don’t have to if you don’t-“

“No, I really do. You’re my home, baby. And I’ve been away from home for too long.” He pulled you in closer until his lips gently met yours, kissing you so sweetly you thought you might melt. 

“God, I missed you.” You whispered as a shudder ran down your spine, his touch proving to be too much after you’d spent so long deprived. 

“I missed you more. I promise I’ll make it up to you. For all my mistakes.” He cooed but you weren’t even paying attention, all your focus centred on the dizzying way his large palm stroked your back. 

“Come on, let’s get you into bed.” He whispered, nudging his shoulder against your own. 

“Mhm…” You moaned lazily, allowing him to drag you up and guide you into the comfort of your bedroom, which instantly seemed more welcoming now that you knew he was finally joining you. 

“There, all tucked in.” He beamed after stuffing the edges of the duvet beneath your languid body. “I just need to change and brush my teeth, I’ll be right in.” He kissed your forehead and sauntered over to the adjoining bathroom. 

Before you could surrender to sleep, you pawed clumsily at the nightstand in search of your phone, overcome with the urge to message your mother- you just had to let her know she was wrong. Composing a text to assure her your marriage was no longer in danger, you sent it through with a satisfied sigh. Unexpectedly, the screen lit up not a moment after you’d put it down, accompanied by a quiet chirp that let you know she had sent one back. 

“Don’t let your guard down. Guilt is a powerful thing.” Her ominous words pulsed off the screen and left you feeling queasy. 

“Remember what I said. Look for the signs.” A second text flashed across the screen. 

You dropped the phone with a shaky clatter, as if your hands couldn’t wait to be rid of the thing. How could she remain insistent that Spencer had been cheating when he’d given next to no indication of it? You would’ve chalked it all down to her longstanding aversion to him and fallen into a peaceful slumber- if it wasn’t for the muttering you heard coming from the other side of the bathroom door. 

Like a jumpy cat, you raised yourself against the headboard at once and listened with bated breath. Struggling to make out a complete sentence as the running water smothered his words, you cautiously crept over to the door and ever so slightly pressed your ear against it. 

“I appreciate that but I can’t. We’ll have to reschedule.” Spencer’s muffled voice rang out, sounding slightly stressed. “No, I’m not thinking about leaving. I know I need you. Yes. Everything’s fine, I’m just not free tonight.” 

You let out an exasperated breath, in pure disbelief over what you’d overheard. Before you could gather your thoughts, the tap stopped running and you heard the sound of shuffling footsteps, prompting you to leap into bed and swathe yourself amongst the covers. 

“You asleep already, baby?” He whispered when he emerged from the bathroom, pressing his warm, pyjama-clad body flat against yours. You said nothing, remaining as still as a church mouse as he cosily nestled his face into the crook of your neck and dozed off. While your husband enjoyed the best sleep he’d had in the better part of a year, you spent the remainder of the night staring into the expanse of your dark ceiling, paralysed with fear. 

A Saturday morning was usually yours and Spencer’s favourite day of the week; it meant you could sleep in, have breakfast in bed and make love until noon all in glorious succession. This particular Saturday was markedly different- partly because Spencer had been called into work- and partly because you couldn’t go a second without driving yourself crazy thinking about his affair. 

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, Hotch is insisting he needs the whole team together.” Spencer rolled his eyes as he hopped around in a struggle to get his socks on. You sat up in bed and nodded complacently, not wanting to set off any alarm bells to your profiler husband. “Hey babe?” He asked, fiddling with his tie. 

“Hm?” You smiled innocuously. 

“How would you feel if you had to start working again?” He bit his lip and looked at you, full of intrigue. “Would you manage?”

“Umm, I-I don’t know.” You stuttered, caught off guard completely by his question. “Why do you ask?” 

“Didn’t you have dreams? Goals you wanted to accomplish?” He asked sincerely and a thinly veiled panic began to rise in you. 

“Sure, I guess. I didn’t plan on abandoning them but- I don’t know, life got in the way and other things took priority.” 

“Hm. Okay.” He looked absorbed in thought as he grabbed his blazer. “I’ve got to run- how about I meet you for dinner at that new steakhouse in town? We’ve got a lot of things to discuss.” 

“We do?” You gulped. 

“I know I do.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead as you desperately tried to read his body language. “See you later.” 

“Bye, honey.” You choked out as he breezed out the door, leaving you with bile rising up your throat. 

You hated to admit it, but your mother was right. 

“And-and then he told her he needed her!” You blubbed down the phone when you finally plucked up the courage to call her later that day. “And don’t you dare say you told me so!”

“I wasn’t going to say that.” Your mother retorted dishonestly. 

“But that’s not all- before he left this morning, he was asking me how I’d feel if I had to start working again!” You whined, your body racked with so much anxiety it made you nauseous. 

“He’s trying to gauge how you’d cope if you no longer had him to financially rely on.” She sighed knowingly. “He’s trying to subconsciously prepare you. It’s almost thoughtful- in his own strange, dysfunctional way. Typical Spencer.”

“You really think this is it? He’s done with me?” You sniffed, desperately hanging onto the last thread of hope. “This might just all be a big misunderstanding.”

“I don’t think so, sweetheart. I mean, the late nights, the phone call, the interrogation about your career. And the spontaneous apologetic outburst. It’s clear to see he’s bursting at the seams with guilt.” She tutted, feigning sympathy- but you knew she’d been waiting for Spencer to slip up for years. As much as it might have pained her to see her daughter like this, the satisfaction of knowing Spencer was almost out of her life outweighed the anguish. 

“So now what do I do?” You whinged, the last thread snapped. 

“You’re going to dress up in the tightest outfit you have, drive down to that restaurant and tell him you want a divorce.” She instructed with her signature self-assured candidness. 

“B-but I don’t want a divorce.” You mumbled meekly, acutely aware of how pitiable you sounded. 

“I’m afraid you don’t have much of a choice.” 

Her words resounded in your aching brain as you rummaged through your closet looking for an outfit that fit the brief, ultimately settling on a satin black mini dress- Spencer’s favourite. 

Driving to the restaurant rehearsing your parting words was nothing short of excruciating. You adored your husband just as much as you did the day you first met; spotting him in that lecture hall, shiny brown hair slicked back as he twiddled a pen between his spindly fingers and scrunched his eyebrows up in displeasure at the set text. It was like a bolt of lightning struck you- love at first sight. 

How did you get to the point of divorce? Your brain was racked with potential guesses as to where along the line you lost him. Were you not interesting enough? You wanted to get your career back on track but you assumed Spencer would prefer a stay-at-home wife. Is that where you went wrong? Perhaps some woman at work was more engaging, perhaps he had more mutual interests with her than his boring wife. 

Pulling into the parking lot, you braced yourself to head for the entrance and find your soon-to-be ex-husband. Who would get the car in the divorce? He paid for it so you supposed the courts would award it to him. 

“Oh God.” You muttered under your breath, head spinning as you waited inside for a hostess. If you went by that logic, you’d be left with nothing. 

“Do you have a reservation?” The young worker hobbled over breathlessly. 

“Uh- probably, under a Mr Reid.” You twiddled your thumbs as she searched her database.

“Oh, he’s already been seated, just down there.” She pointed in his direction and you saw the back of his head, luscious curls nestling around the base of his neck. You sighed, he was going to be a tough one to get over. 

“Baby, there you are.” He rose from his seat to plant a quick kiss on your cheek and as always, pull out your chair. Where were you going to find someone as gentlemanly as him? “Are you okay?” 

“Sure.” You managed a small smile though you were sure he saw right through it. 

“I’ve already ordered us some wine, they had that white zinfandel you like.” He said, pouring you a glass.

“Trying to get me drunk, Reid?” You swirled the liquid around, inhaling the sweet aroma. 

“From half a bottle?” He chuckled nervously, your mannerisms already causing suspicion. “No, I want you sober for tonight.” 

“That’s unkind.” You muttered unintelligibly, knocking back your glass in one go. 

“Woah, slow down.” He cautioned as you clinked your glass against the bottle, prompting him to hesitantly pour you another. 

“You sure everything’s okay?” 

“Yes, great. What did you need to talk to me about?” You braced yourself for impact. 

“Okay, well, I know it would be a big change but just hear me out. I think in the long run, it’d be better for you if-“

“Actually, no. Everything’s not okay.” You slurred, the alcohol already impairing your senses. 

“Oh? What’s the matter?” He asked anxiously, fidgeting with his wedding band. 

“I want a divorce.” You blurted out tastelessly.

“You- what?” Spencer’s eyes widened as he blinked rapidly. “A divorce?”

“You heard me.” You gulped, trying your hardest to be stern even though you were about to fall apart. “You’ve run out of chances with me.” 

“Baby, what? I-I know it’s been rocky but I thought we talked it through? You seemed just fine last night, I don’t understand.” He shook his head, eyebrows raised so high a painful-looking row of wrinkles stacked up on his forehead. 

“I thought we were fine too, but I was wrong.” You took another glug of liquid courage as you avoided eye contact, knowing you would cave if you took even one glance at his big, round eyes. 

“I know I don’t have much room to complain after what I’ve put you through but can’t we at least talk about it first?” He pleaded, heart jumping out of his chest. 

“What is there to talk about, Spencer? You couldn’t come to me so you closed yourself off and found comfort in another woman- God knows how long this has been going on while I’ve been here pining after you like an idiot-“

“What?” He raised his hand, signalling you to pause your rambling.

“Don’t play dumb, I know you’ve been cheating on me.” You scoffed, determined not to fall victim to his gaslighting. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” His mournful expression was replaced by one of bewilderment. 

“I heard you last night on the phone to her. Who is she?” You cocked your head, a little smug over the fact that you’d caught him- what kind of a genius calls his mistress while his wife’s next door? 

To your surprise, Spencer broke out into a laugh, taking his head into his hands as he shook it in relief. “You got me, baby. You caught me.” He smiled dazedly. 

“I did, so I don’t know why you’re smiling.” You scowled.

“You caught me talking to my therapist.” He shot you an unimpressed glare. “I started seeing her 2 weeks ago and I didn’t want to tell you in case it didn’t work out. I didn’t want you getting your hopes up. But Jesus, baby. Divorce? That’s where you landed?” 

“It’s not just that!” You jumped to your own defence. “How do you explain all the late nights at work- and that conversation we had this morning about my career?”

“That’s what I was going to talk to you about today. I got you a job.” He stated. 

“Huh? Why?” You gawked, hesitant to believe anything he said. 

He took a deep breath, shuffling his chair a little closer and taking your hand. 

“Look, baby, I know you try your hardest to be a great wife. Too hard, if anything, and you’ve always been exceptional and far too good for me. As much as I love your dedication, you need to think about your own needs and prioritise those for a change. It’s no secret that you’ve been feeling unfulfilled for a while now, I can see it from a mile away. I should’ve addressed it sooner but, well, you know.”

“Spence?” You shook your head in uncertainty, wondering how you could’ve been so wrong.

“I should’ve never let you give your career up. I should’ve pushed you harder but I just loved having you at home all the time, it’s selfish, I know. My job is stressful but it gives me a sense of purpose, one I know you crave.” He explained, trying not to giggle at your awestruck face and your inability to form a single sentence. “What I’m saying is, I want to see you reignite that old passion you had. How would you feel about joining me in the BAU?” 

Nothing could’ve prepared you for his admission and tears of shock and immense relief began coursing down your face. “Spencer, I can’t believe this.”

“In hindsight, I should’ve talked to you about it first but I thought it might be a nice surprise- I’m an idiot, you don’t have to take it, of course, if you don’t want to.” He backtracked, suddenly aware of how flawed his plan was. 

“That’s the best news I’ve heard in a very long time.” You uttered softly. 

“R-really? You want to do it?” He raised his eyebrows in that adorably curious way of his. 

“I don’t know how you managed to figure out I wanted a job before I did, but I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Yes, I want to do it.” You nodded, too consumed with excitement to mull over your embarrassingly wrong assumptions.

“Now, it’s only a low-level position for the time being, just to ease you into the transition but you have the potential to-“

“I’ll be with you.” You smiled simply.

“Yes, for the most part. I thought it’d be a good way to spend more time together- not including the times when I’d have to fly out and can’t take you with me yet, although-“

“Spencer.” You interrupted him. “Thank you.” 

“Well, of course. Anything for you.” He squeezed your hands and you felt the anxiety throb away. “Can’t believe you thought I was cheating.”

“You gave me some major indicators!” You scrunched your face up awkwardly. “And my mother pointed out that-“

“Ah, there we go.” He sighed, unimpressed. “That woman has had it out for me for the better part of a decade.” 

“Sorry, baby, you know she has a talent for burrowing inside my head.” You confessed shyly, aware you should’ve known better. 

“I’m going to talk to her.” Spencer declared.

“Huh?” 

“First thing tomorrow, we’re going to her house and I’m throwing it all out there. After a decade of pent-up resentment, it’s time.” 

Spencer usually avoided your mother at all costs, electing to work overtime on weekends when she decided to visit and often coming down with mysterious ailments during the holidays that prevented him from attending her get-togethers.

“Can’t wait to see how that turns out.” You chuckled gleefully. “And therapy, baby? Wow. I’m so proud of you.” 

“I was sceptical at first but I think it’s helping- I’m learning to compartmentalise the issues and most importantly, not take them out on you.” He stared into your eyes and your breath hitched; even after so many years, he had a way of making you feel impossibly shy. 

“You sound like a new man, Mr Reid.” You teased, the wine floating around your bloodstream in a way that made you deliciously fuzzy.

“It’s all because of you, Mrs Reid.” A smirk tugged at his lips. 

“So we’re really okay?” You asked in disbelief, immeasurably relieved that the rollercoaster seemed to be at an end. “What now?”

“I’ll tell you.” He drawled in a softly seductive tone. “We’re going to order dinner and dessert, I’m going to get you a little too drunk.” He dropped his hand to your thigh, trailing up it as he spoke. “And then I’m going to take you home and fuck you.” 

“Oh.” You squeaked, breaking into tingles at the prospect. 

“That sound good, doll?” He kneaded your inner thigh and you felt your body go numb as words failed you. “I thought so.”

Seeing that the bottle on your table was glisteningly empty, Spencer beckoned over a waiter.

“Give me your most expensive wine.” He smirked while ordering. “We’re celebrating.”

Although he was a law-abiding federal agent, Spencer ran more than a few red lights that evening given the ravenous way his wife stared at him from the passenger seat, crawling out of her skin with the desire to touch him. As soon as he pulled into the driveway, you were both in a desperate rush to get inside. You clawed at Spencer’s shirt while he shakily tried to unlock the door, trembling with anticipation. 

“H-hang on, baby.” The sound of clinking keys mixed with his groans. “God…”

You left messy, wet kisses all down his neck as he finally pushed the door open, taking you into his arms and guiding you indoors. 

“Right- mm, here.” You whined between kisses, gesturing at the sofa as you kicked your heels off. 

“My desperate girl, can’t even wait long enough to get to the bedroom.” He teased as he pushed you down onto the couch, hooking onto the waistband of your tights with his bony fingers and slowly dragging them down your legs- leaving small kisses down your thighs and calves in the process. 

You let out impatient whimpers as he folded your dress up over itself and dragged down your panties.

“Were these your ‘I’m a strong woman’ divorce panties?” He chuckled as he yanked the tiny lace garment off your feet and threw it behind him. 

“I needed as much confidence as I could muster.” You pulled him closer by the tie for a heated kiss. “I was about to lose the best thing that ever happened to me.” 

“You could never lose me.” He stared into your eyes with a dizzying intensity that made all the blood rush to your heat. “You’re my wife…” He drawled huskily as he ripped the front panel of your dress open. “Until the day I die.” Looping his fingers around it, he tore the material further with a loud tug, leaving your bare tits bouncing out of the tight fabric. “You jump to conclusions like it’s a full-time job.” He pressed his lips against your hot skin. “But I love you.” You wanted to laugh but a moan escaped your lips instead when he wrapped his tongue around one nipple, grasping the other with a rough hand. “And my God, do you have the best tits I’ve ever seen.” 

You raked your fingers through his thick, messy hair as you squirmed beneath him, sure that if he made you wait any longer you’d start crying. 

“Patience, baby. You’ll get it.” He whispered, dragging his lips down your body and leaving goosebumps in his wake. He left sloppy, open-mouth kisses along your thighs, so near your heat you could feel his warm breath fanning it. 

“P-please, Spence, please.” You muttered, bucking your hips to close the distance between you.

“You know I always give my girl what she wants.” He breathed heavily, snaking his arms around your shaky hips and tugging you closer to drag his tongue across your clit. You melted into the sofa as he sucked on your most sensitive spot, locking you into an unescapable vice with his strong arms. 

“Mmh…” You threw your head back, still squirming as he ate you with such passion and hunger that you committed every godless detail to memory. His hair became increasingly dishevelled as you twisted it into messy knots, fidgeting with the curls as he licked broad stripes up your clit with fanatical force. 

“Fuck, fuck…” You grew delirious as he sped up, legs trembling from how good he was making you feel; you desperately pressed yourself further against his mouth, wanting to be devoured until there was nothing left. 

“Can-can I, please, can you- oh God.” You rambled nonsensically as he showed no sign of slowing down, worshipping you with his tongue until you felt like blacking out. He groaned in approval as he flitted across your wet slit aggressively, knowing it pushed you over the brink every time. It had been months since he’d had you wrapped around his neck like this, panting in that slutty way that drove him wild- and as much as he wanted to savour it, he couldn’t wait much longer to have you. As you pushed his head down, he sucked so sloppily that the sounds emanating were nothing short of pornographic.

“Spencer!” You moaned out sinfully while you came, gripping his shoulders with your thighs as you dissolved into a mushy, whiney mess. Your hips twitched as he pulled away from you, wiping the drool from his mouth with the sleeve of his collared shirt. 

“No need to yell, I’m right here.” He grinned, deriving great pleasure from seeing you fall apart. 

“Oh God, I’ve forgotten how good you are that.” You winced, trembling from the force of your release. 

“I’ll make sure you never forget again.” He smirked into the kiss as he pressed his lips against yours, barely giving you any time to come to as he ripped off the remnants of your dress. “Sorry about that, doll- I’ll buy you a new one.” 

“It was my divorce dress, I never would’ve worn it again.” You giggled as you helped him out of his shirt and unbuttoned his trousers, desperate to feel him inside you. Your back arched instinctively as soon as you felt the tip of his cock rubbing against your clit; your head rolled back as you felt him slide in teasingly slow, letting you feel every last inch as he spread you apart and scattered sensual kisses down your neck. An obscene moan left your lips when he buried himself as deep inside you as he could. 

“Spence, fuck, I don’t know if- ah.” You struggled to get the words out as he stared down at you with amusement. “Too big, I-“

“A few months without my dick and you’ve forgotten how to take it?” He jeers, a twisted smile radiating from him. “That’s no good at all, baby. We’re gonna have to teach you all over again.” 

You bit your lip to conceal the whimper that threatened to spill as you nodded obediently, hanging off his every word. 

“Breathe.” He pulled out by just an inch or two, ensuring you would barely notice before slowly pushing his hips forward and plunging himself to the hilt. 

His hair dangled over his forehead, the unruly locks almost tickling you as he hovered above you, waiting for you to adjust to his thick length. 

“Mm…” You peeped, looking at him coyly like butter wouldn’t melt. 

“Yeah?” He whispered, nudging his nose against yours before you nodded. With the thousands of times you’d made love, he knew the meaning of every subtle cue and whimper; he knew you were often too shy to speak so he let you get away with using your varying whines as a form of communication. His dirty talk overwhelmed you, leaving you flustered and speechless- and he knew just how much you loved it.  

Spencer pulled out half his length this time, grabbing you by the jaw to hold you lovingly as he thrusted in and out, making sure to look you in the eyes as his swollen cock massaged your walls. Ever the shy one, you tried averting eye contact and looking away from his intense glare but he gently guided you back with a firm hand. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling as he made love to you, your twisted eyebrows and parted lips too sweet to ignore.  

You cried out when his thrusts grew rougher, panting heavily as he fucked you even harder than you remembered. 

“You can take it, baby.” He cooed as he fucked you deep and slow. “I know you can.” He pulled out almost all the way before plunging his cock back in, coated in glistening arousal. “Deep breaths for me, doll.” He breathed with you, setting a tempo as you struggled to get anything but your whorish moans out.

“You like it when I stretch this little pussy out?” He groaned, wet flesh and skin smacking against hip bone. “Yeah you do.” He smirked as your cheeks flushed red at his lewd words. “How were you going to go through with a divorce? You can’t even tell me you like the way I fuck you.” 

“Spencer!” You gasped, partly at his vulgarity and partly at the way his tip just brushed against your deepest spot, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. 

“What, baby?” His hands trailed their way down to your hips as he sat up, gripping the handles of your body tightly as he fucked you onto himself. “We both know you could never find someone who fucks you this good again. Who pounds into your cunt exactly the way you need it.” Your jaw dropped at his crude words- he’d always had a penchant for making you flustered but it was clear that prison had made him even rougher around the edges. As much as you wanted to knock him down a peg, you couldn’t deny the truth to what he’d said; there was no upgrading after Spencer.

“You’re cockier than I remember.” You manage to breathe out, glassy eyes watering with overstimulation. 

“And you’re tighter than I remember.” He smirked maniacally as he started rubbing rough circles into your clit, not slowing down the way he was sorely pummelling into you. “Goddamn, angel, you take me so well.” He muttered under his breath as he observed the mouthwatering way in which your pussy swallowed his entire length, gushing with arousal as the wet smacking intensified. 

He swooped down to kiss you, swallowing your moans with his eager mouth as he pushed your knees against your chest. “You feel that?” He shuddered, guiding your hand to your stomach where his member was poking through the flesh, leaving an imprint.

“Uh huh.” You panted.

“You like having my cock this deep in your guts?” In an unexpected move, he pressed down on your lower stomach as you nodded to his question desperately. You screamed in blinding ecstasy as you reached your peak, the borderline cruel way in which Spencer continued pounding against your sweet spot proving too much to take. 

“Look at that, I got my answer.” He licked his lips at the sight of his cock glazed in creamy arousal as he pulled out with a groan. You lay motionless on the cushy sofa, limbs numb as you noticed the scowl Spencer was sporting on his chiselled face, small beads of sweat running down his temples. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” He chuckled darkly. 

“Resting?” You upturned your eyebrows sweetly. 

Before you could protest, he dragged you down the sofa and turned you over, positioning you to arch your back and expose your throbbing pussy to him. 

“You think I’m going to let you get away with one round?” He spanked your ass with a firm, open palm. “I know you’ve been whining about this all the time to your friends. I know how desperate you’ve been for your husband to fuck you. Well, honey- I’ll give you something to talk about.” Before you could respond, he guided his veiny cock into your squishy walls, not giving you any time to adjust to the stretch as he pounded into you from the back. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He demanded as he grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you up, holding your back flush against his body. “You wanted to be fucked like a whore? Answer me.” 

“Yes! Yes, Spence, I want it so bad, treat me like a slut.” You surprised yourself with your sinful words, the rough treatment prompting you to act out of character. He pushed you back onto the bed, holding you down as he drilled into you with dizzying speed. The couch squeaked with the force of your face getting pressed into the pillows as you panted so breathily you thought your heart might give out. You bit into the cushions as drool seeped freely from your mouth and wet the dark grey fabric. 

“Harder…” You murmured, barely audible.

“What was that?” Spencer asked in disbelief, slowing down a little to make your words out clearly. 

“Harder. I want you to fuck me to within an inch of my life.” You confessed sultrily and a dangerous smirk crept across your husband’s face. 

“Anything for you.” He was more than happy to comply with your request.

You spent all night tangled up in each other’s bodies, taking turns being mind numbingly rough and tooth achingly sweet. He whispered confessions of love in your ear one minute and he pinned you down hard enough to leave bruises the next. It was, without a doubt, the best night of your life.

Waking up the next day in Spencer’s arms gave you more euphoria than any drug ever could. He smelled of last night’s wine and sweat, intermingled with the floral detergent of your freshly washed sheets. 

“Good morning, baby.” He cooed when he saw your eyes flutter open. “Or rather, good afternoon. How’d you sleep?” 

“Never better.” Your husky voice replied. “But I don’t think I’ll be able to walk for a while.” 

“I guess I’ll have to carry you to your mother’s, then.” He chuckled, pulling you in closer so that your head rested on his smooth, bare chest. 

“What? You’re not still serious about doing that.” You looked up at him pleadingly. 

“Oh, yes I am.” He scolded playfully. “She convinced you I was having an affair and encouraged you to get a divorce. I’d say there’s a conversation to be had there.”

“You know, I really wish you weren’t so respectable sometimes.” You dreaded the prospect of such a confrontation. 

“There was nothing respectable about the way I was splitting you open last night.” He countered mischeviously and you rolled your eyes to distract from the blush creeping over your cheeks. “Come on, I’ll buy us breakfast on the way. Get dressed.” 

“But Spence!” You tried to argue but he had already climbed out of bed, humming showtunes on his way to the bathroom. With a hefty sigh, you swung your legs round the side of the bed and started searching for your underwear. 

“Are you sure? It’s not too late to turn around.” You twiddled your thumbs standing outside your mother’s house, her near-black wooden door looming over you as you waited for her to answer. 

“Yes. Stop being a wimp.” Spencer replied just before the door swung open.

“Oh. Hi darling.” She eyed you up before slowly turning her head. “Hello Spencer.” 

“There’s my favourite mother-in-law. We thought we’d surprise you with breakfast.” He lifted the brown paper bag containing drive through diner food. 

“As if I’d eat that.” She raised her eyebrows contemptously. 

“Come on, mom, are you gonna let us in or not?” You piped up after seeing she had no intentions of making things easy for Spencer. 

“Yes, fine, in you come.” She opened the door wide and stepped aside, letting you both enter her lavish home. 

“Love what you’ve done with the place.” He commented a little snarkily, noticing the extensive remodeling work that had been done.

“Oh yes, we did it last spring. I suppose you haven’t been round for years so you wouldn’t know. Are you avoiding me, Spencer?” She took a seat across from you both in the living room. 

“Me? Never. Just like you’d never convince my wife to get a divorce, right?” He quipped and your stomach twisted over how little it took them to start arguing- you’d only just walked in through the door. 

“I’ve only ever advocated for what’s best for her.” She stuck her nose up at her son-in-law. 

“And why are you so certain that’s not me?” He snapped, genuine curiousity tinging his voice. 

“You’re not good enough.” She replied with a resoluteness that must’ve hurt. 

“Why, mom? What’s so bad about Spence?” You asked. 

“He’s just not who you were supposed to end up with. You were not meant to give up your life to be a housewife to a mediocre man.” She answered simply, like she didn’t even have to think about it. 

“So you resent him because of my career choices?” You couldn’t help but laugh a little as she shrugged. “Mother, I chose to leave the field. He had nothing to do with it, he supported me-“

“Oh, I bet he did. Having a woman at home to cook and clean must’ve been too tempting of an offer to pass up.” She scratched at her right arm- a leftover habit from the nicotine patches she used years ago. She claimed she quit smoking but you suspected she’d be in dire need of a cigarette after this conversation. 

“That’s ridiculous-“

“She’s right.” Spencer interrupted you. “I was more than happy to have you at home. I preferred it, really. And I didn’t say a word even though I knew you were making a mistake, even though I knew it wouldn’t make you happy.” 

“See. The pipe cleaner admits it.” She scoffed and you shot her a venomous glare. “Not to mention what you’ve put her through this year.” 

“I know I haven’t by any means been a good husband, but I wouldn’t cheat and I’d never want a divorce. I’m trying to make things right.” He confessed earnestly. 

“How?” She scowled, clearly believing him to be beyond redemption. 

“He got me a job at the BAU.” You chimed in, wanting to see the smugness wiped off her face. 

“And I’m seeing a therapist.” Spencer continued. “I’m determined to be better.” 

She sat there in silence, incapable as always of expressing any remorse. 

“I love your daughter and I’m not going anywhere. I’d like it very much if we could somehow start over.” He shot her those puppy dog eyes of his and you sincerely believed if she didn’t give in, she must be the only woman in the world immune to his charms. 

“Alright. Alright, Spencer.” She sighed after a short contemplation. “If my little girl is happy, I suppose I have no choice.” 

“The bastard actually managed it.” You thought as you witnessed his beaming smile flood the room with light, his vibrancy so infectious you knew even your mother noticed. 

“Glad to hear it, mom.” He joked and she choked on the water she had begun to sip.

“Don’t push it.”

“Told you it’d all work out.” He said excitedly while he opened the car door for you, practically skipping out of your mother’s house. 

“I know, and she actually invited you round?!” You shook your head in disbelief as he started the engine and drove away from her gated residence. 

“Maybe we’ll make these trips a weekly habit.” He suggested, resting his hand soundly on your thigh. 

“Not every week. I need some alone with my handsome husband.” You gushed, admiring his perfect side profile. 

“You must have me confused with someone else, lady.” He chuckled as he switched on the radio. “Oh my God, baby! This song!” 

“No way, I haven’t heard this since, since-“

“That time in college.” He winked at you and you threw your head back in laughter, precious memories flooding your mind as the familiar pop tune hummed on. 

“Yeah. That was the first and last time we ever do it on a carnival pedal boat.” 

“Hey, never say never- I see a lake right over there.” He pointed out the window as you drove by.

“I don’t think so, buddy.” You slapped his arm playfully. “Those days are behind us, we’re old and boring now.”

“If this is boredom, sign me up for eternity.” A warm smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“God, I love you, Spencer Reid.” 

“I love you even more, Mrs Reid.”

[rose-gold-bullet]

[𝐢 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰] - Giyuu Tomioka x Reader

Summary: You get injured while fighting a demon and Giyuu helps to bring you back to health.

warnings: none aside from the injury the reader endures and maybe a gross amount of fluff

"It hurts."

"I know." Giyuu spoke softer than usual in an attempt to calm you down as he took off his haori to create a makeshift bandage.

You struggled to maintain your breathing technique as you bled out on the forest floor. The pain you felt in your dominant arm was horrid, but it was nothing compared to shame you felt as you were sloppily nursed back to stability by your companion for the mission you were assigned. You were a member of the Hashira after all; how could you let yourself be torn down in battle by such a low level Kizuki? You were able to land the final blow, but not without substantial damage to your own body.

If you wanted to be honest with yourself, you knew exactly what impeded your typically flawless movements; you were distracted by him. The same man frantically wrapping his haori around your wound in a subpar attempt to stop the blood loss.

You couldn't help it; as cliche as it sounds, you felt like his eyes were designed to get lost in.

"Can you stand?" His voice pulled you from your thoughts.

"I hope so. Can you help me up?" Your response was shaky and barely loud enough to be heard.

He slowly stood and pulled you up with him. You tried as hard as you could to steady yourself once he let go, but all the motivation in the world couldn't stop your legs from buckling. You gasped as you shut your eyes and waited for the harsh impact with the cold ground.

Unsurprisingly, such impact never came.

"Thanks." You muttered, trying to hide your embarrassment as you were being carried bridal style through the forest and soon onto a dirt road.

'As if I couldn't appear any more pathetic...' your brain assaulted itself with more negative assumptions than ever before, and you dug your face into Giyuu's chest to hide the upset expression you could feel plaguing your usually neutral features.

The walk to the Butterfly Estate was a bit of a long one, but it was necessary for a Pillar to receive the best care for mangled limbs.

Much of the said trek was made in silence.

After some time, you shifted your body so you could watch your surroundings. If it weren't for the trail of blood you were leaving with every step the visibly concerned man took, it'd be a perfect night.

"Giyuu, isn't it lovely out tonight?" You finally spoke.

"You're sounding dangerously similar to Shinobu. I have more important things to worry about, as do you."

A breathy laugh escaped your lips. You could tell your own injury was making you a bit delirious.

"You needn't be so serious. We both know I'll recover," you took a ragged breath, "I know you're a Pillar, but we're both allowed to enjoy life sometimes." You explained. As expected, there was no response.

You looked up at the night sky before taking another shaky breath, "You remind me of the moon."

"What?"

"Though, it's not nearly as handsome as you are." You spilled. You were too exhausted to care about whatever his response may be, and too inattentive to notice the slight blush that crept onto his face.

"I'll be sure to have the caretakers at the estate check for a concussion."

Once again, silence filled the open dirt road you were now following.

"I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused tonight. I should know to make myself more useful."

"You were more tha-"

"I think I'm going to fall asleep. Is that alright?" You intentionally cut him off as you knew you weren't strong enough for that sort of conversation. You glanced up at his face and waited for a reply.

He hesitantly nodded, "I'll wake you up if your breathing gets to slow. Dying isn't an opt-" Once again, He was cut off. This time, by the gentle snores escaping your lips. He sighed, exasperated, but was glad you were at least safe for now. With that peace of mind, he allowed the guilt he was struggling to carry lessen in weight ever so slightly.

'As if I couldn't appear any more useless.' He thought as he replayed the moment you cried out in pain over and over in his mind, wincing at every opportunity where he had the power to change the course of the fight but couldn't think fast enough in the moment.

---

You awoke in a bed you recognized almost immediately. You were one of the more frequent visitors at the Butterfly Estate, not because you were weaker but because it wasn't unheard of for you to throw yourself in front of enemy attacks aimed at others (most often protecting Giyuu).

"Oh good, you're awake! We'll let Mr. Tomioka know immediately." Three girls stood at the foot of your bed with a polite smile pasted on their faces.

"Wait- What are my injuries?"

"A severe laceration in your (dominant) arm as well as a fractured humerus and 2 broken ribs. Don't worry, Aoi took the necessary measures and you should make a complete recovery in around 3 weeks."

"Why would you let Giyuu know I woke up?"

"He's always the most concerned, miss! This time, he tried to sit in your room as you slept so he'd be there when you came to." One girl spoke up and they laughed in unison after. With that, they placed water and what you assumed to be pain medicine on your nightstand and left the room.

You laid completely still for a few minutes longer, piecing together the events before you blacked out. You felt your face heat up as you recalled the short exchange you had with Giyuu as he carried you to safety, and silently prayed he forgot about it.

Your thoughts were cut short by rapid footsteps increasing in volume from down the hall. Seconds later, there was a quiet knock at your door.

"Come in." Your voice was still weak, but it was a massive improvement in comparison to the night of the injury. The door slid open to reveal your evidently dejected friend. "Why are you still upset? The residents said I'd make a full recovery and the mission was successf-"

"I'm sorry." It was Giyuu's turn to speak over you. He hesitantly walked towards your bed and kneeled beside it. "I could have stopped this from happening. I could have saved you so much pain."

"That's not your responsibility-"

"It is. I'm there to keep you safe just as you're there to protect me. I failed." He closed his eyes and for only a second, you saw emotion far more intense than you've ever witnessed him showing before.

It almost broke you.

"You can't blame yourself for that! You're the one who kept me alive." You quickly tried to sit up to emphasize your point but flopped back down on the bed upon realizing you had no movement of your dominant arm to support you. "... A cast?" You shook your head in annoyance upon seeing it.

He spoke up once again. "Let me aid you back to health," there was a brief pause as he tried to find the right words, "As an apology for my negligence."

Normally, you'd immediately decline. You have far too much pride for your own good and would never want Giyuu to assume you were weak regardless. But a broken arm is beyond annoying, and maybe some extra time with him outside of life threatening missions would be nice.

You thought it over for a few seconds longer, "If you insist!" you offered a smile although you were nearly certain you'd somehow regret this decision later.

Needless to say, you were right.

---

"Giyuu, let go! I need to train!"

"You need to rest. How do you expect to even lift something as heavy as a sword with a cast on?" You desperately tried to squirm out of his grip as he pinned you to the bed.

"I'll figure it out! Come on, Aoi said I could!"

"No I didn't!" You both heard her call out from the hallway in response.

It was no use. The whole world was against you. You gave up, but not without pouting and complaining for another 20 minutes before making another pitiful attempt at escaping again.

"How have you managed to make full recoveries in the past?" Annoyance dripped from the poor man's lips.

"I'm lucky!" You grinned, before shutting your eyes and going back to sleep. You missed his eyes soften as he watched your sleeping form, before standing up quietly and leaving for a little while.

'Nows my chance!' You stood up and left your room, only to be carried back by the exasperated water breather, both passive-aggressively bickering all the while.

---

"I don't need constant care, you know. It's just a broken arm..." You trailed off as you thought of a way to get him to leave for a while. You enjoyed your time with him, but it was beginning to feel like you were being babysat.

No reply.

You stood up from your bed once again, this time receiving a suspicious glare from Giyuu. "Calm down, I'm only going to get some food."

He nodded at you, but didn't leave your bedside.

"You're... free to join me, you know." You specified once you sensed he wasn't quite sure what to do in your absence. He nodded once more and began trailing behind you as you made your way to a sort of cafeteria where recovering demon slayers can find food.

The food they offered at the time was ramen, which you graciously accepted, though knew from the start it would be a battle to eat it considering your injuries. You took two bowls, found a seat, and waved Giyuu over.

"Thanks so much for making sure I'm alright," you started, "but I swear I'll be fine." You stared down at your ramen before glancing at the chopsticks beside it, then back at the bowl. Maybe you could wait to eat until Giyuu leaves so you don't have to worry about making a fool of yourself, or perhaps you could say you weren't hungry after al-

"You should eat. You haven't had anything all day aside from your medicine."

You looked at Giyuu, then back at the chopsticks. You took a determined breath, then shakily grabbed your chopsticks with your non-dominant hand.

'I can do this,' you thought as you slowly picked up some noodles. Let's just say you weren't exactly ambidextrous. In fact, it's a miracle you got your feeble hand to hold the chopsticks at all.

'I can do this, I ca-' the very few noodles you were able to grab flopped back into your bowl and you could feel the hot liquid splash back in your face. 'No. No, I definitely cannot.'

Meanwhile, your so-called caretaker was struggling to keep his calm demeanour and you caught a glimpse of his mouth twitching up. "It's rude to laugh!" You huffed, but you couldn't keep a straight face either.

After a few moments, his expression shifted back from amused to concerned. "Let me help."

"...What?"

He took the chopsticks from your hands and picked up some noodles before putting them in front of your face. "Eat."

Your face became redder than you thought was possible as some recovering demon slayers snuck peaks at the the two Hashiras apparently sharing a meal.

"I'll pass." You choked out. Giyuu feeding you was not on your plan for the day. He furrowed his brows a bit and inched the noodles closer. You would've held your ground, but the growls coming from your stomach begged you to accept the help. You closed your eyes and quickly took a bite.

"Wow, I had no idea Tomioka and (L/N) were together!"

"I wonder if they were keeping it a secret. I always knew they were in love!" You both overheard the hushed voices erupting from a few of the recovering demon slayers in the room, but neither of you wanted to correct them as you took another bite.

---

You led Giyuu out to the gardens after your rather embarrassing meal.

"I'm not letting you train." He said firmly.

You laughed, "I know. After being stuck in the manor all day, I just figured we both could use some fresh air." What you said was mostly true; yes, you needed the fresh air, but it was more so to calm you down after what happened in the cafeteria.

He nodded, and you both stood in silence as you watched the sun begin to set. Being alone with him so long only confirmed for you just how much you fell for him; it was the comfortable silence that proved it.

You began to walk around the garden, admiring the way the plants glowed under the setting sun. Giyuu grabbed your good hand as you both continued to walk and you blushed at the contact.

"Don't worry! I'm able to walk on my own at least," you laughed in an attempt to hide your bashfulness, "it wasn't my legs that were injured!"

Giyuu admired your blushing face before revealing a soft, yet genuine smile.

"I know."

Notes: -2,204 words -maybe i'll update this with a cringe warning -cross posted on AO3 and Wattpad if you want to support me there as well <3 thank you for reading!! new to tumblr so bear with me here lol

[lady-lauren]

❥ SHANKS X FEM!READER

❥ WORD COUNT: 2.3k

❥ WARNINGS/TAGS: forced orgasms, some yandere vibes, dub-con to be safe, very inappropriate use of conqueror's haki, power dynamics (captain/crew), praise, creampie, Shanks is so mean but so good and I would die for him

→ Kinktober Masterlist ←

“You’re gonna cum for me, darlin’, even if I have to take it from you.”

The weight of his words curl around your throat like a vice, blood pumping in your ears you until can barely hear his boisterous laugh. 

The smile he gives is so cheshire, so oddly genuine, it makes a shiver of fear run down the back of your neck. Perhaps it’s actually pleasure, but the emotions are too entangled for your brain to piece apart your state of mind. 

He’s not letting you go this time, not until he gets what he wants. 

“Shanks,” you plead, nails gripping into the black fabric of his cloak, “we shouldn’t, you’re my captain, and I—”

“And your captain knows what’s best for you. Promise.”

The playful lilt in his voice is disarming. 

He always lures you in so easily, and usually you can squirm away, calm your raging heart and pretend like you’re not the object of his desires. Because you shouldn’t be, you can’t be, you’re honor bound to serve him as your captain and you refuse to let lust cloud your relationship to Shanks. He helped make you a pirate. You’re more than a mistress.

Yet he’s already stripped you bare for him tonight, easy work for one of the most powerful men on the seas.

Warm lips press into your cheek as you turn your face from him, gritting your teeth as you deny his kiss.

Shanks chuckles in the face of your defiance, squishing his fingers into your cheeks to make you look at him. 

“You know, you really are cute, thinking you can stop me. Besides, don’t you want to follow Captain’s orders, hm? That’s why I picked you—you’re so loyal, always willing to please. But you should please and be pleased.”

His eyes close with a sincere smile, the pink scars nearly shining in the firelight of his room.

Perhaps you do forget sometimes how weak you are compared to him, to the man who can cut down enemies with a single gaze. 

Trapped between his colossal body and the wall, you have nowhere to run, no way to slink off and keep only ghosts of his touches. He’s going to make you feel every moment.

“Want me to show you how good I can make you feel?” 

“Trust me, I know, I know how good you’d feel, but I can’t—”

“You have no idea.”

Somehow he feels closer, as if the sun-kissed skin of his chest from his parted shirt is already blending into yours. He is darkness clouding over you, engulfing you.

He cups your chin with his hand, big fingers spilling down onto your neck. He slants his mouth over yours before you can protest, moving plush lips until you can’t help but moan. Spiced rum, aged and smooth, greets you when his tongue slides between parted lips. He kisses like a dance, like a back and forth that he leads.

“Breathe,” he whispers, and you don’t have to ask why. You sense his conqueror’s haki in the air before you feel the power lick at your skin, dragging and pulling and hot. 

“Cum for me.”

Lightning quick, your tummy tightens, the pleasure centers of your brain on overload as he overtakes you. Desire boils down to your cunt like a poisonous liquid heat, unbearable, sinful, yet so, so blissful as your pussy flutters and you fall over the crest of orgasm. 

“Fuck! Oh, fuck you, fuck, fuck…” Your eyes squeeze closed as the ecstasy is literally ripped from your body, like he somehow sunk his hand inside your core and extracted all the delight he craves. 

“Doesn’t that feel good?”

You can’t help but nod, because yes, it does, as if pleasure is bursting like supernovas underneath your skin. Your hands are clinging to him, one around the back of his neck, the other beneath his shirt, like you can’t help but be closer to the source of your heat.

“Shanks, I…” your tongue is so thick in your mouth, searching for words you can’t think of.

“Now imagine just how fucking good you’ll feel when you do that on my cock.” 

“Please, oh, god, please.”

His famous laugh greets your ears and you’re almost knocked back to the reality of who has you in his grasp. 

“That’s my girl.” 

You’re in his bed before you know it, eyes glassy at the sight of his naked body. You knew he’d be beautiful, but the actual view of him, on his knees, pumping his cock in his hand while between your legs has you whining.

“What’s going on in your pretty little head? Tell me.” 

“I…want you, so badly, and I-I’m sorry for pushing you away. I never—”

He shushes you, takes his hand from his cock so he can brush the back of his finger across your cheek, “You were just doing what you thought was right. Didn’t wanna just be my plaything, did you? I know you wanted to be my strong little pirate, but you can be both.” 

“Promise?” 

“Swear it.” He grins like a little boy as he mockingly draws an X across his heart with his finger. 

How can someone so deadly be so adorable?

Your instincts are flaring again, telling you to run, that once he sinks his claws into you, you’ll only ever be his. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Maybe that doesn’t sound so bad, especially not with how good it feels when he buries his hand between your thighs, fingers playing in your wetness. 

Shanks is equal parts messy and methodical, swirling his fingers around in your slick folds before rubbing his thumb over your already sensitive clit. You cry out, back arching and nails digging so deeply in his pillows you swear you hear fabric rip.

“Think I made you wet enough to take my cock already, don’t you?” 

To prove his point, he slides his slick-drenched fingers between your lips, letting you taste yourself. You nod your affirmation as you suck against his skin, his eyes shining as you wrap your tongue around his fingers.

You eye his cock between his legs, preening at the thought of having him inside you. His cock is pretty, fat, already leaking and veins straining beneath silken skin. Red curls crawl up his toned stomach and you nearly drool around his fingers. 

All you ever wanted was to be a pirate, but the sight of your captain’s cock has you content to be a whore.

“Been dreamin’ about you in my sheets ever since I found you, darlin’. Knew you were the one for me, my perfect girl.”

“Oh please,” you gasp as he draws his fingers from your mouth, dragging them down to your tit so he can pinch your nipple, “you know what praise does to me, Shanks.”

“Of course I do,” he sing-songs, grasping his dick and pushing his tip between your folds. He presses in, a cant of his hips shoving his cock halfway into your dripping hole. Your head falls back at the stretch, cooing at the feel of him. 

Shanks is clearly done chasing you, mindset moved to capture, to take. He bottoms out and immediately starts moving, grinning as he watches your pussy lips drag along his length. 

He wolf-whistles at the sight, making you flush with a strange mixture of embarrassment and pride. “Look at that pretty fucking pussy. So slutty already for me.”

Strong fingers push your thigh back, spreading you wide as he starts his pace. 

“Now,” Shanks clicks his tongue against his teeth, “let’s see what it feels like when I make you cum around my cock.” 

“You don’t, ah,” you gasp as his cockhead prods against a soft spot, “h-have to make me, I’ll—” 

“Shh, I’ll take care of you, baby. Let me make you feel good, yeah?” 

There’s no time to think, not with how fast he acts, a simple look into your eyes has you shattering until you scream. The pleasure claws from your depths all over again, more intense now that your cunt has his fat cock to convulse around. You suck him in deep as you fall, bliss blooming over every nerve ending. Your toes curl, your nails cut into his shoulders, your stomach nearly hurts from the twisting of your orgasm. 

“God damn, you feel so fucking good when you do that, get so tight around me.” 

“Sh-Sha—mhm, fuck,” you try to protest, to say something, but the way his body moves into yours is like the mesmeric waves, lulling you into a headspace of drifting euphoria. 

He’s all over you—hand in your hair, tongue sliding down your neck, lips sucking at the fat of your tits, teeth scraping along your curves. He’s all encompassing, snaking his arm behind your back until you're pressed against his thick chest and rocking with every thrust.

The orgasms have made you numb, all you feel is pure carnality, like now you just exist to fuck and be fucked.

For a moment you wonder if he’s still forcing it on you, but you decide you don’t care. He’s the only one who can make you feel like this, haki or no.

Shanks brushes his nose down your cheek, lips hot and wet as he kisses your skin, “Touch me, baby, be with me.” 

Like puppetry, your hands trace his musculature, taking note of how his shoulders roll with every push and how his abdominal muscles stiffen whenever your cunt spasms from pleasure.

You kiss over the freckles on his shoulder, down to the thick bicep he no longer wraps in bandages. 

He groans as your lips get close to where his arm used to be, a purr from deep in his chest like you’re too close to something vulnerable.

“Gonna take from you again, darlin.’ Gotta feel your cunt suck me dry.” 

“N-no I can—I can do it, I can cum for you, promise.” 

“Mhm, where’s the fun in that when I can just make you?”

His hand snakes around your body, letting you sink into the bed free of his hold. He teases your clit just because he can, because he likes watching you wiggle and writhe and whine beneath him.

You suck in a sob, “Please, just a little more, more, and I—”

Shanks’ haki feels like the warm licks of familiar fire. He burns because you let him too close, stared too long at the flames. 

You’re sure he purposely brings the assault of his conqueror's power on slower, lets it bleed and blend with the ecstasy building from the sensitive pressure on your clit. 

This crest is bigger, fuller, like you’ve been thrown from the Red Force into the toiling dark ocean. Only it’s boiling, scorching and tugging the pleasure from deep within your belly. 

“Oh god,” you throw your head back and whine, “too hot.” 

Shanks groans deep from his chest, fingers pausing on your clit as he feels you cum around him. His thighs shake, cock twitching and throbbing. Mean fingers dig into the softness of your belly like he’s clinging to sanity, holding himself back just enough to be in control. 

“One more, baby.”

He starts thrusting again, a slow grind into your depths that has red curls kneading into your clit. You feel him in your guts, your heart, like the beat of blood in your veins. 

“C-can’t, god, can’t, please.” Please no. Please yes. You’re back in an entanglement of emotions where no way is up, the sun still so far from underneath the waves.

Shanks buries his face in your neck, red hair fanning like embers across overheated skin. 

He sucks at your pulse, flesh between his lips, “yes you can, my good girl. For me.” 

You’re slammed into a new atmosphere, floating for seconds before being dragged back down, down to where you feel details of your name whispered against your throat and the pulsing of a thick cock as ropes of cum spill into tight, gummy walls. 

“Fuuuucckk, oh g-god, Shanks, hurts, so good, shit—”

You babble until your mouth runs dry, anchored by your captain’s bruising grasp on your hip. He has you flush against his body, heavy breaths syncing as you both float up from hell.

It’s like waking up from a dream when he starts kissing you, all feather-light and reverent. He sits up and his lopsided smile seems so sincere. 

“So proud of you, really thought you were gonna pass out there for a second.” He laughs playfully, blowing a stray red hair from his face. 

All you do is whine and shift your sore hips, gasping at the feel of his cock still hard and deep inside you. 

You’re not sure how much time passes before he pops his dick out—your heart beats are too erratic to count as seconds. 

He sinks praises into your skin, kissing down your breasts, your belly, making you jerk when he kisses the mound of your pussy. 

His breath is hot on your clit. That feeling has your mind shattering like porcelain, a sharp smack centering you straight back into reality. You sit up and stare at the scene before you, sharp-eyed prey watching a predator in the forest. 

“Shanks, no, please, for the love of god—” 

“No no no no, it’s okay,” he coos from between your legs, eyes closing and head cocking to the side as he smiles, “I’m not gonna take this one from you. Promise. Gonna let you do it all by yourself, nice and slow.” 

It’s easy to forget that Shanks is a bad liar when he shoves his pretty face down to eat his cum from your pussy. 

[oddinary4bts]

To Give a Helping Hand | ch 3 (jjk)

☆summary: when you finally come over to his place, Jungkook realizes he'll need more of you.

☆pairing: idol!Jungkook x female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI)

☆genre: smut, idol!au

☆warnings: unedited, curses, alcohol, an NDA (brief mention), explicit content: grinding, fingering, oral sex (female receiving), edging, begging/praise kink, spitting, jerking off, unprotected sex (don't be stupid), creampie

☆word count: 3.7k

☆a/n: i was horny i guess lmao hope you enjoy! this is unedited so beware for typos and stuff that doesn't make sense haha love y'all <3

☆☆☆☆☆

There’s something about you that Jungkook can’t quite figure out.

Maybe it’s the way you signed the NDA when you got to his place, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling with playfulness. Maybe it’s the way you teased him, threatening to spill his secrets with a wink that went straight to his dick. Or maybe it’s the way you told him he can’t tell anyone about you either.

It can be our secret, mmh?

Your words have been resonating through him since he made you dinner And he only did so because he wants to spend some time with you, to get to know a little before he actually fucks you, and all that shit. He’s just trying to be decent. But ever since you walked into his apartment with that skirt of yours - showing your indecent, strong legs, and thighs he wants to be crushed by - Jungkook has known he’ll get his dick wet tonight.

Hell, he knew it even before that, but the sight of you has been making him feel feral. It’s nothing new - he’s been feral for you ever since the first time he saw you at the gym, with that stupid Cooky keychain he hated then.

He doesn’t hate it anymore. In truth, he doesn’t even give a shit anymore. Maybe it’s because you have him wrapped around a finger, and he’s ready to make you see stars.

“Thank you for the food,” you say as you sit back in your chair, toying with the glass of the wine you brought. 

He tilts his head to the side, offers a small smirk and says, “Anytime.”

Your eyes glint. They glint like jewels in the sun, and it strikes him deep. “Does that mean it’s time for me to repay you?”

Fuck. His blood shoots down to his dick, and Jungkook stirs in his chair.

“I think we’re on uneven grounds, mmh?” he lets out.

You cock an eyebrow. “How so?”

“I haven’t seen you come yet.”

You smile a small, secretive smile, looking at your wine. “Does that bother you?”

“It does.” He shifts in his chair, leaning closer to you. He suddenly hates that you’re sitting on the other side of the table, but he’ll be patient tonight.

He wants to savour you until the sun comes up.

“So tonight is all about me?” you tease.

He can’t help the small laugh he lets out. “Oh, I think we’ll both find our pleasure.”

It doesn’t take you long after that to get up, walking around the table. Jungkook pushes his chair away from the table, and you straddle his lap with the quiet confidence he likes about you, lowering yourself on him until he’s sure you can feel his dick on you.

And he feels you, feels the warmth radiating off of you, and he already knows his climax will hit harder than it ever has.

“So,” you purr, circling your hips. “What do you want to start with?”

His hands find your waist, and he gently rubs you with his thumbs. “Why don’t you take your shirt off?”

You’re a brat. You’re a fucking brat, because you pout, saying, “Can’t do it for me?”

He’ll go insane tonight. Thoroughly, completely insane.

What will be left of him in the morning?

“You want to play this game?” he says, voice low.

You blink innocently. “What game?”

Jungkook gets up, carrying you with him. Your eyes widen in surprise, but you recover quickly, wrapping your legs around him. And he meant to carry you to his room, but your lips find the side of his neck, and you suck hard.

“Fuck,” he hisses, and he immediately directs himself towards the wall, pinning you against it. “You’re impatient.”

You lean your head back against the wall, looking at him through your lashes. “Maybe a little.”

It spurs him into action - Jungkook captures your mouth in a languid kiss, parting your lips with his tongue to taste you. He can taste the food and the wine on you, but also a taste that is so distinctly you that he sighs in relief.

He’s a man starved when it comes to you, and he doesn’t know what to make of it.

Jungkook grinds his hips, rubbing his length on you. You whimper in his mouth, your hands pulling on handfuls of his hair, and he hisses in pain, though it only turns him on more. Still, he kisses you, sucking on your lower lip and teasing it with his teeth. He doesn’t bite down too hard, doesn’t want to hurt you, but when your tongue toys with his piercings, he knows he needs to have you now. So he makes sure he’s holding you up with one hand, and then slides the other one between your bodies. 

He makes quick work of pulling your skirt up, and then his fingers deftly push your underwear aside. One digit parts your folds, tests your wetness, and his dick twitches in his pants at just how slick you already are.

“Who’s impatient now?” you purr.

He feels an inherent need to shut you up, and so he dips his finger inside of you up to the first knuckle, swallowing the needy moan you let out. And then he’s pulling his hand away, bringing it up to your face, and he pulls away from the kiss to push his finger in your mouth.

Your lips wrap around the digit, your eyes blazing bright, and you suck on it, your tongue teasing the pad. It reminds him of how your mouth felt on his dick the last time he saw you, and he grinds into you again, loving the way your eyebrows bunch together with pleasure.

He can’t wait to hear you moan his name. That, more than anything, pushes him to pull his finger out of your mouth, and to then carry you to his room. You busy yourself on the skin of his neck as he does so, and he grunts when your tongue teases the earring he’s wearing.

“No hickey,” he reminds you when you go back to sucking on his neck.

You stop, pulling away just enough to meet his gaze. “Don’t worry, I’ll be nice.”

He’s reached the bedroom by then, and Jungkook puts you down on his bed. He takes his shirt off while you make yourself comfortable on the bed, and he throws the piece of clothing on the floor before climbing on the mattress. You immediately spread your legs for him, and he pushes your skirt up to reveal the black lacy thong you’re wearing.

It barely even hides anything, and he can already tell that you’re slowly soaking the fabric.

Jungkook doesn’t miss the way you’re eyeing his chest, lust and desire swirling in the depths of your gaze. Your eyes, glistening earlier, have turned darker, and he can’t help but admire you for it.

You’re beautiful. Beautiful in a savage, strong way that he can’t even describe. Maybe it’s your muscles, or that quiet confidence you carry yourself around with. Or maybe it’s just the way his body reacts to you - his lust for you is wild, feral, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Jungkook bends down to kiss you, hand sliding to your wrist when you run your hand through his hair. He pulls your hand over your head, pressing it into the mattress right as you wrap your legs around his waist again. 

“Be nice and don’t touch me, mmh?” he tells you.

He doesn’t wait for your answer. He’s already sliding down between your legs, readying himself to finally get the taste of you that he’s been craving. And there’s something sinful about your skirt, about your black lacy thong, so he decides to keep your clothes on, hooking one finger in your thong to pull it aside.

You’re gleaming with your slick juices, your pussy flushed red with arousal. Jungkook just knows you’ll feel divine on his dick, but first he wants to lap you up.

And so he does, leaning forward to push his tongue between your folds. Your taste is heady, inebriating, and he grunts as one of your hands shoots to his head as if you’re trying to push him closer.

“Nu-uh,” he tuts, kneeling between your legs. He grabs your hands, puts them over your head, and then says, “Don’t move.”

He doesn’t break eye contact as he slowly unbuckles his belt, and then takes it off. Doesn’t break eye contact as he ties you up with it, making sure to not make it tight enough to hurt, but still tight enough to restrain your motions. 

Your breath is ragged when he sits back on his heels, tilting his head to the side as he smirks. “Now, if you move again, I’ll tie you up to the bed too, m’kay?”

You flash a lustful smile. “Maybe I’d like that.”

It turns him on far too much, his dick rock hard in his pants. He rubs himself, watches with manly contentment as you look down at him and bite at your bottom lip.

“Careful, baby,” he says. “If you’re too much of a brat, you’re not getting anything tonight.”

“As if you can resist me.”

He can’t. He knows he can’t, so he abstains from replying, instead choosing to make you regret your words. Indeed, he goes back to your pussy, pushing your underwear aside once more to blow a breath on your clit that makes you squirm slightly. He loves it, loves everything about how your body responds to his. Even more so as he dives in, circling your clit with the tip of his tongue before sucking on it lightly. You moan, somehow shy, and he looks up at you to see your jaw as your head is thrown back.

But you’re obeying, hands gripping at the pillow over your head, and Jungkook knows he’s got you right where he wants you to be. So he unleashes himself, feasts on you until your moans grow louder, his name intertwined with your pleasure. His dick hurts in his pants from lack of stimulation, and he starts palming himself as he eats you out, as your juices cover his chin.

Circles after circles around your clit lead to it growing sensitive, flushed with so much arousal he knows you’re teetering close to your orgasm. But he won’t give in yet, won’t let you come even though he thinks the sight will entrance him, will make him worship you like a goddess.

So instead, Jungkook pulls away, blowing another breath on your clit as you whine.

“Fuck, why’d you stop?” you complain.

He smirks, waiting for you to look down at him. 

“You think I’m just going to let you come like this?”

You clench your jaw, chest going up and down rapidly as if you’ve just sprinted down the street. “You’re a little shit, aren’t you?”

He bends down, bites at your clit lightly yet it makes you cry out in pleasure, and your hands shoot to his head. 

“What did I say about touching me?” he warns.

“Jungkook…”

“Hands up, baby,” he tells you, kneeling between your legs. “I think we have to tie you to the bed.”

You obey, yet Jungkook resists from restraining your movements further. Hell, he might want to edge you, but he also wants you to be a brat, to tell him how much you want it.

So he kisses you wild instead, lets you taste yourself on his lips as his hand lets go of your wrists where he’s pinned them over your head again. He trails his way down your side, lifting your shirt so that he can graze the skin of your stomach lightly, and you let out a breathy sound that he thinks might have been his name.

“What?” he asks.

“Touch me,” you say, eyes fluttering open to meet his. 

Your gaze is sex-crazed, a clear indication that he indeed denied you an orgasm, and Jungkook sits back on his heels. 

“Where?”

“Are you always like this?” you ask.

He nods. “Only with pretty girls like you.”

He doesn’t think you like the mention of other girls - he’s been with plenty of them, but evidently that’s not something you’d want to hear. So he decides to stop teasing, to finally let you ride the wave of your climax.

If only so that you stop looking disappointed. And so Jungkook brings his hand between your thighs, collecting your juices on two fingers before slipping them inside of you. 

You’re tight. Or maybe your walls just fight against him for a moment, relaxing the second he starts rubbing on your velvety spot. Your hips raise from the bed, your back arching as you moan loudly.

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you cry out.

“Feels good?”

“Yes.” You wet your lips, gaze meeting his. “Eat me out at the same time?”

He tilts his head to the side, the predator and you its prey. “Why should I?”

“I’ll suck your dick after.”

His dick twitches in his pants at your crude words, but Jungkook ignores it. “What makes you think I want that?”

“The fact that -” Your words are interrupted by a loud moan, your walls momentarily clenching around his fingers as he pushes them in and out of you quickly, his thumb rubbing on your clit. “That you came down my throat last time.”

He bends down to whisper against your lips. “Open your mouth, baby.”

You look like you want to fight him, but he knows you’re nearing your high. Indeed, your gaze has lost its focus, your cheeks are flushed red, and your breathing is ragged, so much so that he wonders if he should give you a break before fucking you.

When your lips part, Jungkook doesn’t hesitate before he spits in your mouth. You moan in answer, your walls fluttering on his digits.

“Fuck,” you curse. “I’m so close.”

He knows it. He knows it, because you’re growing impossibly tighter, and your eyes are screwed shut now, your eyebrows almost touching. So he gives in to your earlier desire, going back between your legs to wrap his lips around your clit.

He only has to suck on it once, teasing it with his tongue, for you to crash into your high, and you moan as you come, your walls pulsing on his fingers. You taste divine, like the ambrosia of the gods, and Jungkook laps you up, guides you through your orgasm. And it lasts a while, wave after wave after wave crashing into you until your thighs are shaking, instinctively closing around his head.

Only then does Jungkook pull away, looking down at your ruined panties as he slips his fingers out of you.

“Holy shit,” you let out, and the breathy laugh that follows makes Jungkook pause, eyes widening as he looks at you.

“Yeah?”

You nod. “Fuck. Yeah. That was…”

He toys on his piercing, everything in him waiting for the praise. But it doesn’t come, and his dick hurts in his pants, and all he wants is to bury himself deep in your hot wetness. So he moves away enough to remove his pants, and then he fists his cock, stroking himself as he waits for you to look at him. When you do so, he slowly takes off your underwear, never breaking eye contact, before kneeling between your legs again. 

“You think you can take me now?” he asks.

You look down at him, and your hands reach for him. As much as he wants you to touch him, he thinks he’s already close - if you were to suck him or jerk him off right now, he reckons he might come on the spot. So, once again, Jungkook pushes your hands over your head, but this time, he holds them in place before gently nudging your clit with the tip of his cock.

“Can you?” he asks.

“Can I?”

You sound confused, which he assumes might be because you’re fucked out from coming hard. So he kisses you once, pushing his tongue in your mouth lightly before he pulls away.

“Can I fuck you?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” you purr, and he loves that the brat is back.

Even more so as he rubs his dick between your folds, collecting your juices.

“You’re dripping wet, baby,” he says. “You always get this wet?”

You meet his gaze, biting at your lower lip. “What if I do?”

He starts pushing in, and you surprisingly hold onto the defiance, your smirk never fading. His, on the other hand, melts as he feels you for the first time, and you’re even better than anything he could have imagined.

“Then,” he lets out, pushing in inch by inch. He pulls back out for a second, and then pushes in again. “I better fuck you good until all you want is my dick, mmh?”

“Please.”

It’s the begging. It unravels the last of his restraint, and Jungkook pushes all the way in, grunting as he hits your cervix. He pulls out slightly as he surveys your features, aware that he might have hurt you, but you don’t look like you care.

No, your hips lift from the bed, trying to meet his, and so he starts pushing in and out, slowly at first if only to make sure you’re adjusted to his size. And when you moan his name for what might be the hundredth time but feels like the first, Jungkook increases his pace, increases the strength of his thrust until his headboard is banging into the wall.

He takes you in, takes the sight of you as you mewl from your pleasure, your walls sucking him in so good he thinks he sees stars. You’re heaven personified, his own nirvana, at least for the time that he’s fucking you.

Everything else fades away - his life, his fame, the NDA you signed that’s still on the counter. All there is is you and him, and the way that your bodies move like one. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this way while having sex. Hell, he reckons twenty years from now, he’ll still be thinking about this moment while he’s fisting his cock.

But for now, Jungkook tries to focus on the present. Tries to focus on the way you respond to his every motion, your walls clenching around him. His balls grow tight, a knot forming in his lower back as he tries not to come. It’s hard, but he manages to refrain from coming by slowing down, establishing a deeper rhythm that makes your eyes flutter open.

“I really want to touch you a bit,” you whisper.

It’s not said out of lust. There’s something else in your eyes, and Jungkook wonders if you feel like he does.

If you, too, will be thinking back on this moment twenty years down the line.

“Let me…” he trails off as he stops moving, and then he unties your wrists. 

Your arms immediately wrap around him, holding him close, and Jungkook likes it. Likes the way you lightly trace his back with your nails, and he winces as you slightly dig into his shoulders as he starts fucking you again.

“No marks,” he reminds you.

You whine, yet it morphs into a moan as he starts pounding into you again. His balls are tight, heavy, and he knows he’ll have to let himself go soon, yet he wants the moment to last just a little longer. Maybe that’s why he pulls out, flipping you on your belly. Why he takes a moment to massage your ass cheeks as you glance at him over your shoulder. Your hair is a mess, but it’s beautiful, in such a simple, feminine way that it stabs Jungkook in the chest.

Or that might be the way you’re looking at him - it’s hard to tell, and Jungkook decides to chase the vulnerability away by pushing inside of you, up until he feels your ass against him. And then he’s fucking you again, relentlessly, sweat dripping from his forehead. It falls on you, but you don’t look like you mind, and though it’s burning his eyes, he doesn’t care either.

All he cares about is the way is dick grows infinitely hard, and soon his motions grow sloppy. He focuses for a time, tries to hold it in, but then you say, “You’re so good, Jungkook”, and the praise sends him over the edge.

Jungkook slams all the way in, holding your waist tightly, and he comes deep inside of you, painting your insides white as your pussy clenches around him. He sees stars - galaxies and nebulas - and his body folds on itself until he’s got his forehead pressed to the side of your face. He thinks he might have moaned your name, moaned a silent prayer to your beauty, and the orgasm washes through him, erasing everything until he’s just a blank canvas.

It takes a long time for him to come down from his high. For his breathing to return to normal, for his blood to stop singing the song of you. Meanwhile, you’re just breathing in sync with him, your hand on his cheek - when did it get there? - as your thumb strokes idle lines on the side of his face. It’s intimate, and oh too vulnerable considering that you’re a fan, so Jungkook straightens, finally pulling out.

He watches his cum dripping out of you, the sight nearly enough to make him go feral again, but he takes a deep breath, reminding himself that, as much as he wants you, you’re still just a fan.

He’s never going to date you, is he?

But he can’t deny the attraction, or the way your body answers to his perfectly. So when you get ready to leave, later, Jungkook pulls you into a short embrace, kissing you slow as your hands rest flat on his chest. And then he pulls away so that he can meet your gaze as you look up at him.

His heart feels warm - he thinks his whole chest might slowly be catching fire. So, even though you’re just a fan, even though you probably shouldn’t, he whispers, “Can I see you again next week?”

Prev

☆☆☆☆☆

hope you guys enjoyed this... horny chapter haha jungkook finally got what he wanted with her... but he already wants more hehe let me know what you think of this chapter!

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

Taglist:

@pamzn | @chimchimmarie | @llallaaa | @backseatana | @xmspurple7x

@jadestonedaeho7

[dreamescapeswriting]

Cry Baby ~ JJK

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

GENRE: established relationships, cry baby reader, angst to comfort, jungkook being soft for her, apologising, begging jungkook,

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - September 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

The apartment felt as though it was stifling tonight, the air thick with frustration and you could barely feel like you could breathe as you stood there. You were standing by the kitchen counter, arms crossed tightly over your chest, watching as Jungkook paced back and forth across the living room. The two of you had started spatting with one another and it started as something small—a forgotten phone call.

He said he’d call, and he didn’t. But somehow, it had spiralled out of control, and now you’re both standing on opposite sides of the room, trying to make sense of the mess between you.

It wasn't like you were the couple to argue with each other all the time but this was something important to you. A simple phone call to let you know he was still alive after he went out on a dangerous fucking mission with his friends.

“It’s not just about the phone call, Jungkook!” you say, your voice shaking despite your best efforts to stay calm. Jungkook didn't scare you, hell, his bodyguards didn't scare you. But he worried you when he went out and never said anything, or came home late covered in blood.

“It’s about you not being here… even when you are here. I feel like I’m alone all the time. You’re always busy with work, or with the guys, or something else, and I just… I just miss you.” Your voice cracked a little as you admitted it out loud for the first time. You didn't want to come across as clingy or anything but you needed your feelings to be heard on this.

Jungkook stopped pacing, turning to look at you as he looked you up and down. There’s a flicker of frustration in his eyes, his jaw clenched as he struggles to find the right words.

“I’m doing the best I can, Y/N! I can’t just drop everything whenever you feel lonely, or need a cuddle.” The words cut through you like a hot knife through butter and it hurt but you try to hold yourself together. You didn't want to cry in front of him and give him another reason to be pissed off at you,

“I’m not asking you to drop everything. I’m asking you to see me. To make me feel like I matter to you.” Your eyes are stinging now, and you hate it. You hate that you’re on the verge of crying again because you know what’s coming. You cried a lot...A lot, a lot but you couldn't help it. You'd always been a big crier and you'd grown up being told never to hold them back.

“Why do you always have to cry about everything?” he says, his voice sharp, frustration clear in his tone.

“You’re such a crybaby, Y/N.” The words hit you like a slap to the face. You freeze, blinking back the tears that you desperately don’t want to let fall, but it’s too late. Your vision blurs as they spill over, and you quickly wipe them away, trying to keep your dignity intact. You could feel your throat forming that all too familiar lump inside of it before you whimpered a little and wiped your face.

You don’t say anything. You can’t, if you did you knew the tears would never stop so you took in a deep breath and shook your head, as if trying to shake the tears out of your system. Your chest felt tight, and all you wanted to do was get out of there. Before Jungkook can say anything more, you turn on your heel and head for the door,

“Y/N, wait—” you hear him call after you, but you don’t stop. You can’t. You keep walking, slamming the door behind you as you walk away from him. Your heart pounded inside of your chest as you walked away from Jungkook, ignoring the guard who banged on your car window to let him inside. There was no way you were going to let one of his men join you and report back to him on your every move.

The tears fall freely now, and you don’t even bother wiping them away. You just drove -away from the apartment, away from the hurt, away from Jungkook.

It had been hours since you left, and you’d found yourself at one of your favourite spots by the riverbank, sitting on a cold bench with your arms wrapped around yourself. It had been far too long since you'd had the chance to do something like this, always stopping yourself because of Jungkook claiming it was "dangerous" or you had a target on you now that you were dating him. But right now? You didn't care. The cold air and the calming aura were all you needed to make you feel better.

The night air is cool, and you shiver slightly, but you welcome the chill once you let relax your entire body and dry the tears from your cheeks.

You'd been ignoring all of Jungkook’s calls, eventually turning your phone off and leaving it in the car. You just… you needed space. You needed time to process what he said—what he called you.

A crybaby.

The word had been echoing in your mind, over and over again on the drive. You know you’re emotional, but that’s part of who you are, you thought Jungkook loved you for who you were. You had always felt things deeply, and it’s always been hard for you to hide that. And now, the person you love most in the world threw it back in your face like it was something to be ashamed of.

You were so lost in thought you hadn't even heard his car parking up before he approached you until he was standing in front of you, kneeling down on the grass to look up at you. His face is shadowed in the dim light, but you can still see the worry in his eyes.

“Y/N,” he says softly, his voice almost a whisper. You glance at him briefly before looking away, not ready to face him yet. Your heart feels too heavy, too raw. You could already feel the tears burning again and your throat starting to lump up. He shifts closer to you, his voice cracking slightly as he speaks again.

“Please… look at me,” he begged, his voice cracking as he spoke. He'd spent the last few hours trying to find you, refusing to let you go.

Reluctantly, you meet his gaze. His expression is full of regret, and the sight of him looking so broken tugs at something inside you, but you shove it down. Not yet. You’re not ready to let him off the hook that easily.

“Why are you here, Jungkook?” you whispered, your voice sounding more detached than you felt. You weren't about to let him get away with what he did, you wanted him to feel like shit, so he could feel how you felt right now.

“Shouldn’t you be busy with your schedule? Or with the guys? You made it pretty clear that my feelings are just… too much for you.” You snapped a little harsher than you had wanted. The guilt on his face spread and he reached out for your hand, but you pulled it back from him. The mere act had him flinching at the rejection, it wasn't like you to reject any of his touches. For a moment, you almost feel bad, but then you remember the sting of his words, and the walls around your heart harden again.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he says, his voice thick with emotion, dropping down onto the wet grass not caring about if his suit got ruined.

“I didn’t mean what I said earlier. I was frustrated, and overwhelmed, and I took it out on you. But that doesn’t make it okay. I know I hurt you… and I’m so, so sorry.” He stared at you, waiting for you to say something, anything but you didn't. You sit in silence, staring out at the water as it flows steadily in front of you. Part of you wants to forgive him right away, to ease the ache in your chest. But the other part of you—the part that’s still hurting—holds back. You’re afraid that if you let him in too soon, it’ll happen again. And next time, it might hurt even more.

"Say something...A-Anything, baby, scream at me, yell at me...hit me, anything, please." He begged as he looked at you.

“I hate when you do that,” you say softly, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water.

“I hate when you make me feel like I’m too much. Like my feelings are a burden to you.” You finally whisper as you look over at him. His eyes were already on you. Jungkook’s breath hitches, and you can see the tears gathering in his eyes. He looks so vulnerable in this moment, and it almost breaks you but you don't let it. You weren't going to let this go so easily.

“You’re not a burden, Y/N. Never,” he says, his voice trembling. It wasn't like Jungkook to show this kind of vulnerability with anybody, you were the only person he allowed himself to break down in front of. Ever.

“I swear, you’re the most important person in my life. I just… sometimes I get so caught up in everything else that I forget to show you how much you mean to me. But you do mean everything to me. I’m nothing without you.” His words hang in the air between you, and for the first time tonight, you see just how much he’s hurting, too. He’s not perfect, neither are you.

“I’m not ready to just… forget what happened,” you admit quietly, looking down at your hands. Swallowing the lump that was forming in your throat,

“You really hurt me, Jungkook.”

“I know,” he says softly, inching closer his shoulders touching yours now but you didn't move away, you let him be close.

“And I don’t expect you to just forget. But I promise you, I’ll do better. I’ll be better for you. I’ll make it up to you every day if I have to. Just… please don’t shut me out. Let me take you home, let me make this better.” He pleaded with you, his hand itching to touch you but he kept himself at bay.

You finally look up at him, searching his face for any sign of insincerity, but all you see is the man you fell in love with. The one who would do anything to make things right.

The man who hadn't stopped begging you for a date, showing up every single day to your workplace until you finally agreed to a date. The same man that on your anniversary books out your favourite hotel so the two of you can be alone. So you can wander around lost in a hotel for hours - sometimes days - at a time. The man who had stopped at nothing to make you smile when you'd broken your arm last year in a ski accident.

And despite the hurt you felt, despite the anger, you believed him.

“Do you really mean that?” you ask, your voice softer than it had been earlier.

“Every single fucking word, princess,” he whispers, reaching for your hand again. This time, you let him take it, and the warmth of his touch soothes the dull ache in your chest. His thumb gently strokes your knuckles, and you feel a tiny flicker of hope start to grow inside you.

You let out a shaky breath, nodding slowly.

“Okay,” you say quietly.

“But you better mean it, Jeon Jungkook, or I'm not coming back next time.” You warn him. He lets out a soft laugh, even as his eyes glisten with tears. He leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles, his breath warm against your skin.

“I do,” he promises, his voice full of love and sincerity. “I swear...Let me drive you home," He stands up, reaching out for your hand once again and helping you up to your feet.

"What about my car-" You stopped as you turned around to see it was already missing from where you had parked it, turning back to Jungkook you saw him smiling at you sheepishly.

"You were that sure I'd forgive you?" You didn't know whether to be mad or not at him for this but he shook his head,

"I was taking away your choice, either I drove you or we walked together," He smirks before you kiss him softly, his smirk slowly turning to a smile as he pulls you into a tight embrace.

@chiisaiblog@sw33tnight@kaitieskidmore97@laylasbunbunny@tinyoonsblog@whitefoxgirl@katnisspeetaprim@acciocriativity@choisoorin@heyjiminnie@btsiguess-kpop@halesandy@gothic4under4lord@soulphoenix1618@aerastus@jin-from-the-block@lenfilms@elizaschuyler18@piratequeen-impact @Namgiswifey@delulu18@xyahrinx@katsukis1wife@anthropologymajorkpopmultistan@blairscott@4-chan-inpadella@swga-ficrecs@niktwazny303@armystay89@myyouthdonut@xakx@kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy@kpopmenace143@loveforred@b1nn1e-1s-cut3@elissasimp @royallyjjk @parkjennykim @piercedddriver

[marthawrites]

Could you write smut for Aemond targaryen with the prompts 17,40,44,47,53 and 54 maybe with a targaryen reader? Just something gentle, sweet and soft <3 btw I’m talking abt this prompt list

I absolutely can! Apologies for making you wait since January for this. I hope you're still around to see (and, fingers crossed) enjoy it!

"Vok" (Perfect)

Aemond Targaryen x sister reader

Word count: 2.6k+

About: You and Aemond pledged to each other long ago. Tonight, beneath the blanket of darkness, you revel in each other's adoration.

Includes: SMUT. Featuring brother x sister incest, Aemond is soft but only to his little sister, dirty talk, female masturbation, guided masturbation, praise, unprotected vaginal sex, and a splash of breeding kink

Note: Hello lovely reader! It's been a hot minute since I've wrote Aemond - the posters and trailers have me going (affectionately) insane! Triple warning: this fic is brother x sister targcest. If you do not like that KEEP ON SCROLLING. This is my first time writing this dynamic. Reader is implied to have silver hair, pale skin, and purple eyes. Everything else is up to you! As always, I hope you enjoy this fic! ❤️

-

To the realm, Aemond Targaryen was the cruel prince. Aloof, stoic, unforgiving.

To the realm, he was an ambitious and willful young man who rode Vhagar, the largest and oldest dragon in the world–the same dragon who helped Queen Visenya conquer Westeros.

To the realm, he was the second son of King Viserys. And, as such, would play the game of nobility by putting duty above love–marrying outside of his Targaryen lineage to seed dragons further into the world.

To you, his little sister and second daughter of King Viserys, he was your protector. 

Your secret.

A poorly kept secret in some corners of the castle; nosy servants and their obnoxious fucking tendencies. But, with Aemond’s less than idle threats about cutting the tongue out of anyone’s throat who would speak about it, it ended up being a well-kept secret.

The second son and second daughter of the Dragon King; who better to love, and cherish, and pledge to, than each other?

Aemond would sooner die than see you marry off to some lowly lord of a “great” House. You were the blood of Old Valyria. Everyone–no matter their feats–was lowly in comparison to you. And you, his sweet sister, deserved only the best.

Barely a year separated your ages. Neither of you remembered a life without the other.

Long before you gave your maidenhead to your brother you gave him your heart. And your heart he held.

-

The night was late. These dark hours were some of the only unadulterated times you had together. Aemond kissed you slowly, passionately, gently stroking along your cheeks with his thumbs as he did. You were tangled in his bed together. You, stripped down to only your shift, and him, stripped down to only his sleep trousers. One of your shift’s thin straps kept sliding down your shoulder, and each time it did Aemond’s warm mouth kissed over the smooth lovely skin. You panted soft sounds–each feminine simper jolting right to his cock–as he lavished you in affection. 

“You’re kissing me silly, lēkia (brother). My head feels full of bees and I’m hot. So, so hot,” you whispered against his kiss-swollen mouth. “Will you not feel for yourself?” He hadn’t yet made a move to touch you where you really, truly, wanted him; something that had you whining and pouting. While his hands alternated between stroking your face and groping your body–waist, hips, thighs–yours were buried in his hair. It was all down and free. The silken sheet of it spilled over his shoulders, spilled over you, and you relished the feel of it inside your hands. Against your bare skin. “Please?”

“Please what, hāedar? (little sister)” He asked, voice mellow with just the right amount of rumble from his chest.

“Please touch me,” you answered, back naturally arching to press your soft body against the hard planes of his own.

Another low sound came from him. He pressed a warm, wide palm up the perfect curve of your back until he squeezed into the nape of your hair. “Such a pretty word from a pretty mouth. Have my kisses made you ache with need, byka zaldrīzes (little dragon)?”

“Yes.” The single word, its single syllable, rolled off your tongue before your brain even fully registered his question. You stared at him desperately. One eye was so beautiful; so ancient in its color and proclamation, just like your own. The other reflected faceted edges of the sapphire he wore in place of his missing eye. You didn’t know which was more enchanting.

“How long can you go, hm? Without me touching you?”

“W-what?”

He laughed. A rumble beneath his pale, taut chest. “How long before you succumb to madness by me not touching your perfect cunny?”

“Aemond…,” you whined. Pitiful. “Not much longer! Please, lēkia, I need you, please.”

A serpent’s grin curved his mouth and darkened his eye as he shifted positions with you. Now, he sat upright with his back against his headboard and pulled you to sit in front of him. 

You nestled between his legs, your back flush with his chest, and his stiff cock rested against the small of your back. A blush bloomed beneath your cheeks. You knew lust ran as wild in his veins as it did in yours.

“Tell me, sweet sister…,” he started, whispering by your ear. Both his hands cupped and squeezed over your breasts. Their softness melted against his palms and he groaned at the sensation. Perfect. You were so fucking perfect. “Have you touched yourself to peak before?”

A stammer replaced the little mewl in your throat. “H-how do you mean?”

He laughed again, pinching your nipples. “Mm… are you sure?”

Lust and need and fire roared in your blood to the point of almost drowning everything else out. “I d-don’t understand,” you admitted. But, it was a lie. You knew what he meant. You could only hope he’d go easy on you so you wouldn't have to admit, prove, or say you knew what he spoke of.

“Why are you playing shy with me, hāedar? I think you know exactly what I mean. There is no shame in it,” he spoke sly, hands pushing the hem of your shift up until he held the material in a fist upon your abdomen. With his other hand he tugged your smallclothes down your bare legs, tossing them off. The flats of all his fingers ghosted over your exposed cunt. Testing you. Feeling you. He hissed an inward breath. “Fuck–”, he growled. “‘Tis a good thing I was born a prince. Gods know if I had this wet little cunt between my thighs I wouldn’t get anything done. Ever. For how often I’d fuck myself silly on my own fingers.”

Aemond’s vulgarity sent a coil of tension wringing in your belly. Slick arousal pooled hotter beneath his touch. Your clit throbbed–the little pearl silently screaming for attention. “Yes,” you breathed, shuddering.

“Yes, what?”

Your older brother wasn’t going easy on you. “Yes. I… I know what you speak of. And.. yes, I do. Sometimes…,” you admitted with a wave of embarrassment.

Somehow he grew harder against the small of your back. He throbbed. “Show me,” he demanded.

“What! Aemond, no. Please, please, please no. Don’t make me show you.” Mortification replaced your previous embarrassment. Yet, your spine quivered with another rush of liquid arousal.

“I would love nothing more than to see how you bring yourself pleasure. Do you think of me when you do, byka zaldrīzes?”

You nodded. Dizziness warbled your brain. 

“Such a sweet perfect thing,” he cooed. He'd felt that nervous energy tense you. He also saw the exquisite thrum of your pulsepoint beneath your neck, too. Two sides of the same coin: carnal desire. When he spoke again it dripped with wicked passion. “Don’t be nervous, I'll guide you through it.”

It had been quite some time since you last brought yourself to climax all on your own. Aemond was always more than eager to give you pleasure. Tonight, however, something was different. Idly you wondered what it could be. Before you thought about it too much, Aemond guided your dominant hand to that delicate space between your thighs. You gasped at the sensation of your own touch. Torture never felt so divine. Your little bud sang as you circled it, rubbed over it. You sighed sweetly. “How did you make me so wet?”

It took controlled effort to not spill himself across your back at that very moment. “Spread your legs for me, princess. Let me see and hear what you’re doing.”

You obeyed. With your legs spread wider, now, it was all the easier to resume your previous motions. Flicking and rubbing over your bud felt divine–excited little sounds already spilled from your mouth. You ached inside, too, wanting–needing–to be stretched around something. The memory of Aemond's long fingers pumping into you while his thumb claimed your clit had your face hot. You couldn't reach those same spots he could. You bit your bottom lip, whimpering.

Aemond watched from above with a hungry lecherous eye. Beneath your shift he could see your breasts, slope of belly… and then further below, your creamy thighs spilled wide open. Fuck–he was so hard his back hurt. Your girlish sounds sent his desire blazing. “Your little clit is so achy, isn’t it? I know how much you like it played with,” he said by your ear. “Do you ever go inside?”

You nodded, allowing your head to fall back against his shoulder. You stayed on your pearl, still, legs tensing with bliss as it warmed and tingled your blood.

“Show me,” he growled again. “Be a good girl. And afterward? Don’t worry, I'll take care of you. Promise.” 

Without hesitation you pushed two of your fingers into your warmth. Your body squeezed around the intrusion, inner walls flexing, trying to pull them in deeper. A gasped moan left your parted lips. “I-I’ve never done this before.” You’ve never shown anyone this before is what you meant. Aemond knew what you meant.

“I know. Shh… it’s okay, I'll guide you through it.” He gently touched the top of your hand and relished your little tendons flexing with the effort of your self pleasure. He pushed–coaxing your fingers deeper, silently urging you along. More. 

Soon the wet sounds of your hand against pink swollen flesh mingled with your moans. Lewd. Dirty. You tried to stay quiet. You really did. But it felt too good, and Aemond’s hand on yours guiding you along had your toes curling. Of course he would help you. Of course he wouldn’t let you do it all on your own. “Aem..!,” you whimpered, hips rocking with your movements. “‘M close.”

“I got you,” he whispered, voice heavy.

As soon as your fingers found that little patch of hidden nerves along your walls, you weren’t able to hold on much longer. The bliss, all at once, became too much. Tension snapped in your belly as colors flashed behind your closed eyelids. Your legs trembled at the tip of your peak, and as you crested downwards Aemond held you tighter against him.

“Vok (perfect),” he said as he watched you. How perfect you were with your silver hair framing your face. How perfect you looked when ecstasy became too much. How fucking perfect your eyes were as they opened and locked on his, bright and glassy with excitement. 

You carefully pulled your fingers free and began to turn around to face him. Before you could, however, he held you tighter against him. Confusion furrowed your brow and whatever you were about to say was cut off by his impatience.

“I’m greedy, byka zaldrīzes. Go on, one more time. I know you can do it. Show me again how you peak.”

Without arguing you again settled back against him. You planted your feet along the outside of his legs, spilling your thighs open wider than they were before. You angled your hips to the perfect position and this time a third finger joined your previous two. This time you fucked yourself without shame–not that you held on to it long in the first place.

Aemond all but snarled behind you, absolutely ravenous at the sight of three of your little fingers pumping and curling up into your body. He moved a hand downward, too, and the pads of those fingers worked over your clit in time with your pumps.

“Gods! Aem–!” You quivered against him. The addition of his lascivious attention had your hips squirming. Wanton moans, no longer trying to stay quiet, had your mind blanking. Nothing existed outside of you and Aemond. Nowhere existed outside of the spaces in which your bodies touched. Climax found you faster this time. Your second orgasm had you crumbling against him. Sweat sheened your brow. Your face bloomed. Sated. You were wholly sated.

“Good girl,” he praised. “Such a good girl. Giving me exactly what I wanted,” he kissed you, stealing your lips in a kiss that had you floating all over again. You could have fallen asleep right there in his arms and been the happiest thing in the realm. Breaking away, he added, “now I’ve a promise to make up to you, hm?”

Honestly, you’d forgotten about it. But, now that he mentioned it, your belly did a silly little flop.

With great care, Aemond moved from behind you and stood. Offering a hand to you, he said, “take your clothes off and lay on your back.”

And with that, you both finally shed the last pieces of your clothing. 

Laying like he said, you leaned back on your elbows to prop yourself up to still see your brother. Spilled messy hair, tall lean body littered with nicked scars, sapphire eye on full display…hard cock blushed angry red with need. They say Targaryen’s are closer to Gods than men, and with the hearth’s orange light reflecting on his ivory form, you believed him to be a God.

Aemond thought the same about you as you laid there bathed in the moonlight and hearthlight. 

“Spread your legs for your lēkia, I want to see you.”

As soon as you did–proudly showing off the slick mess of two climaxes, Aemond pumped along his rigid length. Despite butterflies twirling in your belly, your smile up at him was purely feline.

To Aemond’s credit, his voice only broke slightly when he said, “get on your hands and knees.”

You did. You dipped your spine as low as it could comfortably go, propping your ass up for him. As much as he loved fucking you with your legs wrapped around his waist, you knew he loved this position, too. “Māzigon va, lēkia (come on, brother),” you purred. “Keep to your promise.”

In an instant one of his hands squeezed harshly into the fat of your hip while the other spread the meat of your ass apart. He planted one foot firmly on the bed, and the other stayed rooted on the ground. The position gave him more leverage, and power, and control as he loomed above you. With a flex of his entire abdomen he pushed forward; the hot stretch of your body around him had both of you gasping. “I plan on leaving a babe in your belly tonight, hāedar. That way mother will have no other choice than to wed us,” he groaned, pulling backwards only to snap his hips against the smooth underside of your cheeks once again. And again.

You fisted the sheets as Aemond fucked you. You moaned your delight at his words, nodding. “Yes, please,” you panted. “Faster,” you begged.

His thrusts were precise and brutal. The slap of your smacking skin was utterly depraved and you hated–no, loved–how it made you impossibly wetter. Aemond did too. “Already squeezing around me? Fuck–I’m not going to last much longer,” he said, strained.

You began to push back against him, meeting his thrusts halfway with a frenzied need to make him release. “Fill me. Fill me up, Aem,” you still begged, breathing heavily. 

He rutted against you with the same need–a primal haze taking over as his stones began to tighten. His fingers dented firmly into your flesh as he continued plunging in and out of you. Instinct to spill his seed built by the moment and soon he became sloppy. He grunted and growled, and with a final shove–cock buried as deep as it could be inside your walls–he spent against your body’s end. Pulse after mighty pulse emptied his spend into you. Stray strands of hair stuck to a sheen of sweat upon his forehead.

You joined him in peak; left boneless and exhausted after three orgasms. Even at the top of your bliss, and his, he never eased until you were both done.

Aemond pulled his softening length out from you and urged you to fall forward upon his bed. You followed his motion and happily laid there. Naked, glowing, and full. You reached a hand out to pull him to you. “Avy jorrāelan (i love you).”

Aemond easily settled next to you, scooping you into him. “Avy jorrāelan tolī (i love you too),” he said between slow, satisfied kisses.

-

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

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Masterlist

Main taglist: @watercolorskyy @melsunshine @girlwith-thepearlearring @arcielee @barbiedragon @targaryen-dynasty @succnfuccubus @fan-goddess @schniiipsel

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[lady-ashfade]

A Son For A Son

´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Deamons Bastard!Reader x Yan!Team black. Pt.2

╰･ﾟ✧☽ first fic here.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ summary: the queen has given a order, and craving revenge you expect.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ words: 1k

╰･ﾟ✧☽ warnings: blood & gore, murder and death, reader killing, reader being her father, uncanon events, poison, I just needed to make this.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ DONT READ IF YOU WANNA BE SPOILED: reader does in fact kill aemond in this and idk if you are happy about it, I want his head to take to my queen.

“I want Aemond Targaryen.” she stood before the council covered in dirt and who knows what.

It had been two weeks since the letter about the death of Lucaerys had arrived and you all had been the worst for it. and ever since she searched and searched for a sign of truth, desperate to be wrong. that her sweet boy was alive. you knew he was dead and you wanted everyone to pay for taking luke. you wanted aemond targaryen to pay. you took anger out on the ones you could, or roamed the sky’s to get your mind off of things. you would not act without her orders.

The resemblance you shared to daemon was close and terrifying for your foes. just as you had the idea to fulfill her wishes, your father did too.

“I don’t know what you’re planning,” the sound of your voice made his shoulders fall and a smirk appear on his face, one you couldn’t see. a dark cloak draped over his shoulders and matched the same one across your frame. “but I have a better one.”

“No.” you glare at the back of his head. again denied something worth your talents.

“You can’t tell me what do to this time father.” standing your ground as his eyes turn around, a look he uses when he’s serious. and for him it was like looking into a mirror, you carved blood just like he did and loved getting to spill it. even for no reason at all.

“I have waited around for a task, and she has said she wants Aemond. I mourn the loss of my brother too, and you can not keep me from whatever it is that you think you’re protecting me from.”

Hundreds of men died at the end of your blade at night as you slip throughout the shadows. you were a slayer, a assassin who followed your own roles but loved coin and the game. a story to tell children to make them weep and fear the dark. so how could he still think you are not ready.

“I have let you do what you needed, patrol the blockade against my wishes. or fly alone when our enemies wait to make us weaker” he lectures, “and I will not let them take you.” for a moment you saw a regular father begging for his daughter to stay safe. you aren’t just a daughter now but a soldier in war.

“I would never let them take me,” you step closer and give him a smug look, “I am your daughter after all.”

Instead of going himself, daemon sends you, for the head of the copycat prince.

the castle gates are easy to slip passed with the help of a guard who shares your hatred for the hightowers. and many times, you slip into the keep without getting caught.

“Something told me you’d be here,” his eye glanced at you amused from the cough as his fingertips spin a coin. “It’s as if the gods made me stay here.” aemond unfolded his legs and leaned forward on his knees. many years you hated the way he spoke to you like a interest of his to be claimed like his bitch dragon.

“Then the gods agree you’ll die tonight.”

aemond waited for this moment to finally fight you. he wanted to win and keep you forever as a trophy, a wife who was like him and everyone feared without a doubt. he wasn’t a fool, you are a skilled killer and he needed to bring his all. and some skills stayed in the dark.

a slice in his chest, in his leg and cheek aren’t as bad as he thought when he had you pinned down onto the table. the cold feeling of metal as his hands wrapped around your throat was refreshing. you didn’t try and fight back as he took your breath because the fight was won as soon as it started.

And he should have known you couldn’t be this sloppy.

curling lips up into a devil’s smirk, looking into his eye he feels himself weakened and his grip loosen. the power of letting a man win and wiping all power from beneath their feet was riveting and a hobby. Aemond leaned back and placed his weight onto the couch while trying to keep composure. “You honestly think i wouldn’t have a plan? Make my own rules?” you raise a brow and rub the sore skin of your neck, inching closer while standing up yourself.

“Silent reaper is the name they whisper about me, come in quickly without notice. I always kill my enemies without them awake, but you,” you point and lean down as his eyes become bloodshot, “I want to feel the most pain. And I will enjoy it.” within a few minutes his body starts to leak its own blood. he was quickly taken to death of course, you couldn’t hear his pleads but you’ll satisfy with his death.

guards fall silent when they watch you walk through the halls they don’t even announce your name. white locks lace your fingers and the weight of his head was little and you look like your father with the proud eyes of what you did. the sounds of your footsteps cause the council to glance over but stay with shock. non of them expected to see that and much less out of no where. though, your father seemed pleased and chuckled at the sight.

“The head of Prince Aemond Targaryen, your Grace.” Walking past Jace you set the bloody head on the table as people gawk and flinch. “the poison was my idea, hope you don’t mind.” a second later you yawn of exhaustion and boredom. you look at rhaenrya as her eyes glossed with the revenge you took for her.

“If you’ll excuse me, the ride back was tiring and I wish to get back to my book.” bowing down you flash a “polite” smile and walk away to your chambers with pride and a hand rested on your blade. with everyone wondering what else you would do for the queen,

Your mother.

[wearywinchester]

Wrong Turn

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When a fight with Dean leads you to take a breather, what was supposed to be a quick walk turns into something more.

Requested by Anonymous: “Hi <3 Can you write a Dean x Reader, they are in a relationship but they have a nasty fight one night, reader goes outside for a walk to take a breath but there is a storm and it's raining bad and she just gets lost and Dean freaks out when she doesn't come back? Angst and fluff please.”

Warnings: angst, arguing, swearing, mentions of blood, injury, anxiety, fluff

Tempers were well beyond their limit, a seemingly ongoing theme of the entirety of that day, stretching all the way through to that evening. Dean’s anger was never a surprise, not when it came to those that he held closest to himself. He can’t help it, never could. He gets himself so tightly wound with the ever growing desire to keep everyone safe, to keep everyone no further than arms length. He gets himself so worked up that he bursts, let’s that anger gush out of him in bouts of swearing and strings of words he almost always regrets later.

Tonight was no exception, not even close. It just might’ve been the worst fight the two of you have had in quite some time.

“I can’t believe you,” Dean says behind you, the motel door slamming shut faster than you can turn around to see him shove it closed with his boot.

“Believe what, that I did my job?” You say.

He was fuming, you could hear it in his voice. It was gruff and his words were sharp, an edge to it that wasn’t present most of the time. There was no humor, voice of that sweeter side you’ve always loved. It was filled with anger and frustration, deepened with irritation.

He chuckled, empty and humorless at the words that fell from your mouth and into the tense space. Did your job. To him, that was quite possibly the most ridiculous thing you could’ve ever said in your life given the context. The stupidest even.

That chuckle was so beyond bitter as he looked at you with a narrowed stare, those beautiful green eyes the angriest you’d ever seen them. Not at all soft as they most often were, not at all gazing at you with an adoration you can never ever fathom comes from looking at you. That loving gaze is replaced with the utmost of frustration as he stares you down, brows knit together.

“Doing your job? That’s what you’re calling it?” He says, laughter in his words as he tosses his duffel bag on the bed harshly, some of its contents spilling out of the half zippered opening. “Since when is putting your ass on the line to lore a damn monster a ten times stronger than you doing your job?”

You roll your eyes at his words, at the way he raised his voice. You wanted to say you couldn’t believe what you were hearing but that’d be a lie. It was Dean Winchester after all, you expected it.

“We hunt monsters for a living, Dean. Did you think I was just going to sit back and watch it kill somebody else? You would’ve done the same thing if I didn’t beat you to it,” you argue.

His cheeks were tinged a soft shade of pink, only making the freckles spattered on his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose all the more noticeable. Dean doesn’t flush, not unless he’s angry, not unless he’s pissed. And there he stands, pink and rosy with his jaw tensed as tight as ever as he looks at you, looks at you till he can’t anymore in an effort to calm himself down.

“I wouldn’t do something that damn stupid,” he says, his gaze returning to you.

“You would and you have, Dean, don’t give me that,” you say, watching his top lip quiver in anger. “Every hunt you do something reckless and stupid and everyone’s supposed to be okay with your self sacrificing way of handling things because you think you’re doing what’s best. You always put your ass on the line in a million and one different ways, but when I do it it’s stupid? That’s a load of crap and you know it, Dean.”

You’ve raised your own voice now, watching his chest rise and fall heavier and heavier as he wipes his hand over his mouth.

“Y/n—”

“No, tell me, Dean. How is that fair?”

“You don’t—”

“How is it fair, Dean?” You’re damn near yelling, body tense and the pit of your stomach filled with a heat that travels to your cheeks, burning hot as you swim in your anger.

“You can’t just go running around painting yourself as bait every chance you get. You don’t know what the hell you’re getting into, and you damn sure don’t know what you’re doing,” he counters, his gaze unwavering.

“Don’t know what I’m doing? I’ve been in this nightmare of a gig just as long as you have, and I’m still swingin’. Don’t you dare say that I don’t know what I’m doing,” you say.

You’re livid, cheeks on fire as you stare him down, finally thinking to release the handles of your duffel bag that’d been trapped within the tightness of your grasp long enough for your hand to be sweaty, long enough that your fingernails left crescent shaped indentations on your palm.

“God, do you even hear yourself when you talk, Y/n?” There’s that bitter laugh again, humorless as he rubs his hand down his face.

Now it’s your turn to laugh, an action that pulls his gaze back to you.

“Then maybe you should look in the mirror, Dean. Tempting your own fate and looking death right in the face seems to be your thing,” you retort, watching his brows scrunch even tighter together.

His lips part, finger raising to point at you with a slight tremble before it drops back to his side and he’s almost at a loss for words. Almost, as he shakes his head.

“You know what, Y/n? I’m not the one with a damn gash on my forehead. I’m not the one walking around with a torn off piece of my flannel tied around my hand to stop the bleeding. I’m not the one walking around, doing a piss poor job hiding a freaking limp because I’m too damn proud to admit I did something stupid. So tell me, Y/n, is it really just my thing?”

Your chest was heaving at this point, whole body trembling with adrenaline as you stare up at him with as much anger as you could muster. You could feel that strain in your throat, that horrid soreness that came with the ever difficult battle to keep that lump from rising and allowing your voice to break. That stupid lump that accompanied the tears that pressed so adamantly behind your eyes that it burned, that it stung.

He had you angry, blood boiling as you stood there in front of him. He was no different, standing there with a jaw clenched so tightly you thought his teeth would damn near crack. He had a certain anger in his eyes, anger mixed with something you couldn’t quite place as you stared him down for as long as you could muster.

He always knew how to poke and prod, get under your skin. He was stubborn more than anyone you’d ever known, probably more than anyone that could exist. He was Dean Winchester.

“You’re a dick, Dean,” you say, all the venom and hurt you can muster in those four words. As much as you could even though it felt like your throat was on fire. Felt as though barbed wire was woven around it from all the built up pressure of the tears you’re trying to hold back to keep him from seeing.

There’s that laugh again, that same bitter laugh as he hears your words.

“Yeah? You act like you’re so tough, Y/n, like you’re the best damn hotshot hunter there is. You act like you know everything and you sure as hell don’t so get off your damn high horse before you do something even more stupid and get yourself dead.”

He was shouting by this point, brows knit and eyes narrowed as he stared at you with twice the anger than a minute ago and he was only met with the same look. The very same apart from the welled up tears and the wobbly lip you sunk your teeth into to try and hide it the very best you could. You couldn’t.

You couldn’t keep your facade up, not in front of him. You never could. It was damn near impossible as you stood there until you couldn’t anymore, spinning on your heel. You brushed past him, shoulder bumping him and nearly throwing you off balance as you head for the motel door.

“Where are you going?” He asks, his tone incredulous.

“Away from you. What’s it look like?”

You grab the door handle and can hear him scoff as you swing it open and at first he doesn’t think you’re serious, not as he chuckles and shakes his head, maybe to egg you on even.

He doesn’t think you’re serious even as you slam the door shut behind you, and maybe not even for a few minutes after that. But after that few minutes it doesn’t seem so funny anymore, it never did, especially not when you didn’t walk right back in. He doesn’t think it’s funny when he swings that motel door right back open to find the parking lot empty, the Impala void of your presence—to find you nowhere to be seen.

He stands there for a moment with a clenched jaw, anger pulsing through him that’s rapidly redirecting towards himself. But he simply steps back into the room and slams the door shut behind him so hard it rattled. Ran his hands through his hair and drug them down his face.

But he doesn’t move, too steeped in his own anger to go on after you as you walked along by yourself in an effort to cool yourself down.

It was cold out, that steady drizzle still coming down but bearable enough to keep on walking away from that motel and away from the man that’s got you all fired up.

Your cheeks were heated and your heart was still pounding. That horrible pressure behind your eyes of unshed tears had finally broken loose, hot tears rolling and mixing with chilly raindrops on your skin. Your face was scrunched in a way you couldn’t help even if you tried as you let them out, frustratedly wiping them away as if there was still a chance of the older Winchester seeing them.

You loved him, but god, you hated him sometimes. He was too protective for his own good, too angry. He’s got you so wound up you don’t know whether to scream, cry, or never turn back to that motel room again. Or perhaps all three. But you know you’d never actually run off. That may be exactly what you’re doing right now but you’d always find your way back to him.

He’s got a heart of gold but you’re too damn pissed to want to think about that right now.

He’s in that room by himself, Sam in the room next door. He’s in that room stewing in anger and regret for the things he’d said out of that anger. He’s beating himself up for that unshakable habit of saying things he comes to regret. He wants to rip that motel room apart, wants to go looking for you. He wants to do it all but instead he sits on the edge of that squeaky motel bed for a matter of seconds before he gets right back up again, splashing his face off with cool water in the bathroom sink. But instead he stays in that motel room, his remaining anger leaving him spiteful before that guilt trickles in.

It’s cold, damn it’s cold as you walk along the tattered sidewalk. The pavement is cracked and crumbling away at the edges, gravel spilling over from old parking lots you pass by. You’ve got no idea where you’re going, and no idea where you are. Of course you don’t, you’ve never been to this town in your entire life and it’s near in the middle of nowhere.

You were wandering around this little town and it quickly began to feel not so little as you continued on in a direction that surely wasn’t towards that motel.

Your heart was beating a mile a minute and you were almost too angry to care about your surroundings. So worked up that you felt damn near invincible, didn’t really care about any threats because that anger was enough of a driving force to keep you safe.

But that couldn’t be farther from the truth, not even a little. Because deep down, under all that anger, you realized maybe this wasn’t the best idea.

He’s an idiot. He’s such a damn idiot that you almost couldn’t bear it. He always did this. He always tried to bench you, to hold you back on hunts. He always tried to jump in and save the day, always stole your thunder. He treated you like some rookie hunter that constantly needs a watchful eye, that constantly needs to be supervised like you don’t know what your doing. He acts like you’re some rookie hunter that couldn’t go two seconds on their own without getting into some life threatening situation.

He acts like it’s the end of the world when you step in, when you do something risky for the sake of keeping people safe. He blows it so far out of proportion, makes it seem like you couldn’t possibly do anything more stupid when he does the same and more. He does the very same every single time without second thought, but when you do it, there’s no greater crime to commit than doing your job.

He was so hypocritical it drove you insane.

You were a mess of emotions, fury and upset knotted in the pit of your stomach. It burned and it sat heavy, made you want to scream till your throat was sore. But you decided against it, didn’t want to draw attention to yourself more than you already felt you were as you walked alone through the empty street.

Your chest felt tight, your frustration having you ready to burst and that even felt like it wouldn’t be relieving enough. It felt like your emotions were too big for you to handle.

You were angry, you were pissed. You felt everything all at once, all of it as the wind picked up. It was more than noticeable as the gusts took your breath away for a moment, distracting you for just a second.

You knew the weather was bound to worsen, you saw the flashes of lightning beyond the street lights. You heard the low rumble of the thunder that followed it. It wasn’t until the drizzle of rain picked up to a steady pour that the storm you knew was brewing was fully there. You were caught outside and damn near lost in the middle of a freaking storm.

Unbeknownst to you, Dean was worried, of course he was. He’d be worried even if there wasn’t a stupid storm letting loose.

God, you hated him sometimes, but you loved him too.

You were stubborn as hell, stubborn enough to let yourself walk along a bit further and doom yourself even more. To keep on going and getting yourself even more lost and upset as the tears on your cheeks mixed with the rain. You walked until you wore yourself down and it took some doing, your anger took some work to wear away as you stomped along.

You walked until you gave in, till you caved.

It’d been who knows how long as you ducked under the overhang of a small store, digging in your pocket for your phone.

12:47 am.

It’d been forty-five minutes. Forty-five minutes of stubborn spite and being far too angry for your own good. Of being so stuck in your own head you didn’t stop yourself from getting into danger, but maybe that’s just what you do.

You held your phone with a shaky, wet hand, scrolling through your contacts before highlighting Dean’s name. Just the sight of it had your stomach churning, that burst of emotions flooding through you but you hit call anyway, pressing the phone to your ear.

It rang once, twice…

“Hello?”

No matter how angry you were, you couldn’t deny the rush of relief that washed over you at the sound of his voice.

You didn’t answer right away, a few quiet moments passing.

“Dean—”

“Y/n, where the hell are you?”

“Hello to you too,” you say, and you didn’t even need to see him to know he wasn’t amused.

“Now’s not the time for games,” he says.

“Like you care,” you mutter, more to yourself than anything but he still heard it.

“I called you seven freaking times, Y/n. Don’t tell me that crap,” he says, and you can hear the sheer anger and frustration in his voice, a little impatience mixed in there too.

You pull the phone away for a second, catching that number seven right beside his name. Dammit.

You simply sigh, get all quiet for a moment or two as you stand there with your free arm wrapped around yourself, foot tapping against the wet ground.

“Y/n, where are you?” He reiterates.

You’re still quiet for a second, biting your cheek.

“I don’t know,” you admit softly, swallowing.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” He says incredulously.

“I mean I don’t know, Dean. We’re in a town we’ve never been before in the freaking boonies, what do you think?” You say louder, quieting back down and shrinking back against the wall at your outburst, trying to hide from any unwanted attention.

“Landmarks, Y/n, gimme landmarks,” he says, tone a little softer.

You hum softly as your eyes dart around, searching for the most helpful piece of information you could find.

“Dave’s. Dave’s Bar. Uh…a diner across from it too,” you say, wincing at the sudden crack of thunder.

“I’m on the way. And please, for the love of god, stay put. Don’t go wanderin’ around or I swear I’m gonna freakin’ lose my damn mind,” he says.

“Dean, I—”

There were those three beeps, those familiar three beeps followed by the stupid dead battery symbol. That fear in the pit of your stomach heightened, and you’re banking on Dean’s ability to find his way around because there’s no way in hell you’re stepping foot into that bar to use the phone. That just might be the stupidest thing you could do second to walking out here in anger by yourself in the first place.

That familiar sense of panic settles deep within you, heavy as you bite the inside of your cheek. In a matter of seconds you quickly find that you no longer wanted to storm off and go wherever your feet take you. You no longer wanted to walk farther away, not even a single step. You wanted to do none of that.

You wanted to be inside that Impala where you know it’s safe, hell, you wanted to be in his arms because that’s even safer. But instead you’re stuck outside in dodgy weather all by yourself, with no one to blame but yourself.

You had entirely no idea how far you were from that motel room, let alone where exactly you were. It could have been a much shorter drive for Dean than it was a walk for you, it had to be. But then again, you guys were in a town you’ve never been to, and he could only guess based off the information you gave him.

Worry ran circles in your mind, lap after lap that he wouldn’t find you, not for a while. Or even worse, that by the time he did, you’d have been snatched up by a crazy monster or an even crazier human being.

It made that dizzying feeling send waves through your chest, quickening your heart beat as you paced in the same spot. He told you not to move, so you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t, but you felt like a moving target the more you lingered in the same area. You felt like eyes were on you and you just couldn’t see them. It was unnerving.

He told you not to move, so you shouldn’t.

You sat on the nearby bench before realizing how soaked it was, not that it really mattered. But you stood back up in a huff, lifting your hands to your face and brushing away your wet hair.

You did something stupid, of course you did, but you’d never tell him that. Sure, getting some fresh air was always a good idea when arguing, gives a chance to cool off and clear your head. But not in the middle of the night when a damn thunderstorm is about to break loose.

You were being reckless, thinking in the heat of the moment and acting on it as people so often do. As Dean so often does. You dug your own grave and now you have to lay in it as you stand there with chattering teeth and your arms wrapped around yourself to maintain the non existent warmth you had in your body.

Seconds felt like minutes, minutes felt like hours, and hours felt like damn decades until you saw headlights. You didn’t dare draw attention to yourself in the event that it wasn’t Dean—he was incredibly observant, he’d see you without it.

But you heard a distinct three honks of a familiar horn, and that relief settles over you once more. He pulls a u-turn in the middle of the wide road, stopping along the curb right in front of you as he leans over the bench seat to look at you.

He sees that look on your face, he sees your stance, he knows you’re not going to make this easy for him, he knows. You’re stubborn as hell and he loved it and hated it all the same. Hated it in moments like this.

He knows, so he does himself a favor and gets out of the car and into the pouring rain.

“Well I’ll be damned, looks like you actually listened to me,” he says, looking at his surroundings, the very same ones you’d mentioned to him on that phone call.

You hadn’t strayed too far just like he’d asked you to, you stayed put.

You roll your eyes, exhaling a larger than life huff. “Don’t get used to it.”

Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes, and that expression he’s got is far less than humored as he narrows his eyes at you. He could tell you’d still be difficult, no matter how scared or upset or truly bothered you were, you’d always be difficult first because being stubborn is what you know best. Didn’t want to show how vulnerable you were, how vulnerable you are.

“You gonna stand there all night or are you gonna get in the car, sweetheart? It’s cold and this storm ain’t going anywhere,” he says, a hint of demanding in his voice.

“Then go back to the motel if you’re so uncomfortable. I’m sure can find my way back,” you counter, brows knit together.

“Like hell you can,” he nearly yells, his frustration evident. “Don’t be stupid, Y/n.”

“I’m not being stupid, Dean,” you say, equal anger in your tone.

“Yeah, you are, Y/n. You went wandering off in the dinky town we know nothing about in the middle of the night, and you got yourself lost in a storm. You’re damn lucky I found you before some monster, or even worse, some creep, got their hands on you. So yes, Y/n, you’re being stupid,” he shouts, that vein in his neck bulging and his chest heaving lightly.

“Go away, Dean.”

That’s all you could manage to say, all you could muster. You meant absolutely none of it, not at all, but that stubbornness in you was hard to resist.

“Y/n, just get in the damn car before I make you do it myself, and you know I will,” he says, a clear warning in his words.

You simply stare at him, you stand there and stare at him across the roof of the Impala as the rain continues to pour all around you, the wind making everything all the more intense.

You stood there and watched the crease between his brows, one created from your stubbornness and his frustration. You watched as the rain had his hair sticking to his forehead, no longer spiked up or disheveled from the sheer amount of times he’s run his fingers through it in the past two hours.

You stand there as the wind and the rain sends chills over you, cold and constant. He looks like his last fuse is about to blow, and he knows what you’re doing. He doesn’t give a damn about the weather, couldn’t care less now that he knows you’re in one piece, not lost in the middle of a storm. But he knows what you’re doing.

You’re so damn stubborn, so angry at him that you don’t want to listen, even if it’s inconveniencing you. You’re so frustrated, the last thing you want to do is sit a mere two feet away from him for who knows how long. It’s the last thing you want but yet it’s the only thing you want.

Not just because you were cold and wet and miserable. Not just because you were tired and in the midst of a freaking storm. He made you so damn pissed but you could deny the comfort that settled over you. Hell, is washed through you, rushed.

You didn’t want to listen to him, purely out of spite, not as you stand there and look at that expression he’s got. But yet that’s all you want to do.

After another passing moment, you exhale a short huff and open the door, getting in the car without a word.

The leather seats squeaked as you did, as Dean did, your soaked clothing making it inevitably so. The heat you felt from the vents was immediate, comforting in contrast to the cold weather just outside. And it wasn’t long before he sped off.

You sat pressed up against the door and he very much noticed, was about ready to say something but he decided against it for this moment. Kept his tight, white knuckled grip on the wheel instead. But that didn’t keep him from glancing over at you more often than not.

He could feel you shivering, even if you insisted on sitting as far from him as you could. In reality, you wanted nothing more than to tuck yourself against him, but that spite you’ve got going on was still going.

You looked ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous sitting there like that acting as if he had the damn plague. Acting like you didn’t absolutely love the idiot sitting 3 feet away when it really could have been just one or two. You looked stupid and you knew it, you knew he knew it too.

“You gonna glue yourself to the door the whole way back to Bobby’s too?” He asks.

Exhibit A.

You exhale a huff, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Maybe,” you say, stubborn as ever.

You hear his quiet scoff, you know he’s shaking his head without even seeing him.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Y/n,” he says, glancing over at you briefly to see just how tightly your brows were scrunched.

“Shut up, Dean,” you say, quiet but he very much heard it.

He only shook his head, chuckling to himself quietly but this time it wasn’t completely void of humor. You were ridiculous.

You noticed how he turned the vent towards you, then you noticed how all of them were. Never mind the fact that he may have been cold. He pointed all the damn things towards you and that alone had you wavering.

No, you couldn’t. Couldn’t just give in so easily to that green eyed fool because he’d get all smug, let it go to his head. No matter how your heart skipped a beat, no matter how sweet the gestures were, one’s he did without second thought because he would always put you first.

No matter the cause, no matter the situation, he put you first every single time without hesitation. Doesn’t matter if it’s walking closest to the street when walking, or giving you the last beer. No matter if it’s giving you his jacket in the cold or ripping a damn piece of his flannel off to bandage you, even if it was his favorite one. He always put you first.

But you couldn’t think about that right now, you’d give in too easily. Couldn’t let him have that satisfaction because you may be ridiculous, but you you stubborn too.

What you could do, however, was scoot a little closer. Just a little bit, then a little more, and maybe you’d be damn near pressed to his side until you finally are.

“Think better of it?” He asks, and you hear that amusement in his tone.

You simply huff, displeasure on your expression as you glare up at him.

“Just cold, don’t get too excited,” you grumble, resting your head back on his shoulder as you cross your arms around yourself.

Just cold.

You were quiet the rest of the drive back to the motel, the drive that wound up being twenty minutes. Seemed like nothing, like a quick trip in a vehicle. But to walk, it felt like it was infinitely longer.

That familiar motel came into view as Dean slowed down, swinging into the small lot and right back into the same parking spot as he’d been in just hours prior.

It was still raining, still heard rumbles of thunder after flashes of lightning. The wind still blew against the car and swayed it faintly, the culmination of all three proving to be less than inviting for you to want to get out of the warmth and safety of the car and into the elements, even if it was just for a few fleeting seconds.

You scooted away from Dean as he dug in his pocket, fishing around for the motel key. He pulled it out with a smal a-ha, something that had you rolling your eyes as you push open the door.

It was quite a cold shock, actually, the weather a sharp contrast to the warmth of the Impala. But luckily Dean was just as urgent with getting inside the room as you were, though you still released your exhale just as loudly.

You can tell he’s not a fan of that action, not one bit as his jaw tenses momentarily and maybe even an eye roll. But it’s a matter of seconds before he pushes open the door.

It looks just as you left it, duffel bag on the bed, a few clothing items strewn about it in an effort to find something to wear. Though you were mid argument at the time, the action proving to be pointless and it showed.

Dean’s bag was in the same spot, unzipped and rifled through as it sat on the floor next to the bed still.

It was much warmer and much more dry than the inclement weather just on the outside of that door. But it was still tense. It was still tense and moody and damn near suffocating just as it was in the car, just as it was out in the storm. That was something that motel room couldn’t take away.

You brush past him in a huff, feeling his eyes on you as you made your way to the bathroom. You don’t care—he can look at you all he wants. He can glare, can furrow his brows, he can look as moody as he’d like but you don’t care. You most certainly do, but you’re stubborn enough to not want that to show.

You switch on the light, it’s yellow glow illuminating the small room. This is the first time you’d really seen yourself since this morning. The gash on your face, how tired you looked. How swollen your eyes were from crying, how rain soaked you were.

You looked exactly how you felt, and your reflection only made you more upset.

You were so worked up, so out of sorts, you left the bathroom all together in the huff that you entered it in. Just as upset as a few minutes ago, passing by Dean in the very same way as the first time.

He didn’t say anything, not at first. He didn’t say anything as he stood there and watched you, hands paused from what they were doing digging around in his bag. It wasn’t until you began digging in yours that he spoke up.

“What are you doing?” He asks, something more than curiosity in his tone. Something that sparked your frustration.

“Getting ready for bed, what’s it look like, Dean?” You counter, discontent in your tone as you speak.

“So you’re just gonna neglect your wounds like it didn’t happen and go to bed?” He says.

“Yes, Dean, that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

You continue to rummage through your belongings, not fully knowing what you were looking for in your anger until you spotted a shirt to sleep in. Of course it was one of Deans—you haven’t worn your own clothes to bed for quite a long while. It wasn’t going to change just because you were fighting like cats and dogs.

You dug around some more in search of your toothbrush, snagging your hand on something sharp enough to make you recoil as it brushes over your wound. You knew he saw it, of course he did. He saw most everything.

“Y/n,” he says.

You don’t respond, instead shrugging off your coat, letting it fall to the floor in a rain soaked pile, you shirt soon to follow. You could tell he was growing impatient again.

You sat on the edge of the bed and began to untie your boots, careless and rough with your actions. So careless that you gripped them with your frustration to toss them inside rather than kick them off like you normally do, the action sending jolt through your palm once more. It was a crippling wave of pain, one that had you sucking a sharp gasp through your teeth as you jerked your hand back

“Y/n,” he said, louder this time.

“What?” You ask, your annoyance evident in your tone.

“Would you calm down for a second?” He says.

“I am calm, Dean.”

He laughs again, the humor far from it once again as he looks at you.

“No, you’re not. You’re too damn busy huffing and puffing that you’re bangin’ yourself up even more than you already are!” He all but shouts.

“I’m fine, okay? It’s just a freaking scratch, Dean,” you yell, holding up your hand. It wasn’t until you looked at it, saw the fresh staining of blood on the scrap piece of flannel that you knew you were in for it. “Son of a bitch.”

“Bathroom. Now,” he says.

You look back at him.

“I can handle it.”

“I wasn’t asking, sweetheart. Bathroom,” he says.

You simply look at him for a moment or two, the very same way you did earlier when he asked you to get in the car. You look at him and see he’s not backing down, that he’s not kidding. So you roll your eyes and get up from the bed, brushing past him again and bumping him with your shoulder.

You can be pissed at him all you want, he didn’t care. He was patching you up no matter how much you fought him on it because he always did, and he always will.

You walk back in the bathroom with a short huff, the older Winchester right behind you.

“Have a seat.”

You roll your eyes. “You don’t have to tell me what to do, Dean.”

“Apparently you do.”

You glare at him, hopping up onto the counter anyway. You could tell another comment was sitting on the tip of his tongue but he chose against saying anything further on the subject.

He set the first aid kit down, flipping open its lid. His hand hovered over it for a few passing moments, as he looked over everything, pulling out the roll of bandage and the antiseptic, grabbing a moderate stack of gauze from its compartment.

He set everything down and laid it out on the counter before returning his focus to you. He grabbed your hand gently, so very gentle in contrast to his temper. He held your hand in his and turned it so your palm faced upwards. He let go momentarily to untie the knot in the fabric around it, requiring a little extra work from how tight he’d fastened it earlier. But soon enough he got it, loosening it up.

When he pulled away the fabric to reveal a nasty scratch that’d been plenty smudged with crimson, you lifted your gaze to see his expression. You saw the tension in his jaw, saw the way his brows pulled together in displeasure. You saw it all while you felt the gentle caress of his thumb over the heel of your hand.

He got caught up in staring for a few more moments, noticeably so, and he cleared his throat. He snagged some gauze and the bottle of antiseptic, opening the plastic cap with a flick of his thumb. He tipped the bottle over and squirted the clear liquid on the gauze, grabbing your hand once more.

He looked at you briefly, long enough to make sure you met his gaze as if to offer a wordless warning. He drizzled some of it directly on your hand, the sensation cold and stinging almost immediately and you half make an attempt to pull from his grasp but he tightens around your wrist gently, just enough to let you know he wouldn’t let you recoil.

He waited a few moments before taking the dampening gauze and dabbing away the excess liquid, tossing the dirtied material aside in favor of grabbing fresh ones.

Your hand was tender as he wiped away the blood, making sense of what he was working with ones he got it more cleaned up. It was red and irritated, hand throbbing from all the fuss and handling of it that you so desperately wanted to be over. So much so you began to squirm and continue to try and recoil.

It was no use.

You were relieved to see he’d been done with the liquid torment, for now at least, grabbing the roll of bandage. He’d laid down fresh, dry gauze first, peeling back the edge of the roll before he began wrapping it around your hand. He was gentle throughout the process, gentle despite being so horribly the opposite just hours earlier. He’d always take care of you.

His thumb brushed over the fresh bandage for a few moments, his gaze shifting to your cheek. You knew what was coming next.

“Dean, I can take care of the rest,” you interject, watching him nearly roll his eyes.

“I’m sure you can, but I didn’t ask you to either.”

You huff once again and roll your eyes, looking the other way when he grabbed more dampened gauze from the counter.

You felt his finger under your chin, redirecting your gaze to him so he could see better. You struggled to keep from moving, the anticipated pain having you trying to get yourself situated, shying away from that damn antiseptic in hopes he’d just call it a day.

Of course he wouldn’t.

“Dammit, Y/n, would you hold still?” He says, patience thin as he rests his hand on your cheek and redirects your gaze once more.

You heave a heavy sigh, shoulders slumping a little bit as you allow him to, eyes narrowed as you look up at him with all the annoyance you could muster. You didn’t want to hold still, you wanted to dig your heels in and do the exact opposite of everything he said. You wanted to piss him off even more because you were still angry, still upset with him.

You gave it a valiant attempt, tried your hardest and it lasted you a little while as you sat there on that counter. But with the way he’d been cradling your face in his hand, the way his thumb brushed back and forth across your cheek almost absentmindedly. It was hard to keep your irritation in place.

“He really gotcha good, huh sweetheart?” He asks, tone much softer than moments ago but that anger was still very much there. Not at you, but at the damn thing that put its hands on his sweetheart.

It’s like a burning feeling in the pit of his stomach, sitting heavy as a damn boulder there, getting heavier and heavier with each passing minute the more he allows himself to think about what happened, what could have happened.

He always does that to himself. Always keeps himself up at night. Lays there and let’s one scenario after the next plague his mind on things that could happen to you, things that could happen to Sammy. Things that could happen on his watch, trying to figure out ways to prevent said imaginary things to happen so he’s prepared for anything and everything. Things that could happen when he’s not there, even just for a split second. Those were the things that bothered him the most. Drove him insane till he got this tightness in his chest that had him nearly bursting at the seams.

He gets himself so worked up on those nights, all while you’ve got your head on his chest and you’re sound a sleep, not a care in the world for a few hours time. He envied it, how at peace you were, but it’s all he wants for you, helps loosen that tightness in his chest knowing you’re at ease. At ease while he lays there and torments himself with what ifs and things that didn’t even happen, things that might never happen.

Dean Winchester might seem calm, cool, and collected under the pressure of this hunting life. He might seem like he’s got everything under control at all times, got a plan for everything, a solution. And most of the time, he does. But he’s also got himself so wound up on the future way far ahead of him that it renders him anxious and stressed more often than not.

You simply shrug at the question. “S’alright.”

There’s that infamous eye roll he gives, that anger building once more at your nonchalance of the situation. It’s part of what’s got him so angry that night to begin with. You act like you don’t care when you really do, act like everything’s fine and that it’s just part of the job. It is, but getting hurt like that, hell, even getting just a simple scratch. To him—that’s purely like a nightmare when it comes to you.

He couldn’t care less how banged up and bruised he got, but when it comes to Sammy, when it comes to you, he gets so damn pissed he can hardly see straight.

“No, it’s not,” he says, dabbing away the remnants of blood smudging around it on your forehead.

You’re half tempted to argue in response, tell him he’s being dramatic. But you’d only be poking the bear, something you’d done the entirety of that night. But that look on his face, painted with worry and fear, you saw it and didn’t have the heart to poke and prod at him, at least not in this moment.

So you settle for a deep sigh, looking up at him while his other hand still rests on your cheek. You know part of him is being a little dramatic, you know he doesn’t need to get so tightly wound on scenarios that didn’t even happen, but pointing it out would do no good.

He drops his hand in favor of digging through his first aid kit. It’s always fully stocked, nearly jam packed to the gills with just about anything you could imagine. At every hunt he’ll stop at a gas station in whatever town you’re in, buy a box of bandages, supplies, anything he thinks he may need. He’s got this paranoia of running out, this worry he doesn’t have enough in the event of an emergency. But that worry is something he keeps to himself.

He pulls out three closure strips, tearing open their packaging. He’s careful in the way we places them, wants them to be damn near perfect, wants to add as little pain as possible to the pain he’s sure you’re feeling. Just the idea makes him riled up and angry at the thought of you hurting.

He dabs away any additional blood that formed, that cut looking a little better now that it’d been properly taken care of, leaving it to look a little red and angry after having been touched.

You continue to sit there on that counter as he cleans up, tossing the trash in the small bin on the floor right next to it. He can feel you staring, of course he can. He can feel it and confirms it when he turns back to you.

He averts his gaze for a moment as he grabs ahold of your hand, gently as his eyes glance over the fresh bandage. That very hand his shaky as it rests in his palm, his thumb brushing over the heel of it as a wordless for me of comfort.

You can see the way his jaw tenses as he looks at it, at the way his brows crease and knit together. You can practically see the gears turning in his head, working on overdrive and you know he’s thinking about what happened that day. And it’s almost as if he can read your thoughts, tearing his gaze away as if to clear his mind, shake away his own thoughts before he looks at you.

His gaze is still narrowed with that anger, but it’s quick to soften just a little when he meets your eyes.

You bite the inside of your cheek for a moment, swinging your dangling feet once or twice when you bump his leg with your foot.

“I’m fine, Dean,” you say, not so much in a stubborn, dismissive way this time.

His brows pull closer together again at the words, words he doesn’t agree with, but there’s that damn smile of yours. Soft and sweet, a little humor behind it because you’re trying to lighten the mood. All he can do is look at you, look at that small grin and wonder how he got so lucky to have you looking at him like that.

You reach up and swipe your thumb along his chin, wiping away the smudge of dirt that was smeared there. But you didn’t drop your hand, pressing your thumb in the soft dimple in his chin before you caress his cheek softly, letting your hand settle there.

You can feel his stubble scratch under your palm, can feel the tension in his jaw. But you can also feel it subside as the tips of your fingers brush over his hair as they rest at the nape of his neck. He may have been your tough guy, may have been rough around the edges, but nothing could compare to the way his gaze softened as he looked at you. As he responded to your touch in the gentlest way possible.

It worked wonders to sooth his anger, anger that still lingered and threatened to build up and tighten in his chest if he thought about that day one more damn time.

He leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours, hands resting on the tops of your thighs. He heaved a heavy sigh, breath smelling like the burger he’d had for dinner, and the beer he’d drank to wash it down.

His nose bumped against yours, and you can feel his unease without even looking at him, you know there’s words on the tip of his tongue.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says, quiet as his breath puffs against your lips with each word.

You’re silent for a moment or two, something that maintains that unease he feels. Because he knows he gets angry, so damn angry that he acts like a jerk. Says things to piss you off in the heat of an argument. He knows it.

But it’s quick to ease when he feels your lips on his, soft and gentle, something he wastes no time in leaning into as he kisses you a little harder. He basks in every last bit that that kiss lingers, parting momentarily as his breath brushes against your lips warmly before kissing you again once, twice, three more times.

He can’t help but steal another as he pulls you closer to the edge of the counter with a grip on your hips, pulling back just enough to see your face.

You see every freckle, every single one, speckled across the bridge of his nose and splayed over his cheeks. Dotting along his eyelids and disappearing up into his eyebrows. You see the one that sits in his top lip, one that you never fail to press a kiss to, this time being no different.

You see the soft creases by his eyes, the near permanent lines of worry between his brows. You see every single detail up close and personal as you sit there and stare at him. And the way he runs his hand along your rain dampened hair, brushing it out of your face, it’s the only thing that distracts you and pulls your attention.

“Guess I’m sorry too,” you say, that humor in your tone making him roll his eyes. But the meaning, the sincerity is very much there and he knows it.

“You’re a pain in the ass, sweetheart,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead before spinning on his heel and stepping out of the bathroom.

“Hey!” You protest, hopping down from the counter with a fake frown that threatens to turn to a smile, even more so when he turns to look at you with raised brows. “Am I at least your pain in the ass?”

He pretends to ponder the question long and hard, lips puckered in thought as he stands there and watches you grow impatient and lightheartedly offended.

You’re about ready to scoff when he steps closer, hand reaching up to settle at the nape of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair softly.

“Always have been, sweetheart,” he says, pressing his lips against yours.

—

Taglist: @harrysweasleys @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @elegantbutedgy @campingmonkey @lanea-1 @deandaydreaming @agalliasi @malindacath @ajreturnstocringeyaccount @deanswaywardgirl @awkward-and-indecisive @drownthewitch @happyt0exist @sparkycorleone @humanmistakes @akshi8278 @kidd3ath @nyotamalfoy @elliewigginton20 @wandering-winchesters @senjoritanana

[keerysfreckles]

Luke x percy’s older sister angst/fluff comfort where her nightmares get really really bad and she hasn’t been able to sleep so she lashes out on everyone and distances herself and her and luke really fight but then he comforts her because reader spilled to annabeth and ofc it’s gonna spread hahahah

bummerland — luke castellan

pairing: luke castellan x fem poseidon!reader

warnings: use of y/n and she/her pronouns, ANGST!!!

a/n: we get the tunnel of love episode tomorrow AND THE PERCABETH HUG SCENE IM TOTALLY NORMAL ABT THIS..

masterlist !

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

y/n jolts awake. beads of sweat dripping off her forehead and cheeks. she's surpsied percy hasn't woken up because of her reaction to her nightmares. turning to her left, she sees percy fast asleep.

half-bloods always had nightmares. some campers had it worse than others. tonight y/n could've sworn she had the worst nightmare any half-blood could have.

the nightmares weren't new to the girl. they just started getting worse ever since she got claimed by her father, which was three weeks ago.

y/n wasn't usually the angered type. in percy's words, "she has her moments", but she never was angry at anyone for long periods of time.

since y/n the only older camper in the poseidon cabin, it automatically made her a camp counselor. which might explain why the campers were confused that she didn't show up during sword lessons today. her, luke and clarisse were supposed to teach them today. luke and clarisse managaed to help all the campers, but having y/n there would've made it a hundred times easier.

no one really questioned it, until y/n didn't show up at lunch or dinner that same day. annabeth asked percy about it at lunch, and he guessed she was taking a nap, which wasn't unusual for his sister.

however when luke asked percy for y/n's whereabouts, he didn't know how to answer the hermes boy. percy hasn't seen y/n all day, which only worried both of them.

the next day passed the same way as yesterday. not one camper saw y/n. this made percy more anxious, as well as annabeth. luke made it his mission to find the missing counselor.

luke checked cabin three, and wasn't surprised to only find two empty beds. he then checked the infirmary, the big house (minus the attic), the climbing wall, and near the lake. he ran his fingers through his hair, sighing once he realized y/n was still missing in the camp.

luke was about to go back to his cabin ans call it a night, until his heard a noise coming from inside the woods. it wasn't any sort of monstrous sound, which was the only reason luke followed the noise without a second thought.

he continued to trek through the woods as the noise became louder. he recognized the path was leading him towards the archery range. he can't believe he didn't check the archery range on his own.

once the trees cleared, he saw an empty range. until his eyes landed on y/n shooting arrows at the overused hay bales. luke caught up to her as she was walking to reclaim her arrows, ready to shoot again.

"y/n, we've all been worried about you. none of the campers said they didn't see you. neither did percy," luke grabs her elbow, stopping her movements.

y/n looks at luke as if he had three heads, all with smoke steaming out of their ears. "what are you doing out here?"

luke's surprised by her tone. it seemed rush and cold. he can't remember if he ever heard y/n talked like that.

"i was looking for you! i was so worried about you."

y/n shakes her arm out of luke's grasp and just continues to collect her arrows. "i'm fine luke, really."

luke scoffs, and follows her as she walks back to her bow at the other end of the range. "you wouldn't be avoiding the whole camp for two days, you think that's fine? that's the opposite of fine y/n!"

y/n doesn't respond. she preoccupied herself with loading her bow with a brown arrow provided by the camp.

"what, now you're going to ignore me?" luke's hands were on his hips, watching angrily as y/n continued to ignore his presence. she shot almost three more arrows before he spoke again.

"annabeth told me about you having nightmares," luke's voice was much more soft, but even more concerned.

"why didn't you tell me?" he sounded hurt.

y/n doesn't look towards luke, she starts fiddling with the bow and arrow in her hand. she shook her head, and luke didn't have to see her face to know her bottom lip was quivering.

"i didn't want to bother anyone. annabeth pushed it out of me, and i guess she told you," y/n responded.

luke grabbed the bow and arrow out of y/n's hand and set them on the ground, before he took both of the girl's shoulders in his hands.

"y/n you have to believe me when i tell you, you're not a bother to me. you're not a bother to anyone at camp, i swear."

y/n shrugs luke's hands off her body, and went back to shooting arrows down the range.

luke let out a sound of anger, mixed with stubbornness. "y/n, can you just come back to the camp so people can stop worrying about you, and we can talk about it?"

luke sighs again since he knew he wasn't getting an answer out of the girl.

"gods, y/n, will you stop and just talk with me?"

y/n could tell luke was getting more and more frustrated. she knew she couldn't ignore him forever. she throws the bow on the ground, and discards her arm protection. the girl was now fully facing luke.

"go ahead, talk."

luke starts to explain again how worried he was, and how worried the campers were that no one knew where she was. no one knew why she disappeared, until luke got the information from annabeth, about y/n's reoccurring nightmares.

"all half-bloods have nightmares y/n, you know we all relate to you about that. so why couldn't you just talk to someone about it instead of vanishing?"

y/n tried to respond. her mouth opened, but nothing came out. it's as if her voice box was completely removed. she looked all around, trying to avoid luke's eye contact. she tried to speak once more, but the same croak-y airy sound came out.

"come here," luke simply said, before pulling y/n's arm. he engulfed her in a hug, and she was quick to respond by wrapping her arms around luke's waist. he whispered comforting words in the air, as he held her head to his sternum. he believed she was the perfect height for hugs.

luke heard small cries coming from the girl in his arms, which soon turned to y/n choking on her own sobs. he was fast at calming her down. he did it plenty of times while she was in hermes' cabin, he practically knew her better than she did.

"are you okay?" luke asked once he heard her cries soften, now she was only sniffling. he felt her nod against his chest, and he started to rock their bodies back and forth gently.

"thank you luke," y/n's quiet, "for calming me down, and for finding me."

"like i said, we were all worried about you," luke responded.

y/n pulled away from the hug, "i guess i should go find percy and tell him i'm alive."

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

The Scars On His Back

Just going to slowly reupload my fics...two at a time...

Summary: Astarion has a nightmare and goes out to the forest for a breather when he runs into you.

He’s back there again, with the feeling of a knife tearing into his back, carving up his flesh. Blood runs down his body, creating rivers of crimson on his pale skin and drips onto the floor, pooling between his feet. He can feel the stickiness of the liquid penetrating the gaps between his toes, the feeling sending shivers up his spine. His lifeblood drains with each moment, the pain overwhelms what is left of his soul and tears his body apart, sending screams ripping from his throat until his voice is hoarse but it never stops. The knife digs in again and again, the pain harshly dragging him back into reality each time he drifts off too far into the black void.

And then he wakes up with a start to the mess that is his tent, chest heaving out of habit and a sting in his eyes. His hands tremble as they reach up to wipe his weakness away, nearly causing him to nick himself. He presses his hands against his face, shakily drawing deep breaths.

He’s far far away from there now. He’s safe from him , with the tadpole in his head. He won’t have to bow and scrape to him as long as the tadpole remains. As long as you shelter him.

Hastily throwing on a tunic to cover up the scars, he heads outside his tent for some fresh air, to be away from the stuffiness that his tent brings tonight. The night air is cooling, a gentle breeze whistling through the still camp. Moonlight spills through the tree canopy, shining beams of silvery light upon the various tents pitched around the once burning campfire.

Quiet trills of nighttime creatures fill the silence, the smell of your blood wafting from…hold on. The smell of your blood? Ruby eyes widen and his feet move in the direction his nose is picking the scent up from before his mind can register anything. You are injured , his half-awake mind processes, a small pool of panic bubbling within his chest as he quickens his pace. How bad are your wounds? Have you been attacked? Will he make it in time?

He bursts through the trees, gaze frantically searching for any signs of an attack but all he sees was you. There is no sign or scent of enemies, only your lonesome figure sitting sheepishly on a rock, crimson liquid seeping through your fingers.

“Hi Astarion,” you smile, waving awkwardly.

“Y/N!” He hurries over to your side. “You’re bleeding.”

“So it seems,” you chuckle. “A small accident, really. I merely slipped on some wet grass and cut myself on the sharp edges of the stones.”

“You really are the clumsiest person I know, darling,” he shakes his head with a sigh, taking out some bandages and ointment. “Let’s treat this wound of yours before it gets infected. Wouldn’t want a small accident to turn into a big mess now, would we?”

You nod, biting your tongue before words that will ruin the mood slip past your lips. It’s better to keep to yourself how prepared he was to treat your injuries, and especially the fact that you could tell he was worried about you. Then an idea hits you.

“Since I’m already bleeding, do you want to feed on me?” The question sends his head shooting upwards, a quizzical look on his face.

“Feed…on you?”

“Yeah, like drink my blood since it’s leaking out of my body anyways, would be a shame if so much of it went to waste,” you can’t help but grin, “I can see your fangs peeking out, you know. Go ahead and drink, I don’t mind.”

He opens his mouth, moving it closer to your wound. The sweet scent of your blood hits his nostrils hard and they flare in response, hunger gnawing in his chest. You had offered your blood to him, what did you want in return? His body? His services?

Ruby red eyes search your face, waiting for you to lay down your conditions but you simply press your bleeding arm to his lips with a small smile, dabbing a sliver of blood on his lips.

“I mean it, Astarion. And no, I don’t want anything in return. I promise.”

A small puff of breath leaves his lips at your words and his tongue darts out, gently licking a stripe up your arm. When you don’t pull away, he gets a little bolder, sucking blood from the open wound. You hiss softly when his fangs dig in, drawing more blood from your body but keep your arm steady. He hungrily drinks it all in, the sweet flavour bursting in his mouth.

You don’t know what compels you to do it, but your other hand moves towards his hair, gently running your fingers through his silver curls, twirling the longer strands around your index finger. You carefully avoid touching his ears, knowing how sensitive they are and instead tangle your fingers in the hair at the top of his head.

He quietly purrs against your arm, pressing his tongue against the wound to staunch what bleeding he can before cleaning the wound thoroughly with a damp cloth, sending vibrations running up your arm. Gently dabbing the ointment on your arm, he wraps a bandage around the wound, pressing one last kiss to it before standing back up, offering a hand.

“Shall we return to camp before the others begin panicking? I doubt they can function without the both of us.” The smile on his face is filled with apprehension, a fact that doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Astarion –”

“Don’t you worry, my sweet. I’ll repay this debt of yours as soon as possible,” he winks, pulling you to your feet. “You won’t regret it in the slightest.”

As he turns to leave, you shout.

“Astarion!”

He stops in his tracks, turning around. Muscles tensed, he tries to cover up the fear that is thrumming through his veins with a feigned smile, hoping it’d mellow out your anger. After all, you could neve resist his smile…right?

You see the way fear flashes in his eyes and immediately regret raising your voice, even if it was out of frustration directed at yourself. Taking a deep breath to clear away your anger, you hold out a hand in peace offering.

“I’m sorry for raising my voice at you. I’m not mad at you, I’m just…” Your voice trails off. How do you even justify what you just did? You know of the horrors Cazador inflicted on him, and yet you still lash out.

“It’s quite alright, Y/N,” he chuckles nervously.

You vigorously shake your head, “I really am sorry about it. There’s no way I can justify raising my voice at you, you didn’t do anything wrong. I was really frustrated at myself for not being able to convince you I didn’t want anything in return, I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

Astarion searches for any sign of a lie in your words but finds nothing. You really meant it. Every word you said. Your apology, your insistence on needing nothing from him after he had just fed on you, all of it was sincere and genuine. His undead heart skips a beat and suddenly the night doesn’t feel so cold anymore.

You care about him.

Before he knows it, his feet carry him over to you once more, his hand sliding into your outstretched one. The warmth blooms from your palm and winds around his cold one as your fingers intertwine with his.

“Y/N,” he breathes.

“Will you accept my apology?” You ask softly, eyes downcast.

“Of course, dearest. I always will,” he leans in, lips hovering over your forehead. Can he kiss you? Will he taint you if he does?

You tilt your head upwards, meeting his lips with yours and he immediately melts into the kiss. Unlike his previous kisses, this one is filled with care and love, not the usual lust and passion he’s used to receiving. Your arms wrap around him, hands resting on his back where scars tell of his past and he reflexively tenses. But this time, the hands on his back mean him no harm. They lie there to pull him closer into your warm embrace, to protect him from those who seek to harm him. So he lets them rest on his vulnerable back, soaking in the strange warmness that the simple action brings.

Astarion closes his eyes, putting his own arms around you. It’s weird, hugging someone for the first time. You don’t mind his cold dead fingers resting on your back and even press closer against him, enveloping him in your warmth.

When your lips part ways, he doesn’t say a word lest his voice wavers and betrays him. He lets you do the talking, relishing in the way you hold onto his hand tightly. Not a single move is made when you lead him into his tent, only letting go of his hand to help him tidy up his bedroll. You make sure he’s comfortable before turning to leave, pausing when he calls out your name in such a gentle manner.

“Stay…with me?” He begs. Your heart aches from his tone and once more you’re reminded of how much he hurts on the inside, so you backtrack and wrap your arms around him.

“Always.”

[dirtytransmasc]

Davos going to patrol the border like he does every night, only for him to find his enemy wounded in the grass, leaning against the stack of border stones they regularly argued over.

Blackwood crimson spilling through his golden Bracken tunic, coating his fingers, slipping from his lips.

Aeron's eyes would meet his hazily, caught somewhere between fear and acceptance. "C'm h're t'finish the-" he'll pause so he can cough blood all over his tunic, " -job?" he finish, looking through his lashes.

Davos will realize his kin drew blood, in the dead of night. They drew Bracken blood. No.

No they drew His blood. Aeron's blood. His beloved's blood.

And had been too cowardly to finish the job. They had left him here to die, no doubt an omen about touching border stones. His wounds left to weep the colors of house Blackwood, stripping him of his own Houses colors as he bled out.

It was cruel, and now Aeron expected him to continue the torture.... so one could only imagine the shock that cast over the Brackens face when the Blackwood kneeled before him, inspecting the litany of stab wounds in the other's side.

"Who?" he'll mutter under his breath as he presses hands to the wounds, "Do you know who did this? Names?"

The Bracken won't speak, not at first, confused and unable to find his voice past the pain and shock and utter bafflement running through his head. And when he doesn't, Davos will put a hand to his cheek, bringing his chin up so they can see eye to eye. Aeron will find fear in that bright blue gaze. It will scare him.

"Who did this to you, B- Aeron? tell me, please tell me," his voice so much softer than normal, even as fuery broiled deep in his chest, his thumb gently padding Aeron's cheek.

"... didn't..... couldn't see..... th'y w're there 'n then gone."

Davos nod's, but hate the answer nonetheless. Aeron was no help, typical Bracken, but Davos would find them. Davos would make them pay for their cowardess, for laying a hand on his beloved.

For now, he would sink his weight into the other's wound, apologizing gently when the brunette hissed and bit down a scream. If he rested their foreheads together, a whispered, "I'm sorry" falling from his lips, comforting the Bracken beneath him, no, no he didn't.

He doesn't know what to do. His Bracken is hurt. He's bleeding. He's in pain. He's dying.

"It's ok Bracken, easy now, I'm.... I'm going to take you someplace safe... I'm going to take care of you now," and he was wrapping his cloak around the other's middle, pulling it tight until the brunette was whining beneath him, "I said easy, it's alright."

Aeron's eyes were on him. They were afraid, so afraid. His skin was pale and clammy, shining sickly in the moonlight. His soft red whore lips splattered in bright crimson. His hair was hanging in his eyes, soft strands pulling down from his braid. Davos smoothed them away.

"It's ok, it'll be ok," he kissed the Bracken's forehead, "I'm here," he kissed him, like he had always longed to, his lips falling onto Aeron's, attempting to savor how soft and plump they were, but the others lips are too slack, too cool. He tastes blood before he even gets a chance to sink in his teeth and they hesitate to flee when he bites. It's all wrong.

When Aeron huffs against him, attempting to shift his lips to kiss back, Davis will pull back, peck him once more, and then in one fluid motion, pull him up into his arms, shifting to stand.

The kiss will have worked as enough of a distraction to keep him from screaming in the moment, and the myriad of kisses he presses to those soft lips now, swallow up any that escape Aeron's throat.

"Hush now," he whispers, straining ever so slightly under the others weight, "we're going somewhere safe, just trust me."

He doesn't know where they're going, but they're going together. If Ser Aeron Bracken dies tonight, he will die in the arms of Davos Blackwood, and Davos will follow him shortly after. Their bodies will be found in the clearing by the river, curled amongst one another. Their houses will go to war for this, no doubt, but that will be fine. They'll be dead, they won't know better or have any strong feelings about it.

And if Aeron Bracken finds it in himself to pull through, who knows where their fate might lead.

[bullet-prooflove]

Stay Tonight: Tim Bradford x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @malindacath @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989

Tim knows he shouldn’t stay, it’s not part of the arrangement the two of you have. However, lying in your bed tonight, tangled up in your sheets, he just can’t bring himself to leave because you almost died today, and he is not ok with that.

This thing between the two of you it’s been going on a while. It started off as a fun way to blow off steam, but it’s become more than that over the past couple of months. Tim just hasn’t wanted to admit it to himself.

When he’d heard that shout go up over the radio, his blood had run cold. He’d responded to the call instinctively, arriving on the scene just in time to see you being loaded into the back of the ambulance.

It had scared the living shit out of him because he’d been confronted with the very real possibility of losing you and in that moment, he’d realised that he can’t live his life without you.

That’s the reason he’d come over here tonight, to tell you how he feels. The only problem is the moment he laid eyes on you; he’d been so fucking relieved he couldn’t help but reach out for you.

“I thought I’d lost you today.” He’d murmured, his thumb ghosting over the apple of your cheek.

You’d placed your hand over his, clasping it to your face as your lips ghosted over the hollow of his wrist.

“I’m ok.” You assure him. “Just some bad bruising.”

He’d kissed you then. It had been tender and soft, a change of pace for the two of you. He’d taken his time, undressing you slowly, cradling your face between his hands because he wants you to know how much you mean to him, he just can’t say it. His fingertips gently chase over the purple starburst bruising that’s erupted across your ribs.

He makes love to you that night, his fingers linking with yours as he looks into your eyes. There’s an intimacy in it, a vulnerability he wants to share with you because Tim, he doesn’t do this with anybody else.

It’s beautiful when you come, that apricot flush across your skin, those pretty bright eyes, the noises you make. Your grip him so impossibly tight Tim has no choice but to come with you. He kisses you as he spills his release, drinking down your pleasure, his hips flush against yours.

You’re draped across him in the aftermath, your bare skin pressed against his. You don’t do this, you don’t cuddle, he thinks it’s a testament to the shooting, that you’re just as shook up as he is.

“I’m staying tonight.” He whispers against your hairline, his fingertips tracing a pattern across your skin.

“I know.” You murmur as he holds you close. “I was hoping you would.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[raitonsfw]

𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 (𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐) | 𝚔𝚊𝚖𝚘 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚘 ꨄ

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: When you come home with tears running down your face, Choso immediately fills an entire wine glass for you. You had gotten your period that day, on Valentine’s Day of all days, and there was no way he was going to want to do anything with you. But it was quite the opposite actually; the man was practically begging for you to engulf him as soon as you mentioned your predicament.

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, fem!reader, needy!choso, period sex, blood play/kink, begging, pleading, whimpering (oh my!), riding, sexual intercourse, creampie, hair pulling, grinding, breast play, reader rides choso with a wine glass in their hand, spilling of wine, pet names (baby), choso the blood manipulator alright (ideas for this man practically write themselves) 

a/n: happy valentine's day! wrote this on my period last month and am currently going through the motions again so lucky me! (tmi sowwy) enjoy and here's your 3rd valentine from me! 💌 wc: 2.7k. v-day m.list | m.list

now playing: the red means i love you by madds buckley

divider credit: @hitobaby & @firefly-graphics

“Y/N? Open up, please.” You heard Choso’s quiet rasp through the door and you felt even more tears slip from the corners of your eyes, threatening to ruin your makeup even more. The mascara had poured down your face and you tried your best to wipe it all off, but it had stained a bit and you didn’t care anymore; you just needed it off.

“No.” You managed out as normally as you possibly could but he could hear the broken huffs that came from you. He was confused to say the least, the glass of red liquid in his hand chilling his fingers as he waited for you to tell him what was wrong. You couldn’t offer him an answer though as you panicked throughout the confines of the bathroom, scrubbing off the cursed makeup your period ruined.

It wasn’t the best day be bleeding from your fucking cunt.

You had run past Choso the second you got home, much to his discontent as he welcomed you home with a small murmur before fading away as you disappeared into the bathroom. He had set up a wonderful Valentine’s night in for the both of you, the most expensive wine sitting in the middle of the dining table as you arrived and he took the opportunity to pour more wine into yours without a second thought; hell you might need the whole bottle. 

“I have a glass of wine for you.” He tried to convince you with that, but you didn’t budge from your spot in front of the mirror. You glanced towards the box of tampons that sat against the back of the shelf near the tub, frowning at it. You wished you could flush them down the toilet, but all that would offer you would be cotton waste and a clog with nearly a million girls threatening you from the shadows because those things were fucking expensive.

“Choso, I’m fine.” 

“Please open the door. I want to help you.” He started to knock on it, sending you into a frenzy as you hurried wiping your makeup off. You threw the makeup wipe in the trash; and what stared back at you was a mess and all you wanted to do was hide beneath the sheets and isolated from society for the five wretched days. You were able to get the mascara off, but some of it still smudged underneath your lashes as a reminder that the promised look for the date went awry because of your sobbing. Which brought you to another revelation, your boyfriend.

Choso wasn’t going to want to have sex with you tonight, not when you were bleeding rivers. You had gone over his reaction in your head a thousand times and every single one didn’t end up with a good outcome; especially since it was such a precious day to him, it felt like your worst nightmare had come true.

“Y/N.” 

You sighed heavily, unlocking the door with a quiet tilt and Choso immediately opened it when he heard the click of the lock. You didn’t get to look at him properly as you ran past him, but he had cleaned up considerably nice today; his blood mark cut neatly against the bridge of his nose and his hair, albeit still incredibly messy, sat up like pins in the ponytails he spored them into. The dark circles around his eyes were still prominent in the luminescent light of the bathroom and you felt for him, he must’ve waited for you for a while. 

Then again, he always looked tired to you. 

Choso held out your glass of wine to you, but then faltered a bit as he took a good look at you. Your eyes were rimmed red with blemished tears as you stared back at him, flicking back and forth from the red liquid in the glass and his puzzled face. Instead he sat the wine glass on the accented table next to the bathroom with a tiny exhale and came up behind you with strong arms. He folded them underneath yours, his fingers dancing over the crevices of your tummy and he pulled you close to him. Resting his chin against your shoulder, he rocked you softly with him to the sway of the music that played out in the living room. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” Choso whispered into your ear, pressing feathered kisses behind it and you shuddered at the action. “Do I have to kill someone for you?” 

“No, it’s nothing like that.” You gave him a tired laugh, placing your hands on his where they intertwined. His hair tickled the back of your neck as he started to kiss down it towards your shoulder and you tried to pull away. “Choso…”

“Yeah?” He hummed out, a bit muffled by your shoulder and his violet eyes glanced towards the mirror, towards yours and you suddenly felt so exposed as they filled with adoration. You couldn’t see his mouth, your shoulder covered it but you knew he was ready to plant kisses down your back and your waist if you let him– anywhere he could reach within a few minutes he would be worshipping. 

“You were looking forward to a night in, right?” You asked him, one of your hands coming up to pick at his hair sticking up from their confines in the hair tie. 

“Is that not happening now?” Choso straightened up a bit, his mouth pouting into a confused frown. He narrowed his eyes a bit, trying to figure out exactly what happened to you. Out of everything he thought of, he speculated you had a rough day at work and needed some love; which was easily done as he’d be right in between your thighs with his tongue lapping up your cunt, two calloused fingers stuffed within in no time.

“It might need to be changed a bit…” 

“Why’s that?” Now he was worried, his arms squeezing you closer to him, a whine etching his words as he rested his chin against your shoulder again. Choso didn’t know much about human emotions, especially women’s and he’d have to ask Yuji later what it meant when one tries to postpone a date night. He’d probably say that means they don’t like you, but that couldn’t be possible; he knew you liked him, otherwise you would’ve left him already. You wouldn’t have tolerated six months with him if you didn’t in some form or another ‘like’ him.

“I got my period earlier today.”

There was a pause and you felt as though you could hear a pin drop but then there was a bit of shuffling behind you and you observed Choso’s eyes to try and gauge his reaction. You swore you saw them darken, the vibrance of them tinting and he squinted at you slightly before resuming his kisses down your shoulder and you felt his hands trail up towards your chest. Your breasts were sore, swollen and when he lifted them up slightly with his palms, you let out a relieved sigh. They wandered over your peaked nipple, his fingers slicing over it and you felt the heat rush through your cheeks as he tweaked it slightly through your clothing. 

“Choso?” You watched him through the mirror and you saw the blush that had crept up on his face, you knew that flushed look– and the hardened outline of his cock pressing into your backside very well. 

“Fuck baby, that made me hard…” Choso muttered admittedly into your shirt with another whine, purposefully hiding his face so you wouldn’t tease his blush. The slightest thing would turn him on so you weren’t that surprised, though you didn’t quite expect it to be because of the crimson between your legs.

What were you so worried about? It’s Choso, the boy who would become flustered if you so much as kissed his hand while in public, who would nearly fall to his knees when you showed off the lingerie you bought whilst out shopping, who would pant at the sight of your arousal leaking out of you like a faucet; your hormones did you so dirty, letting you believe he wouldn’t get off on a little blood. 

After all, he was a blood manipulator and this was his speciality. 

“That made you hard?” You backed your hips into him slightly, earning a choked gasp from him. “You don’t mind me being on my period? If it bothers you, we can use a cond-”

“No, no condom. Don’t want that, want to feel you.” Choso blurted out and you knew you had him pegged, completely cornering him by the thought of pleasure. You bent over slightly and watched him through the mirror as his entire face turned red, his crotch pressing directly against yours now. 

“What about the blood?” You asked, genuinely concerned that he lost his mind as he started to not so subtly grind against your cunt with a roll of his hips. Choso knocked you slightly over against the edge of the sink, his hands grasping for your hips now, one trailing up your back to bend you further and the other steadying you so he could bury deeper into the warmth. His hand found your hair and you were sure he was going to yank it, but instead he tangled it into the strands and rubbed circles into your scalp like the good boy that he was.

“That’s exactly why I don’t want to use one.” The heat of your cunt made him dizzy and he couldn’t stop thinking about how fucking good it would feel to plunge into you, the blood making it so overbearingly wet that he might bust as soon as he’s bottomed out. God, he was this pussy drunk already? He had his chin tilted up now, his eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head and you watched with tenacious eyes. He wasn’t even buried in you yet and his tongue was nearly lolling out of his mouth at the thought of you squeezing around him senselessly with an extra lubrication drooling around his cock.

“I want to drink my wine though...” You whined out, perhaps a bit more innocently than you intended.

A short groan came out of him and that’s when his hand gripped at the tendrils of your hair, yanking it upwards with a harsh pull. His arm flexed as he pulled you up towards him, quieting huffs and pants escaping him as he continued grinding against you. Sometimes when he got like this, all hot and bothered and nearly on the verge of devouring you whole, he didn’t know his own strength and you yelped in pain, moresos shock. His lips hovered over the shell of your ear, his hips ceasing their movements and his chest rose and fell against your back.

“Drink it while you ride me then.” He whined into your ear in rushed syllables, his fingers digging into the crevices of your thighs. They crawled towards the front of your mound, dipping lowly into the soft covered flesh there, if only he could fucking reach his hand down your panties… but you hesitantly stopped him before his hands got dirty. “I need you now, right now. Please, Y/N?”

How could you possibly say no to his pleas? 

And there you were five minutes later, with your wine glass balancing delicately on the tips of your fingers as you sunk down onto him as he babbled out begs and whimpers. Your pussy fluttered against the intrusion of his cock and you let out a delicious moan, your head tipping back as he thrusted up inside you greedily. Choso nearly knocked you off of him, your wine almost spilling from the confines of the glass and you glared at him as you ceased his movements. “Cho– you almost made me spill my wine!” 

He faux pouted before continuing to bounce you harshly on his cock, his fingers digging into your flesh and you could barely hold the glass still against your lips; it drenched your breasts and his chest, staining you both a beautiful red. As Choso noticed the deep color, he instantly glanced down at where you two were connected, the blood slicking up his cock so nicely and at the base it glistened with it. He couldn’t fucking see straight at this point, your pussy clenched around him like a vice as he refused to let ride him fully; he was just so desperate. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry– c-can’t stop.” One of his arms came to wrap around you as he sat up on his elbow, his tongue lapping over the stickiness of your chest and he moaned out as he tasted the tartness of it against your skin. His palm laid flat against the middle of your back as he sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, teasing lightly. As you looked down at him, you almost came from the sight. Choso’s eyes were closed and you could feel the incessant groans and grunts coming from his mouth, the vibrations surrounding your breast and his eyebrows were furrowed in pleasure with every harsh roll of your hips. 

Deep pleasure shot through your body, every single one of your nerves nearly setting on fire and clutched the wine glass in your hand but you knew you were going to eventually drop it if he kept fucking you like this. You couldn’t bring it to your lips, your mouth had fallen open in small pants and moans and you felt Choso take the glass from you. He quickly set it down on the end table, temporarily popping off of your nipple to do so and you used that to your advantage to pin him down onto the bed again. 

“Baby, baby, please.” He whimpered as you dragged yourself up his cock and slammed back down on it, his hands flying towards the pillow and clutching it. He buried his face into the crook of his arm, trying desperately to muffle the moans that poured out of him as his hips barely kept up with yours. “Please, fuck me, I’m so close–”

With every thrust a drowning squelch filled the room, nothing but your arousal mixing with your blood and his precum, submerged in the intoxicating feeling of what it was like fuck up into the wettest mixture ever; Choso felt the blood dripping down his thighs and the dip of his balls and it spurred him on even more, his orgasm flooding through him and threatening to spill out into you. 

“Baby, can I cum in you–? Can I, please? Fuck, I need to...” Choso whined, frenzied purple eyes peeking out from underneath his arm and you nodded quickly, your own orgasm piling up your spine and you felt him shudder beneath you. You watched in awe as his eyes squeezed shut and his face contorted as his hands found your hips again trying to still you against him. His mouth had dropped open in a pitchy moan and you swore you’ve never been more in love, but here you were watching your man fall apart within minutes because of how good your pussy felt whilst on your period and it made you numb with devotion.

Your orgasm met his a few seconds after, squeezing him tightly in place and you breathed through the ecstasy. Your hands were glued to his chest, convulsing through the pleasure that spread throughout your body and you felt his hands come to grasp at yours in a heated motion. Coming down from your high, you regrettably rolled your hips off of him, a heady groan coming from Choso and you noticed how fucking soaked his dick was with your fluids, your face reddening at the sight. 

You gasped as you also noticed the wine and blood stains splattered against the white sheets you two laid on. “Oh God, Choso…”

“We can get new sheets. Come here.” He breathed out, sitting up fully and leaning towards you needily. His hands pulled you back onto his lap and you squeaked, his dick resting against your thigh and you let him kiss you eagerly. He tasted of fruit, the wine that he laved at earlier, and pure adoration that spilled out of every nook of his curse. 

Yeah, you were an idiot to not believe Choso wouldn’t go nuts over this. He wasn’t going to let something so dreadfully normal, not to mention erotic, ruin his Valentine’s and especially not yours. 

You pulled a whine from him as you bit his bottom lip, earning the promised words you were especially dying to hear. “Round two, baby?”

taglist: @izakyun | @classyempathmongercloud | @rubyparsonx

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[tearsof-scarlet]

run run run - ethan landry

Pairing: Ethan Landry x female! reader

Warning: I wanted to make this more spooky/creepy than romantic. Therefore, Ethan can be pretty creepy in some parts, also yandere (?) This is your warning!

TW: Gore, blood, swearing and slight mention of childhood issues (one sentence)

Summary: You have been noticing Ethan’s eyes on you whenever you are with him and your friends. As the college semester progresses, and ghost face’s murder count goes up you can’t help but notice Ethan’s strange demeanour and his interest in becoming closer to you.

note: offically 1st october yay! spooky season so i thought this was fitting

“Do you really think it’s a good idea to come to a party tonight?” you shouted at Mindy over the bass, your voice tight with unease. “This completely breaks your own horror movie rules, doesn’t it?”

Mindy laughed, the sound tinny and distant over the noise of the party. “Oh, come on, relax, ____. There’s like a hundred people here. We’re totally safe.” She shoved a red plastic cup into your hand, the liquid inside sloshing with something strong and biting.

She glanced at you, her smile fading when she saw the look on your face—your wide, nervous eyes darting toward the dark corners of the house, your shoulders tense, like you were waiting for something to happen. Something bad.

Mindy sighed and placed a hand on your shoulder, her touch warm but uncomfortably heavy. “Hey, I get it. You’ve been stressed out with school… and everything else.” Her voice lowered, almost like she didn’t want to say it out loud. “But tonight, we need to have fun. We won’t leave each other’s sight, okay? Promise.”

Her words hovered in the air like a faint breath, barely pushing away the gnawing unease coiling in your stomach. Still, you nodded, the fight draining from you. She was right, in a way. You’d been on edge for weeks now, barely sleeping, barely leaving your dorm. The murders had done that to everyone.

Three students. Brutally killed. The last one… she had lived in your hall. You could still hear the screams echoing in your mind, as if they were happening right now. That night had changed everything. You’d run out of your room, heart pounding, only to find her crumpled on the pavement, her blood spilling thick and dark onto the cold concrete. The smell of iron had filled the air, and the sound… the slow, wet drip of her blood as it pooled beneath her still body—it had frozen you in place.

The campus police had come too late. They always came too late.

Now, you locked yourself in your room, only leaving for class. Yet here you were, standing in the middle of a frat house, surrounded by pounding bass and laughter that felt too loud, too hollow, like everyone was trying to drown out the looming terror. You took a deep breath, raised your cup in a half-hearted toast to Mindy, and gulped down the drink.

After a few more, you began to loosen up, the alcohol dulling the edge of your fear. You danced with your friends, feeling the beat pulse through your body. For a moment, you let yourself forget—forget the screams, the blood, the shadow that seemed to hang over the campus like a curse. You were having fun again.

But after a while, the room grew stifling, the sweat slicking your skin. You tapped Tara on the shoulder. “I’m gonna get some air!” you shouted over the music.

Tara glanced at you, her brow furrowing. “You want me to come with?”

You followed her gaze to Chad, who stood behind her, their hands almost touching as they danced. They’d been pining for each other for months now, and you didn’t want to interrupt. “No, I’m fine,” you assured her, forcing a smile. “I won’t go far.”

Sliding through the packed bodies, you finally pushed through the door and stepped outside. The cold night air hit you hard, and you wrapped your arms around yourself, shivering. The muted thump of the bass from inside faded into the background as you stared out into the darkness.

You pulled out your phone, squinting at the screen as a message from Sam lit up. She was checking in on Tara, as usual. As you tapped out a reply, you heard it—the faint rustling of bushes nearby. Your heart skipped. You froze, staring into the dark.

The bushes shuddered again, a sharp, unnatural sound that sliced through the stillness. Your grip tightened on your phone. “Hello?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, swallowed by the heavy silence around you.

Nothing. The stillness pressed in, suffocating. Your fingers fumbled for the flashlight on your phone, the screen blurring as your hands shook. Just as you were about to turn it on, you felt it—a hand, cold and sudden, on your shoulder.

You spun around, your scream strangled in your throat as you staggered back, slamming into the wall behind you. A tall figure loomed before you, the dim streetlight casting long, sharp shadows over their face.

“Hey! Whoa, ____! It’s just me!”

Your breath came in ragged gasps as the figure stepped closer, their features sliding into focus. It was Ethan. His hands were raised in a placating gesture, but his presence was too sudden, too close.

“Ethan…” you breathed, still trying to calm the rapid pounding in your chest. Your eyes swept over him, your mind working through the fog of panic. Ethan was Chad’s roommate, the quiet guy from econ. He seemed harmless. Quiet. Almost forgettable.

He tilted his head, his lips curving into an awkward smile. “Yeah, uh… we have econ together, remember?” His voice sounded normal, but there was something off. Something that didn’t quite fit.

You nodded slowly, but your body remained tense. Something about the way he stood there, just outside the reach of the streetlight, sent a prickling sensation crawling up your spine.

“Sorry,” you muttered, trying to laugh it off, though your voice sounded thin, hollow. “I guess I was… lost in my own world.”

Ethan chuckled softly, but the sound didn’t reach his eyes. He rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze flicking past you to the house, then back to the dark bushes. “Yeah… I called your name a couple of times, but you didn’t hear me.”

His words lingered in the air, thick with something you couldn’t quite place. You glanced at the bushes again, where the noise had come from. They were still now, but the uneasy feeling gnawed at the back of your mind.

And Ethan just stood there, watching you.

You chuckled nervously, glancing at Ethan. “I didn’t see you inside the party. Where were you?”

Ethan blinked, as if caught off guard by the question. “Oh, I actually just got here,” he explained, his voice calm but oddly flat.

You quickly checked your phone—12:45 a.m. It was late, too late to just be arriving. A strange unease curled in your gut. Something about it felt… off. Most people were already wasted by now, or had left.

“You’re a bit late, don’t you think?” you said with a forced laugh, trying to break the awkward silence hanging between you. “Why didn’t you come with Chad?”

There was a pause. Ethan’s eyes flickered, almost imperceptibly, down to your lips before meeting your gaze again. “I had to finish Mr. Smith’s econ assignment. It took longer than I thought,” he said, too quickly. His tone was casual, but there was something in the way he said it that felt rehearsed, like he’d been waiting for you to ask.

Before you could press him about it, he cut you off, his voice light but a little too eager. “So, what are you doing out here all alone?”

“I just needed some air,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “The alcohol… it’s kind of hitting me.”

Ethan’s eyes stayed locked on you, and you noticed he’d moved closer, almost without you realizing. There was barely a foot between you now, his presence looming, the subtle scent of something you couldn’t place filling the space. “I didn’t really think of you as the drinking type,” he said softly, his voice barely louder than the hum of the distant party. “I never see you at these things.”

He was closer now—too close. You could feel the warmth radiating off him, the way his shadow seemed to stretch longer, darker, in the dim light. You swallowed, your throat dry. “Yeah, it’s not really my scene,” you said with a weak smile, your attempt at humor faltering. “Mindy dragged me here. I think she just wanted to… you know… get laid.”

You forced a laugh, but it felt strange, hollow, like the words were getting caught in the thick tension around you. Ethan didn’t laugh. He just watched you, his eyes gleaming in the faint light from the streetlamp, his lips curling into something that almost looked like a smile—but there was no warmth in it.

“Yeah… I bet she did,” he said, his voice low, almost a murmur, as he tilted his head slightly. The movement was slow, deliberate, like he was studying you. You tried to take a step back, but your back was already against the wall, the cold bricks pressing into your skin through your clothes.

You noticed then how quiet it had gotten. The bass from inside the house was still thumping, but it felt distant, muted, like you were trapped in a bubble, cut off from everything. The air felt heavier now, like it was pressing down on your chest, making it hard to breathe.

Ethan’s gaze lingered on you, his expression unreadable. “Funny how we’ve never really talked before, huh? Not until now.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. There was something unsettling in the way he said it, something that made your pulse quicken, your instincts screaming at you to run. But his body blocked your path, his presence too large, too close. And as he stood there, smiling that strange, empty smile, you realized that despite the noise, the people, the lights—you were completely alone with him.

Ethan's gaze lingered on you, his smile too controlled, too deliberate. “You know,” he continued, his voice low, almost conspiratorial, “I’ve always noticed you in class. You’ve got this… quiet thing going on. It’s kind of mysterious.”

The compliment landed wrong, like a piece of shattered glass, sharp and cutting. You tried to force a smile, but the tension was becoming suffocating. You shifted, desperate to break the eye contact, to shake off the eerie feeling gnawing at your nerves.

“Uh, thanks… I guess?” you mumbled, trying to sound casual. The words felt flimsy, weak, like they were getting lost in the fog of the darkened street.

Ethan stepped closer, his breath warm on your skin now, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “It’s nice to see you outside of that classroom. I think we’d get along well… outside of school, you know?”

Maybe it was because you both never talked but you didn’t realise how handsome Ethan was. Your face flushed at his words. Your stomach twisted as your pulse quickened.

Before you could respond, the door burst open with a loud creak, and Mindy stumbled out, giggling. “Oh, there you are!” she slurred, her voice way too loud in the eerie quiet. She didn’t notice the tension clinging to the air between you and Ethan.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” she hiccuped, making her way over, nearly tripping over her own feet. “I think I’m ready to go home. You coming?” She leaned heavily on you, the smell of alcohol strong on her breath as she swayed, oblivious to the way Ethan’s expression had shifted, the smile slipping from his face, replaced by something cold and unreadable.

Your heart raced, relief flooding through you as you felt the weight of her body against yours. “Yeah, let’s go,” you said quickly, forcing a smile as you gently peeled yourself away from Ethan’s proximity. “It’s getting late.”

Ethan’s gaze flicked between the two of you, his smile returning but now strained, his eyes darker. “Leaving already?” he asked, his voice casual, but something sharp lurked beneath it. “I thought we were just starting to have fun.”

Mindy snorted, completely unaware of the tension. “Oh please, fun can wait until tomorrow! I’m totally wasted.”

You gave Ethan a tight smile, your heart still pounding. “Yeah, maybe I’ll see you tomorrow,” you echoed, though the last thing you wanted was to see him again.

He didn’t move, didn’t say anything, just watched as you turned away with Mindy. The chill in the air felt sharper now, like icy fingers brushing against your skin. As you walked away, you could feel his eyes boring into your back, the weight of his stare following you down the dark street.

And just before you crossed the threshold of the house, Mindy tugging you inside, you risked one last glance over your shoulder.

Ethan was still standing there, his figure barely visible in the shadows, his smile gone. His eyes gleamed under the streetlamp, locked on you, unblinking, as if he were watching and waiting for something only he knew was coming.

The next morning, you woke up with a pounding headache, the dull throb of a hangover pulsing behind your eyes. The room spun slightly as you blinked into the dim light, trying to piece together fragments of the night before. Mindy was sprawled next to you on the couch, still out cold, her hair a mess, and her phone clutched loosely in her hand. The sound of muffled voices drifted from outside your apartment door, but you were too groggy to make sense of them.

You sat up slowly, rubbing your temples and groaning. The room felt too quiet, too still, after the chaos of the party. For a moment, everything seemed normal, and you almost let yourself forget the creeping sense of dread that had followed you all night.

Just as you were about to lie back down, the door burst open, and Sam, Tara, and Chad hurried in, their faces pale and grim. Tara looked especially shaken, her hands trembling as she pushed her hair out of her face.

“What the hell—” you started, but the words stuck in your throat when you saw their expressions.

Sam, always the calm one, stepped forward, her eyes locking onto yours with a seriousness that sent a chill down your spine. “You heard what happened last night, right?”

You frowned, confused. “What are you talking about?”

Chad closed the door behind them, his face unusually somber. “There was another murder,” he said, his voice low. “Just a block from the party. They found a student—his throat was slashed.”

Your stomach dropped. You glanced at Mindy, who was starting to stir, but her groggy movements felt far away as the weight of Chad’s words settled over you.

“What?” you whispered, feeling the blood drain from your face. “Who—who was it?”

Sam swallowed; her voice carefully controlled. “Noah. From your economics class.”

The world seemed to tilt as the name hit you like a punch to the gut. Noah. You blinked, trying to process what they were telling you. Noah, the funny guy from class, the one you used to crush on. The guy you hadn’t thought about in months, suddenly gone.

You stared at them; your mouth dry. “Noah? But I—” You trailed off, your mind racing. Noah. You’d passed him in the halls, seen him during class, always on the edges of your thoughts but never close enough to matter. And now… now he was dead?

“When?” Mindy mumbled groggily, finally waking up, rubbing her eyes as she sat up. “What’s going on?”

Tara bit her lip, her eyes filled with worry. “Last night. Before we left the party. It happened not far from where you guys were. It could’ve been one of us.”

You shivered, flashes of last night coming back in fragmented images. The party. The alcohol. The darkness outside. And Ethan… standing there under the streetlamp, watching you with that strange, lingering look. But none of you suspected him. Why would you? Ethan was quiet, awkward even. Harmless. You hadn’t even really thought about him when you left the party, your mind too occupied with getting Mindy home and crashing for the night.

You shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts. “I… I didn’t even hear anything,” you stammered. “We were right there.”

Chad crossed his arms, his brow furrowed. “None of us did. It must’ve happened after the party started dying down.”

Sam stepped closer, her expression grim. “You knew him, right? Noah?”

You nodded slowly, your heart heavy with the weight of the name. “Yeah… we had econ together. We weren’t close or anything, but… I used to have a crush on him. A long time ago.”

Tara sighed, her voice soft with sympathy. “I’m so sorry, ____. This is messed up. First the other murders, and now this? What if the killer is still around? What if they’re targeting more people?”

You bit your lip, the knot of fear tightening in your chest. The thought of the killer being that close… of someone hunting students like prey, sent a shiver down your spine. Noah’s face flashed in your mind, and you couldn’t help but wonder—had he been scared? Had he known what was coming?

 “I… I need a minute,” you muttered, standing abruptly. Sam reached out as if to stop you, but you pulled away, your thoughts swirling too fast to keep up. “I just need some air, okay?”

Without waiting for a response, you grabbed your bag and slipped out the door. The cool hallway air hit your skin, but it didn’t do much to calm your racing mind. The echoes of the conversation, of another person’s death, followed you down the stairs and into the street. The bustling campus felt distant, as if everything had slowed, the reality of another murder dragging you into a fog of anxiety.

The library was where you ended up, the one place that had always helped you focus. The quiet, the smell of old books, the heavy silence — it usually worked like a balm for your nerves. But not today. You slid into one of the back study booths, pulled out your econ notes, and stared blankly at the words. Your mind was far from the pages in front of you.

The quiet in the library should have been comforting, but it was almost too quiet. The silence was thick, unsettling. Every creak of a chair or shuffle of papers seemed amplified, and you kept glancing up, half-expecting someone to be watching you.

You shook your head, trying to shove the creeping paranoia aside. You had to keep it together, for your sake and for your friends’. With a campus killer still out there, you had to be on guard.

But then, the sound of footsteps broke through the quiet, slow and deliberate, heading in your direction. You looked up, and there, standing just a few feet from your booth, was Ethan.

His expression was cautious, his eyes scanning the empty tables around you before settling on yours. “Hey,” he said, his voice softer than usual, almost too soft for the silence of the library.

Your stomach clenched, the eerie feeling from last night creeping back. You hadn’t seen him at the party after that strange conversation outside, and now here he was, showing up again when you were alone.

“Hey,” you said, forcing a tight smile. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Ethan shrugged, his hands shoved into his pockets as he shifted on his feet. “Yeah, I’ve been trying to catch up on some work. Thought I’d check in on you, though… I heard about Noah. It's messed up.”

You nodded, swallowing hard as your eyes flicked back to your notes. “Yeah, it is. I can’t believe it.”

He didn’t sit down, but he leaned slightly against the edge of the table, his eyes never leaving you. “Were you guys close?”

You shook your head. “Not really… we had classes together. That’s it.”

Ethan’s face was hard to read, his concern genuine, but there was something off, something that didn’t sit right. Maybe it was just the paranoia creeping in again, but the fact that he was here, now, of all places, unsettled you.

“I mean,” you continued, “it’s just… I don’t know, I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.” You tried to focus on your notes, but his presence made it impossible to concentrate.

“I get it,” Ethan said, his voice barely above a whisper. “It's scary. A lot of people are on edge right now. I guess you were pretty close to where it happened, too.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the memory of last night flashing in your mind — the way Ethan had appeared out of nowhere under the streetlamp. “Yeah… I guess we were.”

He nodded slowly, his gaze a little too intense, lingering on your face. “You sure you’re okay? You look… tense.”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, the lie slipping out before you could think. “Just a lot to process.”

Ethan frowned, his eyes flicking to your hands, which were gripping your pen a little too tightly. “If you ever need to talk… I’m around.”

You forced another smile. “Thanks, Ethan. I appreciate it.”

But even as the words left your mouth, a part of you screamed to get away. Something was wrong, but you couldn’t quite place it. Maybe it was the fact that Noah had just been murdered, or maybe it was the way Ethan kept showing up, always just on the edge of things.

Before he could say anything else, you packed up your notes. “I should get going,” you said, standing abruptly. “Got a lot of studying to do.”

“Wait,” Ethan said quickly as you turned to leave. “Let me walk you home. I don’t think it’s safe to be out here alone right now.”

You hesitated for a moment, a part of you wanting to refuse out of stubbornness, but the darkness outside felt heavy, and the unease gnawing at your gut pushed you to accept. “Okay,” you replied, trying to sound casual. “That’d be… nice.”

As you stepped out of the library, the chill in the air was sharper than before. You pulled your jacket tighter around you, glancing sideways at Ethan, who fell into step beside you. The shadows from the trees danced eerily in the dim streetlights, and a part of you felt relieved to have him there.

“I can’t believe another student was murdered,” you said, trying to break the silence. “It’s terrifying. I didn’t think it would hit this close to home.”

Ethan nodded, his expression somber. “I know. It’s crazy to think we were all just at that party, and now…” He trailed off, and you could sense the weight of the situation hanging over both of you.

As you walked, you started to relax a little, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease with each step.  Ethan smiled faintly. “It’s strange how quickly things can change, isn’t it? One moment, you’re just living your life, and the next, it’s like the ground gets pulled out from under you.”

You glanced at him, surprised by how relatable he was being. “Yeah, exactly. It makes you realize how fragile everything is.”

The two of you walked in silence for a few moments, the only sounds being the distant laughter from the campus and the rustle of leaves in the breeze. It felt oddly comforting to share this moment, and you found yourself more at ease with him than before.

As you approached your apartment building, Ethan turned to you, his expression earnest. “You know, if you ever need someone to walk you home or just… hang out, you can text me. I don’t mind being your personal escort.” He chuckled lightly, and the warmth in his tone made you smile.

“Really?” you asked, surprised by the offer. “You don’t have to do that. I don’t want to put you out or anything.”

Ethan shrugged, his hands still stuffed in his pockets. “It’s not a problem at all. I’d feel better knowing you’re safe. Besides, it gives me an excuse to hang out with you more.”

There was a brief pause, and you could feel your heart flutter slightly at his words. “Okay, I’ll take you up on that. It’s nice to know I have someone to walk with.”

He pulled out his phone and quickly punched in a number, then handed it to you. “Here, just in case. Text me if you need anything. I mean it.”

You took the phone, your fingers brushing against his as you typed in your number. A small thrill coursed through you, but the tension in the back of your mind was still there, whispering caution. “Thanks, Ethan. I appreciate it.”

“Anytime,” he said, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “Just stay safe, alright? I’ll be around.”

You nodded, watching as he walked away, a strange mix of comfort and unease settling in your stomach. The night felt darker now, but somehow less lonely with the thought that you had someone looking out for you. Yet the nagging feeling that something wasn’t quite right lingered in the air, a shadow that refused to be ignored.

As you entered your apartment, you couldn’t shake the feeling that while Ethan might seem harmless, the world outside was anything but. You locked the door behind you and leaned against it, letting out a shaky breath, reminding yourself to stay alert. With a killer still on the loose, it was more important than ever to watch your back.

The silence in your apartment felt heavy as you settled onto the couch, trying to shake off the remnants of the day. Mindy had gone out with Anika, leaving you alone, and while a part of you relished the quiet, another part was restless. The unsettling news about Noah echoed in your mind, refusing to fade into the background.

Just as you reached for the TV remote, your phone buzzed. You glanced at the screen, surprised to see an unknown number. Hesitating for a moment, you answered. “Hello?”

“Hello, ____” a voice purred, low and taunting. Your stomach dropped as you recognized the sinister tone that sent shivers down your spine.

“Who is this?” you demanded, trying to keep your voice steady despite the fear creeping in.

“You don’t know who I am?” the voice teased, dripping with menace. “I just wanted to check in on you. Heard you were scared. Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. In fact, I’m going to enjoy ripping your skin apart.”

The threat hung in the air like a dark cloud, your heart racing. “You think you can scare me? You’re pathetic,” you shot back, surprising yourself with your own bravado. “How about you actually do something and come get me.”

“Me do something?” the voice on the other end laughed, “I saw you standing there watching that poor girl bleed out. Didn’t really look like you were doing much to help her, hm?”

The hand holding your phone began to shake bringing up the memory. “You fucking asshole.” You swore as your voice shook.

A pause followed, and the voice chuckled softly. “I love it when you play tough. It makes this even more exciting.”

“Show your face you fucking coward!”

Just then, the door to Mindy’s room creaked open, and your heart stopped. Out burst a figure clad in a Ghostface costume, the mask reflecting the dim light of the room, a glint of a knife in hand. Panic surged as you realized that you hadn’t checked that room all day.

Without thinking, you bolted from the couch, instinct taking over as you lunged for the nearest kitchen chair. The figure rushed at you, the blade aimed right for your gut, but you were faster. You swung the chair hard, knocking him off balance. Although he missed your stomach, it didn’t stop the blade from slicing your cheek as he stumbled.

You screamed feeling the blood dripping down your face, adrenaline pushing you to fight back.

The assailant stumbled back, momentarily caught off guard. You seized the opportunity and swung the chair again, this time connecting with his shoulder, making him grunt in surprise.

Despite his height and strength, you were determined. You could see the flash of annoyance beneath the mask, and that fuelled your fight.  He lunged again, but you ducked just in time, the blade slicing through the air where you’d just been standing. You grabbed a nearby knife from the counter, holding it defensively in front of you.

The Ghostface figure paused, seeming to weigh his options. Slowly he lifted his voice changer “You’re braver than I thought,” he said, the amusement in his voice clear even through the mask.

He ran cornering you in the kitchen, grabbing your wrist and attempting to twist the knife from your grasp. You fought against his grip, adrenaline surging as you twisted your body and kicked him in the knee. He staggered back, the knife slipping from your hand but not before you landed another blow against his side.

You heard him growl under the mask, but there was a hint of surprise in his voice. You were stronger than he had anticipated.

You quickly glanced around, searching for anything to help you. The phone! You needed to call for help. You darted toward the living room, but he was right on your heels.

With every ounce of determination, you turned to face him again, prepared to fight.

He lunged again, and you barely managed to sidestep, shoving him hard enough to send him crashing to the floor. The knife clattered away, its metallic sound echoing in the silence of the apartment. Your heart raced as you scrambled to grab it, but before you could reach it, you felt a grip around your ankle, yanking you back down to the floor with a brutal thud. The impact knocked the air from your lungs, and you gasped, struggling to catch your breath as you looked over.

Ghostface was rising from the ground, his silhouette dark and menacing. Panic surged through you as you reached for the knife again, your fingertips just grazing its handle. If only you could stretch a little further. But before you could grasp it, a heavy black leather boot crushed down on your hand, eliciting a shriek of agony from your lips. The masked figure loomed over you, his eyes locked onto yours as he snatched the knife from the floor, a glimmer of triumph flashing in the dim light.

He straddled you, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand, leaving you utterly helpless. The ghostly mask was a mere breath away, its hollow eyes boring into your soul. Terror coursed through you, your body writhing beneath him as exhaustion threatened to pull you under.

With a sickening gentleness, he brushed a hand along the open gash on your cheek, spreading the blood across your skin like a twisted artist painting his masterpiece. You cringed, disgust and fear mingling in your gut, as he raised the knife, the blade catching the light and reflecting it back at you in a wicked flash.

Your heart pounded in your chest as he traced the knife down your jawline, then across your chest, the cold steel drawing dangerously close to your heart. Just as he lifted the knife above his head, preparing to plunge it down, a thunderous banging erupted from the front door, drowning the room in chaos. Keys jangled, and frantic voices shouted your name, echoing through the apartment.

Ghostface froze, the knife suspended in the air, his breath coming in sharp, angry huffs as he glanced toward the noise. You could almost feel the anger radiating off him, the momentary distraction breaking his focus. His eyes narrowed as he weighed his options, the dark mask hiding a tempest of rage and frustration beneath.

The eyes of his masks bore into you, a sinister promise lingering in the air that he would return to finish you off. Slowly, he backed away, the blade still glinting ominously in his grasp, leaving you gasping for breath on the floor, the taste of fear lingering on your tongue. You could only watch as he melted into the shadows, knowing he would return.

Before you could respond, he darted towards Mindy’s room, you heard the sound of the killer throwing the window open just as you heard the pounding of footsteps outside your door.

You stood there, heart pounding in your chest, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. The reality of what just happened crashed down on you, but you weren’t going to let fear consume you. You had fought back, and you were still standing.

As the door burst open and Mindy, Anika, and a couple of campus security officers rushed in, you turned to them still on the ground, shaking but resolute. “Oh my god ____!” Mindy yelled. “Are you alright?”

“Did you really have to leave your window open?” You half joked to her closing your eyes about to pass out from exhaustion.

The night was far from over, but you knew one thing for sure: you weren’t going to let fear control you. You would fight back, no matter the cost.

The next morning, the sunlight barely broke through the curtains, casting a muted glow in your apartment. The events of last night played on a loop in your mind, the terror still fresh as you wrapped yourself in a blanket, sitting on the couch with trembling hands.

A knock on the door startled you, and your heart raced again. Cautiously, you got up and peeked through the peephole. Relief washed over you when you saw Ethan standing there, a box of donuts in his hands, looking slightly dishevelled but earnest.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door. “Hey,” you greeted, trying to mask your unease with a half-smile.

“Hey! I brought you some donuts,” he said, lifting the box in a gesture of goodwill. “Thought you might need some comfort food after… everything.”

You stepped aside to let him in, the warmth of his presence both comforting and disquieting. As he settled on the kitchen island, you could feel the tension still lingering in the air between you. Ethan opened the box, revealing an array of sugary treats. “I figured these would help brighten your day,” he said, trying to sound cheerful.

“Thanks,” you replied, grabbing a donut but not really feeling like eating. “It’s really sweet of you.”

He took a bite of a donut, flashing a smile, but the moment felt strained. You could sense his concern, but all you could think about was the adrenaline and fear still coursing through your veins from last night. Finally, the unease bubbled to the surface, and you cut through the pleasantries. “Where were you last night, Ethan?”

His expression changed instantly, the warmth in his eyes replaced by something unreadable. “What do you mean?” he asked, brow furrowing slightly.

“I just… I didn’t see you. I thought maybe you were around,” you said, your voice trembling a little, unsure of where this was heading.

A shadow passed over his face, and he leaned back slightly, folding his arms across his chest. “You don’t think it was me that attacked you, do you?”

The question hung in the air, thick and suffocating. You could feel your heart race again, the way he said it made you question everything. “I—” you stammered, but the thought had already taken root in your mind. You couldn’t help but make note of Ethan next to the kitchen knives.

“I mean, I was just worried about you,” he continued, his voice steady but his eyes betraying a hint of defensiveness. “I didn’t know what was happening until Chad called me.”

“Right, but…” you hesitated, searching his face for any signs of deceit. “You know I was attacked, and it just feels… strange that you’re here right after it happened.”

Ethan’s expression hardened, the playful demeanour falling away completely. “Strange? Because I care about you?” His tone had shifted, and the tension in the room was palpable, wrapping around you like a rope.

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words and the implications behind them. “I just… I don’t know who to trust right now,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ethan held your gaze, his eyes piercing as if trying to gauge your sincerity. “I would never hurt you,” he said firmly, the conviction in his voice sending chills down your spine. “You know that, right?”

You wanted to believe him, but the events of last night played back in your mind, and the uncertainty clawed at your insides. “It’s just hard to feel safe,” you replied, dropping your gaze to the floor, the donuts forgotten between you.

He reached out, placing a hand on your knee, and you flinched at the sudden contact, your body still on high alert. “I get it. I do. But I’m here for you, and I promise I’ll help you feel safe,” he said, the earnestness returning to his voice.

As you looked up at him, the doubt still lingered, swirling in the back of your mind. You wanted to trust him, but fear was a powerful force, twisting your thoughts and making you question everything, even the intentions of those closest to you.

Ethan's gaze softened as he searched your eyes, the tension in the room slowly ebbing. “Look, I know this is a lot to take in,” he began, his voice low and steady. “But there’s something I need to tell you. Something I’ve wanted to say for a long time.”

Your heart raced, anticipation and fear swirling within you. “What is it?” you asked, your breath hitching slightly.

He hesitated for a moment, as if weighing his words carefully. “I’ve always liked you,” he confessed, his tone sincere. “Since the first time we met in class, I thought you were amazing. Smart, funny... just… you.”

The admission caught you off guard, a rush of emotions flooding through you. “Ethan, I—” you started, but he quickly cut you off.

“Please, let me finish,” he urged, his intensity making you feel exposed and vulnerable. “When I heard about what happened, I couldn’t just sit back and do nothing. I was scared, and I realized how much I care about you. I didn’t want to admit it before, but now… with everything happening, it feels wrong not to.”

Your mind raced as his words hung in the air. You’d always found Ethan intriguing, his easy charm and confidence drawing you in. But now, faced with the reality of the threat that loomed over you, emotions were tangled in a chaotic mess.

“I appreciate you saying that,” you replied, your voice trembling. “But right now, I’m just trying to process everything. It’s hard to think about… feelings when I’m just trying to stay alive.”

“I get that,” he said, his expression shifting to one of understanding. “But I want to help you. If it means being there for you, then that’s what I’ll do. I’m not just saying this because of what happened last night; I genuinely want to be part of your life.”

You felt your defences waver as you looked into his eyes, seeing a sincerity that calmed some of the fear gripping you. “And what if it was you?” you asked quietly, still grappling with your thoughts. “What if you’re just saying this now to—”

“Shh,” he interrupted softly, reaching out to gently take your hand in his. “I promise you, it wasn’t me. I couldn’t hurt you, not now, not ever. Please believe that.” His grip was firm, a grounding force amidst the chaos in your mind.

As the weight of his words settled, you found a flicker of comfort in his touch. “I want to believe you, Ethan. It’s just… everything feels so twisted right now. I need time.”

“Take all the time you need,” he assured, his thumb brushing over your knuckles soothingly. “But I’ll be here. Whenever you need someone to talk to, or even if you just want company, I’ll be here.”

You nodded slowly, grateful for his support but still wary. The confession lingered between you, adding complexity to your relationship in a time of crisis. “Thanks for the donuts, by the way,” you said, trying to lighten the mood. “They might be exactly what I need right now.”

A small smile broke through his serious facade. “Just trying to make sure you’re taken care of,” he replied, his voice warmer now.

You both shared a brief laugh, the tension in the air easing slightly, but beneath it all, the fear remained—a reminder that danger still lurked outside your door. As you sat there, hand in hand, you knew that while you were still scared, you had someone willing to stand by you through the darkness.

As the silence stretched between you, the air thick with unspoken emotions, you both locked eyes, a magnetic pull drawing you closer. Ethan’s gaze flickered over your face, pausing at your lips, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze.

Without thinking, you both lunged toward each other, colliding in a rush of warmth and urgency. The kiss was electric, igniting a spark that sent a thrill coursing through you. You could taste the sweetness of the donuts on his lips, mingling with the desperation of the moment. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer, deepening the connection as your bodies pressed together.

You melted into him, the chaos of the night before fading into the background. This was a moment of escape, a breath of fresh air amidst the horror. His lips moved against yours with a passion that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. It felt as though everything around you had vanished, leaving only the two of you in this intimate bubble.

Ethan pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, breaths mingling in the shared space between you. “Wow,” he whispered, a mix of surprise and delight dancing in his eyes. “I didn’t expect that.”

“Neither did I,” you admitted, your heart racing. The heat of the kiss lingered on your lips, and you couldn’t help but smile. “But it felt… right.”

“Yeah, it really did.” He searched your face, his expression earnest. “I just want you to know, whatever happens next, I’m here for you. Not just because of… everything going on, but because I want to be.”

You nodded, feeling a rush of affection for him. “I appreciate that, Ethan. I really do.” The weight of his words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and you felt a sense of safety in his presence.

Before you could say more, the sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway, breaking the moment. Your heart sank slightly, the reality of the situation crashing back in. “I think Mindy and Anika are back,” you said, glancing toward the door.

Ethan nodded, the momentary intimacy still hanging in the air as he pulled back, his hands reluctantly leaving your waist. “Let’s talk more later?” he suggested, a hopeful smile on his face.

“Definitely,” you replied, feeling a rush of warmth. You could sense that this was just the beginning, and despite the lingering fear, a spark of hope flickered in your chest.

Just then, the door swung open, and Mindy entered, her face a mix of concern and relief. “Hey, you two! I hope we’re not interrupting anything too serious…” She trailed off, a teasing smile forming as she glanced between you and Ethan.

You exchanged a quick, sheepish look with Ethan, the reality of the moment settling in. “Just… talking,” you said, trying to play it cool.

Mindy raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced but willing to let it slide. “Well, good. Because we need to figure out what our next steps are. We can’t let that creep get away with what he did.”

Ethan nodded, his demeanour shifting back to seriousness. “Absolutely. We need to come up with a plan to keep everyone safe.”

As you shifted back to the reality of the situation, you couldn’t shake the warmth of the kiss and the promise of what was to come. You were still scared, but you weren’t alone anymore.

You gathered in the living room, the atmosphere tense but charged with a newfound determination. Ethan leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, while Mindy paced in front of the group, her eyes alight with purpose. Sam and Tara exchanged anxious glances, while Chad fiddled nervously with his phone. Sam stood at the center, ready to take charge.

“Okay, listen up,” Sam said, raising her voice to draw everyone’s attention. “We need a plan. We can’t let Ghostface get to any of us again.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you. “If we stick together, we have a better chance of trapping him. We can’t let him pick us off one by one.”

Chad nodded eagerly. “Yeah, if we can lure him out somehow, we can catch him off guard. I mean, he’s just a person, right? We can take him. Sam found a place we can use as a base. It’s an old house out in the woods. We can fortify it and use it as a safe zone.”

Ethan straightened; his expression serious. Mindy raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “An occupied home? You’re sure it’s safe?”

Sam nodded. “I did some research. It’s been vacant for a while, and it’s far enough away from campus that we can keep a low profile. We can set up defenses and make a plan to draw Ghostface in.”

Tara chimed in, her voice steady. “I like it. We can set up cameras, make sure we know when he’s around. We can create distractions if he tries to sneak up on us.”

You felt a flicker of hope as the group rallied around the idea. Everyone was on board, and for the first time since the attack, you felt a sense of unity. You exchanged a glance with Ethan, and he gave you a reassuring nod.

“Let’s gather what we need,” Sam continued, her voice firm. “We’ll head to the house, set up defenses, and then we can discuss how we want to draw him out. This ends tonight.”

As the group began to disperse, you felt a rush of adrenaline. The fear was still there, lurking just beneath the surface, but with your friends by your side, you felt like you could face anything.

“Hey,” Ethan said, catching your arm before you left the room. “Are you okay? I mean… after everything.”

You smiled softly, grateful for his concern. “I’m hanging in there. But I’ll be better once we put a stop to this.”

He grinned, the tension easing between you. “Good. We’ll figure this out together.”

As the others gathered supplies and made plans, you felt a mix of anxiety and determination. This was your chance to take control, to reclaim your life and confront the horror that had invaded your world.

Later that evening, you all piled into a couple of cars, the air thick with a sense of urgency. As you drove away from campus, the shadows of the trees loomed ominously, but you felt a spark of hope lighting the way. You were no longer just running scared — you were ready to fight back.

When you finally arrived at the house, its dark silhouette against the night sky sent a chill down your spine. But you reminded yourself of the goal. Inside, you would find a way to take down Ghostface once and for all.

As you stepped inside, the creaky floorboards groaned beneath your feet, and you shared a nervous glance with the group. This was it. Time to prepare. Time to take a stand.

The atmosphere inside the old house was tense as you all set up makeshift defences. Knives were scattered across surfaces, each of you staying close to one another, forming a protective circle. The flickering lights cast unsettling shadows on the walls, heightening the feeling of unease.

As you went through your makeshift plans, Mindy suddenly paused, her eyes narrowing. “Did anyone else hear that?” she asked, her voice low and cautious.

Everyone fell silent, straining to listen. The faint creak of the floorboards echoed from the other side of the house, sending a shiver down your spine. Sam exchanged worried glances with the group, her brows furrowed in concern. “We need to split up and check it out,” she decided, though you could hear the reluctance in her tone.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Tara interjected; her voice tinged with anxiety. “What if it’s Ghostface?”

“We’ll be careful,” Sam reassured, her voice steady. “We can cover more ground this way. Just keep your phones on and stay in contact.”

Reluctantly, you all agreed. You formed smaller groups to search the house, your heart racing as you and Ethan ended up together, the two of you making your way to a secluded area of the building that seemed to grow darker with each step.

“Great,” you muttered, trying to shake off the unease. “Just the two of us in the creepy part of the house.”

Ethan smiled slightly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “At least we have knives,” he said, gesturing to the weapon in your hand. But as you glanced at him, his demeanor shifted. The playfulness faded, replaced by something darker.

“So… who do you think Ghostface is?” he asked, his voice low and almost conspiratorial. “I mean, do you have any suspects?”

You felt a chill run down your spine. His gaze was intense, studying you as if trying to gauge your reaction. “I don’t know,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light. “Could be anyone, right?”

Ethan stepped closer, invading your personal space, and the mood shifted again. “But what if it’s someone we know?” His eyes locked onto yours, and you could see a hint of something unsettling in them. “What if it’s someone we trust?”

You shifted uncomfortably, the walls of the secluded area feeling like they were closing in on you. “Ethan, this isn’t really the time for this kind of talk,” you said, your heart racing.

He didn’t step back, though; instead, he leaned in a little closer. “I just want to make sure you’re safe, you know? There’s a lot at stake here. I mean, do you really think any of us are safe?”

His words hung heavy in the air, and you took a step back, trying to maintain your composure. “I think we’ll be fine as long as we stick together. That’s what we agreed on.”

He tilted his head slightly, a strange smile curling on his lips. “Together, sure. But what if we’re not safe even in a group? What if Ghostface is just waiting for the right moment to pick us off?”

You felt the knot in your stomach tighten. “I don’t want to think about that, Ethan. We need to stay focused on finding him.”

Ethan chuckled softly, but there was an edge to it, a hint of something menacing lurking beneath the surface. “You’re right. Focus is key. But just remember…” He leaned in a bit closer, lowering his voice. “Trust can be a dangerous game.”

Before you could respond, a loud crash echoed through the house, followed by frantic shouts from the others. Panic surged through you as adrenaline spiked, drowning out Ethan’s unsettling presence.

“Ethan, we need to go!” you urged, moving toward the sound of your friends’ voices. But he hesitated, his eyes flickering with something unreadable.

“Are you sure you want to?” he asked, a hint of challenge in his tone.

You didn’t have time for this. “Yes! Come on!” you shouted, your heart racing as you bolted toward the noise, the weight of uncertainty and dread settling heavily in your chest. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very wrong, and you needed to get back to the others before it was too late.

Ethan’s hand clasped around yours as you both sprinted toward the sounds of your friends, the adrenaline pumping through your veins. Each footstep echoed in the dimly lit halls, your heart racing with a mix of fear and determination.

“What did you hear?” you asked breathlessly, glancing back at him as you approached the living room where the others had gathered.

Chad looked up, his expression tense. “It sounded like something fell over. But now it’s… silent.”

You exchanged worried glances with Sam, Mindy, and Tara. “Shouldn’t we check it out?” you asked, a sense of foreboding creeping into your thoughts.

Ethan and Chad nodded at each other, an unspoken agreement passing between them. “We’ll go check the basement,” Ethan said, determination etched on his face. “You girls stay here. Just keep an eye out.”

As the two of them headed toward the basement door, you felt a mix of relief and anxiety wash over you. You turned to the girls, trying to focus on the task at hand. “Okay, we need to come up with a plan in case Ghostface shows up again.”

But just as you began to strategize, the sudden shrill ring of a phone cut through the stillness of the house, causing everyone to jump. You instinctively checked your pockets, and a sinking feeling filled your stomach when you realized it was your phone ringing.

“Oh no,” you whispered, the colour draining from your face as the familiar number flashed on the screen—an unknown caller.

“Don’t answer it!” Tara urged, but your hand moved almost instinctively to accept the call, your curiosity mingling with dread.

“Hello?” you managed, your voice shaky.

A chilling laugh echoed through the speaker, and you felt your blood run cold. “Poor ____,” Ghostface taunted, his voice dripping with malice. “I bet you think you’re really smart, thinking you and your friends can outsmart me.”

The tension in the room grew thick as Sam mouthed to you to keep him talking. The other girls glanced nervously around the room, ready to react at the slightest indication of danger.

“Why are you calling me?” you said, trying to sound braver than you felt. “What do you want?”

“Want?” he echoed mockingly. “I want you to feel that delicious thrill of fear. You should be grateful; I’m giving you a front-row seat to your own demise.”

Panic surged through you, but you forced yourself to remain calm. “You won’t get away with this,” you said, attempting to sound strong. “We’re going to stop you.”

“Is that so?” he said, his voice low and menacing. “And how exactly do you plan to do that? Your little friends are scattered, and soon they won’t know what hit them. You’re all alone now.”

Your heart raced as you took a step back, feeling trapped in this conversation. The thought of being alone in this vast, dark house made your skin crawl. “You’re wrong. I’m not alone. My friends are here, and they’ll come for me.”

“Come for you?” he laughed, a chilling sound that echoed through the line. “By the time they realize what’s really happening, it’ll be too late. They’re too busy playing their little games.”

As his words sunk in, your grip on the phone tightened. “What do you mean?” you asked, forcing yourself to stay engaged, though every instinct told you to hang up and run.

“Just that… your little heroes in the basement might find something they weren’t expecting. It’s always the last place you look, isn’t it?”

Your breath hitched at his words, realization dawning. You had to warn Ethan and Chad. “What did you do?” you demanded, feeling a mix of anger and fear bubbling within you.

“Let’s just say, your friends are in for a surprise. Tick tock, ____.”

You stared at the phone in shock, your heart racing, the ringing in your ears mingling with the chilling echo of Ghostface’s laughter still haunting you. “No… no…” you whispered, dread coiling tightly around your chest as the weight of panic settled in like a dark fog.

“What did he say?” Tara urged, stepping closer, her eyes wide with concern and fear.

“He’s messing with Ethan and Chad. We have to find them now!” you cried, urgency flooding your voice as you turned toward the basement door, dread gnawing at your gut.

“No, ____! You have to stay here and keep him talking,” Sam insisted, her voice sharp and firm, cutting through your panic.

You shook your head, the thought of having to endure another second of his taunts twisting like a knife in your heart. “I can’t—”

“Yes, you can!” Mindy said, gripping your shoulders tightly, her gaze steady yet filled with urgency. “We’ll go check the basement. We have to make sure they’re safe.”

The tears you’d been holding back slipped down your cheeks, and you nodded reluctantly, understanding the weight of their decision. The thought of being alone, trapped in the dark, sent shivers down your spine, but the fear for Ethan and Chad pushed you to comply.

All three of them shared a final, encouraging look before rushing down the basement stairs, their voices echoing as they called out for Chad and Ethan. Your heart raced as you watched them disappear, the basement door swinging wide open—a sliver of safety in the enveloping darkness.

Now you were alone in the decaying house, the silence swallowing you whole, only the distant laughter of Ghostface echoing in your mind.

Taking a shaky breath, you steadied yourself and held the phone tightly, the weight of the ghostly presence looming over you. You needed to keep him engaged, to buy your friends time, but the thought of his voice on the line sent chills crawling up your spine.

“Hello?” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, trembling with fear.

“Poor ____,” he crooned, the mockery in his tone sending a shiver of revulsion through you. “All alone now? Your precious friends can’t help you anymore.”

A surge of anger ignited within you, forcing you to push through the terror. “What do you want?” you spat, your voice trembling but fierce.

“I want you to feel that delicious thrill of fear, the kind that makes your heart race and your blood run cold. You’re all so naïve, thinking you can outsmart me.” His laughter bubbled through the line, sinister and echoing.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you lied, trying to mask the tremor in your voice, gripping the phone so tightly your knuckles turned white.

“Is that so?” he teased, a dark amusement lurking in his words. “I can hear it in your voice. Your heart is pounding, and soon it will be pounding even faster.”

The oppressive silence of the house pressed in on you, each creak of the floorboards amplifying your dread. You could almost feel his presence lurking in the shadows, waiting, watching. You scanned all around the room listening for any noise.

“Where are they?” you demanded, forcing yourself to sound braver. “What have you done?”

“Where are they?” he echoed, mockingly. “Maybe they’re just playing hide and seek. Or maybe they’ve found a new game… one that ends with a little more blood.”

Your breath caught in your throat as the realization washed over you. “You won’t get away with this,” you hissed, desperation creeping into your words.

“Get away?” he laughed, the sound echoing around you like a haunting melody. “Oh, darling, I’m just getting started.”

As his mocking words echoed in your ears, the sudden sound of the basement door slamming shut jolted you into a state of pure terror. “No!” you screamed, instinctively moving toward the now locked door, panic surging through your veins. You pounded your fists against it, desperate to break it down.

“Take a step closer and I’ll kill them all,” Ghostface hissed, his voice cold and menacing.

“Please, don’t!” you pleaded, fear clawing at your throat. The realization of your friends being in danger wrapped around you like a snake, squeezing the air from your lungs.

He continued to taunt you, relishing in your desperation. “They’re so busy playing their little games, they won’t even know what hit them. You should have stayed quiet, ____.”

Each word dripped with malice, but as the panic began to simmer, a seething anger replaced your fear. “I swear to God I’ll kill you myself, you piece of shit!” you shouted, your voice filled with raw defiance.

In that moment, the door behind you swung open, and before you could react, Ghostface lunged forward, wrapping his arms around you. He lifted you effortlessly, pulling you away from the door, his grip like iron.

You struggled violently, twisting and turning, trying to break free from his grasp. “Let go of me!” you screamed, kicking and thrashing, but he held you tight, a sickening grin hidden beneath the mask.

Then you heard the unmistakable sound of a blade being drawn, the metal whispering against the air, much larger than the knives you and your friends had brought. Your heart raced as he moved the knife toward your chest, the cold steel glinting ominously in the dim light.

Summoning every ounce of strength and adrenaline you could muster, you grabbed his wrist with both hands, forcing it away from your body. The blade grazed your skin, but you pushed with all your might, breaking his hold for just a moment.

In a last desperate attempt, you threw your head back, feeling the satisfying crunch of your skull meeting his face. He let out a surprised grunt and dropped you, the sudden release sending you tumbling to the floor.

You didn’t hesitate. You scrambled to your feet and bolted for the open door, adrenaline pumping through your veins as you raced down the hallway, heart pounding like a war drum in your chest.

You glanced back just in time to see Ghostface regaining his composure, fury etched into his movements as he lunged after you. The mask hid his expression, but you could feel the rage emanating from him like a dark cloud, fuelling your determination to escape.

You sprinted through the narrow corridors of the decaying house, fear pushing you forward as you sought an exit, a way to warn your friends, to regroup. The walls seemed to close in around you, shadows shifting and whispering, but you focused on the way ahead.

You could hear him gaining on you, the sound of his heavy boots thudding against the floor reverberating in your ears.

You were glancing around for any sign of your friends. The air felt thick with tension, and every shadow seemed to stretch ominously. “Sam! Mindy! Tara!” you shouted, your voice echoing as you scanned the room for any familiar faces.

There was no answer, just the haunting silence of the empty house. Panic surged anew as you realized you might be all alone against him, but you couldn’t let fear take control. You had to find a weapon, something to defend yourself with.

Spotting a heavy lamp in the corner, you dashed toward it. As you were about to grab it Ghostface busted to the room. The mask reflected the dim light, a twisted visage of intent and malice.

Instead of rushing toward you, Ghostface stood still, the blade hanging loosely at his side as he stared at you with a twisted tilt of his head. The silence stretched between you, the only sound being the frantic rhythm of your own breathing. Every instinct screamed for you to run, but the terror of the moment froze you in place, your heart pounding in your chest as acceptance of your fate slowly crept in.

Tears streamed down your cheeks, blurring your vision. “Who are you?” you managed to choke out, your voice trembling as you stared into the void of the mask, trying to find any sign of humanity within.

After what felt like an eternity, he slowly reached for the mask, pulling it back to reveal his face. Your heart plummeted as you focused on the boyish charm and familiar brown locks of hair. The realization hit you like a punch to the gut. It was Ethan Landry all along. The biggest grin you’d ever seen spread across his face, a twisted mix of joy and madness.

“Ethan?” you whispered, your voice barely audible, disbelief coursing through you.

“You know, ____ You should really know when to trust your instincts,” he said, a dark smirk playing on his lips. “Like sometimes I wasn’t even trying to hide it!”

You felt like you were going to be sick. You couldn’t bare to look at him. His words sent a shiver down your spine as the truth settled over you like a suffocating blanket. “You… you were in on this?” You felt the bile rise in your throat, anger mixing with confusion. “All this time, you were playing us? With me?”

Ethan stepped closer, the playful grin still plastered across his face, but the glint in his eyes was anything but friendly. “Oh, it was so easy.” He gestured around the room, the knife gleaming in his hand. “The trust you all had in me, it made this so much more fun. You have no idea how satisfying it is to watch you scramble for answers, to see you run in circles while I orchestrated everything from the shadows.”

“You killed people, Ethan. Innocent people. Why?” you gasped, your voice trembling with a mix of horror and disbelief.

Ethan sneered at you, his expression morphing into something darker. “Why did I do all this?” He chuckled softly, the sound devoid of any real humor. “Maybe I don’t have a reason. Maybe I’m just a psychopath who wanted to slash the necks of anyone who crossed my path. Maybe I have some fucked-up childhood that twisted me into this.” Continuing his rant, the air thick with tension. He finally paused taking a large step towards me pointing his knife at me.

“Or maybe it’s because the girl I loved for two years never took the time to know anything about me but my fucking name.”

His words struck you like a physical blow, your heart sinking at the weight of his confession. Ethan liked you all these years and never told you. Confusion and betrayal flooded your mind as you furrowed your brows, struggling to process the revelation. “But you never said anything” you stated, your voice shaking.

He took a step closer, the knife gleaming menacingly in his hand. All he had to do was reach out and the knife could easy bury into your stomach. “I always had a thing for you _____. So pretty and naïve. You were so busy with your perfect little life, your perfect little friends, that you never noticed me. I was always there, lurking in the background, waiting for my chance.” The anger in his voice was palpable, each word laced with bitterness. “And when I realized how easy it was to manipulate you all, I couldn’t resist. It was a rush like no other.”

Your heart raced as you processed his twisted proposal, his words wrapping around your mind like a noose. “So what are you going to do? Kill everyone?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady despite the fear creeping into your chest.

Ethan sneered at you, his expression darkening. “Not everyone, princess,” he replied, his voice low and menacing. He traced the blade of his knife across the stitches on your cheek, the sharp metal sending a chill down your spine. “See, I’ve always loved you, and I can feel you like me too. Don’t try to deny it, ____.”

You flinched at his touch, the intimacy of the gesture feeling like a betrayal to your own senses. “You’re insane!” you gasped, trying to pull away from him, but he held you firmly in place.

“If you come with me, nobody has to die,” he continued, his tone shifting, becoming almost persuasive. “We can go somewhere far away. Just me and you.” His hands cupped your cheeks, brushing away your tears with a gentleness that felt horrifyingly out of place. “I can give you a perfect life. Just say yes.”

A surge of revulsion coursed through you, mixing with the grief and confusion swirling in your heart. “A perfect life?” you echoed, incredulity spilling from your lips. “You think this is love? You think dragging me into your madness is the answer?”

He leaned closer, his breath hot against your skin, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made you want to look away. “It doesn’t have to be this way, ____,” he whispered, a trace of desperation lacing his words. “I can protect you from everyone who’s ever hurt you. All I need is your trust.”

You felt your heart hammering against your ribcage, the gravity of his words weighing heavily on you. “Trust?” you replied, incredulous. “You’ve murdered people, Ethan! How could I ever trust you?”

A flicker of anger crossed his face, but it quickly transformed into something more sorrowful. “You don’t understand. You never have. I did this for us! To show you what true passion looks like, to free us from the shackles of normalcy.” He brushed your tears away with his thumb, and you recoiled at his touch. “Can’t you see? We’re meant to be together!”

Your mind raced, desperately searching for a way out of this nightmare. “This isn’t love! This is obsession!” you shouted, your voice trembling with emotion. “You’re deluding yourself if you think I could ever be with someone who does this!”

His expression hardened, the mask of charm slipping away, revealing the raw intensity of his twisted mind. “You’ll see. You’re just scared now, but once you’re free of those pathetic friends, you’ll understand.” He stepped back, holding the knife threateningly. “Say yes, and we can escape this together.”

You felt the weight of the knife’s threat looming over you, and a part of you wanted to cry, to scream. But another part of you—deep down—was ignited with a fierce resolve.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you nodded, forcing a shaky smile in response to his expectant gaze. Ethan’s smile widened, a spark of excitement igniting in his eyes as he took a breath, his enthusiasm palpable. He brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. “I need to hear you say it back. Say you love me.”

With as much sincerity as you could muster, you forced the words out, “I love you, Ethan.”

You watched as his eyes glistened, emotion swelling within him. “I’ll take care of you,” he whispered, his voice tender, almost vulnerable.

Without warning, he pressed his lips against yours, and you felt a wave of nausea rise in your throat. Fighting every instinct to push him away, you placed one hand gently on his chest, trying to connect despite the revulsion gnawing at your insides. The moment stretching out as you struggled to accept the twisted affection he was offering. As he deepened the kiss, your other hand snaked around your back.

When he finally pulled away, his cheeks were flushed with a mix of excitement and something darker. “Time to go,” he said, his expression a blend of eagerness and anticipation.

You nodded slowly, your heart racing. “Yes, time to go,” you repeated, hoping to buy yourself a moment longer.

Before he could react, adrenaline surged through you. In one swift motion, you grabbed the heavy lamp beside you and slammed it into the side of his head. The loud crash of glass echoed through the room, accompanied by Ethan’s startled yell, jolting your body into action.

He fell to the floor, agony etched across his face, momentarily stunned. Without hesitation, you yanked the knife from his weakened grasp, the cold steel feeling heavy in your hand. Channelling your rage and fear, you straddled him, pinning him down as you watched his face covered in deep red blood and glass shards.

Ethan’s eyes, once filled with twisted affection, now reflected shock and confusion as he realized the tables had turned. This time you were on top of him, and he was below you. As he opened his mouth to speak, you didn’t give him the chance. With a fierce resolve, you plunged the knife down into the center of his chest, feeling the resistance of flesh and bone.

His breath caught in his throat, a strangled gasp escaping his lips as he stared up at you in disbelief. You could see the flicker of life dimming in his eyes, the realization of his fate settling in. In that moment, the weight of your actions bore down on you, a mix of horror and relief flooding your senses. You had fought back, and you wouldn’t let him take you down with him. As his body went limp beneath you, you felt a surge of strength, knowing you did it. You had survived. It was over.

As you caught your breath you stared down at Ethan. A very charming young man who maybe you could have seen being with. Swallowing you brushed his curls away from his face. Why you did this, you do not know.

Before you could do anything else you heard the sound of the basement door being bashed open. Breaking from your thoughts, you jumped up and ran to the door, your heart racing as the panic-laden voices of your friends flooded your ears.

“____!” Mindy yelled, urgency threading through her words. “It is Ethan! He stabbed Chad, but he’s going to be okay!”

“Relax!” you told everyone, your exhaustion weighing heavily on you. “He’s gone. He’s in that room.”

Sam nodded, determination etched on her face as she made her way toward the room where Ethan lay. Mindy and Tara rushed to surround you, enveloping you in a tight hug.

“Are you okay?” Tara asked, her voice trembling slightly.

“Yes,” you replied, the relief washing over you like a soothing wave. “Now that everything is over.”

Suddenly, you heard Sam’s voice ringing out, filled with confusion and urgency. “____, there’s no one here!”

Time seemed to freeze as an icy chill gripped your veins. You immediately raised yourself up and sprinted to the room where you had left him. The sight that greeted you made your heart plummet. What should have been the aftermath of a struggle was now nothing more than a splatter of blood and shattered glass on the floor.

Your stomach churned, but instead of panic, a weary sigh escaped your lips as you lowered your shoulders, your mind racing with disbelief. “He won’t be back,” you told Sam, trying to project strength even as doubt crept in.

“Are you sure?” Sam asked, her brow furrowed in concern.

“Yes, not when I’m here,” you asserted, conviction igniting a flame within you. With that, you turned and walked out of the building, leaving behind the remnants of the nightmare that had just unfolded.

Outside, the cold night air filled your lungs, and you took a moment to ground yourself, closing your eyes and letting the world come back into focus. Mindy and Tara walked beside you, their hands clasped tightly, a silent support system as you processed the chaos that had just occurred.

“We need to get Chad to the hospital,” Mindy said, glancing at you with a mix of concern and determination.

“Right,” you replied, your voice steadying. “Let’s do that.”

As you made your way to the car, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins, you felt a weight lifting off your shoulders. You had fought back. You had survived. But the echoes of the night would linger in your mind for a long time.

As everyone jumped into the car, you felt an unsettling rumble echoing behind you, sending a shiver down your spine. The sound crept through the night air, emerging from the dense shadows of the bushes nearby. Heart pounding, you turned to stare into the darkness, instinctively holding your breath as dread clawed at your throat.

Mindy, her voice laced with concern, broke the tense silence. “_____, is everything okay?”

You paused, your heart racing in your chest, the rumbling growing louder, thrumming like a heartbeat in the stillness of the night. The shadows seemed to writhe, and for a moment, it felt as if they were alive, watching, waiting. The panic surged within you, threatening to spill over as uncertainty filled the air.

Drawing in a shaky breath, you forced yourself to turn away from the darkness. “Yes,” you stated, though the tremor in your voice betrayed your facade. You mustered a small smile, one that felt more like a mask than genuine reassurance and slipped into the car.

In the car, as you sped toward the hospital, you looked at your friends, their faces illuminated by the dashboard lights. You felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude wash over you, and in that moment, you realized that despite the darkness that had nearly consumed you, you made it out.

Freedom, you whispered in your mind, a desperate prayer more than a thought. But deep down, your pulse quickened, knowing the truth—he would come back. He always did. His presence lingered in every shadow, a predator waiting, watching. No matter how far you ran, how many locks you turned, he was out there.

But this time, you would be ready—and he would regret ever coming back.

[onetoomanyfandomfixations]

Jealous Ex!Katsuki x Fem!Reader

A/N: this is totally not based off of how i wish my ex acted when i had a creep hitting on me ha.

MDNI - SMUT BELOW CUT.

WARNINGS: ANGST/COMFORT, SLEAZY CREEP, HURT, UNPROTECTED SEX, RECONCILIATION SEX, DRUNK SEX

-

It’s been six months. And I’m one drink down for every month since he left me. So I really shouldn’t feel as sick as I do when a random wraps their arm around my waist.

He tugs me into his scrawny, shirtless figure and my stomach lurches.

Everything smells of stale cigarette smoke. 

This is wrong.

Gently I push the stranger off, wandering back towards the bar. A tired smile from the bartender greets me.

“Hi lovely,” I smile, jumping up on the barstool.

“What can I do for you babes?” The small person hums, mousy hair flopping across their face.

“Can you make me another one of those yummy cocktails? Y’know, the one with the fireball and the-” I start, leaning inwards.

“The one that tastes like autumn?” They finish, a knowing smile.

“Yes!” I can feel my head slosh as I nod. Maybe I’m more tipsy than I thought. 

Unwanted arms twist around my waist yet again.

“Hey pretty,” Unkempt long hair tickles my shoulder. Hot breath on my neck. 

“I’m gonna go back to dancing,” I excuse myself, untangling us. Clutching my drink, I weave in and out of the crowd. The warmth is more uncomfortable than it was before, sticky and clammy.

A pain in my shoulder, my drink wasted on myself and the floor.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry” I start, embarrassment heating my cheeks.

“Hey, watch where you’re-” A voice, so familiar it hurts. Low, and consistently gravelly.

“y/n.” Shock changes his tone. Aggression turns soft. My heart squeezes.

Six months.

Six months and I’m still so undeniably in love with Bakugou Katsuki it hurts me.

“Hi,” I mumble, eyes trained on my hands.

He clears his throat and my eyes can’t help but follow the noise. 

Rubies.

I always said his eyes were rubies.

Not the blood of his enemies, like Kaminari so often joked.

Rubies.

Warmth and pain mixes inside of me, and I find myself biting my tongue.

I love you.

It would be so easy to say.

“Aww did you spill ya drink pretty? ‘S okay, I’ll get you another one.” Cigarette overtakes my smell and I do everything not to gag.

“Um, I’m actually gonna head home.” Shaking the man off yet again, I go to turn around.

“Ooh, ready for some fun are we? Lead the way, beautiful.” Hands around my waist, and my throat closes.

“No.” I shake my head, squirming out of his arms yet again.

“Aww, but baby” His arms are tighter this time, face nuzzled into my neck.

“Oi, she told you to fuck off.” Katsuki steps forward, and I go to turn my head.

“Ha, you’re just jealous that I’m gonna get somma this tonight.” Wet warmth trails up my neck and I cringe away.

Stifling hold is suddenly tugged away.

“She’s not interested, dickhead. Now fuck off before I make you.” Katsuki’s voice is grim, fearless. All I can focus on is wiping the saliva off my neck.

“Fuckin fine. She’s not that cute anyway.” I hear a huff becoming more and more distant.  

Another arm. New, but old; drapes across my shoulders.

“Gonna walk you home to make sure no more creeps try’nd attack you.” Katsuki mumbles, gently guiding me through the crowd.

“Thanks,” I whisper.

The outside air is cold, drawing me closer to the man’s core heat. Small sparks on my shoulder act as a radiator.

The walk is quiet, and my head swims too much to understand if its comfortable or uncomfortable. 

Only when we reach my apartment, does his warm arm leave me. 

As if it’s muscle memory, he lifts up the pot plant; grabbing the spare key and letting us in. Kicking off my shoes, I wander towards the next best warmth I can get.

My bed is cushy, a welcome comfort.

Katsuki enters not too long after, water and toast in hand.

“You need to eat before you sleep,” He says, plopping down next to me.

Rubies, full of warmth.

“Why are you being so nice?” I mumble, eyes stinging.

I miss this. I miss him.

“Cause I fucked up,” He whispers.

“What did you do this time, Bakugou?” I sigh, picking up the glass.

“I hurt someone because I didn’t want them to hurt me first.”

My heart hitches.

“But then I realised that all I did was hurt both of us, for no goddamn reason.”  The water splashes against the sides of the glass as I tremble uncontrollably.

“She won’t even say my name anymore.” The grief is heavy in his voice, breaking it gently. And I can’t hold back my tears.

“You said you didn’t love me anymore,” My voice warbles past the lump in my throat.

“I knew you could do better,” He mumbles, picking at the duvet he helped me choose.

“I don’t want better!” I cry, gripping the glass.

“I want you.” Glancing over, I can’t help but stare.

Bakugo Katsuki does not cry.

Yet diamonds fall from rubies.

“Then be mine again. Please.” He whispers, voice catching. 

And all I can do is nod.

Coolness of glass leaves my hands. Warmth cradles my cheeks.

“Thank you baby,” His lips meet mine, and I’m home. 

Home tastes like cheap cola from the bar. 

Home is our teeth clashing as we smile through tears and kisses. 

Home is my fingers twisting through staticy blond.

“I missed you so much,” I whisper against his jaw.

“Missed you more.” Strong arms pull me effortlessly into his lap. His hands stay on my hips, tracing gentle circles.

“Lemme show you how much I missed you.” Katsuki asks, tugging me impossibly closer. Kisses tickle down my neck, and my entire body floods with adoration.

“Please,” I nuzzle into his hair, savouring the closeness. I jerk my neck away as he gently bites exactly where he knows I hate.

“Katsuki,” I whine, shoving his face away. A warm chuckle reverberates through his chest. The sound is contagious, making bubbles in my chest.

“You’re an ass,” I bite back my smile, gentling pushing him further.

“Yeah, but I’m your ass.” He mumbles, pulling me back in. Arms push me down, feeling him grow beneath me.

My body clenches excitedly, as familiar hands start tracing up my stomach.

“Take this stupid thing off,” His voice vibrates against my neck, as he tugs at the hem of my top.

“Hm,” I muse loudly, deciding to have some fun. “No, I don’t think so.”

“You little shit,” He growls fondly, pushing the top up as his hands wander further. A gentle squeeze to my breasts is all I need to continue my attack on his jaw.

“But I’m your little shit,” I mock inbetween kisses. I feel his jaw clench beneath my touch.

“Alright, thats it.” He huffs, wrapping an arm around my waist.

Suddenly, I’m off his lap; the bed bouncing at my sudden shift in weight. The bubbles in my chest build until they burst into a fit of giggles.

“There’s my pretty woman,” Katsuki smiles, eyes soft. Gently, he fully removes my top. And then his own.

The warmth of skin on skin is a comfort I’ve missed oh so much. 

Obviously, Katsuki missed it just as much; face disappearing into the valley between my breasts. 

Soft kisses leave pins and needles, and I reach for his hand. In an instant, our fingers are interlocked.

Like he never left.

I revel in the moment, using my free hand to trace patterns on his shoulders.

Small sparks greet my skin as his other hand massages my thigh. I feel myself dampen at the closeness - leaning into his touch.

“You sure you want this pretty woman? You’re still tipsy,” Its so odd, hearing such soft words from such a hardened, aggressive man. 

“Please, Kats” I breathe, moving my hand to his hair. A hum of agreement, and his loving assault continues.

I keep tracing patterns, unintentionally digging down as his hands get close to where I want them - no - need them to be.

A ghost of a touch, and I’m pushing myself up to meet him.

“Missed me that bad, did we?” He scoffs in amusement, fingers circling my clothed clit.

“Like you’re one to talk,” I mumble, cheeks heating. Softly grinding on me, my breath hitches.

“Sorry baby, but I’m not waiting anymore,” He whispers, pulling my panties off; his boxers following suit.

Rubies bore into me, sparkling with adoration.

And suddenly, pain and pleasure all in one.

“C’mon, you’re okay. You can take it.” Katsuki praises as he thrusts in. I blink through watery eyes, nodding.

The movement is slow at first, just until the pain falls away. 

Then, its relentless. 

The sound of skin on skin echoes through my small apartment, going at an unholy speed. My toes scrunch as I’m sent into ecstasy.

“See how much I missed you?” Hands grasp my hair, moving my head to the side to leave kiss after kiss.

“See how much I love you?” He grunts into my neck, suckling right near my jaw. Words fail, leaving me only able to whimper in response.

“Yeah that’s right,” He whispers to me, fastening his pace. More whines bubble past my lips.

“Love you so much, never gonna leave again, you hear that?” His words a near hiss, nipping my neck gently.

“Kats, kats, please,” I beg, gripping onto him for dear life. My stomach coils, and I don’t know how long I’ll last.

“Come on baby, cum for me.” He encourages, pushing deeper, faster.

I break, legs spasming as I gush.

But Kastuki doesn’t stop.

Instead, he pushes my ankles up near my ears - keeping his relentless pace. Tears spill over my cheeks at the overstimulation.

“Just a little longer, okay?” He promises, hot breath painting my thighs. I nod frantically, practically melting into the bed.

But the coil tightens again, and I can’t help but squirm.

“Come on, together this time. Where do you want me?” Katsuki asks, somehow pumping harder.

“Inside,” I croak through tears. It’s too much.

An eyebrow raises.

“You wan’t me to make you a mama, that it?” He huffs, beads of crystalline sweat coating his brow.

“Mhm,” I whine, clenching at the thought.

“Fuck, y/n.” He grunts, burying himself into me.

Warmth floods me, and my blond lover collapses ontop of me.

“Love you so much, Katsuki,” I whisper, tangling my hands through his hair. I press a gentle kiss to his temple.

“Love you more, dumbass.” He sighs, kissing wherever he can reach. 

-BONUS-

“I guess this means you’re reinvited to Tsu and ‘Chako’s wedding.” I hum, scratching his head.

“The fuck you mean ‘reinvited’?” Katsuki snarls sleepily, nuzzling into my neck.

“Honey, you were my plus one. You never got your own invite,” I gently remind him, amusement tickling my insides.

“What cunts.” He grumbles, pulling me close.

“Katsuki!”

[uravitypng]

hear me out, denki and period sex!! mention of blood (obviously)(but it's not graphic)(denki's a no condom kinda guy. even when you're on your period)

boyfriend denki who just hates seeing you in pain. he dotes on you, doing everything around the house, buying you snacks and cuddling up to you. you're laying on the sofa together as you're watching an old rom-com, you always tend to watch them when you're on your period. denki holds you tight and plays with your hair, distracting you from your cramps because the painkillers haven't kicked in yet. he's telling you how much he loves you and how cute you are and you want him to say that to you every day and denki is the type of boyfriend that does. "babe, is it true that orgasms can help with cramps? bakugou said something like that ages ago but i don't know if it's true."

you make a sound of affirmation and reply "yeah, it's true."

denki doesn't say anything for a bit. thinking the conversation is over you turn your attention back to the tv. "do you want me to help with your cramps?" he says softly yet sure of himself. turning your body to face him you see him and he's looking at you with so much love, you can't detect any trace of reluctance or disgust.

"do.. do you.. i mean like.. would you want that? i don't want to make you do something you don't want to do denki." you quietly ask him, suddenly shy at the situation you're currently in.

"i'm the one who asked baby."

"yeah.. i want that. i want you."

you tell him you want him and not long after that you get your wish. denki caresses your skin, tracing your stretch marks and starts kissing you everywhere, starting at your jaw and ending up at soft stomach, you want more and he knows it. on normal nights he'd tease you until you start crying and begging for more but tonight his baby is in pain so she gets what she wants.

"please," you grab hold of him arm trying to get him closer and trying to get him to do something.

denki pushes a few strands of your hair behind your ear and whispers "i'm right here, i've got you." you're already wet enough due to the blood so he pushes his hips gently making you whimper, he reassurances you that he's got you and he tells you he loves you before bottoming into you. he pauses as he lets you adjust to his size, walls fluttering around him. "gonna move now okay?" you nod your head and you pull his arm down trying to get him to kiss you again. he obliges and you feel his soft lips press against yours, feeling like a promise that he intends to keep, so soft and warm and full of love.

he starts moving at a pace that he knows you love, one that makes your eyes roll back and makes you leave scratches down his back as you try to clutch onto him. you feel so good around him, clenching every time he hits that special spot making you see stars. keeping the same pace, he starts touching your clit with just the right amount of pressure and care that nearly tips you over the edge. you're so close, your back starts lifting and arching up as your scratches get deeper, digging in more. "i know baby, i know." denki fucks you through your orgasm helping you ride it out. he pulls out just in time before spilling onto your thighs.

denki's idea worked as you don't have any cramps anymore. you start getting up from laying down before denki holds onto you and lightly pushes you down. you're a bit confused but realise denki probably just wants you to rest while he gets you cleaned up however you were wrong. you look at him expecting him to be looking at you but he's looking at your thighs, where your blood meets his cum. he looks mesmerised and before you know it he's holding onto your plush thighs, keeping them apart so he can watch as his cum rolls down your body. he takes his thumb and swirls his cum into your blood watching the two mix with rapt attention.

you cock you head to the side and ask him, "are you going to be there all day watching my body? or are you going to cook us food?" denki snaps out of his gaze and grins at you before kissing your thigh, there's a slight imprint of blood on his lips and you're sure he must have done that on purpose.

"shower first, then food. both our thighs are covered in blood, so is my dick and there's even a spot of the couch."

"THERE'S WHAT?" you quickly sit up and try and find the spot, hoping that the stain isn't too big and it will come out.

"made you look." denki grins at you, after seeing your hurried self start panic mode.

"i'm going to kill you denki."

"you wouldn't kill your dear old boyfriend."

"i'm going to kill you denki." you repeat as denki just looks at you grinning before pulling you both up. "hey! i'm threatening you here."

"you can threaten me in the shower."