#I found this buried in one of my reblogs of an ask from last year

[jojo-schmo]

Silly Songs with Kirby

[pathologicalreid]

hysteria | s.r.

in which the BAU is called into a case in rural Appalachia when bodies start showing up in an abandoned insane asylum

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst (horror?) content warnings: hanging (staged suicide), enucleation, established relationship, ghosts, insane asylum, rope burn, premonition in dreams, death, pov switches, "the green ribbon", lobotomies, abduction, corporeal vs spirit form, CPR, hospitals, painkillers, first aid word count: 8.8k a/n: hey guys i am literally not one to beg for interaction but like if you could send an ask or gimme a reblog if you liked this it would probably make my day. this fic is just an excuse for me to tell ghost stories! and just like that, margotober is over. man, it sure would be a shame if i had something planned for november!

night one

“This is a joke, right?” You asked, eyeing the rest of the team as they observed the property before you. The dilapidated building that stood in front of you was previously completely abandoned, and now you weren’t entirely sure if the yellow police line was new or if the tattered plastic was a result of a crime of the past.

It looked like one of the haunted houses that Spencer would drag you to, one with a much too high budget that would leave you feeling like you needed to scrub cobwebs from your skin. You were waiting for the sheriff to make his way up the hill that the asylum was perched on, the BAU had made it up in SUVs, but the locals elected to hoof it.

Tugging the sleeves of your FBI jacket over your hands, you tapped your heel impatiently and observed the scenery. The fall foliage was in peak season, orange and red leaves fluttered in the wind, falling from the trees until they hit the ground. To the left was the town, small and hidden within a river valley, and to the right was a field of gravestones. Each life lost in the asylum whittled down to a number, hundreds of weathered rocks marked where a body was buried. Even after all of your years with the BAU, the sight still made you sick to your stomach.

The death count on this property had gone up by twelve recently, a group of college kids had found the first body hanging from the staircase, and it seemed like a semi-routine suicide until the local cops did a full sweep of the building and found eleven other bodies, each hanging in a different room.

It wasn’t until the medical examiner looked at them that they realized they were out of their depth, the oldest of the bodies had been dead before they were hung, which told you that hanging the bodies was the intention of the killer and he was beginning to perfect his M.O. Even more than that, the last two bodies had been enucleated post-mortem.

Being grateful for the method by which a person had their eyeballs destroyed wasn’t an emotion you felt frequently, and it was an odd thing to admit to yourself as you consciously blinked.

Over the curve of the hill, you watched as a couple of locals made their appearance, each of them equipped with a flashlight. The sun was beginning to set. Emily had made the executive decision that this case couldn’t wait until morning, so you took off in the middle of the day. Glancing over your shoulder, you found Spencer’s eyes and he gave you one of his patented half-smiles before you looked back at the foreboding building.

The structure had electrical issues, leading to lights flickering all over the crumbling brick walls. The flashes were starting to play tricks on your eyes because you would’ve sworn that you saw a woman in one of the windows, in a long white dress as she looked down at you and your team.

“You must be the BAU,” the sheriff greeted once he was close enough to your group, he waved before huffing impatiently. “Sheriff Shawn Greenbaum, this here is Deputy Conrad Perkins,” he introduced himself and the man with him. You studied them, trying to gauge information about them based on appearance alone.

Emily nodded, reaching her hand out for him to shake and introducing herself before making the rounds with the rest of the team. “Agents Simmons and Lewis are already at the station getting settled, but the rest of us are interested in getting in the building and taking a look around.”

Greenbaum placed both of his hands on his hips before clearing his throat, “That’s not a problem at all. We’ve got a lock up on those front doors to try and keep people out, we’re hoping it’ll put a halt on any more crime.”

Kicking mud off of your boot, you and JJ shared a dubious look. In your line of work, where there’s a will there’s a way—a padlock would do very little to help keep your killer out of the asylum. Even so, you all followed the sheriff as he produced a key from his belt, leading the way to the front doors. They were made of rotting wood. If someone really wanted to get past the lock, they could probably kick them in.

The smell hit you before you stepped foot inside the building, the stench of mildew wafting through the air made you crinkle your nose as you closely followed JJ into the building. A gentle touch to the small of your back told you that Spencer was behind you, each of you shuffling in single file behind the sheriff.

“The first body was found hanging over there,” the deputy, Perkins pointed straight ahead toward the winding staircase. You studied the peeling wallpaper and looked at the faded signs above the different hallways, barely able to make out the words tuberculosis and adolescent as you strolled through the main lobby.

Since they’d initially assumed it was a suicide, the body had been taken down, so even though you had twelve bodies to start your profile with, you didn’t have a fresh crime scene anywhere. In fact, you’d wager a guess and say there’s nothing fresh about this building.

Cringing as you walked over a pile of wet paper, you listened to Emily as she gave everyone jobs, “Reid and I will keep talking to the sheriff, Rossi and JJ, why don’t the two of you check out this wing here with the deputy, and Luke and Y/N can take the upstairs.”

You looked up and found Luke, following him to the staircase and ducking under the noose to go up the stairs, hesitant to use the handrail as you made your way to the second floor, knowing there was plenty of building for the two of you to explore. Pulling your flashlight from your belt for additional lighting, the sight in front of you was worse than what you had seen downstairs. “Watch your step,” you said absentmindedly, bypassing a bucket filled with what you sincerely hoped was water.

“When was this place built again?” Luke asked you, knowing you had done preliminary research with Spencer on the jet. He produced his own light, slipping his cell phone from his pocket and using the flashlight function.

You checked the ceiling, wondering where the beams were and if any bodies had been found in the hallways, “The 1860s,” you responded, keeping your voice soft so you didn’t disturb anything in the building—living or otherwise. You found yourself wanting to walk to the window you had seen that woman in earlier.

Alvez made a disgusted noise at something, and you refrained from looking back at it, knowing you likely didn’t want to know. “And what patients did they predominantly treat?”

Fiddling with the door handle, you nudged the door open with your knee, coughing at the puff of dust that met you on the other side. “They started with a little bit of everything. The elderly, children, adolescents, epileptics, TB patients,” you listed off. “We even found records of people accused of ‘excessive self-satisfaction,’” you continued, finding the window in question. The only thing you found was the same flickering sconce you had seen from the outside.

“Self-satisfaction?” Luke repeated the phrase curiously.

You tapped the sconce with the end of your flashlight, getting it to stop flickering before you clarified, “Masturbation.”

Expectedly, Luke chuckled lightly at your answer, “How exactly would one quantify excessive masturbation?”

Raising your eyebrows, you studied a strange mark on the cement floor, “I assure you; I have no clue.” You turned around, expecting to see Luke right in front of you. “Luke?” You called out his name, confused when you didn’t see him in your line of sight, you flashed your light around the room, wondering if he had found something. “Ah!” You yelped when a hand touched your shoulder, causing you to drop your flashlight.

Luke cackled from his place behind a bookshelf, “It’s gonna be a long case if you’re that tightly wound the entire time.”

You swatted at him with the sleeves of your jacket, “Asshole,” you muttered, taking the practical joke mostly in stride.

“Y/N?” Spencer called from the first floor. Your voice must have carried down the stairs, or they heard the flashlight fall to the ground.

Glaring at Luke, you shouted back, “I’m fine!” You crouched to pick up your flashlight, blowing dust off of it before you tightened your grip around it, “Grow up, Alvez.”

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah, so what did they do after they took in a little bit of everyone?”

You hummed, stepping back out into the hallway, and looking into what you assumed were offices—most of the patients would’ve lived on the first floor. “They started to focus on patients with mental disorders in the 1970s. Around the same time that medicine in psychiatry started to make advancements,” you kicked at a piece of cloth on the ground. “It closed down in the early nineties when people finally started acknowledging that things like lobotomies and electroshock are inhumane.”

Luke picked the next room, wiggling the doorknob before he used his shoulder to push the door open, “Woah.”

Stepping in behind him, you saw what he was looking at. Along the wall was a mural of sorts, a landscape that featured a caricature of the sun. Next to it, the words ‘let the sun shine in’ were scrawled in black paint.The colors were eerily vibrant for the age of the building, “Well that’s…” You let your voice trail off, looking at the size of the furniture in the room and ascertaining that it was likely designed as a treatment space for children.

“Do you hear that?” Luke asked, shining his flashlight around the room and looking for the source of the noise.

Fortunately, you weren’t that gullible, “Yeah, right.” You scoffed, turning back and seeing Spencer at the top of the staircase, “Hey,” you said, tilting your head to the side curiously.

He smiled at you softly, “Hey, it looks like it’s about to rain, so Emily’s having all of us head back to the precinct. We can look at the M.E. reports knowing what we know now about the crime scene.”

You nodded, looking into the room to find Luke, still shining his phone in every corner, “Luke, it’s probably just a rat or a tree branch tapping on the side of the building.”

Luke’s eyebrows were pinched together in concern, but he followed your footsteps into the hallway, falling to the back of the group as the three of you walked downstairs, meeting the rest of the team in front of the asylum.

“It’s kind of weird,” you said mostly to yourself, though you were entirely aware of the people who were surrounding you.

Spencer hummed curiously, making sure the sheriff wasn’t watching before he adjusted the collar of your jacket, “What’s weird?” He asked, mimicking the soft tone of your voice.

You looked back at the window where the light had started flickering again, “How all of these people were forced into the asylum by their loved ones, and now the word has an entirely different meaning.”

Holding your mug in both hands, you listened carefully to the crackling fire in the lobby of the hotel. Matt stood up from where he was sitting so that Spencer could sit next to you, and you absentmindedly slung your legs over his lap, thinking about the case. More specifically, you were thinking about the scene.

Spencer set a hand on your pajama-covered thigh, using his other hand to hold his book open as you listened to the other noises in the lobby. There was a storm going on outside, and a certain level of unease blanketed the team, leading to a convening in the hotel. Emily and Tara were going over case files, Matt and JJ were on the phone with their families, Rossi was playing Tetris on his phone, Luke was on the phone with someone, and you were just observing.

Eventually, Luke spoke up to everyone, “Hey guys, listen to this,” he said, holding his phone out and clicking the speakerphone button, “Okay, go ahead Garcia.”

Your eyebrows raised in amusement at the revelation that he was on the phone with Penelope, but you were still grateful to hear her voice coming through the speaker.

“I hope you’re all cozy by the fire because I have found a story about your crime scene that will chill you to your bones,” she prefaced, and you smiled slightly at her embellishments. “Catherine Pence was admitted to the Barnham Asylum for the Mentally Ill in 1978 at the age of 53. She lived a totally normal and insignificant life until she was 50 years old and her mother passed away, at which point, the people in Catherine’s life said she started to behave strangely.”

Snapping his book closed, Spencer set the novel in your lap before pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, “Strangely, how?”

Penelope cleared her throat, “I’m glad you asked, Dr. Reid. She was convinced that her mother was still with her. In fact, she would frequently be confused when other people told her that they couldn’t see her mom. Eventually, she started showing other concerning symptoms, so her husband brought her to Barnham.”

You frowned, sharing a glance with JJ, who had hung up the phone, “What kinds of other symptoms?”

“The file I got my hands on specifically cites paranoid thoughts, but that’s not even the spookiest part,” she continued. “When the doctors did their first examination of Catherine, they decided that whatever she was dealing with wouldn’t be amenable to any sort of treatment. She was a very calm patient who periodically had conversations with her dead mother and voiced paranoid thoughts, but they put her in Block D.”

Block D was the section of the hospital set aside for patients in need of around-the-clock care, which seemed a bit extreme for Catherine.

There was a clicking on Penelope’s end of the call before she resumed, “Anyway, Block D had sixteen rooms and there was always some form of supervision, usually a nurse. All of the doors were locked and there were bars on the window, so it was impossible to get anywhere without someone noticing, or so you would think.”

You settled further into the couch cushions, and Spencer instinctively squeezed your thigh.

“On December 1st, 1978, when the nurse went into Catherine’s room with her breakfast tray, she found the room in absolute tatters. I mean, the bedding was shredded, there was broken glass, everything was scattered around the room, and Catherine was missing.” Penelope said, emphasizing the last word.

Luke, who had previously seemed bored by the story, leaned forward, setting his elbows on his knees, “What happened to her?”

Penelope hummed, knowing she had sucked everyone into the story, “The search started immediately. You don’t just have someone escape an inescapable room and move on with your day. The windows, walls, and floor in Block D were completely intact and there was no sign of tampering with the door. No one could figure out how she got out, much less where she was.”

She didn’t wait for anyone to speak before she continued, “Catherine’s nurse said that she was unusually moody and had been for weeks. She completely stopped speaking and showed no reactions when people spoke to her and it was apparently very sudden, but that didn’t really provide any insight into where she could be. The staff searched the surrounding area thoroughly, but there were no leads. Eventually, they notified her relatives and the residents of the town in case she had somehow gotten out of the hospital.”

Then, on January 12th, 1979, a group of men that the asylum hired to do repair work on the second floor found that there was a door locked from the inside.” Garcia cleared her throat before resuming the story, “They also discovered an unpleasant smell emanating from the room, and when they finally got into the room, there was Catherine Pence.”

You wrinkled your nose in disgust, simply just imagining the smell of the room.

“Her clothes were removed and neatly folded next to her and her arms were crossed over her chest, one below the other,” Penelope continued. “Mysteriously, when her body was removed and taken to the morgue, there was a trace left on the concrete floor that corresponded exactly to the figure of Catherine. No matter how many times or what they’ve tried, they can’t get the mark out of the concrete.”

Your blood ran cold at the memory of the strange shape you’d seen in the asylum, “What?”

Penelope hummed, “The medical examiner considered hypothermia as a potential cause of death, but apparently that winter was unseasonably warm, so he settled on a heart attack.”

“Did they ever consider homicide?” Rossi asked, attempting to seem uninterested.

There was a chuckle on the other end of the call, “Yes, they did, but they never found anything else to support that theory. At that point, the room Catherine was found in hadn’t been opened since 1976 when it was used to contain patients with a contagious infectious disease. Since then, the room remained locked.” You could practically hear Penelope’s smile as she divulged the final detail, “Residents of the town say that, sometimes, you can hear cries for help coming from the building. There are even reports of Catherine’s ghost being seen in the window of the room where she died, she just stands there and stares out the window.”

Everyone sat around in silence for a moment before Luke grabbed the phone off of the coffee table, “Yeah, alright, thanks, Garcia.”

“Sleep well, my pretties,” she crooned through the phone before the call ended.

You felt heavy as if there had been a weight placed on your chest, and in an attempt to rectify it, you handed Spencer his book, “I’m headed to bed.”

He looked up at you curiously, eyes studying yours before he nodded, “Alright, I’ll be up in a little while,” he assured you.

Your body carried you to the hotel room, using the key to unlock the door and somehow making it to the bed even after your mind had completely turned itself off. You didn’t remember falling asleep, but you remembered waking up.

As you sat up in bed, you were having trouble holding your head up, finding that you couldn’t turn your neck to see if Spencer had made it to bed. More than that, the room was pitch black when the two of you usually leave the bathroom light on in hotels. Opening your mouth, no words came out.

Small puffs of air escaped your lips, but nothing else came out. You couldn’t move your hands to your neck—you couldn’t move at all. You wanted to call out for Spencer, and even though no sound came out of your mouth, you saw him before you.

Your eyes widened at his sudden appearance, suspiciously illuminated in the otherwise dark room.

Tantalizingly slowly, his hand reached out for you, touching the skin of your neck with his fingertips before pulling. It felt like he was pulling at a thread, and all you could do was watch as his hand came back with a piece of twine pinched between his fingers and your disembodied head fell to the floor.

You gasped for air, holding your hand to your chest and panting, unable to figure out how to get air into your lungs when you so desperately needed it. There were other hands on you, gently placed on your hip and upper back, the latter rubbing small circles as you choked on nothing but air.

“Hey,” Spencer whispered, continuing his ministrations on your back. “It’s okay, I’ve got you,” he comforted you, trying to get you to even out your breathing.

Carefully, his hand reached up to your neck, sweeping hair behind your shoulder, but as soon as you felt his hand on the side of your neck, you flinched away from him, nearly toppling off of the double bed.

He pulled you back as gently as he could, “Y/N,” he said, his voice stern this time as he turned to flick the lamp on. “What happened?”

You shook your head, appreciating how secure it felt to the rest of your body, before pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes. “It was just a nightmare,” you answered, the sound of your own voice felt disconnected from your body.

“You don’t usually call out my name in your nightmares,” Spencer observed softly, trying to get you to open up more to him, “And you’ve definitely never pulled away from me like that.”

He was right, you had your general recurring nightmares—mostly work related—but you’ve never had anything like this before. You didn’t know how to explain it to him, because how would you explain to your rational, genius boyfriend that you thought you were seeing ghosts?

night two

You felt his eyes on you, Spencer’s big, brown eyes were boring right into yours as you looked at the foreboding structure in front of you. You weren’t even sure how long you’d been watching the stained-glass window, waiting for something to happen, waiting for the ghost to come back.

Sighing, you leaned back in the passenger seat of the car, thinking about the now-cold coffee that you had sitting in the cup holder and wondering if it would be worth the caffeine if it meant you had to pee in the woods at some point in the night.

“You should’ve stayed at the hotel tonight,” Spencer said, his eyes still focused on you.

You pursed your lips, watching the light flicker in the window, “We have a job to do.” That should’ve been enough for him, it had to be enough for you, knowing that at the end of the day, this was just a case and you’d be going home once you found whoever was doing this.

Finally turning his head, Spencer huffed in frustration as he faced the front door of the asylum. “I know you didn’t get back to sleep last night, so you have to be exhausted now,” he told you.

It was nearly midnight now, and you indeed hadn’t gone back to sleep after waking up at two in the morning, but you still agreed to a stakeout when Emily suggested it. Spencer called you out on it then, similarly to what he was doing now, and you were sure he had something to do with you being paired up together. If you ever found out he had voiced a concern about you to Emily, you were going to have issues.

The cool glow of the waning gibbous moon reflected off of the building, the effect only building the eerie feeling in your stomach, winding itself up like a ball of yarn.

With the morning came another body, and it became clear to Emily and the locals that the camera surveillance that had been set up along the perimeter wasn’t doing anything to bring you closer to closing the case. So, she had you and Spencer sitting in a car at the front entrance, each of you armed and on high alert, no matter what your boyfriend thought.

On the other side of the building, Luke and Tara were in another vehicle, keeping an eye on a back entrance that had the potential to be an access point for the UnSub.

Keeping an eye on your window, you squinted as if you could somehow summon Catherine Pence’s ghost. You wished you’d been paired up with Luke again, who at least had seen the mark on the floor, but instead, you had Spencer, who had meddled with your work out of concern for you.

You sighed, reminding yourself that he only did it out of concern for you, wondering how to approach the issue when an all-too-familiar figure appeared in that second-floor window, “Do you see that?” You blurted the question before you could even think about what you were saying.

Instinctively, Spencer placed a hand on his weapon while looking through the windshield of the car, “See what?”

You furrowed your brows, pointing as plainly as you possibly could to the second-floor window where you saw the woman, “On the second floor. Off to the right,” you said desperately, wanting him to see it, wanting him to believe you. “Don’t you see her?”

Spencer’s hand dropped as his gaze went from the building and back to you, “Honey.” You tried to ignore the emotion-filled tone that he gave you, flooding the pet name with an apt amount of concern.

Sitting back in the car seat, “Never mind, I didn’t—” you cut yourself off, “I just thought I saw something.” You tried to play it off, crossing your ankles one over the other and shifting in the seat, trying to keep your ass from going numb.

His eyes were still trained on you, and you tried to ignore him even as he locked the passenger door from the inside. The car remained absolutely silent until you heard a voice come in from the radio, “This is the Death Star calling for the Bat Mobile, over.”

You rolled your eyes at the sound of Luke’s voice, “Don’t call this car the Bat Mobile,” you told Spencer as he lifted the radio to his mouth.

“This is the Bat Mobile, we can hear you loud and clear Death Star, over,” Spencer responded, grinning at the way you groaned in response. The poltergeist of it all nearly forgotten for just a moment.

Placing your head in your hands in frustration as you waited for Luke’s response, Spencer reached over and smoothed your hair back, the gesture feeling oddly domestic for a stakeout. Maybe that was why Emily never paired the two of you together. “Yeah, we aren’t seeing anything out here, are you clear on your end?”

Spencer’s ministrations on your hair faltered for just a moment before he answered, “No, we haven’t seen anything.”

“Tara just got off the phone with Emily, they got the lab results back on those tools we found by the latest victim,” he informed you, “The blood on it was a match.”

You pressed your lips together in a thin line and shared a look with Spencer. Part of you was grateful to finally feel like you’d made some semblance of progress with the case, but the other part of you felt physically ill knowing that the latest victim had been enucleated using an orbitoclast. Her eyes and sockets were pulverized by a lobotomy pick, and it almost made you feel like you needed a word stronger than sadist.

“Did the medical examiner say the injuries matched the patterns of the other two enucleated victims?” Spencer asked into the radio, holding it close to his mouth as he spoke.

There was a pause before Luke responded, “Uh, kind of.”

You frowned, “What do you mean ‘kind of?’”

Another pause, “The M.E. concluded that the wound patterns are the same on the three latest victims, but the injuries on the most recent one were inflicted antemortem,” Luke explained.

Your eyes widened as the weight of Luke’s words joined the pit in your stomach, her eyes had been pulverized while she was still alive. The M.E.’s conclusion matched the one you had proposed when you saw the blood spatter this morning. You held your breath to stop a sound of disgust from escaping your lips, but you knew Spencer saw it on your face.

“Thanks for the update,” Spencer said, turning down the volume on the radio slightly before setting it on the dashboard.

Swallowing thickly, you placed both of your hands in your lap, studying them as if you’ve never seen them before, “Have you ever gotten the feeling that a case isn’t going to end well?”

You caught him while he was about to take a sip of his coffee, his movement paused for a moment before he took a swig anyway, setting the cup in the cup holder and nodding, “Yeah,” he answered, his voice raspy before he cleared his throat, “I have.”

Running your tongue over your molars, you raised your eyebrows at him in curiosity, “What usually happens?”

Spencer sighed, going back to facing the asylum before he held his hand out for you to take, you obliged, setting your intertwined fingers on the center console. “The case usually doesn’t end well,” he admitted.

“When are you going to tell me what your nightmare was about?” Spencer asked, squeezing your hand as he made conversation, trying to keep the two of you awake through the night.

Leaning your head back, you looked through the sunroof of the car, thrilled to see the sun beginning to rise over the tiny town. “I don’t think it really matters, it was just a bad dream,” you told him, clearly aware of why it mattered.

You even knew why it mattered to him. You’d never pushed him away like that before, but as soon as his hand had gone near your neck, you’d completely lost control of your body. “Look, I know I don’t believe in dream analysis—”

“Oh,” you scoffed, cutting him off. “Yes, you do,” you corrected him, “You do this all the time, you talk about dream analysis, and you claim that you don’t believe in it but then you actually get into it, and you admit that you just don’t like what Freud has to say about it. Then you’ll list everyone who has discredited him before you tell me ‘Jung still has his merits.’”

Spencer was quiet, and you immediately regretted your interjection.

Sighing, you wished you could melt into the passenger seat of the car, “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I don’t think that analyzing my dream right now will do any good, but I just… I’m sorry.”

He was still silent.

Chewing on the inside of your lip, you turned your body as best you could in the vehicle, “Do you believe in the afterlife?”

That got his attention. Spencer turned his head to you, concern etched into his face, “Why are you asking me this?”

You couldn’t tell him. You’d break his heart if you told him that throughout the duration of this case, you’d developed a pit in your stomach and started having dreams about dying. “In my dream, it was like… like I was paralyzed, and I couldn’t move my head. I couldn’t speak or anything and when I thought about calling for you, you appeared.” You sniffled slightly, “You reached out for my neck and your hand came back with a piece of twine, and then my head fell to the ground—completely detached from my body.”

The lack of judgment in his expression was what finally triggered the first tear to fall from your eye, but you didn’t wipe it away. Spencer moved his hand and deftly wiped at your tears with his fingertips, cupping your face in his hands, “You’re not going to die.”

“Spence,” you said, your voice strained by emotion.

He shook his head gently, “Nope, not as long as I’m around. You’re not going to die on this case.”

Your chest ached as your eyes studied his, “Okay.”

“But,” he continued, “I want you to take a step back on this one. No more volunteering for stakeouts, no wandering to the second floor of the asylum, and no listening to any more of Penelope’s ghost stories.”

Nodding, you silently agreed to his conditions, holding out your pinky and waiting for him to present his. Interlocking your small fingers, you each kissed your hands, and you took a deep breath. “What do you think we’re looking at, Spence? Is it another witch hunt?”

Names and faces of people like Leland Duncan and James Heathridge flashed in your memory, but if there was an overlap there, you haven’t seen it.

You didn’t feel like the BAU had a very good track record in Appalachia, Shane Wyland and the still unnamed ‘Mountain Man’ were proof enough of that, but you hoped that Wyland was long dead by now, and these crimes were too organized for the Mountain Man.

“I don’t know, baby,” Spencer admitted, and you knew that it hurt him to say that to you, especially now.

Looking out the window, your eyes caught on Luke and Tara as they made their way over to your car. Spencer unlocked the doors as you hurriedly wiped beneath your eyes, trying to hide any evidence of your upset before reconvening with the team.

Luke waggled his eyebrows at the two of you, “Good morning, how was your night?”

Groaning, you stretched out your neck, “Ultimately uneventful,” you told him, knowing that if anything of real interest had happened, Luke and Tara would’ve been the first people you notified.

“Prentiss asked us if we’d do a quick sweep of the inside before heading back to the precinct,” Tara said, jutting her chin in the direction of the building.

You and Spencer shared a look, but now that you were grouped within your team, you felt comfortable enough to slip your hand in his as the four of you approached the building. Squeezing his hand, your eyes flickered up to the second-story window, and seeing nothing, you stepped into the building.

The smell hit you. The strong tang of blood mixed with that of isopropyl alcohol burned at your nostrils as Tara swore at the sight in front of all of you. A body hanging from the stairwell, eyes completely destroyed, and while the body was covered in blood, the floor was completely void of any red.

“She’s cleaning up,” you observed, stepping closer to Spencer and looking at the streak marks that a rag had made on the floor.

Luke raised his eyebrows, “She?” He asked, confused about the sudden change in pronouns while Tara immediately went to call Emily.

Spencer nodded, agreeing with you as the three of you watched the body turn in the glow of the sunrise, “A man wouldn’t care about the mess he’s leaving behind.”

This revelation left you more confused than anything, you had no idea how anyone could lift that much dead weight, night after night. “Oh,” you breathed, blood draining from your face as you looked up at Spencer and Luke. “We were watching the building all night,” you reminded them. “We never saw anyone enter, but we never saw them leave.”

night three

“Alright,” Emily started, fully equipped in her Kevlar, she looked around the entryway of the asylum, “Rossi and Tara will keep an eye out front in case anyone tries to make a run for it. Reid and JJ will take the tunnels beneath the west wing, Simmons and I will take the east wing, Alvez and Sheriff Greenbaum will head north, and Y/N and Deputy Perkins will stay here in the foyer in case anyone calls for backup.”

In the dark building, Spencer gave your hand a squeeze before everyone turned on their flashlights. “Let’s end this,” Rossi said, earning a hum of agreement as everyone split off into their respective directions.

You wished Emily had done you the kindness of letting you be paired with Spencer again, but twice in the span of a single case was seemingly too much to ask for. “You ever seen something like this?” Deputy Perkins asked you, shuffling his feet across the floor.

Shaking your head, your eyes focused on where the newest body had been found that morning. The body was cleared out and the cause of death was blunt force trauma, but once the realization that the killer had been in the building the entire time settled in, the team got to work on figuring out some of the logistics.

That was when the sheriff brought up the possibility of the killer using a long-abandoned tunnel system. The town had assumed they caved in years ago, but a bit of sleuthing had revealed that there were still a select number of tunnels for her to use.

As long as I stay in the foyer, you reminded yourself, no wandering.

The stench of isopropyl alcohol still floated through the air; it had likely sept into the porous flooring that had been underneath the body. You made note of the flickering lights in the surrounding area, making sure not to get any of them mixed up as you rested a hand on your firearm.

“Did you hear that?” Deputy Perkins asked you, looking up the stairs and shining his flashlight on them, trying to see if he could find anything in the eerie abyss of darkness.

Swallowing thickly, you shook your head in response, “No,” you told him, looking to the left and right of you, wondering if one of the pairs that had been sent off was returning. You hadn’t heard anything coming from the upstairs.

He hummed, taking a step closer to the staircase and setting off alarm bells in your head, “I’m sure I heard a shuffling coming from upstairs.” The pit in your stomach reformed as he planted a foot on the staircase and waved you over, “Come on, we should check it out.”

You hesitated, “We’re supposed to be here if someone needs backup,” you reminded him, nearly pleading with him not to abandon his post.

Perkins shrugged at you before taking another step. “I’m going to check it out, and there’s safety in numbers,” he countered before ascending the steps, making it to the first landing before your feet finally moved.

“Fuck,” you muttered as you followed him up the stairs, taking careful steps so that they didn’t creak beneath you. You reached the second-floor seconds after him, but you shone your flashlight around without any sign of him, beaming the light into the familiar room, “Deputy Perkins?”

You stepped into the room, placing a hand on your firearm as you tapped on the flickering sconce again and looked behind you. Your breathing hitched at the sight of the deputy in front of you, he was crumpled to the floor, his legs folded unnaturally, and there was a lobotomy pick that went straight through his head.

Next to him stood a woman, her clothes were tattered and stained with blood, and she came at you, shoving you to the ground and leaving your gun and flashlight scattered on the hardwood. The force of the impact knocked the wind out of you, and you got yourself out from under her while she frantically searched for a missing piece of the puzzle.

She’d used her pick to take out the deputy, leaving her with nothing to gouge your eyes out. You weren’t sure if you should feel grateful as you rolled over and grabbed the closest thing you could, wrapping your fingers around your flashlight and swinging it aimlessly against your attacker.

“No!” She screamed a high-pitched, blood-curdling sound rang out as you hit her on the side with your law enforcement issue flashlight. The object slipped out of your fingers as you sat up and tried to reorient yourself with your surroundings, you couldn’t see your gun, searching for it as she flung your flashlight back at you, the edge of it catching on your forehead as you fell back.

The UnSub straddled your waist, keeping a firm hold on your throat as she held the pick to your eye, having pulled it from the deputy’s head so that she could complete her ritual, “Don’t,” you gasped, “Think—” your voice broke off as vomit rose in your throat. “Think of the mess,” you told her. “You used all the rubbing alcohol,” you reminded her, pleading with her not to take your eyes.

She was seething, very nearly foaming at the mouth above you as instead of stabbing you with the pick, she used the butt of it to crack against your skull. “You took my friends!” She raged, referring to the people that she had murdered, she was collecting them to keep her company.

“No,” you wheezed, shaking your head even through the blinding pain, “I set them free,” you challenged her, resigning yourself to an untimely demise and crying out when she sat you up.

You tried to claw at her, a weak attempt at saving your own life that received a laugh from the UnSub, an almost childlike giggle. “You can be my friend,” she offered, grabbing an already prepared rope from the floor and looping it around your neck before she slung it around an exposed beam, creating a makeshift rig and pulling on it.

Immediately, your hands flew to your neck, trying to stop the rope from suffocating you completely, and it worked for a little while before your feet lifted off of the ground.

After that, you were gone, left standing off to the side as you watched your body hang from the ceiling while the UnSub who would always remain an UnSub to you watched, cackling as she did so. She cackled up until the moment JJ put a bullet in her brain, the sudden death of your attacker leaving your body to drop to the hardwood floor, the hit softened by Spencer and Emily as they caught.

Tossing the rope to the side, Spencer laid you out on the floor and ducked his head to your chest, listening for breathing sounds. He was listening for anything, any sign of life at all.

There was nothing, so he put his hands on your corporeal form’s chest and started CPR, pushing down on your chest in steady motions.

You knelt down to him, watching tears fall from his face as JJ did her best to keep your airway open and Emily frantically radioed for an ambulance, continuously repeating that Y/N is down.

Assuming your hand would go right through him, you placed a hand on Spencer’s back, surprised to find that he was still solid to you. In a sort of daze, you watched him as he tried to save your life, repeating the same three words over and over again, “Come on, baby.” The mantra continued, tears falling onto your shirt.

You felt like you were on fire as if your body was physically burning while you watched life-saving measures be performed on yourself, “Oh, Spencer,” you whispered. “I’m so sorry,” you said to no one but yourself, knowing that he couldn’t hear you.

Looking to your side, you saw her again. The spirit form of Catherine Pence was watching you die in real-time, and you took a shuddering breath as she knelt next to you, expecting her to impart some sort of spiritual wisdom onto you.

Instead, she placed one of her ethereal hands on the back of your head and slammed both of your forms together. The entire world went dark after that, but you could still hear everything going on, searing pain ran through your entire body, from a throbbing in your ankle to an ache in your ribs to a pulsing in your head, but there was no more pressure on your chest.

“Is she…?” You heard JJ’s voice first, and as badly as you wanted to open your eyes, you just couldn’t gather the strength to do so.

There was heavy breathing and a soft weight on your shoulder, two fingers pressed into the pulse point on your wrist, “She’s breathing. She’s alive,” Spencer answered, out of breath. “Oh, my angel.”

A low groan was the only thing you could muster up.

Spencer shushed you, keeping his head on your shoulder and his fingers on your wrist, “It’s okay, don’t try to talk,” he cooed. “You’re going to be okay, the paramedics are here,” he lifted his head then. “I just want to stay with her.”

aftermath

It was far too bright for you, and the low keening sound that you expelled from your throat was the only way you could think to express that feeling. Whoever was in the room with you understood, turning the brightness down for you, earning a hum of approval from you.

“Hey,” Spencer whispered, his voice barely audible as he tried to keep his voice as low as possible.

The universe was taking pity on you, you knew it because you couldn’t feel any pain, which either meant you had finally kicked it or the hospital you were in had given you painkillers.

Your eyes felt like they were stuck together, the way that they get when you wake up from a perfect nap, and it took a surprising amount of energy to part your lips, expelling a deep breath out of your mouth. The action led to a pinching pain in your chest, causing your breathing to hitch, “Ow.”

“Sorry,” Spencer said, though you couldn’t imagine what he was apologizing for. “Can you open your eyes? How are you feeling?”

A grunt was all he received in response, the single noise begging him to slow down. Your eyes opened just slightly, looking at him through slivers as he smiled softly at you. His eyes were red and there was a box of Kleenex on the table next to him, accompanied by his phone and a cup of water.

He sighed in relief once he noticed that your eyes were opening, “Hey,” he repeated, “You look good,” he lied to you.

You rolled your eyes at him and his smile only grew, “Hi,” you croaked, your throat swollen and dry as you tried to reorient yourself. You were in a hospital, but the view outside of your window was of a city, not the tiny town that you had just been in.

Noticing your confusion, Spencer reached out to adjust your nasal cannula, “They transported you to a hospital in a city. The local hospital just didn’t have the capacity to treat you,” he explained. “I’ve been with you,” he reassured you, “The entire time.”

“I’m sorry,” you rasped, but he waved you off instantly.

Spencer grabbed the Styrofoam water cup from your bedside table and held it to you, bending the straw so that you could get some water.

Noting his silence, you tilted your head to the side, ignoring the way your brain felt like it had been scrambled, “Are you okay?”

He pursed his lips while setting the cup back down, “I just remember thinking about how I promised you that you weren’t going to die.”

The antiseptic air made you cringe, your body becoming more and more conscious as time went on, “I wandered,” you reminded him, making sure he knew that you broke your promise first.

“That wasn’t your idea,” Spencer challenged, knowing you well enough to say that without having experienced it himself. His fingers nimbly adjusted the blanket on your hospital bed, “You followed the deputy upstairs, it wasn’t your choice.”

In your current state, Spencer wouldn’t let you take any of the responsibility for what had happened in the asylum and even though you knew the answer, you asked him anyway, “Is she dead?”

Nodding softly, he took your hand in his, “She’s dead, and someday I’ll let you know her name and read the rest of the case, but today is not that day.” He skimmed his thumb over your knuckles, each of them cracked and bloodied from your fight with the UnSub.

You sighed in relief, a single tear receding into your hairline as you closed your eyes again, “How long have I been sleeping?” You asked, squinting over at your patient care whiteboard.

“Two days,” Spencer answered gently, dragging his fingers up and down your forearm, “You were tired, and your body had a lot of healing to do. It still does,” he added the last part, not wanting you to claim being healed. “Everyone’s still here, waiting for you to be discharged,” he continued, “I should message Emily, actually.”

“And Penelope,” you added, knowing she’d rather hear it directly from him than through Emily.

Spencer chuckled lightly, a sound that was as curative as any medicine you could be given, “I’m sure she’ll be waiting for us at the tarmac in Quantico.”

A small smile sprouted on your face, “She’ll be the one landing the plane,” you laughed slightly, interrupted by a fit of coughing. You placed a hand on your chest and winced, inhaling sharply before trying to breathe through the pain.

“What do you need?” He asked you carefully, setting his phone back down after sending his texts.

You shook your head, “Nothin’, just you.”

It was an action that would’ve previously earned a few stares from the team, and at least one wolf whistle from Luke, you and Spencer slipping into the galley together and closing the curtain behind you. Now it was simply the easiest place for you to get some semblance of privacy as Spencer snipped at the old bandaged around your neck.

Your hair was secured atop your head, keeping it out of the ointment as Spencer used his fingertips to carefully cover the rope burn that had been left around your neck. “Does it hurt?” He asked, eyes focused on his canvas while coating the hollow of your throat.

Shaking your head minutely, you closed your eyes, “No,” you told him, a slight rasp still peeking through your tone.

He hummed in response, giving you a small smile as he went back to the tube, putting more ointment on his fingers, “Liar.”

Opening your eyes again, you looked up at him as your face warmed, “Only a little bit,” you altered your answer. At this point, the worst part about the burn was that the nurses recommended keeping it covered, and Spencer was taking his job as caretaker very seriously.

He checked his phone for something before going back to his prior actions, “I think it’s getting better,” he observed, furrowing his brows as he wiped excess ointment from his fingers.

You took his word for it, having been avoiding looking in a mirror at all costs. Seeing the bruises all over your body was more than enough for you. You flinched when someone else slipped into your oasis, Emily shut the curtain behind her, holding out a pack of non-adhesive Telfa pads for Spencer to use on your neck.

“Hey,” you said nervously, wondering if she had another purpose or if she was simply bringing you some first-aid.

Emily smiled nervously; her eyes studied the marks on your throat as Spencer covered them. You expected her to speak, but she just watched in complete silence.

Raising your eyebrows, you looked from her to Spencer, and back to her again. “You should see the other guy,” you joked, earning the slightest smile from the both of them.

“I just wanted to let you know that however much time you decide to take off, it’s yours,” she offered to you, watching as Spencer unwrapped another packet of gauze.

You hummed, “I’m really alright, Em,” you assured her, more than comfortable with the automatic six weeks that you were granted by the bureau. It was the standard set for all agents unless there was an extenuating circumstance that prevented them from returning to work.

Emily’s nervous smile returned, “It wasn’t a suggestion,” she informed you, letting you know that she was more or less forcing you to take the extended time off.

Peering at your boyfriend, you frowned, “You put her up to this.”

Spencer shook his head, “I didn’t. Stop moving so much,” he urged you, trying to stretch the number of Telfa pads he had before he had the chance to go to a pharmacy.

“He didn’t,” Emily iterated, “But he could’ve, and I still wouldn’t tell you,” she added. “We’ll talk more—both of you. For now, I don’t want to see you around the BAU for a while.”

You sighed when she left the galley, Spencer finished his last placement before stepping back. “How do I look?” You asked him, keeping your question mostly rhetorical.

His smile was so gentle that it cracked at your resolve, “Good.”

Looking up at him doubtfully, you leaned against the counter, “You’re a really bad liar.”

“Hey,” he said, carefully wrapping his arms around you and letting you rest the unmarred side of your head on his chest, “You look alive, and that’s good enough for me.”

[little-diable]

Forever Mine – Harvey Specter (smut)

Y'all voted on reading my Harvey stuff, so here we go! I am so in love with this man, it's insane. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Harvey and the reader are best friends, but on the night when she asks him to pick her up from yet another horrible date, neither of them manages to hide their feelings any longer.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, jealousy, possessiveness, lots of feelings, friends to lovers

Pairing: Harvey Specter x fem!reader (2.4k words)

“Harvey?” Her voice rang in his ear, drawing his tired eyes towards the clock on his nightstand. It was far past midnight, and even though it wasn’t unusual for Harvey to be awake late into the night, it had been one of those nights where he had passed out the second he had found shelter in his bed, hours ago. 

“(Y/n)? What’s going on?” It took her a moment to reply, to let go of a sigh before finding her voice to answer her best friend’s question. 

“Could you pick me up from somewhere?” Harvey had already set into motion to put on his clothes with the phone balanced between his ear and shoulder. Heavy breaths left her, filled with a sadness that made his heart clench in his chest. 

“What happened, baby?” The nickname left him all too easily, even though it was something he hadn’t called his best friend in years. The sharp intake of air he heard urged him on to move even quicker to find his way out of his apartment.

“Do you remember the bar we went to last month with Mike?” Harvey gripped his car keys tighter, clenching them in his fist. A hum left him as he stepped out of the elevator, letting his shoes meet the cold ground while jogging towards his car. 

“I’m waiting there.” And without another word, (y/n) had ended the call. 

……

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, with her coat tightly wrapped around her frame, and her hands buried in the pockets of said coat. It had been a stupid idea, a fucking stupid idea, she shouldn’t have listened to her friends and how they had urged her to go on that date to finally get over her best friend – Harvey fucking Specter. 

It had been an awful date, nothing but a waste of her time, but deep down she had hoped it’d finally manage to take her mind off her best friend, the man (y/n) longed for with every rising of the sun. The man who’d never be hers. The man who looked at her with a love only family members shared, and nothing more. 

A cry wanted to break out of (y/n) at the familiar pain in her chest, squeezing her heart with its all too familiar grasp. Shaky breaths left her as she saw his car approach, needing to prepare herself for an uncomfortable conversation where Harvey would scold her for meeting up with a man like this, while being all too oblivious about her reasons for that date. 

“Thank you for picking me up.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek before properly sinking into the comfortable leather seat. Harvey’s hand found its rest on her knee, and with his thumb running over the exposed parts of her skin, due to her dress, he began driving. 

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” (Y/n) could tell that he was driving her back to his place, taking the all too familiar route she could probably walk blindfolded. Her heart was racing in her chest as it whispered to her, begging (y/n) to finally tell Harvey about the emotional chaos growing deep inside of her, while her mind forced her to stay quiet, to not risk a friendship she couldn’t live without. 

“Just a horrible date, nothing special.” The hand resting on her knee stopped moving, frozen to the spot as his eyes flickered to meet hers. For a moment, an uncomfortable silence began to fill the car, it clung to her like a second layer of skin, crawling up its limbs like a parasite. Dates had always been a struggling topic between the two, uncomfortable conversations they both tried to avoid. 

“Do I know the guy?” His voice was husky, growing lower with every further word he spoke. His fingers no longer stroked her skin, they had a tight grasp on her knee as if he was making sure she wouldn’t leave his side, not daring to let go as if he was scared to be alone.

“No, the girls introduced me to him.” Nothing but a hum left Harvey as a reply, letting the sound buzz through (y/n). Only as they arrived at his apartment complex to park the car did they find their voices again, sharing a small “Thank you” while Harvey helped her out of the car and led her to the elevator, with his hand placed on her lower back and his jacket wrapped around her frame. 

“Why do you always go on dates with these men? By now we both know your friends don’t have the best taste.” The question hung in the air, it forced a shudder down her spine while her heart slowly began to win the upper hand to silence her mind. Harvey was intently staring down at her, while keeping close to (y/n) with his hand moving from her lower back to her waist. 

“Don’t ask me this, please, Harvey.” Sadness dripped from her voice, followed by something he couldn’t pinpoint. But something inside of Harvey began to shift, it was whispering to him as if he could tell that whatever he’d force out of her, would change the outcome of this very night, a turning point neither could run from.

“You know I’m not one to back down, sweetheart.” Her tongue kissed her teeth while (y/n) pondered over her choices. She was grateful for the few seconds of silence they were offered as they stepped out of the elevator and entered the apartment she knew like the back of her hand. 

“Talk to me, (y/n), what’s going on?” Harvey was towering over her, even as she kicked off her heels and shrugged out of his jacket to expose the dress he loved seeing on her. His hands held onto her to guide her towards the couch, and even as they sat down next to one another, his hands held contact with her body. 

“Harvey, please, don’t make me do this.” She could tell that whatever he was waiting for her to say was different to what she was about to confess. Harvey was too oblivious, he wouldn’t ever pick up on the love she fostered for him, a secret that would turn their friendship into something (y/n) would curse herself for. Uneasy waters that would swallow them both without giving them a chance to swim. 

“It can’t be that bad, sweetheart. Is there something I don’t know? Did somebody hurt you?” Her glassy eyes got lost in his. She allowed herself to study her handsome best friend for a moment before slowly rising to her feet, desperately searching the now growing distance between the. If she was about to lay this on him, she needed some space, enough room to prepare herself to walk out of his door any moment now. 

Harvey’s jaw muscles ticked, he was growing impatient, angry even – about something he had awfully mixed up. He would burn down the earth for (y/n), would hurt anybody who dared to come too close to her. And yet he still didn't know that he was causing her this pain, a biting sensation that made bile rise in her throat.

“You wouldn’t get it, Harvey. Let it go.” Her eyes found the city below their feet, allowing her to study the numerous lights filling the darkness, the high buildings growing nearby and far away. It was a beautiful sight, a sight that tried to calm her aching heart, though without any luck. She heard Harvey move, could watch in the reflection of his big windows how he rose to his feet and walked up to her. 

“Talk to me, baby.” His muscular front was pressed against back, and for a moment (y/n) allowed herself to imagine being held by him like a lover would cling to their significant other. A thought that guided her next movements as she slowly turned in his grasp to stare up at her handsome best friend. 

With her breath hitched in her chest, (y/n) shifted her weight to press her lips against his. It was a quick kiss, a simple kiss, and yet it carried more meaning than any other kiss (y/n) had ever given. She felt him freeze at the touch, seemingly not expecting his best friend to cross that invisible line. 

“This is why I don’t want to talk about it with you, Harvey.” A tear dripped from her eye as the words rolled off her tongue. Harvey stared down at her with something so intense, (y/n) couldn’t help but peel herself out of his grasp, set on leaving his apartment and the man she had been in love with for years behind. 

“How dare you!” His angry words made her halt in her steps. Slowly, (y/n) turned back towards Harvey who wore an expression filled with hurt and anger. (Y/n) could only imagine how his opponents in court must feel whenever he directed his anger at them, forcing them to back down from any fight they couldn’t win – not against Harvey Specter.

“How dare you act as if I have no say in this. Have you ever wondered for just a second if I feel the same? If I was forced to carry the same heartbreak for years whenever you called me to pick you up from shitty dates with men who weren’t me?” Even though her heart began to race once again, begging (y/n) to realise what he had just confessed, her anger managed to guide her, letting her voice grow louder just like Harvey’s. 

“Then why didn’t you say something?” He stalked towards her, with eyes so fiery, (y/n) feared he’d burn her on the spot. Almost no space was left between them, with his chest pressed against hers to push her against the door, and his hand pressed to the spot next to her head. 

“Because I’d rather suffer from this heartbreak for years than risk losing you.” She got no time to reply as his lips came down on hers in a stormy kiss. (Y/n) instantly allowed her lips to move with his, letting their tongues tangle while her arms found their way around his neck. Moans rumbled through the both of them, sounds that rang in their ears like a song solemnly composed for this night only. Harvey’s hands found their way down her frame to pick her up without breaking the kiss, guiding them towards the kitchen where he placed her down on his kitchen island. 

“Promise I’ll take my time with you later, but fuck I need to be inside of you now.” Her excited chuckles left Harvey smirking as he shuffled her dress up to her waist, groaning at the sight of her drenched panties. She was mesmerised by the sight of Harvey lingering between her thighs, something (y/n) had only dared to dream of. 

“I bet your date thought he could have you like this tonight, spread out and ready to be fucked. But let me promise you something, sweetheart,” without breaking eye contact, Harvey ripped her panties apart to expose her aching heat to the colder temperatures now stroking her limbs. “No other man but me will ever get to see you like this again, from now on, you’re mine, you belong to me, and I will never share you.” 

“I only want to be yours, Harvey, like you will always be mine.” (Y/n) pulled him down for a kiss while he freed his cock from his dark trousers and reached for a condom. The seconds kept blurring by until Harvey finally pushed into her, letting his cock stretch her walls as his thumb circled her pulsing bundle.

Both moaned at the new sensation, having to adjust to something they had longed for all these years. With her back arched off the kitchen island, she let Harvey fuck her, letting their bodies meet with every thrust as if they were magnets finding together. A storm was rocking through them both, binding them together to forge another bond so strong, neither of them would ever be able to shake it off again.

Harvey’s name rolled off her tongue like a prayer, filling the apartment that would forever keep their deepest secrets. Both clung to the other as if they were scared that this was nothing but a dream, about to evaporate into a bitter nothingness as they’d be ripped from their sleep. 

Wandering hands kept searching the other’s closeness, clinging to the reminder that this was real, that this was not a trick of their brains but something they could forever cling to.

“I love you, fuck, I love you so goddamn much, (y/n).” Harvey’s moaned words left her heart somersaulting, forcing her upper body off the cold top of the kitchen island to meet his lips for a kiss. They were a tangled mess, and yet a mess so sweet, both were high on all the different sensations. 

“I love you too, Harvey.” Her walls fluttered around his cock as he met her swollen spot, pushing her closer to the edge. (Y/n) trembled beneath him, wordlessly begging his thumb to move faster, to circle her bundle with more pressure to push her closer towards her orgasm.

“Cum for me, baby, show me how pretty you look when you cum on my cock.” Harvey’s gritty voice gave her the needed push to cum beneath him. Her moans rang in his ears, filling every part of his body with an unfamiliar kind of pride he hadn't ever felt with another woman. His eyes didn’t stray from her pleasure-drunken features while fucking her through her high, a high he chased with ferocious thrusts.

Harvey came moments later with curses rumbling through him. She clung to him while his cock twitched inside of her, filling the condom with his release. Neither spoke a word as they stayed connected in the most intimate way, clinging to each other while the hazy fog of lust slowly began to lift. 

“Did this really just happen, Harvey?” Her whispered question left Harvey laughing. Slowly, he pulled out of her to toss away the condom before cupping (y/n)'s cheeks with his warm hands. His eyes studied her for a moment before pressing his forehead against hers to let go of a deep, relieved sigh. 

“It did, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you with me forever, sweetheart.”

[ninii-winchester]

But daddy, I love him

Pairing : Dean Winchester X Demon!Reader

Word count : 3.6k

Warnings : angst (if you squint), foul language.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

Dean was bored. No, he was beyond bored. There were no cases and Sam was, well, being Sam. He had his nose buried in some book and he refused to acknowledge Dean's situation. He kept throwing paper balls at Sam just to annoy him and he finally succeeded when Sam slammed his book shut and glared at his brother.

"What the hell is your problem.?" He snapped.

"Ah so nice of you to notice." Dean started sarcastically, "in case it wasn't obvious. I'm bored."

"If you're bored read some lore books." Sam suggested with a shrug.

"I want to kill my boredom not die myself." Dean rolled his eyes. Sam made a bitch face before answering,

"Go out to a bar or something." He got up from his chair and left the library. Dean perked up,

"Good idea Sammy. I'm heading out." He announced leaving the bunker.

He arrived at the nearest bar, settling on one of the barstools he ordered himself a drink. His eyes search the space, trying to find something or someone interesting, his eyes dropped a figure a few seats to his left. She looked familiar. He looked at her for a few seconds before it clicked, he'd hooked up with her years back.

Now normally he wouldn't be able to recognise anyone he hooked up with several years back, but he remembered her because she looked exactly the same. It had been years and she didn't change even a bit. And the fact that he thought about her quite often. More than he'd like to admit.

He couldn't help but think if she remembered him. He wouldn't know if he didn't ask. Besides he didn't have anything better to do so he approached her.

"Hey." Dean said sitting down beside her.

"Hi." She smiled looking at him. It was hard to decipher if she remembered him or was just being friendly. "I know you." She added making his release a breath.

"So you do remember." He smirked at her.

"Do you really think you're forgettable, Dean?" She questioned with a sly smile on her face. He laughed at her comment, shaking his head.

"I must say, you haven't aged a day since I've last seen you." Dean spoke gulping down his drink. "And it's been like what? Nine years?"

The two had met when Sam had left for Stanford and John had gone God knows where, and Dean was free to do whatever. He was hunting a werewolf. After he killed the creature, he found a bar and ended up her in bed. They spent three weeks together before John called Dean back.

"Nine years." She nodded. "But you haven't aged yourself." She replied glacing at him.

"No really, you're just exactly how I remember you." He said looking at her in amazement.

"Yeah? Above you or beneath you?" She whispered leaning closer to him. He wasn't expecting her to be this straight with him so it caught him a bit off guard.

Dean quickly collected himself and answered with a smirk. "Both."

"Good to know I'm not the only one who still thinks about it." She added and he nodded.

The two had spent weeks together but it wasn't just hooking up. Dean took her out on dates and she cooked for him sometimes. They cuddled, played games, talked about anything and everything, music, movies, dreams. Everything except their personal lives. And they had sex. It was as if they were together but without any labels, and when Dean left there were no hard feelings.

"So what brings you to Kansas?" Dean questioned, looking at her with curiosity.

"Ah you know me, i go where the wind takes me." She replied with a shrug.

"So you mean you're still wandering around?"

She nodded her head before speaking.

"And you're not?" She laughed.

"Nah I've got a place now. With my brother." Dean replied vaguely, not wanting to drag her into the mess called 'hunting life'.

"Cool." She bit her lip, she completely turned her body towards him. "Do you wanna get out of here? My motel is right infront of this place." She added seductively, her hand placed on his chest.

"With pleasure, sweetheart." Dean said helping her stand, he threw a few bills on the counter which were more than enough to cover both their drinks, he pulled her out of the bar.

The moment she entered the room her back was slammed against the door and his lips were attacking hers. She moaned in his mouth, his hands touching everywhere he could. He picked her up and dropped her on the bed. Clothes were ripped and thrown haphazardly. Their kiss was hungry and needy. For the next few hours the only sound that could be heard was of the slapping of his skin against hers, her moans and his groans and the filthy words he spoke that she loved so much.

"Fuck, I thought you were good back then but now you're just..." she trailed off panting, laying on top of him.

"You're one to say." Dean replied, his own breathing ragged. He dragged his fingers on her bare bare soothingly. "Missed this." He spoke after a minutes of silence. "Missed you."

"I did too." She said leaning up to peck his lips. "This is cozy." She added snuggling up to him. He wrapped his arms around her firmly. She laid her head on his chest when she noticed his tattoo. "Hey. I like your tattoo, what does it mean?" She said tracing it with her finger. He froze for a second.

"I don't know actually, I uh.. I saw it at the tattoo shop, and I just liked it." He lied through his teeth. She nodded laying her head back down.

The next morning, Dean woke up by the sound of his phone ringing. He groaned before answering his phone. It was Sam, asking where he was and that he needs to be back. Y/n felt Dean move beneath her and woke up.

"I have to go." He said sitting up, she pouted clutching the sheets to her chest as she watched him put his clothes back on.

"So soon?" Dean chuckled lightly before kissing her.

"We could do this again, for as long as you're here in Kansas." Dean said tying his shoes, sitting on the edge of the bed. She moved closer so she could hug him from behind.

"De." She said resting her head on his shoulder. He turned his head to look at her. She was quiet for a moment, she seemed lost in thought.

"What is it, sweetheart?"

"I meant it when I said I missed you." She mumbled against his shoulder. He tilted his head to look at her better. He gave her a confused look not getting where she was going with this. She unwrapped her arms from his torso and shifted to his side, and straddled his waist. He leaned back a bit so she could sit comfortably. He gripped her hips, holding her gaze. "Dean, those three weeks were the best days of my life. I never thought I'd ever meet you again. In my entire life no one has ever made me feel the way you do, can we.. could we try-" Her heart dropped the moment his grip loosened and he avoided eye contact. She whispered a quiet "oh" and quickly got off his lap.

"Y/n-"

"I get it, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable." She was embarrassed, she really thought he felt the same.

"You didn't. It's just... it's complicated." Dean said standing up from where he sat on the bed.

"Yeah, no.. I get it." She nodded not meeting his gaze. Before either of them could say anything else, Dean's phone rang again. He sighed before answering.

"Yes Sam, I'm on my way. Yeah." He spoke into the phone before hanging up. He gave her one last glance before walking out of the door.

It had been three days since Dean walked out of her motel room and she felt pretty shitty. She basically asked him out and he outright rejected her. She sat at the small table, nursing a glass of scotch when she heard a knock on the door. She opened the door expecting anyone but Dean, yet here he was.

"Not gonna invite me in, sweetheart?" He asked leaning against the doorframe.

"Find someone else to wet your dick." She rolled her eyes, closing the door but stopped it with his foot.

"C'mon don't be like that. I just want to talk." He said softly, prompting her to open the door wider. She walked back and he entered inside. "Look, I know I was a dick last time you saw me, but like I said it's complicated." She didn't speak or even acknowledge his words. "I would love nothing more than to be with you but it'd be hard." She raised her brow at him and he rubbed his face. "I'm gone, alot. I wouldn't be here everytime you need me. And you, you never stay at one place for a long time. I'm willingly to do this if you're okay with it."

"You really think I wouldn't stay, if you'd ask?" She said walking towards him. "Dean, the last time I felt something, felt alive was nine years ago. I was callous before and after you." She said honestly and her words couldn't have been anymore true. She was a demon. She hadn't felt, feelings for as long as she can remember. But with Dean, she felt everything there is.

"Let's do this." Dean leaned down kissing her softly. For the past three days all he did was think. He still wasn't sure what prompted him to give in to her, but it's time he started living for himself a bit.

Months passed, Y/n had gotten herself an apartment in Kansas, her and Dean had been going strong. They went out for drives, Dean stayed over sometimes, and had phenomenal sex whenver they could. Y/n had yet to visit his "place" since his brother doesn't know about them and she was fine with it. Part of her was relieved Dean couldn't stay longer. She didn't have to keep her "human charade" up.

Unbeknownst to them, both of them were hiding a significant secret from each other. But that was until,

"Princess, you can't go in there, his majesty is in an important meeting-" A measely demon tried to stop her from entering the chamber Crowley has his 'throne' in.

"Shut up before I disintegrate you into nothing." She sneered, her eyes turned completely black. She knew she wouldn't do but that demon didn't know that nor did he need to know. She pushed open the door, her father sitting on his so called throne while two men stood in front of him, their backs to her. She was too angry to recognise the silhouette of the body in front of her. "How many times do I have to tell you not-"

"Darlin' I'm a bit occupied at the moment." The man with the Scottish accent interrupted her. The two men turned around and her eyes widened.

"Dean, What're you doing here?" She questioned. His face seemed like he'd seen a ghost. He was shocked and confused. The other man, she assumed his brother, Sam raised his brows in confusion as well.

"Squirrel, you know my daughter?" Crowley questioned standing up.

"Your daughter?" Dean's jaw clenched as he looked back and forth between the shorter man and his daughter. She was flabbergasted and didn't know if she could get out of this situation. When she saw some demons following her, she confronted them, they revealed her father had sent them to keep an eye on her. The only reason she was here was to tell him to back off.

"You're on nickname basis with the King of Hell?" She joked looking at Dean. He glared at her and her grin dropped.

"What exactly is happening here?" Sam questioned feeling completely out of loop.

"That is exactly what I would like to know!" Crowley demanded looking at Dean and Y/n.

"What is happening is here, I just found out I've been sleeping with the Princess of Hell." Dean gritted his teeth. "You put her up to this, didn't you?" He glared at Crowley.

"She's my daughter, not some hooker. And why would I even do that? We're besties, aren't we?" He said as if they had been childhod buddies. "Wait a minute, you're sleeping with Dean Winchester?" Crowley looked at his daughter, disappointed. "He's a goddamn hunter."

"You say as if it's a bad thing." She mumbled "I didn't know he's a hunter." She shrugged. "I didn't even know his last name until now."

"You've seen him naked, you didn't see his anti possession tattoo?" Sam asked, clearing getting a kick out this situation. Dean glared at his brother.

"Well I asked him about it he said he didn't know what it was, the last time I choked a guy half to death because of that tattoo and turned out it was some nerd book thing, Supernatural or whatever." She countered throwing her hands in the air. Sam shook his head at the mention of the Supernatural books.

"How could you hide this from me?" Dean questioned the look of betrayal all over his face.

"Yeah sure, I could've just walked up to you and said, hey Dean I'm a demon." She rolled her eyes. "You didn't tell me you were a hunter either. Had I told you the truth you would've killed me."

"This is different." Dean replied.

"Alright Romeo Juliet. Whatever it is, this is done here. Y/n, I forbid you to see him." Crowley intervened.

"But Daddy I love him." She replied and the three men present in the room froze.

"I need a drink." Crowley said.

Dean looked at her wide eyed, still processing her words. A demon is in love with him, before knowing her real identity, Dean himself felt something for her but right now he wasn't so sure. Y/n bit her lip, looking at the green eyed hunter.

"We should talk." She said walking over to him. "Privately." She added loudly looking at her father. Crowley rolled his eyes before snapping his fingers, him and Sam disappearing from the room. Dean looked surprised Crowley didn't throw a fit when told to do something. "He loves me." She said as if she had read his mind.

Dean was silent for a moment and the everything came crashing into him at full speed, his supposed girlfriend is a demon, not just some demon but she's the daughter of the King of Hell. He's been sleeping with the Princess of Hell and apparently she's in love with him.

"What the fuck!" Dean exclaimed, extremely pissed.

"Dean, let me explain. I promise I won't lie about anything."

"You're a demon, demons lie all the time, you've been lying to me this whole time." He snapped at her.

"I didn't lie about anything, I just hid one fact. Besides you're the one who approached me at the bar, both times." She felt herself getting defensive. "I'm not like other demons you've met. I'm not evil. Hell I didn't even ask for this." She felt herself tear up.

"I don't even know who you are!" Dean exclaimed. "Who's body are you even wearing."

"It's mine." She replied.

"That's not possible, if you're Crowley's daughter you're atleast over two hundred years old how'd your body even..." he trailed off. "What do you mean you didn't even ask for this?"

"I'm the reason he's what he is." She started. "If you know him closely you'd know his relationship with his mother." Dean nodded urging her to continue, "so when I was born he swore he'd be the parent he never got. He gave me everything he could, loved me too much." Her voice cracked, "When I was fifteen, I was diagnosed with a terminal disease, and we're talking centuries back, I was gonna die. So my father, Fergus made a deal. My life for his soul. Ten year later they took him. He became a demon, kept an eye one me. He was happy that I was alive, When I was twenty seven I got into a fatal accident, I died. And he couldn't bear that so he transformed me with magic or shit I don’t know. He made me a demon. That way I would be with him forever."

Dean hadn't taken Crowley to be a man capable of love, he always thought of him as an evil son of a bitch who was the King of Hell and was there to cause trouble for him and his brother.

"He became the King of Hell because of me, just to give me everything I could ever need, he didn't realise by doing he kept me alive, but over the it made unhappy and lonely. I could never find love, I could never feel a thing. But nine years ago I met you, and I felt something, I don't how or why but I did, then you left." She whispered staring at him. "And then we met again, I thought I could finally get what I wanted, but I was naive to think it would work. I'm sorry Dean I never meant to hurt you, I just thought you're just a guy that I'll outlive and you'd never find the truth."

"This is a lot to take in." Dean said shaking his head. "I'm sorry about what happened to you." She nodded her head not knowing what else to say. "Is it true? What you said?" He asked cautiously.

"About loving you? Yes. I mean I don't know what love feels like, it's been a long time, but you do make me feel like I did when I was human. So yeah I do love you Dean. And I know you might not want anything to do with me after all this. But I'd do anything for you." She replied honestly. She'd been lonely for the past centuries, she's willing to do anything to feel something again.

"I did...uh" he cleared his throat before speaking, "I did feel something for you before this whole ficasso and I'd be lying if I said you being a demon changed it." Dean took a step towards her, "you said you're willing to do anything for this to work?" She nodded her head in affirmation, her eyes filled with hope. "We know how to cure a demon, make them human again."

"You do?" She asked looking surprised.

"Yeah, your father didn't tell you? We almost turned him human!" He chuckled.

"I told you I don't keep up with his evil shenanigans. If I did I'd have known all about you." Dean nodded in understanding.

"So do you-"

"Yes." She didn't even let him finish. "I'd do it."

"It might hurt." Dean warned "and what about your father?"

"Dean, I'm tired of being lonely for centuries. Yes I love my father but he has to let go someday. I can't live like this anymore."

To say Crowley threw a fit when he heard Y/n's decison was an understatement. He was beyond pissed. He went off on Dean, cursing at him, telling him he's always causing problems for him. It took Y/n a while to convince him but he came around when he realised this is where her true happines laid. Even if he was the King of Hell and Dean was his frenemy, he was still Y/n’s father and did gave Dean the 'you hurt her I'll kill you' talk.

The Winchester brothers took her to the Bunker and Sam prepared to cure her. They cuffed her to the chair in the dungeon inside the devil's trap. Sam had gone to bring the human blood, Dean kneeled infront of her. He cupped her face in his hands.

"It's gonna be okay. I'm right here."

"I trust you, Dean." She smiled at him. He placed kissed on her forehead when Sam came back.

Hours later, Y/n was screaming and groaning as they continued to inject her with human blood. Dean felt bad, wanting it to be over soon. When Sam was done, Y/n was sweaty and her head lolled to the side as she threaded on the edge of consciousness.

"Hey, sweetheart." Dean patted her cheek lightly. She slowly opened her eyes, her black eyes now y/e/c, full of life. She gave him a tired smile.

"Hiya, Dean."

Dean moved aside allowing Sam to pour holy water on her and she flinched at the sudden splash.

"Sorry, Y/n. It's Procedure." Sam apologised. She nodded lightly, she would've waved him off but her hands were tied. Her flesh didn't sizzle and the two brothers nodded at each other. She blinked a couple of time to adjust her eyes. Dean uncuffed her hands and helped her stand.

"Hi baby." Dean said holding her waist. She didn't waste anytime, pulling him for a kiss which he gladly returned.

"I didn't need to see that." Sam said loudly making them pull apart. "Congratulations Y/n, you're human now."

"Thank you for helping me, Sam." She told the taller man and he smiled at her.

"Thanking just him?" Dean complained.

"Well I thought I'd thank you some other way but if you just need the words...." Dean didn't let her finish before picking her up and making his way towards his bedroom.

Tags:

@deans-baby-momma @bansheesandbutterflies

[sourholland]

based off of taylor swift’s song style

a/n → well i bet some people didn’t expect this story to be updated again, however here i am and here it is. this is chapter 4. what mostly inspired me to try and finish this series is the continuous love i have received through it. there were a lot of people who told me how much they enjoy it and who am i to deny them. however i know that it’s been a year since i’ve updated this so if you want off of the taglist because of disinterest, please let me know!!! same goes for wanting to be on the taglist, just lmk 🩵

summary → he’s the quarterback of the cincinnati bengals, a worldwide heartthrob with an ego the size of lake erie—but does he have the heart to match it? you’re the bengals newest cheerleader, desperate to prove how much you deserve your spot on the team. it doesn’t take much to catch the eye of joe burrow, however that isn’t necessarily a good thing when you’re told that any romantic relations between cheerleaders and players is strictly prohibited.

warnings → strong language, nsfw content

word count → 3.4k

reblog and leave some comments if you enjoy!!!

SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter 4

“He’s fucking obsessed with you,” Sydney reasoned with you, listening to you finally debrief everything that had gone on between you and Joe over the last few weeks. “If you seriously start with all of this self-sabotage bullshit, I’m gonna kill you.”

Lena sat criss cross on the floor, silent and turning over the information you had given her carefully. Sydney was sitting on the couch beside you, knees pulled up to her chest as she spooned more ice cream into her mouth. It had been days since you slept over at Joe’s and besides a few text conversations and fleeting glances at the stadium, nothing more had happened between the two of you.

“She’s right,” Lena finally chimed in, her mass of curls held up in a claw clip she’d stolen from you during freshman year. “He’s obsessed.”

With a roll of your eyes, you turned over dramatically and buried your face into the throw pillow on your couch and screamed into it. If he was so obsessed, why hadn’t he called? Maybe because you completely overreacted after seeing one text on his phone like a psycho bitch, you thought to yourself begrudgingly. He probably thought you were crazy and territorial over guys you weren’t even with.

“I think I ruined it when I left the bar,” you sighed, considering screaming into the pillow again like a child.

“Oh my god, shut up. Men are so simple and literally do not care about stuff like that, I’m telling you. If he told you he let it go, he let it go. There’s no reason to overthink it,” Sydney assured you with a half-full mouth of chocolate ice cream. “Do you remember when I was fucking with Josh sophomore year and found out he was still hooking up with that one girl on the lacrosse team? Lily or whatever the fuck her name was–whatever, not the point–but do you remember when I deadass asked the front desk of our dorm building for a pair of scissors and walked a mile to where his car was parked and slashed three of his tires. Yeah, well he still hits me up. Men do not give a fuck.”

Lena had begun clutching her stomach in fits of laughter, rolling onto her back and shaking her head with tears prickling the corners of her eyes. You clapped a hand over your mouth, kicking Sydney and recalling how feral the three of you had been during your freshman and sophomore year. Moments like these made you wish the three of you were already living together again, as you had the prior three years. Well, Sydney shared a suite with you and Lena sophomore year and the three of you got an apartment junior year. After you told your parents that you planned to stay in Cincinnati after graduation, they knew you would need a place and gave you your graduation present early–a down payment on an apartment and your first month's rent. 

Cheering with the Bengals and substitute teaching on the side allowed you to save a little, but most of your money went towards bills. Lena and Sydney were planning to move in and split the cost three ways as soon as your prior lease was up. They had agreed to take on your portion of rent when you moved out of your previous apartment two months ago, knowing they wouldn’t have to put any money away for the down payment when they did move in with you. They still had about three weeks left until the lease was up, but you had all spent weeks packing up the other apartment slowly but surely. There were enough rooms for each of you to get your own, one was just significantly smaller than the other two. Lena had volunteered to take the space immediately, claiming she didn’t mind the lack of closet space or squeaky door.

Lena never had it in her to mind anything like that, she always just brushed it off and said it didn’t bother her one bit. She told you she was just excited to live with her two sisters, making you cry on the spot and tell her how much you appreciated her. Sydney would have taken the small room, she just wouldn’t have been happy about it and somehow both you and Lena knew she would find closet space one way or another. 

“I can’t wait for Joe Burrow to be sitting in my kitchen,” said Lena, letting Sydney spoon ice cream into her mouth now. “Or what about when you guys are fucking–”

“Lena!” You took the pillow you had been yelling into and pressed it into your flaming cheeks.

“Okay wait, answer honestly and don’t be modest. How big?” she swallowed, clasping her hands together in front of her, ready to inch them apart. “Tell me when to stop.”

“You’re both insufferable!” 

Lena, however, only continued to move her hands apart from each other with wide eyes when you still hadn’t said to stop. She hit the solid length, you nearly wheezed the word out with tears freely streaming down your face as all three of you clutched your abdomens in hysterics and girlish giggles.

“Do you need a third or what?” Sydney joked, already having pulled Joe’s Instagram up to stalk for the millionth time.

“Obviously,” you gave her a playful once over and winked, sending the three of you into fits of laughter again. 

⋆------------⋆

Practices leading up to the next preseason game against the Giants were brutal. Coaches were through with putting up with excuses and mistakes, leaving most of you on the team crying by the end of the night. When they wanted you to suffer, you suffered. Some of the senior girls who had been cheering with the team for a few years tried their best to ease the anxieties of the less-veteraned girls.

Everything hurt, all the time. Your back and legs mostly, but the soreness in your thighs and glutes made even warmups painful.

“Y/N!” Coach Traci’s voice bellowed. “What are you doing with your arms? How many times have I told you that if you can’t get this, I’m moving you back for our sideline dance sequences so you’re less visible?”

“Multiple times,” your voice came out as a little more than an embarrassed squeak. “I’m sorry, Coach.”

“Don’t be sorry, be better.”

You had to get your mind straight, shaking off the criticism and putting everything into the next time you ran the dance. Coach Traci nodded at you, the only acknowledgement of improvement that you would get for tonight. After the shitshow that was the Cardinals game, you knew better than to balk or disrespect anyone during practices. Everyone was strung out and tired, it was during a water break when you realized Joe was perched in his usual spot, headphones around his neck and running through some easy sprints. 

Good fucking god, had he heard your scolding? The thought brought you back to high school, the feeling of getting a question blatantly wrong in front of your crush or being reprimanded in front of the class for talking too loudly during a lesson. That same flutter of uneasiness left you feeling uncomfortable within your own skin, distracted again but pushing the thoughts aside in order not to repeat the whole embarrassing ordeal.

Joe was doing his absolute best job of casually sitting in on as many cheer practices as possible. The last thing he wanted was to cause trouble for either of you, but he would have been lying if he said he wasn’t using the fact that he is who he is to do his workouts wherever he wanted around the facility without a second glance from anyone. There were very few people meandering around, telling Joe what to do. With his injury, he was just now getting back into light conditioning and drill work so it wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to remain at the stadium to workout after practice had ended. He was watching from the sidelines most practices, occasionally being able to do a few workouts and passing the football around while everyone ran plays. 

He would take advantage of the opportunity to watch you while it was the most inconspicuous.

Practice unsurprisingly went late. Joe had disappeared back inside at some point, to finally go home you assumed. Once you were heaving and your body felt like pure jelly, you were finally allowed to go and grab your things and head in to shower. There were two text messages from Joe, delivered fifteen minutes prior.

Joe: Text me when you’re done

Joe: Actually do you wanna do what you gotta do and meet me in our locker room??

This boy is genuinely idiotic if he thinks you’re just waltzing into the team locker room, facility still far from emptied out. You ignored the messages until you got into your own locker room, sitting on a bench and shaking your head at his idea once again. Joe had absolutely nothing to lose here, that much was obvious from the start. You were a completely different story, though.

Y/N: Joe omg

Y/N: There are cameras everywhereeeeeeeee

Y/N: Can you just call me later?

Joe: No

Joe: Just go around the long way, don’t take the hall Emily’s office is on and come around from the other side. 

When you didn’t respond right away, he texted again.

Joe: The security camera isn’t facing the door, it’s facing who comes down that main hallway

Joe: I swear no one is gonna see you, the cameras will literally only get you taking a different hallway to walk out of the building and we can leave out of different doors

Y/N: You’re actually insane

Y/N: How do you even know what ways the camera faces???

Joe: I just walked out of the locker room and looked

Joe: I basically walked the whole thing, everyone went home 

Joe: Obviously not your team but yk what I mean, your coaches office is on the complete other side of the building 

Y/N: Go home, Joe :)

Joe: Please

Your thumbs hovered over the letters ‘N’ and ‘O’, but there was a part of you that couldn’t deny how excited the idea of seeing him again made you. The sneaking around had your gut twisting in a way that had all of your rational thoughts going right out the door. You’re pathetic, you told yourself as you glanced over your shoulder to make sure no one watched you type your next message.

Y/N: You need to see me so bad that you’re saying please?

Joe: Desperately

Y/N: Oh you’re good lmao

Joe: So I’ll see you in fifteen

Liking the message, you put your head in your hands for a moment and huffed a laugh as you finally turned on the shower and stripped yourself of the now sweaty practice clothes. Most of the girls showered at home after night practices, so only a few remained readying to leave. You took your time, double shampooing and ensuring as many people as possible had departed from the practice facility. 

“Good night, girl!” Carolina called out, walking out the door and leaving only you.

“Night, Carol!”

With shaky breaths, you brushed your wet hair once again and looked into the mirror. You had no makeup on and wore shorts and a Bengals hoodie now, which did nothing for your confidence as you walked out of the locker room with your bag in hand and cast your eyes downward. In your attempts to look unsuspicious, you took the long back hallway that wrapped around the inside of the stadium. There was the muffled sound of the janitors' speakers, but they were far from where you were and each office and support center looked desolate and left for the night.

The door to the players’ locker room was slightly ajar, leaving you to glance around again and double check Joe’s camera assessment. He was right, there was a camera on the end of the hallway, but it faced the opposite direction and caught whoever took the main entrance inside of this part of the building. Quickly, you slipped into the much nicer locker room and shut the door behind you. 

“That was twenty-five minutes,” Joe’s voice sounded from behind you.

“This is a stupid idea,” you cast him a playfully annoyed glance and locked the door behind you, turning to find him in shorts and a black T-shirt. “You’re a really bad influence, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told,” he walked towards you with such ease that you wouldn’t have believed he was just bed-ridden from surgery. His fingers found the hem of your hoodie, smirking down at you in his usual arrogantly charming manner. “I’m still glad you came, though. Even if I compromise your moral judgment so badly.”

He is so fucking hot, you thought as he continued fiddling with your sweatshirt. How is it possible to have this much sex appeal? How is it humanly possible for anyone to resist a look like his? Your entire body was on fire, swallowing hard and wondering once again how you wound up here with him.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he confessed. “I know I keep saying that and you’re probably sick of it. It’s true, though.”

The pads of his thumb and index finger brushed your bare torso, the circular motion leaving you breathing a bit heavier. His touch was less feverish than usual, more gentle and fleeting like he wanted you to know how much he wanted you. Hardly blinking, you let the tense silence guide you towards him in a way that left you practically flush against each other. Joe’s breathing hitched, giving you those sultry bedroom eyes and stupid smirk.

This time it was you who could no longer resist, kissing him softly as if to say that you, too, could not stop thinking of him. He slid his arms around your lower back, allowing you to wrap yours around his neck. Your back arched slightly at the long kiss, his right hand lowering to grab your ass and squeeze. He somehow maneuvered the two of you farther into the locker room between open-mouth, breathy kisses. Your back collided with the wall to the right of the sequence of open lockers, his mouth on your neck and biting gently at the skin of your collarbone. 

He pulled your hoodie off, throwing it somewhere behind him. Your fingers found his hair, tugging as he marked your chest up ravenously. A problem for later, you pushed the thought away and let your head roll to the side as he palmed both of your breasts through the fabric of your sports bra, occasionally leaving a hum of pleasure against the soft skin between your breasts. He kissed down your stomach and held you roughly by one hip, sinking to his knees looking up at you asking permission. 

“Did you know this was going to happen when you texted me?” You teased, still holding onto him by his hair. 

“When I texted you,” he started, letting out a breathy chuckle. “I prayed to god that this would happen, but I figured you were gonna tell me to fuck off.”

With a playful shove of his head, you looked away with blazing skin and blown pupils. Joe pulled down your shorts in one quick motion, running his hands down your hips and thighs with a lustful expression. He kissed you over the fabric of your underwear, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass. There was no denying the arousal dripping from you, wetting your panties, leaving Joe to raise an eyebrow and flash you an egotistical grin. A breathy moan escaped you and he stopped, causing a near-whimper to come from you.

“Quiet, baby,” he chided softly, “I need you to be quiet or we’re both fucked.”

The fact that he had called you baby was something to dissect tomorrow, you only inhaled sharply at his words. He looked up at you again with hair falling over his forehead, “can you be quiet for me?”

If he kept looking at you like that, you would do just about anything for him. You gave him a nod and he kneaded the flesh of your thigh now, finally pulling your underwear down and discarding them carelessly. He wrapped your right leg around his shoulder, on his knees before you.

“Can’t say that I’m complaining at this sight, right where you belong,” you whispered, cheekily.

“You’re hilarious,” he rolled his eyes and pinched your backside. “I’m on my knees for you anytime, just say the word.”

He didn’t give you even a second to respond, tonguing you with such desperation that your toes curled the second he put his mouth on you. Your slick had already coated his mouth and chin, his tongue running between your folds as his nose brushed the bundle of nerves. You struggled to keep quiet, eyes squeezing shut as you rocked your hips into his mouth and relished in each breathy moan that escaped him and reverberated against your center. 

His thumb went to your clit, rubbing feverishly at the bud and watching you turn to putty in his hands. Your legs began to shake violently, wondering how much longer you could stand the tight coiling in your belly. One of your hands remained in his hair, the other gripped the hard wall for any semblance of steadying as he devoured you. 

He grunted against you, picking up his pace and letting his hands explore as you bit back each and every sound you wished to make. He steadied you as you came undone, panting and unable to move or see. Stars clouded your vision, black spots causing you to close your eyes and breathe for a moment as you regained feeling of your body again.

The handle of the door shook, someone was trying to get in.

“Fuck,” you whispered at Joe, who was already carefully dropping your leg and reaching back to grab your shorts and hoodie. 

You slid the shorts on, throwing the hoodie over your head and letting Joe silently lead you farther back into the locker room where the showers were. He gave you a look that said to sit tight and make no noise. He didn’t look nearly as nervous as you, legs still gelatin and causing you to have to lean back against the wall to ensure your balance.

“Anyone in there?” A man’s voice sounded, muffled slightly from the distance now between you and the door. 

“Yeah!” Joe called out as casually as possible, he sauntered over to the door and flicked the lock and opened it. A janitor stood before him, cart beside him to clean. “Hey, Phil. I stayed late tonight, I don’t know why I locked the door. Must’ve been a reflex.”

Phil nodded slowly, he looked into the locker room and saw it all emptied out. Joe rubbed the back of his neck, swallowing and waiting for the man to say something. Phil only coughed and averted his eyes when he saw the lilac underwear balled up on the floor. He met Joe’s eyes and muttered that he’d come back around once he left, but not to be more than ten more minutes. Joe gave him a gracious thanks and sighed in relief as the man retreated down the hallway and brought his cart into another room, shutting the door behind him and turning his radio up considerably louder than he’d ever heard him play it.

“You can come out now,” he said, turning around and seeing the panties on the ground. He had no clue if Phil had seen them, but he also had no doubt that Phil was no busybody or gossip at his ripe age of at least seventy. 

“Do I get to keep these?” He asked as you came out from the showers, holding them up and smirking.

“Did I or did I not say that this was a stupid idea?” 

“Is that a yes or a no?”

once again, let me know to be taken off of or added to the taglist

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[book-place]

Toddlers and Toys

Warnings: mentions of child abandonment, let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Crowley x daughter reader, Aziraphale x daughter reader

*not my gif*

Summary: It’s Christmas day, but you appear to be the only one in your household to care

A/N: Welcome to the bonus day of Book Places 12 Days of Christmas Celebration

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

“Daddy! Papa!” You cheered, little feet pattering loudly against the carpeted floor, “Wake up! Wake up! It’s Christmas!”

Crowley groaned, turning his face to bury it further in his pillow, “Shut her up, Angel.”

“You’re the one who wanted her,” His husband mumbled back, eyes not even opening as he responded, already drifting back off into a slumber.

“Well, I didn’t know that she planned on getting up at the crackass of dawn everyday.” He grumbled back.

You giggled at your fathers antics, hopping up onto their bed and jumping in between them, eyes dazzling with excitement as you shook the bed to try and stir them from their sleepy states.

“It’s Christmas!” You repeated.

“I heard you the first time.” Crowley grumbled, “Now go back to bed.”

“I don’t wanna-“ You were cut off by Aziraphale pulling you down gently and wrapping his arms around you, snuggling you to his chest in hopes of all three of you being able to go back to sleep.

Crowley and Aziraphale had found you, abandoned by the side of the road, about two years ago, when you were merely three years old.

Shockingly, Crowley had somehow been the one to find it in his heart to want to take you in right away, though it wasn’t as if it took much to convince his husband to feel the same.

“Papa!” You complained, trying to wiggle out of his grasp, “Help me, daddy!” You cried desperately, flailing your arms around to try and grab ahold of your other father.

After a couple of unsuccessful attempts to raise your parents from bed, you fell backwards with a huff, ignoring your papas content hum when you did so.

Finally, when their breathing had once again evened out, you were able to slide out of Aziraphales grasp and softly move off the bed before smirking in a way that was all too much like Crowley’s, and flipping on the bright lights.

Crowley automatically hissed dramatically as if the artificial light was blinding him as he brought the covers over his face. Aziraphale, on the other hand, slowly sat up and looked around in confusion.

You giggled at the two of them before spreading your arms and jumping up and down, “Come on, daddy! Come on, papa! It’s Christmas!”

Your light haired father released a sigh through his nose before throwing back the covers and getting out of bed when he realized that there was no arguing with you today.

“You too, daddy!” You called, walking over and taking his arm while trying to drag him out of the sheets.

“No,” He complained as he fell limply to the floor, “It’s too early, child.”

Aziraphale smiled softly at the two of you, walking over and scooping you up into his arms, “Come now, Crowley, it is Christmas after all.”

“Yes, yes,” He grumbled, slowly dragging himself off the rug, “I heard her the last fifty times.”

You giggled again, leaning over and planting a sloppy kiss on your fathers cheek.

He sighed, reaching out and ruffling your hair. He never could stay mad at you.

You tugged at Aziraphale’s shirt and whined a little, “Come on, papa, I wanna go downstairs.”

“Alright, alright, calm down, young one.” He chuckled slightly to himself and sent an amused glance towards Crowley, who just crossed his arms and grumbled under his breath a little.

Aziraphale used his free hand to grasp onto Crowley’s, and the three of you made your way downstairs.

As soon as you reached the foot of the steps, you audibly gasped as your eyes widened and little and your head snapped back and forth in wonder.

The entire first floor had been decorated to absolute perfection thanks your dads- and a little bit of miracles- the night before so that it would be ready by the time you woke up.

Christmas lights hung from the ceiling, trees were in every corner with ornaments and shining, bright stars proudly displayed on the top.

An excited squeal escaped your lips as you arrived in the living room, where the biggest tree in the house stood, a bit poorer decorated than the others because the husbands had let you do it a couple days prior.

And underneath, were mounds upon mounds of presents.

You bit your lip- though it did nothing to stop your ever growing smile- and bounced up and down slightly in anticipation.

“Well, Crowley,” Aziraphale said in mock wonderment, “Whatever shall we do with all these presents?”

Said man smirked a little as they both looked down at you, “Why, I don’t know, Aziraphale.” He teased, “If only we had someone to open all of them for us.”

You looked just about ready to burst by then.

“Oh my.” Aziraphel fake gasped as he looked down at you, “Do you think our daughter would possibly be interested in opening all of these gifts?”

You nodded your head vigorously in return.

“Hmm,” Your other father put a hand on his chin as if he were contemplating, “You know what, all right, you can open them, little one.”

You squealed again and pumped a fist in the air, hugging their legs tightly before diving into the wrapping paper and boxes.

On it went, with Crowley and Aziraphel lounged comfortably against a couch, and you ripping open the boxes full of toys, candies, and more that they had both gotten for you.

By the time you had finished, wrapping lay every which way, and you were curled up under the tree, surrounded by all your new things, sleeping steadily.

Crowley scoffed lightly at the sight of you, “And she thought she wasn’t tired.”

Aziraphel chuckled as he looked at you with fondness, “I think she rather enjoyed herself.”

“Indeed,” He lolled his head to face his husband against the back of the couch, “Merry Christmas, Angel.”

“Merry Christmas, Crowley.” He said back, taking his husbands hand with a smile.

Ineffable Husbands 😇- none yet

[cxrdycxps]

Checkmate • Joel Miller

☢️ we got some canon typical violence babyyy • karma doing her thing except karma is the reader • swearing • sexual assault (past but not just reader) • little men get their feelings hurt • Tommy and Joel redemption arc • nothing explicit but we got some sexy words • return of soft Joel☢️

Main Masterlist • Joel Miller Masterlist • Cat and Mouse Masterlist

This is part three of Cat and Mouse. I hope you all are as ready as I am for the big finale (if it sucks don’t tell me) thank you for all the reading, commenting and reblogging 🧡

You were sat in your rocking chair when you got your first visitor of the morning. You didn’t look up when your gate slammed open but the distinct sound of loading and cocking your shotgun made the footsteps pause in place.

Abdul was breathing heavy, his hands clenched into fists. You raised an eyebrow at him, still rocking slowly. The shotgun was pointed at him but he took another step forward. You stopped rocking. “We had an agreement.”

“That you broke.” You reminded him. You weren’t quite sure why the men you had slept with thought you would just forget their plights. The horrible things they had done. “You ran your mouth so I ran mine.”

“I didn’t fucking say anything to anyone!” Abdul spat at you and you leaned forward in your chair, steadying yourself and the shotgun when he took another step. He retreated slowly and you leaned back again. “You never had a problem with me talking to the other men before.”

“I never had to hear it back before. You took a risk. Silly. I know if I had a secret like yours then I wouldn’t have risked my place in Jackson.” You winced and he stalked forward again. Before he could reach your porch you were on your feet, gun aimed. He paused again. “Get off my fucking property and start packing. Cause I know ain’t no one gonna take too kindly to you for being the reason Jack never came back from patrol.”

“They’ll kill me, you know? He’s got two brothers and they’ll kill me.” Abdul told you and you smiled. “You’re a sick fucking bitch.”

“I didn’t murder anyone who wasn’t trying to murder me first.” You shrugged, pulling a face. Abdul was pulling at his hair now, staring you down. “You should also know I had to tell them about Aidan’s involvement. So he’ll probably kill you too.”

“I’m gonna fuckin-” A warning shot stopped him in his tracks and you were loading and racking the shot gun again in seconds, staring him down.

“You’ve done enough. Get off my property.”

///

You sat on your porch all day, rocking slowly in your chair. You had many visitors call by, not all of them as hostile. You hadn’t shared anything from the men who hadn’t deserved it. No one needed to know Luca had some weird kinks or that Nick had accidentally set the barn alight last year while smoking in there.

Neither of those things were bad, just frowned upon in general and enough to embarrass them. But the others, you were done keeping secrets that were harmful for the others. You weren’t letting them keep their good reputation while dragging yours through the dirt.

Jack’s brothers called by to confirm your rumors. You had told them everything you knew and apologized for not telling them sooner. They were mad, understandably so but they thanked you for telling them and not letting them wonder forever.

Abdul, Aidan and Jack had been patrolling together in the nearest town. There had been a fight, something petty and Abdul had knocked Jack’s head. He’d died on impact but of course they couldn’t leave his body there to be found. Aidan had helped bury Jack and together they concocted the lie of a group of runners taking Jack out.

“You got the whole town on fire.” Tommy Miller stood at your gate but he didn’t dare open it. You appreciated that much, your shotgun resting on your lap. You stared at him, waiting for the verdict. “Can I come in?”

“You gonna kick me out of Jackson?” You asked and he shook his head. “Then come in.”

Tommy pushed in the gate and made his way up onto your porch. He took a seat on your bench and wiped a hand over his face. You watched him for a second and noticed the exhaustion on his face. His knuckles had been split and scabbed on his right hand.

“I didn’t have anything to tell when it came to you.” You felt the need to defend yourself to a man who had no problem discussing you with half the town.

“Maybe you should.” He sat back and stretched his arms out along the length of your bench. You blinked at him, unsure if that was supposed to sound like a threat or the Miller men were terrible at voicing things. “You probably know Joel and I, we used to be raiders.”

“Everyone knows that.” You agreed and he nodded his head slowly, releasing a sigh. “We’ve all done things we regret before Jackson. Before we knew there was a version of civilization left.”

“Yeah. We never hurt kids and we only killed women who tried to kill us or who wouldn’t walk away.” Tommy explained and you nodded, rocking yourself slowly. “Learned some pretty terrible skills during that time. If information was needed, the Miller brothers were guaranteed to get it.”

“No offense but this ain’t news, Tommy.” You reminded him and he nodded. He lowered his right arm, looking at his busted knuckles. “And I’m waiting for someone.”

“He won’t be coming.” Tommy sounded so definite. So sure of himself. You blinked at him and he flexed his busted hand. “You know I keep asking myself, what if it was Maria or my daughter or Ellie? And I shouldn’t be thinking like that. It shouldn’t have to be someone important to me personally for it to matter. And it doesn’t, I want you to know it doesn’t.”

“I don’t understand.” You sighed and Tommy nodded again, a distracted sort of movement like he wasn’t even aware he was doing it.

“When you came to town I heard some of what had happened to you. Women talk, you know? Maria had told me half a story about how you had been hurt.” You recoiled away from him and he nodded again. “Yeah, I ain’t proud of it. I knew some of that but I still let the men talk the way they did. I didn’t get all that involved until it was my brother. I didn’t want you taking revenge on him because I knew he would never do that to a woman. He didn’t deserve your ire.”

“I never wanted to-”

“It don’t matter. Even if you did. I should’ve kept my mouth shut, stirring the shit. I brought Joel out a week or so ago with Abdul and Nolan. Let them talk to him. I thought it would help him get over this little fling you had.” Tommy scoffed before sighing heavily. “I should’ve been in your corner. Not your opposition. I made a mistake. Nolan was a good friend of mine. I let him hold my daughter, you know? I ain’t afraid to admit I was sick last night when I heard. Physically sick. And if I felt like that then how the hell have you been feeling?”

“Was.” You repeated and Tommy tilted his head, the confusion plain to see on his face. “Nolan was a good friend of yours. That’s what you said, past tense.”

“Well he ain’t anyone’s anythin’ anymore.” Tommy promised you, his right hand splayed out for you to see. “You walked into the Tipsy Bison and you whispered your little stories last night. Just over an hour later Nolan left Jackson. He went home, he packed his things and he left. He didn’t get far.”

“Tommy, maybe you shouldn’t tell me.” You hesitated and Tommy laughed without humor. “I got a big mouth, you know?”

“I know and if you want to tell people there ain’t much I can do to stop you. But I talked enough about you to know that you deserve the upper hand here. If I get kicked outta Jackson for it then that’s on me.” Tommy admitted and you nodded slowly. “Well, Joel and I used those special skills of ours. We got him to tell us what he had done and then we left him so mangled that his own momma wouldn’t know him.”

You stopped rocking the chair, shotgun forgotten in your lap as you stared at Tommy, jaw dropped. “You killed him?”

“You think he deserved to live?” Tommy asked, eyebrow raised. “He was a threat to Jackson and he was a threat to you. I let it go on too long and I won’t lie that I did it to ease my own conscience a little bit. I don’t want you worrying about the creatures in the dark no more. I don’t want you hurting yourself to feel safe.”

You stared at Tommy in silence, absorbing his words. Nolan had obviously told Tommy everything, including what you had been getting out of the whole arrangement. You couldn’t help the tears that gathered on your waterline, sniffling pathetically. “Five years.”

Tommy didn’t speak, waiting for you to clear your throat. “I spent five years chained to that bed and most nights I wake up thinking I’m still there. I got aches in my shoulder that won’t ever go away. I could barely walk when Lou and I got out.”

Tommy winced and you inhaled shakily, sniffing again. “I don’t get nightmares when there’s someone there with me.”

“I’m sorry you had to go looking in the wrong places for that comfort.” Tommy sighed, clasping his hands together. “We shoulda been helping you since day one. You just seemed so put together from the moment you arrived.”

“I didn’t mean to be like this.” You wiped at your tears. “I wasn’t, not at first. I was happy to have escaped and Nolan was so sweet at first. I thought it was just my hang ups that made it so he needed to talk me into things. I didn’t have nightmares so it couldn’t have been bad, right? I guess he got sloppy, didn’t wait ‘til I was all the way asleep one night.”

Tommy winced, his knuckles on his left hand white with the pressure in his grip. His right hand bled again from his injuries. “I’d kill him again.”

“Joel wasn’t like them. It was so infuriating.” You told Tommy and he looked up from his hands. “I gave him every challenge. He just kept getting better each time I saw him. I put some distance between us because I knew I didn’t want him to tell me anything. Didn’t want that power over him. I wanted him in the way that I haven’t ever wanted anyone.”

“He’s a good guy. My brother. He ain’t perfect but he lives and dies for the people he loves. And I hear he got a little fan of yours on his hands. She once told me she’d cut my foot off and shove it up my own ass if she heard me talk bad about you again.” Tommy told you and you laughed wetly, wiping away the last of your tears.

“She’s a good kid. Scary but good.” You told Tommy who nodded in agreement. The pair of you stayed on the porch another while. You didn’t speak but together you watched the Sun begin to set.

“You won’t be getting no more visitors looking to wish you harm. It’s safe to go inside.” Tommy promised when the streetlights of Jackson flickered to life. “If anyone gives you any hassle you can come to me. I wasn’t in your corner before but right now I’m helping you outta the ring. Your fight is over.”

“Will you see him?” You asked Tommy when he stood, stretching his arms out. He looked out over your view of Jackson before answering you.

“Not before you do, I’d hazard a guess. I heard the little monster is chomping at the bit to get over here. Joel just managed to stall her into tomorrow morning.” Tommy laughed and you nodded, still rocking yourself slowly. “Abdul left along with Aidan sometime mid afternoon. About ten minutes later Jack’s brothers headed out to bring their brother home. There ain’t anyone here a threat to you anymore. Get some rest.”

///

You had slept the whole night through. It wasn’t until impatient knocking on your door sounded through the house that you woke up. One glance out your window found Ellie standing back with her hands on her hips, squinting up at your bedroom window.

You rolled your eyes and pulled on your robe, trying the belt tightly. You would’ve preferred a chance to get ready before being forced to endure company. When you opened your front door you found Ellie, almost tapping her toe in annoyance.

Just Ellie. No Joel. You couldn’t help being a little disappointed.

“I have a crush on you.” Ellie announced and pushed inside, heading for your sofa to drop against the cushions. “Reject me so I can move on with my life.”

“You’re a literal child. I’m an adult. Never going to happen.” You assured her and she sighed, clutching her heart. “Sorry, Kiddo.”

“I needed to hear it. I’ll never emotionally recover but it’s better it happened now.” Ellie sighed despondently and then laughed loudly, sitting up.

“Seriously. You’re fucking awesome. You gave those fuckers everything they deserved.” Ellie grinned, tossing her feet up onto your coffee table. You stared at them until she let them back down again. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You assured her before taking a seat on the armchair. “It’s public knowledge, huh?”

“What they did to you and Jack is. I don’t think everything else is. I heard Joel and Tommy talking last night.” She explained and you nodded, crossing your arms.

“He was supposed to come over this morning, later than this. But he got called to fill Abdul’s patrol shift.” Ellie explained and you nodded slowly. “Not even gonna pretend, huh? You got it bad for him.”

“Joel was different.” You explained and then blushed. This was a fourteen year old girl you were talking to.

“That’s why you pushed him away. What you meant when you said you wouldn’t punish him. You didn’t want to learn anything about him.” Ellie sighed as if all the puzzle pieces were clicking together. “But he thought it was all just a big game. Oh my god, why can adults never just talk?”

“Because where would the fun be?” You asked and she laughed, shaking her head. “I didn’t do much talking before this week. Think it’s time I start.”

“Once it ain’t any more secret telling. Think Jackson will fall apart.” Ellie sighed.

“I don’t have any more secrets to tell.” You shrugged and Ellie looked up at you almost shyly. “I would never betray you. You’ll tell people when you’re ready.”

“Joel doesn’t know.” She told you and you nodded. “We don’t talk about those things. He wouldn’t be mad. I just can’t walk right up to him and say it.”

“You can, actually. You can walk up, tell him you both have the same taste in women and then walk away again.” Ellie’s heavy mood fell apart and she laughed loudly. “I’d pay to see it.”

“Well it’s certainly an idea.” Ellie sighed and you grinned at her. “Now why don’t we make breakfast. I didn’t eat cause I wanted to get here sooner.”

///

Joel called round for Ellie when he got back from patrol. Like his brother he waited at the garden gate, calling attention to himself by clearing his throat.

“Why don’t you head on home. Let me and Joel have a chat.” You encouraged Ellie and she nodded, closing the book she had been reading and hopping up off the bench. “You can come on up.”

He watched Ellie pass him, barely nudging him with her arm and a hissed whisper you probably weren’t supposed to hear. “Don’t fuck this up.”

You chuckled at her and waved when she shut your garden gate behind her. She waved back and took off while Joel slowly climbed the porch steps.

“Think I owe you an apology.” Joel muttered quietly and you raised your eyebrows, waving your hand to the bench. “I know I owe you one.”

“Well it’s a good thing you called by today. Yesterday my visitors were greeted with the business end of my shotgun.” You told him as he took a seat. “I’m feeling a little more receptive today.”

“I took their word over yours. I was rude and I was just like every one of those assholes.” Joel listed and you nodded at him. You wouldn’t deny it to help his hurt feelings. “But you let me believe it.”

You drew up short and blinked at him. He looked up from his boots to meet your eye. He didn’t look away when you stared at him. “Excuse me?”

“I have a lot to apologise for. I’ll spend a long time tryin’ to make up for it all.” Joel promised. “But you were playing a game. At least in the beginning. How was I to know that changed?”

“You lied to me to get me to sleep with you.” You accused and he only shook his head. “You said it yourself. You would’ve promised anything.”

“Yeah, I would’ve. And I would’ve come through on those promises. I didn’t phrase it all that great but I meant it. I usually fuck a woman and head home. I don’t wait around for mornings.” Joel explained and you deflated. “You were the first one I wanted to wake up next to. I got scared. It’s been a while, we don’t know each other all that well.”

“Oh.”

Oh.

“So I reckon if you’d like to, we do it properly this time. We go out for dinner, we laugh and drink and I drop you off at your door and kiss your cheek goodnight. I get to know you first.” Joel spoke softly.

“What if you don’t like me once you get to know me?” You asked quietly and Joel breathed a laugh.

“I don’t think that’s possible, Sweetheart.”

///

“Now what sort of a date is the Tipsy Bison?” Joel asked with a laugh and you blinked at him. You hadn’t ventured out much in the last few days, scared of the reception that awaited you. No one treated you any different so far and you had remarked to Joel that you were hoping it would be the same in the bar.

“I mean, the only one?” You offered with a look. Jackson was a life saving town, a different world. But a commune didn’t exactly keep cute dates in mind when they were building amenities.

“If you’re unimaginative, maybe.” Joel sighed like the weight of the world was on his shoulder. “But me baby, I’m imaginative. So you wait right here, I’ll just be a second.”

He dipped inside and you looked around, wary of being on your own. You knew rationally there wasn’t anyone left to harm you. You hadn’t ever claimed to be rational though.

“Oh, I was hoping I’d see you.” Jackson was a couple hundred people big these days. You wouldn’t ever lie and say you knew everyone. You certainly didn’t know the woman that had appeared by your side. She was young, maybe her early twenties and she had big doe brown eyes. “I don’t usually come out of the shop often but I’ve been coming down every day to see if I could catch you.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t, I can’t seem to-” you struggled with your words, trying to find a phrasing that wouldn’t hurt the young woman’s feelings.

“No one knows me, not really. I’m the newer seamstress. I’ve only been here a couple months but I tend to stay in the shop. Still getting used to the crowds.” She explained with a shrug. “Jackson can be a lot when you grew up with the world outside.”

“It’s a lot even if you didn’t.” You assured her and she laughed, almost self conscious. You stared at her, eyebrows raised and hoped she’d get to her point.

“I uh, well I don’t know. I was dating Nolan. Maybe not dating? We didn’t go out much. Stayed in, that’s how he liked it.” She explained and you felt it, the plummet of your heart down into your stomach. You knew what was coming and something told you that you were going to cry.

“Please don’t. Please don’t tell me he hurt you.” You begged. Your knees threatened to give out and your hands went slick with sweat. You had waited, you had kept his secret and he had done it to someone else.

“I could never prove it. I never caught him. It would just hurt in the morning.” She explained, almost shyly. You stared at her, your eyes brimming with tears. “You made sure it stopped.”

“No I didn’t. I let it happen.” You whispered and she shook her head, her hands waving in front of her as if to try stop your tears. “I knew. I knew and I didn’t stop it.”

“You stopped it when it was time.” She assured you, her hand reaching out to clasp yours. “I didn’t tell anyone either. There’s more of us, none of us told. Some from before you, even. Who’d believe the disposable women?”

The weight of it crashed into you and your hand clenched around hers tightly. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Meredith. My name is Meredith and you saved me. I would never have talked about it. I woulda just keep letting it happen until he got sick of me.” She explained and you nodded slowly but you couldn’t stop crying.

“I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner.” You whispered and she only laughed kindly, pulling you close. “I should’ve stopped him.”

“You did. You were braver than we were.” She assured you, wrapping you in a hug. You held her tightly, this young woman who had suffered at the hands of the same man of you.

The door opened and you pulled away from Meredith, wiping your eyes before turning back to face Joel. He looked between the two of you warily, a bag in his hand. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, we were just talking.” You assured him and he nodded slowly, a hand reaching out for you. The knuckles of the hand you took were still healing from Nolan and you ran your free hand over them. “He won’t be back. You know that?”

Meredith looked over Joel and focused in on his hand. She shut her eyes and exhaled heavily. Relieved. “I’m glad of that. Thank you. Thank you both.”

///

“You’re not gonna just kiss me on the doorstep, are you?” Joel had taken you for a picnic down behind the greenhouses. You hadn’t even known the grassy patch existed, right in the way of the setting sun. He had been the perfect gentleman, offering you wine and fruit to go with the food he had coerced Seth into putting together.

You wanted to jump his bones. You wanted to hear those moans again, whispers of how good you felt and grunts as he came, his fingers tightly gripping your hips. It was all you could think about while he had told you stories from a past life. Making you laugh while you throbbed between your legs.

“You don’t want a kiss?” Joel asked, your hand clasped in his as you approached your house. He was smiling gently and you wondered how you could have this after all the bad you had done.

“I want more than a kiss.” You told him and the smile disappeared, his eyes darkening. “I want you to hold me and fuck me and make me breakfast in the morning.”

“We should take it slow.” Joel tried and you inhaled deeply, nodding a little.

“If that’s what you want then okay. I can wait. But I’m ready when you are.” You told him and he groaned. You paused with him at your garden gate and you looked down at your clasped hands. “You can go home. And we’ll wait until you’re ready.”

You knew he was trying to be a gentleman, trying to backtrack and keep to your old rules but you didn’t want him to. You wanted him in a way you had never felt for anyone before.

“I can just take care of myself.” You shrugged, reaching behind you to unlatch the gate. You took a step back when Joel blinked at you. You let his hand go and stepped back again. “Just me in my room. My hand between my legs and-”

You couldn’t help but scream when you were suddenly airborne, landing over Joel’s shoulder with a loud laugh. “Alright alright. I get the picture. You need it bad. I need it bad.”

“You’re an animal.” You laughed as he pushed in your unlocked door. He chided you for it just barely and when you only laughed at him he swatted at your ass.

“That’s a delicate position you’re in, baby. I don’t want no sass.” He warned and you couldn’t help the giggle. It seemed he was the only person who made you laugh these days and you relished in it, swatting his own ass in return.

“Seems we’re both in a delicate position, Mr Miller.” You reminded him. He took the stairs two at a time and your laughter bounced off the walls.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Honey.” He dropped you unceremoniously onto your bed and you stared up at him with a soft smile on your lips. “Well, what are you waitin’ for? Get those clothes off so I can get a taste of what I been missing.”

You never moved as fast, shedding your clothes while he pulled his off. There was clothes thrown everywhere and you were panting, taking him in. He was glorious. Broad and tanned, he wasn’t cut with muscles like you would see in a movie. He was solid, he had real strength that made him broad and soft.

“I believe you wanted a taste?” You raised an eyebrow and he snapped from his staring.

“Oh baby, I want more than a taste. I want you as a meal every damn day for the rest of my life. But sure, I’ll start with a taste.”

I feel like I could continue this universe. If anyone has any like short drabbles or blurbs feel free to request them maybe? Just little scenarios you want to see this couple face.

[eeunoia]

ENHYPEN Series

sinag — psh.

chapter seven

pairings: park sunghoon x reader

synopsis: waiting for a great plot twist in your life, the ruthless and powerful mafia boss park sunghoon forced his way in to it.

word count: 2.6k

warnings: contains harrassment, violence, guns, killings, abuse, obsessive love & other stuff. if you can't take this stuff, feel free to scroll away. let me know if i missed some.

note: i’m not sure if the story is slowburn, but i wil take my time with sinag. anyway, thank you so much for reading. replies & reblogs will be appreciated. ily, stay safe.

eeunoia 2024 © all rights reserved.

“I admire your dedication and how brave you are, really. At a young age you managed to start building your empire. Honestly, I’m impressed.” he stated and then took a puff from his thick expensive tabaco.

“But we’ve been in partnership with the Kwons for years already, Mr. Park.” the old business man with so much influence stated while sitting in front of Sunghoon.

The young mafia boss smirks, back leaning over his swivel chair. He looked relaxed and confidence ooze from him, mainly why despite the age difference, the men he gathered today gave him respect. He’s known for being so impulsive and often take risks when it comes to business. Wreckless, if someone will describe it at one word. But God, is he good at it. He clearly knows what he’s doing.

“Exactly...” he starts and tilts his head while eyeing each and everyone of them. “you’ve been partnered with the Kwons and yet no development. You are still there. Making money, yes. But not growing.” his words were precised making them speechless.

They eyed each other and that statement obviously left something in them. He was right anyway. The silence stretched for five minutes before one reached over his pen and signed the contract in front of him. The others watched with utter shock on their faces.

Sunghoon’s smirk grew in victory before he stood up to shake hand with his new investor/partner. With the lead of his first alliance, the others gradually followed and signed his contract as well. It was a sure victory for him again. Another gain for him and a lost to the Kwons. He won’t stop until he stripped them off of everything they have. They kept on going on his way and so he needs to get rid of them.

The meeting ends smoothly and after everyone left the conference room, Sunghoon stood in front of the big clear windows and stared at the view of city lights beneath him. It was relaxing, makes him forget about being frustrated in the continuous failure of searching for you.

“There you are," he craned his neck and looked over his shoulder when he heard somebody talked.

Jake stood by his door, his coat off and only left with his white longsleeves polo that he wears under it. It seems like his friend had a long day of work as well. What else does he even do other than bury himself with paperworks and make more money despite having many of them already?

“I thought you’re in Italy?” Sunghoon turns back and once again looked over the view while asking his friend.

He heard the sound of a chair moving, maybe he sat down.

“That was the other day. I got back last night.” he stated and he only responded with a nod.

Sunghoon has a lot of things in his mind lately. His plan on making the Kwon fall apart, expanding his empire and of course, to find you. That’s the most important thing in his list. The most highlighted one, the priority.

“Do you think I’m really losing my mind like how they’re implying?” he suddenly blurted out that caught Jake’s attention. He watched how his friend blankly stared outside the windows.

He wanted so bad to tell him that he had found you. That you aren’t just a hallucinations created by his mind, but a true person. But he knew well more than to distract him from what he should acquire first.

Freedom.

Sunghoon may seem like he’s free as he usually do everything he pleases, but no. He knows that himself. Even if how many times he reject and deny it, he’s in fact attached to his Father’s shadow. He’s part of his dark past that will always find a way to hunt him. He needed to be even more successful without being aligned or connected to him. He needs to stand up on his own feet, til the day that his Father won’t be mentioned every time he succeed on something. Until he proved everyone he don’t need his glorious name and influence in the mafia world to be well known. To be feared.

Jake sighs and stood up before trudging closer to his friend. He clapped his shoulder once before sliding his hands inside his pockets then joined him on watching the busy city beneath them.

“No.” he simply answered.

It was just a one word answer. It may mean nothing or unsincere for some, but for Sunghoon that means a lot already. Jake Sim is the type of person who never lies. His honestly in terms of business had been applied even outside his workplace. He knew Jake won’t say words just to make him feel better. He’s his friend. He will say the most hurtful things if he knew Sunghoon needs to hear it.

“But I’ve searched everywhere already. Maybe they’re all right? That I’m insane for looking for someone who might actually didn’t exist.” his eyes dark and sad.

Jake was there ever since day one. Since the day he started to look for you. He’ll be honest, before he can even found you he thought his friend was just hallucinating. Or maybe he mixed someone’s face with someone and suddenly came up with a new face if that’s believable enough to stop him from searching.

But the way his eyes looked so hopeful and excited whenever a new information about your whereabouts came, indicates how serious he is with you. He’d never seen his friend like that ever since. He never looked more alive. And so he believed and he never failed.

He claps his friend’s shoulder. “The world is bigger than you think, Sunghoon. We’re going to find her.” he stated seriously.

“You’re going to see her soon.” he added, eyes looking at him meaningfully.

Sunghoon nods his head and smiles a little. “You’re right. I’m going to see her soon.”

Sunghoon is busy reviewing some paperworks when someone suddenly burst his door open. It was so hard that it made a loud sound. He seemed unfazed about it and lifts his head up to meet the person who dares to disturb him.

A grin appeared his face as he settles the folder down his office table. The view of raging Mr. Kwon just makes him feel funny.

“I don’t think you set an appointment with me today, Mr. Kwon.” he taunts that made the man even more mad.

“How dare you steal my investors from me?! Is this your way of starting a war with me?” he sighed heavily, trying to calm himself even if its no use. He was obviously very mad, face red and hand clenched into fists.

“You are just a kid. You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

His statements almost made Sunghoon laugh at his face. He looked pathetic in his eyes. It didn’t even made him scared.

He sighs and slowly leans his back over his swivel chair then sat comfortably in a dominating position. He saw how it added fuel to the firing rage of Mr. Kwon.

“I already warned you, didn’t I?”

Sunghoon’s smirk faded and he stared at him with blank face. He stood up and struts closer to him and he stopped infront of Mr. Kwon. He puts his hands inside his pocket and stood proudly. The amount of power and confidence oozing from him are unmeasurable. It made Mr. Kwon a little anxious, but he tries his best not to look scared. After all, fear is what makes the hunt for predators more fun.

“Get out of my fucking way my way.” he said sternly that left the older man speechless and stoned to his position.

Sunghoon tilts his head, “Take it as a warning.” he turns his back and went close to his table to click on the intercom.

“Escort Mr. Kwon out of my office. We are done talking.” and he gave another look on him before going back to his table.

On the other hand, Jake and Ni-ki are on their way to the company where you’re working at. It’s been almost three weeks since you started your job and he just wants to check on you. Make sure everything is all right and smooth for your advantage.

“Are you really sure its her, hyung?”

“Riki, you’ve checked it yourself. You already digged some informations that clearly matched her with the same girl Sunghoon was talking about back in that country.” Jake sounded like he’s slowly losing patience with his friend.

The younger one nods, “Ah right. It’s just still fascinating for me. She did really exist.” he says amused.

“Sunghoon hyung is not crazy!”

Jake grinned and scoffed before swatting the younger one's shoulder. He whined a little, but still pull his teasing grin.

“He might actually go crazy if he don’t see her.” Jake added after a big sigh.

“This is a slap on Jay hyung’s face. He always teases Hoon hyung about her.”

“You cannot tell him.”

“I won’t, don’t worry!”

“You better.” Jake says as a warning.

Ni-ki raised his right hand and even crossed his heart in joking way. He looked extra excited so Jake reminded him that they won’t really show themselves to you. They just went there to observe and to check on how are you doing lately.

“When do you plan on making them meet?” Ni-ki asked, again curious to what’s about to unfold.

Jake shrugged his shoulders off. “Probably soon.”

“Next month?”

“Not that soon. Sunghoon still have a lot of things on his plate.”

The younger one nodded, understanding the situation despite feeling impatient. He couldn’t deny it but he wants so bad to know how will his Sunghoon hyung reacts once he saw you.

“So our job is to babysit for him?”

Jake chuckles on the way he describe what they’re currently doing.

”Yes.” he answered.

“What do I get in return?” the sly smirk on his face obviously shows why he’s their maknae.

Jake rolled his eyes. “Do you always need something in return? He’s our friend.”

“Business is business, hyung.” he shrugs his shoulders. “And besides, you got a check from hyung!” and even knudge his shoulder.

Jake chuckles. “Let’s first make sure she will be safe until the time they meet and maybe Hoon will gift you something.”

“Do you think he will give me another private plane?” he wonders.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Good morning, Aelia!” your head lifts from fixing your uniform and search for the person who greeted you.

A wave is what you respond to them with your warm smile. It’s been weeks ever since you started and so far you’re enjoying your work. The people in the office are nice and friendly. You can say you have a better office environment compared to your previous workplace.

“Hi, Aelia!” another one greets you and stood still beside each other.

“Hello, good morning.” cheeks tinted a bit red, feeling shy.

“How’s your sleep? I saw you going out from the building pretty late. Overtime?” he asks, eyes never leaving you. As far as you remember, he’s part of the Finance Department. Their floor is just below yours and he oftens visit your floor whenever they have to breakdown some office expenses.

“Yes.” you shortly replied.

He didn’t seem bothered by your response and was about to ask more when a bunch of other employees enters the elevator.

When his floor tings, he glanced at your direction one last time then waved. You gave him a nod and he left. It’s not that you’re being rude or anything, you just really don’t know how to deal with men right now. It still make you uncomfy and anxious sometimes.

The moment you arrived your floor, a crowd of early employees are gathered over by the side. A pout made its way over your lips as curiosity struck you. They seemed so hook to whatever that is that they’re talking about. You have to walk by them in order to go to your office and when you’re near enough, one of them noticed you.

“Ohh! Miss Aelia!” she called and smiled brightly over you before heading your way.

You waved because she’s so adorable. She’s part of your team and you can say that she’s very nice.

“I told you to just call me Aelia, Clara.”

She giggled and stalked behind when you walk towards your office, ignoring the crowd of employees all circled early morning.

You sets down your things at your office table before taking off your long coat. Clara watches you with a small smile.

“What’s with the crowd? It’s very early for that, don’t you think?” finally found the courage to ask about it.

“Oh!” she exclaims and glanced over them once before looking back at you. “Should I tell them off? I can go and—”

“No, no!” you are quick to refrain her from doing so. She stopped her tracks and faced you with a little surprise look.

“It’s fine, let them be. Its not yet office hours anyway, so its totally fine.” and you end it with a warm smile. She nods and eyes settles over you.

“They’re actually watching the footage of the shootout that happened last night.” she suddenly says.

Your brows narrowed and glanced at her direction, confusion mirroring your expression.

“Shoot out?”

She nods again, “Yes! There’s a lot of people who died last night. I bet its because of those mafia families again...” her eyes looked terrified just by the mere mention of that word. She held her arms together, like giving herself a hug and shivers.

“I still can’t believe mafias really exists. It gives me chills.” she mumbles and you fell silent.

Memories of that night starts to flows back in your mind. Suddenly, you can remember that cold, silent night that still gives you nightmares from time to time. You cleared your throat and glanced back at Clara.

“Why isn’t it on the news? What did the goverment even doing?”

She pouts and shook her head, “The government can’t do anything about it. Those families are very powerful that even the police doesn’t want to get involve.” she states in a low tone.

“I heard it was Park Sunghoon last night.” she added and her eyes flashes fear. “Even by just hearing his name, I’m already shaking.”

You’ve heard his name before and never once with a good news. A lot of people fears him and often describes him as someone ruthless. Well, that ain’t a surprise from a mafia. Sometimes, you wonder how he looks like. Is he old? Probably, right? If he’s this powerful and influencial already then he must have been aged.

“I just really hope I can avoid encountering any of them.” she states.

You pout and nodded in agreement. That’s the best way to avoid trouble and to keep your precious life. They said there’s a lot of temptations that comes along with getting involve with people like them. Money is one of the common temptress. Something that people cannot ignore instantly.

“Me too, Clara. I will do my best to avoid getting involve with them.”

main master-list

permanent taglist:

@rubyanne @map-of-border @hwangjangmi @love13tter @candewlsy @simpforniki @classicroyalty @bridgebridgebirdiebridge @hime98 @moonsclassyslore @ddeonubaby @yeoungie @acciomylove @mymeloem19 @jvngw0n @dreamjerky @minamoons @clar-iii @herasalvatore @nyfwyeonjun @rcveribin @yizhoutv @one16core @soobin-chois @kyutiepeachy @chareadingpurposes @hwalllllllelujah @solelyenha @90sni-ki @nourhan-8 @nikipedia07 @yangbreads @drunkjazed @kimmchijjajang @hoonbrry @axartia @all4haru @sta-rie @hiqhkey @purplepuppychild @iceeee @wtfhyuck @tobiosbbyghorl @nikililmj @moonlightisland @ayayiiie @aeyeree

sinag taglist:

@heeseung-min @lovingvoidgoatee @dimplewonie

[ggggggfft]

Have you ever helped detransition someone before, if not outright forced their detransition?

That depends on your definition of “forced.” I would say I have coerced girls into detransitioning, but the ones I’ve toyed with have always wanted to be stripped of their faux masculinity in the most humiliating ways. I give them plenty of opportunities to walk away. To say no and try to abandon this particular kink. But they always - Always come crawling back telling me how drippy are for transphobic porn. How they need Daddy to fuck their little girly pussy and turn them straight. They can’t help it. Craving dominate male seed and obeying their biological urge to reproduce is literally hardwired into their smaller brains. They will always be female first and fakeboys second.

My first experience with detransing was with my ftm girlfriend of several years. He was a she when we first met and started dating and when he finally worked up the courage to transition he only did so socially. I continued fucking his soft, womanly body and playing with his massive tits like nothing had changed, because aside from a few key words and a new name, there was nothing different about her. We were still having straight sex with my cock buried deep inside her slutty testosterone free pussy. She still loved to have her nipples teased and played with and it made her so wet. She was still fertile and could get pregnant at any time. She wasn’t on birth control.

After about two years of being out and still no HRT we began to play with her gender in the bedroom. She liked when I told her to take it like a girl. That I was raping her like a girl. That she would be a good girl for Daddy’s cock and let me use her pussy. In her mind, it was all pretend, playing into her fantasies of being a femboy. For me it was the perfect way to subconsciously train her to enjoy her body as it was. For her to come to terms with her birth sex and accept her womanhood. To go back to being my girlfriend. We broke up and to this day she is still going by he/him pronouns, but she has had no surgeries and while she did recently start hormone therapy she is taking the lowest dose possible. She has a very cute little mustache and gets misgendered every day by strangers, coworkers, and even supportive family members who are fully aware she is trans and has been for years.

We fuck now and then and when we do she asks me to fuck her cunt instead of her ass and get her pregnant. She calls her clitoris her babydick or even her boyclit and the last time we fucked I was testing the waters and called it her clitoris and she said nothing in her defense. Every time I pull her pants off she’s wearing panties and she will “cross dress” if I tell her too. I’ve never come out and told her about my fetish but I feel like part of her must know or at least suspect the truth, and yet she still can’t keep her legs closed around me. She’s my long term project and I hope as her biological clock starts counting down she finally cracks and gives in to what she obviously needs.

What really kicked off my hunt for fakeboys was a girl here on tumblr. I liked her blog description, she was 18, and she had reblogged so many posts begging for transphobic asks and rape threats. I sent her what I now think was a pretty mid dm describing how I’d fix her if she was my daughter and I found her blog. She responded by sending me pics of her shaved teen pussy and begging for more filth. I was hooked after that. She’s now fully addicted to misogyny and incest porn. She’s my good little zoomer slut who I can always hit up for pussy inspections or to make her drink her own piss. She fully accepts that she is a woman in mind, body, and soul, but we agree she should continue hormone treatment because it makes her even more horny and depraved.

She has gone out in a wig and breast forms and dresses in public for me and will sit in cafes with her legs spread and her big red cherry and drooling slick cunt on display for the world to see. She’s terrified of being clocked and actually hate crimed every time, but she just makes such a convincing cis girl that nobody ever notices. As soon as she gets home she gets on cam with me and rubs her clitoris while thanking me for showing her what a dumb tranny she is. I have her crouch in front of the camera and finger herself until she squirts onto her gym clothes for tomorrow. I have her chant that she is not a man. She will never be a man. She is her cunt and cunts are slaves to cock. I have her endlessly repeat that she wants to be a girl because girls are stupid and inferior and get to be dumb, brainless cumrags eating ass and getting fisted all day long while she jackhammers a dildo into her sweaty cunt.

She started out wanting to be misgendered and feminized, but I’m proud to say I broke her. If it doesn’t involve detrans and misogyny, she can’t get off any more. We’ve discussed it and if we were to move in together, with her coming to a new city in a new state where nobody knows her she would definitely detrans for real.

Right now I’m working on a girl who hasn’t come to terms with the reality of her desires. She is also a filthy sex slave but she insists on using those annoying he/they pronouns. She’s entertained the idea of becoming my good girl all the way, but is still reluctant. I get so turned on watching her try to resist her desires but knowing it’s futile in the end. if I want her to be a girl, she will be a girl. End of story.

Last night I had a great session with another ftm who started out being unsure and using he/him, but by 4 in the morning I had her telling me how she wanted my big fat cock to fuck a baby into her in front of her family. How she wants her dad to see his grandson being made. She fell completely in love with her vagina and the pleasure it can bring real men by the end of the night.

I’m waiting to sniff out the perfect gold-star tomboy faildyke to forcibly detrans. I want her to be defiant and tough and mean as hell so that when she’s a fucked out set of holes who only lives to worship men and get pregnant and give birth and has an IQ of 50 and giant plastic tits that victory will feel all the more glorious.

There are others but this post is already so long. If you’d like to make it longer, you can always dm me or send anons if you’re nervous. I love knowing there’s a shy girl behind the screen somewhere frantically rubbing her clit to these asks.

[cheynovak]

Complicated

Characters: Soldier boy x Y/N Female character     

Summary: Y/N found a new life after the loss of Ben. She married Steve, had a house with a white picked fence. She thought she was happy. Until Ben returns from Russia.

Warnings: none

English is not my first language 

*Please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated* 

part 8

It had been decades since Ben disappeared in Nicaragua, and the version Vought sold to the public—that he heroically stopped a nuclear explosion—always felt like a lie to me. But as the years passed, I stopped hoping for the truth. I moved on.

I had a whole new life, a new chapter. I married Steve when I turned 25, five years after I let go of Ben.

Steve is a wonderful man, kind and generous. He wasn’t anything like Ben. Steve wasn’t a superhero or a larger-than-life figure; he was grounded, patient, and treated me like I was his world. But it never really felt the same.

I loved him in a way. But I was never in love with him.

Steve ran a successful company, one of those businesses that seemed to flourish no matter what the economy looked like. He had built his empire from the ground up, and despite turning 65 last year, he was still working, still driven. His wealth provided us with a comfortable life, and he always made sure I had everything I wanted.

Steve treated me like a princess, with the kind of devotion I never expected but had grown to love. We didn’t have kids together; I never wanted them. Maybe it was my past, maybe the trauma of losing Ben, but I knew motherhood wasn’t for me. Steve understood, never pressured me, and we built a life that was just the two of us.

It was a quiet life, safe and predictable—exactly what I needed after the chaos of my younger years.

One morning, Steve and I were sitting in the living room. He was reading the newspaper while I busied myself in the kitchen, making breakfast. The television was on, more background noise than anything, until the news anchor’s voice caught my attention.

"Breaking news: there has been a massive explosion downtown, and witnesses claim—"

I glanced up from the stove, not really paying attention at first. But then the image on the screen made my heart stop. My breath caught in my throat, and I could feel the spatula slip from my fingers.

"Ben?" The word escaped my lips in a whisper, disbelief flooding me.

The footage on the TV was grainy, shaky, but unmistakable. There he was, Soldier Boy. Ben, my Ben. Alive.

Looking exactly the same as he did in 1980, part from the big beard and unclean hair and clothing. My legs gave way, and I gripped the edge of the counter for support, my mind reeling. How could this be possible? After all these years, after everything, how was he standing there?

Steve, noticing my reaction, looked up from his paper. "Darling, what’s wrong?"

I couldn’t hear him. All I could do was stare at the screen, my heart racing, memories of a life I had long buried rushing back in an instant. Ben, the man I had loved so deeply, the man I thought I’d lost forever, was somehow back.

I stood frozen in the kitchen, staring at the television screen in disbelief, my heart pounding in my chest. Ben... was alive. After four decades of believing he was gone, he was here, back in the world. I felt like I was drowning in emotions I hadn’t faced in years, emotions I thought were long buried.

Steve saw the change in me, the way my hands trembled. Concern etched across his face as he walked over, gently taking my arm. “Y/N, what’s wrong?” His voice was calm, steady, just like him. I glanced at him, his face full of love and worry, and the guilt hit me like a punch to the gut.

Steve didn’t know.

He had no idea about Ben. We met just months after I left Vought. I had been trying to piece my life back together, and when he asked me about my past, I told him some the basic lies mix with the truth —that I had worked for Vought, that I had left after my boss died, but nothing more.

I never told him about Ben or soldier boy. How could I? How could I explain something I could barely make sense of myself? Did Ben and I even had something long enough to call it a relationship? We had plans, yes, but he got away before we had a chance for happiness.

Ben was the one that got away.

The second we decided to be together, he was shipped off on that off-the-books mission, and everything crumbled. Our time had been cut short, and I had no closure, no real understanding of what we were. Just a mess of feelings left hanging in the air, unfinished.

I had lied to Steve. He never questioned it. He believed me, and I built my new life around that lie.

Steve gently led me to the couch, his arm still around me. “Y/N, you’re shaking. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

I sat down, my mind spinning, trying to sort through everything, trying to figure out what to say. The TV was still showing images of the explosion, of Ben, the man who I thought I had lost forever. The man who had somehow returned after all these years.

How could I explain this to Steve now, after all this time? Could I even begin to untangle the mess of what Ben and I were—what we almost were—without breaking everything I had with Steve?

I looked at him, his warm, trusting eyes searching mine, and I felt the weight of the secret I had been carrying for so long.

"I…" My voice trembled. "I don’t know how to explain this."

Steve’s expression softened, and he sat next to me, holding my hands. "Whatever it is, you can tell me. I’m here."

I took a deep breath, but the words still wouldn’t come. Not yet. Not with the ghost of Ben looming so large in my mind. Not with the shock of seeing him again, after all this time, stirring up feelings I hadn’t dealt with in decades.

--

Weeks had passed since the day I saw Ben on the news.

Every day, as I went about the same routine: finish some household tasks, going to the shop, buy flowers, placing them on Ben's statue, but now couldn’t stop myself from walking past Vought. It was irrational, I knew. But some part of me—some part that hadn’t healed from the past—hoped to catch a glimpse of him. If he was alive, if Ben had survived all these years, why hadn’t he come looking for me?

The question gnawed at me, growing louder with each passing day. I tried to focus on Steve, on our life together, but the thoughts kept spiraling. Every time I walked past Vought’s headquarters, memories flooded back, and the questions multiplied.

Was Ben still the same man I remembered? Did he even think about me?

Was I just a fleeting part of his past, easily forgotten when his life was restored?

Or did he in the end chose Crimson Countess after all?

I hated myself for feeling this way. I was married to a wonderful man, a man who loved me deeply, who gave me everything I could have ever wanted. But the uncertainty surrounding Ben’s return was tearing me apart. I couldn’t tell Steve—couldn’t bring him into this mess of emotions and half-remembered feelings. He deserved better.

One evening, after another day of walking past Vought, of glancing up at those towering walls in hopes of something—anything—I headed home, my mind swirling. The sky was overcast, and the streets felt heavier than usual. My legs carried me automatically, but my thoughts were elsewhere. The memory of Ben, the man I once thought I loved, weighed on me like a stone.

Why hadn’t he come to find me?

As I opened the door, back at home I heard Steve laugh. I figured he brought a colleague home like he had done before. But no, I turned the corner asking him what he wanted to eat.

I froze in the doorway, my heart slamming against my ribs. There he was. Ben. Standing in my kitchen. The beard threw me off for a second, but there was no mistaking it. His eyes, those intense green eyes, were locked on mine, the same as they were all those years ago. I had to grip the doorframe just to steady myself, my legs threatening to give out.

"Darling," Steve’s voice snapped me back to the present. He came over to me, his tone warm and casual, completely unaware of the storm inside me. He kissed the top of my head, a gesture so familiar, yet in this moment, it felt distant, like a world I no longer fit into. "You never told me your old boss was Soldier Boy."

My heart dropped. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Ben, and his gaze never left mine either. The air felt thick with everything unsaid, with years of unresolved feelings, guilt, and confusion. I could see the recognition in his face, the way his jaw clenched, the way his fists tightened at his sides as if he was fighting to hold back something.

He looked… different. Rougher, but still unmistakably Ben. Hadn't aged a day.

Steve, oblivious to the tension in the room, was still smiling, still welcoming, like this was some old friend we’d just run into at the grocery store. "I-I-I didn’t think it was important," I stammered, barely managing to get the words out. My voice was weak, shaky, completely betraying the calm facade I was trying to hold.

Ben’s eyes darkened, a flash of something—hurt? Anger?—crossing his face, but he said nothing. He just stood there, a living ghost from a past I thought I had buried. My mind raced, searching for something to say, some explanation, but I couldn’t find the words.

Why was he here? After all these years, after vanishing without a trace, why now?

Steve, ever the gracious host, turned back to Ben, clapping him on the shoulder. "I was just telling Ben how much Vought has changed since the '80s. What a wild time that must have been, huh?" Steve laughed, completely unaware of the history standing in his kitchen.

Ben’s lips pressed into a thin line, and I could see him struggling to contain himself, to keep the conversation light. But his eyes were locked on me, and there was no mistaking the tension that radiated between us. "Yeah," Ben finally said, his voice rougher than I remembered. "Wild times."

I felt like the walls were closing in, the room spinning as the past collided with my present. How could I explain this to Steve? How could I tell him about the man standing in our kitchen, the man I had once loved, the man who had vanished and left me with so many unanswered questions?

"Steve, Honey, would you mind getting us something to eat? I eh, I don't think I have enough food in the house for three people."

--

The moment the door clicked shut behind Steve, the tension in the room became unbearable. I took a single step forward, my heart pounding in my chest, and asked, barely a whisper, “Is it really you?”

Ben smirked, the same confident, cocky expression I hadn’t seen in decades. “It is.”

Up close, it was even more surreal. He looked exactly the same. Untouched by time. “You haven’t aged a day,” I said, my voice trembling. I was trying to process everything—the impossibility of him being here, of him still looking like this, as if the years hadn’t even touched him.

He didn’t respond with words. Instead, he closed the distance between us in a single, deliberate movement, and before I could even think, his lips were on mine. The kiss was electric, pulling me under like a drug I hadn’t tasted in years. I froze at first, the shock of it overwhelming me, but then something familiar—and dangerous—awoke inside me.

All those memories I had tried so hard to bury, all the nights I spent wondering what could have been, paled in comparison to the reality of him here, now. My mind raced, half of me screaming to stop, to remember that I was married, that Steve was just outside, and the other half of me spiraling back to 1980 when everything had been about Ben.

His kiss was rougher than I remembered, but still… god, it was incredible. My best memories of him had been half-wrong compared to how he felt, how he tasted. The heat between us was undeniable, but it came with a heavy weight of confusion and guilt. How could I feel this way after everything that had happened? After all this time?

I pulled back, gasping for air, my mind spinning. “Ben…” I whispered, my lips still tingling from his touch. “What are you doing here?”

His green eyes bore into mine, as intense as ever, filled with something dark and unreadable. “I came back for you,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “I never stopped thinking about you.”

I was torn between the raw, unspoken feelings between us and the life I had now, the life I had built without him. "Why now?" I asked, my voice breaking, the weight of everything starting to crash down on me.

Ben's hand brushed my cheek, his touch both familiar and foreign after all these years. "I never meant to leave you," he began, his voice quieter now, almost soft. "Things went wrong." There was something broken in his tone, an undercurrent of regret, but all I could manage to say was, “I’m married.”

He glanced down at my hand, lifting it gently, his thumb grazing over my wedding ring. His expression darkened, and he let out a bitter chuckle. “I can see that,” he said, the pain masked under a layer of sarcasm. “What happened to not sharing?”

His words hit like a punch to the gut, pulling me back to our last moments together, decades ago. I had told him I didn’t like to share, that I wanted him to be mine alone, and now here I was… married to another man. I swallowed hard, guilt rising in my throat. “I thought you were gone, Ben. Dead. Vought said—” I stopped, the lies Vought fed us still tasting bitter.

“I was gone.” His voice was sharp, edged with anger, but there was hurt there too. “Vought made sure of that. But I didn’t want to leave you.”

My eyes welled up with tears, the weight of the years between us crashing down. “You never came back,” I whispered. “I waited… I waited for so long.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” he said, stepping closer again. “I thought of you every damn day. And when I finally got free…” He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before returning to mine, piercing and intense. “You were the first person I wanted to find.”

My chest ached with a confusing mix of emotions—relief, anger, sorrow, and something dangerously close to longing. He had come back for me, after all this time. But it was too late. I had built a life, found someone else.

“Ben,” I said softly, stepping back, trying to clear the fog of old feelings. “I’m not the same person anymore. It’s been decades.”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, I saw the Soldier Boy persona slip—the man who never took no for an answer, who fought for what he wanted. “Neither am I,” he said, his voice low. “But some things don’t change.”

I wanted to believe him, to believe that we could just pick up where we left off, but the ring on my finger was a reminder of the life I had now. "I moved on, Ben. I had to." The words hurt to say, but they were true.

He studied me for a long moment, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if weighing his next move. “Tell me one thing,” he said, his voice gruff. “Do you love him?”

The question hung in the air between us, heavy and complicated. I looked away, not sure how to answer, because I did love Steve. But in this moment, with Ben standing in front of me, all those old feelings were clawing their way back to the surface. Could I honestly say that I didn’t still love Ben too?

I could see the pain flicker across Ben's face as I said the words. “Steve gave me everything I wanted—a house, a home, he loves me.”

Ben’s voice cut through, sharp and raw. “Y/N, that’s not the question.”

I sighed, feeling the weight of it all pressing down on my chest. “It’s… different."

Ben swallowed hard, and I saw him take a step back, the distance between us suddenly vast. His jaw clenched, his hands balled into fists by his sides. “So, I’m too late?” His voice cracked, just a little. It was almost enough to break me.

My eyes filled with tears. “Ben, I—”

“Fucking Russians,” he muttered, cutting me off as he turned his back to me, his frustration boiling over. “Fuck Vought! If it weren’t for them…” His words trailed off, but the bitterness in his tone was unmistakab. He was angry at the years he lost—angry at the life we never got to have.

I reached out, placing a hand on his muscular shoulder, feeling the tension beneath my fingers. “Ben, what happened? Where did you go?"

His shoulders tensed under my touch, and for a moment, it felt like he might actually open up, like he might tell me everything. But just as I was about to push for more, the door clicked open behind us.

Steve walked in, a smile on his face, carrying bags of Chinese food. “Darling, I got your favorite—honey walnut shrimp!” He didn’t notice the tension in the air, not at first.

I quickly pulled my hand back from Ben’s shoulder, stepping away as Steve came closer. My heart raced, panic flaring in my chest. “Oh, Steve… thanks.” My voice trembled, and I tried to force a smile, but it felt weak, hollow.

Steve set the food down on the counter, turning to face us both. His eyes shifted between me and Ben, and I saw the flicker of confusion return. “Everything okay in here?” he asked, his tone light, but I could tell he was sensing the shift in the room now.

I nodded taking the bag, But Ben didn’t turn around, his back still to Steve. He stood there, rigid, like a ticking time bomb ready to go off.

I opened my mouth to respond, but I couldn’t find the words. How could I explain any of this? The man I care for, my husband, standing next to the ghost from my past—the man I never really got over.

Steve's smile faded as he took in the tense silence, his brow furrowing.

--

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[sp00kymulderr]

our house of flames

Part 1 - Spark

series masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader (no pronouns)

Warnings: M, heavy details of grief, blood, implied canon typical violence, suicidal thoughts, injury, trauma, reader is dealing with death of a loved one, general sadness, kissing. Please let me know if I missed any.

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: Years after the outbreak the unthinkable happens and you lose the person who means the most to you. You’ve chosen to give up when Joel Miller finds you and decides to take you in, but is he the best person to help you deal with your grief?

A/N: Whilst this part is M rated, future parts will be very much 18+. This was meant to be v simple pwp but became a different beast entirely oops. If you like it please please comment and/or reblog. To follow for fic updates only go to @sp00kyupdates​ or see taglist details on my masterlist

When Joel had found you, you’d thought it was the end.

In some ways you’d hoped it was.

In the years since the outbreak, everything had changed – you’d learnt to fight, to fend for yourself, to trust few and to hold on to those you cared for with everything you had. That was how it had to be now, so different from before. Those people – the ones you loved – had dwindled dramatically over time. Most were lost to the cordyceps, some to hunters or raiders until eventually it was just you and her, your closest friend through life and hell.

You’d spent over a year just the two of you, drifting from town to town looking for somewhere safe, secure, somewhere to rest your heads for more than a few hours. You’d heard rumours of strongholds you desperately wanted to find, but with the infected population increasing by terrifying numbers it was becoming more and more impossible to imagine a haven in this new world.

So while you’d searched and tried not to yearn for what you might find you’d both learnt instead to survive as ghosts, to keep quiet and out of sight – alive and uninfected.

Until you’d made a mistake.

One that cost a life.

Joel had found you blood-stained and afraid, stuck still in a state of shock. You were shivering violently, huddled down next to a body that you couldn’t seem to look at. Blood on your hands, blood on your clothes, it was starting to pool in the snow. The sticky red of it was making you sick. A gun lay thrown to your other side, muzzle partially buried in the snow.

Your breath ragged, puffing out in white clouds as you heaved with panic, and he had looked at you with cold eyes as you shuddered on the icy ground. You were more than sure that he was another threat – another monster – but you were too adrift to run for your life, too lost now to find a way out of this.

You had sobbed, pathetic and broken, and waited for the man to kill you. You thought perhaps it was all you deserved, to die here beside the last person you had cared about. And the man did aim his pistol at you, his first instinct taking over.

Holding up your hands in defeat, those red stained traitorous hands of yours, you watched almost lifeless as he rifled through your pack. You sniffled, the flow of tears streaming steady down your cheeks.

So this was what surviving had gotten you.

“Please” you had sobbed and wiped your cheeks, smearing them red-tinged. He had placed the pack back down having not taken anything from it. You had nothing he needed you guessed. You had nothing, after all.

“Please” again, and truthfully you didn’t know if you were asking him to end your life or spare it.

He’d looked at you then, properly, and you felt you saw pity in the eyes of this stranger. He remained pointing the pistol at you but something had made him hesitate. For a few moments there was only the puff of your still panicked breath, his much calmer and floating above you in disappearing wisps.

“You bit?” he asked, and was clearly relieved when you shook your head. “She was bit, right?” he waved the gun in the direction of the body you dare not look towards.

“She was...she...we were so careful. We were – She just couldn’t outrun them…” you couldn’t say it, not fully, but the missing parts of your words provided the answer for him.

You’d looked up at him then, with wide eyed fear from the horrors you’d seen and watched the man take a long breath, thinking something over.

“I’m sorry” he murmured, hesitant. You braced for the kill shot then, but all that had come was a sigh as he lowered the gun.

He extended a hand, it had shocked you – scared you more than the thought of dying. You flinched, and he just stayed like that, offering his help.

“It’s alright” he muttered “I ain’t gonna hurt you. Looks like you’ve already been through hell” he looked to the scene before him. The blood and the tears and the discarded gun somewhere to your left.

You had finally, nervously, taken his hand and let him pull you up from the ground. You didn’t look behind you, but you saw him eye you and then reach down for your pack and the gun that you never wanted to have to touch again.

“You got anyone else...anyone waiting on you?” he asked, and you saw a sympathy in his eyes when you shook your head timidly.

“Why...why are you helping me?” you questioned cautiously, voice barely there. You had screamed it away.

He didn’t answer, just handed you your pack – but not the gun – and told you “I got a place to sleep, sheltered, gonna be there a few days hopefully before I move on again. You can come with me, while you get your bearings”

“I don’t understand” you stood away from him, wary and confused and he just waited, too calm.

“You’ve been through something. Way I see it, leaving you on your own out here to die – that would be cruel...there’s infected out here, and worse. I’m not blind, you’ve given up fighting – you’re scared and alone. I’ve got enough humanity left in me to know you need help” he had shrugged and started walking.

And maybe it had been foolish, but you followed him. Because what he’d said, how he’d said it, it sparked something in you.

Hope.

If only you’d known how dangerous hope could be.

***

Three weeks later, and you were starting to feel like a person again. Not the person you had once been, no, they were never coming back to you. But more than a husk, with perhaps at least part of your soul intact.

Beyond all odds, the man had spared you. He had helped you, taken you back to shelter and patched you up. Sure, he’d checked you for bites – never quite believing your words for himself – and it had been humiliating to let him inspect you like that but you couldn’t blame him for not trusting you.

Trust was earned, and not often in a world like this one.

“You’re good” he had said, passing your clothes back, and though you hadn’t quite found relief in that you were at least grateful he wouldn’t put you down the way you had had to…

He hadn’t spoken much, in those few weeks between finding you and now. His name was Joel, he had told you between bites of some miserable canned beans, but that was about all you got from him in the first week. Slowly, ever so slowly you had earned tiny snippets of information from him, but it all felt trivial in the shadow of whatever agony he must’ve lived through to be here now. Everyone had gone through something, and he wore his woe like a heavy cloak that he had no choice but to bear.

You learned that Joel was gruff, controlled, clearly capable of enduring on his own, but there was something else to him too – a sadness you knew better than to talk about. A part of him was missing, you could feel it in everything he did and maybe it should’ve scared you but he had saved you, and you would always see that in him first and foremost.

He was ruthless, too. And you realised very soon that you had been lucky in your fate with him. You  learnt quickly of his ferociousness, his base violence, when some raiders had caught up with you and his eyes had gone black – soul leaving him as he did what he had to to survive. You tried not to think about it, about how he surrendered his humanity in those moments of blood and pain and horror and did what needed to be done. He was like another person entirely, you wondered if he even realised it sometimes.

It is all about surviving, though. You see that now, being alone in a way you haven’t been in the last 10 years. The goal now is only to survive, and you could do that with violence like Joels or you could die...or worse. You know in reality he isn’t good, but really what is good now? Does it even really exist? In the time before the outbreak it had all seemed so clear cut but now the morality of good and evil was so blurred and frayed at the edges, the word had so little true meaning to those still breathing. You know he would’ve killed you if he had to, if you had given him a reason, but still it is difficult to be truly scared of his brutality when you know he is the lesser of many, many worse things out there. So maybe you could not call him good, but his heart persists in spite of his wrongs and that matters the most.

Besides, the moments he didn’t have to be steely and cold he happened to be quite nice. Certainly not sunshine and rainbows, but he looked out for you while you travelled together. And even though he was no conversationalist he never once let you feel left completely alone. In his own way, he was kind and caring and full of compassion that he perhaps hid from himself. Every day since meeting you had felt this string of connection forming between the two of you, barely seen thing string but it was there. It felt like you shared something deep, something between your souls that you didn’t expect to find anywhere other than with her. It terrified you.

Every few days, you moved to a new location. He had told you he was travelling north, and you’d said you’d leave him soon but you both knew you weren’t going anywhere, just sticking along for the journey. You had no where else to be after all.

Tonight, you’re staying in another abandoned house in what was once a small, active town. It’s empty, everything is empty, and even though you know no one is coming back to the house it feels like a violation every time you step inside what had once been a home. It makes you shiver, walking through the dark rooms with the dust lining everything, rising and settling as you move through. Once upon a time, not really that long ago at all, the place might have been full of light and dreams and life. And now it is a roof over a head for you and Joel, a place for you to lay your head and pray not to dream or die.

“Hey” you hear him call in that low voice from another room “Boots. Should fit you”

“Score” you make your way to the bedroom, where he’s holding up an old pair of walking boots that, yes, look about your size. They’re tatty but wearable, and your current shoes are in dire need of replacement.

You sit on the bed behind you, sinking on to the soft mattress, and pull off your shoes to try on the others. It feels wrong, but you have to remind yourself no one is ever coming back to claim them. Joel doesn’t seem to have those thoughts, and you envy him for it.

He smiles as you tug on the boots, just a small smile but it sends something jolting through you.

You look at him for a moment, as he busies himself with checking through the rest of the room for any supplies you can use. Joel is handsome, there is absolutely no denying that, even with the dirt and the sweat and the scruff. He looks tired, desperately so, but even so his dark brown eyes have this shine to them, and his smile though rare is a gorgeous thing. You’ve thought about him, of course you have. When you had met you hadn’t noticed it but the more time you spend with him the more you see him. The more you feel for him. He is beautiful.

You feel a pang, and it’s horribly like guilt, as you think of him like that. Is it wrong, so soon after losing someone, to want someone else in your life? It feels wrong, like sin even though doesn’t make sense. You’re relationship with her had been full of love but it had only been platonic, yet it still feels like...like you’re being selfish, letting her go. It feels like a great betrayal and it stabs you through the heart.

In a moment the grief spills like a mighty flood threatening to consume everything in it’s wake. You stop still in tying the laces of the boots as you feel your breathing quicken in panic. There’s a sting in your eyes but know you wouldn’t cry yet. You can’t breathe, but you won’t cry. Can’t cry. You call the tears back in. Those tears are saved for when you are alone; in the moments when you wait for him to come back from a hunt or a scout, when you sit on the forest floor or on a sad, dusty, long-forgotten chair on your own and panic at the feeling of being by yourself. That is the time for misery, not here. Not now.

“You ok?” he turns to you concerned, noticing the change in your demeanour.

You clear your throat and nod, comforted by the way the tone of his deep, sad, voice speak volumes more than his words do. He worries about you, he does. He cares about you, even though he probably doesn’t mean to. It helps, calms you a little.

You’ve both kept your distance for all these weeks, only close when you need to be, but when you don’t answer he comes to sit right besides you. He’s warm. His body is warm. You’ve felt it at night when you share a bed or when he was showing you how to shoot better, but right now he’s just sitting there besides you his shoulder gently bumping yours and you feel the sweep of comforting warmth.

“I’m fine. I just…They’re good boots”

He lets out a grunt of a laugh.

“They must be damn good” he smiles barely but doesn’t press for a real answer.

The grief is a monster that holds you by the throat, and you are relieved he doesn’t make you give name to it.

Joel knows all about not talking about your pain, after all. You feel it every day and every time things get even a little more personal between the two of you as you slowly slowly inch closer together. He’s holding back on something and trying so hard to pretend it’s not there but what he doesn’t seem to realise is it’s always there. In those quiet moment where you’re just sitting, just trying to get through another harsh night.

***

Tonight you agree to share the large bed with the soft mattress in this house that will never again be anyone's home. He never insisted but you agree it’s safer if you’re both trying to sleep that you’re not separated. Usually you’d split a watch shift and sleep alone but you’ve been walking for miles, you’re sore and tired and miserable in your own little ways.

So you share the bed and to being with you keep your ever-dwindling distance as always but tonight...tonight is different. You drift a little closer than before, unintentional but god you just need the comfort of human touch or something right now. Your body begs for it ever since that crashing wave of heartache engulfed you earlier.

You’re filled with the need to erase that feeling. To replace it with something better, something warmer and kinder. It scares you how much you crave to feel his hands on you, how much you want him to wrap his arms around you. It scares you because you’re not even sure if you can face it – intimacy – or the rejection of it.

Still you move closer and you feel him move on his side of the bed...closer or further away? You can’t bring yourself to look.

“Joel?” you whisper after a breath, hoping he’s sleeping.

He kind of grunts a response and you don’t know what to say next so you don’t say anything. The air moves around you in gripping quiet.

“You alright?” he asks in to the silence, the enveloping dark.

He waits for your answer and you lose yourself in his steadiness. How does he do it? How does he manage to appear so composed even when you both know he isn’t? You want to cry or scream or rip your flesh from your bones. Something to stop all this noise in your head.

Silence still and he doesn’t move, doesn’t ask again. You think he’s probably settling back in to sleep and maybe you should just leave him be.

“Does it ever hurt less?” you whisper and your voice shakes. You regret it immediately. He’s made it clear he doesn’t want to talk about things like that, he’s never even brought up the past.

He sucks in a breath, quiet, but doesn’t answer and you curl in on yourself. The desire to run floods you, the desire to be anything but you; to be strong and unaffected and more like him. You feel the prickle of tears in your eyes and it makes you hate yourself, hate your grief and your guilt and her for making you hurt like this.

And then you hate yourself even more.

“I’m sorry, darlin’….Wish I could lie to you but..” he sighs and you feel the shift of the mattress as he turns towards you. After a long pause and what you think is a hitched breath you feel the press of his large hand at your waist. “It’ll hurt forever”.

“How…” you force back the tears “How do you live with it?”

“You keep trying” his voice is thick with compassion and something else, “You find a way”.

You just nod and let him pull you closer, his body curving around yours, the weight of his arm over you making you let out a breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding. You wipe away those treacherous tears and focus on just the feeling of him. It’s more than you had imagined. More than you’d dared to think about. His breath is warm on the back of your neck and it floods every part of you.

He lets out a sigh that sounds like relief. You feel something in him start to relax, just a little.

You want the pain to go away so desperately, at least for this moment. And so does he.

And so, he turns your head gently, thumb under your chin. You feel it leaving you already, some of the anger and pain. His face is above yours for maybe three seconds that feel like an eternity and then he’s kissing you. It’s soft, his lips are chapped but it doesn’t bother you. The kiss envelops you and the air around the two of you shifts.

Everything is pulled away.

Even if just for the briefest moment, he helps you let it go.

[starg1rlie]

𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 ㅤㅤPROLOGUE: The Baby | (MLIST)

⟡ rating. slight romance + angst ( adolescent audience )

⟡ summary. ( the re-written version of "better late than never" is finally here! i know some people have asked about it, since i've deleted it but it's BACK NOW!! ) not all fairy tales end in a happily-ever-after. take (Y/N) and ajax for example; they had the love story of a lifetime and yet it's now all water under the bridge. ten years after the two of them split up, it was suggested that (Y/N) spend a summer vacation over in snezhnaya to give their son and the father some time to bond together and enjoy a relaxing break. however, that's easier said than done.

notes. you have no idea how long this post has been sitting in my drafts, oml. hey, yep, this is leo here, formerly known online as tarluscious (or, leo, as my moots know me), here to talk a bit about the remake of this delightful series. ever since i started publishing more and more chapters of this series back when it was still a "fly by the seat of my pants" project, i wasn't happy with the final results. i mean, hell, who's ever happy with the first attempt? and i've been meaning to re-write this series for so long, but i never found the time to. when i took my hiatus a couple of months ago, i was a little sad that i wouldn't get the chance to write BLTN over again. however, my friend, who now runs this blog (hyokkun) with me, suggested that they might re-write it, and we came to a happy conclusion that the both of us should work on this project together. so here we are, with the prologue. yayy. just wanted to say that what this means is, hyokkun has added their own inputs into this series, while i, leo, am the main author of it. so, all that being said, i hope you thoroughly enjoy this re-written version. please note that some things may be different from the last time you've read this series, and that's because changes has been made to fit the new plot accordingly. reblogs and likes are appreciated ! | wc. 1,542 words ( 8,566 characters )

⟡ feat. childe / tartaglia x female! reader ( she / her pronouns are used )

ㅤㅤA cry split through the peaceful silence of the hospital. A baby, swaddled in warm, cuddly blankets had begun wailing, even though he was cradled within the arms of his mother. He kept bawling, even as the mother hummed a lullaby, even as she rocked him back and forth in her arms, even as she cupped one side of his delicate face and whispered 'It's going to be okay' over and over again.

ㅤㅤA new wave of sickness passed over (Y/N) as she stared down at her stomach, imagining what it would be like bigger, pondering over the process it takes for a baby to develop within her. It both simultaneously intrigued and terrfied her. She couldn't imagine popping out a baby from her unmentionables, let alone having it stuck in her womb for months. Yet as she began to wonder, a new question came into light: would she give up this baby? Could she?

ㅤㅤPeople say that you don't really have a choice when you're young; no one's capable of raising a child when they're barely just a young adult, and yet, she could name a few people she knew right off the bat who were doing just fine with parenting. But the real question was if she was ready for this. Be it ready to give it up or ready to endure the consequences, it didn't matter. She just had to know for sure if she was ready.

ㅤㅤShe still remembered the conversation that had went down only a few weeks ago. She refers to it as a 'discussion', but really, it was a full-out argument....A migraine had formed underneath her temple and had buried its heels in deep, causing a resonating pounding to echo within her head, messing with her already tangled up thoughts. And yet, that day's memories remained untouched. If anything, it was tugged free of the mess and pulled into the light.

ㅤㅤ"What the fuck? What the fuck?"

ㅤㅤ"Saying 'what the fuck' over and over again isn't going to make the situation anymore better than it already is, Ajax," (Y/N) interrupted, breathing out a slightly exasperated sigh. She'd been scared out of mind about telling her boyfriend about the news and this was exactly why: he'd take it badly. He always took life-changing news badly, unless it involved travelling, free food, or money. She'd grown used to his childish behaviour ever since the two started going out, but right now was not the time to act like a child.

ㅤㅤ"Then what will make this better? Huh? Please elaborate on that for me," Ajax replied sarcastically, throwing his hands up in the air. He'd been pacing for the past five minutes since (Y/N) had spilled the beans about her pregnancy. Anymore pacing and he'd pace a trench right through their apartment floor. "Because I really don't understand how anything can make this better."

ㅤㅤ"Oh, I don't know, maybe the fact that you're going to be a father? Haven't you been going on and on about wanting to have a son one day?" (Y/N) retorted, patience fizzling.

ㅤㅤ"When I'm thirty, not twenty-four!"

ㅤㅤ"What's a few years early? If anything, you'd get your dream quicker," she mumbled under her breath, absentmindedly flipping through the channels on the cable.

ㅤㅤAjax leapt forward and snatched the remote out of her hands, slamming it roughly onto the glossy surface of their coffee table, one that he'd insisted he put together himself, even though the table had come from IKEA, and he knew nothing on how to read instructions in Swedish. That little memory caused a tiny pang to go through her heart, enough to make it ache just a little bit. Please, she prayed, please let us get through this together.

ㅤㅤ"You're not listening! Do you honestly think that I'm ready for this? That you're ready for this? We're still in college for God's sake, do you expect us to be whizzes at parenthood?"

ㅤㅤ(Y/N) barely managed to withhold a snort at his sarcasm, but politely shook her head. She knew deep down inside that she wasn't ready to be a mother, let alone have a child at such a young age. What would her friends think? What would her parents think?

ㅤㅤ"What, then, I 'spose you expect us to waltz right in and get comfortable in our positions as parents, right? We'll be fine, so long as we manage to balance a baby into our already hectic and crazy lives, right? Just plop it right in between work and college and paying bills, hm?"

ㅤㅤ"Right," she repeated.

ㅤㅤAjax paused his pacing for a moment. "Do you understand the concept of sarcasm?" he asked incredulously.

ㅤㅤ(Y/N) went silent, seemingly contemplating whether she'd been too hasty to cast in her answer earlier.

ㅤㅤ"Whatever. It doesn't matter." His jaw tensed and for a moment, he looked as though he might punch something. Not (Y/N), heavens no, but something. Possibly the fridge (poor thing; it never did anything to deserve this sort of abuse). "What matters is that you're pregnant and we're still in college. We're students, we can barely make it past out deadlines, let alone manage a child." He sounded almost tired, and for the first time in a while, she just now noticed the bags under his eyes, and the tired croak to his voice, taking the place of the usual charming lilt he normally had. How many times had she come home from her part-time job at the laundromat to see him passed out on the exact same coffee table they were currently in front of, drooling all over his calculus homework? How many times had she come back from her lectures to find a pristine sink and an empty fridge? Ajax was incredibly vain and conscious about his self-image, that he took great lengths to make himself look presentable each day. But ever since his senior year in college started, his schedue started going downhill and he never had the time to do any of the things he normally did to take care of his body. He hadn't eaten proper food for days, and has been liviing off of coffee (and her fancy vanilla oatmilk creamer) and Doritos for God knows how long.

ㅤㅤ"What are we going to do?" (Y/N) asked finally, voice timid and quiet, as if anything louder might break the fragility of this scene.

ㅤㅤWhen Ajax looked up, she had expected his face to be sad, almost regretful for saying such things about the situation, but instead she found his gaze hard and penetrating, almost menacing. "We can't look after a baby right now, (Y/N), you know that."

ㅤㅤAnd the truth was, she did know it. She just chose not to believe it. But the way he worded it, the way he said it, seemed to hint at something. Something that made waves of nausea roll through the pits of her stomach.

ㅤㅤ"You're not suggesting...."

ㅤㅤ"An abortion," Ajax finished quietly, gaze trained on a coffee stain on the carpet.

ㅤㅤ"Ajax, no. No. We can't give the baby up before we've even tried. That's just cruel. This is your child, possibly the son you said you wanted, and you're just going to throw him away? Let him die before he gets a chance to play on a soccer team, like you did? Before he even gets a chance to see the two people who made him?" Your voice broke at those last few words and before you knew it, tears were streaming down your face in thick, wet trails. "You might be giving up on him, but I'm never letting go."

ㅤㅤAjax inhaled sharply, air hissing through clenched teeth as he breathed out. "We aren't ready for this, (Y/N)."

ㅤㅤ She knew he was right. She knew it in her heart and in her brain. But some part of her wanted to keep this unborn baby that was developing within her stomach right now. Some part of her wanted to know the happiness of being a parent, a mother.

ㅤㅤShe didn't want to follow through with this. She didn't want to let the baby die. And yet...

ㅤㅤ"Miss (L/N)? You can come in now. Dr. Li's ready for you," a voice called, interrupting (Y/N)'s train of thought. She looked up, one hand resting on her tummy, the other clenched around a cell phone. The screen was still on, a barrage of messages (most likely from her family and friends) lighting up the screen with soft 'pings'.

ㅤㅤShe breathed in deeply, exhaling slowly, a breathing trick she'd learned from online to calm her nerves down.

ㅤㅤFinally, she spoke.

ㅤㅤ"Ah, sorry. I'm afraid I've changed my mind. If it's alright with you, I'll be canceling my appointment."

ㅤㅤThe nurse hesitated for a moment before nodding along. She obviously was not paid enough to barge into patients' lives, so she (wisely) kept her nose in her own business. "Of course, miss. I'll let him know you'll be leaving. Have a lovely rest of your day."

ㅤㅤ(Y/N) nodded along before waddling out of the waiting room, feeling giddy and deliriously light from the weight that had just been lifted from her shoulders. Ajax would be upset over this, yes, but it would be worth it. She could feel it in her bones.

📮 tagging. @kiryoutann, @ajaxstar, @mobiussdarling, @samarill, @dinolvrrr, @messyserver, @xxfrostiee, @enviouspeanut, @ehddsnys, @maaarshieee, @dazaiscum, @mochicurls21, @shinobuko, @iiyumii, @meiraloves2dmen, @retiredmommylover, @electronicphilosopherflower. if your user is highlighted in BOLD that means your current URL does not match the one you inputted in the form. fill out this form if you want to be tagged

[little-diable]

A Sacrifice for Him - Dean Winchester (smut)

I'm finally back to writing! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Dean and the reader get into a fight on a hunt, forcing them to part ways. But while Dean tries to drown his anger in beer, the reader is being kidnapped. Will they find back together to finally admit their feelings for one another?

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f), unprotected piv, mentions kidnapping and some typical SPN violence, friends to lovers, happy end of course

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (2.9k words)

Dean had his eyes focused on his hands, on the semi-cold bottle of beer he kept clinging to as if it was his lifeline, saving the older Winchester brother from drowning. His heart was pounding, still fired up from the fight he had found himself tangled in, growling angry words at (y/n). Fuck, his words kept ringing in his ears, followed by the sobs that had clawed through her, angry tears that had rolled down her cheeks like wine staining a piece of linen. 

The evening had started like many others, with the three of them hiding away in a corner of the new bar they had stumbled upon. Once again were they trapped in an unfamiliar town, following clues to fight against whatever kept the people living here on their toes. While Dean and Sam were preparing to fight against a nest of vampires, (y/n) had focused on something else, something that had pushed them into their fight.

Sam had found shelter in the bed of a girl he had met that very evening, giving his brother and (y/n) some alone time, hoping that they’d finally get over themselves and give into the feelings they’ve been fostering for years. But their evening had taken a few unforeseen turns, forcing annoyed grunts out of Dean as (y/n) tried to explain her theories, thoughts Dean couldn't and didn’t want to follow. 

By now he couldn’t remember why he had been so angry, perhaps he had been angry at himself, for not being able to speak those words he had always wanted to speak, confessing the love he felt for her. By now he couldn’t remember what she had replied, why she had tried to convince him of the ideas keeping her awake late at night. 

“Fuck.” Dean threw his head back, eyes squeezed shut as he drowned his last gulps of beer. It took him a few moments before his eyes found the bright screen of his phone, freezing as he realised how late it was, as he realised how many hours had passed since the fight, hours since he had last seen (y/n). 

Without thinking twice, Dean dialled her number, teeth running along his lower lip, anxiously waiting for her to pick up. But she didn’t, forcing Dean to deeply exhale, thumbs flying over the screen as he messaged her a few words, asking her to call him back. His green eyes kept staring at the seconds and minutes passing by, minutes where he was met with nothing but silence. 

Dean anxiously rose to his feet, reaching for his car keys to drive back to the bar where he had last seen (y/n), where he had stormed out into the dark night, leaving her behind. He couldn’t help but curse himself for being this stupid, for giving into his anger, leaving her behind with tears rolling down her cheeks. His heart picked up its pace as he parked in front of the bar, giving himself a few moments to try and regulate his breathing, picking up on nothing but silence. He couldn’t listen to any music, not when his thoughts were running wild, painting pictures that had an awfully sombre feeling to them. 

She’ll be okay. She’ll be okay. She has to be. Dean kept chanting the words, dirty boots meeting the ground as he walked back into the almost empty bar. With his hands buried in the pockets of his jacket, Dean made his way to the bartender, staring at the elderly woman that seemed to recognise him, greeting Dean with a simple “Did you forget something here? I can’t promise you’ll find it, somebody most likely took it with them.”

“I’m looking for my friend, the woman I was here with.” His words had an unfamiliar tone to them, dripping with fear, with desperation. The woman studied him for a moment, palms pressed to the surface of the bar. Her eyes flickered to their surroundings, wandering to the booth where Dean and (y/n) had been sitting all these hours ago.

“She left a few minutes after you, I haven’t seen her since.” A heavy sigh left Dean, murmuring a small “Alright, thank you” before he left the bar once again. With his phone pressed to his ear, Dean made his way back to Baby, finding shelter in his car, back pressed against the leather seat. 

“Hello?” Sam’s tired voice rang in his ears, forcing Dean’s almost teary eyes to momentarily flutter close. “Dean? What’s wrong? It’s almost two am.”

“She’s gone.” Hurt flushed through him as the words rolled off his tongue, adding to the weight resting on Dean’s heart. His palms were sweaty, clearly projecting the fear he felt, the uncertainty making him tremble.

“What? (Y/n)?”

“Yes, fuck, who else could it be?” It took Sam a few moments to reply, Dean could pick up on a few rustling sounds, on an unfamiliar voice that asked Sam why he was leaving. 

“Pick me up, I’ll wait in front of the diner we had lunch at.”

……

Reader's POV:

She woke with a gasp, eyes shooting open, forced to blink a few times before she could adjust to her dark surroundings. Heavy breaths left (y/n), trying to move around on the chair she had been tied to. Her insides screamed at her to call out for Dean, hoping that he was close.

The memories of their fight kept flashing through her mind, forcing a groan out of (y/n), once again realising how heavy the tension between her and Dean was. Fuck, no matter how angry she was at him, she’d always try to reach out, wanting and needing to feel him close. 

“You’re awake, finally!” (Y/n)’s eyes found the dark ones of an unfamiliar woman, hands balled into fists to prepare for whatever may happen to her. Her heart was racing, pounding in her chest, unable to breathe through the emotions rolling upon her like a tidal wave. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been trapped in a situation like this, without Dean or Sam close, hell, she couldn’t even remember the last time she had been on a hunt on her own. “We’ve prepared everything for you.”

“What are you talking about? Let me go!” Her voice had a raspy undertone to it, making (y/n) wonder how long she had been out for. The woman’s laughter rang through the darkness, disappearing from (y/n)’s sight before she could ask another question. Panic flushed through her, spurring her on as she tried to tug on the rope keeping her tied to the chair, hissing whenever the rope burned her skin, leaving ugly marks. 

Before (y/n) could even try to loosen the rope she heard the sound of a metallic door being pushed open, exposing other women that followed the one that had spoken to (y/n) moments ago. She froze in her movements, wide eyes taking in the burning stake she could see from her chair. The flames kept growing higher, flashing through the dark night, forcing goosebumps to rise on (y/n)’s forearms. Was this hell? Was she trapped in another world she couldn’t escape from?

“The time is finally right, we’ve been waiting for this moment for years, and the second we saw you, we knew. You're perfect for Him.” The woman from earlier kept talking to (y/n) as a few other women freed (y/n) from the rope. Before she could try to fight her way out of their grasp, she was picked up by them, carried outside as they chanted words she couldn’t understand. 

“Let me go you freaks! What the fuck are you doing?” (Y/n) could feel the heat of the flames on her skin, making sweat pool on her forehead like raindrops falling from the sky. No matter how much she tried to toss around in their grasp, there was no way out for her, and slowly it began to dawn on her that she was their sacrifice, about to be tossed to the flames. 

“Don’t fear the flames, he is waiting for you.” She couldn’t concentrate on the woman’s words, could only focus on the heavy tree trunk being brought closer, forcing her against it. Once again they wrapped some rope around her body, binding a crying (y/n) against the tree trunk. Dean’s name left her lips over and over again, hoping that the older Winchester brother would come and rescue her. 

“Please, you don’t have to do this.” The whimpers rolled off (y/n)’s tongue like a prayer, hoping that the women would wake from their state, that they’d realise how fucked up this very situation was, but they didn’t seem to pay her crying any mind.

“We have to, otherwise He will punish us. He asked us for sacrifices, so we gave them to him.” A groan left (y/n), reminding her of the words she had shared with Dean, how she had tried to convince him that they were hunting down a satanic cult, picking up on the carvings they found, on the signs and symbols. 

The women began to form a circle around the burning stake, chanting words in Latin, words (y/n) couldn’t pick up on. No longer were they focused on her, leaving her standing in the pale shadows of the dark night. Once again she tried to free herself, tugging on the rope as tears ran down her cheeks, tears that only picked up their speed as she felt a warm hand finding hers, making her heart pick up on its beat. 

“We got you, sweetheart, stay quiet for me.” Dean’s voice rang in her ears, forcing her eyes to flutter close for just a second, giving into the relief she felt. The women kept speaking their prayers, kept singing their songs, not noticing how the two brothers freed (y/n), how they guided her through the darkness with quick and quiet steps, leaving the forest behind before the women could notice them. 

……

“Come here.” Dean was sitting on the all too uncomfortable mattress of her motel bed, arms opened. (Y/n) moved closer, freshly showered, in a desperate need to feel Dean close. Without speaking a word she crawled into his opened arms, head resting on his chest, limbs tangled with his. Both were caught in their thoughts, reliving the past hours, glad that the two of them got to share a room while Sam slept down the hallway. Dean’s hand moved up and down her back, enjoying the feeling of the soft fabric of the shirt of his she was wearing, covering her just enough to hide her panties. “I’m sorry, fuck, I’m so sorry for saying all these words, I didn’t mean them, I was angry, at myself.”

“Why?” The word was murmured against the fabric of his dark shirt, hand fisting his flannel, scared that she’d be ripped from him again. A deep, shaky breath left Dean, eyes focused on the parts of her face he could admire from above. 

“Because I’m scared about what you make me feel, it’s been years, and I’m still so fucking scared of what you’re doing to me. I can’t concentrate around you, fuck, every hunt we’re on I’m close to throwing a fit, because I’m so scared you’ll end up hurt.” With her breath hitched in her chest, (y/n) lifted her head off his chest, eyes finding his forest green ones. She reached her hand out to cup his cheek, feeling his stubble pressing into her palm. 

“I feel the same, always have. But I’d rather worry about your safety than not worry about you at all, Dean.” He stared at her for a few moments before he closed the gap between them, lips slowly moving against hers, testing the waters as if he was scared that he was trapped in a dream. (Y/n) was pulled closer by Dean’s hands finding the back of her thighs, making her straddle his lap, hissing as the fabric of his worn out jeans rubbed against the inside of her thighs. 

A few curses left Dean as her clothed panties met his bugle, rubbing against his hardening cock, desperate to be freed from the confines of his clothes. Their moans blended together, forming a sound so sinful they’d end up in the darkest corners of Purgatory. 

“I need to be inside you, finally need to feel you wrapped around my cock.” Dean’s words forced a moan to claw through (y/n), eyes wide as she was flipped around, landing on the mattress with her back pressed against it. She watched Dean pull his flannel and shirt over his head, rising from the bed to step out of his jeans. (Y/n)’s eyes couldn’t help but wander down to his boxers, taking in the sight of his cock pressing against the thin fabric. 

Before she could snap out of her thoughts, Dean had already pushed the shirt she was wearing up her chest, exposing her breasts to his glistening eyes. Their eyes kept holding contact as his mouth found her warm skin, sucking on her hardening nipples, kneading her flesh with his big hands. Fuck, the mere thought of ever missing out on this left her trembling, silently thanking Dean and Sam for rescuing her, for saving her from the high flames. 

“More, please.” Her whispers left Dean smirking, forcing him to kiss his way down her body, fingers moving along the outlines of her damp panties. Once again their eyes met as he pulled the fabric down her legs, nestling between them to push his mouth against her heat. Her moans guided him on, hand finding his hair to tug on his roots, to force him even closer as his tongue brushed through her slit. Dean moaned at the taste of her arousal, hoping that he’d forever get to cherish her taste, finding pleasure in the way she choked on her gasps, how she moaned his name. 

“You taste so sweet, I always knew I’d end up being addicted to you, sweetheart.” Heat flushed through her, urged on by his praises, by the words that left her heart racing and her walls clenching around nothing. (Y/n)’s eyes fluttered close as he pushed two fingers into her tightness, tongue pressed against her clit, teasing the pulsing bundle of nerves. He could tell that it wouldn’t take long for her to let go, no longer used to being touched like this, and certainly not by the man she had been in love with for years. “Want to feel you wrapped around me, want to make you cum with my cock.”

Another “Please” left (y/n), watching him free his cock, pumping himself a few times before he brushed his tip through her slit. Both held their breaths as he pushed into her, forcing her walls apart with a few curses rolling off his tongue. 

“Shit, I’ll never be able to stop fucking you, you feel so good.” Dean felt as if his soul was no longer part of his body, it felt all too unfamiliar to experience something he had wanted for this long, not used to ending up on the good side of fate, guided by a lucky strike. The sound of their bodies meeting echoed through the room, rough thrusts that left (y/n) choking and Dean groaning, hoping that they’d be able to last a few moments longer.

“Don’t you dare stop, I’m begging you.” (Y/n)’s words were murmured against his lips, chasing his mouth for a few more kisses as Dean pushed her closer and closer to the edge. His warm fingers took care of her clit, adding the right amount of pressure to push her into the veil of darkness that wrapped itself around her. With her eyes closed and her head thrown back (y/n) gave Dean enough room to suck on her throat, leaving marks she’d proudly wear the next morning, unable to stop her smile from widening whenever his eyes would flicker down to her throat.

“Come on, cum for me, doll.” Dean’s raspy words pushed her over the edge, moaning his name as he fucked her through her high. He didn’t stop moving, prolonging the moment for long enough, till he had to pull out, relieving himself on her stomach. Their eyes met, lips unable to stop themselves from sharing another kiss before Dean plopped down next to her. He reached for a tissue, cleaning her up with gentle touches, careful not to hurt her. 

“Thank you for rescuing me.” (Y/n)’s whispers forced Dean to open his arms, to pull her closer once again as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“I’ll always rescue you. Tomorrow we’ll take care of these crazy bitches, I promise.”

[twig-tea]

✨2023: A Summary✨

tagged by @dribs-and-drabbles and @lurkingshan 💕

I couldn't be bothered to toggle on/off privacy settings so I did this manually instead!

January to June 2023:

[I was a lurker through to July so we start there]

July

Popular: Translation note in Laws of Attraction ep 3

Favourite: My Ride rewatch (& self-reflection)

August

Popular: Be My Favourite ep 11 clown checkpoint

Favourite: : Be My Favourite ep 11 meta roundup [shocked this was less popular but it was linked in the other one so maybe people reblogged only the one]; Tonhon Chonlatee [this was a response rather than an original post; it felt good to get this this out of my head]

September

Popular: Only Friends episode 6 scene by scene [when the brainrot was real]

Favourite:  Love Class 2: A Love Letter, In Defense of Dan and Yok [had to give it to two this month; the second is a response]

October

Popular: Only Friends finale reaction

Favourite:  IFYLITA and found family

November

Popular: Liminality in Last Twilight

Favourite: [ditto; I had a hiatus this month so this was one of the few things I posted but I'm so glad I was able to get this out before real life took over]

December

Popular: Cigarette in the Cake from Last Twilight [by a landslide lol and thank you everyone for being as obsessed with this as I am]

Favourite: Beyond the Star rant [I wrote this entirely for me lol];  Why Phaya took the couch in The Sign [response]

[And I've added these two additional categories so that i can use this as my new pinned post lol]

2023 end of year round-up posts:

2023 Watch List

Top "5" (lol) characters I would help bury a body

Top 5 Couple fights

Top 5 Yearning scenes

Five other posts that I want to highlight because I can:

Why R U Korea mistranslation

Alternatives to Measure Your Life By

Grand Guignol review

Love in Translation review

Shadow the series squicks and scares

Ask game re: my BL start and fave shows [previous pinned post]

[dominimoonbeam]

Bite to Bruise - Epilogue + Extra Scene

This work is mine and I do not give consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted without my permission. I am sharing chapters as I work on this story but it is copyrighted material that I plan to rework and publish when completed.

story tags: modern-fantasy mashup, werewolves, witches, monsters, romance, learning to trust, hurt/comfort, blood, violence, explicit sex, explicit language

The earlier parts can be found under the tag or over on patreon. <3

A huge thank you to everyone who read this and commented or reblogged or just sent good vibes. I'll be editing and adding a bit more to this one and then self publishing it soon. Thank you!

BITE TO BRUISE - CHAPTER EPILOGUE + EXTRA SCENE.

EPILOGUE

There were a lot of questions about what happened in his territory that day.

The other fenrir wanted to know if the shades had attacked, if it was a call to war.

The shades had their own questions but locked them behind their teeth.

Ever brought Wren back to the house and the pack watched Grendel and Hymn carry Baron’s body from the woods, the curse still wrapped around him.

Blackwell’s shades ripped the old god apart and dug her out of its guts. The pack allowed them to leave, carrying their undead back to their vehicles in a trail of blood that was everything but fenrir.

Later that night, they discovered the hole where Soren had been buried. Ever suspected Primrose had recovered his missing shade, just as he had set out to do from the start.

From what he heard months later, Baron’s court managed to get the curse off of him and the shade recovered—only he forgot the name Baron and went back to being Kish. The bounty on the witch was canceled.

Eventually winter gave way completely and the last of the snow and ice melted, taking the bloodspill with it into the earth. After they had cleared the fallen trees and the grass grew in the valley, it looked like none of it had ever happened. No human would guess at it, even if every fenrir could smell that hint of shade and monster in the soil for years to follow.

It smelled like violence and victory, and when he stepped through the back door of his home to see his witch sitting in that field, picking at long grass and watching the trees with a smile, he knew she smelled it too.

EXTRA SCENE

Before Ruby realized it, the streets had changed. Ceres had gone quiet and nearly abandoned within just a block. She kept walking, expecting to run into another stretch of brightly lit shop fronts and restaurants overflowing with guests.

A few more steps and she felt the skin on the back of her neck prickle, her hands twisting in the sleeves of her hoodie.

“Are you lost?”

Ruby turned toward the voice. Yellow eyes stared back at her. The man was fenrir big. She exhaled a little relief, smiling. “I didn’t think I was…”

“Where’s your mate?” another voice came from the side.

Her heartbeat sped up, pounding against her throat. There was something pointedly unfriendly about this interaction. Had she done something? “What?” the word came out thin and unsteady. What was their problem? Did they know Liang? He’d said Ceres belonged to his cousin and they were safe here.

She took a step back and the one to her right, still deep in shadow between buildings, growled.

The sound made her jump and jerk away from it, stumbling off the sidewalk and into the street. A wolf stepped out of those shadows, darkness rolling off of its massive body like it was made of it. Lips curled back to bare long teeth as it continued to snarl at her.

“Well?” the other asked, as if he hadn’t noticed. “Where is he?”

“Who?” Ruby played dumb. It felt easy when she had no idea what was happening.

The wolf at her side snapped and Ruby screamed, legs tangling and dropping her on her ass right there in the street.

“Why would a rogue send their mate in here alone?” the other wondered aloud, stepping closer. Somehow, he was more menacing than the one on all four.

But then he froze, his expression dropping and his head turning to the side like he’d heard something she couldn’t.

The fenrir on all four had stopped growling too, ears flicking before it backed away.

“Knock it off,” a third commanded, walking onto the scene and right past the one asking questions. He was just as tall but leaner, and yet the other man backed up, dropping his head. The third flashed Ruby a smile that actually looked genuine and offered her his hand. “Hi. I’m Sunny.”

Ruby took the hand and was hoisted to her feet. “Ruby,” she muttered, confused.

He smiled the way she’d become used to fenrir smiling when she gave her name, but he released her hand a took a step back, giving her just enough space to have the illusion of being out of his reach. “Are you lost?”

She exhaled hard. “Why does everyone keep asking that?”

The fenrir on four legs snorted and turned to walk back into the shadows.

Sunny stepped to the side, gesturing for her to join him back the way she’d come.

Ruby frowned but started walking. This was at least better than possibly getting mauled… “Did I do something wrong?” she asked when she could see the brighter lights of the familiar streets ahead.

Sunny had maintained a distance from her, a step ahead and to her side. “No. You just smell like a wolf that doesn’t belong to our pack. So, they got a little… defensive.”

“I thought Ceres belonged to Royal?”

Growls rumbled from the streets behind her but when she looked, she couldn’t spot any of the wolves in those shadows. The man beside her just smiled. “Half of it does. The half you were on. You couldn’t have known, and it wouldn’t have mattered if—”

“If I didn’t smell like a wolf.”

He nodded. “Speaking of…”

The growls in the dark got louder when she spotted Liang marching out of those bright streets and straight toward them. If he knew where the border was, he didn’t show any signs of caring.

Ruby felt a mix of relief and worry. She almost reached for him, but she was scared she’d led him into a conflict. “I managed to get lost,” she announced, hoping to break some of that tension she could see in the line of his shoulders and the curl of his lip flashing long pointed teeth. His eyes stayed fixed on her, moving over her from head to toe like he was looking for injury.

“I left you alone for twenty minutes,” he pointed out, his usual easy humor there but with a tension underneath she’d never heard. She really must have stepped in it this time… He pulled her gently behind him, away from Sunny.

Ruby blinked, surprised. Sunny was far from menacing, and she had seen Liang fight worse. But Liang took a step back, nudging her farther away. “She didn’t know,” he explained.

Sunny wasn’t smiling anymore, she realized. His eyes were on Liang now. “But you did.”

Liang took another step back, keeping her behind him, and she realized he might not be backing up at all if it weren’t for a need to get her away from the situation. “I wasn’t part of the pack that lived here before yours and I don’t belong to Royal.”

“But you are his blood.”

“And you are Ever’s blood but that doesn’t mean you belong to his pack anymore, does it?”

A series of snarls and growls echoed through the dark streets behind Sunny, and Ruby wondered how many there were out there.

Sunny kept his eyes on Liang, like he was trying to read something that wasn’t said or seeing something no one else could. “Welcome back to Dog Lands, Liang. Stick around long enough this time and you might even get rid of that Blood Country stink.”

Liang tensed. She felt it in his back where her hand was curled in his t-shirt against his spine.

Sunny smiled, more friendly than threatening. Why was everyone so scared of him? “What? You thought you would know about me, and I wouldn’t know about you? Tell your cousin hello from us.”

Liang nodded tightly and took a few more steps back before turning, his arm slung around her shoulders and walking them toward that invisible territory line in the city.

“And Ruby,” Sunny called. She looked back to see him sliding his hands into his pockets. “I’m sorry if they scared you. You’re welcome over whenever you want.” His smile became a grin, brilliant and true. “Even if you want to bring your mate with you.”

Liang didn’t stop walking or even look back, but she managed to watch just long enough to see half a dozen shadows move around Sunny.

When they were back on the busier streets, still walking deeper into the lights and crowds, Ruby looked up at Liang beside her. “Why do they keep calling you my mate?”

Liang snorted, his own smile back. “That’s your first question?”

“It seems like a good one…”

“Because you smell like me.”

“So?” she argued. She smelled like him? She tried to discreetly tuck her chin and sniff at her hoodie. It’s not like it could be a bad smell. Liang smelled amazing.

He tugged her tighter into his side and dropped his head to bury a kiss against her hair. “Because you smell a lot like me, Red. Even a tracker would be hard-pressed to tell us apart at this point.”

[madd-nix]

Reuniting, Better Late Than Never

Chapter 1

What if Legends Arceus didn't take place as far back as we thought? What if a few of the younger characters are still alive? This is just me wanting Dawn and Ingo to get the chance to reunite with a few of their friends once they've come back to present day.

(Chapter 2 can be found here, and there's a link to the Ao3 page for it in one of my reblogs in the tags.)

Words: 1,644

Rating: PG (ask to tag)

Rei stood in the kitchen of his small home, preparing some tea for himself. The small Purugly that he now had as a pet purred as she rubbed her head against his leg.

He chuckled and scratched behind her ears, then made his way back to the living room with his teacup. His old partner Pikachu - eventually Raichu once he evolved - had passed on many years ago. He has since retired from battling, so this Purugly was simply here to keep him company.

Together, he and Purugly sat down on his couch and turned on the TV, although it was more to provide background noise, since he didn't really feel like watching anything in particular. The news was on and he just barely paid enough attention to hear as the anchorman went on again about how the champion of Sinnoh had finally returned just a few days ago. He couldn't help but smile a little to himself at that.

Some time passed, and he was just about to doze on the couch after having finished his tea. Purugly was purring contently on his lap, and as long as he wasn't expecting a call from his granddaughter, this was the perfect time for a nap. However, life had other plans for him apparently. There was a loud, anxious knock on the door. Rei groaned and his Purugly let out a low, annoyed meow.

"It's unlocked! Come on in!" he called.

The door opened and his great-granddaughter came storming in, followed by her mother, his granddaughter.

"Dawn, I'm so glad to see you're back home and safe! Your mother called me in tears just the other day saying you finally came home, and I was wondering when you'd come visit your old great-grandpa," Rei said cheerfully.

Dawn stared at him with a look Rei had never seen on her face before. It was a mix of recognition, relief, and some other emotion he couldn't quite read, and her eyes were wet with unshed tears. She wasn't looking at him as her great-grandpa. She was seeing him as someone else.

"Rei..... you're alive!" Dawn cried out.

She then ran forward and launched herself at him. Purugly luckily moved just in time so she wouldn't get squished as Rei caught Dawn in his arms. She hugged him tightly as she buried her face on his shoulder. He smiled as he gently rubbed her back.

"So, you finally realized who I am. It's good to see you again, Dawn."

It was certainly strange. He had watched this girl grow up since the time she was born. He had watched her toddle around as an infant, play in his yard as a child, go to school, and go on her pokemon journey once she had finally come of age. This was his great-granddaughter after all. But this was also his best friend. The girl he could remember following the professor into the village for the first time after having fallen from the sky. He had taught her how to catch pokemon and craft pokeballs, and she taught him how to bond more with his partner Pikachu. They worked together to create the region's first PokeDex. And he could still remember the day she left with that Pearl Clan warden.

"Rei?" Rei looked up at the sound of his name. The voice was so familiar despite not having heard it for decades. Standing in the doorway just behind Johanna, was Ingo.

"Warden Ingo, it's been a while," Rei said.

Ingo made his way into the house, probably taking in his appearance. To be fair, to Dawn and Ingo, he had still been just a teenager the last they had seen him. And now here he was as an old man. The change must be a bit jarring.

Ingo awkwardly sat down on the couch beside Rei, while Dawn still held on to him tightly. Rei couldn't help but chuckle a little at how the former warden hadn't changed a bit since he last saw him.

"I can't believe you're still alive," Ingo muttered, uncharacteristically quiet.

"Ha! You're telling me," Rei laughed. "I'm 105 years old and I'm still somehow kicking."

"105 years old?" Ingo's eyes widened. "So it's been..."

"90 years, yeah," Rei finished for him. "It's been quite a while since I last saw you. So, why are you still here in Sinnoh? Or do you live here too?"

"I still don't remember where I live," Ingo explained. "I'm still working on getting my memories back. Until then, Johanna has been kind enough to let me stay with her and Dawn."

"It's the least I could do for you after you helped bring Dawn back," Johanna said as she took a seat on the couch beside Ingo. "And Grandpa, you really were right. Dawn found a way home just like you said."

"Well, I told you I remembered her leaving to return home. I've just been waiting to see when Dawn would realize who I was after she got back."

At this, Dawn looked up at Rei. Her face was covered in tears and her shoulders still shook with repressed sobs.

"I-I can't believe you're m-my great-grandpa!" she cried. "My great-grandpa is my best friend!"

"And my great-granddaughter is my best friend and the hero of Hisui," Rei chuckled. "I've been waiting for the day that I'd get to see you again like this."

Dawn wiped at her face with her sleeve, then moved so she could sit beside him and not on his lap. He still kept an arm around her though.

"S-so... you knew I would get sent to Hisui?" Dawn asked.

"Yes, I did," Rei admitted with a sigh. "And I'm sorry I didn't warn you or prepare you more for it. I didn't want to risk altering the timeline, if that was even possible. As I watched you get older and you grew closer and closer to the young girl I befriended in Hisui, I knew that you were the Dawn I knew back then. Especially after you showed you had the strength to take down Team Galactic and beat Champion Cynthia, I knew where you would be heading eventually. Then your mother called me in a panic some months ago, crying about how you had disappeared. I called her over and explained what was going on. And Johanna, sweetheart, I'm sorry I couldn't have warned you better either."

His granddaughter had been so mad at the time for him keeping Dawn's disappearance a secret. She had yelled at him about how he could've at least said something about it, even just to warn them so they could be prepared for it. But he had been too scared to change the course of history to risk saying anything.

"It's okay, you've already apologized," Johanna said. "I know you didn't want to change things. I'm just glad you filled me in once it happened."

Rei nodded to her, then turned back to Dawn.

"When I heard from your mother that you were back, I told her not to say anything about me. Not until you asked or brought up my name," he explained. "I'm glad it didn't take you too long. I was starting to get impatient after waiting for nine decades." He chuckled, which got a small smile out of Dawn.

"I'm so glad you're still alive," she said. "When I knew that I'd be going back to my time, I thought for sure that... that..."

"That everyone we knew would be long gone," Ingo finished for her. "It really is nice to see that at least one familiar face is still here."

"While most everyone we knew then has passed on, I'm not the only one still alive," Rei said. This got both Dawn and Ingo to sit up a little straighter.

"Who? Who else is alive?" Dawn asked quickly.

"I haven't spoken or written to them in a while, but Lian is still around in Oreburgh City, and Sabi lives up in Snowpoint City. I could give them a call or you could go see them yourselves."

"Lian is still alive?" Ingo asked. His eyes were wide with hope, eager to see the last other living member of his clan.

"He is. Oreburgh isn't too far from here. I'm sure he'd love to see you again."

"And you said Sabi is up in Snowpoint? We could easily fly up there!" Dawn said eagerly. "We have to go see them both and let them know we made it back home!"

"Heh, always on the move, aren't you?" Rei chuckled as he ruffled Dawn's hair. She puffed out her cheeks in annoyance and quickly fixed her hair and adjusted her bandana.

"We can go out to Oreburgh tomorrow, how about that?" Johanna suggested. "Then we can go to Snowpoint a day or two after that."

"Okay!" Dawn nodded determinedly. "But for now, you have to tell me what all we missed in the last 90 years. Did Professor Laventon do more work other than the PokeDex? Did Kamado really disband the Galaxy Team before Cyrus took over?"

"And how was Zisu? She was always such a great sparring partner. Did she continue to work with up and coming trainers?" Ingo added. "And do you know about anyone from the Pearl and Diamond clans?"

"Heh, one question at a time," Rei laughed. "Hold on, I think you both might want to see some of what I've got too."

With a slight grunt and the assistance of his cane, Rei stood up from the couch and walked over to his bookshelf. He looked around for only a moment before his eyes landed on a thick photo album. He grabbed it, then returned to his spot on the couch between Dawn and Ingo.

"I have some photos of everyone over the years. Thought you might like to see them."