#I still try to figure out Loop's eyelashes
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Just a break from drawing something else also figuring out height for Loop that I had in my head while playing
Feat. Paper figures! Those guys are now always here

I also don't have a good place to put their first photo on a tree so here you have it.
They had a tree hangout for a minute or two now because it's dangerous to keep them like that for long
#fanart#sketch#my art#isat#isat fanart#isat siffrin#isat loop#in stars and time#I haven't thought much while sketching Siffrin but he came out pf height it's funny#start again: a prologue#Basically it was me figuring out hiw to differentiate isat Siffrin from sasasa:ap Siffrin#Also some tiny Siffrin sprites redraw#I still try to figure out Loop's eyelashes#Like while making pf of them I had to sketch their eyes separately to figure how to do it#I don't redoy pfs without a reason to#They're oneshot and then I get to live with some minor mistakes if I made them while drawing#Also! The long long Loop I mentioned in the pf post!#Here they are!#Pf Loop next to them looks like a chibi version happy unburdened not traumatized#paper figures#Last moment add
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·˚ ༘ ·If bad, then why does it feel good?˚. ༉‧₊˚ ft. Sylus.

SUM. You happen to share genuine feelings with the supposedly man you hate.
WC. 2.5k
WARNINGS. not mc fem! reader, fluffy smut MDNI, emotional feelings, unprotected sēx, soft needy sēx, enemies to lovers type shit, not proofread.
NOTES. Just sylus. Nothing more.
It always comes down to this.
The constant hatred for him, you want to literally pierce a bullet to his head. Why does he have to smirk everytime you try to throw curses towards him? Why does he have to press those dangerous lips over yours to shut you up?
Why does it feel so good everytime?
Damn him.
Lately, something—someone has been bothering you. A certain hunter from Linkon city who seems to have earn herself some attention from the leader of Onychinus.
You squint your eyes at the memory of their interaction, it was pathetic. He didn't seem to have any hatred for her whatsoever, he even seemed to help her.
Is he really pretending to be the good guy in front of her? Or was it all a facade?
“you're zoning out,” Sylus drawls lazily while tapping a finger on your cheek to bring back your attention to him.
Right, you were trying to kill him, again.
You still had him down against the seat while you were above him, still careful not to perch yourself on his lap. Your index that brushed too closely to the trigger shook even more when his thumb played dangerously close to the trigger, resting right on top of your index finger, and you feel like the air is being taken away from your lungs.
“It seems like this isn't entertaining you anymore,” you shoot him a stare and he raises an eyebrow, “perhaps… miss hunter is being too soft on you.”
You watch at how his eyebrows raise in amusement, he knew he had the upper hand in this situation, and it was clear to him that you did as well.
He noticed your voice change, and how your fingers still trembled against the gun still pointed at his chest. Even in your feigned bravado, you couldn't mask your unease. Too easy.
"My," Sylus' eyes darkened as he looked up at you with the slightest curl of his lips lifting upwards, "Are you.. jealous?”
This is ridiculous, and you feel offended even. “Why the hell would i be jealous of stray cats?” you argue back, and he seems almost pleased by your answer, “atta girl.”
Not being able to handle him anymore, you make the decision to press on the trigger without thinking, that the loud bangcaused you to gasp in fear as you drop the gun from your hand.
So close.
Sylus remained still for a few moments as he glanced to his side at the bullet hole on the seat beside his head.
“You missed.” He stated, like he was disappointed.
“Did you not want me to miss?!”
He smiles, "And spoil the fun? Never." Clearly he was playing with your feelings at this point.
He brought a hand up, his fingers tangling into the messy strands of your hair, pulling firmly enough to tilt your head to the side. His eyes studied your own, his gaze roaming over every part of your expression, trying to figure out what you would do next.
"You should try again." He said lowly, his voice almost a whisper. "Maybe you'll hit me this time.”
You press your lips into a thin line at the proximity between you, and your hands find his shoulders, “you can't die.. yet.”
"Oh, don't you worry, sweetie. I'm not gonna die so easily." He let out a dry laugh as if it was obvious.
"That is, unless you end up killing me.”
The change in your expression didn’t go unnoticed by him, the worry, the concern, the frustration, the anger. It's all so interesting.
His hand left your hair to snake around your waist to finally pull you down on his lap, and that's when he felt your hands come to hold his face so dearly, your eyelashes fluttering between his eyes and lips.
You held him close to you as if he was the only thing that mattered—and he was, really.
You embraced him like you were lovers, like you were holding someone dear in your arms. With your arms looped around his shoulders, to pour all your love into his lips, you always did that whenever you kisses. Always soft, sweet, and slow.
Yet Sylus wanted to return the kiss deeply, his tongue trying to seek yours in a desperate, hungry manner. Like he's never kissed you before.
You part your lips for his tongue to delve further in, exploring every inch of your mouth as if he were trying to memorize the taste, the one he's already used to, but it only seems to be sweeter with each exchanged kiss.
He let out a low moan, feeling completely consumed by you. His hands continued to roam your body, exploring every contour and curve, every dip and valley, as if he was trying to commit you to memory.
You pant softly when his lips leave yours to graze the skin of your jawline and neck, but you tug ay his hair before he could do anything.
“no marks.”
“and why?”
“I can't walk around looking like that—”
Then it hits you, what the hell were you even doing?
You push yourself off him, stumbling slightly back when you stood up abruptly, but you don't reach for the hand that's out for you to balance on.
“This is messed up.” You say your thoughts out loud before you could stop yourself, and your fists clench to your sides.
He leaned forward to follow after you, leaving the warmth of the seat behind him, he then speaks with a tilt of his head, "I'd say what we've been doing is pretty normal for our relationship, wouldn't you?"
You sigh, “normal? What even are we?”
Ah, that question.
"Oh, you know. We’re just enemies with a mutual hatred for each other, who just happen to kiss each other on the regular. Nothing out of the ordinary here, sweetie." His tone dripped with sarcasm, “totally nothing odd here.” you try matching his sarcasm with a glare.
He met your glare with his own gaze, his expression suddenly turning serious.
"Why are you acting like doing this," he gestured between the two of you, "is something completely new? Has it ever occurred to you that doing this may actually feel good?" He paused for a moment, watching your expression twist into confusion, “you say you hate me, but let me ask you this: what do you feel when you're around me? Hate, or something else entirely?”
"I—” you press your lips shut when you realise you don't even know the answer to that. How did he feel about this?
"it feels like a drug yet I can't let go off." You settle with your answer quietly.
He takes a slow step forward, “you make it sound like an addiction, sweetie.”
“it is an addiction.” you confirm bluntly, and his smirk widens further.
“Mm, a drug you can't let go of.”
“A drug i need to let go of.”
He stops at his tracks, "You,” Sylus stares down at you, “think you can just let go of me that easily?" He asked, before moving closer, his body practically looming over yours now, trapping you against the wall. His hand came up to rest on the wall beside your head, his arm caging you in.
You're trapped, with nowhere to go, “i made a mistake, I'll leave—”
“No.” he captured your wrist in a tight grip when you tried making your way out.
Sylus’ grip on your wrist loosened when you winced the first time he grabbed it, his hand shifting down instead to intertwine his fingers with yours.
"You really think I'd just let you walk out that door and never see you again? You must be joking," he scoffs, his tone taking a lower route, and you're surprised.
"You're... you're mine, damnit.”
You blink twice, “since.. when?”
He lets out a sharp exhale, his patience and self-control slowly fading. "Since our first shared kiss," he practically growls out, "you may be a difficult, infuriating, little brat, but goddamnit if you're not mine.”
Sylus can see the range of emotions flickering across your face as you digest his words, those same expressions he always sees, this time, it's all anger and frustration.
"You look like you're about to explode, darling," he says, his voice coming out in a mocking drawl. "Want to shout at me? Let it out. Tell me how much you hate me again, because we both know that's bullshit.”
“it's no—”
“don't even try to lie to me,”
“i hate y—”
“lying, again.”
“Sylus.” You let out sharply, you were getting tired or him cutting you off.
He listens, it doesn't feel too shocking now. You're just.. overwhelmed.
Do you feel like crying? Yes. Do you want to really cry in front of him? No, of course not. But the tears threatening around your eyes is too hard to wipe off now.
And Sylus tenses when he realized the gravity of the situation, he doesn't waste time to lift your chin up. And the sight makes his heart ache abnormally.
“don't,” he whispers softly before taking you in a warm embrace, where your face us pressed against his chest.
You exhale, the hug is genuine, it feels like he's hugging your heart. You wrap you arms back around him, no wonder you always feel your little heart beating around him.
"we're both stubborn, hot-headed, and too proud to back down," He whispers against your hair, “But beloved, i… am sorry if i failed to see your genuine feelings.”
You tighten your arms around him, beloved, you like the sound of that.
You tip your head back up, and you can notice the way his eyes seem to soften… like that one snowy time.
And you lean to peck his lips, it makes him smile before he returns the kiss with a gentle press of his lips onto yours.
…
You mentally agreed with yourself that you would stop at kissing. Only a few kisses here and there… It felt too easy and natural to listen to his whispers
Your eyes rolled back almost every time he nudged against your sweet spot, making your jaw slack, and you don't let go off the hem of his blouse for not even a second with how of a tight hold you had on the fabric.
You would both get like this everytime your emotions were heightened. You crave this, it's a need at this point.
But this time it's different, it doesn't feel like two beasts ravishing eachother, this feels… slow, and romantic.
You both were not even fully undressed.
"Sylus," you whispered breathlessly, followed by a soft whine with how full you felt with the inches buried deep inside you.
spreading your legs even wider, Sylus pushed himself deeper until you took all of him. His hands caressing your trembling thighs, "Feel me, what you do to me." His hips snapped forward in a slow rhythm, grinding against your sensitive clit with each thrust.
Sweat glistened on his skin as he worked you over, oh how tortuous it felt with you clenching around him, your slick walls fluttering and massaging his aching cock. The wet sounds of your skins filled the room, obscene and erotic.
Sylus reveled in it, in the knowledge that he was the one making you break so beautifully.
Leaning in, he captured your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your desperate moans. His tongue delved into your mouth, claiming you thoroughly as his hips continued their slow rhythm—threatening to just thrust in fast and hard.
Yet he knew better than to ruin the moment.
Breaking the kiss, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your intoxicating scent. "Do you want to cum?" he murmured huskily, his words vibrating against your skin. "I want to feel you come all over my cock." His fingers found your clit, rubbing firm circles over the sensitive nub but your hand tries to pry his fingers away, you didn't want this to end just yet.
“Please no, i-i want to feel more of you.. harder.” a plea, and he swears you're going to be the death of him.
"Greedy princess, aren't you? Wanting more of me even when you're already stuffed full." He punctuated his words with a particularly deep thrust, grinding his pelvis against yours. You could feel every thick, hard inch of him buried inside you, stretching you deliciously.
His hands now gripped your hips bruisingly tight as he started to move faster, harder. Just like you wanted, he was only following along.
"I'll give you more, sweetie. I'll fuck you so deep, so hard, you'll feel me for days," Sylus promised with a chuckle, and you arch your back while pulling at the fabric of his blouse, "gonna ruin this pussy until it's molded perfectly to my cock."
True to his word, he picked up the pace, pounding into you relentlessly. And you wanted to scream.
“h-hah, right there—” your head rolled back and your lips stayed parted, your eyes half-lidded and you could barely feel your legs.
Sylus could feel his own release fast approaching, his balls drawing up tight, but he gritted his teeth, holding himself back. He wanted to make you come first, wanted to feel your slick walls spasming around him.
"That's it, sweetie" he panted, “Mmh—ah—!” and you cry out when you came, it felt different, you feel wetter than before, you just squirted without even realising from how fucked out your head was.
Sylus groaned as he felt you gushing all over his crotch, your body quivering and quaking in the throes of your intense orgasm. "Fuuuck, that's it my love, let it all out," he rasped, continuing to thrust into your fluttering heat as you rode out the waves of pleasure.
As your climax subsided, leaving you boneless and panting, Sylus slowed his thrusts but didn't stop. He rolled his hips in deep, languid strokes, savoring the feeling of your slick walls clenching around his throbbing length.
Sylus drank in your needy whimpers and moans with messy kisses this time, “I love you," he babbled, and you barely comprehend what he had just said.
And with a final thrust, Sylus buried himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself deep inside you. He groaned long and low, his hips twitching with each spurt of his release into you.
You both gaze into eachother's eyes after calming down, your eyes trying to search for the love in them.
“what are you starting at?” You mumble first, breaking the silence. He caresses your cheek at first, “etching your face in my head.” His answer was simple, yet it meant too much to you.
“Did you mean it?” You can't help but ask, “when you said you.. love me?”
Sylus’ lips spread before pressing a kiss to your forehead, “i love you.” He whispered his declaration of love to you quietly for the second time.
#sylus smut#sylus x reader#lads smut#lads sylus#sylus lads#lads x reader#love and deepspace#love and deepspace x reader#love and deepspace sylus#sylus love and deepspace#sylus#lnds sylus#lnds#sylus x you#lads x you
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when in rome

words: 1.7k
warnings: 18+ only!, smut!, p in v sex, unprotected sex, female receiving oral, mentions of a blowjob, plane sex, mile high club woohoo!, cheating, not a happy ending!, angst
“hello.” you smile at the handsome man as the flight attendant guides him to his seat, and you’re glad its next to yours.
“hey.” he smiles right back and you swear you fall in love at that moment. “i’m rafe.”
“y/n.” you can feel your face flush, and you pray that its a cute blush rather than a full red face.
“nice to meet you.” he adjusts how he's sitting. you figure that due to his height it must be uncomfortable to fly, even if he is flying business class. “gonna get to know each other real well, huh?”
“yeah, seems like it.” you giggle. you find yourself going from dreading the 8 hour nonstop flight to looking forward to it as you fall into easy conversation with rafe.
“so, what are your plans in italy?” he asks you.
“ah, vacation mostly. i have some distant family i’m going to visit but its really just a fun trip for me. what about yourself?” “business.” rafe sighs. you should have been able to guess by his outfit, everything about him reads business man, even though he’s clearly on the younger side, you guess not much older than yourself.
“you’ll get some time to see a bit of the sights at least, right?” you ask hopefully.
“i will definitely find time if you’re the one showing them to me.” rafe smirks at you, making the flirtation clear, giving you the go ahead to bat your eyelashes right back at him.
--
“this-” you gasp. “this isn’t what i had in mind when you said show you the sights. thought you meant like the trevi fountain or-” your mind is completely blank of other attractions to see in rome, despite that being your whole reason for visiting. you’re far too overwhelmed with rafe between your thighs.
“mmm, this sight is all i wanna see.” he leans forward to press a kiss to your clit before darting his tongue out and flicking over it, movements still teasingly light like they have been for the past ten minutes.
“feels so good.” you moan. even with keeping his movements so gentle, its still evident rafe has a talented mouth.
he finally leans in fully, lips wrapping around your clit as he sucks the sensitive flesh into his mouth. your hands reach for his hair, grabbing onto the dirty blond strands.
you try to keep your moans quiet as rafe eats you out, you really do, for the sake of the people staying in the hotel rooms next to yours, but you simply can’t help when you moan out, his sucking forcing it out of you.
“can’t wait to get inside this cute little hole.” rafe smirks, tongue moving down to your entrance, finally showing it some appreciation. he laps over your cunt, unashamed to slurp and swallow your juices, shocked how wet you are (although he shouldn’t be after teasing you for so long).
“i can’t wait to feel your dick.” you moan, hands tightening on his hair but rafe doesn’t complain as you push his face forward, finally conceding and sticking his tongue into your entrance, feeling your gummy walls against the muscle as he begins to thrust it in and out.
rafe continues for as long as he possibly can, even grinds into the bed slightly to hold off from how badly he needs to give his dick attention, but he can’t take it anymore.
you are completely naked while rafe is still fully dressed, now kneeling between your legs. he works on the buttons of his shirt first before tossing it away, undoing his belt buckle while keeping his eyes locked with yours until he’s able to slide it out of the loops, also joining his shirt somewhere on the floor.
he’s built for a businessman, muscles gleaming in the low light as he works his pants and underwear off next until his hard cock is revealed, standing upright away from his body with pride.
“wanna suck you.” you begin to sit up, but rafe pushes your waist gently back down against the bed.
“you can suck me off after showing me the trevi fountain tomorrow. need to get inside you.”
“tomorrow?” you smile. you weren’t sure when you called his number after exchanging them on the plane if he would even pick up, let alone find time to come and see you while in rome. “aren’t you busy?” “don’t care what my boss says.” rafe simply shrugs. “not if it means getting more time with you.”
its strangely romantic for someone who is basically a complete stranger to say, but the thought is quickly swept out of your head when rafe drapes himself over your body, his cock rubbing through your slick folds.
“condom.” you suddenly realize, eyes widening.
“shit, i don’t have one.” rafe groans, still rubbing his cock against you. “please, baby.” “i-i guess its fine.” you’re on the pill, but you only met rafe a few days ago, and unprotected sex would be completely out of the question if you weren’t so desperate for him to plunge his dick inside of you.
“thank you, baby.” rafe says, the nickname rolling like butter off his tongue, making your eyes flutter closed.
he reaches down with one hand, lining his cock up with your entrance before sinking in, both voices joining in a chorus as you moan out.
“fuck, you’re so tight. feels so good.” rafe praises you, his hand reaching to grip your tit in is large hand, encompassing so much of your chest.
“mmm, slow.” you flinch slightly, still adjusting to how big he feels inside of you, stretching at your walls. “slow at first please.”
rafe nods, hips barely moving as he rocks in and out, dropping himself lower to press a kiss to your lips, quickly turning into a makeout session until rafe just can’t keep the slow pace anymore.
“you’re good.” you tell rafe, who has been slowly increasing his tempo since you started kissing.
“thank god.” he moans, hips going from soft swings to instant heavy pounding, thrusting wildly up into you. you let out an involuntary squeal as you reach up above your head, gripping the headboard as rafe repositions himself slightly, now kneeling with your hips held firmly in his big hands, holding you up so he gets the perfect angle to hammer inside of you.
you moan as you feel your high building, never having been able to from just penetration before, but rafe is hitting a spot inside of you that you swear no man has ever touched before, and when you feel him release inside of you, your own orgasm forces itself out too with a scream.
--
“i mean what are the chances we have the same flight back.” you laugh. you’re not sat next to each other like before, but you do plan on asking to move seats so rafe can keep you preoccupied again.
“i know.” he smirks, leaning forward to press a kiss to the edge of your mouth. “can’t wait to fuck you in the bathroom.”
you roll your eyes at him at the moment, but you do let him take you into the bathroom when the lights dim for everyone else to sleep, easily enticed by his blue eyes.
“gotta be quiet for real now baby.” rafe says, having somehow maneuvered both of your clothes off in the small room.
his hips are thrusting up into yours, his palm covering your mouth, seeing by the gloss in your eyes that you’re already too far gone to hold your noises back. thankfully, your hands are still able to grip the edge of the sink to keep yourself steady.
“can’t be like in the hotel room.” he smirks. you eventually got a noise complaint on your fourth night there, but the hotel associate simply asked you to keep it down before retreating, probably intimidated by the fact that rafe still had very little on when answering the door.
“wanna kiss you so bad, gotta promise me you won’t moan the second i take my hand away.” rafe says, looking into your eyes.
you nod, batting your eyelashes at him in a way that has him instantly conceding, hand dropping away from your mouth, quickly being replaced by his own lips, still not trusting you fully, especially when he uses his newly freed hand to reach between your bodies and rub your clit.
rafe manages to dampen your moans that flow into his mouth as he pumps up faster, still without a condom, having never gotten around to buying them between working and trying to spend every spare moment inside of you, only agreeing to see the sights so your bodies could both recover before fucking again.
“close.” you whimper. rafe smiles, hes learned your body so well in such a short period of time, he was able to tell just from the way your cunt began to pulsate around his cock that your high was almost upon you.
rafe moves faster, the sink squeaking slightly until your body tenses briefly before turning into a tremble, clit pulsing under his finger as rafe lets out a low moan, lodging himself as deep within you as he can before cumming.
you feel blissed out, elated for the rest of the flight, even managing to catch some sleep while leaning against rafes shoulder. you don’t even think about what is going to happen after you land back in america, how you are going somewhere different than where rafe is.
you walk out of the plane right behind him, expecting him to turn and take your hand like he did when walking around rome, or to turn around ask you if you’d like to chat and have some coffee, maybe even kiss you and pull you into a random secluded lounge.
but he does none of those things, simply keeps on walking. you follow him, tears starting to swell in your eyes.
they fall when a girl runs up to him, her long blond waves flowing as she jumps into his arms, pressing a kiss to his lips that rafe instantly accepts like he hasn’t been kissing you for the past week.
“i’ve missed you so much, rafey!” she squeals. you’re not sure if its her words or the high pitch of her voice that causes you to stagger back.
rafe still doesn’t look back as he walks away, doesn’t turn to see you fall to your knees, doesn’t witness the way sobs rack your body.
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Rambling some theories about @askoverkill AU~
1) Bodies from the previous loops stay. Not sure if it's just previous outer loops or both inner and outer loops. Currently have this theory is because the skeleton under the rock. Very conspicuous that the spot where Siffrins die first has a degraded corpse. We could be seeing more bodies from now on.
2) Dusk was the previous Siffrin before Dawn. (Which makes sense tbh. Dawn being the one now starting while Dusk is losing). I was trying to figure out their role in this AU, but looking back at the intro, the Siffrin who holds the star looks VERY similiar to Dusk's outfit.




The main differences are 1) under clothes are different (which could be just a design change or just a sign of depression. Who knows) and 2) the flowers on the hat, which I suspect Lupus gave him. Other than that, the hats are both pointy, the hair is placed nearly EXACTLY the same, they both have six eyelashes instead of the usual Siffrin three, the collar is very distinctive, and the triangles on the cloak. And considering how even the background Siffrins in the intro are very distinctive, it can't be a coincidence that there are so many similarities between the intro Siffrin and Dusk. Dusk has to have been the previous Siffrin, but how much Dusk remembers of the previous outer loop.... I'm not sure. (In many ways this makes Dusk more of the Loop parallel than even Loop. Overkill AU Loop has been through so much that everything is detached at this point. Dusk meanwhile... for them the feelings of self identity are probably all still raw).
Also uh. This ask? Anon asks if every Siffrin who gives up loses their he/hims and the answer is "Dusk still has their pronouns despite everything". So uh. Implication that they're a Siffrin who gave up!!!!
3) The Director is a bad end act 5 Siffrin. There's another post that goes more into this, made by 3rd-shrike. I'm convinced this is the case especially since Loop has been confirmed to still have been sasasaap Siffrin. So that means the ISAT timeline very likely has to have happened as well (ie: we're not starting from scratch with the timeline in this au).
4) This has to end with Siffrin choosing self care. The entire AU is Siffrin throwing himself into a death chamber for the sake of their friends, choosing to become meat for the meat grinder despite everyone telling him to stop. This can only end if they choose not to go in.
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✩ ˛˚ . NAGI SEISHIRO ; — you think it’s cute how much your boyfriend seems to enjoy your cuddles.
warnings! none! sfw & ticklish lil spoon nagi, hes written as a pro football player in this. ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! i’m sorry i just had to get this soft lil scenario out of my mind <3
as big as your boyfriend nagi is, 190cm and looming — a pro football player with the physique to match, you thought it was cute the way he loved being little spoon.
there was something charming about it, about the way he always seemed to flop down next to you when you were lying in your shared bed — reaching blindly behind him until he can grab hold of your wrist and pull it around his waist instead. you push yourself closer and you hear the snowy haired striker sigh when your chest presses against his back, snug and tight.
“you sleepy, seishiro?” your voice is light, a little dreamy and it makes nagi’s eyelashes flutter with his next slow blink, nodding into his pillow as his hand stays wrapped tightly around yours to keep you in place around him. “was practice hard?” you ask again, squeezing your arms around your boyfriends waist and he shudders before he’s nuzzling himself even closer to you.
“eh, yeah. all the running is such a drag. jus’ wanna relax now.” his words are muffled from where his cheek is pressed against the pillow but you still hear him mumble something affirming under his breath when your hand traces under the hem of his shirt, letting your fingernails smooth along the plains of his toned abdomen as he whimpers. “hey, keep doing that. just for a while, feels sooo good.”
so you do, you push yourself closer until your lips are pressed against the dip of nagi’s shoulder, bathing the striker in featherlight touches along his chest and stomach until his breathing turns a little softer. your hands trace to his sides and he twitches slightly at the ticklish touch before he’s groaning and sending you a drowsy, lidded look and a pout from over his shoulder. “ah, that’s mean.”
“you’re ticklish?” you giggle as you press your lips into your boyfriends neck from behind and he presses back into you again before he’s turning to send you another look, one that you recognise as a wordless little request for a kiss despite the way his messy bed head rests along his features.
“nah, ‘m not.” nagi huffs against your lips when you lean in but he almost whines when you pull away a few moments later, his hand around your own squeezing slightly like he’s trying to bring you back into him. “why’d you stop? no fair.” he sighs followed by another pout and you can’t help but smile at how needy he seems to get when he’s sleepy before you’re giving him another.
“okay~” you sing into the next kiss but the tender moment only lasts a second longer before you’re deliberately swiping your fingers along your boyfriends sides again, laughing when it makes him jolt slightly followed by a long, drawn out huff.
“ow, y’re such a pain.” you feel nagi pull your hand away from him before his huge figure is turning to face you, sleepy features pulled into the cutest frown before his arms are looping around your waist and he’s pulling you close so he can nuzzle into the crook of your neck instead.
“you’re so mean!” you reply and you hear him grumble something into your skin when you pinch at his before its followed by a featherlight press of his lips against your collarbone, like he’s doing damage control despite the way your words were a joke. but he’s sleepy and you’re warm so he’s just trying to make you feel better anyway.
“don’t you want dinner?” you already know what the answers going to be so you busy yourself with brushing through his hair, making his eyes close softly as his lashes kiss along your skin with each of his slow blinks. his hands push under the hem of your shirt and you think it’s cute the way he seems to instinctively draw little shapes into your skin, wobbly hearts and little choki outlines that seem to grow messier the more he melts into you. but they keep his hands busy when he’s not playing video games.
“nah, jus’ wanna cuddle here for the rest of the day, ‘m comfy now so moving would be bothersome.”
© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.
#݁ . ࿓ : sealed#blue lock x reader#blue lock fluff#blue lock x you#bllk x reader#bllk fluff#bllk x you#nagi x reader#nagi fluff#nagi x you#nagi seishiro fluff#nagi seishiro x reader#nagi seishiro x you
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The Moment Of Heat || Sam Winchester
Paring: Sam Winchester x gn!reader
Summary: dying day after day is going to be the death of you, ironic right?
Warnings: swearing
Word Count: 1.2k
p.s. based on season 3 ep 11 (mystery spot) and part 2 of the Heat of the Moment series
p.s.s. read part one here
༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶
You let the brothers deal with interviewing the people in the Mystery Spot as you were a little preoccupied scanning literally everything that could potentially kill you. A lady accidentally bumped into you and you about pissed your pants.
You shoot nervous and pleading glances at Sam hoping they will finish up soon. Finally, they walk up to you and tell you about their findings, or lack thereof, before you walk outside.
You can tell that Dean is still having a hard time wrapping his head around all of this. "So we die at the same time and then you two wake up and repeat the day again?" You and Sam, who you have now realized is walking very close to you, nod in agreement. You can see that Dean has an idea by the smug look on his face. "Okay! So let's just make sure we don't die. If we make it to tomorrow, then maybe the loop stops and we can figure all this out."
Sam looks at Dean like he has two heads before turning to you. "I think it's worth a shot." You say while shrugging, "I say we grab some takeout and head back to the motel, lay low until midnight."
Dean starts walking backwards with a big smile on his face. "All right, good. Who wants Chinese?" That puts a smile on your face as you skip happily next to Dean, ready to finally get a chance to eat, but you don't even make it three more steps before a big ass table falls from the sky onto both of you.
You wake up again fucking pissed you rush to get ready and meet up with Sam again at the dinner. After telling Dean what happened once again you guys start coming up with theories.
"So, uh ... If you're stuck in "Groundhog Day", why? What's behind it?" Dean asks while you lean your head against Sam, who doesn't say anything but slightly moves so that you can be comfortable, which you appreciate.
"Well, first I thought it was the Mystery Spot. Now I'm not so sure." Sam sighs remembering how you jumped whenever someone looked in your direction. He just wished that they could figure this out soon so you could stop suffering.
Dean looks between the two of you before asking what Sam's plan is. "Well, we keep you guys breathing. Try to make it to tomorrow. I mean, that's the only thing I can think of." Dean looks around smugly, "Shouldn't be too hard."
You let out a big sigh and lean even further into Sam, "Says you. Your memory gets wiped clean. You don't have to wake up every day knowing you're just going to die again."
They both look at you with pity clear on their faces. Sam wraps his arm around you while Dean tries to find a way to cheer you up. "Well, nothing's set in stone. You say I order the same thing every day, right?" You hum in agreement.
"Excuse me!" Dean calls out to Doris batting his eyelashes at her, "Can I get sausage instead of bacon?" Doris yells back agreeing to his request. He turns around to both of you smugly, "See? Different day already. You see if you and I decide that I am not gonna die – I'm not gonna die."
Doris brings over Dean's order, complete with his sausage, which he immediately starts to choke on. Panic crosses your features as a metallic taste starts to form in your mouth. You quickly move away from Sam as blood starts to flood your mouth.
Sam watches you and Dean struggle to breathe feeling helpless as he calls out to you both. He turns your face to look at him, "Meet us at Wartburg Lodge room 27! Okay!?"
You try to give a thumbs up but you are waking up in your bed gasping for air before you even get a chance. Quickly, you get dressed and start making your way to the lodge, but you barely get a few blocks away before you are hit by a bus.
When you wake up again you contemplate even trying to leave your apartment, but then you think about being alone all day and that scares you even more so you start your journey to the lodge once more.
You didn't even make it to the front door of your apartment building before you died.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
You wake up and die again. Gas explosion, then a burglary gone wrong. Dead, dead, dead, dead. It didn't matter what you and Sam did, nothing worked. You and Dean died every time. Every. Single. Time.
Sam was your only saving grace at this point. On the days where you guys lasted a little longer than usual were spent with casual chatter between the two of you, which eventually turned into flirting. Now you and Sam are teetering on the edge of a weird never-ending relationship.
Walking into the dinner you slide yourself into the booth with Sam as he casually puts his arm around you and pulls you in closer to his side almost protectively. You lean your head on his shoulder as you listen to him tell Dean for the literal hundredth time about what is happening to you guys.
After the stupid argument they have every day, you guys take your normal walk. Sam intertwines his fingers with yours as you name all of the things that are going to happen. Then something extraordinary happens. Dean breaks the cycle.
He asks the blonde lady about the fliers in her hands.
"A hundred Tuesdays and you never bothered to check what she was holding in her hands?" Sam shrugs as Dean holds up the flyer. It's a missing poster for a guy named Dexter Hasselback. "That's his daughter back there." Sam grabs the flyer and runs after the blonde girl.
You stay back with Dean to try and keep him from doing anything stupid to get you guys killed again, but when you look over at him he's already trying to make friends with the dog tied near you. You try to stop him but it's too late.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
You are with Sam in the booth again, but this time he brought his computer with him. You look over his shoulder as he reads the article out loud. "So the police report says Dexter Hasselback is a professor, but that's not all he is. I talked to his daughter. Guy's quite the journalist. Columns in magazines, a blog."
You look up as the man at the counter leaves. 'Does he always do that?' You watch as he walks past the window, no longer interested in the boy's conversation.
You guys stand up from the booth and you look at the now empty spot at the counter noticing something new. You pull on Sam's jacket sleeve and point to the now empty chair. Dean looks between the two of you confused. "What's wrong?"
Sam starts to pull you out of the dinner and after the guy. "This guy has maple syrup for the last hundred Tuesdays, all of a sudden he's having strawberry?"
Dean jogs slightly to catch up with the two of you letting out a sarcastic comment. "It's a free country. Man can't choose his own syrup, huh? What have we become?"
Sam shakes his head aggressively, speeding up even more. "Not in this diner. Not today. Nothing in this place ever changes. Ever. Except y/n and I."
Sadly, that would not be the day you catch the man, Dean getting hit by another car sealed your fate, however, you had faith the next day would bring answers.
#x reader#gender neutral reader#x gn reader#sam winchester x gn!reader#sam winchester x y/n#sam winchester x reader#sam winchester#dean winchester#supernatural x reader#supernatural
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⸝⸝ Oh treacherous heart, set me free ♡.ᐟ
pairing: sebastian romano x gabriel castillo 𓂃 ✫ [word count: approx. 11'050]: angst with comfort (a lot of yearning) ✶ content warning: homophobia, mention of death, violence ─── very ooc!characters, a few sentences in italian and spanish ── no beta (ignore any mistake) we die like like gabriel's mother ─ ao3 link
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀[all these people think love's for show,] ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀[but I would die for you in secret]
The tired rays of the setting sun swam beneath the sheets of the room, stretching out until they enveloped the four walls, dancing across the surfaces of the drawers, illuminating the two men’s nervously fidgeting figures. Their shadows seemed to have a mind of their own, sprawling across the walls and chasing each other freely, as if mocking the emotions each of them kept locked inside, hidden like a poison they couldn’t be seen with. “See?”, they seemed to whisper, “It’s easy, reach out – it’s just at your fingertips”.
“If you keep fidgeting like that, someone is going to think you actually care about impressing these people,” Gabriel drawled, straightening his lapels with an ease Seb hated. He stood in front of the mirror, and he picked up the brush, combing back his hair in a way that made Sebastian laugh. The man replied with a smirk, smoothing out the faint creases of his suit, his tanned skin contrasting with the soft beige Gabriel had picked out for him. “You care about impressing them, which means I should at least try and not ruin everything’’, he replied, trying (and failing) to win his battle against the tie. Seriously, one would think that the heir of a mob would be able to do that with ease, but alas, as he almost dropped the tie again, a smile stretched across his face as Gabriel approached him, silently taking the material from his hands and helping him. He placed the tie around his neck, crossing the wide end over the narrow end with the kind of ease of a man that had spent his whole life doing it. As he looped it, he hummed softly, and Sebastian asked, ‘What are you humming?”. He looked down at him, eyes widening as if he hadn’t realized. ‘Oh sorry, it’s just something my mother used to sing to me”. At that, Sebastian smiled, and Gabriel pulled the wide end of the tie downwards and slid the knot up towards his neck. ‘Gabe, are you trying to kill me?”, Sebastian asked with a smile, his voice teasing, drawing out his words and enunciating every syllable of his name in a way that made Gabriel’s hands still, his mind malfunctioning. God, his voice, he thought. Could temptation slither into someone’s voice? Sebastian noticed his flushed cheeks, smirked and leaned slightly back, and added, “What will they say when you appear with a corpse, Mr. Castillo?”. At that, Gabriel laughed, and he thought that for sure he was going to bite the apple one day. “Knowing how crazy those people are, I probably wouldn’t even be the first one to have such a companion”, he said, tightening the knot, leaning in closer, brows furrowed in concentration. His fingers brushed against Seb’s throat as he adjusted the tie, quick and efficient, as if this was ritualistic, something they did each day — or perhaps it was his wishful thinking blurring the lines of his desire and his reality. His touch lingered for just a second too long, warm fingers releasing their warmth in the form of pink blush that slipped onto Seb’s face. It was barely noticeable, maybe not even intentional, but Seb felt it like a brand. Suddenly it was all too much as if the air in the room had escaped, trying to give the lovers some space.
He watched how Gabe’s eyelashes fluttered a few times, as if he had been lost in thoughts, strayed in a world Seb didn’t have the key to. He wondered, as his own hands hovered between the space, the mere inches, that separated them, if he could ever even dream of owning it or partaking in his adventures. Could he allow himself to be as selfish as to hope to be a companion of each and every existence Gabe got lost into? To be perhaps the engineer of his worlds, to linger in the spaces inbetween, to construct landscapes that began with the earthy colour of his eyes and ended with skies dipped in the shades of his soft lips? Could it be enough to exist, and not have that? To wake up beside him, to bump against him in the kitchen, to let his hands linger on the basketball for just a moment too long when he reached for it, to let his arms tighten around his waist when driving, hands dangerously close to his heart, as if trying to read the truth between each beat? To love him, and let himself fall off the edge, while Gabe strayed away?
His fingers twitched, aching to close the distance, to curl around Gabriel’s wrist and hold him there — not just in the moment, not just for that day, but always. He wanted to hold him closer, kiss his collarbone till purple shades resembled the pearls of a necklace. He ached to dissolve into his soft whispers and let his hands write stories on the shore of his hips till the waves drowned him. To part his lips and kiss the one he’d so often dreamed of. In his dreams, they laid on the bed, their bed, and Gabriel whispered soft ‘I love you’-s between the gap of his eyebrows, etching the words beneath his navel, and grunted between his legs. In his dreams, he loved him, and he was loved too. In his dreams, he listened to Gabriel’s heartbeat, knowing it was the soundtrack of their life, and he traced lines on his skin with his lips, asking each peck to please carry his love in Gabriel’s arteries, so as to never make him doubt.
But that was in his dreams, a kingdom he could only access when Morpheus came to take him.
So he shook away his thoughts. His eyes darted from Gabriel’s eyes to his lips, quickly, almost imperceptibly, unless you were Gabriel, who was closely analyzing each reaction and movement Sebastian had, as if he was a starved man whose only salvation was the proof that Sebastian existed, right there, right in front of him. If Sebastian was a selfish man, he would’ve pulled him closer, till his legs made place for the other man’s body, till his fingers curled into Gabriel’s hair, till his lexicon was made solely out of the shape of his name. But Sebastian had been selfish a lot in his life, a necessary trait at times for a leader of the mob, eliminating threats while keeping evidences of worser crimes closer to his chest, till his role replaced the organ in his thoracic cage, till the red flushed down his hands and washed away the softness typical of childhood. Till his limbs were mere weapons.
And if his smile looked a little too tight, if his fingers ghosted over his wedding ring as he turned away — well.
Seb wasn’t the only one pretending.
Gabriel stepped away, clearing his throat, a faint blush treacherously daring to rise, enveloping the soft traits of his face. “Well, umh, are you ready?”, he asked, but when his eyes caught his own reflection in the mirror, one could’ve sworn he was the recipient of his own question. They needed to attend a party to solidify Gabriel’s role as shareholder, and he dreaded it more than anything. He knew Isabella and Chad would be there, flaunting their relationship at him and every breathing human who had the misfortune of catching their eyes. As if their relationship didn’t exist if they didn't talk about it. As if it wasn’t real if it wasn’t displayed like two bad actors trying to convince the world of something, overacting the lines of a script no one cared about. And it wasn’t as if he felt a pang when Isabella's hands wrapped around Chad’s neck to pull him closer for a kiss. No, he had long replaced the hurt with just indifference. It didn’t edge towards hate, nor did it sway in the waves of acrimony — it was pure insouciance. Sure, just a fortnight ago, Gabriel had believed he had loved her, that she truly was his future, in every sense of the word, but through the separation he had realized that it never was that. He had tried to love her, and he truly thought he did, but love isn’t supposed to be transactional, it’s not a means to an end. In a way, the conclusion of their chapter together had been the start of his life. He didn’t have to care about his father, or how he would appear to others. He could finally live his life. And – It wasn’t Isabella his heart begged for when he lay awake at night, not daring to toss around so as to not wake the man lying just a few pillows away from him. It had been Chad’s besmirched, demanding, grubby lingering on Sebastian’s wrist that had nearly made him lose his temper. Chad had circled him like a predator assessing the damage he could do, the flesh he could tear, the hedonistic pleasures he could extract as if Sebastian was an energy source to be used over and over. He had never felt such anger before with Isabella, but with Sebastian, it had almost become his second nature. All his life, all Gabriel had wanted was recognition. A muttered praise, accidental accolades slipping from someone’s lips. And all his life, he’d come second to his step-brother, who only had to raise his eyebrows in excitement to get all he’d wanted, as though he was some kind of God to revere. Gabriel, on the other hand, had fallen in the background once his mother had died. The memories of the love given to him faded away in the mind of his father, and the hands that had once held him, had let him fall. He wondered at times if it had all been a race against time and it had just been his plan all along. To put him on a pedestal, just to kick him away for his prized son. To demand so much of him – to watch him fall over his own feet trying to please him, to get him to look at him, just to confess it had never mattered in the first place? He wondered if the love had ever been there, or if he’d come out broken, unable to be loved from his first breath. Was that why his mother held him so close? In apology? Did her hands beg for forgiveness, or were they just hands, holding him close? He didn’t know, and perhaps that was the worst part.
But as he watched Sebastian lean back, hands messing up his combed hair, he thought that perhaps the fall hadn’t been so bad after all. He’d learned to stand up again, clouted the flesh and collected the tears, until he built himself up again and created a legacy they all could try and take away, but they could never erase. And when he met Sebastian, he didn’t fall in love — no, falling didn’t quite cover it. It wasn’t quite like dropping from a cliff, or the sensation when you’re on top of a mountain and one misstep has you stumbling over a rock, leaning over the edge of a guardrail. It was like flying, like having spent all his life walking and then realizing there was more to life, more than the stories, the society and the urbanization he’d spent his life analysing. There were worlds he hadn’t even thought of before, new skies to colour with the tips of his phalanges, and new endings to start.
A whole new chapter, trapped in the eyes of his husband.
So no, if you had asked Gabriel, he wouldn’t have told you he fell in love with Sebastian, for “falling” implies the act of loss, of failure, of shipwrecks and despair, and that would’ve been an insult to the man. In Sebastian, he gained all he thought he would never experience; a whole new world built just for him.
So he flew in love, hoping to be caught.
He adjusted his cufflinks, flashing a smile at Seb, who had stood up from the bed and applied some cologne. The scent lingered in the room and Gabriel beamed, recognizing his gift. “Ready to charm the elites, dear husband?”, Gabriel teased, to which Sebastian replied, between chuckles,, “Only if you take me to that new restaurant that opened a few days ago tomorrow – as an apology”. Gabriel’s eyes softened, and he couldn’t help the smile appearing on his face. Sebastian always made plans for them. That was another thing he l—iked about him; how he was able to lay back and Sebastian would take over for him, plan outings and allow his brain to shut off for a while. He’d spent all his relationship with Isabella being the one who did everything; from planning his own birthday parties to planning their anniversary trips and sending her a list of where and how to buy him gifts. At that point, he had thought with annoyance, he should’ve just started a company with tutorials for her. It had always felt transactional, a ‘give and take’, emphasis on the ‘give’, but he assumed that it was how dating (when you were rich) worked. But Sebastian was different. He didn’t make him feel like a task to be ticked, a crease to be smoothed over or a stain to erase. He made him feel included in each choice, from which muffin he should buy to whether he should repaint the walls of the kitchen. “Whose apology? Am I apologizing for dragging you to somewhere my family will be?”, he teased, leaning closer to Sebastian, as if gravity itself demanded it, as if the world would stop spinning if he wasn’t close to him. It was the law of the land, decree of the universe — he needed to be closer to him.
Sebastian chuckled, looking at him, eyebrows raised with that trademark smirk he’d learned to expect, and he replied “Well, yeah”. Gabriel chuckled, shaking his head, and said “Sure, it’s on me though!”. Before Sebastian could protest, he put his hands over his mouth, “Don’t you dare disagree!”. He could feel Sebastian’s grin against his palms, and his mind went blank. All he could feel was the soft touch and Seb’s eyes widening ever so slightly, and then pushing his lips against his palms to tease him. It was a teasing brush that sent a thrill of warmth through his body. He was reminded of Shakespeare’s play, of “O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do” and for a moment he let his mind wander, to realities in which he wasn’t afraid, in which his palms were replaced by his own lips, and he’d lean forward, till he couldn’t tell whose legs were pressing against whose body, and it was him who Sebastian was kissing, him whom he was holding close, him whom he made bloom. Under his touch, he’d open like petals, kissed by the spring’s arrival. What a long winter he’d been frozen in, he thought as Sebastian’s eyes twinkled.
“Uh, sorry”, he muttered, leaning away, taking his hands off his face. Sebastian smiled, eyebrows raised like he wanted to tease him further, as if his embarrassment was his preferred source of enjoyment, and he slung his arm around Gabriel’s shoulders, while slowly saying, “If you wanted to touch my lips so badly, you could’ve asked”. At that, Gabriel looked away, eyes slightly widening as pink shades descended from his ears’ tips to his cheeks, and he replied “Seb – you wish!”. The man just leaned in closer, till his breath brought goosebumps on Gabriel’s skin and whispered, “I think it’s you who wished”. And before Gabriel could reply, forcing his brain to start working again to conjure an answer that’d make sense, he was cut off by the ringing of his phone. “I’ll – I’ll get that”, he replied, walking over to the table, his body already missing the warmth of Sebastian’s body. He cleared his throat, which earned him a chuckle from Sebastian who tried to mock him. He picked up the phone. “Hey – I, uh, yeah.”, there was a pause, and Sebastian walked over towards the kitchen, throwing a questioning look at Gabriel, who simply held up his hand in pause. He shrugged, looking for the suit’s jacket, finding it on the couch. As he picked it up, he could hear the smile in Gabriel’s voice as he spoke. His feet betrayed him, bringing him back to their bedroom as Gabriel said, “Sure! Yeah, yeah, definitely! I will see you there!”. At that, Sebastian’s eyebrows furrowed, his mind’s strings already pulling him towards what could only be described as the cluttering of his brain, as he waited for Gabriel to finally end the call. Who could he possibly want to see so badly?, he wondered. Maybe it was Irene, or, he thought with a pang that embedded itself like a needle between the clavicle and purlicue, it was another woman, one he didn’t even know. A fling of the past, a sweet vision he hadn’t dared to chase perhaps, too braced in the entrenched steps of his designed future to allow himself to actually live. He cleared his throat as Gabriel put down his phone, a smile adorning his face, and he asked, “Who was that?’. Gabriel walked over to him with a smile, and together they walked out, and he leaned against the kitchen counter and exclaimed, “The party we are going to? There is a potential sponsor attending!”. The strings in his mind broke, fuzzy static leaving space for air, and he shook his head at the foolish way his mind had spiraled without pause, and with a smile, he patted Gabriel on the shoulder, “That is amazing!”. He was happy, he truly was, however – a part of him wondered. He wondered if the rest of their time together would be like this. Damned to be Sisyphus, pressing the fragments of his mind together, further and further up, telling himself it was alright, that this was just a marriage of convenience, that it was okay to have had Gabriel – as faintly and feebly it was – in the orbit of his existence. Debris was better than nothing, he lectured himself, even as he stood knees deep into the lake of his aching mind, begging for more. He didn’t know how much longer he had, how many days until he left, until the ring on his finger was abandoned in a drawer of his new home, and the smile waking him up and lulling him to sleep wasn’t Gabriel’s. Who would remind him of the day’s breaking and the sun’s goodbye when he wasn’t there?
Sebastian’s hand on his shoulder almost made Gabriel forget the content of the call, and with a quiet, shaky breath, he nodded, and replied, “I still owe you an outing, as beneficial as the visit might be”. The small chuckle Sebastian let out curled its way around Gabriel’s heart, looping over its arteries and its aorta, till it warmed all the walls of his body. He shook his hands and body, like an engine trying to come to life, and he exclaimed, “Well, shall we go?”. A nod followed, and Sebastian asked, “Wait, do you want to apply some more cologne? I love the one you bought for me”, to which Gabriel said, “You’ve basically just hugged me, I think that is enough cologne”. They laughed, and together, they left the house, their home.
━━━━━
“It’s so crowded”, Gabriel muttered, walking into the venue. It was on the top of a building, and perhaps venue wasn’t the right word seeing it was open-aired and all, but still, he flinched as the wind softly passed through the gap of his fingers. He hadn’t expected it to be so windy already, and he quietly thanked Sebastian’s foresight of wearing suits with jackets. Sebastian was right behind him, snickering at his reaction as if to say “See? I told you”. He loved that – to be the source of his laughter. He wanted to live in the valleys of his jocundity, to refill it each day and watch as his chest rose with laughter and glee. He unconsciously reached for the tie around his neck, straightening it out, as if any crease could ruin the day. Sebastian noticed, and with a smile he asked, “Should we go there?”, pointing to an empty table. Gabriel nodded, though walking through the crowd turned out to be more of a challenge than he thought. There were so many people, more than he expected, and his shoulders constantly clashed against someone else’s. He offered quick apologies, and soft greetings to those he recognized, while Sebastian simply smiled, unsure on what to do. It wasn’t until Gabriel was almost pushed – perhaps deliberately? – out of the way that Sebastian took his hand, and muttered in quiet anger, “You’d think luxurious events like these would be filled with people who possess dignity”. Gabriel shrugged, accustomed to the unspoken rule of his world, then looked at Sebastian and inquired, “Are you okay? I don’t know if you ever attend such events and maybe it’s overwhelming and something I should have definitely asked you before and–”. Sebastian laughed, and squeezed Gabriel’s hand in response, and he replied, “I’m okay. This is nothing compared to angry customers, trust me”. And trust he did, as his fingers tightened in Sebastian’s hold, and he feared his heart would drop right into his hands, naked of all its concealed emotions, and Sebastian would see it. His fingers absentmindedly ran over Sebastian’s wedding ring – which they’d bought a few days ago, after Gabriel insisted they needed rings; to keep up with their appearances, of course. The moment the ring had slid onto his finger, though, he had felt a surge of emotions he could only describe as curiosity at the time, but now, with Sebastian leading him through the crowd, dark hair contrasting the beige of the suit, looking like the soil against the beach’s sand, he could try and commit perjury, to pretend it was truly just for appearances, and that it wasn’t going to last, but he knew the truth. Knees could be scraped and lies could be evicted from his brain to his lips, but Sebastian’s warmth had been the first to truly reach his heart.
“Here”, Sebastian said, holding out the chair for him. “You don't’ have to do that”, Gabriel replied, motioning to do the same for him, but Sebastian simply put his hands on his shoulders and pushed him down in the chair with an eye roll. “Ouch – could’ve at least been softer!”, Gabriel exclaimed, as he watched the man smirk, sitting down opposite of him. “Won't go soft on you, cariño”, he replied, resting his arms on the table, watching how Sebastian blushed at the nickname. If Sebastian was a selfish man, he’d have crossed the line – the invisible one separating his orbit from Gabriel’s – and he’d kiss the flush, reach for the jugular vein, skate across it with his teeth, sewing his love into rosewood islands. But Sebastian wasn’t a free man, shackled by the truth he didn’t dare utter, and so he simply laid back into the chair, asking, “So, what now?”. Gabriel looked around before replying, “Well, we can get something to eat if you want – or drink”, he added as a waiter passed their table, a bottle of Polaris red wine in his hands. “Or, we can just wait for chaos to find us, as usual”, Sebastian added, tapping his hands on the table. Gabriel simply laughed, “Hopefully not, don’t manifest that”. Sebastian looked at him curiously, “Do you believe in manifesting?”, to which Gabriel unclenched his fingers, something he always did while thinking. “Not necessarily, well not as others do. I think you need to work to make it actually work, but maybe putting out in the world gives you a better chance?”, he replied, tilting his head like a confused golden retriever, at which Sebastian barely contained his laughter, disguising it as a cough. He nodded, and replied, “Yeah, that makes sense. So, did you wish the universe for a hot husband?”, he joked, to which Gabriel rolled his eyes, and said, “Oh definitely, I was begging for it”, “You can stop wishing for it, but you can keep begging, I don’t mind the sound of it”, was Sebastian’s reply to which Gabriel’s eyes slightly widened, and his lips parted, perhaps to shoot a quick remark, perhaps to stutter some particles of speech, but before he could, a voice behind them interrupted their conversation.
“Well, well, well. Who do we have here?”, and of course, the voice belonged to none other than Chad, who was looking down at them, Isabella's hand rested on his arm, as if she was a porcelain doll resting on her music box. To others, they would’ve looked like the typical rich couple – the loud (quite ugly) man and the soft, pretty woman. However, to anyone who knew her, Isabella was anything but soft, and her voice quickly cut through the atmosphere as she added, “Truly, one glance and the value of this place has dropped. Poor, poor owner”, eyes darting across the room, clearly unimpressed. She sounded pitiful, the kind of tone adults use when trying to explain an easy concept to a child. Sebastian stood up, the chair making a slight noise as it scraped against the floor, and Gabriel mirrored his movements, eyebrows burrowed, clenching his hands. Don’t make a scene, his brain logically reminded him, but he noticed Chad’s eyes roaming Sebastian’s figure, lingering on where the notch of the suit showed his skin. Even when holding his girlfriend’s hands, it was Sebastian’s lips he looked at. Sebastian raised an eyebrow, noticing it with disgust, and replied, “You’ve stolen the words right out of my mouth”. And he knew it was a trap, that to engage was meaningless, that it was quicksand, only pulling him down to their level, but he felt so annoyed. Isabella gasped theatrically, as she always did, and replied almost sneering, “Of course, that’s what your … kind does, right? Steal? Pretend to belong to a world they had no right to…”. If her words affected him at all, then Sebastian didn’t let it show – not outrightly at least. If you were Gabriel, you would have noticed his jaw clenching, his hands tightening into a sphere, thumb moving back and forth, as if to soothe himself. The words themselves didn’t hurt him, they were a mere fragment of the stuff he’d heard throughout the years. If anything they were pathetic, children-level insults, but it was the implication that ‘they’ included Gabriel that irked him. His hard work and skills were so clear since the first day they met, and to pretend he was anything but devoted to his job was a dense, foolish perception.
Gabriel took a step forward, getting closer to the pair, tension visible in his posture as he told her, “You’re one to talk. Jumped from one brother to the other, like a lost sailor switching ships!”. His eyes narrowed, like a mother scolding her child, and added, “Tell me, Isabella, what did you ever achieve on your own, without the use of my father’s name, or my credit cards? The jewels on your neck are still the ones I bought for you”. Chad’s eyes widened, whether it was anger at his last statement or anger in general he didn’t know, but he raised his arm, pointing his finger at him. “Don’t you dare talk so big now, Gabriel! You’re the one who married a dude”, and he almost spat out the last word, as if it was poison, like fragments lingering on his tongue, glass shattering against his pancreas. Sebastian let out a joyless chuckle, out of pure exasperation, and his arm found its way around Gabriel’s waist, pulling him closer. Gabriel blinked quickly, and he smiled, forgetting for a moment where he was, and who stood before him. He could only feel Sebastian’s warmth against his own body, those same brown eyes that had begun looking more and more like home. Sebastian stared Chad down, and Isabella sneered, rolling her eyes, “No wonder you–”, but she too was cut-off, by an approaching man. The group turned their heads to the new presence, and Sebastian smirked, extending his hand, “It’s lovely to meet you, Mister Desmond!”.
Confused stares spread across the group as the new man let out a hearty laughter, taking the hand in his own. “I told you Sebastian, call me Richard!”. The older man stood with the type of confidence you strengthen over the course of years, his gray suit jacket and matching trousers a perfect balance to the silver streaks in his hair. The fabric shimmered subtly under the light, and his jacket, with its sleek notch lapels and single button, framed his shoulders neatly. Gabriel couldn’t help but think that this was a man who understood the power of a well-chosen outfit. Desmond’s eyes trailed over the remaining trio, who was still looking confused, and he smiled, greeting them as well. “You must be Gabriel!”, and he extended his hand, moving so that he subtly blocked Chad and Isabella's bodies from his gaze. Gabriel composed himself, and leaned in to take his hand, shaking it a few times, “Yes sir, it’s me. It’s a pleasure to meet you!”. Truth be told, Gabriel had no idea who the man was, and Sebastian noticed it, and softly, imperceptibly, leaned closer to his ear and whispered, “The potential investor you mentioned before”. That felt like ice water being thrown over his body and Gabriel stood upright, Seb’s hand still on his waist, and his tone instantly shifted, “I’m honoured you have made it here”. Desmond laughed again, “Oh, and you’re a polite one!”, and at that, Chad took the opportunity to step to the side and introduce himself, as if the adjective belonged to him too, “Sir, my name is Chad and–”, “Ah yes, yes, the younger brother”, Desmond replied, waving his hand in the air as if trying to swat away some memories, making Chad’s face slightly turn in anger. Sebastian barely concealed a smirk at the interaction and Gabriel watched Isabella get angrier by the second, forced to bite her tongue in front of a source of wealth. Oh, how the snake chokes on its own poison, he thought.
“Sebastian,” he added, eyes finally taking in the couple’s nearness and widening in surprise, “I did not know you got married!”. He put his hand on his heart, faking a heartache, and shook his head in disappointment, which resulted in Gabriel chuckling. Sebastian’s hands travelled from his waist to his hand, holding it closer, squeezing it once. “I apologize, it all happened really quickly”, he replied sheepishly, fingers tracing the outline of the ring on Gabriel’s finger. Desmond let out a sigh, shaking his head, like a grandfather would in fake annoyance and replied, “Such is the passion of young people I suppose”, and then he added, “At the vows renewal, I better be present”. Sebastian simply nodded, promising him to keep a chair in the front just for him. Gabriel’s smile widened, and he let those words replay in his mind. Vows renewal, those usually happen down the line, when the time’s passage reaches at least ten years. What would ten years with Sebastian look like, he wondered. Gabriel had always been a curious child, precociously spending his early days exploring places, finding answers to questions only he saw. And that trait had never left him, and he knew then, what would keep him up that night.
Chad tried to step in again, and Desmond looked at him, eyes narrowing, as if seeing right through him. Chad’s smirk still didn’t falter as he said, ‘You’re looking in the wrong direction, sir. The future of the company stands right in front of you!”, he exclaimed, putting his hands against his chest, and with a barely contained smirk Sebastian noticed how he was standing on his tiptoes to appear taller. With a small tilt of his head he showed it to Gabriel, who had to turn around and fake a cough. Desmond raised an eyebrow, and Sebastian quickly counteracted by clarifying that, ‘Gabriel is the one who holds the most shares as of right now, and it was his mother who started this. If anybody is the future, it is him and him only”. That clearly irritated Isabella who rolled her eyes, not even trying to mask her annoyance in front of a stranger. She let out a dramatic sigh, hands reaching out for Desmond’s arm, as she said, “Oh please, ignore him. It’s not like he would know anything about real business”. Gabriel looked at her, narrowing his lips, and he tried to remember once again one good reason why they would need to put up with this any longer. Chad gladly chimed in, and added, “Exactly! I promise you your intellect will not be stimulated around people like that”. Desmond interlocked his hands behind his back and turned to them, which the couple took as an invitation to continue and as a confirmation they won. “Look at you two, you really thought you could play in the big leagues, huh?”, Isabella added, and the pair broke out in laughter, as Desmond grew more and more confused with the dynamic of the group. Sebastian swallowed the words he wanted to say and simply let them linger in his hand, which were now so tightly wrapped around Gabriel’s that it almost hurt – though Gabriel wouldn’t complain. Gabriel tried to remain calm, though anger made its way around his own lips, daring to spill as he said coldly, “Don’t do this in front of Mr Desmond, Chad”. The man simply glanced at Sebastian, that same predatory look as if he wanted to tear off his clothes and indulge in all kinds of sins – the cross on his neck be damned. Chad smirked as he looked directly at Sebastian, “You really think you belong in his world? Because from where I’m standing, you look like a glorified servant. Just another toy to be passed around”, and at that, he leaned closer, hand raising as if to reach for Sebastian’s face, his tongue tracing his own lips, as if daring Sebastian to take the bait. “You could’ve married someone of our class, Gabriel, but it seems the rotten DNA of your mother lingered in your actions and you just simply had to settle, like she did on her death bed with a son like you”.
A gasp, silence, and the dam broke. At once, static was all Sebastian's eyes perceived as his fists rose, quick like unexpected waves, and Chad’s cheek became their new port. He didn’t let the gasp and ‘how dare you’-s stop him as he hit the man again, knuckles hitting the skin near his nose, as a threat for what would come. “Don’t you dare talk about my husband like that”, he hissed, the once neat hair crumbling down his face. Chad’s chest rose up and down, and his hand rested against his cheek, where a mark was already beginning to form. His eyes narrowed in anger, but the smirk never left his face. He should feel resigned, ashamed, but seeing Sebastian’s face break in anger did nothing if not arouse him further. Oh, how he wondered how that same expression would look beneath coverlets. Still, they were in public, and the crowd around them seemed to hold its breath – but not its tongues as whispers started dancing from one person to another – so he quickly composed himself, eyebrows raised and eyes widened. “How – How dare you! I will have you arrested!”, he exclaimed, and Isabella's expression hardened, noticing the quiet lack of true outrage in her boyfriend’s voice. Still, her hands moved slowly, but not softly, across Chad’s face as she hissed, “The apple doesn’t fall from the tree it seems!”.
At that point, Gabriel had stopped paying attention to the couple, redirecting his attention to Sebastian’s knuckles, which were slightly grazed from the impact. He knew Sebastian was strong – hell, all of the hours spent admiring his figure, holding his waist while he was driving his bike and that first night he got out of the shower … – his logical side kept reminding him that the man in front of him had enough strength that he wouldn’t dissolve because of merely two punches, but that didn’t stop his autonomic nervous system from worrying, making his heart beat faster. What a cruel thing love was; it had the power to erase all your logic, all sound minded reasoning, all your lexicon and life concordance, till it leaves you vacuous and confused. He held Sebastian’s hand, softly as if afraid his hold could somehow intoxicate him, and in his eyes laid the obvious question before his mouth could open, so Sebastian simply smiled, shook his head, and wrapped his hands around Gabriel’s waist, leaning him against himself. “Richard, if you would excuse us, I don’t think today is the right time to talk about investing”, he stated, not gracing the angry couple one more look. His voice was restrained, and one wouldn’t have known he’d just punched someone. But deep down, between the folds of his blood, he was simmering. The words they said kept repeating in his mind and all he wanted to do was take Gabriel away from there, to hold his face and repeat like a mantra that it wasn’t true, that he wasn’t what they were saying, that he was so much more. Ungraspable, a vocabulary of his own.
Desmond shook his head, as if in disbelief at the scene. He looked at Chad, and said coldly, “You know, in Italy we say, ‘il lupo perde il pelo, ma non il vizio’, which I guess in your language the closest similar idiom would be ‘the wolf may lose his teeth but never his nature’”, then turned to Sebastian, patting him on the shoulder. “You’re a good man, Sebastian”, he stated, and his voice sounded like the business man he was, stern and strong. “This is... not the environment I expected for a business pitch”, he added, putting his hands in the pockets of his suit, and then he looked at Chad. “Young man, I hope you are not the future of this company, because your behaviour is truly inacceptable.” And before he could reply, he added, while looking at Gabriel, “I’m still willing to hear your business plan, because I see the future that your business has. However”, he added, “I need to know how you plan on handling internal strife without it damaging the company’s reputation, or the workers”. Gabriel nodded, relief on his face, and replied, “Of course. I apologize for today. I am more than open to rescheduling this”. Desmond shook his head, and looked again at Sebastian, who in turn was looking at Gabriel. A smile broke on the older man’s face at the sight and before he turned to leave, motioning a waiter to give him a drink, he added, “I giuramenti degli innamorati sono come quelli dei marinai. You got yourself a good one, Sebastian”. The latter smiled back, and Desmond turned around, already engrossed in another conversation. Sebastian turned to Gabriel, and he softly tugged his hand, tilting his head to the exit. “Do you–”, “Let’s go home, Seb”, he said quietly, still looking at the man’s hand, as if it could reveal the truth to him. He nodded, and together, they walked over to the exit, the crowd silently parting for them. Gabriel grunted, and shook his head, “This will be on everyone’s phone tomorrow, won’t it?”. Sebastian shook his head, “Trust me, it won’t”, making a mental note to make sure no video or photo of this event got out and fell into the media’s hands. Chad tried to say something again but Isabella looked at him in anger and disrelish, and on the way out, Sebastian could hear her telling him to cut it out, and act like a real man. “Seems like your man wants a man”, was all he could think, with a barely repressed laugh.
“Seb, I’m sor–”, Gabriel tried to say, but Sebastian put his index finger on Gabriel’s lips, causing the man to smile. “Who’s copying whom now?”, he asked, eyebrows raised and with a smirk tugging at his lips. The soft breeze of the seeping afternoon wrapped itself around their bodies, and Gabriel shuddered. “That was—”, “A mess?”, Sebastian said, looking up at the rooftop they’d just left. He could still faintly hear the music playing, and he wondered if anyone was watching them. Gabriel sighed, running his hands through his hair, and muttered, “Let’s just go home”. Sebastian nodded, smiling at the second mention of “home” and not “your home”. The place truly had began feeling like theirs — it was Gabriel’s jacket that laid on the kitchen table next to Seb’s forgotten coffee cup, it was Sebastian’s cologne that sat next to Gabriel’s toothbrush in the bathroom, it was his place that had turned into theirs, in every sense of the word — except for the one he so desperately wanted. Still, he took his phone out and looked at Gabriel, “Do you want the guys to give us a ride or would you prefer an Uber?”. Gabriel thought about it for a second and then said, “I think an uber would be better. Don’t get me wrong”, he added quickly as if to defend himself, “I really like the guys, especially Henry, but I think I just …”, his voice trailed off as his hands ruffled his hair, a ritualistic habit of anxiety he had noticed over the last few weeks, and Sebastian ended the sentence for him, “Need silent time?”. Gabriel chuckled, “You make it sound like I’m a child who got in trouble and now can’t talk”. Sebastian looked confused, “Is that like an actual punishment?”, he asked, while typing in the app, requesting a driver. It was Gabriel’s turn to look confused, “Yeah? Your mother never did that?”. Sebastian’s face softened, shoulders relaxing as he stared at the phone. “No, she wasn’t big on punishments. That was more my father’s expertise”, he added, inhaling slowly, as if the last part took up too much of his lungs. He didn’t like talking about his father, and Gabriel immediately noted that, and half nodded, feeling the same way. “We didn’t get lucky, did we?”, he said softly, leaning closer to Sebastian, till his head leaned on his left shoulder. He loved how his body felt against his own, how the valley of his trapezius seemed to be made just for his head. The crown of his hair tickled Sebastian’s neck softly, making him shudder ever so slightly. “At least we had good mothers”, he replied, arms finding their place again around his waist, squeezing him closer, begging his heart not to betray him “That got sad really quickly, sorry”, Gabriel said, wincing. Sebastian let out a soft chuckle, and replied, “Don’t worry, I like getting to know you, and that includes the bad parts, the ones you keep locked in a vault”, pointing his finger against his chest. And then he added, “Plus, what kind of husband would I be if I didn’t know my beloved had daddy issues?”. That got a laugh out of Gabriel, who softly punched him in the shoulder, as he said, “That’s .. definitely one way to put it”. Sebastian smiled back at him, that soft smile he reserved just for Gabriel. If it wasn’t his heartbeat the one to betray him, it would be his gaze, so enamored just by the sound of his laughter, as if the sun itself had transported its rays into that sound, as to keep him warm for the rest of his life. They kept talking back and forth, until the uber arrived, and he held the door for Gabriel, and together, they finally drove home. (Or well, were driven home).
━━━━━
A long drive later, Sebastian opened the door to the apartment, sighing with relief at the familiar walls. There truly wasn’t a place quite like home, and he soon began taking off his shoes, and the man behind him mirrored his actions. The silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Soon, two pairs of suit jackets were hanging on the coat hook, and Sebastian walked over to the couch, sitting down on it while unfastening his tie. That, he thought, he was good at. The scene felt quite domestic, and Gabriel couldn't help but smile. He could get used to this, he thought. And then he thought with a pang, worse, he was getting used to this, despite fully knowing there was an expiration date looming around the table, painted at the edges of the wall, pitter pattering around their conversations. If they went their separate ways, would he have to come back to an empty house? Would the kitchen table still feel like a table, if Sebastian didn’t sit at it? Would the living room still feel comfortable around his skin, if it wasn’t Sebastian’s hands that stole the remote from his hands, chuckling as he held it over his head? What a treacherous thing he was doing to his heart; accustomising it to the presence of a man he didn’t even know if he could have.
Sebastian patted the spot next to him, and Gabriel sat down next to him, his legs resting close to Sebastian’s. The jalousies were drawn, and the soft scent of vanilla candles filled the rooms, and Gabriel sighed, putting his head against the backrest, and he looked at Sebastian. The latter hesitated, and then asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”. Another soft silence stretched between them, and he let it linger. He let the reticence exist, and for that, Gabriel was thankful. The answer was that he didn’t know. He didn’t know if he should just shake it off, like he did each time. If he should throw his head back and laugh at the absurdity, wash his hands off the insults and pretend they hadn’t existed. He should be the bigger person, he thought. “No, you shouldn’t”, Sebastian answered, and Gabriel realized he’d spoken his thoughts out loud and he closed his eyes in annoyance at himself. Sebastian sat closer to him, “What you should do,” he said softly, hands tapping on the couch, “is not hang around people who are so little that they force you to be big”. Gabriel thought about it and then replied, “So you’re telling me you’re a therapist on top of being a mechanic too?”. Sebastian’s laugh filled the room, and Gabriel could swear the room looked more alive, as if his joy painted over the walls tenfold. “What I'm trying to say is that, I’m sorry, and that what they told you isn’t true”. At that, Gabriel nodded, “I mean I know, it’s just .. difficult when my mother is brought up”. Sebastian nodded silently, as if any noise could scare off the confession, and his hands rested on Gabriel’s knee. “They said my mother had to settle on her death bed by having a son like me and that just…”, his voice trailed off, his hands shaking slightly as his fingers clenched and unclenched. “That was hard, I suppose?”, he said, more like a question, and Sebastian nodded. “It's not your fault, Gabe”, he replied, now fully facing him on the couch, his right hand resting on Gabriel’s knee, his left hand caressing Gabriel’s wrist. “Your mother would be proud of you”, he added quietly. A knot formed in Gabriel’s throat and he simply nodded, resting his head on Sebastian’s shoulder. He shifted closer, fully embracing him now, and he breathed in his scent, his heartbeat calming his own. “I’m glad you’re here, Sebastian”, he muttered, eyes closed against the man’s chest. He whispered a soft, “Me too”, back, hands wandering up and down his back, as if trying to erase the words etched in his heart, delete the carvings left by all the hurt he’d experienced. If he could, he would’ve taken the strings of sadness out of his chest, knitted it away, curled it around his own heart, and wore it till the end of time, as long as Gabriel was happy.
Gabriel looked up at him, and their faces were close, dangerously close. Dangerous in the way a roller coaster drops and so does your stomach, but you feel alive, like never before. It was electric, as if the atoms in his body had been searching for the ones in Sebastian’s body, and now they were finally at peace. “Seb?”, he whispered, his hands finding the curls in the man’s hair, brushing it tenderly. Sebastian closed his eyes at the touch, and the look in his face was so halcyon, peaceful in a way he hadn’t seen before, that his heart swelled with love. Love, love, love – what he didn’t dare name, but still asked for. “Mh?”, he hummed, slowly opening his eyes. Gabriel’s breath hitched as his eyes flickered to Sebastian’s lips. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words tangled up in his throat, and so he just leaned closer, till their foreheads were almost bumping into each other, and the magnetism between them was undeniable. “What are you doing?”, Sebastian said softly, eyes widening in surprise, his breath on Gabriel’s lips. One more shift, and they’d be kissing. “Seb, I really, really like you”, he whispered, as if in confession, as if their home was a church and he came to profess his biggest truth. Glass stained were the windows of Sebastian’s eyes, and in them he saw the same question that lingered in his own – of what would happen, if the line was crossed, and how it would change everything, or if anything at all. “Gabe…”, he started, but the man interrupted him, “Seb, do you like me?”, he asked, afraid of any arguments the man had. Sebastian looked at him, and his heart begged for the admission. The plea sat between the space separating their lips, bending the air, twisting around his hands. The answer was easy, too obvious, an unnecessary addendum to the look in his eyes. Yet, it was fear and shame that lingered on his tongue, holding it back. Could he allow himself to have him, despite his role in his empire? To have him, and not have the truth to the death of his mother? To kiss him, and hide the rest in a corner, selfishly holding onto the only one his heart had ever asked for?
At night, he’d lay on the side, looking at his chest rise slowly, breathing in and out. The look on his face was peaceful, citizen of a dream world Sebastian couldn’t see. He wanted to reach out for it, to linger in the creases of his fantasies, be able to give him that same look. He wanted to sit with him in whichever existence his mind had conjured, to kiss him till his lips forgot the texture of everything else, till his eyes created the fabric of a new sky. Even in the moonless nights, when his mind foolishly told him the sky was making place for his confession, he still didn’t dare reach out. But now, on the couch, with Gabriel’s body pressing softly against his own, and his eyes, oh those eyes, almost pleading for an answer, how could he ever deny him anything?
He scoffed, an annoyance-less sound, and said, “Isn’t it obvious?”. One would’ve stumbled upon the scene and thought Sebastian would’ve admitted to knowing the secret of life, of the meaning for which we live, such brilliant and grand was the smile on Gabriel’s face. He laughed, a breathless laughter, the knot in his throat finally untwisting as his hands softly caressed Sebastian’s cheeks. “Really?”, he asked, as if the sentence had been a mirage, a mere hologram of his fantasies. “Ya salió el peine”, was the answer Sebastian gave with a chuckle, the spanish idiom slipping from his lips. The truth was already in the open, too obvious, an unnecessary footnote. Gabriel’s heart squeezed at the accent, a blush unfurling on his cheeks and neck, and with a smile, he leaned in, until one mere movement would lead their lips to finally touch. In the action leaned a question, one Sebastian grabbed and finally answered. His lips tentatively pressed against Gabriel’s and it was different from any of the other kisses they had shared. Those had been performative, two actors quickly remembering their lines, lips brushing quickly and clumsily. This one, it felt like a promise, like a chapter being written with each movement. Picking up a book with reverence, caressing the leatherbound cover, and opening it with care – it was that kind of devotion. It was thrilling, perhaps scary – not in the bloodcurdling way, or the one where it makes you hide beneath your covers – no, it was what you’d expect the first astronomers to have felt when they saw a star fall; beautiful, unprecedented, new.
Sebastian’s breath hitched, and his hands found their way to Gabriel’s curls, tugging them slightly, as if to anchor himself, to feel that it was real. That Gabriel’s knees parting his legs was real, that the warmth rush of his body wasn’t just a fragment of a dream. Gabriel’s smile widened as he parted his lips for Sebastian’s tongue, and he felt the man tug again, this time harder. They parted to catch breath, chests rising faster and faster, and they stared at each other, smiles waltzing on their faces. Gabriel’s hands came up to his face again, this time to explore it. His fingers softly traced the line of his jaw, the rough stubble prickling him. He watched his lips part, his eyebrows rising as if to make a quick remark, to tease him for looking at him like that. But how could one stare at him and never look away? He was beautiful, in ways he couldn’t understand. How could a man like that exist and want him too?. “Are you trying to get a PhD in my face?”, Sebastian asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, and Gabriel leaned in to claim it for himself, as Sebastian hummed in amusement. “What if I were?”, he asked, hands wandering across his chest, feeling his abs. “Then let me help you get some extra credits”’, he replied, stealing a quick kiss, touching the skin that wasn’t covered by fabric. Gabriel shifted on the couch, hands on his chest softly pushing Sebastian down, until he hovered over the man, elbows at each side of his body. “You’re beautiful”, he remarked. It wasn’t just a compliment, it felt like a statement, something that is obvious to everyone, a fact, like how the sun rises each day. Such was Sebastian’s beauty and the man chuckled, and his hands curled around his hair again as he said, “And now you’re stealing my words too, how am I supposed to give you extra credits?”. Gabriel laughed, leaning his head on his chest, watching Sebastian’s breath hitch, goosebumps appearing on his skin. His steady heartbeat lulled him, and he felt the man kiss the top of his head again. He could make a crown out of those, he thought with a smile.
“Took you long enough to kiss me”, he muttered, in fake annoyance. Sebastian tried to sit upright to look at him, but Gabriel simply relaxed his body, trying to make himself weigh more, as if it could keep him there. That earned him a chuckle from the man, who got the hint and relaxed on the couch, and he said, “Well, not my fault you were giving me weird hints, and you told me you were straight, like three times!”. He could feel Gabriel roll his eyes and the man said, “And it’s not my fault you somehow enchanted me’. “So what, am I a witch now?”, Sebastian asked amused, tracing lazy loops on Gabriel’s back. Gabriel softly shuddered at the touch, a movement that made Sebastian’s mind run with all the different scenarios he could feel that again. “Witch or not, you’ve cursed me for sure”, he replied, fingertips dancing on the man’s chest. It took all the control Sebastian had to focus on his words and not how his body pressed against him, as if they were made for each other, carved by the same star that split into two perfect halves. “Mh, how so?”, he asked, while his mind thought of all the ways it was true.
He knew he should’ve enjoyed the moment, but a part of him, the logical one, tugged at his arms, reminding him of all the ways this wasn’t going to end well, and that he was selfish for allowing Gabriel to get so close to him – and a part of him was mad at Gabriel for having the audacity to like him back. He didn’t know what was worse; being loved back or not being loved at all. To have him and be destined to ruin it all, or to just not have him and spend the rest of his days knowing that for a few fortnights, a few months, he had felt Love like never before? To be the knife he stuck into his own chest or to be left behind, never having known the plateau of his existence. So he drank the poison himself, and he knew that through the kisses they shared his beloved too would be contaminated, and he wondered if that was a worthy price for the brief stellar conjunction of their bodies, tightly intertwined? Could he caress the lines of Gabriel’s body, knowing his identity was still a mystery he couldn’t bring himself to confess? To bask in the light of his smile, while his true self laid in the darkness? Could he be selfish? Good things, he had learned throughout his life, never came to good people, and he knew he wasn’t one. There had been too much blood shed for him to be absolved of his crimes. So could he be selfish one last time, for the rest of his life?
I wish I could freeze time, frame your gaze and your smile – tattoo it on my eyelids. I never want to blink, just to find you absent.
“Cause whenever I think of you, I smile; like it’s second nature” was the answer. Sebastian smiled, maybe curses weren’t so bad after all. His lips left a lingering kiss on his temple. What a fitting name, he thought. The day he’d met him, in that dark, begrimed alleyway, as he had laid on the floor, hands shaking from the fall and lungs daring to collapse under the weight of his own despair, Gabriel’s arrival had been accompanied with a light that had shone right behind him, casting a golden halo around his silhouette, almost as if he had been sent just for him, just like in those movies Irene loved. Sebastian had never believed in salvation or absolution, not when his life had been spent clawing his way through the mafia’s ranks, bodies littering behind his steps and the presence of guns in his hands making him forget the importance of his limbs. It wasn’t anything he could desire, or even hope for, let alone think of. It was a concept foreign to him, destroyed by none other than himself. But where his bloodied hand had been bruised, Gabriel’s softer ones had pulled him up like he deserved it. He’d done it so carefully, so naturally, as if it was a normal evening night for him, as if it was ritualistic, heuristic. When he'd later tried to google him – this man who had stepped into his life like a vision, like an omen – he hadn’t been able to find him. As if Gabriel had existed only for him, only to find him in that back street. What he stumbled upon, however, was a page describing the meaning of his name. He’d clicked it out of curiosity, frustrated with the lack of results, mentally taking a note to ask Henry to help him, and that’s when he’d read about how Gabriel meant God’s man. He’d laughed at that, the words staring at him as if in question, as if wondering whether his fall had finally made him lose his mind, and he had shook his head, closing the laptop with a small hiss as his hands felt rough against the smooth surface. Of course, of all people he would meet God’s trusted ally. He’d laughed it off back then, but now, with Gabriel’s lips ghosting over his collarbone, hands dipping into the waistband of his jeans, and lips evicting soft, melliferous words just for him, he thought that perhaps, that random article hadn’t been so wrong. He still didn’t believe in a God, in a bigger Him, (or a Her for that matter), but when Gabriel kissed him again, it was hard not to believe in paradise. Not the kind you are supposed to wait for in death, when you’re hopefully silver in the head but wiser in the heart, but the kind of door you only open once, in your life. And when Gabriel smiled at him, softly kissing the space between his neck and his shoulder, he felt the skein of his past unravel by the man’s breath, as if with each act of love he was taking his confession, absolving his sins, taking the beads of the rosary and washing them between whispers. Truly, he thought with a smile, it was his temple, his altar, his long-lost exculpation. And when Gabriel kissed his knuckles, still rough from the wound, he could swear He had orchestrated this all along.
“Look at me”, Gabriel cooed, sitting up and holding him by the hand, pulling him with him, pouting ever so slightly. Sebastian chuckled, hands ruffling the hair of the man, and he wanted to say, How could I not? How could my eyes ever memorize your silhouette and never chase it to the end of the universe? How could I try and rebuild it from memory, when your touch alone fragmentises every fond hope I curled around my fingers and in between my lips, where your name lies, lies, and lies, resident of the soul my body inhabits? When the night’s veil falls and it’s your eyes that replace the moon, how could I ever look away?
Still, he was afraid to talk, as if his acknowledgment could make Gabriel dissolve, and he’d wake up, realizing it was just another dream, yet another fantasy locked behind the world of Morpheus. “You’re doing that thing again”, Gabriel whispered, tilting his head. “What thing?”, “Looking at me as if I’m about to disappear”. His hands traced Sebastian’s face, slow circles on his cheeks. His breath hitched, and he closed his eyes, as if to absorb the warmth of his beloved. “I just wonder if I’m selfish to desire this so much”, he replied slowly, his right hand covering Gabriel’s hand, elbows keeping him upright. Gabriel looked at him, pausing just for a second, before saying, “My mother used to say that Love can never be a waste, that even when lost, it just … becomes part of the glass stoned windows of your heart, and that it reflects your ability to desire, to care, and to want. And that, that can never be selfish”. Sebastian smiled smugly, narrowing his eyes, and said, “Did you just admit you love me?”, to which Gabriel’s eyes widened before he replied, “I – God, I guess we are not the romantic type, are we?”, “You offered to pay for my presence!”. That made Gabriel laugh and he softly laid his hand on Sebastian’s shoulders as he said, “And now your presence is priceless”. Sebastian’s face softened, and he pulled him closer, and in the space between his neck and his shoulder he laid a kiss, and then whispered, “I love you”. Gabriel’s hands shook, first at the touch, then at the confession, and he said, “I love you too, my prince”. That made Sebastian chuckle, and he asked, “Prince? I thought I just was a witch”. Gabriel rolled his eyes and explained, “I saw Henry talking to you once, I’m not sure about what exactly, but he mentioned how you were the prince of your business and I guess, that word just stuck with me”. Sebastian smiled, and he kissed Gabriel’s collarbone as he asked, “What does that make you then? My king, my liege, my knight?”. Gabriel shuddered at the touch, his breath getting heavier as he made space for Sebastian’s lips to find his neck, trailing him up and down. His eyelids fluttered as Sebastian’s hands started roaming his chest, and he let out a weak, “Anything you want me to be, as long as I’m yours”.
Sebastian’s pulse raced at the words, and he felt like it was too much for his heart to take. The man would be his death, he thought. He would be his life too, that much he was sure of. There were many people he would die for, take a bullet and fall for, but to want to live for someone – perhaps that was the biggest gift. He buried his face in the crook of his neck as he said, “I love you”. He would never get tired of saying that, and Gabriel would never get tired of hearing it. Gabriel smiled against his head as mirrored the words, “I love you”. Outside, you could hear the pitter patter of the rain, as if the sky had held its breath for them, just to finally release their programmed weather. He chuckled at the thought, and with Sebastian laying, finally, in his arms, he felt just like that; as if for twenty five years he had held his breath, and now, now he could finally breathe.
tagging: @thegreatestomens, @drmsofanabsolution and @shrikes-and-thorns <3 so eternally grateful for all of the support and encouraging words !!
#sneak me in your closet my prince#smiycmp#sebastian romano#gabriel castillo#ignore any mistakes#i'm sick and i got exams#webanglikethat.writing
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the Charlie and Vaggie designs are finally done :DDD this was originally meant to be posted for lesbian visibility week, sorry im so late lmao
I also made a screenshot redraw :D alt version + original screenshot under the cut :3 (as well as a transcription of the text on the designs, but that's also in the alt :D)

The text around Vaggie reads:
"I feel like her personality is so Charlie-focused (which makes sense for her at this point to be fair) that aside from shifting her fashion to be more bitch it feels hard to figure out what she'd wear outside of Charlie/the hotel, I feel - heaven is the only other large influence on her so I tried to convey that? It's hard to toe the line between too little and too obvious"
"tried to keep her bow-ribbons as being attached to her belt loops, but I feel like a bow in and of itself doesn't match her militarism"
"considering - her having one key to the hotel on her carabiner & Charlie having a matching earing?"
The text around Charlie reads:
"gave her the eyelashes as the heaven-eye vaggie has on her carabiner to tie back to her heritage"
"made her shirt crumpled cause I think it firs her "trying but still ultimately still unexperienced" vibe"
"tried to make her goatness more explicit, particularly cause I feel like it's too stublel in the show, particularity cause I just like drawing goat features :3"
#homosexuals 🫵🫵🫵#also petition for their new ship name to be FallenHope PLSSSSS#every time i have to say of type 'chaggie' i die a little inside#fallenhope#chaggie#charlie morningstar#vaggie hazbin hotel#vaggie#chaggie fanart#fallenhope fanart#lesbian visibility week#hits them with the futch beam#hazbin hotel redesign#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel fanart#i've been working on this instead of revising#fuck athenes clearly lesbians with an incredibly interesting dynamic trapped in a shit show is much more important#/lh /lh /j#id in alt
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dark times || Joel Miller x f!reader
summary: the night you find Joel in a questionable state, to say the least, is the night a confession leaves your lips. A confession that both uplifts and shocks Joel.
word count: 1.6k
warnings: use of alcohol & pills (as depicted in the show); mentions of depression, loss, suicide; established relationship and a lot of fluff for all intents and purposes.
A/N: comments & reblogs are always appreciated! ❤️
It’s not unusual for Joel’s house to be this somber: lights almost turned off completely and utter silence. On nights when he’s perkier he might play around with his guitar, but tonight it seems it’s not the case.
You haven’t seen him almost all day.
The fugitive glimpses you’ve caught of him throughout the day have not been enough. Since you haven’t gotten the chance to talk to him, you simply assumed he was having an off day. On those days, you came to understand that, more often than not, he needed space.
But it’s well past midnight and you have an annoying pit in your stomach, an ugly feeling that won’t cease pestering you. It can’t hurt checking up on him, right?
You let yourself into the house, gently closing the door behind you. The wooden floor screeches beneath you ever so slightly, indirectly announcing your presence there.
“Joel?” you say, barely loud enough to be heard. “It’s me, I let myself in. Are you still awake?”
You see the light coming from the bedroom as you reach the end of the stairs, so you figure he’s either sleeping or just wallowing in self-pity. Again, not unusual. You peep through the door, noticing Joel curled up on the bed, still in his day clothes. As you approach, you notice how disheveled he looks in his green flannel and jeans and big, dirty boots.
“Joel, hey,” you say, gently nudging his arm. “It’s me, hi.”
You keep nudging him, but no response from his side. Perhaps he had one too many glasses of whiskey and he’s finally sleeping properly.
“Joel?”
You start to lose some of your patience and nudge him harder, but still no response. You call out his name, a rush of panic spreading throughout your body. Something tells you to check his pulse; he barely has one.
“Joel, come on, don’t do this,” you quip. “Joel, I swear to God—get up. Now.”
Soon, all words flee from your mind and the only one you can say, on a desperate loop as you try to bring some life into the body by shaking it, is Joel.
Joel. The only man you’ve ever loved.
You fail to realize when tears began to stream down your cheeks, hot and filled with an impossible ache, but you couldn’t care less, not now. You cup his face with your palms, examining every freckle, every eyelash, every portion of skin you can register.
“Joel, don’t you fucking dare do this,” you whisper. “Don’t—don’t you fucking do this to us, I swear I’m—Joel!”
Then suddenly, a mumble makes your eyes shoot wide open, staring down at the face beneath. Joel opens his eyes, trying to get a hold of the surroundings. Then he stammers your name, and you sigh in relief.
“I thought—what the hell happened?”
“Uh—“
He’s clearly not fully awake yet, so you finally scan the bedroom and notice the empty whiskey bottle on the nightstand, as well as a small plate. Then it dawns on you.
“What did you take?”
“Some—pills. And whiskey.”
“I gathered as much. I meant, what pills did you take?”
Joel rubs his temples. “Dunno. Didn’t ask.”
That’s when you finally lose whatever shred of patience you had. The anger you feel is searing hot and white, and you are unable to control it, seeing as how you swiftly stand up, eager to get as far away from Joel as possible.
“So what was the plan?” you whisper through gritted teeth. “Mix alcohol and pills and just… never wake up?”
Joel barely blinks, avoiding your eyes, and the answer becomes crystal clear. It awakens a rage inside of you that you weren’t even aware you could feel.
“You know what? Fuck you, Miller. Fuck you and your selfish, self-destructive wishes. I don’t need this.”
Joel calls out your name, coarse and yet soft, but you pay no attention.
“I don’t need to be adding your death to my list of concerns!” you snap. “I really don’t! I’ve got enough shit to deal with as it is, and worrying whether you’re still breathing or not is not there, it should not—it shouldn’t be there! So fuck you! Fuck you for making me fall in love with you and then making me worry about you! You and Ellie… how the fuck can you think to do this?!”
“You—you what?”
“How can you think to do such a thing when you’ve got people around you who care about you?! Ellie, Tommy, Maria… me! Fucking—me, loving you day after day, night after night, and never getting easier because—“
Your chest is heaving, filled with heavy breaths. Your eyes are teary and your heart—oh, how it aches at the thought of losing this troubled man. It aches for him, incessantly so, and tonight is nothing if not a testimony to your accidentally spilled feelings.
It is now, in the aftermath of your anger, that you come to acknowledge you haven’t said the L word before, and that this is a huge deal for someone like Joel.
But he doesn’t say anything, and neither do you; you simply stare at each other, hearts breaking and aching for each other simultaneously. You’re the one who decides to break the silence.
“Do what you want, Joel.” There’s defeat in your voice, as well as in your eyes. It breaks Joel too in unexpected ways, but he finds his body too heavy to react properly. He can only look at you regretfully. “I can’t tell you what to do. But I thought…”
You pause simply to catch your breath, only now realizing how hard you’ve been breathing and how much this scenario has been weighing on you.
“I just thought the life we get to start over here in Jackson would provide some sort of comfort,” you finish saying, wiping your cheeks. “I really thought you might be okay, or if you weren’t, that you’d talk to me or Tommy.”
Joel coos your name, struggling to stand from the bed, but you put your hands up in some sort of defense.
“Do what you want, Joel.”
You do feel some form of regret as you exit the house, still crying. Guilt slowly overwhelms you for not asking what was wrong instead of lashing out like that, but the truth of the matter is, you panicked. The thought of losing Joel like that was too much to bear, and seeing him in that awful state, probably drowning in his own thoughts and pain, it was shocking and debilitating.
For both of you, yet in different ways.
You hear your name being called out in the distance, yet you do not turn around. Although you want to see him, to look at him and admire the liveliness in his face, you also don’t want to see the pain residing behind his eyes, the hollowness of them.
“It’s her birthday today.”
You stop, the information sinking in.
“Was,” Joel corrects himself as he approaches you, clearing his throat. “Today was her birthday. Every year, it fucking sucks. I always try to forget, to leave it behind. It never works. I always wake up somehow… and I always remember.”
Your face softens, turning to meet with this face. When you do, you see the devastation smeared all over it, the troubling ache and the desperate need to fix the situation, and you sigh involuntarily. You know Joel used to be a contractor in his former life, and so he’s used to building and fixing with his own hands.
The inability to fix the worst pain of his life must be the most troublesome feeling.
“I’m sorry,” it’s all you can muster. “It must be unbearable.”
“It wasn’t intentional. I just thought I’d… numb myself, and then I’d wake up. Guess I did.”
You fear you sense regret in his voice, but you don’t express your concern. Joel, however, inches even closer and shyly reaches for your hand, lightly stroking the back of your hand.
“I don’t want you thinkin’ I’m ungrateful for the life I have now,” he mumbles apologetically. “You and Tommy and Ellie, and even Maria… you’ve given me a new purpose.”
“I’m sorry I was so harsh. I—I panicked.”
Tears threaten to flood your eyes again and you take a big breath in while Joel holds both your hands now.
“I saw you there unconscious and… I just…”
He pulls you in for a hug, and you finally exhale, buried in his chest.
“I just want you around for as long as possible,” you whisper. “It’s selfish, I know, but—“
“Love is selfish, I guess. That makes me selfish too.”
Eyes widened, you remove yourself from his chest to stare incredulously at him. But Joel’s face no longer seems wrecked—not to that extreme degree, at least. He seems confident in his words, whereas you probably look like you’re doubting everything you’ve ever heard.
“Did you just say—?”
Joel’s lips stretch in the slightest, revealing the beginning of a shy, small smile, and your heart flutters.
“Maybe I should’ve said something sooner,” he coos. “Thought it was obvious.”
You scoff, still unable to believe. “I do,” Joel continues. “I really do. It’s not… easy for me to say, not always. Never thought I’d say the words, ever again, but… here you are.”
“I don’t want you saying anything just because I accidentally said them.”
“Accidentally?”
“Well… I didn’t plan on saying that I love you under these circumstances or that I’d blurt them out like that, but… here you are.”
Joel chuckles, the sound so easygoing and saccharine it weakens your knees.
“That’s okay,” he replies, his mouth curling softly into a smile. “I have a better memory now for this day.”
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller fluff#the last of us#the last of us fanfiction#the last of us fic#tlou#tlou fanfiction#tlou fic#tlou fluff#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal fluff#joel miller angst#pedro pascal angst
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Please do it I would love to read a fic about freaking Laurence getting his glass prescription or something like that. ( also i head cannon laur has such bad vision and he has to wear grandpa glasses) 

AN EYE FOR DETAIL
featuring : laurance, cadenza, & castor synopsis : cadenza convinces laurance to finally get glasses. but when they arrive for his appointment, something seems a bit off about this optometrist. tags : poor eyesight laurance, eye care, getting glasses, silly shenanigans, traumatized forever word count : 1.3k a/n : as someone who has incredibly bad eyesight and refused to wear my glasses for years, i figured, "hey, why don't i project my issues onto laurance?". well, that's what i did. the man has poor eyesight now. enjoy!
MASTERLIST
“I’m not wearing them, Cadenza!”
Laurance yelled, staring daggers at the pair of glasses within his sister’s hands.
“I mean- just look at it! It’s practically a relic!”
The glasses in question were his Grandfather’s; as they were very ancient looking in appearance. A lot was simply wrong about these spectacles: a slight crack had formed on the left lens, along with the hinges being extremely loose, and not to mention the thing just overall looking like it was from the 1960s.
In short? They sucked.
“Look, Laurance. I wouldn’t have to force you to wear these if you simply just, oh I don’t know, went to the eye doctor?” Cadenza put her hands on her hips, raising her eyebrow at the brunette.
Laurance twitched at the thought.
The eye doctor? Like hell he was going to the Optometrist!
Ever since he got pink eye when he was younger after playing with the pigs on his farm, he had always been afraid of the optometrist.
When he went in initially for a consultation all those years ago; the tools, lenses, and prescriptions freaked him out. Of course, he only needed eyedrops, so he wasn’t in dire need for any specific treatment, but still… The very idea of it horrified the poor man.
His eyes had always been sensitive.
The smallest eyelash, a drop of water, the slightest amount of soap from the shower; any of these things would easily bring the man to his knees in defeat. Hell, even seeing blurry or smudges through glasses would make his eyes water.
He was pretty vulnerable.
That is why this man downright refused to get his eyes checked.
The concept of looking through a possibly blurry lens just sends chills up his spine. Even though the action was needed to help prescribe the exact lenses he needed to see better, he just couldn’t bear it.
“I just- I can’t go, alright! That place freaks me out!” Laurance crossed his arms, raising his head in defiance.
Cadenza sighed, pulling out her phone. “If you don’t come with me to get glasses… I’ll text our dads to not allow you to babysit Caleb for a month.”
Laurance gasped dramatically, bringing a hand to his chest. “You wouldn’t dare.”
She flipped her phone over to Laurance, showing him the already typed out message she planned to send to Joh and Hayden. “Try me.”
Within the next hour, the two scheduled an appointment.
About a month later, Laurance was nervously pacing on the sidewalk outside a building named “Castor’s Eye Care”.
The brunette began to bite his nails nervously as Cadenza grabbed her purse from the car, rolling her eyes. She closed the car door behind her before walking up to her brother, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Relax, Laurance. It’ll be fine.”
“You’ll stay with me the whole time, right?”
At that, Cadenza winced. “Well… um…”
Laurance’s eyes widened before he covered his face with his hands. “Oh Irene, you’re leaving me.”
She released his shoulder, shaking her hands. “No, not at all! I’ll still be in the building with you, but I need to get my own reading glasses repaired.”
She started to walk towards the door, until she turned around to find Laurance standing in the same spot.
“Clock’s ticking, Laurance. Come on!” She looped her arm through his and dragged him along as he groaned.
As they stepped into the bright building, Laurance was immediately overwhelmed by just how many pairs of glasses there were across the walls.
Laurance looked around, his nerves starting to get to him, while Cadenza approached the desk to check them in. The generic pop music playing over the speakers was not helping in the slightest
After making sure they were ready for their appointments, Cadenza sat down on the bench by the window and patted the other side, silently asking Laurance to join her.
He sat down beside her, his leg shaking up and down as he kept his eyes focused on the door. Something in the back of his mind wished that the hinges would break, causing it to shut tight forever.
He never wanted to see beyond that very door.
Unfortunately, life seemed to always go against the poor brunette, as the door swiftly opened to reveal an older man with frizzled hair and a bandana. He looked around, almost confused, before his eyes landed on Laurance.
The man pointed at Laurance sternly, then motioned for him to come over.
Laurance nervously looked at Cadenza who nodded and pushed him out of the chair, causing Laurance to stumble forward. She smiled, speaking through her teeth, “Get your ass in there now or so help me, Laurance.”
With that, Laurance quickly made his way over to the curious looking optometrist, following him into the room.
The man motioned for him to sit on the chair, to which Laurance quietly complied; adjusting onto the leather chair with frantic nerves.
What didn’t help his anxiety were the countless pictures of chickens across the room’s walls.
Why were there so many chickens?
As the somewhat odd man began funneling through the cabinets, seeming to be looking for something, Laurance thought it best to break the tension with some small talk.
“So… how long have you been an eye doctor for?” He asked. He winced at the feedback that came from the song Toxic by Britney Spears playing obnoxiously through the telecom above.
“Ah, well, only a few weeks! Can you believe how easy it is to get a license in this sort of thing- aha found it!”
What.
As it seemed the man found the tool he was looking for, he whipped around to face Laurance with it in hand.
He was going to die here, wasn’t he?
Laurance tugged at his collar nervously, his leg continuing to bounce. “Wow that’s uh… certainly fast, Mr…?”
“Mr. Castor!”
Oh gods.
The building was named Castor’s Eye Care… this newly graduated doctor had finished his lessons and rented out a building all within the same month.
Laurance silently repeated prayers to Irene in his head as Castor approached, mysterious tool in hand. His eyes seemed to focus too bluntly on the object as Castor followed his line of sight to it. He quickly averted his eyes to one of the many pictures of chickens hanging about.
“Ah, this old thing?” He motioned at the tool. “Don’t worry, there’s nothing to fear! I’ve only been officially certified for a few weeks, but I’ve been doing this sort of thing in the Black Market for years!”
Black Market?! Who the hell allowed this guy to start a business?!
“Now, let’s take a look at those pretty green eyes of yours, shall we?”
His eyes were blue. He couldn’t even tell the color of his eyes– oh my Irene he was done for.
About an hour later, an absolutely horrified Laurance walked out of the room, his eyes blown wide in horror, red veins visible as Dr. Castor gave him a pat on the back.
“You did very well, Laurance! I can’t wait to see you back here to pick up your glasses in a few weeks!”
He has to come back?!
Laurance awkwardly laughed loudly, backing away while giving finger guns to the man. “G-Great! Can’t wait!”
The brunette quickly turned around, his eyes landing on Cadenza who was waiting by the bench, waving. She stood up and put her new glasses case in her purse before approaching Laurance.
“Ah, Laurance! You’re finally done! How was it-”
Without a second thought, Laurance pulled her by the arm and quickly raced out the store.
When the two made it to their car, Laurance had his hands on his knees as he caught his breath.
“Laurance? What’s wrong?”
“Britney Spears. Chickens. Black Market. Crazy.” He panted out the words, taking long pauses between each one. He quickly raised his head, looking Cadenza dead in the eyes.
“I’m never going back there again.”
@lovelaurs, 2024. do not repost this work in any way!
#lovelaurs fics#lovelaurs inbox#laurance zvahl#cadenza zvahl#castor the chicken shaman#mystreet laurance#mystreet cadenza#mystreet#mystreet castor
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WIP Wednesday
So, same fic as before. Here's something I'm very new to writing: smut! Quick info on the situation: Obikin, soul bond (through accidental alien marriage), they're both projecting thoughts without realizing who's thinking what, it gets spicy. Feelings are mutual, they just haven't quite figured it out. Feedback greatly appreciated!
Space breathed softly and the few other people on the ship were murmurs in the Force against the background hum of the universe.
Obi-Wan managed to reach an equilibrium, let those sounds vibrate through and past him like ripples from raindrops on the surface of a lake.
He felt it all in turn - the clones buzzing with not-yet-dissipated post-mission adrenaline; Ahsoka deep in thought, probably tinkering with her lightsaber. Her frustration was a blip in the force soon replaced with a delight at having invented a way forward. Next door, Anakin radiated restlessness again. Obi-Wan could imagine him, sitting on his cot and fiddling with a screwdriver mid prosthetic arm maintenance. Or maybe taking off his tabards and changing into something comfortable to try and meditate.
A thought rose in him, unbidden. A flash of heat, a vision bloomed behind his eyelids - Anakin. Anakin, eyes bright, chest exposed, robes slipping off his shoulder, a blush creeping up his neck. A breathless exhale - "Master."
An undignified sound escaped the Jedi's throat. His eyes flew open.
It wasn't the first time since his ex-Padawan's Knighting that such a thought found its way to him. It was a thousand little things he'd started noticing after Anakin's braid was cut - the broad sway of his shoulders, the gentle curls growing out around the base of his skull, his unfairly dramatic eyelashes. The swell of his lips. The power in him, the solid presence, the burning soul that ignited something long-dormant in Obi-Wan. It was as if a spark struck the kindling of his heart. Not since his mission on Mandalore had he felt this intense longing to reach for another, to let himself go up in flames. Still, it used to be easier to shut the stubborn feeling out and let it go into the Force.
This time, it was more. More insistent and consuming and treacherous as a whirlpool.
He imagined, for a second, what it would feel like to succumb to it, to let himself want. What it would be like to indulge the fantasy. He'd slide his hands down the firmness of Anakin's shoulders, watch the tide of fabric recede and expose the expanse of chest he'd been dying to touch - warmth to warmth, skin to skin. He'd press his fingers over Anakin's heartbeat and chase the feeling with his lips. He'd-
Obi-Wan inhaled slowly and blew out an exasperated breath. "You are above it," he told himself. "You are not lusting after your apprentice, have some force-forsaken self-respect."
Except maybe the universe disagreed. Another image bloomed in his head, this time certainly not of his own mind. Anakin on his knees, robes in a heap around him, a hand in his hair - Obi-Wan's hand. The dusting of ginger hair on his knuckles was unmistakable. Curls wound around his fingers, tugging. For a moment, he felt the same sympathetic pull against his own scalp. "Please," the other man's voice spilled in his mind, "I want to. Let me take you in my mouth." The rasp of Anakin's voice sent a shiver down his neck.
Obi-Wan felt both chilled and over warm. He was already half-hard. There was a phantom of feeling, ghost-like slide of fingertips against his inner thigh. It were Anakin's hands, he realized with a gasp, what he was doing to himself. The lust burning Obi-Wan alive wasn't just his own.
This had to be another feedback loop. Obi-Wan's improper thoughts probably slipped into the bond and ignited Anakin's mind. Obi-Wan knew that the young man would never truly want him, some moments of fantasizing aside. He also knew that he could project a thought, tug on the bond just a little and send Anakin's shields flying up. It would be easy, to be rid of this sweet torture. But Obi-Wan knew he wouldn't. He wouldn't lie to himself about that, at least.
The guilt he knew he'd feel was already creeping up on him, like fog settling in his lungs. He felt Anakin's hand go up his (their?) chest in caressing motions, skin tingling, and he told the guilt to shut it. Better to spare at least one of them the shame.
Then - rough grasp of fingers on his cock, mat colliding with his back, the lights dimming in his eyes for a moment from the rush of blood - he was dragged under into the tidal wave.
Obi-Wan watched the scene unfolding before his mind's eye: more than an observer, less than a participant. Anakin slipped his palm up and down in a rhythmic, languid pace. He moaned - in the bond, or outside of it, echoing through the wall. Obi-Wan didn't know. He could only feel that treacherous, slow pleasure spilling across his skin. He felt both their heartbeats speeding up in sync. The mark on his shoulder burned.
"Wish he'd want me", Anakin's voice lilted. Flashes of images flickered in the shared storm of their burning minds. Anakin's eyes looking up, pleading and dark. Moans being pushed out of him. Kiss-swollen lips and a trail of hickeys down his swan's neck. "I'd be so good, so good for him-"
More feeling, more touch: Anakin's hand squeezing and pulling and pushing at the head of his cock in just the right way. Suddenly, there was a rush of air against the campfire of his groin. Then the sting of teeth biting down over his knuckles - and a stifled moan in Anakin's sweet needy voice. He felt the heat of tongue slicking over the bite, and then that same heat, again around his shaft. "Wish he would let me. That thick cock down my throat-"
Obi-Wan surfaced from their bond into the shallows of his own lust. He'd wondered more than once before, how Anakin's full lips would look stretched around his cock. If he'd be confident in swallowing him down or if he'd make up for his inexperience with enthusiasm. How he'd concentrate, brows knitting together, on bringing his master pleasure. How all the sweet sounds of Anakin's own pleasure around the length and girth of Obi-Wan's dick.
Obi-Wan stifled a moan and fell back into the depths of their bound-together minds.
"Obi-Wan," Anakin's breathless voice keened. "Fill me up, let me- I-" The thought cut off with a whimper so desperate that Obi-Wan could almost physically hear it reverberate in the still air. More ghost sensations - a hand gripping his cock, slick fingers clutching at his thighs, the burn of them being held spread open. Anakin's voice in his head, high and wanton and needy - "Yours, Obi-Wan, take me, I'm yours, please-" And then it was all light, a supernova behind his eyelids.
Obi-Wan could hear his own hoarse breathing. Just his own breath, just his own need. He was painfully hard against his thigh. His nails left half-moon impressions in his palms. Dazed, he reached in. Precome slicked the soreness of his hand. Just some movement up the length of his cock - one, two strokes - and he shuddered apart.
After a moment of blessed darkness, the world slowly came back into focus. The mat was cool against Obi-Wan's back. The ceiling above him - dispassionately gray. He felt sweat cooling on his skin, his own heartbeat was thundering in his ears, pulsing at his fingertips as he tried to even his breathing.
"Oh, kark," a thought echoed in his mind, "I should not have done that".
#hertie's purple prose#obikin#current wip#my wips#wip wednesday#smut#is this readable? we're about to find out
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Brush And Floss To Fight Cavities And Other Villains
I forgot I even wrote this first half of a story - back in January of 2020.
SUMMARY: You'll never believe what happened to poor Tom today. He really got sent through the wringer - quite the rollercoaster of a day. But don't worry, Tom is going to tell you all about it. "It all started with this dream I had...."
But first let me blame @maryxglz for starting my morning off today far too fixated on young Tom and his teeth. Our dearest @maryxglz has been fueling our community with the most beautiful gifs for years. Look at this one! (Link to full post in blue.)
@maryxglz posted the above gif back in Dec 2018 in a perfect set of three all looping with perfect timing to showcase his mouth - those lips, that little tongue that peeks out in another gif, and those gleaming white teeth. And I haven't even mentioned the way those eyelashes brush his skin when they flutter closed like a butterfly sunning itself on my finger.
Only for his eyes to open back up with those pale ocean blue eyes that sparkle with ... GOD they are seductive! @maryxglz you have done it again!! He looks like a little coquette that I want to gobble up piece by piece!
[Clearing my throat, unsuccessfully trying to rid my voice of that hoarse gravely growl that undermines my desperate attempt to appear non-predatory.]
Brush And Floss To Fight Cavities And Other Villains
So after spending half my morning fixated on his teeth in this filthy erotic gif above that @maryxglz made, I remembered a stupid crack fic I started back in Jan 2020 that y'all may or may not get a kick out of. You tell me? It's 2111 words and somewhere I have a second chapter started. On AO3 I tagged it with warnings such as minor violence, dreams vs. reality, nightmares, teeth, tooth fairy, alternate reality, RPF Tom Hiddleston, crack fiction, I must've been on crack to write this. Sorry, no smut. It's not really RPF though - just a guy named Tom who looks exactly like the guy in the above gif by @maryxglz Enjoy.
This is from Tom's POV.
You know what saved me? Pilates. I was able to finally buck my hips hard enough to knock her off balance and free my legs from under me.
So it all started with this dream I had last night. You're going to think I'm crazy, but please hear me out.
In my dream, I woke up lying in bed still dressed, smelling like a saloon, and feeling like I'd been in a bar fight. My tongue was cracked and grooved from dehydration and mouth breathing; it felt like the floor of a desert and probably looked even worse. When I opened my eyes, I saw none other than the tooth fairy hovering above my bed with her face maybe 10 inches from mine. She was intently staring at my mouth until I snapped it shut. I was left with this awkward violated feeling, like she had seen me dancing naked in the kitchen.
"You're awake! Oh wonderful. This will be so much easier now." Her face lit up when she saw my eyes open. Her wings moved so fast that I hadn't noticed them until she did a happy spin with an extra swoop-dee-loop and flutter that scattered gold fairy dust all over me and the bed. Some got into my nose which I accidentally inhaled, sending me into a painful coughing fit. At some point I made the mistake of licking my lips; it tasted disgusting and bitter.
Once my cough settled down, I stared at her in disbelief, trying to figure out what or who she was. I hadn't noticed yet that I was dreaming, a concept still far out of reach, nor was I privy to the fact that she was after my teeth. I just felt groggy, still two sheets to the wind with my head feeling thick and fragile, so my mind wandered trying to remember why I would be hung over and where I had gone that night dressed in a tuxedo. In real life I knew I had stayed home, but my attire and the state of my health told another story.
During my internal debate of truth, facts, and misconceptions, the tooth fairy was flipping through some notebook mumbling to herself. All I could understand were random numbers she rattled off in no obvious sequence before she slammed the book shut.
"Right-ee-o then. You are Thomas William Hiddleston, correct?" She smiled with a very business-like receptionist's smile that was as superficial as her gold leaf lipstick.
"Yes." I had no idea what else to say since she wasn't wrong.
"Good. Now open wide please so I can take inventory."
I hadn't realized how little she was. Her face was so close to mine when she spoke that I could barely focus. Otherwise, she hovered beside the bed, slightly floating up and down and still far enough away to skew with my depth perception. Without my glasses or contacts in she was little more than a white blur that far away, appearing to float like an apparition or some energy being. I thought maybe she was an angel, since she wore white and her skin had a gold shine to it, as though she was her own nightlight.
When her hands grabbed my lips and pulled my mouth open, I was shocked that her hands were no bigger than a raccoon or maybe a tiny monkey. Her face came closer to look directly into my mouth. I just laid there and let her do whatever she wanted. I wasn't scared yet, just super weirded out and hoping the examination would be over soon.
She reached in and moved my tongue from one side to the other as she counted to herself, and mumbled things like:
"Yep."
"I knew it."
"Oh, that's no good."
"Yep. That one too."
"Well, that one can wait."
Leaning back she wrote some more things into her little notebook and shook her head. She scratched her chin furiously before writing more, then shook her head again.
"They are not going to be happy about this," she muttered to herself, but her voice was loud enough for me to hear.
In an attempt to lighten the mood as well as distract myself, I couldn't resist the urge to say anything to fill the silence. It didn't matter what I said, as long as I said something. This was unfortunate since what spilled out of my mouth was moronic.
"Well Doc, am I going to live or not? Just give it to me straight, Doc." I used some weird American accent that I couldn't identify, let alone tell you why I used it. I just felt stupid after I spoke out loud. The only other sound in the room was the low whir of her wings beating as fast as a hummingbird. Besides that, the silence was deafening, an assassin to any performer's ego. She completely ignored me as though I hadn't said a word. I'll admit that this wasn't a shock, since my comedic delivery needed a lot of work.
Without even acknowledging me, she put away her notebook somewhere and took a surgical mask out of her pocket. A little metal arm swung down from atop her head that had a huge magnifying glass attached to the end. The lens covered half of her face and from my view her eye was enlarged just as big as the lens.
"Okey dokey Tommy my dear. There is nothing to be afraid of. This will just take a few minutes and it won't hurt a bit. You'll only feel a tiny little bee sting."
"Bee sting?!" I jumped up and scrambled back across the bed. "WHAT isn't going to hurt? Because a bee sting DOES hurt! How do you know I'm not allergic to bee stings?"
“Tommy boy. Stay still." She advanced on my position until I fell off the bed.
I did a backflip, or more accurately a clumsy back roll and belly flop off the bed landing flat onto my face. Keeping my body low to the ground, I tried to crawl away from the bed toward the door. I didn't want to spook her since she seemed unpredictable.
Her advance was steady until I started to crawl, then she whipped around to block my path to the door and flew at me like a bat out of Hel. Knocking me back, the little demon planted herself on my chest trapping my knees still bent underneath me. This left me in an awkward and uncomfortable position with my arms pinned to my sides under her thighs. She may have been tiny, but no amount of wiggling and pushing would budge her. The laws of physics did not apply to this creature. Though she was tiny, she was fierce and weighed a ton.
The comedy of the scene was surreal; I, a very fit six foot two inch man, just got taken down and completely incapacitated by some little pixie devil the size of a large raccoon with wings.
She studied my eyes; she didn't look into them but AT them, first one and then the other, studying them as though she was reading a story we couldn't see, or listening to music we couldn't hear. I watched her facial expressions intensely, trying to interpret something, anything that she might give away.
"Can you hear me Tommy?"
I nodded. I thought I could hear her. My eyes were as big as saucers, so maybe I just saw her talk while my brain made assumptions about what she said. I rapidly blinked a few times to verify that my eyes were indeed open, but I couldn't figure out how to verify that my ears were turned on.
"OK. Good. I'm going to take three teeth, and then you can go back to sleep."
THREE? .... THREE TEETH!!
I shook my head violently, partially to make sure I was hearing things correctly, partially to rattle some things lose in case I was going crazy, and partially because I was really hoping this was a dream. I continued to shake my head plus as much of my upper body that I could, because there was no way in Hel I would let her near my mouth. I held my lips pursed so tight she would have needed a crowbar to get inside. She tried to grab the sides of my head to steady me, but I just thrashed harder.
"You need to settle down Mr. Hiddleston. Just open your mouth and you'll never even miss them. I promise! But I'm not leaving here tonight without them."
Anger and contempt formed in her eyes. Her hand pulled back and she swung. She slapped me so hard that I heard a bell ring.
In that stunned moment my mouth fell open and those tiny little monkey hands of hers dove into my mouth. She grabbed ahold of one of my molars and started yanking at it. I've never before felt anything so bizarre or disturbing.
If that little angel hadn't fallen from heaven already, she surely would soon. The anger in her eyes glowed like the flames of Hel as she glared at me; she looked scary. Those tiny little hands pushed down on my windpipe at just the right spot. With the creepiest smile flashing large bright white perfectly straight teeth, she watched me struggle and gasp for air. I slammed my knees into her back several times, but she didn't budge.
"Well my dear sweet Tommy-Boy, looks like we'll have to anesthetize you in order to retrieve what we are due. Now just close your eyes. That's it. Go to sleep."
The lack of oxygen to my brain started to take its toll. I stared up and the world slowly was swallowed by a black cloud encircling her so she became this golden flame still visible inside my rapidly diminishing vision; she was the only light within a vast darkness. The irises of her eyes spiraled with green and gold as everything grew darker and darker until all I could see were those eyes and hear her saying "Tommy-Boy" over and over again.
It was terrifying! I thought I was going to die.
With my last ounce of strength before I completely succumbed to an unconscious void, with one last abdominal crunch to literally save my life, my knees hit her back with enough force to push her off me.
I sat up, coughing and drawing as much air into my lungs as I could, but no sooner had I caught my breath that she knocked it right out of me again. I heard this shrill scream behind me seconds before I felt the impact. She flew full throttle into my back and sent me rolling across the floor.
With my adrenaline pumping overtime by this point, I felt like Kong as I stood up and reached for her as she flew around me just outside of my grasp. Swooping in and out, stabbing me repeatedly with something sharp, she hissed in response to my roars.
Then I got her!
My giant gorilla hand wrapped around her ankle and threw her to the ground. Dust plumed up from the carpet like a cloud, leaving a small crater on my bedroom floor.
Finally I had knocked the wind out of her giving me the upper hand for a mere moment, but that was plenty of time. I roared into her face with the fury of a wild animal before grabbing her feet. Lifting her up into the air like a rag doll, I slammed her body back down to the ground again and again and again.
Eventually she just disappeared out of my hands in a sparkling puff of smoke, leaving me standing alone and bewildered. I sat back down on the edge of the bed staring at the state of my room wondering how I would ever explain the damage to the floor, especially considering that every surface of my room was covered with a sparkling gold glitter.
Looking at my hands and legs, I was covered with the same glowing gold dust. I couldn't rub it off no matter how hard I tried. Finally I just gave up and flung myself back onto the bed absolutely exhausted.
'What the fuck just happened to me?` was all I could think as I drifted back to sleep.
"Tom! Tom!"
I felt something kicking at my leg still dangling off the bed, and I heard myself grunting with each kick to the shin. That sensation was real, very real. My shin would surely develop a huge bruise quickly.
"Ouch!" I finally moaned almost intelligibly.
"Thomas William Hiddleston! Wake up you asshole!"
I'm just tagging a handful of people off the top of my head who might have a good laugh or remember the first time I posted this. @nildespirandum @ladyoftheteaandblood @caffiend-queen @redfoxwritesstuff @myoxisbroken @imanuglywombat @jtargaryen18 @so-easy-to-love-me @acidcasualties @americasass81 @muddyorbs @lokisgoodgirl @frostbitten-written @talklokitome @latent-thoughts @mooncat163 @fictive-sl0th @mastreworld @gigglingtiggerv2 @deceitfuldevout @lokischambermaid @mochie85 @alexakeyloveloki @devikafernando @holymultiplefandomsbatman
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Epic Steddie Fic Rec (February 5th-March 5th 2023)

Damn, has it already been a month? Time flies! I've had a few busy weekends, I've been away from home for a few of them, so that's why the momentary absence. I hope you enjoy this!
I just want to take a moment to mention that I'm selling some "fandom" bookmarks that I've made! If you like the Avengers, Captain Marvel, The Madalorian, Baby Yoda, or Star Wars, I have some fabrics for you! You can find the info here!
Complete
🖤 it's brutal out here by ithinkicouldloveher (Modern AU, Teacher Steve, Soulmates | 16K | Explicit): or, steve harrington hasn’t yet found his soulmate, but between his best girl eleven jane, the whirlwind that is robin buckley, and a wily group of third graders, he’s got plenty enough on his plate. that is, until another single father by the name of eddie munson stumbles into (the wrong) class.
In Cabin D by blueeyesandpie (Post-S4, Trans Male Eddie, Cabin fic | 6K | Explicit): Steve and Eddie take the party camping...and end up with a cabin to themselves. They've been together a while, but this is their first chance to do anything; they take full advantage.
sun down, you’re up by tkhwh (PWP, Trans Male Eddie | 1,6K | Explicit): Eddie wakes up with Steve plastered against his back while he’s still inside of him after a long, long night. Looks like he has a long, long morning ahead of him too.
All Day Event by Lynn1998 (PWP, Trans Male Eddie | 7K | Explicit): Steve and Eddie are meeting up with Robin and Nancy at the fair. It’s impossible for them to go anywhere without putting their hands on each other.
🖤 we can love each other (i've been told it's okay) by deadratz (Post-S4, Friends to Lovers | 15K | Explicit): Eddie has wondered for a while if Steve knows what kind of signals he sends. He’s wondered if Steve realizes what kinds of things he implies while talking about his failed dates. Eddie ignores it because that’s safer than addressing it. Until it’s clear ignoring it isn’t doing anyone any favors. (Alternatively: Is it gay to sit in your boy best friend's lap while you talk about how bored you are with heterosexual sex? Depends on who you ask.)
Reach Out by VenusDoom3 (No Upside Down AU, Canon Divergent, Getting Together | 5K | Explicit): “I didn’t know how much I’d miss you until you were gone. Right before you left, I kinda… figured some things out about myself, but I didn’t know if you’d… but I missed my chance to find out.” Without knowing he intended to speak, Eddie opened his mouth, vaguely surprised at the dusty rasp of his voice. “You didn’t know if I’d what?” “Y’know.” His face flushing even more deeply red, Steve smiled awkwardly. “Be interested.”
"You ever been in love?" by HairMetal666/ @hairmetal666 (Canon Divergent, Post-S2 | 12K | Teen): It's fall 1984 and Eddie starts passing notes with an anonymous classmate. It changes his life
🖤pulling your strings by Thorinoakentwig/ @thorinoakentwig (Time Loop AU | 14K | Teen): He wakes up to the melody of Kate Bush and the sound of Dustin and Lucas arguing about what sounds like who would win in a fight between Batman and Superman. It’s like ice water dripping down his spine and Steve jerks up wide eyed and horrified as the kids look over at him in confusion. (Or: Steve lives the same day over and over again trying to save his friends)
Let's Be More Than Strangers by DrowningByDegrees/ @drowningbydegrees (Canon Divergent, Season 3, Fake Relationship | 19K | Teen): It’s meant to be a one-off favor to Robin, Eddie passing himself off as her boyfriend. Robin gets to hang onto the secret of why she never so much as bats an eyelash at the guys who come into Scoops Ahoy. Eddie gets more ice cream than he knows what to do with and the opportunity to pull one over on the former King of Hawkins High. Unfortunately, it all works just a little too well, and Eddie finds himself continuing to come back. Before any of them know it, Eddie is annoyed to find he’s pining over a straight boy, Steve is drowning in guilt as he falls just a little bit in love with his friend’s boyfriend, and Robin would really like them to figure out their nonsense before she dies of secondhand embarrassment.
🖤 Ahoy, Big Boy by ChronicRabbit/ @chronicrabbit (Canon Divergent, Season 3 | 80K | Explicit): Scoops Ahoy. America’s favorite place to cool down, and quite possibly the lamest summer job under the blazing Indiana sun. Especially if you were former High School royalty, brutally rejected by each and every university you’d applied to and promptly cut off by your shitty parents in an effort to teach: “some goddamned responsibility.” Between accidentally intercepted secret Russian communications, a meddling preteen matchmaker with no collarbones, and increased proximity with Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson, a measly $3 an hour plus tips is nowhere near enough to deal.
WIP
Burning Love by FluffyChicken (Modern AU, Firefighter Steve | 9/12 | 39K | Explicit): Firefighter Steve Harrington meets one Eddie Munson and their lives change forever.
🖤 better by you, better than me by palmviolet/ @palmviolet (Canon Divergent, Season 1-2 | 20/? | 106K | Mature | Warning: Violence): November 1983. Between unpaid bills, the supposedly straight jock he’s seeing, and letters from his convict dad, seventeen year old Eddie Munson’s got enough to worry about. But when Will Byers goes missing, it sparks a chain of events that will show there are more depths to Hawkins — and to certain people in it, like infamous Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington — than he realizes. / or, the excessively long slow-burn in which Eddie is involved in the Upside Down from the very beginning.
🖤 here be dragons by pukner/ @pukner (Canon Divergent, Autistic Steve & Eddie | 3/? | 19K | Explicit): Eddie Munson has kissed a boy, and now he has to handle the fallout. He’s got to grapple with the fact that he likes boys, likes a boy, and the harrowing fact that he may have inadvertently broken said boy’s heart. (Part 3 of off-script)
Reboot by plutosrose/ @plutosrose (Modern AU, Actor Steve & Eddie | 3/10 | 10K | Explicit): In 2012, Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson film a scene in the teen drama Normal Stuff that launches a popular ship on ao3. By early 2013, they aren’t speaking anymore. In 2024, Robin calls Steve with an offer to reprise his role as Andy Hartley in a reboot of their old show, with one important update–his character gets together with Eddie’s.
🖤 Steve Harrington’s Radical Fun Time Babysitting Service by Humanities_Handbag/ @humanityinahandbag, Invader_Sam (No Upside Down AU, 90’s | 23/? | 88K | Mature): Alternatively: Steve accidentally starts a babysitting service, falls in love, panics [in bisexual], and gets himself a boyfriend. (Part 1 of 90’s Music Store AU)
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She’s An Angel
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Spencer discovers that Reader has a rather promiscuous personality behind closed doors, and he can’t help but give into her. Category: SMUT (18+), (there’s a lil fluff at the end, but it’s mostly filth lol) Warnings: Language, heavy flirting and sexual tension, female/male-receiving oral sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, innocence kink (kinda?), breeding kink, dirty talk Word Count: 10.8k
***EDITED: 7/23/2021***
MASTERLIST
NOTE: Hi, guys! This is my entry for @willowrose99 ‘s 1-Year Writing Challenge Celebration! My prompts were: Only Angel by Harry Styles (fun fact, this is my favorite Harry song! And the notes/texts that Reader sends to Spencer are lines from the song), stealing clothes, and the dialogue “You know, I kinda like it when you call me -pet name-” I hope you all enjoy it! I had SO MUCH FUN writing this!!!
Also! Little fun fact: sex and metaphors/references to religion is like... my favorite thing in the whole world, so I made a tiny playlist for you to give a listen if you’re interested! If you have song recs so I can add them, please let me know! I’m always on the lookout for new stuff :) Enjoy!!
***
He didn't think much of it the first day she started working at the BAU. If anything, Spencer was glad that they had an intern— someone who could share some of their responsibilities without completely changing the dynamic of the work. She even became part of their family, going out with them after cases, attending every workplace gathering, whether it be a wedding for a co-worker they didn't see often, one of Rossi's dinner parties, or Henry's birthday party.
It wasn't until they were setting up for the BAU office Halloween party that he noticed something was... different.
Y/N and Spencer were put on decorating duty while everyone else brought food and music, and whatever else. They stopped by extra early to set up, meaning they would be there together, alone, for at least two hours before anyone showed up.
Normally that wouldn't have been anything to worry about, but Y/N showed up in costume, and it completely threw him for a loop.
Now, he wasn't one to really care whether or not people used Halloween as an outlet to dress like sexy nurses or cheerleaders or whatever else. Sure, he'd rather go with something on the scary side, something with a creepy mask or intricate makeup, but in the end the holiday was everyone's to enjoy how they wanted to. And one way or the other, he never saw anyone in a sexy Halloween costume and found himself tempted by them in the slightest. In fact, it was rare that he ever saw anyone in one at all.
So, when Y/N slowed up to the office wearing a very skin-tight, tiny schoolgirl costume, and his heart leapt out of his chest, mouth going dry and blood running hot at the sight of her?
He was a goner.
Her eyes lit up when she saw him, dropping the large bag she was carrying to run over and give him a hug, which he shakily returned, trying to snap out of his daze. Suddenly he felt a little underdressed, not wearing his costume yet, and truthfully, he wasn't sure if he wanted to wear one at all now, fearful that she'd think it was too immature.
Even more frightening than the holiday itself was the fact that Spencer found himself caring about what Y/N would think of his costume when a minute ago it hadn't even crossed his mind.
He cleared his throat and blinked rapidly before she released him from her hug, hoping to expel his fear and remember that she was his friend and she'd never actually say anything bad about his costume. Not that that'd even mattered in the first place. It shouldn't have mattered, right?
God, pull yourself together! She's just a pretty girl dressed in a suggestive costume, it's nothing you haven't seen before...
Though, he wasn't even sure he could call her a pretty girl right then.
Because when she pulled away from him, talking about some of the decorations she brought, he had ample opportunity to get a good look at her costume up close. And she wasn't pretty. She was downright sexy, all legs protruding underneath a short plaid skirt and adorning shiny black heels, curly hair tumbling down her shoulders in pigtails. Her shirt was so low, most of the buttons undone to reveal a black lacy bra underneath. She wore a pair of glasses that sat cutely on the tip of her nose and minimal makeup, the only noticeable thing being bright red lip color.
That wasn't what was different, though.
Sure, she'd never worn anything that scandalous around work or even on nights out, but it wasn't the fact that she'd done so now that felt strange. No, it was the way she looked up at him, her head hung low and her eyes looking up through eyelashes. When she got excited to tell him something, she pitched her voice higher. And often times, she'd put herself in compromising positions, and it seemed like it was on purpose.
At one point she stood right in front of him trying to hang a streamer on a beam she was most certainly not tall enough to reach. Her arms stretched high, all fabric on her body rising up and exposing more skin. Spencer quickly tried to avoid any problems, offering to help so she wouldn't hurt herself, first of all, but also so that he wouldn't find himself staring too long when he shouldn't have been staring at all.
The whole time they were decorating, she found excuses to drop things and pick them up, to stumble and hold onto his arm for steadiness, to accidentally brush past him... And that's what was so different about her.
He didn't want to assume she'd been drinking before coming to the office, and if he'd known any better he wouldn't have assumed it in the first place. But that was the one and only thing that crossed his mind that could have been the answer to her strange behavior, despite the lack of alcohol on her breath. (The only reason he knew her breath didn't smell of alcohol was because at one point, she hugged him again and pulled back to look in his eyes, brushing stray curls from his face and telling him they did a good job finishing up the room they'd been working on.)
Now they were in the conference room, and Spencer was hanging streamers as Y/N sat in one of the chairs, wheeled back to the middle of the room so she could observe everything. Well... observe Spencer was more correct. At least that's what he figured, anyway. It was like he could feel her eyes burning into the back of him. Or maybe he was just still unable to get over the fact that she and her stupidly hot costume had had that big of an effect on him.
He stood down from the chair and asked Y/N to hand him more tape, refusing to look at her.
"Spence, are you alright?" she asked sweetly, rolling her chair over to the table so she could reach the tape. The innocent concern in her voice had that same suspicious tone to it that wouldn't leave him alone, like it was nagging him and calling to him... begging to confront her.
He flicked his gaze down to meet hers for the briefest of seconds before looking back at the table. "N—Yeah, I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" She picked up the tape and toyed with it between her fingers, which were manicured a light pink color. He couldn't help but stare at them. "You seem a little... on edge."
With a swallow, an attempt to bring moisture back to his throat, Spencer shook his head. "I'm... No, I'm sure. Everything's fine."
Y/N sighed. "Well, I've been working with you profilers for some time now, and... I think I can tell when you're lying. Was it... something I did?"
There she went again, her voice high and soft. Innocent. Like she was in character.
Spencer looked at her face again, and then immediately he regretted it. She was half pouting at him, doe-eyed and head tilted to expose her neck. He swallowed again, trying to figure her out while also figuring out what to say.
"No," is what he settled on, audibly nervous.
She could tell, too, because he thought he saw her smirk for just a split second. But then it was gone, replaced once again by her pout. "Oh... Good. Because I thought for a second that you didn't like my costume."
She obviously had to be up to something, right? Was she... flirting with him? And more importantly, did he want her to flirt with him? He'd never really thought about Y/N in that context before, but she was single, beautiful, and... well, truthfully that's all he really knew about her. They'd been friends for about a year now, and he couldn't put together one single thought about her other than the stuttering, muddled confusion over the fact that she was in a sexy Halloween costume and most likely openly flirting with him.
What was that Emily said once about his IQ dropping in the presence of a pretty woman?
Y/N had rendered him utterly thoughtless.
And speechless, too, apparently, because he stood there, staring at her without saying a single word.
"Spencer," she called out softly, almost like a lullaby. Her chair rolled back, away from the table to give him a better view of her legs as she un-crossed them and very slightly opened her knees. "Do you think I'm pretty?"
As if he wasn't already practically burning inside-out since the moment she arrived at the office, now his blood ran hot, and he was suddenly very uncomfortably warm. "U—Um, y—yes, you're... You're beautiful, y—your costume... It's nice, it looks nice on you."
Her pout slowly turned into a smile as she patted her knees. "Thank you... I wore it just for you, you know."
Is this some sort of bizarre dream? he wondered, his knees almost buckling at her words, their tone, and the meaning of it all.
"Y—You did?" he whispered brokenly.
"Mnmm," she drawled as her fingers toyed with themselves. "You teach, right?"
"Sometimes."
Y/N hummed and nodded, her legs still closed enough that he couldn't see anything... extra promiscuous. "You know, I bet you have quite a few students who find you attractive... Tell me, do any of them dress like this?"
She leaned back in the chair and started to run her hands slowly up the inside of her thigh, just above her knee. "Do they ever... Sit in the front row and... spread their legs just enough for you to see the pretty panties they picked out... just for you..."
By now her hands were resting on the inside of her thighs, her legs spread in exactly the way she'd described. He couldn't help himself. There she was, offering herself to him, and in his line of vision was the faintest glimpse of baby pink fabric that matched the color of her fingernails.
He didn't even know how to verbally respond. By now he was sure his face was beet red, and his palms were sweating so badly and struggling to keep him upright as he leaned forward on the table. Ah, the table— the only thing separating him from her, a fact which he wasn't quite sure if he was thankful for or not.
The spell she had around her broke when her phone rang. And just like that, it was like she was... herself again. At least, the 'herself' Spencer had always known. She sat up and walked over to the other side of the room to grab her phone from her bag, reading the screen as he struggled to catch his breath.
"It's Penelope. She has a costume emergency I have to help with. Are you good putting the rest of these up?"
"U—Um, yeah. Yeah, go."
Y/N smiled and grabbed her bag, thanking him as she walked past and left him behind.
He heard her call back as her figure was etching itself into his brain, ready to remain there until the end of time. "Can't wait to see your costume!"
***
Luke and Tara were having a conversation that he was supposed to be paying attention to, but Spencer's mind was still occupied by Y/N and her... outward display of sensuality.
Her voice was echoing in his brain, replaying over and over how she'd dressed up for him. And the longer he tried to wrap his brain around everything, the more he wound up confused. Where had her forwardness even come from? Had she been actively interested in him this whole time and he just hadn't seen it until now? A possibility, but why had she chosen to go to that extreme rather than just tell him the truth? Maybe she'd just found being overtly sexual an easier tactic than others?
Or maybe, in the end, she was just messing with him. Even though Derek had moved away, it was entirely possible that he'd somehow concocted one of his ridiculous pranks and roped Y/N into helping him since he wasn't around to do it himself. A smart move, though it was highly unlikely.
Spencer just didn't know what to do. Depending on how the rest of the night went, he was probably just going to have to muster up the courage to ask her what her intentions were. And depending on what she says, he was going to have to figure out what he wanted from their relationship... Did she want just sex? Did he want just sex? Did she want to go out with him? Is that something he would want as well?
He was just about to mull it over when Penelope's boisterous laugh sounded from the other side of the room. Spencer looked up, eager to see if Y/N was with her, since she'd been called away on a costume emergency. Penelope was dressed as a devil, red sparkly horns on her red-streaked, curled hair. She was dressed head-to-toe in a red dress and shoes that felt very much like her, with feathers and sequins, and her makeup was also red and black and absolutely glittery.
And sure enough, behind her stood the woman who'd been occupying Spencer's mind for the past hour and a half. Though, she wasn't dressed as a schoolgirl anymore.
He found himself swearing under his breath as he took her in, shimmering where she stood, dressed in all white.
She was an angel.
An actual angel. Her hair fell loose around her, accessorized with a headband with a golden halo attached to it. Her dress was still pretty form-fitting, though nowhere near as scandalous as her previous outfit. It was long and flowed out at the bottom until it hit the floor, a ring of gold at the hem. The sleeves were also long and bell-bottomed, accented with gold at the end.
And from where Spencer stood, even that far away, he noticed the glitter that surrounded her eyes, gold to compliment the color on her dress. Her lips were still bright red, and her glasses were gone. And the wings... As small as they were—most likely to keep from taking up too much space—they stood out in any crowd, purely white and outlined in gold, just like the rest of her outfit.
Why had she changed? Did... she actually change at all? Had he truly only imagined their encounter hours ago?
"Any... specific angels crossing your mind?" Spencer heard Luke say, punctuated with a pat on the shoulder.
He blinked and looked at him. "What?"
"Y/N... She makes a pretty good angel, eh?"
"Uh, yeah, I—I guess so."
Luke and Tara laughed, obviously amused by all of this. But they hadn't seen her earlier. They hadn't been there to witness her seducing him and acting like she'd done it a million times over. They didn't know what she was doing to him, inhabiting every corner of his brain and driving him mad trying to figure it all out.
But it wasn't uncommon for his friends to tease him about the female attention he got sometimes. And when it was obvious that he was flustered, they kept the friendly teasing going. And every time, he settled on leaving it alone, because he knew it would pass and he wouldn't have to worry about it again, at least until the next woman hit on him in public.
And Y/N? She worked with them. As long as she was in his head, he was afraid he'd never stop being flustered in her presence.
So he had to know. He had to talk to her and see what was going on, no matter how awkward it might get.
For now though, it was Halloween, and he was going to spend the night with his friends while doing the very rare amount of drinking and the more frequent amount of laughter.
The night didn't come without a few looks in Y/N's direction, though. She never came up to him directly, though a few times he'd catch her looking at him. And each time, she'd wave and continue on her merry way, laughing with Emily or doing some silly dance with Penelope in their coupling costumes.
Honestly, if earlier hadn't happened, he would have thought nothing of it. She was being completely normal. Happy, friendly... Simply Y/N, as he'd known her for the past year and a half.
He just finished saying goodbye to JJ, who was leaving early to go trick-or-treating with her kids, when she finally approached him. At the sight of her getting closer, her otherworldliness making his blood go warm again, he tried to compose himself. After all, there was no way she'd do anything sensual in public like this, right?
"I didn't get a chance to compliment you on your costume yet," she said brightly, her voice not carrying that higher tone from before. "You make a very believable zombie."
He looked down at his tattered clothes, a small laugh escaping him. "Thank you... It's no high-level makeup job, but I tried my best."
When he looked back up to her, the shimmer of her makeup basked her in a glow that made it incredibly hard to breathe. She really was pretty. Still sexy, of course, but in an understated way this time.
And he couldn't help but bring up the difference. "You... changed."
Something sparkled in her eyes then, giving them a devious glint that inherently contradicted her costume, and the mere implications of that made him tremble, especially as she said, "Mhm... I figured the schoolgirl costume was a little too inappropriate for the workplace. And besides... I did say I wore it just... for you..."
So he hadn't imagined the whole thing... On the one hand he was relieved to know he wasn't freaking out over something that hadn't actually happened. But... on the other, what did that leave him with?
It left him with a woman who was standing in front of him, dressed like an angel while giving him all sorts of devilish feelings.
Once again she'd rendered him speechless, though now his thoughts were filled with images of those pretty, glimmering eyes above him, watching as he worshipped her between her legs... Of her hands twisted in his hair as he showed her just how much he wanted her, to show her how beautiful she was.
Those thoughts were interrupted when she got closer, toying with a stray curl that stuck out from his head. She twirled it around her finger and looked up at him, doe-eyed again as she purred, "Happy Halloween, Doctor Reid."
She was gone too quickly, whisked away by the throes of an office holiday party that, one way or another, served as the beginning to a long, tempestuous affair.
***
In the weeks that followed, Spencer went about his days as normally as he could, focusing on work, and getting ready for another month of teaching, where he'd be away from his friends and, therefore, also away from Y/N.
It's not that he necessarily wanted to be away from her... Yet, after constant flirting with no direction other than his dreams filling with filthy images of the two of them together and no actual outlet for it, he figured a break would do him some good. Of course, he wasn't sure what would await him when he came back—if she'd forget about all of it and give up or if she'd come at him stronger than before.
It was his final day before leave, and so naturally, Y/N had to make it hard on him. He was sure that's what she was doing.
Since it was getting colder, she strayed away from skirts, though occasionally she would show up to work in a longer dress or a shirt that hugged her in all the right places, especially on the days that he would be working with her more. She had the BAU's schedules on hand always, so she had to be using that as a way to get to him.
On those days, she often used her higher pitch when she spoke to him, and her eyes were always adventurous— they wandered over every part of his body and sometimes quickly blinked away when he caught her, accompanying an embarrassed smile. (Though, Spencer was convinced she really was absolutely not embarrassed.)
Other times she pulled the "Oops, I dropped something," trick, and "You know, it's almost Winter but it's still so warm in here, don't you think?" followed by a stretch of her body as she slowly put her hair up or dragged it over her shoulder.
His plan was to wait until he got back from leave, assess their situation from there after he'd cleared his head for a while, and then talk to her about what the hell was going on. Though the thought of confronting her scared him a little, he knew he couldn't let this go on any longer without some sort of conversation about what was next... What it all meant. It would drive him crazy otherwise.
With all the sensual, suggestive looks and actions she was throwing at him, though, it was a wonder he hadn't gotten to that point already.
As if she'd figured this out—because of course she would have found a way to get into his brain and know what he was thinking and feeling before he could even do so himself—Y/N stood by a storage closet with a clipboard. She pretended to write things down, when in reality she was looking up at him every so often, biting her lip and crossing her legs where she stood. She looked utterly desperate for something, almost like it was painful for her to be deprived of whatever it was she was looking for.
Spencer had a sneaking suspicion he knew what that was. And the thought sent a wave of electricity through his veins. All day she'd been going extra hard in attempts to catch his attention, and since it was his final day before leaving for a month, he knew that had to be the reason why.
If catching his attention was her goal, she'd definitely succeeded.
Across the room, and across a small sea of co-workers who were head-down, going through paperwork, he caught her eye and waited, his fingers twitching like they wanted to reach out to her. She tilted her head to the side and tucked her bottom lip between her teeth, staring back at him like she was in a daydream.
And sure enough, she was standing underneath a light, one singular beam that sat atop her head like a halo and bathed her in a soft glow.
Even without the costume, she was an angel... For a moment Spencer wondered if maybe she'd planed on it all from the start— making her move by dressing like an angel on Halloween for one night and then finding any way on purpose to replicate that presence without actually dressing up again. Was it a way to mess with his head, to make him believe that she was calling to him? That she would... save him somehow?
He had to know what she was doing.
So he gave in and stood up, his eyes keeping contact with hers as he got closer and closer. Before he could get to her, though, she winked and then turned around, entering the storage closet and disappearing before his eyes. Still, he followed her, desperately hoping that's what she wanted.
And with a silent prayer that felt ironic as he thought it, Spencer opened the door and entered the adventure that awaited him. Whether it would be heavenly or otherwise he wasn't sure, but either way he was ready to confront it.
Y/N had turned on a desk lamp, its orange glow the only source of light in an otherwise pitch-black space. She leaned back against a table, still standing with her legs crossed over each other, hands bracing themselves on the tabletop. "How's it going, Doctor Reid?"
"What are you doing?" he asked, almost immediately after she greeted him. Now that he was alone with her, away from unassuming eyes, he exhaled and visibly showed his confusion through pleading eyes. "Please, I need to know what you're doing..."
He barely saw the contours of her face through dim lighting as she smiled. "What do you mean?"
"Y/N... Don't do that." He took a step closer, even though the quick beating of his heart signaled that it might have been a dangerous move. "Tell me..."
"Isn't it obvious?" she cooed, her hands coming out to toy with the hem of her frilly skirt.
As he looked down at it, he had to wonder if there really was a God out there, some higher being that sent this angel down to destroy him. How else did it stand to happen that even though it was nearing the end of November, the one day it was warm enough for Y/N not to freeze while wearing a skirt was the final day he had before leaving for a whole moth?—Before it was inevitably snowy and she wouldn't have the luxury to tease him with her skin?
She must have caught his lingering gaze on her legs, because she laughed softly, spreading them to stand a bit further apart while her fingers very lightly pushed the fabric of her skirt up. "I've been trying to get your attention ever since I got here... But you never seemed to notice. So I figured... Why not be a little more... forthcoming..."
"Y—You could have... said something," he whispered, forcing himself to look at her face. But as he was learning, he couldn't look at any part of her without his whole body going up in flames.
By now she was walking closer to him, small, languid steps that perfectly showcased how her body could move. "Well... Truth is, I was scared... Every time I tried to talk to you, I got really nervous..." Her voice was demure, apologetic almost... Embarrassed. But it had to have just been part of the allure, right? Part of her show? "You're just so... intimidating."
Spencer swallowed, a small laugh coming from him as he tried not to collapse at her closeness. "I'm... I'm really not..."
But she laughed, finally close enough to reach out and grab his tie, which is what she did. She held the fabric in her hands for a few seconds before letting it drop, bringing her pointer finger to gently trace patterns on his chest. "Not in a mean way, silly... You're... incredibly smart, and you're good at your job... You're always so nice to everyone... And I bet you really know how to make a girl feel good..."
He found himself trembling under her touch again as she brought her hand down to meet his. She leaned up to nudge his chin with her nose as she moved his hand to the inside of her thigh. It was only the slightest of touches, nothing rushed or passionate about it. In fact, Y/N seemed more taken with the idea of using her touch to draw everything out— to make him pine for it, lose all semblance of sanity until he finally gave in and did whatever he wanted to her.
"Don't you wanna know what it feels like to touch me?" she whispered, her breath hot on his neck. Meanwhile her hand guided his own farther up her skirt, until he felt her skin getting warmer and warmer with each millimeter. His throat was dry, breath shaky as he fluttered his eyes closed and embraced the moment, embraced the guidance... "To feel how wet you make me?"
His heart practically leapt out of his chest once his hand was finally met with said wetness. Her panties were damp and oh so warm, and he couldn't stop the whine that left his throat as she pressed his fingers hard into her against the fabric. Her fingers covered his like a glove, guiding them in small circles over her clothed clit as she sighed into his neck.
"You feel that?" she asked, nuzzling into his skin. "That's what you do to me, Doctor. From the moment I saw you, I knew you'd ruin me..."
He breathed a laugh then, finding it utterly ironic how that's how she felt. She could have just been toying with him, but there was enough longing and desperation in her voice to let him know she really meant it. She'd been waiting for him to come along and whisk her away...
So that's what he was going to do.
Spencer removed his hand from her then, walking them over to the table and pulling her right to him by gripping the waistband of her panties and keeping her still. The gasp she let out fueled him in a way that would have wrecked him if the job hadn't already been done. As he looked down at her, her body was basked in the soft orange luminescence of the desk lamp, a sight that aesthetically added to his desire and farther fueled the heat that had been accumulating in his veins, waiting to be released.
"Is that what you want, angel?" he breathed, the words even taking him by surprise. His sexual experience was far from non-existent, but it was limited enough that he'd never acted this feral before. Never had a partner ever had this strong of a hold on him, so tight that he found it a struggle to breathe. Add on the fact that he wanted to embrace that struggle if it meant being this way with her, and you had a man who was completely unraveling under the allure of one single woman until she ultimately brought forth his demise. "You want me to ruin you?"
Though he was giving in, like he assumed she wanted in the first place, Y/N hummed, tilting her head again and blinking up at him. "You know, I kinda like it when you call me angel..."
Spencer gripped the fabric tighter, and she whined. "Is it what you want?" In other words, Do you want this?
Y/N nodded, and then he crashed his lips with hers as he tugged at her panties and let them drop to the floor in a pool around her feet. She flung her arms around his shoulders and pressed herself into him more, allowing his tongue to part her lips and explore her with liveliness. She was more than welcome to embracing it, verbally giving him praises in the form of whimpers and physical ones in the form of her hips rolling forward to get more friction.
As one of his hands found purchase under one of her thighs, he thought back to Halloween night, and how he'd imagined his head between her legs. The memory had his entire body tensing with pleasure, and without a second thought, he pulled away and dropped to his knees, looking up at her with what he hoped was the purest form of desire.
He looked up at her, admiring the way her face looked in the dim light, as he lifted one of her legs and placed it on his shoulder. Still keeping eye contact, he tilted his head and kissed the inside of her leg. But eventually he let his focus lean to immersing himself in her pleasure, tearing his eyes away from hers and completely shifting his head to face her leg. His lips trailed upwards, taking his time to remember the taste and the feel of her soft skin.
The higher he got, the heavier her breathing became, and it wasn't long before he fully had his head under her skirt. She tried to move the fabric so she could see him, but he gripped her wrists and pinned them at her sides, eliciting a laugh from her that quickly turned into a whimper once he brushed his nose over where she ached for him.
Without being able to stop himself, Spencer inhaled, breathing her in and letting out a shaky breath as he inched closer and involuntarily closed his eyes, completely wrapped up in her like he'd never felt before. He was intoxicated by her, even more so when his mouth finally made contact with her dripping cunt.
Feeling her shudder above him was almost as heavenly as the way she tasted, sweet and bitter and oh so delectable. He'd never craved anything more than her in that moment, his tongue lapping her up and making a point to taste all of her. He explored and worshipped and praised her just how he'd imagined he would, though now that it was actually happening and he'd really had a taste of her, he wasn't sure he could ever go back.
Not that he wanted to. Especially as she whined and rolled her hips against his face, seeking more pleasure as she tried to be quiet in the closet.
Spencer, though he knew the importance of keeping it quiet right then, couldn't say he was the same way. Since his head was hiked up her skirt, and his sounds were muffled by her skin, he was as loud as he wanted to be, groaning into her and mumbling praises in between while catching his breath. He reveled in the feeling of her wetness coating the lower half of his face and the sounds that both pairs of her lips were providing. It truly was better than any symphony or choir he'd ever heard, and if he could spend the rest of his life down there, worshipping at her altar and giving her everything she desired, he would have.
But they were at work, and if they were gone too long, it would get suspicious.
So, as much as he wanted to draw out her pleasure—and by association, his own—he focused on getting her to her peak, flicking his tongue out over her clit and letting her hips rock forward to get her exactly where she wanted to be.
He knew she was about to come when she stopped whining and whimpering altogether, the leg she had draped over his shoulder curling and tightening around him to keep herself steady.
His tongue was relentless, keeping at what it was doing while Spencer imagined what her face must have looked like. Were her eyes rolling to the back of her head or were they squeezed tight? And her mouth— was it hanging open? Was her bottom lip tucked between her teeth as she attempted to keep herself from yelling out? And as her hands struggled in his grasp, trying to escape most likely in favor of gripping his hair, he imagined them tied up above her head, attached to his bedframe as he took his time, drawing out every little sound she could have possibly made until she was just as unraveled as he was.
And then her grip loosened all around him, a whiny sigh escaping from her mouth, and Spencer reluctantly drew himself away from her. He dropped her leg from his shoulder and licked at his lips, tasting as much of her as he could before he had to return to work. And then, when he was moving to remove his head from under her skirt, he caught sight of her panties on the ground, picking them up and sliding the garment lightly up along her leg as he stood.
The only thing was, he wasn't putting them back on her.
No, they hung loose between his fingers as they tickled the inside of her legs, and when he finally stood tall enough to tower over her again, he got as close as he could to her, bringing the fabric up between her legs, right where he'd just been, and pressed them firmly to her sensitive pussy.
"Time to clean you up, angel," he whispered, swiping his hand forward and doing exactly that. Y/N whined against his mouth, faintly tasting herself on his lips as he cleaned her.
He kissed her then, gently, removing his hand from under her skirt and depositing the damp fabric right into his pocket.
If Spencer hadn't known already that he was done for, he would have figured it out right then, when he pulled back far enough to see the high, blissed out look in her pretty eyes. She blinked at him and sighed, telling him one final thing before she pushed past him and walked out into the office with no underwear and half-wobbly legs.
"I miss you already, Doctor..."
***
He missed her, too.
The month-long leave was supposed to assist in letting him clear his head, but the longer he was away from her, the more it drove him mad. Occasionally he'd still taste the sweet tanginess of her on his tongue, and no amount of coffee could rinse it out. Sometimes he'd be grading papers and daydream about hearing her whimper out his name as he took care of her.
It didn't help that she also sent him texts, little things that would have sounded innocent to anyone else but had a way more promiscuous meaning to the both of them. They mostly involved the discussion of angels, of course, as she left him with a quote or a song lyric, and other days with a fact about a specific angel.
Today, the morning before classes started, she sent him, She's gonna be an angel, just you wait and see... Spencer didn't know what it meant, what it was referencing, but it was innocent enough that he didn't think anything of it until lunch rolled around and he checked his phone to see another text.
...When it turns out she's a devil in between the sheets.
He couldn't stop thinking about it. All day, even as he was trying to distract himself by lecturing, all he could see in his mind was Y/N. Sometimes with her angel costume on, but mostly with nothing on, her body fitting into his like a puzzle piece as she sighed out his name like a prayer.
And to think, he had one more week until he would see her again.
But then he was looking through his students' quizzes, small sheets of paper with some terminology and matching definitions they needed to pair together. Since there were only about five minutes left until the class was over, he let his students spend the rest of the time how they chose, not really in the mood to burn himself out speaking when he knew it was only a matter of time before he slipped and said something about Y/N that he shouldn't.
The next quiz he grabbed was folded in half, unusual, but he opened it and was looking to go about his merry way regardless. But then he saw a post-it note right in the middle of the paper, reading She's an angel, my only angel, and punctuated with a pair of red lips.
The first thing he did was drop the pen that was in his hand. Not like he did it on purpose, though, he was pretty sure all joint and muscle function was lost upon reading the handwriting he knew so well, and a reference that only she could make.
And then he looked up, eyes scanning the sea of students to find her. She had to have been there, right? A few of the students found it odd that he was just looking through all of them, but all he was worried about was finding her.
And there she was.
Y/N had tucked herself all the way in the back, her eyes locked directly onto him. She winked then, when she knew she had his attention, and all Spencer could think about was how it must have been another dream. Her texts from earlier had gotten to him more than usual, and because of it, he was seeing her everywhere, seeing what he wanted to see.
Even though he wanted to keep looking at her, to try and figure out if she was really there or if she was just a figment of his devilish mind, he didn't want anyone to catch him. To anyone else it would look like he might have been staring at another student, and with the lust he knew was definitely swimming in them, the last thing he wanted to do was get in trouble like that.
So, to his dismay and reluctance, he slipped the note into the drawer beside him and quietly finished grading, even though he was longing to see how else he could let Y/N destroy him.
Even as the bell rang and everyone filtered out, Spencer kept his head low, refusing to look up until everyone was gone and only one person remained.
The quieter it got, the harder he could feel his heart beating. And then the only thing that cut through the silence was that unmistakable, angelic high pitch that would surely never fail to bring him to his knees.
"Did you get my note, Doctor?"
Only then did he allow himself to look up, and when he did, seeing her closer to him than she'd been in almost a month now, it was like the stars aligned. "Yes," he whispered, getting out of his seat and walking around the desk to be as close to her as possible.
She laughed and met him in the middle, nearly trapping him between herself and the desk. Her hands reached out to grab at his suit jacket and he wished that she'd touch him somewhere else. Anywhere else, just to feel the soft warmth of her skin.
"And my texts?" she cooed, taking another step and actually trapping him between her body and his desk.
"Y—Yeah, I got them."
"Oh, good. I've been thinking a lot about how you left me..." She slid her hands then, under his jacket and across his stomach until they reached his waist. "The second I got in my car to go home, you were already on your way here... And I couldn't help but wonder what you were doing with my panties..."
They were currently back in his hotel room, in the drawer and laying atop of his own clothes, a vision that had him reeling, wondering if she was wearing any now. So he asked. "Are... Um..."
Well, he tried to ask, anyway.
Y/N caught on, though, beaming at him as her hands removed herself from him and slipped up her skirt. "You wanna see the pair I'm wearing now?"
"Y/N... There's... Someone could come in, I..."
She clucked her tongue. "Oh, I wouldn't want to get you in trouble, don't worry. I'll just... Give you a quick peek."
She didn't wait for him to respond, lifting the hem of the skirt and stepping back so he could see the front of her underwear, which were white and printed with black cursive lettering.
Angel.
As soon as he exhaled, loud and obviously very turned on at the sight in front of him, she dropped the skirt and smiled. "You like them? I needed to buy a new pair since you felt the need to steal my others..."
Spencer really didn't know what to say. All he knew was that his body was on fire, and the tightening of his pants was extremely dangerous since he had another class in a half hour and there wasn't enough time to take care of it unless they did something right now. And even then, they were in a public area with hardly anywhere to go. His best bet would be to go to the bathroom and be as inconspicuous as possible to take care of it himself. Or, Y/N needed to leave immediately so he could settle down and just let it go away on its own.
Unfortunately, he seemed to have a hard time denying her of anything.
Which was why he didn't stop her when she sunk to her knees.
As she undid his belt, looking up at him with sparkling eyes, she spoke to him. "Honestly, I had every intention to just make out with you a little, just enough to satiate myself until I can see you again next week, but... Well, I'm wearing lipstick, and I wouldn't want to embarrass you."
He'd made out with a woman before, who'd worn lipstick, and surprisingly it was pretty easy to remove, so he knew she had to have been lying as some part of a bigger scheme, but... he couldn't quite figure out what that was. Obviously she had plans to take care of his erection for him, so why make up the story?
But then she kept talking, only slightly pulling down his pants and palming him through his underwear. "And then I thought about how pretty you'd look covered in lipstick kisses, and, well... It's always good to start somewhere, don't you think?"
Oh...
His stomach did flips when she traced his dick through the fabric covering it, gently with her middle finger. And then, looking into his eyes from below, she pulled it out and slowly stroked it with her hand, a low hum coming from her throat. "Mmm, I can't wait to mark up this pretty cock..."
That's when he lost all semblance of control, a strained groan falling from his lips, coming from the great depths of his chest, just from her words alone. And she took that moment to lean forward and press the gentlest of kisses to the base of his dick. She held her lips there for a second or wo before removing them and moving just a little higher, her eyes never leaving his face.
Her kisses trailed higher and higher, centimeter by centimeter until she reached his tip, where she ever so slightly flicked her tongue over the slit at the top, tasting his precum. And then gave him one final kiss—one final red mark.
The temptation to grab her hair and hold her there while he fucked her throat was strong, but as he looked down at her, she was examining her handiwork with a seductive hunger that made him realize that no matter how strong his urges got, she would always be the one in charge. Even if she acted all innocent and submissive, she was the one who held the key to his sexual desires, and therefore she was the only one who had the ability to unlock them.
So, he contained himself as she looked up at him, winked, and quickly tucked his hard dick back into the confines of his pants.
And when she stood up, she leaned up to his cheek and pressed another kiss there, leaving behind a red mark and all all his sanity with it, quickly turning away before he could catch her.
"See you later, Doctor," she called over her shoulder before she disappeared out the door.
Spencer let out a long, unsteady breath, debating on whether or not he should take care of his situation in the bathroom or right there in the classroom, behind his desk and into the trash can underneath it while he still had ample time to do so.
He sat in the chair about a minute later, his hand moving furiously under the desk as he breathed out hushed whispers of her name.
***
No matter how badly he wanted more alcohol in his system, he wasn't going to allow it. After one drink he was already starting to feel the affects, veins buzzing right along with the low hum of the music from inside. The single streetlight above him provided only the dimmest of lights as he took deep breaths in and out, focusing on the bitter cold from the December air and the soft pelting of snowflakes upon the skin of his cheeks.
Y/N's touch still burned him, right along his inner thigh where her hand had firmly rested while they and the rest of their friends ate dinner at the bar. All night so far, she'd been teasing him to no end, whether it was a brush of her hand against his crotch or a tiny kiss on the shoulder when no one was looking.
How no one had figured them out yet was a mystery.
Spencer rubbed his hands together, trying to keep them warm when he felt it. She was behind him.
"You've been out here for a while, Spence, is everything okay?" Even when she wasn't speaking to him in her angelic higher pitch, he still felt like succumbing to the sound her voice regardless.
He turned around to face her, and sighed. It figured that even surrounded by a street that was covered in brown-tainted snow, she wouldn't have let it taint her beauty. He was convinced that no matter where she was or what she looked like, she'd always be perfect— capable of knocking the breath out of him every time he looked at her. "Honestly, you've been driving me crazy."
"Oh," she said, her eyes slightly shifting to the ground. "Maybe I... did take it too far, I... I'm sorry." The slight tinge of embarrassment and maybe regret that filtered through her voice nearly ran him to the ground— How could she ever believe that he would feel overwhelmed by her? Sure, to some extent, he was extremely overwhelmed by her, but it was never a negative thing.
"Oh, angel, that's not what I meant," he explained softly, taking a few steps towards her.
She lifted her head, eyes doe-eyed and sparkling, though not as they usually were. This time they were swimming in a softness that made him yearn for her even more. "What?"
"I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm absolutely mesmerized by you... Y/N..." Spencer brought a hand to lightly caress her face, and when she leaned into his touch it made him so warm he thought it would melt all of the snow. "I can't get you out of my head, and I... I don't know if I ever want to. I mean that."
"Y—You're not... weirded out or anything?" she asked softly. "That I just... sprung all my feelings and my lust out onto you all at once? B—Because I know it was sudden, and I came on really strong so fast, I just... I thought you liked it, and so I just kept going, but really I should have stopped and... I don't know, asked if you were okay with it..."
He'd seen this softness in her before— When she watched over JJ's kids in the office sometimes, and when she helped Penelope set the table for their 'family dinners'. Every time, on the rare occasion that she actually went on cases with them, when she helped JJ comfort the families who'd lost their loved ones, he saw it. And even through all the lust, that sweetness in her soul was what truly made her an angel. Even though the lust is all he'd been swimming in since Halloween, deep down he really knew that it was only a small part of who she really was.
So, he said to her, "Y/N, I'm enchanted by all of you. I don't... I don't know what happened to make you want to come on strong to me, but... I'm glad you did. Believe me when I say, there is nothing about you that would scare me away."
He didn't know how she was feeling, but she practically visibly melted at his words, right in front of him. "You really mean that?"
With a smile, Spencer stepped even closer and brushed a thumb over her bottom lip. "Of course I mean it, my angel."
She laughed then, her hands wrapping themselves over his waist. "Your angel, huh?"
"Mhm... If you'd like to be..."
Y/N leaned up and pressed her lips to his in answer, firmly and with all the sweetness she had nestled inside her soul.
But the longer they stood there outside the bar, kisses growing warmer and hungrier with each passing second, Spencer realized that he didn't want her sweetness any longer, not tonight anyway. He cradled her face in his hands, feeling the fire in his veins come alive when she whined into his mouth and willed herself closer.
Before he could say fuck it and decide to take her right there outside, he pulled away, still needing her but not entirely willing to get themselves caught for public indecency.
Y/N spoke before he got a chance to, her higher pitch coming back and almost bringing him to his knees.
"What do you say you take your angel home and show her a good time?"
***
She didn't even get a chance to close the door to his apartment before he was on her, his hands tugging at her coat to get it off.
It was a frenzy, at least while they were stripping. Jackets and boots and scarves were strewn across the entryway and leading into the living room, until each of them only had two layers: their regular clothes and what they wore underneath. And that's when they finally allowed themselves the luxury of wrapping their limbs around each other.
Her legs wrapped around his waist as he grabbed ahold of her ass to keep her steady. For added support, she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him the whole way to his bedroom, but not without a few stumbles. Either way, they were so quite literally wrapped up in each other that the imperfections didn't matter.
Like she could ever come with imperfections... Spencer thought as he set her down, immediately bringing his hands to the back of her dress.
Meanwhile she unbuttoned his shirt, fumbling around so much that he thought she might choose to rip it open, and selfishly he wished she would have. But she got it open without tearing any buttons, and the fabric slid easily off his shoulders at the same time her dress slid off her own.
He was going to kiss her again, but once he caught a glimpse of what she'd been hiding under her dress, there was nothing he could physically do but rake his eyes over her figure and pray for forgiveness for all the devilish things he wanted to do to her.
It was a white set, all lace that was detailed to look like feathers as it hugged every curve of her body perfectly. She wore a set of garters that attached to the panties, which he was pretty sure were crotch-less and outlined in a pretty gold shimmer.
"I knew you'd like it," Y/N drawled sweetly. The pure innocence that dripped from her tongue would have thoroughly wrecked him had her appearance already not taken care of that. And she seemed to understand how immobile he'd become at the sight of her, because she moved of her own accord, gliding over to him and reaching her hand out to undo his belt. "I'm gonna take your silence as a good sign..."
"You're stunning," he breathed, just barely, and she gave him a smile through softly biting her bottom lip.
"You're too good to me..." Her hands pushed down his loosened slacks and waited until they fell to the floor. And then she hooked her fingers under the waistband of his underwear and leaned into his neck. "And I think your kindness deserves a reward..."
Her lips gently pressed to his neck before she dropped to her knees once again, and as she descended, her hands and his underwear did the same, leaving him completely bare and open for her to do whatever she wanted. No matter how badly he longed to throw her on the bed and get to showing her just how much she'd inhabited his every fiber of being, he didn't dare stop her as her tongue darted out and licked a featherlight line along the length of his hard cock.
He let out a sigh and twitched at her touch, a feat that must have pleased her, because she smiled and hummed happily as she repeated her action. Only, this time her tongue was more firm on him— not teasing anymore, but it brought him to damnation all the same.
And then she fully wrapped her lips around the head of his cock, slowly gliding herself down until he hit the back of her throat.
The sound he made was inhuman.
She wasted no time then, bobbing her head at a steady rhythm and moaning around him as she did so. It didn't take long for saliva to start gathering above her chin and dripping down onto the exposed area of her breasts, just above her bra. Occasionally she would hold him at the back of her throat and choke as she looked up at him with tears in her eyes, and the sight of his little angel happily crying with his dick in her mouth sent Spencer into a tailspin.
But as tempting as it was to paint the back of her throat white, he knew he'd prefer to take that action to a more interesting place. So he pulled away from her and breathed out, "Please, not yet..."
He looked down at her as she smiled, wetness coating her skin in the form of tears on cheeks and saliva on breasts. Her hands rested at the tops of her thighs, even as she stood up and blinked a final stream of tears down her left cheek. "Why, is there somewhere else you'd rather fill me up?"
"Please," was all he said, his breathing labored as he imagined what she would feel like.
Thankfully she seemed to take mercy on him— Y/N grabbed his hand and pulled him to the bed, where she laid him down at the headboard and straddled his thighs. "As much as I love spreading my legs for you, I think I'd much rather take a ride..."
"Anything you want," he told her, his eyes traveling up the length of her body as she got comfortable. She was, in fact, wearing crotch-less panties, and the feeling that coursed through him at the sight of her glistening pussy in decent lighting (AKA when he wasn't under her skirt in a storage closet) sent him straight to Hell all over again.
He sighed out as she played with herself, gliding her fingers delicately along the planes of her body, from her thighs to her clit, and eventually she gripped his dick to line it up, lifting her hips above him.
"Are you ready?" she asked gently, rolling her hips to slick him up with her arousal.
"Always ready for you, angel..."
The pet name sprung her into action. She sunk down slowly onto him, and he willed his eyes to stay open so he could watch as her mouth dropped open, eyes rolling back into her head as she moaned out deliciously. He let out a groan himself, the feeling of her tightly wrapping around him like velvet almost too much to handle.
"Ohhh, you fill me up so good," Y/N sighed, gently grinding her hips in slow circles as she finally had all of him inside her. "Just like I knew you would..."
Everything she was doing, between the gradual increase of the speed at which her hips rolled and the way she looked down at him with pure desire, had Spencer wondering what he'd ever done without her. What had he known before knowing the feeling of her nails gently digging into the skin of his stomach as she rode him, before knowing the sound of his name falling from her lips in a whisper? It couldn't have been anything good, because as far as he was concerned, she was as good as it would ever get.
But at some point it felt like he needed to take more. She was giving him her body, offering it to him like the most precious gift she had to offer, and yet he wanted to tear into it and leave nothing behind except her voice, calling out his name into the heavens above. He longed to give her something in return, something that would leave her just as ruined as she'd left him.
And, as always, she could tell.
Y/N laughed seductively as she leaned down, her hips still rocking into his. Her lips pressed a gentle kiss to his before she spoke. "Everything alright, baby?"
All he could do was let out a broken moan as she clenched around him on every upstroke.
"Aww... You want more? Huh, you wanna lay me down and give it to me good? Show your little angel what it feels like to be fucked so good she can't even speak?"
"Don't... tempt me," he was finally able to choke out, and she laughed.
"Aww, come on... Show me what you got..."
Spencer wasn't sure when he actually did it, but one second she was nipping at his bottom lip, challenging him to take control, and the next he was on top of her, her legs spread as wide as they could possibly get as he rocked his hips into her at a deep, bruising force.
She laughed amusedly through whimpers of pleasure, her hands spreading out at her sides like wings as he gave her everything he had. Looking down at her, head thrown back and hair fanned around her head like some sort of angelic crown, he soaked it all in and wondered if this was what Heaven was— the feeling of her succumbing to his lust, the sight of her lost in the throes of weeks of pent-up sexual tension that never entirely got released, the sound of her near-incoherently whining at how good he was...
If it wasn't Heaven, it was surely something pretty damn close.
He was almost there, tension stretching out inside the pit of his stomach, when Y/N grabbed one of his hands and brought it to her lower belly. He felt himself slamming into her at full force every time, the small bump against his hand bringing him further along the road of release.
"You feel that?" she whined, keeping his hand there. "You know what that means, don't you?"
It could have meant a lot of things, but his brain was too far gone, lost in in the fog of pleasure to even begin to think about what it was. But then she answered for him, and it was just about the hottest thing he'd ever heard come from her mouth.
"It means I'm all yours... to do whatever you want with... to fill me up with your cum as much as you want... maybe turn your little angel into a mommy..."
With a loud, guttural groan, Spencer held himself still, deep inside her, and gave her every last drop, his hand remained pressed firmly to her stomach. If he concentrated hard enough, he could almost feel his cum spilling out and filling her to the brim through the barrier. She pulsed and came around him at the same time, warmth spreading between the two of them like a drop of water would soak through fabric, until it completely enveloped them like a heavy blanket.
And then they'd given everything, their bodies clinging to each other for dear life as they settled into the gentle aftermath of such a heavy feeling of ardor. Their breaths slowed and their lips explored each other tenderly, hands doing the same until, finally, they felt themselves drifting off.
***
Spencer dreamt of Heaven that night, glimpses of a future he'd always longed for with other people, but that he would get to spend with her.
A wedding dress, white, but haloed by a gold fog as the woman wearing it glided along the aisle and made her way to him.
A house, small, but fenced in and just perfect enough for the two of them and the baby that was on the way.
A picnic table, damp, but drying out in the sun as it gradually became littered with plates of birthday cake and a little candle that was shaped into the number 3.
A woman, old, but beaming as she showed a photo album to her multitudes of grandchildren, telling them stories about the wonderful life she lived with her husband who always called her Angel.
And when he woke up, seeing that old woman as she was now, sleeping in his bed as the sun beamed through the curtains and basked her in a heavenly light, he knew what Heaven really was.
It was her.
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#willsannievent#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid smut#spencer reid#criminal minds#criiminal minds fanfiction
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pride. (m)
pairing: sugardaddy!xiaojun x reader
words: 4.7k+
summary: stacked with two jobs, tuition bills and rent payments, an opportunity falls into your lap that leaves you wanting more.
genre: fluff, smut
warnings: creampie, breeding kink, semi-public sex, oral sex, degradation, overstimulation
It all started before you hit rock bottom.
When you enrolled in college and decided to study music, your parents refused to pay for your tuition as they had hoped you would pursue law instead. You’ve been passionate about music since you were younger, and financial burdens were not going to hold you back from pursuing your dreams.
You spend most school nights working a low wage job, and switch to a different low wage job on the weekends. You hardly had time to balance studies and work, but in order to make ends meet, you fill your body with caffeine and call it a day.
You’re in the middle of wiping down the counter of the campus’s local ice cream parlor, ignoring the email you received from your landlord minutes ago. It was yet another warning notice to pay last month’s rent, a task you’ve been putting off for weeks.
There’s barely anyone who comes into the shop this late at night on a weekday, only a few who have a midnight craving they have to fulfill. You’re surprised when Doyeon comes barging into the shop at half past midnight, dressed to the nines in her custom Versace gown.
She sighs and throws herself down on one of the parlor chairs. “I feel sick to my stomach. Is it possible for your intestines to hurt so much from champagne?”
You laugh at her. Doyeon was your first friend when you came to campus, and you were blissfully unaware of how wealthy she was until three months into your friendship. Her mother recently remarried and Doyeon despised her stepdad, but she never had any complaints about the money he carried with him. Doyeon’s offered to pay off some of your loans so that you wouldn’t have to work two jobs, but you always turned down her offer. You couldn’t take money from her — you had to have a little bit of pride.
“What happened now? More sleazy old men hitting on you?” You question, leaning over the counter to ask her.
“You know me so well,” she sighs, her curled hair styled perfectly down her shoulders. She removes her heels for a bit so she can breathe. “And Doyoung was complaining the entire time, pissing off my mom. You know how my brother is.”
You’ve met Doyoung once or twice, and he was very similar to Doyeon — confident, smart and not afraid to speak what’s on his mind. Doyoung had a very difficult time adjusting to their mother’s new beau.
“You know what would be nice?” Doyeon asks, eyelashes fluttering at you. “If you come with me next time.”
“You know I can’t,” you decline, moving to check on the tubs of ice cream. “I’m too busy with work and school. Can’t leave for a night of luxury.”
“But you can,” she whines loudly. “Just let me pay your rent for last month and we’ll call it even!”
You roll your eyes. “I hardly call that even, Doyeon.”
She huffs. “Please? I can’t stand to go to another one of these things and listen to those snotty people tell me how lucky I am that my mom found that douchebag. You would make it so much more fun, and save me from a night of torture.”
For the first time, you’re contemplating Doyeon’s offer. You’ve known for a long time now that you’re running low on funds, and you’re scared that if you don’t find a way to pay your landlord, he’ll end up evicting you. Your eyes glance up to meet Doyeon’s, who has her puppy dog gaze turned on.
You sigh. “Just one event. That’s it.”
She squeals, and almost jumps over the counter to hug you.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I love you, thank you!”
You awkwardly pat her back. “Yeah, yeah.”
—
Doyeon failed to tell you that the event she was dragging you to would actually take place within a week.
You scrambled to find a dress and how to style your hair, knowing that if you showed up in an off-brand name, you would immediately look like an outcast. Doyeon saved you from the humiliation, shoving you into a Valentino dress that had your eyes rolling out of your head at the price tag. She also hired a hairstylist on the day of to come over and fix you up, which you clearly disagreed on until Doyeon told you it wasn’t up for debate.
And now, here you were, standing in the middle of the most luxurious place you’ve ever stepped foot in. Doyeon leans over to whisper to you while you’re eyeing the waiters and waitresses walking around with trays of champagne.
“Just smile and act like you only care about money.”
She tugs you forward and you try your best to match her pace. A girl approaches you two first, nails wrapped around the stem of her glass. She’s wearing one of the most beautiful gowns you’ve ever seen, a Chanel piece her mother imported for the event.
“Hyojung, you’re way too young to be drinking anything,” Doyeon scolds.
“Calm down, mom. No one’s snitching except you. Who have you brought?”
Doyeon beams and loops her arm through yours. “This is my friend from college.” She gives Hyojung your name and you offer your best smile.
Hyojung returns your grin. “Nice to meet you. Where do your parents work?”
Doyeon opens her mouth to tell Hyojung the truth, but you stop her.
“They own a few chain businesses in our hometown. Nothing too grand,” you inform. Hyojung nods in agreement, eyes darting somewhere else.
“Well, Chanwoo is here. I’m going to get the gossip that he owes me from last time.”
When Hyojung leaves, Doyeon frowns at you. “Why did you lie?” She questions.
You shrug. “I would rather not be a fish out of water here more than I already am. It’s better if people think I’m at least middle class.”
“Okay,” she says slowly. “You know I’m not ashamed of you, right?”
You giggle and pat her cheek. “Of course I know.”
“Finally!” You hear someone exclaim, and you turn to see Doyoung rushing over to the two of you. “Where the hell have you been? Mom’s going to murder you for showing up so late.”
Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Relax. We took a long time getting ready.”
Doyoung smiles gently at you before tugging his sister away. You feel even more awkward, hands folding together as you sway in the middle of the room. The people around you are talking animatedly and you can faintly hear the sound of the violin in the back of the room. You wonder if you should pretend to go to the bathroom or find somewhere to sit-
“Never seen you here before.”
You turn to see a guy your age, dressed in a full Armani suit and Rolex watch shining under the sparkling chandelier. You awkwardly clear your throat.
“Uh, yeah. My friend brought me. Do I look that weird?”
He chuckles, running a hand through his chestnut locks. “You look beautiful. I’ve just been to plenty of these galas before and I’ve pretty much memorized the guest list.”
Your heart lingers on his compliment and you avert your gaze.
“My first one. Are they always like this?”
“Boring, you mean?”
You laugh and he joins in. You swear you feel butterflies frantically flying in your stomach.
“So, what’s your story? Also have rich parents?” You ask.
He nods. “My mother owns half of the city’s major businesses. I’m Xiaojun, by the way.” You give him your name and he smiles, motioning to the back of the room. “Want to talk where it’s a little less loud?”
You agree, smiling and taking his arm as he leads you to the less chatty part of the room. You both sit on a luxurious velvet couch, a piece of furniture that most likely costs more than your entire apartment. Xiaojun hands you a glass of champagne, his smile taking your breath away.
“Tell me a little bit about yourself,” he muses, eyeing you carefully.
You laugh. “Is this a job interview?”
He shrugs. “Could be.”
Your eyebrows furrow at his answer, but you figure rich people were always weird and vague like that. “I go to the same college as Doyeon, and I’m studying music. Not really much to say, I spend most of my time working.”
He nods, and you can’t place what the look in his eye is for.
“Music, that’s interesting. What made you decide to take on such a daunting major?”
“Daunting as in it’s not law or business?” You counter, giving him a look.
He holds his hands up in surrender. “Hey, no judgment here. In my world, I haven’t met anyone who isn’t a law or business major. It’s nice to have a change of scenery.”
He challenges your gaze, and you feel a warmth in your stomach you haven’t felt in months. You jump when you hear the shriek of your name and Doyeon comes charging towards the two of you.
“There you are! Jesus, I had to hear Doyoung fight with my stepdad for almost ten minutes.” Her exasperation turns into surprise when she sees Xiaojun seated next to you. “Oh! Hey, Dejun. Didn’t see you there.”
He offers a smile. “Hi, Doyeon.”
“Do you mind if I pull her away for a bit?” Doyeon asks, but she’s already looped your arm through hers. You slightly protest when she tugs you away from Xiaojun, but you’re immediately distracted by her next question. “What the hell were you doing talking to him? You know what Xiaojun is famous for, right?”
You frown, looking over your shoulder again to see him, watching as his line of sight carefully follows you and Doyeon.
“No, I don’t. He seemed nice. What’s the issue?”
Doyeon rolls her eyes. “He’s a sugar daddy. Always looking for new sugar babies to satisfy him. He’s been blowing through girls like the wind for the past year. He’s not good, and I don’t want you in his company without me.”
You try to process that the man you were just talking to was, in fact, scoping you out to get a potential new sugar baby. You can’t wrap your mind around it, even when Doyeon drags you to the corner of the room, where Doyoung and her stepdad are still fighting.
Your eyes linger on Xiaojun’s table, but he’s already long gone.
—
“Nice shop you got here.”
You practically jump out of your shoes at the sound of the familiar voice, almost spilling a cup of ice cream down your front. You nearly get whiplash with how fast you spin around, eyes widening at the sight of Xiaojun standing in the middle of the ice cream shop. Your manager, Seojeong, raises an eyebrow at your skittish nature.
“Is there a problem here?” She questions, but you immediately brush her off.
“No, no problem!” You squeak. You immediately rush over the counter and push Xiaojun out of the shop. “Seojeong, I’m taking my 15!”
“Um, okay?”
Once you’ve got Xiaojun on the street, you take notice of what he’s wearing - another dark Armani suit, same Rolex watch, and hair styled in a way that’s meant to make your panties drop. You push back your thoughts and whisper harshly to him.
“I know why you’re here.”
He raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Do you now?”
“Yes, I do,” you state confidently, tilting your chin up. “Doyeon told me about your little sugar daddy scheme.”
He laughs. “Ah, is that what they’re calling it now? Didn’t realize I was such a bad guy for wanting to help out girls in bad situations.”
You scoff. “Do you get off on this? Lowering yourself to the underprivileged lives of the poor? Pretending to be the hero that saves the damsel in distress?”
He snickers at your line of questioning, shoving his hands in his pockets and eyeing you. He leans down so that you’re face to face, and you falter as he becomes closer to you.
“And if I do? What if I like giving you money so you don’t have to work two jobs?”
“How do you know I have two jobs?” You inquire.
“You looked so lost at that gala. I told you I’ve memorized the guest list — you’ve never been on it. It became relatively easy to discover the rest of the details. It must be exhausting doing this everyday, haven’t you ever wanted a break?”
You fold your arms across your chest and take a step away from him. “What’s in it for you?”
He grins. “The pleasure of your company.”
“What kind of company?” You ask, doubting him. You won’t lie and say the offer isn’t intriguing to you. You still have pride, definitely, but the weight of two jobs has really taken a toll on you lately. Plus, Doyeon said Xiaojun breezes through girls anyways. You could get a break from paying your rent for a few months and before you know it, he’ll move onto the next charity case he wants to help out.
There’s no harm in that, right?
Your thoughts are blown through the window, however, when his smirk grows wider. You’re sure there’s a large damp spot in your underwear right now.
“Whatever company you like, little one.”
You’re fucked.
—
You keep the relationship with Xiaojun quiet and under wraps. You know Doyeon would have many thoughts about your choice, and she would probably convince you to let her pay your bills instead of Xiaojun. You couldn’t place that burden on her shoulders.
Surprisingly, Xiaojun doesn’t ask for much. He swings by the ice cream parlor once a week, drops off a $1000 check, stays to chat for a little, and leaves. Seojeong doesn’t raise any questions, albeit you’ve seen her glance at the envelope you leave in the back room. You would’ve thought that Xiaojun is the type of guy who invites you over to his penthouse apartment to get to know him, but he’s been quite reserved. He never crosses the line with you, and his questioning stays on the topic of your classes and work. You continuously wonder how to captivate his attention and if the other girls before you failed to do so.
About a month into the deal, your patience wears thin. You’re not even really sure why you’re frustrated in the first place. Anyone would love a no strings attached deal like this, getting $1000 every week with barely any commitment. You quit your other job because you don’t need both paychecks now and you’ve been able to keep up on rent. However, a part of you expected to be close with Xiaojun in some way at this point, especially considering the way he was flirting with you when he first propositioned this.
You’re fully prepared to confront him on Friday night, the same day he usually drops off the check and chats with you for a bit. You practically throw yourself over the counter when he takes a step inside the shop, yelling over your shoulder to Seojeong that you’re taking your break.
Xiaojun laughs at your eagerness, allowing you to tug on his suit as you pull him outside.
“Someone’s excited today. Need the check that badly?”
You frown at the accusation and exhale. “No, as a matter of fact, the money you’ve given me so far could probably cover me for a year.”
“Then what’s with the frowny face?”
“There’s a catch here, Xiaojun, I know there is. You’ve been too nice,” you say, waving a finger at him.
He smirks. “Have I been? I told you, little one, all I need is your company. You’ve given that to me every week, haven’t you?”
You scoff. “Barely. We talk for a few minutes while I’m making orders for other customers and then you leave. I would hardly call that company.”
He gets even cockier, if that was humanly possible. Xiaojun has to know what he’s doing to you — the mystery of his true personality starting to make you curious.
Similar to your first meeting, he leans down until he’s a few inches from your face, eyebrow raised. “Didn’t mean to neglect you, little one. Did you want more from me?”
You shift awkwardly, tension building in your stomach from his words. He was clearly teasing you and his patience was stronger than you previously believed. He waited a month just to have you desperate like this, wanting something more than a few minutes of his time. You’re so wet at this point that you’re definitive Xiaojun knows.
To prove your point, his smirk grows wider. “What are you doing after your shift?”
“U-Um, I have some homework to finish-“
“Great, I’ll pick you up after work and you can finish it at my apartment.” He doesn’t give you any time to protest, moving closer to you, his breath hitting the shell of your ear. “Next time, little one, just tell me you need more attention. Daddy will gladly give it to you.”
—
You’re a nervous wreck when Xiaojun’s expensive Rolls-Royce pulls up to the curb after your shift has ended. His car looks terribly out of place on the streets of your dirty campus, but he doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. You quickly get in and ask him to go before anyone can recognize you.
The ride to his apartment in the upper part of town is filled with silence, making you even more jittery. Xiaojun, on the other hand, is calm and collected with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the console. You try to swallow your nerves and reason with yourself.
This is just Xiaojun — son of a multimillionaire, heir to many respective companies within the city. This is just Xiaojun — the man who’s been giving you $1000 every week with no strings attached, the man who’s clouded your dreams for the past month on more than one occasion.
Unfortunately, you don’t have any more time to dwell on your thoughts when Xiaojun pulls up to the parking garage of his complex. The both of you exit the car and he hands the keys to one of the valet drivers. His fingers fall to the small of your back as he guides you inside.
You try to avoid the blatant stares from other residents. You’re still dressed in your work clothes, a simple t-shirt and pair of jeans, but you couldn’t look more like a fish out of water. Xiaojun doesn’t seem to mind, walking into the elevator and pressing the top floor button. You ride the elevator in silence, and your eyes nearly fall out of your head when you reach the penthouse.
The apartment is straight out of the movies. The decor is extravagant, and you’re afraid if you touch anything, you’ll have to pay a fine. Xiaojun leads you to the dining room, pulling out a chair for you, despite your confusion.
“You can finish your homework here. I’ll be in the study upstairs.”
“Wait wait wait,” you stop him, placing a hand on his chest. “You’re leaving?”
He grins. “Did you want me to stay?”
He was really going to make you beg for it. Your eyes narrow and you feel a burst of confidence run through you. You tilt your head up until you’re a few centimeters from his mouth.
“You said Daddy would give me more attention if I asked for it.”
He growls, eyes darkening. Before you know it, he has you pinned to the grand table, staring at you as if you’re his last meal. It’s your turn to smirk as his control snaps, fingers digging into your hips roughly.
“Think it’s fun to test me? The other girls before you were more behaved,” he hisses, eyes wandering to the valley of your breasts.
“But you don’t like that, do you? You like it when they disobey,” you murmur, pulling him closer to you. “You like giving them their punishment.”
Xiaojun’s lips are pressed to yours before you can even fully register what’s going on, his body locking you against the wood. You whimper, hands gripping his forearm to keep steady. It’s messy and frantic, and you can see all of the built up tension starting to show.
“What would Doyeon think of you whoring yourself out for money?” He snickers, making you feel small under his gaze. “I bet she would be so ashamed. Little one gave up her pride for a few thousand dollars?”
You whine. “It’s not like that.”
“But isn’t it?” He questions you, fingers unbuttoning your jeans and sliding them down your legs. You wish you had worn a sexier pair of panties today but Xiaojun seems satisfied nonetheless, snapping the elastic against your skin. “Can’t wait to get a taste of this cunt. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it, little one?”
You probably look pathetic like this — half of your body sprawled across Xiaojun’s dining table, pants around your ankles, and a large wet spot ruining the fabric of your underwear. You pitifully nod in response to his question, eyes locked on the bulge straining against his expensive trousers. He chuckles when he follows your line of sight.
“Hungry?”
You fall into the role so easily. “Yes, Daddy.”
He directs you on your knees, the cold marble floor sending a shiver up your spine. You eagerly watch him unbuckle his belt and exposing his leaking cock for you. The tip is red and angry, demanding to be touched.
“Go ahead, little one. Make Daddy feel good.”
You wrap your mouth around the tip, nearly moaning at the taste of him. You haven’t been intimate with someone in so long and his cock has your mouth watering.
“Good girl,” he soothes, pushing his cock further down your throat. Tears immediately spring into your eyes when he ignores your gag reflex, hands gripping the back of your head as he guided you. “Shh, doing so well for me, little one.”
You allow him to fuck your mouth, trying to brush aside the tears falling down your face and saliva pooling at the sides of your mouth. It’s filthy and you love it — you haven’t been used like this in months and you never realized how much you missed it.
“Your mouth is so perfect, fuck,” he groans. “I’ll pay for anything you want if you stay on your knees like this, all pretty for me.”
You gasp when he lets you breathe, pulling his cock away. He chuckles at you, fingers returning to stroke himself as he watches you regain yourself. He tugs you back on your feet, overlooking your wobbly legs and pushing you into the living room. You’re about to question him on what he’s doing until he’s shoving you up against his glass window. You gaze downwards, seeing a plethora of people passing by on the street and cars honking to one another. It’s a view you only see in the movies, and you know Xiaojun’s eager to fuck you into the fantasy.
His fingers slide into your underwear, breath hot against your neck. “Look at all of them down there, little one. Bet they want to be just like you, fucked so good for everyone to see. Even better when I cum inside you, hm?”
You freeze. “D-Daddy,” you whisper frantically. “I’m not on the pill.”
He’s silent behind your figure before you feel him playing with your folds, your wetness coating his hand.
“Isn’t that nice? What do you think of getting knocked up, little one? This entire place could be yours, you would never have to step foot in that ice cream shop again. All the wealth you never imagined, you could spend all day in bed with me while I stuff you full. You would look so pretty on Daddy’s arm. I wonder how many times we could sneak away from the crowd so I could fuck my cock into you. Wouldn’t that be a dream?”
You gasp, growing wetter by the second. He easily slides a finger into your heat and all common sense is thrown out of the window.
“Please fuck me, Daddy,” you beg. “Please please please. I’ll be good for you, I promise.”
He laughs at your desperation, pushing another digit inside. “Even though you’re not on the pill? How filthy of you, little one.”
It’s sick. You barely know this man but all you want is his cum inside you. You can imagine the headlines now — Millionaire’s Son Gets Poor Girl Pregnant. But you want it. You want it so badly.
You hear the tearing of your panties but you couldn’t give a fuck what happens to them, pushing yourself further into him. He laughs again at you, tip lining up to your entrance.
“Beg for it.”
You cry. “Please, Daddy! I want it, I’ve been so good for you! I’ll let you cum inside me and everyone can watch. I want them to see who I belong to.”
“Fuck,” he growls at your submission. You nearly scream when he pushes into you, his girth bigger and thicker than you’ve ever taken before. On top of that, you haven’t had sex in months and the stretch is almost unbearable. Your head rolls back but Xiaojun grips your chin and forces you to look outside the window. “Look at all those people, little one. They’re about to get a nice show.”
He gives you no time to adjust, thrusting into you like he wants to break you. His fingers tangle into your hair and he pulls roughly, causing you to yelp at the pain. You’re past the point of coherent thinking, Xiaojun’s cock fucking you so good you can barely talk.
“Good, little one?”
“Mmf,” you gurgle, gasping at the force of his movements. You can feel him in your throat, and it’s as if he’s waited all these weeks just to spill his seed into you.
You tumble over the edge when he pinches your clit, whispering the dirtiest confessions into your ear. “Needy whore,” he laughed sinisterly. “Probably can’t go a day without my cock after this. Going to be begging me for it, wanting me all the time now. I can’t wait to take you everywhere and anywhere I please. I’ll buy you so many cute outfits, little one. So many skirts that make it easy for me to slide right inside and fuck you until you’re crying for me.”
You clench around his cock and fall over the edge, your wetness spilling down your thighs.
“Daddy,” you breathlessly hiss, body going limp in his arms.
“You came so much for me, little one. Your slutty cunt is so good for me, isn’t it?”
“Please, Daddy,” you plead. “Please, Daddy. I want to feel your cum.”
“Yeah?” He grunts, the sound of his balls repeatedly slapping against your pussy echoes around the room. “You wanna get pregnant? All baby wants is a big fat cock to stuff her full of cum, hm?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” you cry out, not even caring how pitiful you look at this point. “Want it so badly.”
Your desperation snaps the cord inside of him and he spills every last drop into you. You whimper at the warm feeling, some of his cum starting to drip out and coat the inside of your thighs. You both attempt to catch your breaths, your legs feeling like jelly.
You’re about to move away from him until Xiaojun keeps you pinned to the window, stopping you from leaving.
“W-What are y-you doing?” You ask, still out of breath from the fucking you just received.
“I don’t think that was the one,” he muses, eyes locked on where you two are intertwined. He offers an experimental thrust that has you scrambling.
“No, no,” you sniffle, trying to move away from him again. “I can’t, I can’t.”
“I think you can,” he chuckles, enjoying the way your cunt wraps so nicely around his cock. “And you will. Haven’t gotten you pregnant yet, little one.”
You spend hours fucking like bunnies with Xiaojun taking you on almost every surface of his apartment. You don’t even care that you’re impregnated, allowing him to use you in any way he pleases while the sun falls under the skyline.
Your pride didn’t matter that much anyways.
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The Three Times Jason Wasn’t Saved- and The One Time he Was
Jason Todd x Reader
Warnings: detailed descriptions of torture, angst, character death, blood, needles, knives/ cutting, batfam au where the gangs all here, Robin!Jason, reader can summon weapons, sad ending
One
His head hangs, he doesn't have the energy. His feet barely touch the ground, and yet he makes no move to stand himself up. They're tingly and fuzzy and cold, as are his hands that are tied above his head.
Jason Todd hangs in chains like a slaughtered pig, and his breathing is hoarse. His dull blue eyes land on the bloodied crowbar laying on the floor. It's his blood, and it makes him groan in pain. Hyper realization of his injuries hits him and he whimpers. It's low, pathetic, and his breathing picks up.
He doesn’t remember how to wear clothes that aren’t covered in dirt and grime and acid. The fabric of his robin suit sticks to his skin, blending with his wounds. Every small move of limb sends fires of pain throughout his body, and he tries his hardest not to make a sound.
The Asylum wing is freezing and he’s cold, skin almost blue. He shivers every once in a while- it’s different from when the Asylum is scorching hot and he feels like he’s in hell where he belongs. The hair he used to keep so elegantly messy, it's dirty and scorched and matted and greasy against his head.
And he’s scared.
He knows that if he looks up, he'll see pictures. Taped to the dusty and damp walls of Arkham Asylum. Red circles trace each of their faces, and whether or not it's paint or blood he doesn't want to know.
It’s blood, it’s always been blood.
He can't bear to see their faces right now. Barbara, happy and smiling next to Dick as they enjoy a Gotham carnival. They're happy without him, he always held them back. He was too dependent on Barbara as a sister figure and was just an annoying kid to Dick, they're better now.
Bruce. With a child on his shoulders. The son Jason could never be. A new Robin, one that could properly fulfill his duties. He was the failure, he was never going to be what Dick Grayson was. Maybe his replacement could, his replacement wouldn't let himself get captured.
Barbara and Selina and Alfred who had only ever taken care of him.
All with red targets around them. Everyone he'd ever cared for. Marked.
Everyone except Y/N, who's picture lay in pieces on the ground. Unlike the others, it wasn't taken by Joker's goons, and it wasn't recent.
It was her student ID from their first year at Gotham Academy. She was young, really young, eyes still bright and skin untainted by the scars of vigilante work. And she wasn't even looking at the camera but rather off to the side, caught by surprise when the photographer flashed his equipment. She hated pictures, and going to school was never a part of the deal. She’s mid laughing and so alive and happy in a world where Jason never hurt her.
He'd stolen it soon after it was taken, sticking it in his wallet so she'd be forced to ask him for his own. You couldn't access the Academy Library without one after all.
And the Joker had found it in his pocket and took it and ruined it and tore it and left her in pieces in the corner, her name never spoken from the maniac again.
Jason assumed that was good. Better to be left in silence than threatened and marked for death. Hell, he couldn’t remember how long it's been since he’s seen her, and he softly starts to whisper her name. She promised him a night out once he found his mother,
No, he couldn’t.
Maybe the Joker couldn’t find her, hadn’t figured out her identity. He could keep her safe.
"What's that my boy?"
"No.. no," Robin pleads, the voice of nails on a chalkboard sending fear into his every bone. "Not again, not again."
The Joker comes into view and a weak cry comes from Jason's lips. His body jerks and another cough wracks his body, warm blood spilling from his mouth. Broken ribs, internal bleeding, punctured lung, he has no idea what it could be. If only Alfred were here, or Dick. To let him rest as they fixed him up, took care of him.
His chin is grabbed harshly, the bruising making it worse. The Joker laughs, pushing his face upwards and close to his own. He can smell death and acid on this villain, and Jason whimpers again.
"How long do you think it's been, Jason?"
The robin doesn't answer. He can't keep track. He tried counting the amount of times Joker visited him, but then again, that was most likely more than once a day. And sometimes it was Harley, or a low level goon dressed like Batman and Nightwing and Batigrl and her.
Time is a blur to him, he's been in pain too long. Everything hurts, even if someone were to save him now, he feels practically gone already.
He wanted someone to save him.
"What about it Jason? You think Bats will come? Save his precious son?" The Joker prods, mouth wide.
Jason wants to say it. But the words dont leave his mouth.
"Go on, don't be scared Jason. Tell me, tell dear old Joker."
"HE'LL COME FOR ME!" he yells, and it uses all his strength to just move his jaw.
"Even when he's better off without you?" The Joker asks, and he bends down to lift the bloodied crowbar.
No. Please, anything but that.
"He's going to! He has to!" Jason screams, and then tears start streaming down his cheeks.
The metal finds its way onto his hip, sending his body swaying helplessly as he cries.
"Tell me, who's hurting you?" The Joker asks, grin never leaving his face as he hits Jason again.
"Please stop, I'll do anything," the boy pleads, desperately trying to think of anything else. If only the Joker would end him now, let him go free.
"Who's hurting you Jason?"
"YOU!" He shrieks, the crowbar smacking painfully across his chest and ripping at the skin. It's like his lungs have collapsed, he no longer has bones.
"Wrong!"
"The, the Joker-"
"WRONG AGAIN MY BOY."
Jason looks up at the pictures on the wall, squeezing his eyes shut. Blood pours into his mouth and he spits it out, shaking in his chains. "Batman.. batman is hurting me."
The next hit never comes. "Attaboy," The Joker mutters, and then he leaves.
Two
He returns the next morning. Jason assumes it's the next morning, as he's in a new purple suit. Harley gave him a dosage some odd amount of time ago, it must be a new day. His limbs are numb, his wrists are cracked and bleeding. He tries to keep his tongue in his mouth but his jaw is slack and disfigured, it’s increasingly difficult.
Jason hasn't slept in days. Dark circles accessorize his black eyes, it's a miracle he can see at all.
The green haired man sets a timer in the corner of the room, and the Robin's brain goes into endless loops of trauma. The crowbar, the explosion that almost killed him. His mind wandered to warm arms pulling him out, thinking Bruce had pulled him from the rubble. Except it wasn't his father at all.
Batman hadn't even tried.
"Jason." The Joker says sweetly, walking around the boy like a predator. The robin is helpless, he's lost all feeling in his limbs. "I thought I might tell you a story today."
The dark haired boy stays silent. He doesn't cry, he doesn't scream, he prays to a god he doesn't know for it all to stop. A bullet, a poison, the world ends in a fiery explosion, he didn't care.
"Jason."
"Just kill me already," he pleads, voice cracking and desperate.
Loud laughter echoes through the room. Jason's head hurts from the sheer volume, and it doesn't stop. It gets louder, and it carries around, and Jason lets out hushed breaths.
"I can't kill you boy, we're a great team you and I! Would you like to hear my story?"
Jason closes his eyes in anticipation for today's beating.
The Joker grabs his face again, and Jason is groggy. Fading in and out of consciousness. But as his eyes are forced open and the first thing he sees is a blade, Jason screams.
It's a dull knife, long and serrated and bloody and dirty. And in its reflection is the lunatic's face, grinning like mad. The light catches on the razor as the Joker's eyes go wide.
"Wanna know how I got these scars?" He sneers, and Jason cries. He struggles to get away, hanging helplessly from his suspension. Nothing works, and two goons from the shadows hold him still with no thought towards his bruised and broken body.
He's in agony, and he's begging. He's in insurmountable pain and he can't do anything about it. The razor is brought to Jason's lips, presses to the side of his mouth with dull pressure.
He’s muffled now, and he continues fighting.
"Just,, like, this!!" The Joker yells, dragging the blade upward through Jason's skin at a slow agonizing pace. He wants this to be slow and torturous, and Jason only cries and shakes. It hurts, god it hurts, he's being cut open, and the blood and tears mix and cause him more pain,
He almost wishes for the crowbar again and once the knife is finished on one side, he screams again. His blood bleeds from the blade and falls onto the floor, joining the rest from the past days. Months? It couldn’t have been years.
“Such a handsome young man,” the joker croons, erupting into even more laughter. “Tell me what brought the chicks in, your crippling daddy issues or your criminal record?”
Jason couldn’t answer if he tried. The Joker grabs his face, almost smelling his newfound wounds, and then pulls back, leaving him in a hanging sway.
“Let me go..” he pleads, mouth sore. His bright blue eyes are so devoid of color it hurts, and he closes them. Blood and dirt clumps on his pretty eyelashes.
“Now I don’t think I can do that dear Jason.”
Joker licks the blade clean, it catches on the man's tongue and cuts him, not that he cares. Jason's glad he's not forced to swallow the damn thing.
Well, be careful what you wish for.
Its sharp edge is brought down his jaw, down his neck, so close to his jugular veins, if only he could shift and catch himself on the blade, he could end it all.
He starts crying.
He doesn’t know when he stops.
The Asylum walls go black, and he's shrieking. Harley Quinn brings a bat to his body as the Joker moves his knife, and it finds solace along Jason's cold chest.
One cut. Two cuts. Jason screams more. His throat is raw, he doesn't even know where his terror is coming from anymore, it'd been beaten out of him.
"Bruce-, bruce stop-"
The Joker laughs. "AHA, the boys learning, don't you see? That's right, that's right."
The cuts are few, and after a while they're bearable. The hardest part to deal with is Harley"s high squeals as she beats him. She calls him cute, handsome, a songbird.
Songbird.
"You can't.."
"I can't what Jay darling? Hmm?? What can't I do?" The Queen of crime pouts, and Jason sees red.
"Don't say that," he spits, finding his voice. "That name isn't for you bitch."
The next time the knife touches his skin, it's coated in acid. And he's yelling for it to stop, he's pleading, thrashing around.
His kicks find Harley and he's flown forward and backward, still chained to the ceiling. Its desperate.
"JAY DARLIING," she sings. "Puddin what else gets our birdie going?? Mm? What makes him sing like a good pet. Oh this is exciting!"
"SHUT UP-"
"Jay," Harley flutters her eyelashes, bringing herself close to his face. "Baby? Love? Is it sweetheart?" Her mouth is wide, eyes deranged. "Perhaps it's Mister J! He stares into her gaze, and for a second the jester flinches.
If Jason wasn't suspended and restrained, he'd kill her. He knew it and she knew it and Joker most definitely knew.
"Well Jason, kill her then! Do it loverboy, why won't you end her?" He croons, and Harley feigns sadness.
"I-" he starts, unwilling to let himself hang in shame. How could he do this?
"Oh come on angel! Why don't you try?" She shrieks, and then Jason is shouting, further tearing into the cuts along his mouth as he brings his legs up, attempting to wrap them around Harley's neck.
He doesn't get very far. Someone holds him steady, and the stinging knife is brought back to his chest. An H. An A. Another H and an A.
Straight across his chest, and then it begins again. Jason's breathing is labored from his attempt to retaliate, and he slips back into his daze of unconsciousness. He can't do this much longer.
THE.
Jason can see it in the mirror on the opposite wall. He doesn't remember when that got put there. If he could reach something with his feet he could throw it. Break the glass, pick it up with his feet again perhaps, end this torture-
JOKES.
Jason feels like vomiting.
ON.
Jason vomits on the ground in front of him. Sweat sticks to his skin and he's pale, he feels a fever growing on him. The knife continues lower to his bruised skin. This couldn't get worse, could it.
YOU.
The words are engraved on his body, marred by the blood dripping from it. Jason's eyes roll to the back of his head. The trauma puts him to sleep, and the Harley Quinn whispers another "Jay Darling" into his ear before departing.
Three
Y/N’s picture is gone now, he can't even piece it together in his mind anymore. The scraps are scattered and disintegrated into dust.
This time he hears Harley before Joker, she's hanging off of the clown's arm, looking at him with the adoration of a psychopath. In her hands is a long poker, tip red hot, and she swings it without a care in the world. She giggles as her love comes closer to the half dead boy, untying his chains.
Jason lands on the floor, a crumpled heap of skin and broken bones. His head hits the ground, but it's the most beautiful thing he's touched in a long time.
He doesn't move, curling into a protective ball.
"Mister J our bird isn't moving," Harley whines, kicking him in the back. He groans, shielding himself as best he could. There's nothing on the ground that's usable, not even a sharp stick or rock, there's a used abandoned needle but it sends him into nausea.
The Joker's laughing brings him back to reality as he attempts to crawl away. The floor is appalling, disgusting, a mix of wax and blood and body fluids that he wished he could forget, but he's let go.
Jason slams his hands on the cement, using the force to wake him up and pull himself forward. His legs don't work, he's going delirious again, and then there's the sizzle of water behind him.
"Where are you going birdie?" Harley asks, and the Joker takes another step closer.
"No, no, NO-" Jason pleads. Please let him go, dead or alive he doesn't care. Just get him out of here, make it stop. It's the only word he knows at the moment, every syllable is tortuous to pronounce. He bangs his head on the cement. God he’s going insane.
Stop touching him. Stop hurting him.
He’s been beaten and tortured and degraded in the worst ways possible. He couldn’t remember what it was like to be human. And still, this was the worst pain yet.
He's pinned down as the hot poker nears his face, the symbol bright red on the end. Like a branded piece of meat. His flesh burns and sizzles as the Joker gives more pressure, and Jason's never screamed louder.
It's in the intense silence within which he screams with his whole body. It forces its way from deep in his throat, demonic and angry and scared.
He's hiding a truth from himself, and soon he's not screaming from the burning, but rather that he's stuck here. Forever.
Edged with the tantalisingly sweet release of death, the Joker will never give it to him.
The Joker will never let him die, he will never let him go. And now his cursed J is on Jason’s cheek, he’ll forever be the Joker’s pet.
When the brand stick is taken off his skin, Jason is sweating and pale and falls asleep.
"What a shame you couldn't handle it."
x
Y/N runs through the hallway with desperation. She'd tracked down Harley one night and by some god forsaken miracle, the deranged woman had blood on her skirts.
Another miracle hadY/N sneaking into Wayne Manor to ask Barbara to help her, analyzing the blood samples to track down the Joker.
They found something better.
For a second she believed Bruce's high end, most technologically advanced equipment was wrong. Babs assured her it wasn't. That was Jason's blood on Harley, less than two weeks old.
"Jason?"
The boy looks up, whimpering. He almost doesn't hear her.
"Oh Jay," she whispers from the hallway. She's just a shadow but Jason knows it's her. No one has ever said his name with such gentleness.
The woman lets out a sob. He's here, he's alive, he's gonna be okay.
Jason holds back sobs of his own as she runs to him. Her fingers are first to touch him, resting on his chest and trailing over his scars, his wounds and his blood. His torn clothes, the dirt and acid burns. Her hand stops over his heart, beating so slow she would have believed him to be dead.
But this is Jason. He's not dying anytime soon. Especially not if she can help it.
Tears stream down her face as she wraps her arms around him, holding him close.
He's gonna be okay.
Y/N is immediately supporting him as she conjures a knife to cut him down. His arms are free and he nearly goes unconscious.
She catches him before he can fall. It's not like the Joker when he needs to crawl away like a wounded puppy. He welcomes the other presence in the damp room, shaking. Jason lifts his head, and he doesn't even have to move until she's at his side. It's so different.. he forgot what this feels like.
Jason forgot what it felt like to have emotions besides fear.
He curls into her lap, slowly using her body to sit up.
"Jay look at me, please," she murmurs, holding his face and brushing the hair out of those colorless eyes. "Oh my god I knew it.. I knew you were alive.. Jay I'm so sorry-" she stops herself, kissing the top of his blood matted head.
That doesn't matter now.
"I'm gonna get you out of here, you're okay sweetheart. Stay awake okay? Okay. Stay awake for me please."
Jason nods, hanging onto her. If he lets go, she'll leave. He'll lose her and he'll be stuck here again. She'll fade away.
It hurts to move, every bone and every limb is on fire. Then she's grabbing him and they're standing up, she's practically half carrying him.
Mumbles of his name fill the empty asylum wing. Js and Jason's and Jay's pass her lips as if just repeating it is gonna make him alright.
One step, and Jason crumbles. He can't walk, it's a miracle he can feel his legs at all. "I'm not going anywhere," he mutters.
She doesn't say anything. She knows.
Footsteps in the background. Walking, jogging, running.
Maniacal laughs and snarls and spit.
Y/N bends her knees and slings him over her shoulder in a fireman's carry, and then she starts running. Down one hallway and then the next, the Arkham Asylum is a maze.
"Jay, side of my mask, the-"
"Comms," he finishes, holding the button to turn it on.
"Bat? Batgirl, do you read me?" The girl whispers, ducking into an alcove.
"I'm here. Did you..?"
"I've got him. Babs, he's alive, Jason's alive, he's breathing-" It feels so good to say, to not just breathe an empty statement.
Crying comes from the other side of the comms. Barbara composes herself enough to speak, but even then, emotion hangs in her voice. "Let's bring him home then, where are you right now? Dicks outside the Asylum with Bruce, don't worry about the thugs or the cameras, we have it covered."
"I'LL FIND YOU BIRDIE!"
"The Joker's here," Y/N tells Barbara and the air hangs with a pregnant pause.
"Okay, Tim's gonna have you turn right, we got his signal."
The woman turns, ducking into the darkness.
"Y/N,." Jason wheezes, hanging onto her shoulders with the strength he could muster.
"Jason if this is one of, one of your 'if we don't make it out' speeches-"
"Nevermind," he replies, wishing he had the energy and the ability to smile. She does, she smiles for the both of them- even if he can't see it from this angle.
"God I'm going to make him pay for this. Writhing and screaming and begging for me to end him," she threatens, listening for the next of Barbara’s directions.
She's told to go right and through a door.
There's two sets of footsteps now.
Y/N continues, trying to fill the silence. The Joker won’t track her voice, the alarms are too loud. "That doesn't matter now, I guess. You're alive and I- we thought you were dead and it took so long for me to accept that, and I still don't know how I found you but I did and Jay I'm so proud of you-"
"Hey this doesn't mean you can give me a speech of your own," Jason interrupts, and she cracks another smile. She’s rambling like she always does when she overthinks, and he closes his eyes to imagine that they’re once again on a Gotham skyscraper with a bottle of champagne. Spilling secrets and laughing like they weren’t masked vigilantes with secret identities.
"I love you Jason, and you're not leaving me again."
"HAHA I LOVE THIS GAME-" The Joker yells. His psychotic grin fills Jason’s vision as the maniac throws open a hatch, jumping down into the room. Jason is dropped to the ground and Y/N has her sword in hand, stepping in between the two men.
His vision is blurry, he can’t see anything, and the ground is warm.
He can’t succumb. Jason stands up again, grabbing a pistol from Y/N’s leg and he shoots. The feel of a gun trigger isn’t unfamiliar.
Yelling fills the room, as does the clash of metal and fists, Jason smiles as the Joker cries out in pain. Another door opens, there’s girlish laughter now, and so many footsteps. He keeps shooting, dropping enemies like a second nature because he was Jason Peter fucking Todd.
Jason’s ribs get stomped on again and he loses his gun, and metal echoes on the ground as something is dropped. Three gunshots ring through the room.
No.
No.
The Joker and the Harlequin keep laughing in glee, and Jason blacks out from crying again.
x
Cold hands grab his face. The man who laughs is, well, laughing and pulling Jason’s face close to his own. The smell of death fills his senses and Jason opens his eyes.
"How long do you think it's been, Jason?"
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