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sundrop-writes · 8 months

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The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Summary:

While undercover inside the Separatarian Sect, you and Spencer realize something important: you can’t live without each other.

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader. Co-Workers to Lovers. Fake Dating. Hurt and Comfort. Set during Season 4, Episode 3.

Word Count: 8,200

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

Warnings: Lots of spoilers for the canon episode - so if you haven’t watched Season 4 of Criminal Minds yet, steer clear of this fic for now (especially because watching the episode provides some context for this fic/makes things make more sense); the reader uses she/her pronouns and has the ability to get pregnant (she is not pregnant during the fic and there’s no smut, but due to discussions in the fic, it’s not unreasonable that she could get pregnant); fake dating in the form of a fake marriage - the reader and Spencer pretend to be married under the Christian religion to ‘appeal’ to Cyrus; because of the fake marriage, Spencer uses the term 'my wife’ to refer to the reader; lots of mentions of religion (Christianity), religious extremism, mentions of pedophilia/child brides (in line with the canon episode); mentions of systemic sexism and gender roles enforced by cultures of organised religion and religious extremism; use of y/n and l/n (in this case meaning 'your last name’); the reader pretends to follow the Christian religion while undercover but I never stated if she believes in a less extreme version of these things or not (the reader’s true religious beliefs are never stated); protective!Spencer, possessive!Spencer; mentions of Spencer being taller than the reader (which, again, I think he would be taller than most people) - the reader’s body/body type is not described in any other way; mentions of guns and gun violence (not described in deep detail) - in line with the canon episode; the reader and Spencer fear for their lives; dangerous/live-threatening situations; the reader and Spencer are threatened with a gun; Cyrus is just generally creepy and sexist toward the reader; Spencer is pistol-whipped and the reader is threatened with sexual assault (it does not happen, Spencer protects her); mentions of pregnancy/the reader being pregnant (she is not pregnant during the course of the fic); mentions of the reader being a mother/having kids (Spencer makes up fake kids to sell their fake marriage story); the reader realizes she might actually want to be a mother because of Spencer’s fake kids story; mentions of an explosion (as in the canon); love confessions; angst with a happy ending. Hopefully that is everything.

A/N: The title for this fic comes from a Fall Out Boy song of the same name. The theme/lyrics of the song don’t really fit the fic, but I love the way that this title fits - how everyone in this fic is lying in some way but Spencer is someone with good intentions while lying. Making him the Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes. I love how it fits. I wrote this while suffering with heat exhaustion so idk if it’s good or even makes sense. I rewatched the canon episode and it doesn’t 100% align with what happened in the episode in terms of the timeline and stuff, and I am too tired to rewrite the whole fic to make it align with the episode. So uh - alternative canon? But I really love the basic concepts and I do really love how it turned out. I hope you guys like it too!

...

You thought it would be an easy day.

Maybe that was foolish on your part. So far, you hadn’t seen a single ‘easy’ day while working with the BAU. Between chasing down scumbags and then reliving every single gory detail while doing the paperwork - none of it was ‘easy’. It was worthy, accomplished work - making the world a safer place to live in. (At least that’s what you told yourself.) But it was never easy.

There was always someone who made the job easier. Someone who made you smile every single day - especially on days when you didn’t think you were even capable of feeling a tiny shred of joy. Someone who made you feel safe, who you always felt had your back no matter what. So you were glad that he was by your side today, along for the ride.

“Tell us about Cyrus.” Reid prompted.

He looked to the woman driving, your new companion for the day - Nancy Lunde, someone who worked with the state department and had set up the interviews with the children at the Separatarian Sect.

“Benjamin Cyrus. No criminal record. In fact, there’s no record of the guy at all.” Nancy explained.

“That’s odd.” You commented. “Usually someone being accused of something like this would have some past offenses. Especially because it would give him a reason to move into isolation to continue the criminal pattern of behavior.”

“Well, I couldn’t find anything on him.” Nancy shrugged.

“What about the 9-1-1 call?” You asked.

“A fifteen year old girl called in saying that a man was ‘laying with her’ and claimed it as ‘God’s will’. I believe the ‘he’ referred to is Cyrus.” Nancy explained. “The age fits with Jessica Evanson, but I’ve managed to negotiate interviews with all the children, just to be sure. It wasn’t easy.”

“They’re incredibly weary of outsiders.” You commented. “Our boss warned you not to identify us as FBI, right?”

Nancy nodded. “I got you some spare credentials, just in case.”

She took one of her hands off the wheel and reached into her pocket.

“You’re going to be using your real names. You’re going in as Child Victim Interview Experts working with Child Protective Services. No association with the FBI.” Nancy explained, handing Reid your fake credentials.

He nodded, inspecting the IDs before handing you yours where you were sitting in the backseat.

“Oh, before I forget.” You noted, reaching into the pocket of your cardigan. “The rings.”

You pulled out a small plastic bag that Hotch had given to you before you left. It was a bag containing a fake diamond ring in your size and a fake golden ‘wedding’ band for Spencer.

Reid reached over the seat to grab his ring from you, and Nancy gave the two of you an odd look.

“Rings?” She questioned.

“Fake wedding bands.” You explained.

“It was our Unit Chief’s idea.” Reid added on. “He believes that presenting us as a ‘godly’ married couple to Cyrus will make him more likely to open up to us. He’s less likely to see us as hostile outsiders if he believes that we share a similar system of beliefs.”

“It could also have a calming effect on the teenagers we have to interview or the kids there who have had more time to go through indoctrination at the Sect.” You continued to explain. “Even if their parents are hesitant to let the kids speak with us, they may be more willing to have their child speak with us or even leave them alone with us if they believe that we’re fellow Christians, rather than hostile atheists there to poison their children’s minds.”

Reid nodded at you through the rearview mirror.

“Make sure you put on the left hand.” He told you. “That’s the position for marriage.”

You nodded at this.

You placed the ring in the appropriate position, and you couldn’t help but to take a moment and stare at it. It was jarring to have a wedding ring on - especially with the thought that it represented you being married to Spencer. But you supposed, of all the people to call your husband, he would be one of the best. He was honest, intelligent, kind, and… if you were pressed, you would definitely say he was handsome.

But you couldn’t get too caught up thinking about all of that. Because it wasn’t real. It was a false projection you were wearing for the benefit of a self inflated sociopath.

Spencer liked the feeling of the ring. He didn’t take too long to stare at it after he had put it on, because he knew his mind would wander if he did. When Hotch had first proposed the idea of the two of you pretending to be married, Spencer had almost tripped over himself to oppose it - mostly because he didn’t think that he would be able to handle simply pretending to be your husband for the day. It was just too cruel.

Having something he wanted so badly dangled right in front of him and knowing that it was all just a farce - it bothered him, but he delighted in the play nonetheless.

When he caught the fake gold glinting in the light, Spencer had to remind himself that it was fake - that you would just be playing his wife for the day. He had to push back any internal glee that he felt at the idea that he got to be ‘taken’ by you while wearing that ring. It wasn’t real. It was just for the day.

“Isn’t that deceptive?” Nancy asked. “Won’t Cyrus be even more angry if he finds out that it’s not true?”

“He won’t find out.” You replied confidently. “And besides, we use deception in interrogations all the time. It’s a very basic tactic: align yourself with the suspect. Make them think you share the same beliefs, that you’re on their side.”

Reid grinned at this. He always loved it when you spoke so confidently.

…

“We’re looking for Mr. Benjamin Cyrus.” Nancy announced as the three of you got out of the car.

“Then you’ve found him.” Cyrus announced confidently.

He was pretty much what you had expected him to be - dressed informally, slouched over, faking meekness, holding a bible near his chest as though it were a shield. He had planted himself there purposefully, wanting to be the first person to interact with the outsiders as three of you came into the Ranch.

You hovered back near Spencer, letting Nancy make the first introduction.

“I’m Nancy Lunde.” She said, giving a small nod toward the man. “We spoke on the phone regarding the allegation.”

“‘Savages they call us, because our manners differ from theirs.’” Cyrus rhymed off a quote, obviously positioning himself and his group as martyrs being attacked for having ‘different ways’ that the world simply didn’t understand.

“We didn’t come here to hear you cite scripture, Mr. Cyrus.” Nancy reminded him, hoping to keep the religious zealot on track.

“Actually, it’s Benjamin Franklin.” Reid corrected her, talking about the quote.

That did surprise you, but you didn’t find it surprising that Reid knew this fact right off the top of his head. It was just one of the many amazing things about him - his perfect memory and his ability to use it.

Of course, him saying this immediately drew Cyrus’ attention toward the two of you. So Spencer stepped up to introduce you.

“Hello, I’m Spencer Reid, and this is my wife, Y/N L/N.” He said motioning toward himself and then to you as he introduced the two of you. Hearing him refer to you as his wife - you hated to say it, but it caused a jolt through your system. Almost as if you had been waiting forever to hear him say those words and hadn’t even known it yourself. “We’re Child Victim Interview Experts, here on behalf of Child Protective Services.”

Of course, you couldn’t get too caught up in deciphering how those words made you feel, because you had to focus on the task at hand. The job that you were here to do.

“How far from God’s word must we have strayed for there to be a need to invent a job called ‘Child Victim Interview Expert’.” Cyrus said, his tone even, quiet.

You knew that covertly, it was his way of saying that the two of you didn’t belong there, because he ran the Ranch with God’s word, so nobody had actually been harmed (in his opinion). He believed that he had done nothing wrong. Obviously, he thought your time and resources were better spent with ‘actual’ victims who didn’t have his power wielded over their lives.

“I can assure you, Mr. Cyrus, we try to bring God into our work.” You told him, trying to appeal to him. “The children we visit usually need prayer and God’s light the most.”

Spencer gave you a sideways glance, clearly holding back a grin at how thick you were pouring it on - how much intense, feigned passion you said these words with.

“Well, I can assure you that a lack of prayer and God’s light is certainly not an issue for the children here.” Cyrus said, giving you a clever little grin. He thought that you would simply interview the children, praise him for what a good job he had done, and then leave. “You can go and see the children whenever you like. They are up at the school, as I indicated in our phone call.”

Nancy walked toward the school, and you paused before you followed.

Before you walked off, you looked to Spencer. In a completely silent conversation that only worked so well because the two of you had been in so many tense situations before, thinking around UnSubs and planning miles around them before they could even know it, he gave you a small nod and you instantly knew what it meant. He had established a small bit of trust with Cyrus, so he would stick back and see what else he could get out of the man.

You nodded back, and then - completely surprising yourself, you leaned in and kissed Spencer on the cheek. You were just playing the part, you told yourself. It’s not that it felt entirely instinctive to say goodbye to him with some kind of affection, like the many hugs you had given him before. It’s not that you felt so entirely scrutinized with Cryus’ piercing eyes on you, and you needed the anchor of Spencer’s touch.

You were just playing the part.

Spencer tried not to get caught on being kissed on the cheek like he was some blushing virgin, and instead, focused his attention back on Cyrus instead of watching you walk away. (Even though every single one of his instincts told him that he needed to keep a more careful eye on you because you both had to leave your guns in the car.)

He took a step closer to where Cyrus was leaning on the concrete, and easily picked a topic of conversation.

“Solar panels.” Reid said, motioning to the large devices sitting behind Cyrus on the grass.

“Yes.” Cyrus nodded. “We’re completely self-sufficient here. Food, electricity, water. Benjamin Franklin said ‘God helps those who help themselves’.” He explained. “You look surprised.”

“No, uh, impressed, actually.” Reid easily lied, trying to appeal to his ego.

“Thank you.” Cyrus said. “Most men wouldn’t admit that.”

“Well, I suppose that I’m not like most men.” Reid shrugged in return.

“How long have you been married?” Cyrus asked, motioning toward Reid’s ‘wedding ring’.

Reid panicked slightly, knowing that the two of you likely should have coordinated this story during the plane ride to Colorado so that your answers to these simple questions wouldn’t be different. But he just made up an answer and hoped that nobody else would ask you the same question and find out the deception.

“Three years.” He said. “I’ve been very blessed.”

He used the language purposefully, knowing that the simple phrase could get him on Cyrus’ good side. That, and he hoped it would draw the attention away from any possible signs of his blatant lie.

“Your wife is very beautiful.” Cyrus commented.

He gave a wicked smirk as he said this. It was a simple, fairly ‘innocent’ comment, but it was immediately off-putting to Spencer. It took everything in his body not to glare daggers at Cyrus or throw out some protective comment in return. He could only imagine what was going through Cyrus’ mind as he thought about you, and he hated even imagining it.

Reid knew that it was a basic logical good, the instinct to protect you because you were his partner on this case and he was supposed to have your back. But it was also something more. Something in every fiber of his being that screamed you were his and no man should ever be thinking of you that way except for him.

“Has it been a godly union?”

He was lucky when Cyrus spoke again and distracted him from his mounting rage.

“We try to be as godly as we can be.” Spencer took the simple, diplomatic answer.

“Your wife didn’t take your last name.” Cyrus pointed out.

Nancy had used your name on your false credentials because Hotch had only come up with the fake marriage idea the day before. There hadn’t been time to inform her about it and have ‘Reid’ put on your ID as your ‘married’ name. So he had introduced you by your name to keep everything consistent with the reuse.

It did make Spencer wonder if you would keep your last name if the two of you ever did get married. It made him almost dizzy, thinking about you as ‘Mrs Reid’. Thinking about your kids having his name. Or your name, if that’s what you wanted.

But naturally, he pushed past all those thoughts and formed an excuse.

“Typically, married women aren’t very well perceived in our line of work.” He quickly excused. “She doesn’t even get to wear her ring that often. She couldn’t change her name on paperwork at our office because a working married woman… it’s heavily frowned upon.”

“Well, I’d have to agree.” Cyrus grunted. “A woman shouldn’t be out working. A woman should be at home raising a family.”

“I - I suppose you’re right.” Reid agreed through gritted teeth.

He walked away toward the school before he got too angry again.

…

A few hours later, everything had gone to hell.

Some authority - the police, the military, you didn’t even know - had charged into the Ranch shooting. In response, Cyrus and his followers had come into the school toting large semi-automatics asking you and Spencer if you knew about a raid.

You didn’t. You wish you had known about a raid. You would have warned Hotch and gotten them to call it off. You certainly would not have been there while it was happening.

When they had pointed those guns in your face and forced you into the tunnels - it wasn’t very difficult to pretend to be Spencer’s wife then. Cowering in the bunker, confused and scared, you flung your arms around his waist almost instinctively, and he buried his nose in the top of your hair as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders like a shield, promising you that everything was going to be okay.

Whispered to you like that, coming from him - it was almost easier to believe. Even with the chaos going on around you and the fear pumping through you in response.

Nancy had run off trying to get them to surrender and did not come back. You had a feeling that you knew what that meant.

And now, with the kids from the school ‘evacuated’ into the church, you were being held in the cellar at gunpoint. They had forcefully separated you and Spencer, making you sit in chairs at opposite sides of the room.

Spencer was fidgeting. His eyes kept flickering from the door, to you, to the man standing beside you holding the very large gun.

You knew that you had ugly tear tracks down your face, and oddly enough - you wanted nothing more than to be back in his arms. As you were forced to sit there, just a few feet across the room away from him - you ached for it.

There was a very large possibility that you were going to die today. And you selfishly needed the comfort of being in the arms of someone familiar - someone safe. Someone you knew would never hurt you. Someone who had made you laugh with dumb science jokes and puns for the last five years that you had worked together with him.

When Cyrus charged back into the room with two men flanking his sides, you and Spencer stiffened up once again.

“God will forgive me for what I’m about to do.” Cyrus announced to the room, presenting a handgun from his belt.

Your insides quaked, and Spencer’s eyes grew wide.

You couldn’t contain the fearful whimper that erupted from the back of your throat when he raised that gun and placed it near the middle of Spencer’s forehead. You clasped a hand tightly over your mouth to keep yourself from crying out in protest, knowing that would only make things worse.

“Which one of you is the FBI Agent?” Cyrus asked firmly.

Which ‘one’?

So he knew that you were undercover, that you had lied about your job titles - but he thought that only one of you had done so. Where the hell was he getting his information?

“I - I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Spencer told him quietly, looking him in the eye the entire time.

You hoped that his stutter could be passed off as nervousness from the gun being pointed in his face, and wouldn’t be pointed to as deception.

“Which one of you is it?” Cyrus pressed.

“We are not FBI Agents.” Spencer said, more confidently this time. “We are Child Victim Interview Experts. We were only sent here to ensure the wellbeing of the children. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Well, that last part wasn’t a lie.

“You’re lying.” Cyrus told him, entirely confident in this. “God expells those who lie, devils in sheep’s clothing.”

There was a tense moment, and then Cyrus cocked the gun.

Spencer didn’t flinch. You resisted the urge to scream.

“Proverbs 12:22 says: ‘The Lord detests lying lips, but he delights in those who tell the truth.’” Cyrus said, actually citing scripture this time.

He was giving Spencer one last chance to tell the truth. As if using the bible verse to say that his punishment would be lesser if he simply told the truth now.

Spencer didn’t take the bait.

“I’m not lying.” Spencer said firmly. “What? You think I wouldn’t know if - if my wife was an FBI Agent? This is the woman I wake up next to every single morning, the woman I go to sleep next to every single night, we work together every single day, we-”

Cyrus interrupted Spencer’s ranting with a sharp hit to the face, pistol whipping him across the cheek.

This caused Spencer to go flying off the chair, and you couldn’t help when you let out a wounded cry. It took everything in you not to jump out of your own chair and rush to Spencer where he had collapsed onto the ground, clutching his cheek.

“Someone is going to tell me the truth.” Cyrus said gruffly.

“It must have been Nancy!” You said, the idea finally popping into your head.

You seemed to be more clever with the pressure of Spencer’s life being threatened. Cyrus stared you down, turning his attention fully toward you now. You caught Spencer’s eye for a moment and he gave you a small nod - as if to say ‘yes, keep going with that’.

“The woman we came in with! Nancy!” You reasoned, continuing to point the finger at the woman you had to assume was dead. “We - we just met her today. Our boss introduced us to her, but we had never met before that. If she was FBI, we had no clue. We swear.”

Cyrus turned to you then, and tightly pressed the barrel of his gun into your forehead. You could feel the imprint of it so tight in your skin that it hurt, and you could only lean away so far before threatening to knock the chair backwards.

“It’s very convenient to pin this crime on someone who isn’t here.” He grunted at you.

“It’s the truth.” You sniffled out quietly.

“Hmm.” Cyrus hummed thoughtfully, and then, much to your surprise, he removed the gun barrel from your forehead.

You barely had a moment to breathe in relief before he began skimming the gun down your neck, touching the metal whisper-gentle across your bare skin - clearly taunting you. It was something that made your whole body stiff with alarm, and caused Spencer’s eyes to go wide once again.

“Perhaps I should strip you naked to ensure that you’re not wearing a wire.” Cyrus said, teasing the gun along the buttons at the front of your cardigan.

You held back a sob at the thought of it - at the idea that he could make you do almost anything for the fear of you being shot. Truthfully, you were more afraid of what he might do to Spencer if you didn’t comply, but it was all the same in your mind now. His life was just as valuable as yours, and you would do whatever it took to protect him.

Before Cyrus could take these threats any further, a heroic voice intervened.

“That’s enough!” Spencer yelled.

He gathered himself off the floor and oddly enough, none of the men moved to stop him as he came to stand beside Cyrus. Perhaps they didn’t see him as a threat. Perhaps it was because Cyrus didn’t bark any orders at them to stop him. He was entirely unflinching, keeping his focus on you and keeping his gun held between your breasts as Spencer crowded into his personal space, trying to press himself between you and the awful man.

“We’ve told you everything that we know.” Spencer told him lowly, his voice heaving with well controlled anger. It was something that you had rarely ever heard from him.

Cyrus kept his eyes locked on you, so Spencer continued.

“We don’t know anything about the FBI - we have a simple job advocating for children who have been abused. That is it. We came here to investigate a most likely false claim against someone in your community and we truly didn’t mean to get caught up in all of this.” He said firmly, clearly trying to appeal to Cyrus. “So I suggest you get that gun away from my wife before you and I truly have a problem.”

Spencer’s voice was dark, so thick with rage. More pent up rage than you had ever heard from him when he was talking to any suspect, people who had done the worst of the worst. Something about Cyrus threatening you had truly boiled his insides.

The way he said the words ‘my wife’ - growling it out like he was a feral animal and this threat to you had activated every single one of his protective instincts. Hearing it made something inside of you yearn for him on such a deep level that you didn’t know was possible. You wanted to feel that kind of protection cast over you every single day. It made you feel invincible, having Spencer watch over you like that.

Cyrus lowered the gun then, and Spencer grabbed your arm as you dissolved into hysterical tears. Instinctively, he lifted you up into his arms. You thought that you heard Cyrus mumble out ‘my apologies’ as he left the room - but he was barely on your radar. Your entire world became narrowed down to nothing but Spencer, your safety net as he built a wall of protection around you.

He used his height to block you from seeing anything but him, letting you push your face into his chest as you cried. He wrapped you in his arms once again, letting you feel truly safe for a few moments as you sobbed into the fabric of his sweater. Your arms clutched desperately at his waist, needing to keep a hold on him - needing to ensure that he didn’t leave you.

“Hey, shh. Shh. It’s okay.” He said, leaving gentle kisses on the top of your forehead and your hair, rubbing across your back with one hand, comforting you in the only way he could in those moments. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Of course, he wanted to break down too. But he had to be strong for you.

“Spencer,” You called his name in an utterly wounded voice, pulling away from his chest to look up at him.

When you saw his injury up close - a sharp, purple-red bruise that was blooming across his cheek, it looked so utterly painful. Your insides ached at the thought that he had taken a blow for you. You hated to imagine what more they could have done to him if they had not believed your lies.

You instinctively reached a hand up to touch it and he caught your fingers halfway, instead, gently grasping your hand and laying it on his chest. The intimacy felt so oddly rehearsed - so worn in, so ‘normal’. It felt like you had been married to Spencer for years. Like it wasn’t a play at all.

Your two souls had been calling out to each other for years, just waiting for the dam to break. But you couldn’t quite put it into words - not like that.

“It’s okay.” He said quietly, knowing you were horrified by the injury.

He was so gentle, so comforting, so calm. Everything the men pointing guns at you were not. Unlike Cyrus - Spencer Reid was a true blessing from God.

You couldn’t hold yourself back then.

You surged up and kissed him, fully embracing his mouth with yours in a kiss. Though it was so sudden, it was something he easily returned. The kiss so full of urgency, so needy, so passionate. Like he was trying to tell you that it was okay, that he would protect you no matter what.

He would protect you because you belonged to him.

In those moments, the two of you were basically alone. One of Cryus’ men was guarding the door, watching on boredly. But Cyrus was off in the church, funneling people in to prepare for his ‘loyalty’ test. It didn’t matter if he saw you kissing or not - it wouldn’t have sold the reuse of you being married any better.

This was just for the two of you. This was comfort.

When you pulled back from the kiss, Spencer looked stunned, almost as if he couldn’t believe what had happened. You didn’t give him time to question it.

“Thank you.” You said quietly.

It was twofold:

Thank you for protecting me. Thank you for giving me comfort.

Spencer didn’t have too much time to marinate in the meaning of the kiss before Cyrus’ men came back and fetched the two of you, wanting you to observe the loyalty test.

…

After the mock poisoning (which Spencer figured out rather quickly, making you admire his cleverness once again), Cyrus kept you and Spencer in the church with a few of his closest, most loyal followers while all of the low level followers dispersed back to their homes.

You and Spencer were lingering in the back quietly while Cyrus was on the other end of the room, talking to his men about how to proceed. The plans for their ‘final stand’.

“We need to get some kind of signal to the others.” Spencer whispered quietly. “Maybe they’ll take pity on you and let you go if-” He swallowed sharply, cutting himself off abruptly. Oddly enough, he didn’t want to voice whatever was on his mind.

“If what?” You probed. You wondered what the hell you could possibly be thinking.

“If we tell them that you’re pregnant.” He said, whispering so lowly that you almost didn’t catch the words.

You rolled your eyes sharply at this.

You had gotten married and had kids all in one day. What a miracle.

(In those moments, clouded by fear, you couldn’t see it for what it truly was - Spencer blatantly revealing his unconscious desires to have a baby with you.)

“We could convince them to release you. As a show of good faith. A pregnancy would be good leverage in that. You know how religious people are about fetuses-” Spencer reasoned.

“Yeah, and what if they give me a test?” You probed, punching a large hole in his logic. “We don’t know what kind of infirmary they have here. They obviously believe in modern technology. What if they want to give me an ultrasound to check on the fetus after the stress of the day? To prove that they did no harm to the precious unborn child,”

Spencer was easily caught on this point. If they examined you and found that you weren’t pregnant, all the lies would fall apart.

“Well… what if we tell them that you have a baby at home that you need to get back to?” Spencer reasoned, jumping to the next logical conclusion in his mind. “It’ll likely garner the same level of pity.”

“Your imaginary sperm is powerful, isn’t it?” You whispered back sharply. Spencer rolled his eyes this time. But he didn’t redact the plan as unreasonable, so you continued on. “Okay, what do I even do when I get out there? I’m not gonna be of any use to the tactical team. We don’t know what Cyrus’ final play is yet.”

Truthfully, you couldn’t bear to be separated from Spencer. Knowing that he was inside, potentially being beaten up more, potentially being shot and bleeding out from a wound without you knowing - it would kill you with stress. You need to be by his side. You needed to know that he was okay.

“Has God blessed your union with any children?” Cyrus appeared behind you suddenly.

You wondered if he had heard you say the word ‘pregnancy’ or if this was just a random topic that had come up in his mind.

His sudden appearance behind you caused you to whip around and crowd into the comfort of Spencer’s arms again because you were frightened. Naturally, Spencer wrapped his sheltering touch around your shoulders. Your back was gently pressed into Spencer’s front, his arm shielding you protectively as it was wrapped around your chest, holding you with his hand on one of your shoulders, unconsciously stroking his thumb across the fabric of your cardigan. The position had you both facing Cyrus, watching the fan in an offensive way.

And of course, Spencer didn’t miss a beat.

“Yes.” Spencer answered easily. “We have two kids at home. A boy and a girl. Iris and Hugo. Iris is almost three years old and Hugo is eleven months. His first birthday is coming up in June.”

You knew that Spencer could be very good at talking off a suspect’s ear under pressure, but when you heard him rattle off these ‘facts’ so easily, it hit you.

This wasn’t simply statistics or physiological knowledge - this was a very elaborate backstory for your supposedly real marriage. Perhaps he had thought about all of it on the car ride up (which was odd not to share it with you, in case Cyrus asked you a similar question and your answer didn’t match up with Spencer’s).

But if you weren’t mistaken, this wasn’t simply a backstory for your fake marriage during the undercover mission. This was a fantasy of his. Those were names he had lovingly chosen for your imaginary children - kids he had dreamed up in his head and wanted to be real.

Your heart ached at the thought of it. You found yourself missing a set of children that weren’t even real. (And distantly, wanting to jump his bones to make it a reality.)

“Tell me, Mr. Reid, would you find it so shameful for your daughter to marry young?” Cyrus asked.

You found it odd to hear Cyrus call Spencer ‘Mr. Reid’, but you realized that he hadn’t introduced himself as ‘Doctor’ in this setting. You held your tongue when you felt the need to correct him as you had so many other people, wanting Spencer to receive his proper title.

Your mind almost couldn’t focus on the question that Cyrus had asked. Of course, he was trying to get Spencer to stroke his ego once again. Basically admitting that the whole reason the two of you had come here was true - he was being vastly inappropriate with a young member of the church, and getting away with it. And he saw nothing wrong with it.

And he was trying to get an outsider to admit that he saw nothing wrong with it too.

When there was a moment of silence - Reid obviously torn on how to answer the question, Cyrus continued.

“Is there really something so wrong with a blooming young woman marrying a man who will protect her under God’s laws?” He probed, his voice so entirely confident. Clearly confident that he was right.

“Well, I’m not sure if I would let my daughter get married so young.” Reid said, finally speaking up. “I just know that I would want her to marry a man that would protect her, and be the best possible fit for her. Someone who would cherish her and be good to her no matter what.”

His answer made you swoon. You reached up and gently gripped his forearm in response, giving a light squeeze to show your approval. He leaned in and kissed the back of your head - dizzyingly, you were imagining him walking your imaginary daughter down the aisle before you had even gotten married yourself.

Maybe it was being so close to death, being threatened in such dangerous territory that was causing your life to accelerate at light speed in your mind. If you were going to lose everything, you might as well enjoy the escapism of a fake life with a beautiful man in your mind instead of being stuck on the heart pounding terror of being held hostage, right?

Surprisingly, his words drew a smile from Cyrus.

“You’re a protective father, aren’t you?” Cyrus asked.

“Of course.” Reid confirmed.

“I can always admire that in a man.” Cyrus nodded. “A man should always pride himself on protecting his family.”

There was another moment of pause, and you were hoping that the topic had been dropped completely.

“Do you have a picture of your children with you?” Cyrus asked.

You wondered if - in a different version of reality, where you and Spencer really were married, where Hugo and Iris really did exist - if you had a picture of them in your pocket, would Cyrus only be asking this so he could use the picture to taunt the two of you? What other purpose would he have for knowing what your children looked like?

“Unfortunately, no.” You answered. “I keep my family pictures on my desk. In my office. We - we’ve just been praying to get back to them safely.”

Cyrus seemed perturbed at you mentioning that you had an office. Something dark flickered over his features for a moment and then disappeared.

“Well… if it is right, God will grant you that safe passage.” Cyrus said.

Just when you truly thought the conversation was done, he said something to you that entirely grinded under your skin.

“I find it entirely odd that a mother of two young children spends her days working a job where she takes care of other people’s children, rather than staying at home with her own youngins where she belongs.”

He said, using that same entirely confident, righteous tone that he always did. Even though you were not really a working mother, you had a hard time not boiling with anger at the sexism ripe in his statement.

“How much must you be missing of your sweet angels lives to instead partake in the horrors of devils you shouldn’t have to witness.”

Of course.

You had a hard time not rolling your eyes at this or saying something harsh that would set him off. Instead, you reached up to Spencer’s arm around your shoulder, squeezing his fingers, trying to keep your patience.

“I’ll have you know that Y/N is an amazing mother.” Spencer piped up, knowing that Cyrus respected him enough as a man that he wouldn’t beat him simply for speaking up. “Her nurturing and caring makes her infinitely better at her job.”

Again, you knew that there was so much personal truth in Spencer’s words. He thought that you would make an amazing mother to his children - at least theoretically. He was entirely firm in that conviction. And he thought that your natural caring made you amazing at the job you did as a Profiler. He knew this from the quality of work he witnessed you doing every single day.

You didn’t know it - but it was just one of the many things that had caused him to fall in love with you.

Oddly enough, Cyrus’ words prodded at something deep inside of you. It made you imagine a life for yourself where you weren’t spending your days witnessing horrors from unspeakable devils - but instead, at home, looking out for Spencer’s imaginary children.

You would have said it was the fear of the day, clouding your mind. But maybe it was the clarity of being so close to death that made you realize what - and who - you truly wanted out of life.

…

Hours later, after some of the hostages had been released (the ‘non-believers’ who had failed the loyalty test), Cyrus had requested that some food be sent up. Spencer gave you a sharp look when he saw the message written on one of the takeout lids.

The team would be storming in to end the hold-out at 3am. You had to somehow ensure the safety of the hostages by then.

Obviously, the fake pregnancy idea was still warping through Spencer’s mind, but you had come up with some much better.

“Cyrus,” You called out his name gently, getting his attention. “You said that you have a nursery here?”

It had come up, during his long winded bragging about how perfect the Ranch was. Something about how mothers didn’t have to raise their children alone. The children were raised as more of a ‘group effort’ and women took ‘shifts’ in the nursery, allowing the women to rest or get chores done in the interim.

“Yes, we do.” He nodded.

Spencer stared at you with his jaw set, wondering what you were doing but not daring to speak.

“I - I’ve been missing my children dearly. I was wondering if I could go to your nursery and see if they need any help? It would do my soul good to be around young ones right now. After all the commotion of these days.” You spoke meekly, trying to play the part of the shaken up, dainty woman well.

Which was too difficult, seeing as you were playing up the fear you had already experienced.

He grinned. It was a rather menacing smile, and you tried your hardest not to show any further fear, or disgust.

“That sounds like a splendid idea.” He nodded. “Christopher, why don’t you escort her down to the nursery and then come back? We need you here for our final preparations.”

You were finally falling to those gender roles that he had been pushing on you since you had arrived. He didn’t suspect a thing. He simply thought that you were a God fearing woman falling to your natural womanly instincts, needing to care for children lest your womb shrivel up and you die.

Spencer rose from his seat and Cyrus stopped him.

“Just your wife.” He said, putting a hand in front of Spencer’s chest to stop him. “There are still some things you and I need to discuss. Man to man.”

You went over to Spencer and didn’t hesitate to plant a kiss firmly on his mouth, which he returned with vigor. This one lasted only a moment - it was something precious for the two of you. You didn’t need to put on some pointed show for the men in the room.

“It’s okay.” You told Spencer quietly, brushing your fingers gently over his uninjured cheek.

You could tell that he was dying to ask you what your plan was. But he kept the words trapped in his throat, unable to speak in front of the many temperamental villains lurking about.

“Come on.” Christopher grunted.

Spencer gave you a longing look as you left. He didn’t want to think it, but as he watched your figure retreat out the door, he feared that it would be the last time he ever saw you.

…

Your plan worked flawlessly.

Getting to the nursery meant that you had unsupervised access to the women and children, especially away from Cyrus’ prying ears. Because you were a ‘delicate’ woman, nobody suspected you of having ulterior motives. You easily found a crack in Kathy, Jessica’s mother. You spotted her as the one who had made the original 9-1-1 call, wanting to get her daughter away from Cyrus. You convinced her to help you get everyone out, and you felt intense relief when you were met with a familiar face in the cellar as everyone escaped through the tunnels.

“Where’s Reid?” Morgan easily asked you, glancing behind your shoulder as if waiting for him to appear.

“He’s still up at the church.” You told him. “I had to separate off to help get the women and children out-”

“Go on, we have to get you out!” Morgan urged, trying to gently usher you along.

“We have to go get Reid!” You argued, trying to turn around.

“Go, go on, I’ll go get Reid!” He told you.

You were about to argue back, but you were cut off by a scuffle behind you.

Jessica was yelling about Cyrus - how her mother had betrayed her, tricked her.

Morgan pushed Kathy toward you and ran off screaming for Jessica. You took Kathy’s arm, gently convincing her that everything was going to be okay as you guided her the rest of the way out. You had to focus on this, convincing yourself that everything was going to be okay. You had to tell yourself that Derek was going to get Spencer out - that they were both going to be okay.

When you got outside, you were hyper focused on marching away, taking a path away from the church as directed by the officers in charge. You froze in your tracks when you heard it - an earth shattering boom. The ground beneath your feet shook. You felt a puff of hot air swell to touch your back.

You let go of Kathy’s arm and whipped around, and you couldn’t even pay attention to where she went. You almost thought you heard her weeping, but your mind couldn’t process it as your eyes were glossed in bright orange flame.

It was the church.

“Spencer?” You gasped quietly. “Spencer!”

You couldn’t help it, but you began to run toward it. Your feet carried you faster than you could think, and before you got more than a few feet across the ground, you felt a sharp grip on your upper arm.

“L/N!”

Hotch’s voice, sounding far too distant for the position he held right behind you, viciously gripping onto you as you fought against him, trying to get toward the fire - trying to get to Spencer.

“Hey! Hey! Stop it!” Hotch tried to order you around, tried to get you to stand down.

He got a hand around your waist, and you continued to kick like a wild horse, fighting against his grip as hot tears poured down your face.

“He’s in there!” You sobbed. “Spencer is still in there.”

“Calm. Down.” Hotch ordered sharply.

You collapsed back into him sobbing, all of the fight leaving your muscles at once. You couldn’t fake the reality in front of you.

“You running in there and getting hurt isn’t going to change anything.” Hotch told you quietly, a somehow distant murmur into your ear.

Through the blur of your tears and the sharp orange glow, you saw the shape of two bodies. You heard coughing as someone emerged from the blast, hobbling down the stairs at the front of the church. You forced your eyes open wider, trying to see who it was, and then:

“Y/N!” Spencer called out your name gruffly through the smoke he had inhaled, and you easily shucked off Hotch’s grip to race up the stairs to get to him.

He was leaning on Morgan for support and you were worried that he was hurt. But the moment you were close enough, he tore himself away from Morgan and the two of you met in the middle. In a pattern that was easily developing, you fell into the safety of his arms, holding him tight enough to bruise him - never wanting to let go.

“You’re so stupid, you’re so stupid! Why would you do that to me?”

You sobbed out, gripping both sides of his face, staring into his eyes, needing the recognition that he was right there, right in front of you.

He stared back with glassiness - intense fear, adrenaline, and something small that told you he was thankful for you, and needed you now more than ever.

Of course, your words were simple anger at the situation, not at Spencer himself. The terror of thinking that he was dead still pumping through your veins, causing you to shake.

“I know.” He said quietly. “I love you.”

His voice wrapped around the words so tenderly - it was the most sincere declaration you had ever heard from him. As if to say ‘I know how much that scared you. I know what this ordeal has done to us and I only meant it more because of how scared I am’.

“I love you too.” The words flew from your lips so naturally it hurt. You took a moment to recover, entirely shocked by your own lips. And then, you only found the need to say it growing more inside of you. “Spencer, I love you.”

You pulled him toward you with the grip you had on his face, and he easily met you in one of the most earth shattering kisses you had ever experienced.

It was no longer a show, it was no longer about displaying the fake marriage for someone else’s benefit - if it had ever been about that in the first place. It was about the two of you. It was about feeling that comfort, that safety. It was about the fact that your two souls were drawn together since the day you had met. The fact that you had always felt safe with each other. You had always been the other person’s shelter from the storm.

And you poured every ounce of those feelings into that kiss.

You combed your fingers through Spencer’s hair, taking a harsh grip on the back of it, holding him there so he couldn’t pull away from your lips. He wrapped his arms around your waist, fisting the back of your sweater. Both of you entirely refused to come up for oxygen, not even caring who saw the epically passionate, public display of your love for each other.

Unbeknownst to you, Morgan and Hotch exchanged a look with raised brows as it happened. You and Spencer didn’t care. You were barely perceiving the world around you as the two of you kissed.

“You know if you’re not careful, people are actually gonna think you two are married.” Morgan said, being his usual sarcastic self.

Rather than pulling away from Spencer’s lips to sass him back - you simply flipped Derek off over Spencer’s shoulder.

On the ride home, JJ handed Derek five dollars. He had the over/under that the two of you would get together before the end of the year. JJ said that it wouldn’t happen for another five years, at least. Derek handed the fiver to Emily when she reminded him that the ‘fake marriage’ bit had actually been her idea.

When Emily and JJ relayed the story to Penelope, she squealed so loudly into the phone that JJ dropped it.

Hotch pulled you aside later and warned you that the fake rings were just cheap costume jewelry that Garcia had gotten and they would tarnish soon if you kept wearing them. He also recommended that you and Spencer put in the paperwork with HR if you were ‘serious’ about the relationship. You knew that it was him wishing the two of you his best.

A few days later when you came into work and found the HR request for an update of relationship status sitting on your desk, already signed by Spencer, you couldn’t help but to smile.

...

A/N: This is a oneshot, so there will not be a continuation or a sequel to it. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that I have written, rather than asking me to write 'more'. If you want to see more things that I have written about Spencer, feel free to check out my Criminal Minds Masterlist.

#sundrop writes #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic

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healmydesires · 1 year

Text

nasty (j.m)

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

summary: On a hot summer morning, you wake up with Joel’s mouth between your thighs.

genre: smut with a bit of fluff. kinda pure filth… sorry (18+ mdni)

word count: 4,2k

tags/warnings: established relationship, age gap (reader is in her late 20’s, joel is in his early 50’s although it isn’t really mentioned), soft!joel, soft!dom joel, sub!reader, dom/sub dynamic, somnophilia (consented, but it isn’t mentioned), lots of pet names, reader is described as shorter than joel, unprotected sex, piv sex, vaginal fingering, oral (f!receiving), joel has high key an oral fixation, pleasure!dom joel, doggy, hairpulling, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, size kink, daddy kink, praise kink, creampie, heavy on the breeding kink, joel has a big dick.

a/n: the title is inspired by ariana grande’s song nasty. also in my brain this is in the same universe as “forever in your eyes”. this is truly… a huge fantasy of mine so, this is another super self indulgent piece. I hope you enjoy! <3

pls joel miller… one chance 🥺 [begs]

ao3

The sun is bright and warm on a summer morning, light slipping through the partially open blinds, warming up the bedroom. Your body slowly wakes up from its slumber, a moan falling from your lips as you register the feel of a wet tongue lapping at your slit.

Your cheeks heat up as you realise the position you’re in. You’re on your tummy, your hips are slightly tilted upwards as Joel’s tongue licks your pussy from behind like a man starved. You whimper loudly as your pussy clenches around nothing as you feel him circle the tip of his tongue around your tight wet hole. You still feel a bit sore from last night’s activities. As Joel was making you cum on his tongue for hours before he even made love to you.

“Ah, Joel!” You mewl pathetically.

“Good morning baby girl.” He groans against your heat.

You grip the bed sheets between your fingers as you slowly rut your hips against his mouth. Your core is beyond soaked, dripping underneath you onto his mouth and sheets. You were truly desperate and full of want, you needed some more relief.

“You’re dripping for me kitten,” Joel grunts as he slowly moves his fingers to your wetness, tracing your slit slowly with admiration as you try to buck your hips against his face and fingers, begging for more. “So needy for me.”

Your eyes slide shut and you whine, as he leans down to wrap his lips around your button at the same time he pushes two of his thick fingers inside your pussy.

A broken moan spills from your lips as he moves his fingers and tongue simultaneously.

This is heaven. You could literally die happily right now.

His tongue, moving slowly against your clit, as his fingers continue to fuck inside you. The wet squelching sounds makes Joel moan into your clit, causing vibrations that make your body tremble and shake. He curls his fingers against your most sensitive spot inside you, making you grind your hips against him once again.

Your walls hug every surface and ridge of his thick fingers, the sensation making your toes curl. Joel’s mouth lavishes your pussy with his tongue while he moans every now and then against you. Your hips continue to move against his face, picking up your pace gradually. Your head reels with pleasure once his tongue presses down on your needy aching clit.

“F-fuck, J-Joel, I’m so so so close. Pleeeaaaase.” You whimper begging for more.

Joel sucks at your clit while he curls his fingers into you. He eventually sucks harder on your clit, still occasionally swirling his tongue around your little button while moving his fingers inside you faster.

You’re a mess of his name, you chant Joel’s name over and over again. Eyes are squeezing shut to the point of tears, overwhelmed as he continues to pleasure you in one of the best ways he can.

You let out a moan more akin to a scream as he scissors his fingers inside your pussy at the same time he sucks your clit into his mouth. With the second hard suck on your throbbing clit, you cum with a loud moan. You feel your vision turning white as your whole body writhes beneath him.

He laps at your release happily, licking your pussy lips slowly until you’re whining from the overstimulation.

“I’ll never get tired of how sweet you taste baby,” he groans against you. “I could eat this little pussy for days.” You feel him press soft kisses to your trembling thighs, his beard tickling your skin.

“Please Joel… I need you.” You whine desperately.

“What do you need sweetheart?” He says as he presses another kiss to your skin.

“Fuck me, please. I need you to fuck me.” You wiggle your hips impatiently.

“Anythin’ for you princess.” He chuckles as he grips your hips to flip you over but you quickly swat his hands away with a whine. “Sweetheart?”

“I wanna try something else this morning…”

Every damn day, you’ve been begging for him to fuck you from behind. And every time he would find excuses not to do so. He keeps telling you that he doesn’t want to hurt you. You know how big his cock is, you’re more than aware of that. But you simply don’t care, you want him to fuck you in the most filthy way possible. To stretch your tiny hole, filling you up so deliciously. You’ve been dreaming of him fucking you from behind for so long, you need it so much.

“Baby, we talked about this. You need to be patient.” Joel whispers as he caresses your hips in a soothing manner.

“Joel… I’ve been patient.”

“Sweetheart—”

“I need you. Just, pleaseeee. Please, I need it so bad. I need to be filled with your thick cock. Need you to fuck me from behind so bad. I just crave it so much. I want you to breed this little hole you love so much… Please your kitten needs it so ba—” your begging gets cut off by a high pitched whimper leaving your lips as Joel’s mouth dives back between your thighs.

Licking a long stripe along your slit, coaxing a loud, broken moan out of you. Joel’s hands grip your hips, keeping you in place as he laps at you furiously. You writhe against his lips, whining and pleading for more.

He encircles your clit and sucks, pulling whimpering pleas from your mouth. It’s heavenly addicting, the way Joel’s tongue slips between your folds and dips into you, working you closer and closer to your release within each passing second.

His hands move to your ass, kneading the two cheeks as he lets you grind your hips back against his face. Sweet little noises of ecstasy leave your lips as he continues to lick and suck at your pussy.

You shudder as his lips wrap around your throbbing clit again, sucking lightly. You cry out as you feel yourself get closer to your second high of the morning. You squeeze your eyes shut as you pick up your pace, unable to handle the unbearable pleasure you’re experiencing as the coil in your stomach is about to snap.

You mewl loudly as Joel plunges his tongue inside your pussy. Massaging your inner walls, driving you insane. He sucks and licks with fervour.

“Joel, please, I’m close, fuck fuck fuck,” You stutter out a loud cry.

He increases his pace, tongue thrusting inside your pulsing hole rapidly. Your body’s temperature is rising as you move your hips, fucking his tongue.

“P-please.” You moan, your voice sounding so broken.

“Come for me kitten.” He groans against your pussy before plunging back his tongue inside you, bringing his thumb to your clit applying pressure. You come with a loud whine, your vision turning white and your ears ringing as your whole body racks with such intense pleasure, you almost thought it might make you pass out.

Gasping out his name, you grasp the sheets in your hands at the intense pleasure. Your pussy keeps clenching around his tongue as he continues to pleasure you. Your hips are stuttering until the final waves of aftershock have passed. Gently, he laps at your release until the overstimulation is getting too much.

His hands caress your ass fondly as he pulls his mouth away from your throbbing heat.

“You did so well angel, you’re always so good to me. Such a good girl. I can never get enough of how good you taste.” He murmurs.

You whimper at both the oversensitivity and his words. As you’re trembling and coming down from your high he moves to press wet kisses all the way up towards your neck. Your whimpers, whines and moans don’t stop as he spoils your body with his touch and his affection.

“I love you so much sweet girl.” Joel whispers as he nuzzles his head between your neck and your shoulder.

You feel yourself melting underneath him at his words, touch and kisses, “I love you too.” Joel presses open mouthed kisses against your neck, shoulders and jaw. Leaving you a whimpering mess. You’re wiggling your hips against him, situating his hard length between your ass cheeks. Joel’s hands come to grab your hips with a loud groan.

As you continue to squirm under him, his cock slides against your pussy. The action makes both of you moan and your body trembles with anticipation, hoping he would finally enter you from behind. You feel your inner walls clenching around nothing as you move your hips against his, grinding your wetness against his massive cock, the tip nudging your clit or entrance every now and then.

It turns slick as you keep grinding yourself against him, and he has no trouble gliding his hips against you and rutting his cock against your entrance. He groans as he moves his body against yours, leaving you breathless. You feel your pussy pulse and continue to squeeze around nothing, practically begging for his cock.

His body is covering your whole body with his own. Joel nuzzles your neck as he continues to litter your skin with his kisses. You writhe against him, wishing he was just pushing his cock in you already and filling you up in the best way.

Joel reaches down and grasps himself to line up between your lips and slide. He is rubbing the tip firmly over your swollen clit and your mind is all over the place.

“F-fuck, Joel please. I can’t do this anymore, I just need you so bad. My pussy needs you. It needs to be filled with your cock and cum. Please d-daddy. Fill this little hole up, breed this pussy. Daddy please—”

At your words Joel growls, grasps your hips and tilts them more and pushes your legs further apart. He moves to circle his tip around your entrance, pulling more desperate whines from your lips. You’re squirming, wiggling your hips, trying to push back against him but he has such a strong hold on you, making it hard for you to move too much.

“Be a good girl and be patient.” He groans against your ear.

“P-please Daddy—”

A broken gasp leaves your lips as he finally slides the tip inside you. You feel his body moving behind you, sitting up against you, and you know his eyes are on your pussy. He’s watching as your walls spread to begin to wrap around him. You whimper at the new angle as you try to accommodate his girth. He can barely get more of it in your tight walls at first, eventually using more force to open you up for him. It feels like you are being torn open, split in half.

“D-d-daddy…” you stutter and mewl.

“I know baby girl, I know.” Joel moans as he gradually slides more of his thickness inside you and you tremble more underneath him. Your pulsing walls are wrapped tightly around his cock, as your pussy pulls him in more. The pressure of his massive dick deep within your walls overwhelms you while you clutch the sheets below you in tight fists.

“Ah, daddy… you’re so big.” You whimper.

“You take me so well kitten. Doing so good for daddy.” He moans as he leans down to press a soft kiss against your cheek, as he keeps pushing more of his girth in you slowly. You feel so full already and you know he’s barely halfway in.

“So full…”

“I know my sweet girl, I know. You’re doing so well, soon you’ll be filled with all of daddy’s cock.”

The whines and whimpers and moans keep spilling from your lips as Joel continues to push deeper and deeper. Your hands continue to grip the sheets between your fingers as he penetrates your tight walls.

“Please daddy… more. I can take it.” You whine as you squirm underneath him.

He groans at your desperate whines, losing his composure momentarily as he thrusts the rest of his length all the way inside your heat. The head of his cock touching your cervix once he bottoms out. A scream leaves your mouth as you’re trembling underneath him, you try to adjust to his size while your pussy keeps clenching around his cock. You push your head into the pillows as pathetic whimpers keep falling from your lips.

“Fuck, so fuckin’ tight.” Joel hisses.

You moan and squeeze around his cock at his words, leaving him panting above you. Both of his hands move to grab at your ass cheeks, kneading them slowly and gently.

“Please d-daddy. I need more.”

“Fuck, baby girl, you look so beautiful like this, taking me all the way… like the good girl you are.” He can’t control the words that leave his lips as his hips move, quickly pulling himself almost all the way out of your pussy, making you whine at the empty feeling. “Such a needy pussy.” Joel groans before he thrusts himself all the way inside your cunt again.

“Ah ah fuck, daddy… oh my god—” you hiccup as he moves his hips slowly but hard against you. You cry out as he thrusts so deep inside you that it has your body slumping against the bed. Your pussy continues to pulse and squeeze around his thick cock, as it tries to adjust to its girth still.

You moan loudly, arching your back and pressing your ass up against him, and he grabs your asscheeks, keeping the angle perfect as he starts rolling his hips deeply into you. You feel his cock throbbing inside you as you tighten around him. He’s so deep, hitting your cervix repeatedly making your eyes roll back in your head.

“F-fuck baby, you’re so hot like this.” Joel slowly picks up his pace at the sight of you throwing your head back. “You’re all mine, isn’t that right baby girl?”

“Ah, y-yes yes yes, I’m all yours. P-Pleeaaase f-fuuuck, I need m-mo—” you’re begging and you’re unable to finish your sentence as he gives you a particular hard thrust.

You almost feel your arms giving out on you because of the force of his thrusts. Joel’s hands are clawing at the sides of your hips, guiding you with him, and he leans down again to place kisses on your upper back, his kisses travel down your spine, until he leans back up and just looks at you from behind.

Your mind goes blank as all you can do is focus on the feel of him stretching you, filling you up, so overwhelmed with bliss already. He thrusts deeper inside you, earning whines and moans as you continue to cry out his name. You try to tell him, breathlessly, about how good he is making you feel.

The sound of your pleasure fuels his desire to fuck you better, urging him to do more.

Joel picks up his pace, thrusting into you quicker, harder, hitting the spot that has your body going numb.

You claw at the sheets, burying your face into the pillow to muffle your screams. The air is all stuffy around you as his hips move faster, moaning you try to push back your hips against his to take more of his big cock. Your tiny pussy is so full of him, still trying to accommodate his thickness as it pulses and tightens around him. Joel moans at the sight, kneading your ass as he tries to bury himself more inside you, his tip hitting your cervix instantly. Your eyes roll back inside your head once again as you dig your fingers more into the bed, you mewl against the sheets at the overwhelming pleasure he’s giving you.

Hair is sticking at the nape of your neck and back, and Joel leans closer to brush it away but instead he grabs and tugs slightly on it, at the same time he thrusts harder and faster. You whine loudly as the angle makes him hit your sensitive spot inside you. You’re literally going insane, it feels so overwhelming and good.

Your noises become louder and higher pitched as he continues his assault on your pussy, indicating that you’re getting closer as well as the sounds of your pussy that keep meeting his cock over and over again. The sounds mix along with your desperate cries. “Your pussy is so tight and wet around me, begging me to fill you up in other ways… begging for my cum.” He groans as he thrusts harder.

“God, daddy-daddy please. Fuck I—”

You whine as your eyes roll back inside your head.

“What do you want, kitten?” He groans while one of his hands reach around you to slip against your clit making you writhe against him as he applies pressure. The pleasure has the tension tightening in the pit of your stomach, dying for your release.

“Oh, m-my goood… please J-j-d-daddy, h-harder, faster p-p-pleaaseee.” You squeak out in between moans. The wet noises of him easing into you over and over has your cheeks burning, realising just how wet and needy you are for him.

Joel buries his face in the crook of your neck, picking up his pace again, fucking you so fast and hard that you swore you never moaned so loud in your life. Suddenly, everything was becoming too much: the pressure against your clit, his grunts, the sticky, sweaty feeling, his scent, his warmth, the drilling of his cock inside you. Just everything. You try to catch your breath but from how Joel is thrusting inside you and the rubbing against your clit it feels almost impossible to do so.

“I-it feels s-soo— F-fuck, I-I, daddyyyy—”

“Does that feel good, sweet girl?” He asks as he leans down his body closer to yours making him hit your cervix repeatedly. You whimper and tremble underneath him as you nod, he moans against your ear as he whispers close to you. “Does it feel good? That I’m fucking you like this? Just the way you wanted it.”

“Yes! I-it feels sooooo gooood, Joeeel—” you whine as he continues to hit your sensitive spots inside you. Joel’s fingers continue to press down on your little nub making you squirm. The tension continues to build up as the pleasure is becoming too overwhelming.

Joel snaps his hips into you again and again, thrusting deep, causing you to see stars from knowing just how to pleasure you. Feeling like your head is swimming once again, you whine. “I’m sooo so close, p-please…” you beg desperately. You only need one more little push, a little bit more attention to reach your peak.

You are crying out for him, your moans almost sounding like his name, and he moves his head down again and presses kisses down your neck.

“Come for me kitten…” he whispers against your ear.

“Ah—”

His hips never slow down as he massages your clit. And then the coil in your lower tummy snaps, your eyes rolling back into your head while you arch your back as your world dissolves into pure ecstasy. You can’t stop yourself from shaking as you come against him. You almost black out because of the intensity of your orgasm, trembling like crazy. You whimper as the overstimulation is getting to you.

“Daddy wants to fill you up, baby girl.” He groans as his pace is becoming erratic, with less finesse as he charges towards his own finish line. “Going to fuck a my cum into you, kitten. Get you nice and full…”

Your walls pulse and become tighter around him as he continues to hit your cervix. He groans as his movements become more sloppy. Loud mewls leave your lips as he finally spills his seed inside you, coating each inch of you with a warmth that pools deep inside you.

“Ah...” you whimper underneath him as your body continues to shake.

Joel exhales deeply as he feels himself come down from his high. He gently pulls out of your tiny spent hole, making you whimper at the loss and you feel his eyes on you, knowing that he’s watching his seed drool out of you. Your pussy continues to clench repeatedly around nothing and he feels himself harden again at the sight.

You’re still trying to catch your breath as you whine every now and then. He moves off the bed, making his way to the bathroom to get a warm, wet cloth and returns to your legs to clean you carefully. Once he’s done he comes back into bed, wrapping his arms around you instantly.

You feel his face nuzzling in the crook of your neck. You tighten the hold you have around him, holding him close, pressing a soft kiss on the top of his head.

“That was truly amazing Joel… thank you.” You whisper against his hair before you hear him chuckle, his body shaking as he laughs softly.

“Any time baby. You know I’d do anythin’ for ya.” He says before bringing his head towards yours, leaning down once again to capture your lips in a soft kiss.

“I love you.” You whisper as you pull away to look at him tenderly while your fingers trace his face, his beard fondly.

“I love you too, sweetheart. So much.” He whispers back as he leans down to kiss your lips. The kiss is like velvet against yours, and there’s no hurry when he tilts his head a millimetre to fit against you better. His lips are so soft, swollen from all the kisses you’ve shared. His mouth moves, delicate and slow. He kisses you like he has all the time in the world.

His mouth moves slowly from your lips to the rest of your face, littering your skin full with them. “You did so well for me, such a good girl for me,” he whispers as he places soft kisses against your temples. Your cheeks burn at his sweet words. He leans down to capture your lips in another kiss. Kissing each other languidly for a while before you feel him trace your thighs with his fingers. You pull away and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“What?” He chuckles, playing coy and tries not to laugh as you shake your head with mock annoyance.

“I know what you are thinking.” You squint your eyes at him suspiciously.

“And what am I thinking?” He asks playfully, staring you down as he tries to stifle a grin.

“Well, I don’t even have to say what you’re thinking, I already feel you getting hard again mister.” You say with a playful smile as you poke his chest. He quickly grabs your hand, bringing it up to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly. Butterflies erupt in your stomach at the action.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He whispers against your hand, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“Right… of course you don’t.” You roll your eyes at him playfully.

You yelp as you feel him pinch your ass. “Don’t be a brat.” He grabs your ass in his hands, bringing you closer against him as you whimper, making him chuckle at your reaction. “You know that I’ll always want you.”

Heat rises to your cheeks at his words. “Me too.” You whisper as you bite your lips with a smile.

His eyes twinkle deviously as he squeezes your cheeks in his hands. “I could wear you out even more than I did last night.” Joel says cheekily, winking as a smirk plays on his lips.

“Joel!” You give him a playful push as your cheeks heat up at his words. Joel laughs before wrapping his arms around you, puckering his lips while making kissy noises and littering your face with kisses which makes you giggle and squirm against him. Joel’s grip tightens around you as he continues to kiss you all over your face playfully.

“I know you love it baby girl, don’t try to deny it.” He whispers before leaning his head down to kiss your neck, you squeak and continue to squirm against him.

“What if I say I don’t?” You taunt teasingly, cocking your head to the side.

“Then you’re a terrible liar.” He says looking all smug before his lips nip at your jawline.

Your giggles turn to breathy whimpers the more he kisses and licks your neck. You feel yourself lose easily in his kisses and touches, your body turning to mush instantly.

“I’ve been very nice, very good to you… Maybe you’d love to cum around me again?” He smiles as he looks down at you deviously as you gasp, giving him a playful push again.

“Joel!!” You squeal before he holds your body close to his, swallowing your noises as he kisses you deeply. Both of your laughs turn into breathy moans as you both continue to touch each other.

The morning continues like this, your fingers wandering all over each other, giving each other kisses all over as the pleasure between you two doesn’t stop. The day is filled with love and desire for one another, you will never get tired of loving that man.

He’s your heaven.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fic #joel miller x female reader #tlou x reader #tlou x you #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #my writing

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kpop · 6 months

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K-Pop Spotlight: DAY6

Come one, come all to a K-Pop Spotlight that is sure to dazzle and delight ’til the final curtain. This week, all eyes are on DAY6 following the release of their eighth mini-album, Fourever, and brand new title track, "Welcome to the Show." We caught up with the band to discuss their goals as they approach their 10th anniversary and their ever-growing connection to their fans through their music. Check out our full interview below!

Tracks like “Welcome to the Show,” “The Power of Love,” and “Get The Hell Out” seem to have very different themes. Can you tell us a little about how these songs relate to each other and what aspects make this album cohesive?

SUNGJIN: As we pursue the idea of being a 'band that sings every moment,' it seems like our albums, including the recent one, prioritize diversity in songs and situations rather than unity. Consequently, our albums contain various genres and narratives. However, there seems to be a commonality in most songs, depicting situations that everyone has either gone through or might experience.

Young K: First and foremost, I would say this album is a compilation of the best songs we could create. There's definitely a theme of love running through it. "Welcome to the Show," "The Power of Love," and "Get The Hell Out" all talk about the concept of love.

What goes into creating titles for DAY6 songs and albums, especially those that don’t come directly from your lyrics? Do you find it hard to condense the intentions and themes of a song into a title?

Young K: While there have been cases like that, all the songs on this album came from the lyrics. Sometimes, when choosing a title, we select the one that best describes the song—other times, we choose to give it a twist or make it more intriguing.

WONPIL: Naming songs involves a lot of deliberation. We often contemplate which title will catch the eye and capture the song's essence. Usually, we try to take it from a verse in the chorus. This can be a challenging part of the songwriting process.

Is there a creative project you’ve always wanted to work on but haven’t gotten the chance/found the time?

SUNGJIN: I'm very curious, and have a principle of "trying to experience as much as possible." There are so many things I want to try musically and personally, especially among the things I know but haven't tried yet.

DOWOON: I hope we can have a song that we can collaborate on with My Day, like a choir.

What does your work/studio setup look like? Where do you feel the most creatively inspired?

DOWOON: We try to keep the studio as tidy as possible and make it comfortable for practice sessions.

WONPIL: When working on songs, we talk a lot. We get inspiration from little conversations, joking around, sharing stories, and listening to music from various eras regardless of genre while giving opinions. We also try to build emotional connections with the songs. There’s a lot of communication going on. The songwriting process takes place in the studio of our long-time collaborator, composer Hong Jisang, with whom we've been working together since our debut.

How do you want to evolve as a musician/producer?

Young K: I want to be eagerly anticipated and awaited as an artist. Without those who wait for us, we wouldn't release or even step onto the stage. So I’m always thankful for My Day.

WONPIL: My biggest goal is to make good music for My Day and the public, so I think I'll continue to ponder. When working on songs, I pour my sincerity into them. I constantly strive to express this sincerity musically, fully capturing the emotions I want to convey. I hope to create songs that can still be listened to even after 10 or 20 years.

Design your own Tumblr blog: choose an aesthetic, a blog name, and would you be a frequent poster or lurker?

SUNGJIN: I think I’ll use it to catch up on friends' updates. For the blog name, THUMB BLUR sounds good to me. I might end up being a lurker who never posts.

DOWOON: Maybe a blog for plants? I think I'll post it like a diary.

Want more DAY6? Check out their new mini album Fourever and the music video for the title track “Welcome to the Show,” both out now!

#day6 #day6 kpop spotlight #kpop spotlight

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onmyyan · 2 months

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Cold cases warm faces pt.2

A/n: part two for the lovely anon who requested it, thank you for your sweet words I'm so happy you're enjoying my work!! 🥰 Headcannons and a drabble at the end part one here

Shortly after you're brought to your new "home" a fight breaks out over who gets to feed you.

You sat silent and amused by the situation, after all it wasn't every day you got kidnapped by a group of vigilantes

At first you thought this was a betrayal, thought you'd end up in a box or something worse, but then the argument breaks out and you can't help but grin at the lovestruck idiots before you.

Leaned back, legs spread an aura of confidence pours out from your bound form.

Dick was the first to approach you, crouched down to be eye level with you, Dick smiles at you like you held the sun in your hands.

"I'm sorry about all this- I know you have questions but there's pressing matters to attend to," he rolls up the sleeve of his costume revealing a toned forearm, you could hear his blood flowing, calling your name like a siren song.

Before he could come any closer he was yanked backwards by Jason, the behemoth of a man glared down at his older brother an air of danger around him.

"the fuck you think you're doing Dickie? If anyone's feeding her it's me."

"and why is that exactly?" Tim speaks up, his question on everyone's mind

"Because I'm healthy -"

This argument included everyone but Damien, who amidst the commotion, slits his arm open with his sword, proudly displaying his wrist with gleaming eyes, "Take it." He says quietly, as if the words were only for you to hear.

Without hesitation your lips are wrapped around his wrist, fangs sinking in with not even a flinch from the man before you

After this a schedule is worked out.

You could escape if you wanted to, but you were having too much fun with them all.

Five men fighting tooth and claw for the slightest bit of affection from you

You're dressed in the finest luxuries money can afford Bruce wouldn't admit it but he loves dressing you up , lathering you in gifts

Dick is utterly enamored by you, he love listening to you talk about your past, as long as you don't bring up past lovers of course .

Jason is your lapdog he rarely leaves his side, absolutely needs to have his head in your lap while you speak of anything and everything

Tim studies everything there is to know about your kind because he completely intends to join you in eternity

Although he's not the first to approach you about this subject, that title goes to Jason, one afternoon during one of your many talks, he breached the subject of your maker, someone you hadn't thought about in years.

“It’s difficult to explain to humans. Hell I wouldn’t have understood it 100 years ago,” you paused to lick your lips, scouring your mind for the right words to describe the answer to their question. “A sire bond is kind of unavoidable tethering between a maker and their well, sire.” Jason’s eyes didn’t dare look away from your form, eagerly drinking your word. “If she told me to jump I’d have to ask how high.” Your hands rubbed together, an anxious habit from your human life that hadn’t shown itself in centuries. The mere thought of your maker left you with a complex cocktail of emotions, clearly visible on your face, an ugly feeling settled at the pit of Jason’s stomach, he’d never seen such a look on your face, and for it to come from some woman he didn't know- he forced himself from his darkening thoughts at your sudden movement.

You were now pacing the room, gracefully maneuvering around the space. “For the first few years it’s all but impossible to be without them, it’s like this incessant burn that can’t be soothed without them.” He nodded, all too familiar with the feeling.

"supposedly your closest bond is that of a maker and their sire

"Turn me" your shock couldn't be hidden but he didn't let you sit in it for long.

"I'm dead serious. You're the air in my lungs and the idea of you spending eternity alone don't sit right with me, I've already died once, whats one more time?"

"Jason-"

"I love you- every fiber in my being was pulled into existance to love you. Please let me."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere batfam #yandere batfamily x reader #yandere batfamily #yandere bruce wayne x reader #yandere jason todd x reader #yandere dick grayson x reader #yandere tim drake x reader #yandere damian wayne x reader

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jenomi · 3 months

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i miss you, i'm sorry

pairing: idol!jeno x idol!reader

you weren't anticipating seeing jeno at your gig today. you were at a live lounge to perform your new song and a cover of "I miss you, I'm sorry" by Gracie Abrams. you'd be lying if you said you weren't thinking of jeno when you picked that song.

jeno was here to promote his new song with his group, but you didn't bother to check who the other feature would be when you signed up for the show. nobody knew about your relationship except close friends, not even your manager so they couldn't warn you of this. both of you had to keep it a secret due to the nature of your careers.

but it was 5 years. 5 years with jeno, the love of your life. or was it now the former love of your life? it hurt your heart to think about it.

when you bumped into him and the rest of nct dream, you said your hellos politely. you used to be friends with the rest of the dreamies, but the relationship faded as you stopped dating jeno. every time you would look at jeno, it's like he had a radar for you so he would look back at you immediately. it hurt to look at him in the eyes, so you looked away quickly.

you went on stage first, performing the title song to your new mini album. it was an upbeat song, describing the freedom you feel when not bound by ropes holding you back. but for your real fans, they would study the undertones of your new song and know that it's actually a sad song about the longing for those boundaries you once had.

jeno listened to your song, because of course no matter what, he still supports you. he was by your side as you rose to fame.

looking back, you realized your relationship with jeno was a little suffocating. having to keep it a secret, not being able to eat out at your favorite restaurants, or even walk on the street together. it was fun at first and you believed you loved each other enough to make it work. but jeno started to get more and more nervous about your secret relationship, especially seeing how other male idols caught in dating scandals were treated. you tried to ease his mind on the topic, but as time went on, it was beyond saving.

you just didn't think jeno would be able to leave so easily.

"The next song I'll sing is a cover by one of my favorite artists. Um..." you weren't sure if you should give any background information, knowing jeno was backstage and might be watching, "I hope you enjoy."

"Do you remember happy together? I do, don't you?"

although the end was messy, you still cling on to the better moments in your relationship. when you went to the beach together, covered by hats, sunglasses, and a big umbrella, backs more tan than your chest from lying on your fronts to hide from the public. it was ridiculous and excessive, but you would always laugh at each other's uneven tan. when he would come home after being away for months on tour, locking himself in your house to catch up on lost time.

"You said, 'forever,' in the end I fought it. Please be honest, are we better for it?"

being together for 5 years, naturally you talked about marriage. it was forever for the both of you, you especially couldn't imagine yourself with anyone else. but now, you watch jeno from afar and online and see that he's happy. you also got some freedom back after breaking up. you can't help but wonder if maybe you outgrew each other? are you better off without each other?

a piece of your heart broke off every time you would answer 'yes'.

"You said, "forever," and I almost bought it. I miss fighting in your old apartment"

you begin tearing up as you reach the latter half of the song. you always found sanctuary at jeno's apartment. there were memories all over it.

jeno was watching from side stage. he could hear the slight quiver in your voice. he couldn't miss it, he could always tell your mood from your voice. he loved you for 5 years. how could he forget? he could also hear how much of your heart you were pouring into this song. he couldn't help but reminisce about your relationship. he felt a lump forming in his throat as he became overcome with nostalgia from your relationship.

"And I know you said that we're not talking. But I miss you, I'm sorry"

jeno told you to stop messaging him. it came out harsh, but it was too hard to stay in contact with you and not want to get back together. in the moment, he thought he was doing the right thing, but now looking back he doesn't quite remember the reason for breaking up in the first place. he kept up with your activities, he would watch your performance videos to see how you were doing and add up the streaming numbers for your success.

as he watched your videos and you performing live, he realized he messed up. how could he live without you? the time after your breakup were a blur, jeno kept busy to prevent himself from thinking about you in his free time. watching you now, crying as you sang a song about a messy breakup, much similar to the one between the two of you, his heart broke. he missed you, too. he'd like to think this song is dedicated to him - but he'll confront you after your set to talk.

as you sing the outro, you're trying your best to keep it together. too many memories were flooding back. you knew what you were getting into when choosing this song, but seeing jeno in person for the first time after he walked out on you opened the gates to all the memories you shoved in the back of your mind trying to forget.

when you finish, a tear slips down your cheek before you're able to swipe it away. the crowd cheers and coos as you bow and say your thank yous before rushing off stage.

you stop in your tracks when you see jeno standing side stage with sad, tear-rimmed eyes.

"y/n-"

the tears are about to burst just hearing your name on his lips. you hold up your hand and walk quickly towards your waiting room. you pass the other dreamies on your way as they call your name, their voices laced with concern.

you hear the producer call them on stage. good, jeno won't be chasing after you. after all, he put his job above you in the end. by the time they were done, you'd be long gone.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺

part 2 here!

#jeno #nct dream jeno #jeno imagines #jeno angst #nct dream imagines #nct jeno #nct dream #jeno lee #nct #nct jeno imagines

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txmxkis · 13 days

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i'm only really me when i'm here with you

pairing. boothill x gn!reader

genre. hurt/comfort

wc. 1.5k+

summary. you're determined to help boothill heal from his trauma by... doing his hair?

warnings. i took liberties with this, who knows what specific parts he actually has left or whether he can blush or not (in my heart he can lol), mention of boothill picking u up but i mean. he’s literally so strong he could handle anything, i made him soooo sad and it’s possibly wildly out of character, selfship coded as usual rip

a/n. continuing the tradition of using lyrics from songs on selfship playlists for fic titles lol. based on my tags on this post

they say that trauma is stored in the body, and while boothill didn't necessarily have a complete body anymore, this was still something that you thought about frequently when it came to his physical form.

regardless of just how much of his original self remained, there was still enough of him left that you were sure it had to be true in some capacity. after all, he retained his head and his heart—at least you were fairly certain—two of the most vital components of human anatomy.

it was so hard to read him. the real him. he tried so hard to always act confident and cool. actually, he didn't even really have to try or act. it seemed as if it came to him naturally and endlessly. there was a perpetual air of optimism surrounding him that was difficult to dim even on his most wearisome days.

even after experiencing whatever horrors he had to face from mission to mission, when he came home, the door to whatever room you were currently in would fling open—sometimes scaring you half to death—and he would greet you so happily that it felt as if there were no terrible things in the universe whatsoever.

you cherished his mannerisms, especially because you could be a pessimistic sort of person. rather frequently, in fact. you loved having him near you, able to draw laughter from you, however unwillingly it might be on your part at times. he was oddly skilled at making you feel assured and comfortable, in a way that nothing and no one had ever done before. you couldn’t seem to remember how you ever lived without his encouragement, and you didn’t think you could ever feel truly whole without it again.

there really was no accounting for his relentlessly positive attitude. given what he'd seen and endured, you thought it was damn near impossible to be as carefree as he seemed to be. at any rate, he did manage it. however, there were times, moments he rarely ever allowed you to witness, in which his façade would falter slightly and betray just how heavily the past weighed on him.

occasionally, you would catch him staring at his reflection, a downcast expression painting his beautiful features. every time you spoke of your family, you could detect glimpses of sadness in his eyes, albeit hidden behind a smile. once you even caught him crying as silently as he could—you assumed so as not to alert you—his shoulders sagging under an unforeseen weight, a look on his face that you could only describe as heartbroken. your own heart broke with his in that moment.

you always tried to be particularly attentive following those moments, but it was so difficult to get him to open up to you. he just wanted you to be happy. to not bother worrying about him. you had your own problems, after all, and there was no need for him to add to your burden. no need for him to ask for your pity.

he knew you cared for him deeply enough that it would cause you pain, and even if it was only a fragment of the grief that he lived with every day, he was sure that he would feel terribly and incessantly guilty about it. if he could remove every single aspect of your life that caused you suffering, he would do it in a heartbeat, and he could say that because it was one of the few original parts he had left. how could he add to that suffering by forcing you to imagine all the horrors from his own life?

it took so much time and effort on your part to convince him to open the door to himself, if even just a tiny crack. he was still extremely careful with his words and the details that he disclosed to you—he didn't want to overwhelm you, and he certainly didn't want to hurt you. in reality, these conversations, painful as they were for you to hear, actually helped you to feel as though you could comfort him more effectively.

yes, it hurt immensely to know even a small fraction of how much anguish he had experienced. yes, you despised the people who had done this to him and wanted to fight them yourself, in fact. yes, your chest felt tight with ache and sadness on his behalf. still, you could help him more by knowing than by not knowing.

eventually, you were able to make it this far, brushing through his hair as gently as your hands could manage. he had confessed to you in one of his more vulnerable moments that the white shock of hair on his head often served as a stark reminder of worse times, of the trauma and stress inflicted on his body. the admission gave you an idea, one that made boothill feel more than just a little bit exposed. he wasn’t accustomed to being looked after like this, with so much affection and love.

you began to make a routine out of it. every day you would do something with his hair—whether it was braiding it and tying it up intricately to make him feel pretty or simply combing through the strands and allowing them to cascade around his shoulders and down his back.

sometimes you would sit him in front of a mirror while you worked so that he could see exactly what you were doing in the moment. he didn’t quite understand how it all came together, but he found it fascinating to see how you twisted and weaved. at times, you were so focused on the hair in your hands that your brows would furrow, tongue poking out slightly between your lips. in the reflection, you genuinely looked like you were enjoying yourself.

even more noticeable to him was the expression you wore when you looked at him through the mirror. your gaze was so full of tenderness that his chest ached. he could swear that his heart actually skipped a beat. whenever that happened, you could see a flaring blush creep up his cheeks and into his ears, and you couldn’t help but laugh just a little bit at how endearing it was.

other times, you would settle on the couch, with him seated on the floor between your legs, adorning his hair with the cutest accessories, the two of you laughing and joking the whole time. you would delicately twist the locks back, securing them with pretty, multicolored clips that shone in the light.

when you were done, you would lead him slowly to a mirror, hands over his eyes, nearly stumbling over his legs as you walked behind him. you would pull your hands quickly from his face, revealing your handiwork, beaming with pride and grinning at how adorable he looked. he loved every minute of it—and every bit of you, he would think to himself as he turned to pick you up and spin you around, laughing in that deep voice of his. then he’d set you down gently, thanking you for your hard work with kisses sprinkled across your face.

days that were particularly trying for him would simply be spent in comfortable silence. when he didn’t feel like talking from the pain of it all, he would wordlessly lay his head on your chest as you ran your fingers through his long locks. feeling your touch—the slight pull on his scalp, the tickle of shifting hair—it all made him feel so relaxed that he could melt right into your skin until you absorbed him fully into you. often, the combination of this and the gentle, steady beat of your heart would lull him to sleep, and seeing his expression ease and soften in these moments was all the reward you ever needed.

in the beginning, it was unclear whether this dedicated time spent caring for his hair was helping or not. over time, however, you noticed a glimmer in his eyes—something that told you he would be alright, despite everything.

pain still remained; it always would, but instead of constantly gazing at his reflection with grief, every once in a while you would catch a hint of a smile pulling at his lips. it was as if he was remembering how you hummed while placing those clips, or how he had teasingly whipped you with his hair on a more playful occasion, or any number of positive memories that you had put so much effort into lovingly crafting with him.

you were determined to do your best, slowly but surely, to lighten his burden—or at least help carry it. there was no reason for him to feel alone when he had you by his side. and if creating these happy memories was what you had to do in order to help him, well, you would gladly continue forever.

reblogs & interactions are appreciated! thank you for reading! <3 — txmxkis

#boothill x reader #boothill angst #boothill fluff #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you #honkai star rail angst #honkai star rail fluff #hsr angst #hsr fluff #honkai star rail imagines #hsr imagines #x reader #reader insert #i just love him okay #i am running away now JWNEJDJWKDKSK #₊˚⊹⋆˚☂︎ rini writes.ᐟ ₊˚⊹⋆˚

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perfectlyoongi · 1 month

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LONG-DISTANCE!NAMJOON who has your city in the weather app on his phone. as soon as Namjoon started talking to you and felt a little flower blooming inside his heart, he was quick to add your city to his app. seeing it every day, Namjoon made sure to always remind you to wear a scarf or take your umbrella with you. whatever the weather in your city, Namjoon was always ready with little pieces of advice and reminders to make your day better. “it’s going to be quite hot there today.do you have your water bottle with you? carry a fan in your backpack and stop for some ice cream before you get home. you deserve this treat.”

LONG-DISTANCE!NAMJOON who swears the only music that warms his soul is the sound of your voice. Namjoon was in love with you. in a way, your presence in his life had made the world a worthy place to live. you were like a ray of light in the grayest of days. with your laughs and stories, you could warm Namjoon’s heart even if you were miles away. and it was in your voice that Namjoon knew the true comfort of existence. being an eternity away from you, it was in your voice that Namjoon found true love. and there was no music or symphony that could compare with the melody of your voice. “talk to me. tell me about your day. describe the sky to me. say whatever you want, but speak. i need the calm that your voice brings me.”

LONG-DISTANCE!NAMJOON who offers you a set of cards titled ‘open when…’. the world was cruel and challenging, that was a truth known to everyone; as such, Namjoon tried to make your distance less painful by writing a set of letters for you to open at specific times. from a drawing of two arms for when you need a hug, or a recipe for soup when you want comfort, an extensive array of letters were delivered to you on a blustery winter morning — and you swore the sun came out the moment you saw that set of cards. “i think i planned every possible scenario. but if you need a card and don’t find one in this set, send a text. i leave everything to write you a digital letter, just ask.”

LONG-DISTANCE!NAMJOON who says he already missed you before he met you. when he met you, Namjoon felt at peace. for some reason, since the day he met you, Namjoon stopped being so heavy. it was as if you had brought with you the garden of eden that Namjoon delighted in from the moment he met you. in a way, Namjoon’s heart stopped bleeding when the two of you formed a friendship. and oh, when his flower expanded into bushes and trees, Namjoon could feel, for the first time in years, what true happiness was. “meeting you was like coming home after a long day of work. meeting you was a comfort i already knew but had never experienced. meeting you was meeting me for the first time. and i missed you and your soul so much.”

LONG-DISTANCE!NAMJOON who writes a song about you and the distance that separates you. it was more than obvious that Namjoon would express his feelings in a song — it was the only way he knew to alleviate some of the pain he felt. but unlike all the other songs, that one was just made for you. from lyrics to melody, the song was made from scratch, always with you in mind, wanting to show you how much he loved you and how unfair fate was for having put you so far away. “i wrote this song to ease the weight of my heart. it’s a simple poem about my feelings, but i want you to know that my entire soul is forever engraved here. and only for you.”

LONG-DISTANCE!NAMJOON who reads to you every night. fairy tales never sounded so innocent when uttered by Namjoon’s tender lips. telling you various adventures and love stories, Namjoon read to you every night before you went to sleep, hoping that his voice would be enough to bring you some comfort even though he was on the other side of the phone. with delicate words and graceful pronunciations, Namjoon lulled you into a deep sleep at the end of an extremely exhausting day — a reminder that he would always be just a call away from you. “today i want to do something different. when i went to the cafe, i heard a conversation between two strangers and i would like to repeat it to you. it’s about a flower’s love for water.”

LONG-DISTANCE!NAMJOON who left everything behind just to be able to hug you. Namjoon was at a stage in his life where only you mattered. yes, he loved his friends. yes, he loved his family. yes, he loved his job. but, oh, how he loved you. the world only made sense because Namjoon knew you existed; all light came from you, all happiness came from you, all life came from you. you were the world to Namjoon and he didn’t mind leaving all his other loves behind if it meant having you in his arms for the first time. “my heart was begging to come home. i really needed to see you. we spent a lot of time apart. now i’m here. now i’m home. me and my heart are at home.”

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wonyowonyo · 2 months

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Burnout (P. Hanni X M!Reader)

Another upd for my cutie pham <3 This one's loosely inspired by a song with the same title as the story. I also used first person POV for this one to amplify the feelings for the story. Anyways this one was really a new experience for me, but I hope yall like this!

You and Hanni strolled hand-in-hand through the bustling city streets, the glowing lights of Seoul casting a warm glow over their faces. As an up-and-coming idol, Hanni's fame was on the rise, but in this moment, it felt like it was just the two of you, lost in your own little world.

Hanni's delicate features were radiant, her brown eyes sparkling with joy as she laughed at one of your silly jokes. The sound sent a shiver down your spine - God, you loved that laugh. It was music to your ears, a siren's call that you could never resist.

You both ducked into a cozy café, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sweet pastries enveloping both of your noses. Hanni's eyes lit up as she surveyed the menu, eagerly describing her favorite drinks and desserts. You couldn't help but be captivated by her enthusiasm, her passion infectious.

As you both sipped your drinks and shared a decadent slice of cake, Hanni's phone suddenly buzzed with a call. Her manager's name flashed on the screen, and you could see the disappointment in her eyes as she reluctantly answered.

The conversation was brief, but you could tell by the way Hanni's shoulders slumped that it was not good news. "I'm so sorry, Y/N," she said, her voice laced with regret. "I have to go. There's an emergency at the agency, and they need me back right away."

You nodded, understanding the demands of her career, even if it meant sacrificing your precious time together. You pulled her into a tight embrace, savoring the warmth of her body and the familiar scent of her perfume. "It's okay, love. I know how important your work is. Go, and be amazing."

Hanni squeezed your back, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I love you, You. I promise I'll make it up to you, okay?"

With a final, lingering kiss, Hanni hurried out the door, leaving you alone in the cozy café, the bittersweet taste of their interrupted date still lingering on your lips.

You sit alone in the café, the once-vibrant atmosphere now feeling a bit hollow without Hanni's presence. You take a sip of your now lukewarm coffee, the bitter liquid doing little to soothe the ache in your chest.

As you stare out the window, watching the bustling city go by, memories of your relationship flood your mind. The way Hanni's face would light up when you both plan a spontaneous date night, the inside jokes you guys shared that would have you both in stitches, the tender moments where you simply hold each other close, reveling in the comfort of each other's embrace.

But lately, those moments had become fewer and farther between. Hanni's schedule had become increasingly demanding as her fame and success grew. You understood, of course – you knew what you were signing up for when you fell for the charming idol. Yet, it didn't make it any easier to accept the reality of your situation.

You sighed heavily, running a hand through your hair in frustration. You want nothing more than to be by Hanni's side, to support her and be there for her, but the distance and the constant interruptions are starting to wear on you. You love her with every fiber of your being, but the uncertainty of your future together is a heavy weight on your heart.

As you sit there, lost in your thoughts, the bustling noise of the café fades away, and all you can hear is the echoes of Hanni's laughter, the soft whispers of "I love you," and the bittersweet ache of a love that feels further and further out of reach.

The months pass, and you can't help but feel the growing distance between you and Hanni. What was once a vibrant, passionate love has slowly started to fade, like a once-vibrant painting slowly weathering away under the relentless march of time.

Hanni's schedule has become increasingly demanding, with back-to-back schedules, endless promotional events, and extended periods away from home. And with each passing day, You feel the ache in your heart grow stronger, the yearning for her touch, her laughter, her presence becoming a constant, nagging ache.

One evening, as you both sit across from each other in your apartment, the silence is deafening. Hanni's eyes are glued to her phone, fingers rapidly typing away as she coordinates her schedule. You watch her, your heart sinking with each passing moment.

"Hanni," you say softly, reaching out to gently touch her hand. "Can we talk?"

Hanni's gaze flicks up to meet yours, her expression guarded. "About what?" she asks, her tone clipped.

You swallow hard, the lump in your throat nearly choking you. "About us. About how... how things have been between us lately."

Hanni's eyes narrow slightly, and she pulls her hand away, setting her phone down on the table. "I don't know what you mean. Everything's fine."

"No, Hanni, it's not," You press, your voice rising with a desperate edge. "We used to be so close, so in sync. But lately, it feels like you're always distracted, always somewhere else. I feel like I'm losing you."

Hanni's jaw clenches, and she averts her gaze, unwilling to meet your pleading eyes. "I'm sorry, Y/N, but you knew what you were getting into when we started this. My career is important to me, and it's only going to get busier. If you can't handle that, then..."

She trails off, the unspoken words hanging heavily in the air between them. You feel your heart shatter, the realization dawning that Hanni may be willing to choose her career over their relationship.

"Hanni, please," he begs, reaching out to her once more. "I love you. I want to be there for you, to support you. But I need you to be here for me too. I need you to make time for us, for our relationship."

Hanni's eyes glisten with unshed tears, and for a moment, You see the vulnerable, conflicted woman he fell in love with. But then, her expression hardens, and she shakes her head.

"I can't make any promises, Y/N. My work has to come first. If you can't accept that, then maybe... maybe we're not meant to be."

With those words, she gathers her things and leaves, the sound of the door slamming shut echoing in the deafening silence.

You sit there, alone in the apartment, your heart shattered into a million pieces. The love he had cherished for so long suddenly feels like a distant memory, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand.

The days that follow are a painful blur for you. You find yourself constantly reaching for your phone, yearning to hear Hanni's voice, to feel her comforting presence by your side. But the calls and texts go unanswered, leaving you feeling more alone and adrift than ever before.

You tried to go about your daily life, throwing yourself into your work in a desperate attempt to distract yourself from the gaping hole in your heart. But everywhere you look, you’re reminded of Hanni – the coffee shop you used to go to frequently, the park where you would take long strolls together, the cozy nook in your apartment where you guys would curl up and watch movies together.

The memories torment him, replaying in an endless loop in your mind. He can still vividly recall the way Hanni's eyes would light up when she talked about her dreams, the soft, tender kisses they would share, the way she would trace the contours of your face with such adoration.

But now, those precious moments feel like they happened in another lifetime. The Hanni you knew and loved seems like a distant, fading memory, replaced by a stranger who is consumed by the demands of her career.

You find yourself wondering when things started to shift, when the spark that once burned so brightly between them began to flicker and fade. Was it the constant schedule changes and last-minute cancellations? The long, lonely nights spent apart? Or was it something deeper, a fundamental shift in their priorities and desires?

You ache to reach out to Hanni, to plead with her to reconsider, to fight for the love they once shared. But the words suddenly get stuck in your throat, and you find yourself paralyzed by the fear of losing her forever.

The silence between the two of you grows deafening, each passing day a fresh reminder of the chasm that now separates you both. You feel adrift, your heart yearning for the woman you love, even as you know that she may be slipping further and further away.

The weeks turn into months, and the distance between you and Hanni only seems to grow. What was once a vibrant, passionate romance now feels like a distant memory, fading like a once-vibrant painting under the relentless march of time.

You find yourself constantly on edge, your heart racing every time your phone lights up, only to be disappointed when it's not Hanni's name on the screen. You long to hear her voice, to feel the warmth of her embrace, but the calls and texts go unanswered, leaving you feeling more alone and adrift than ever before.

The ache in your chest is a constant companion, a dull, throbbing pain that never seems to go away. You tried to distract yourself, throwing yourself into your work and social activities, but nothing can truly fill the void that Hanni has left in your life.

When you do manage to see each other, the tension is palpable. The easy banter and playful flirtation that once defined their relationship has been replaced by stilted conversation and an uneasy silence. You can see the strain and exhaustion in Hanni's eyes, the weight of her demanding schedule taking a visible toll on her.

You wanted to reach out, to pull her into your arms and hold her close, to reassure her that you’re here for her, no matter what. But you find yourself frozen, unable to bridge the growing chasm between you two.

As the months pass, You start to wonder if this is it – if the love the two of you once shared is truly slipping through your fingers, forever lost to the relentless demands of Hanni's career. The thought cuts you to the core, leaving you feeling adrift and utterly bereft.

————————————————————

The memory of how you and Hanni's relationship first blossomed feels like a lifetime ago, a bittersweet echo of the love and passion that once burned so brightly between them.

It had started innocently enough - You had caught one of Newjeans' live performances, captivated by the raw energy and undeniable talent of the young group. But it was Hanni, with her radiant smile and effortless stage presence, who had truly captured your heart.

After the show, You had impulsively waited by the stage door, hoping for a chance encounter. To your surprise and delight, Hanni had emerged, surrounded by a gaggle of eager fans. But as your eyes met, You swore you felt a spark of connection, a brief moment of recognition that set your heart racing.

Summoning your courage, you approached her, introducing yourself and complimenting her performance. Hanni, ever the gracious idol, had smiled warmly and engaged you in friendly conversation, seemingly unaware of the effect she was having on you.

Over the next few weeks, you found yourself drawn back to the venue, eagerly anticipating each of Newjeans' shows. And each time, you would catch Hanni's eye, the two of you sharing a brief, tantalizing moment of connection that set your pulse racing.

It was during one of those chance encounters that Hanni had boldly approached you, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "You know, I've noticed you here a lot," she had said, a coy smile playing on her lips. "Is there a particular reason you keep coming to our shows?"

You had felt your cheeks flush, suddenly self-conscious. "I... I just really admire your work," you stammered. "And, well, I've been hoping to get the chance to, um, talk to you."

Hanni had laughed, the sound like music to your ears. "In that case, how about we grab a coffee sometime? I'd love to get to know you better."

From that moment on, You and Hanni were inseparable, the burgeoning romance blossoming like a delicate flower in the spring. They would steal away to quiet corners, losing themselves in endless conversations, their laughter and stolen glances drawing curious stares from onlookers.

It was a whirlwind courtship, marked by stolen moments and passionate kisses, as You and Hanni navigated the challenges of their unlikely pairing. But through it all, their love for each other only seemed to grow stronger, a bond that transcended the boundaries of their different worlds.

The blissful days with Hanni feel like a distant dream, a bittersweet echo of a love that once burned so passionately between them.

You can still vividly recall the way Hanni's eyes would light up whenever they were together, the way her infectious laughter would send shivers down your spine. Your stolen moments were electric, filled with a palpable chemistry that made the rest of the world fade away.

In those early days, the challenges of Hanni's burgeoning idol career seemed surmountable, a hurdle they could overcome together through sheer force of will and unwavering devotion. You were willing to do whatever it took to support Hanni, to be her rock and her solace amidst the whirlwind of her demanding schedule.

And Hanni, in turn, had made you feel like the most important person in her world. She would carve out precious pockets of time just for you, taking you away to cozy cafes or quiet parks, where you both could lose yourselves in each other's embrace, unburdened by the constraints of her celebrity status.

Those carefree, blissful moments were the foundation upon which your love was built, a testament to the depth of your connection and the unwavering commitment you guys shared. You had been certain that this bond was unbreakable, that no challenge could ever truly tear the both of you apart.

But as the demands of Hanni's career escalated, the cracks in their relationship began to show. The once-spontaneous dates and stolen embraces became fewer and farther between, replaced by hurried phone calls and hastily rescheduled plans.

You tried your best to be understanding, to be the supportive, patient partner that Hanni needed. You knew the sacrifices she was making, the dreams she was chasing, and he was determined to be there for her, no matter what.

But as the distance between you two grew, You couldn't help but feel the ache in your heart deepen. The intimacy they had once shared felt like a distant memory, replaced by a growing sense of disconnect and uncertainty.

And now, as you sit alone in the apartment you once spent time with, the echoes of your laughters and the warmth of Hanni’s embrace feel like a cruel taunt, a painful reminder of what you may have lost forever.

You know, deep down, that you need to make a decision – to either fight for Hanni and your relationship, or to let her go, to set her free to pursue her dreams, even if it means sacrificing your own happiness.

But the fear of losing her, of having to face a future without her by your side, is a weight that threatens to crush you. You find yourself caught in a painful limbo, torn between your love for Hanni and the realization that you may have to let her go.

The uncertainty of your future together haunts you, a constant, nagging presence that leaves you feeling more lost and alone than you’ve ever felt before. All you can do is hold on, to cherish the fleeting moments you guys do have together, and to pray that somehow, someway, you two can find your way back to each other, before it's too late

Those precious memories now feel like bittersweet reminders of a time long past, a testament to the love that once burned so brightly between them. And as You finds himself adrift in the present, he can't help but wonder if that spark can ever be rekindled, or if the distance and demands of Hanni's career have doomed their relationship to a tragic end.

————————————————————

The air is thick with tension as Hanni sits across from you, her eyes downcast and her lips pressed into a thin line. She's been dreading this moment, the inevitable conversation they've been avoiding for weeks, but she knows it has to be done.

"Y/N, I..." Hanni starts, her voice wavering slightly. "I don't know how to say this, but... I think we need to end our relationship."

The words hit you like a physical blow, knocking the breath right out of your lungs. You stare at Hanni, your eyes wide with disbelief and hurt. "What? Hanni, no, please... I thought we were..."

Hanni raises a hand, silencing you with a pained expression. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I never wanted it to come to this, but... my career is just taking over, and I can't give you the time and attention you deserve."

You reach across the table, your fingers trembling as you grasps Hanni's hand. "Please, Hanni, don't do this. I understand how demanding your schedule is, but we can make it work. I'm willing to be patient, to wait for you, to support you no matter what."

Hanni's eyes glisten with unshed tears as she gently extricates her hand from yours. "That's just it, Y/N. I can't ask you to put your life on hold for me. You deserve someone who can give you the time and affection you need, not someone who is constantly preoccupied with work."

The words feel like a knife to your heart, and you can't stop the tears from spilling down your cheeks. "But I love you, Hanni. I don't care about any of that, I just want to be with you."

Hanni nodded, her expression guarded. "I know," she replied, "But we've both changed. We're no longer like we were before." The moments that had once felt so effortless and joyful now slipped by in awkward, stilted exchanges.”It's not that simple, You. I wish it were, but the truth is, we've really just changed. The way we feel about each other, the way we connect - it's just not the same anymore."

"How can you say that, Hanni?" You whispered, their voice trembling. "How can you just give up on us like this?"

Hanni looked down, her guilt stopping her from answering your question. A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you remembered the depths of your affection for her. "Oh, I loved you for so long," you admitted, the words laced with a bittersweet nostalgia.

You shook your head, at a loss for words. "Things weren't like this before," you mused, your thoughts a turbulent whirlwind.

The silence stretched between the both of you, heavy and oppressive. You ached to reach out, to bridge the gap that had formed, but the fear of rejection once again held you back. Hanni, too, seemed lost, unsure of how to mend the rift that had grown.

"I'm calling you," you whispered, your voice laced with a desperate longing. "I'm wooing you, even if you can't hear it, even if you can't feel it." your words cut through the silence, a last-ditch effort to rekindle the flame that had once burned so brightly between you.

————————————————————

The room around you faded, and suddenly, you were transported to a different time, a memory of a happier, more carefree era.

The sun streamed in through the window, casting a warm glow over the cozy apartment you owned, which Hanni leisurely spends her free time sometimes. You were curled up on the sofa, Hanni’s head resting on her shoulder as she read aloud from a well-worn book, her voice resonating through the room.

Every so often, you would glance up at hier, your eyes sparkling with adoration. The way the light danced across your features, the gentle crinkle of her eyes as she smiled – it all filled your heart with a profound sense of contentment.

Reaching up, you traced the outline of her jaw, marveling at the way her skin felt beneath your fingertips. "I love you, Hanni," you murmured, your voice soft and melodic.

She looked down at you, her gaze overflowing with affection. "And I love you, You," she replied, leaning in to brush her lips against yours in a tender, lingering kiss.

Time seemed to slow to a standstill as you lost yourselves in the moment, the rest of the world fading away until it was just the two of you, basking in the glow of your love.

Afterwards, you snuggled closer, your fingers intertwined as you listened to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat. The air was filled with a comfortable silence, punctuated only by the occasional shared laugh or wyourpered confession.

It was in these quiet, intimate moments that you felt truly at home, your heart swelling with a profound sense of belonging. The demands of the outside world seemed to melt away, and all that mattered was the gentle warmth of Hanni's embrace and the unwavering connection you shared.

————————————————————

As the memory began to fade, you could almost feel the ghost of her touch, the lingering warmth of her kiss. A bittersweet ache filled your chest, a yearning for the pure, uncomplicated love you had once known.

And in that moment, you clung to the recollection of those happier times, a glimmer of hope that perhaps, with time and effort, you and Hanni could find your way back to that same level of intimacy and understanding.

The vivid memory of you and Hanni's past happiness only served to amplify the ache in your heart as you were pulled back to the present, the harsh reality of your current situation crashing down upon you.

You gazed at her, your eyes shimmering with tears, as the weight of all that you had lost threatened to overwhelm you. "Do you remember how it used to be, Hanni?" you asked, your voice trembling with emotion. "When everything was so simple, so effortless between us?"

Hanni's expression softened, a flicker of that bygone tenderness flickering in her eyes. "Of course I do, You," she murmured, "Those were the happiest days of my life."

Your eyes searched her face, desperate to find the woman you had fallen in love with all those years ago. "What happened to us, Hanni?"

She let out a shaky sigh, her gaze downcast. "I wish I knew," she admitted, while tears continued to stream down your cheeks. "Maybe it was the constant pressure of our lives, the way we got caught up in the whirlwind and lost sight of what really mattered."

You nodded, understanding dawning in your heart. "But we fought so hard to be together," you murmured, your voice tinged with a bittersweet nostalgia. "Didn't that mean anything?"

"It meant everything, Y/N," she replied, her voice thick with emotion. "Trust me, it really does, and it still does. But... I don't know if that's enough to fix what's been broken between us."

The finality in her words struck you like a physical blow, and you felt your heart shatter into a million pieces. "So, that's it then?" you asked, your voice trembling with a mixture of disbelief and devastation. "We're really over?"

"I'm so sorry, Y/N," she murmured, her voice hoarse with grief. "I never wanted things to end up like this."

You felt your world crumbling around her. You want to argue, to plead with her to reconsider, but you know it would be futile. Hanni has made up her mind, and nothing you say will change that.

With a heavy heart, You nod, your shoulders slumping in defeat. "I understand," you whisper, the words catching in your throat. "I'll always love you, Hanni. I hope you know that."

Hanni reaches across the table, giving your hand one last, lingering squeeze. "I love you too, Y/N. And I'll always treasure the time we had together. But this is for the best, for both of us."

As Hanni stands to leave, You watch her go, the weight of their shattered dreams hanging heavy in the air. You’re left alone, surrounded by the ghosts of their shared memories, your heart torn to pieces by the realization that the love of your life is slipping through your fingers.

You closed your eyes, your heart torn between the love you still harbored and the growing uncertainty that clouded your future. Staring at the window, your eyes subtly shifted down to the table beside, spotting a polaroid of Hanni that was taken by you. The photograph, that was previously a sentiment of undying love and fondness, was now a keepsake of a love that has faltered. A memory of what could’ve been. "Oh, I will love you for a long time," you murmured, the words a bittersweet promise that hung in the air, a testament to the bond you once shared.

#kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop gg #kpop imagines #kpop girls #newjeans fanfic #newjeans imagines #hanni pham #newjeans hanni #hanni x reader #hanni #nwjns

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ask-the-rag-dolly · 4 months

Note

hmm which Nero's day at Disneyland song do you think would fit this blog

congratulations you have unlocked my fifth evil fixation : nero's day at disneyland . now hold on as i drop an entire list on you

[ for anyone who hasn't heard of nero's day at disneyland , big warning for loud and harsh noises i don't recommend listening to the songs in full volume ]

shijurui burning - i think the calm beginning that goes to what could only be described as the feeling of impending doom turned into music really fits

no money down , low monthly payments - same as shijurui burning , except this one has a more circus-like feel to it

vengeance in cloudland - it's the pure mania and insanity in this thing . absolutely influence core

in keyed fantasy - take that impending doom except it has already happened and you could only witness everything go to shit . that's it that's the song

bent chorals - ' i want to go home , but i hate it there too ... '

stretched linen over contorted bodies - it just keeps switched from being calm and to ' Oh My God What's Happening ' every second

women are not things - see title

new rooms - literally just the backrooms theme song

clthonic husk - mental breakdown song

plumes of atm sinew - mental breakdown song 2.0

#[ ooc ]#tadc ragatha #[ doodles ]

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marbl3z · 6 months

Text

thats actually all I have for a title. Aventurine x afab! reader

Also, I love his voice so fucking much holy shit can I JUST SAY. I WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF A SMUT AND THIS SONG CAME ON AND PHONE SEX. ANYWAY

MDNI 18++++ LEAVE THIS NOW. THIS IS ACTUALLY THE SLUTTIEST THING IVE WRITTEN IN YEARS.

CW: petnames, VERY VERY DESCRIPTIVE PHONE SEX, LIKE. REALLY BAD, Mutual masturbation, moaning, voice kink, IMAGINATION, clit/cock terms, sexting/pictures/phone sex, literally as far as you can think.

"hey baby..." his voice was low and deep through the phone.

"hi love, what you doing awake? Isn't it late there?" You lay on your bed, fidgeting with your sheets.

"missed you so much, had you on my brain all day." You can hear a smile through his voice, you smile softly.

"mm, that's sweet. I'm sure those meetings were really boring.." you mumble, listening to his hum in response.

It wasn't often you two were together, he was always busy with IPC meetings and plans. When he was with you it was almost as if he never left.

"what have you been doing?" He asks, his voice going to a low whisper. You think back on the day on anything notable.

"hmm... nothing much, I did some work and cleaned around the place."

"that's good, 'm proud of you." Your cheeks burn from the praise, Everytime he gave you a compliment or praise it always made your heart flutter. "God, I miss you so much. I wish you were here with me."

"me too, maybe one day they'll let me tag along haha." A soft chuckle echos through his line.

"haha, maybe. I'll have to ask though- I'm sure I'll get no extra work done with you around..." aventurine purrs through the phone.

"yeah.. I'll take up all your time."

"..."

"Aventurine?" You check to see if the line disconnected but it seems to be fine. Suddenly you hear a soft groan.

"baby, I wish I could taste you right now..." your eyes widen as you realize what's happening. Your face turns completely red, his moans echo through the phone.

"are you..—"

"ah.. fuuck." He slides his hand over his aching bulge. The silk pajamas restraining him tightly. "Fuck, sorry.. I just— hearing your voice after so long. Drives me insane.."

You slide your hands down your own body, dipping past your waistband and touching yourself. A small gasp escapes your lips as you throb against your hand. "Ha.. Imagine how I feel, every little emphasis— every gasp of air you take. You make me crazy.." you mumble, eyes fluttering close as the pleasure washes over you.

"baby, can you do something for me?"

"mhm.."

"tell me what you're doing.. describe it to me.." he pleads, squeezing his cock and letting out a moan.

"ah.. 'm touching myself— rubbing my clit.. thinking about you touching me." You whimper.

"are you still wearing pajamas?" He whines, you hum. "Take them off, undress for me angel." You comply and slowly begin to undress the cold air of the room hitting your skin and makes a pleasant shiver go down your spine.

You hear a shuffle on the other end as you lay down on the soft bed, a sigh emits from Aventurine's mouth. "Can you tell me what you're thinking about?" You whisper, he groans before letting out a soft chuckle and a soft "mhm".

"thinking about rubbing that soft clit of yours in gentle circles, or maybe eating you out until you're a moaning mess. Stare into your eyes as I slowly push inside." He throws his head back as he strokes his cock slowly— teasing himself.

Your breathing increases, your fingers dip into your dripping cunt. You let out a moan as he whimpers into the phone, his voice shaking "go on baby, touch yourself while you think of me doing so many things to you."

Your body burns, you spread your legs further apart and slowly start pushing a finger inside, it's been so long since he's touched you. Your stomach erupts in butterflies as you think of his hands guiding you to your heat.

"you're so good for me, so perfect, so beautiful." He praises as you moan as you speed up. You put the phone on speaker as you rub your clit along with fingering yourself.

"ah- aventurine, fuck... I wish you were here. Oh... I wish you could touch me."

"oh fuuck." He whimpers as he speeds up, low groans and moans echo his hotel room as he drips precum all over his hand. "Wish I could fuck you so good right now, make soft love to you. Make you orgasm and cum all over me, all over my cock."

You left out a high pitched gasp, your walls tighten around your fingers as your back arches, a moan draws out of your throat.

"your noises are so fucking cute, so needy. Ah- I can only imagine how wet you are... can I have a picture please baby?"

You whimper as you grab your phone and flip the camera to face yourself, taking a picture of your fingers deep in your cunt, arousal dripping out. You send it to him and a few seconds past and you hear a loud groan.

"oh fuck.. look at you," he moans in between his words, his legs go weak as he looks at you touching yourself. "Fuck, baby- fuuck.." he moans, biting his lip and speeding up.

"i- I'm so close.." you whine through the moans, "oh fuck, baby- I'm so close." You moan into the pillow. "Aah.."

"I'm close too," his voice is shaking as he strokes himself in full strokes. "I'm thinking of stretching that pretty pussy out, going so slow for you, make you take all of me. Make you feel so full inside," you bite your lip, whimpering out bables.

"aventurine.." you moan out his name. He lets out a loud groan.

"say my name again, please baby- I'm so close"

"Aventurine..." You speed up even faster, rubbing your clit— the pleasure going to your head as you reach that high you've been craving. "Aventurine, oh– I'm gonna cum"

"cum for me baby, let yourself go, I'm right here." He whines, hips twitching as he reaches his high too, his cock pulses and twitches in his hand as he lets out a wobbly moan.

your back arches and your legs shake as your orgasm crashes against you so hard, you bite your lip to stop yourself from being too loud. You can only think about him, how he feels against your skin, how he would touch you— Him, Aventurine.

"I love you, I love you so much." He whispers, catching his breath.

"mm... I love you too, Aventurine," you hum sleepily, reaching over the nightstand and wiping cum off yourself. Hissing at the sensitivity, he laughs.

"I made such a mess." He sighs. "Thank you— for being so goddamn perfect..."

"thank you for having the sexiest bedroom voice" you tease, your heart swells in adoration as he lets out a breathy laugh.

UH I DONT WANNA WRITE ANYTHING ELSE SO HERE AHAHA

#female reader #Afab reader #hsr aventurine #Hsr smut #Smut #Phonesex #Aventurine smut #Hsr x you #aventurine x reader #honkai star rail smut #Spotify

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55sturn · 7 months

Text

✮ PETER LOSIN’ WENDY

pairings: chris sturniolo x fem!reader | chris sturniolo x named fem!oc

synopsis: in which chris doesn't realize that while pursuing another girl, he's losing the girl that would've been the one for him.

warnings: swearing, drunk!reader + drunk!chris, cheating, angst, angst, and even more angst, unresolved hurt.

THIRD PERSON POV

chris didn't realize he had made a mistake until it was far too late. he thought that amelia was the girl he wanted, but he soon realized that he couldn't have been more wrong.

he really, truly though that he would have enough will and time to choose between the two girls, however he didn't realize that as he chased them both, he was losing the girl that was the one for him.

VINTAGE TEE, BRAND NEW PHONE, HIGH HEELS ON COBBLESTONES

as y/n and chris made their way home from some random los angeles party, the couldn't help but giggle each time y/n's heels clicked against the cobblestone path they walked along. the two couldn't help their drunken giggles as they blindly made their way home.

"you should take those off before you hurt yourself." chris laughed, his hand intertwined with hers as he held his phone in the other.

"i'll be fine. you never told me where your shirt was from by the way."

"it's from some vintage thrift store back home in boston."

"i like it." she whispered, titling her head as she stared at him beneath the streetlight.

"let me take a picture of you, i don't have any on this phone yet." chris smiled, taking the picture as she blushed, watching as he set as his lockscreen.

BUT I KNEW YOU, DANCING IN YOUR LEVI'S, DRUNK UNDER A STREETLIGHT

the two continued their walk home, haphazardly walking into each other as they stumbled further down the path. their hands loosely intertwined with each other's, chris couldn't help pull her closer to him, his other hand falling to her waist as he softly rocked their bodies back and forth, humming a slow beat to a song playing quietly in his head.

"i like this side of you." she whispered, brushing his hair out of his eyes at he smiled down at her.

"not many get to know this side of me, but you do."

"i wanna know every side of you." she smiled back, watching as his eyes sparkled slightly.

y/n slowly walked ahead, unaware of chris' phone pinging in his pocket, another girl blowing up his messages wondering where he was as she missed him.

with a shameful sigh, he plucked his phone from the back pocket of his levi's, swiping away the notifications she sent his way.

HAND UNDER MY SWEATSHIRT, BABY KISS IT BETTER // SAID I WAS YOUR FAVOURITE

chris hand was beneath the back of y/n's sweater as she cried against his chest, her head hurting from the amount of stress she had dealt with during the day.

"baby, can you kiss it better?" she teased, trying to lighten her mood, making chris roll his eyes before pressing a gentle kiss to the girl's forehead, smiling against her skin as she keened into his touched.

walking backwards, he led her to her couch, falling back against the cushions, pulling her on top of him as he continued to rub her back, hoping to ease some of her stress.

"you're my favourite person, y'know that?" chris whispered as she laid her head on his chest, her fingers dancing along his bicep as they laid there.

"i am?"

"without a doubt."

CHASE TWO GIRLS, LOSE THE ONE

y/n hadn’t meant to pry and prod, but chris had grown distant lately, he was off around her and she was curious. so when his phone pinged while he was in the shower, she let her curiosity get the best of her. but she wished she hadn't as she read the notification that lit up his screen.

amelia

cmon chris, you know i'm the one you rly want

every time she re-read the girl's message, it chipped away at her heart. how could chris do this her? betrayed couldn't even begin to describe how she felt. as chris' screen faded to black, she heard the water shut and she couldn't be bothered to move. she didn't realize she was crying until chris was kneeling in front of her, gently wiping her tears.

"what's wrong y/n?"

"who's amelia?"

"wait what?" chris sputtered, her question sending shockwaves through this body as she stared at him, completely unsure of who was kneeling before her.

"who is she?"

"she's no one, baby i promise."

"tell me the truth, who is she, chris?"

"i met her the night we came home from that party and i've been seeing her occasionally since." he whispered, finding no use in lying to her as she sat there, her tears of sadness becoming tears of anger as she felt her hurt settle in her heart.

"get out."

"what?"

"get out. i'm done. we're done. i'm not going to sitting around while you chase some other girl."

BUT I KNEW YOU'D LINGER LIKE A TATTOO KISS // I KNEW YOU'D HAUNT ALL MY WHAT-IFS

for months following her breakup with chris, y/n had been a shell of who she used to be. she hadn't experienced the heartbreak he caused before in her life. it had left behind a different kind of hollow in her chest. a void that no one would fill.

no one except chris.

and for months, he lingered in her life. in the back of her mind as she walked down the streets they used to walk together. the ghost of his lips pressing against her temple every time she had a migraine. the feeling of his hand beneath her sweater, fingertips mindlessly drawing shapes the small of her back as she laid in bed. the smell of his cologne stubbornly sticking to her pillow cases on his side of the bed.

he was everywhere and she couldn't forget him. he was a ghost unable to move on as she felt swallowed and suffocated by her pain. she didn't know what to do and she couldn't take the after-shocks that his infidelity put her though.

he invaded every thought she had.

what if i'm not good enough?

what if was i enough for chris?

what if they cheat on me like chris did?

what if i can't move on?

what if chris is hurting too?

he was everywhere in her mind. he haunted every possible chance she had at moving past the pain she felt.

I KNEW YOU'D MISS ME ONCE THE THRILL EXPIRED, AND YOU'D BE STANDING IN MY FRONT PORCH LIGHT, I KNEW YOU'D COME BACK TO ME

y/n knew chris would come miss her once the thrill of being with amelia had faded. she wasn't someone chris could be with long time, from what she had been told by people knew her. she knew he'd come back, he made a promise that he'd find his way back to her as he walked out of her house that night.

but as she pulled into her driveway, she found him standing under her porch light, his hair sticking to his forehead as the rain fell against it. sighing, she got out of her car, the door slamming shut behind her as she stood there.

"chris."

"i miss you."

"no. you don't get to do this chris."

"listen please." he pleaded, watching as she looked up toward the sky for a moment, her eyes closed as her shoulders fell before looked back at him, nodding and crossing her arms.

"i know i fucked up. i made the wrong choice and put someone before you and i shouldn't have. i should've never gone for her. i had a good thing going and i completely fucked it up."

"chris you need to leave, please. i can't go through that kind of pain again."

"please give me one more chance. i'll do better."

"if i let myself forgive you, i won't be able to forgive myself. i will be subjecting myself to constantly worrying that i'll never be enough for you. i'll be walking on eggshells around you, scared to push you into the arms of another girl. i cannot put myself through that again. when i found out you cheated on me, it stripped me of everything i knew. i lost my sense of stability and sense of who i was. i became someone i didn't know, i was fucking destroyed chris. so no, i cannot let you back into my life because i would be betraying the promise i made myself."

"i'm so sorry y/n, i wish i could fix my mistakes but just know, that if i can ever be forgiven by you, i'll be waiting. i'll always wait for you and i'll always love you."

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#Spotify #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x oc #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo oneshot #chris sturniolo angst #christopher sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo x oc #christopher sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo oneshot #christopher sturniolo angst

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goodlucktai · 7 months

Text

gently in the cold dark earth

scum villain's self saving system word count: 2k canon divergent / no system au; sy transmigrates into an empty npc role; gray lotus binghe loves his shixiong more than life and he's ready to make it everyone's problem

title borrowed from work song by hozier

read on ao3

The first thing Luo Binghe does when he escapes the Abyss is return to Cang Qiong Mountain.

With Xin Mo secured to his back, the way could be instant if he so chose—the journey of a thousand miles reduced to a single step—but he unsheathes the elegant jian at his hip instead.

Yong Liang sings sweetly for him, the snow white blade still shining and untainted even after years of helping Luo Binghe carve his way through hell. It has never once failed him, soulbound to the one person still on this earth who has never failed him.

“Take it,” his shixiong insisted, low and urgent. The Abyss was behind them, an even deadlier threat was ahead, and Without A Cure clogging his meridians made Luo Binghe the best choice to wield the only unshattered spirit sword they had between them. “Binghe, take it.”

He pressed until Luo Binghe’s grip curled tight around the hilt, not hesitating to put his soul in Luo Binghe’s hands even with the rosy glow of an unsealed demon mark shining on his face.

Luo Binghe flies at a pace best described as dangerously reckless, hardly smelling the fragrant spring air or feeling the sun on his face. His robes are a disgrace, his hair a tangled, matted mess, and it occurs to him that he could stop somewhere and clean himself up, make himself presentable, but it’s a brief, fleeting thought.

Shen Yuan would be furious to find out that Luo Binghe wasted even a single second returning to his side.

——

He passes through the ancient wards effortlessly, feeling them fall away from him like water. It’s a simple thing to tamp down on his demonic qi, to disguise the parts of him that those so-called righteous cultivators would scorn. He ghosts through the familiar grounds as eagerly as a starving animal bolting down a fresh game trail, but one by one, all of their familiar haunts come up empty, without even a lingering trace of Shen Yuan’s spiritual energy left behind.

The head disciple’s room is dusted and undisturbed, as if its occupant might walk through the door at any moment, but the lack of clutter and the empty book shelf makes it very clear to Luo Binghe what the truth must be.

If Shen Yuan returned to the peak after the Conference, he didn’t stay.

All at once, images crowd the front of his mind—his shixiong grieving, pulling away, turning his back on those responsible for his heartache.

Yue Qingyuan, always only a step behind wherever his precious Xiu Ya sword went, promised that no one wanted to hurt them. They only wanted to help.

He looked so solemn and righteous that Shen Yuan reluctantly allowed himself to be convinced. Luo Binghe, who had gone to the man for help after a bloody whipping when he was a child, only to be given a walnut cake and turned away at the door, knew better.

He wasn’t surprised when Shen Yuan was wrenched away from him, and shizun sent him staggering off the cliff with a spiritual dagger buried to the hilt in his chest, all of it happening within a matter of seconds—but it still hurt.

Shen Yuan’s scream followed him all the way down.

I’m alive, Luo Binghe thinks, with no one there to tell it to. I came back to you. Let me come back to you.

——

Including time spent in the abyss, it’s three years before they meet again.

Luo Binghe’s revenge is his second priority at best, but he is nothing if not efficient and knows how to kill two birds with the same stone. Huan Hua affords him ample resources and opportunities to scour the world for his missing shixiong while playing the role of earnest and diligent new disciple. He snatches up each mission that comes along as though eager to prove his worth to the sect that so graciously took him in, but he takes every excuse to wander, to search, to make conversation with vendors and innkeepers and passing strangers.

Have you seen my heart? It lives outside of me in the form of a beautiful young man and tends to wander. Very contrary, likes to fuss over people, could argue the stripes off a lushu just for fun. You’d know it if you met it. You’d never forget.

The days blur together, meaningless and gray, but he doesn’t stop looking. Shen Yuan still exists somewhere in this world, because otherwise Luo Binghe wouldn’t. It’s the only thing that makes sense. The alternative doesn’t bear thinking about.

And then, finally—an afternoon in Jinlan City, when Luo Binghe arrives in a throng of incompetent gold-clad Huan Hua disciples, to investigate a plague of all things—

He’s there.

In dark, neutral colors and plain clothes, a traveling cloak with its hood resting down around his shoulders, as if his beauty could possibly be lessened by cheap, shapeless fabrics rather than effortlessly enhanced. His hair falls from its half-tail in glorious waves—he never did have the patience for anything elaborate, only wearing braids when one of his sticky shidimei cajoled and convinced him. Traveling alone, who could he possibly have to roll his eyes at and complain about and sit patiently still for?

A pale green ribbon is all that decorates his hair. Luo Binghe recognizes it instantly.

“You should spend your allowance on yourself, Binghe,” Shen Yuan scolded him, not for the first time and certainly not for the last.

“But I did,” Luo Binghe protested, widening his eyes and clasping his hands earnestly, the way he knew worked best. “I wanted it! And now that I have it, I want to give it to you.”

Shen Yuan was too clever by half to be truly fooled by the innocent act, but he always folded like paper anyway. He spoiled all of his shidimei but Luo Binghe most of all. Anyone on Qing Jing Peak would be hard-pressed to think of a single example of Shen Yuan telling Luo Binghe ‘no.’

Sure enough, after a second spent visibly wrestling with himself, he blurted, “Oh, fine! Hand it over.”

He wore it every day since. He’s wearing it now. The wind catches the ends of it, sending it streaming behind him like the tails of a paradise flycatcher. Lovely.

For a brief moment, Luo Binghe is frozen where he stands, finally faced with the very thing that he’s been missing for years, that he’s been living a miserable half-life without.

And then he remembers himself and lurches forward. His voice is a tangle in his throat but he manages to choke out, “Shixiong!”

A strike of lightning couldn’t have jolted Shen Yuan into more perfect stillness. He stops mid-step, every inch of him as good as carved from precious jade. He doesn’t turn his head, and the sliver of his face visible from where Luo Binghe stands is very pale.

Luo Binghe wonders suddenly if this has happened to him before—if Shen Yuan has heard a voice on the road or in the market that was almost familiar, that was almost the one he was hoping for, only to be disappointed when he turned to follow it and found a stranger.

Luo Binghe shortens the distance between them with a few anxious steps and tries again.

“Shixiong.”

The older boy whirls around abruptly, as if to get it over with. He’s bracing himself, but Luo Binghe barely has a second to absorb Shen Yuan’s painful-looking anticipation before it bleeds out of his face in favor of something else entirely.

He looks like the earth has fallen out from beneath his feet, like he hardly dares to believe his eyes. Zheng Yang gleams golden at Shen Yuan’s hip, reforged and whole again.

“Binghe?”

“It’s me,” Luo Binghe says softly.

There’s a tableau he’s afraid to break, as if they’re in a delicate dreamscape and a move too sudden or loud might dissolve it. He wants to say I’ve missed you the way lungs miss air, immediately and needfully, I haven’t breathed at all since we’ve been apart. He wants to say you’re my light in the dark, I can only stand in front of you now because I love you too much to ever truly leave you.

Instead, he tells his dearest friend, “This one made you wait. But your Binghe is here.”

Shen Yuan sprints the rest of the way to meet him, almost before he’s even finished talking, and they collide in a solid embrace that knocks the air from them both.

His arms wind around Luo Binghe’s waist like steel bands, fingers digging into the back of his robes, precious face pressed into the crook of his neck and shoulder. Luo Binghe doesn’t hesitate to gather him up close, holding him as tightly and securely as he knows how, burying his nose in his shixiong’s hair and breathing in the familiar, beloved smell of him.

Shen Yuan is a few inches shorter than he remembers. All the better to tuck him beneath Luo Binghe’s chin, to cover and surround him so completely that not even the heavens above can get a decent eyeful.

He wants to grab and bite and pin Shen Yuan beneath him and never let go. His jaw aches with wanting it.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Luo Binghe says, eyes wet. “I went home first.” Unsaid goes the obvious but you weren’t there.

“How could I stay?” Shen Yuan bites out, managing to sound all at once strangled and bewildered and—charmingly—offended. He shakes his head without lifting it, an aggressive nuzzle against Binghe’s shoulder. “After what they did to you, I’d rather die than represent their stupid sect another minute.”

“Step away from it, Shen Yuan,” shizun said coldly. “I’ll put that beast back where it belongs.”

“No,” shixiong said in a voice that was smaller than usual, one that shook. He was frightened, clearly overwhelmed, but he didn’t budge from where he was plastered in front of Luo Binghe like a breathing shield.

“Now.”

“No, shizun.”

“Shizhi,” Yue Qingyuan said gently, offering his hand. “Come here. It will be alright.”

Shen Yuan said, “No. You can’t hurt Binghe. He’s not bad just because of who his parents are. He’s as good as he was yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that. He’s hardworking and loyal and a sweetheart to anybody who gives him half a chance. He’s so good.”

Liu Qingge was behind the sect leader, sword drawn. Shen Qingqiu was quickly losing what little patience he had, face twisted into a sneer, dark eyes stabbing hatefully at Luo Binghe from over his head disciple’s shoulder. There were more figures rapidly drawing closer, the other peak lords following the flare of Yue Qingyuan’s qi. The standoff was becoming more and more untenable, and Shen Yuan was too smart not to see that, shrinking back against Luo Binghe as much as he could without crowding him closer to the edge.

“You can’t hurt him,” he said again, the closest Luo Binghe had ever heard him come to tears, “he’s my shidi.”

Luo Binghe is unsurprised by his shixiong’s loyalty, because it’s already been proven to him over and over. It’s unremarkable at this point, which is an absolutely remarkable thing in itself. It makes him feel warm with gratitude and affection and ownership.

Shen Yuan is clever and quick on his feet and always three steps ahead, more knowledgeable about flora and fauna than anyone else Binghe has ever known combined, and probably a force to be reckoned with as a rogue cultivator, where the only rules of conduct he has to adhere to are his own.

But Luo Binghe hates to think of him on the road alone, without the little martial siblings who follow him like ducklings, without his Binghe there to make sure he remembers to eat all his meals and comb out his hair before bed. He’s a creature of comfort, made for airy rooms with too many cushions and an abundance of sweets and books to read.

Luo Binghe has fantasized more than once about building a home for Shen Yuan to lounge prettily in. It was, in fact, his favorite flavor of daydream since he was about thirteen.

If Shen Yuan wants to rogue cultivate, then that’s what they’ll do. But Luo Binghe thinks, if he constructs a palace that’s as comfortable as it is grand, and fills it with trashy romance novels and obscure beasts and his own hand-made meals, he can convince his friend to live in it with him.

Shen Yuan needs to be taken care of. Luo Binghe needs to be the one taking care of him. They’re together now and they’ll never be apart again and those needs can both be met.

That possessive, proprietary feeling coils dark and deep inside him, undulating lazily like a serpent who’s fed enough for days, reminding him over and over what he already knows:

Mine.

#scum villian self saving system #svsss #bingyuan #bingqiu #luo binghe #shen yuan #my writing #svsss fic #sy transmigrates into a blank role in a world where his favorite character exists #and he's supposed to - what ? NOT fulfill his personal fantasy of being lbh's best friend ?? ok 🙄#naturally binghe has been obsessed since the moment this pretty boy first smiled at him #bingbing i love you you deserve a good shixiong / future wife and i'm here to deliver #ALSO sy's sword name is (yǒng) meaning perpetual ; eternal ; forever #and 亮 (liàng) meaning bright ; clear ; to show ; to shine #in my mind's eye zheng yang is golden so yong liang's silvery white is the perfect compliment #YOU ARE NOT IMMUNE TO THE SUN & MOON SHIP DYNAMIC 🫵#heaven and hell were words to me

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