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unholyhelbig · 17 days ago

Note

need another mary x reader babe🌚 ur fics are so good omg

Title: The Demon of the Delta

Part One | Part Two| Part Three| Main Masterlist

Ship: Female!Reader x Mary (Sinners 2025)

Summary: Mary confides in reader that only one thing makes her feel alive anymore, and detrimental choices must be made to maintain their relationship.

Dt💕: @luciferdidwhat, @thinking1bee

Warnings: Blood, biting, cannon-typical violence, pet names (Darling, sweet girl, all the fun southern dialects), Strap on riding (Mary Recieving), dom/sub tones, use of good girl, blood drinking, violent deaths, references to serial killers, dismemberment (?), brutal deaths, mentions of fatal illness, religious trauma. SO MUCH RELIGIOUS TRUAMA, angst/ fucking/ and then more angst & awful grammar.

[A/n: Okay, Okay, I saw Sinners for a third time and I really needed to lean into the angst here. I never really write it, so I had to put some smut in there too. Maybe I added too much angst but I have mommy issues okay?]

“What are we doing here, Mary?” It felt like sacrilege. It was easier to keep your eyes on the surrounding woods; large oak trees that dripped with spanish moss, tousled by the gentle warm breeze offered from the nearby open water. When you were young, not older than six, you believed that the dry, stringy, plant was hair draped delicately over large branches. Women stretching out against bark to enjoy the sun and the moon just the same.

The short-lived silence of the south seemed to follow the two of you like a cloak of darkness. You’d never known true quiet, not here. Not when there was a curtain of crickets and bullfrogs scattered throughout these woods. But, they sensed what you were. The evil that had crawled into you skin and made a home there. All creatures tended to quiet, and that was the most unnerving part about this.

Not the church that sat a few feet away, a building you couldn’t enter, even if you wanted to. And you didn’t. All of the myths had proven true thus far, thankfully save for the aversion to reflective surfaces. The last thing a demon such as yourself had any interest in doing was entering the house of the lord. Especially one so dilapidated, so claimed by nature that it’s paneling was being gnawed through by green ivy and moss, and the very bugs that burrowed deeper at the sight of you.

Unshed tears collected in Mary’s eyes as she peered up at the sloping steeple. Part of the roof had caved in, tilting the entire structure to the left, as if it were sinking slowly into the mud without the rest of the world, reaching out a shaking hand for salvation. It certainly wouldn’t be found in the two of you.

“Mary,”

You tried again, in a soft, diligent whisper. Not to push her, to bring her back to you if you could. Your hand found the base of her spine with the ghost of a touch. The contact shocked a breath into her, head turning quickly towards you. Two simple tracks of wetness streaking her cheeks. She made no move to wipe them away. Regarded you as if you were a stranger.

“Sorry babydoll.” She blinked back into focus, that hard commanding look returned to her eyes as quickly as it had left. “I zoned out there for a minute. Was just enjoyin’ the breeze.”

Mary let out a rattling breath and turned her attention back to the church, balling her hands into fists and then slowly releasing the hold. “After we die, where do you think we go?” she sniffed, swallowed something heavy in her throat. “Not people, but us. Those of us that have lived much too long and robbed years from others.”

Hypothetical, it struck you as such. But there was a deep timbre to her voice that told you it wasn’t. You hadn’t thought of your own demise in decades. You didn’t have to. Even before you’d turned into what you are now, when you were surrounded by the beating heart of your family, religion had never played much of a part.

“My daddy was a good man, but a pariah. The church in town didn’t like our namesake. Still drank our liquor and spit on our floors, but barred the door when it came to worship. We were never fit for the lord. But, he used to say that every choice you make in the present affects what you’ll become in the next. He didn’t believe in good or bad, he just saw things as what they were.” Mary was watching you carefully, shoulders easing just slightly. “I used to tell him that I wanted to come back as a frog in my next life. And who the hell knows if any of that reincarnation talk was true, but it was better than everything being nothing all of a sudden.”

The damp of her hand found your own, leading you a few steps away from the building to a fallen log. She guided you to sit, did the same, so close that her breath was warm on your neck. You could smell the sweet smoke on her lips from her last cigarette. She kept an iron grip on you, fingers laced, as if you were prone to bolting away from her. Perhaps she was quelling her own urge to tremble.

You chuckled softly, a poor attempt at a joke “You ain’t going to kill me out here, are you?”

“Never, darlin’. I would never do that to you.”

You had managed a small nod at the severity of her voice. Her eyes were the same sea of black that you’d grown akin to, a flash of silver like a coin in the center. But they were heavy with emotion, with sadness, with something you couldn’t quite name. It was a different type of hunger. Something you couldn’t satiate for her, nor could she for herself.

“You can tell me anything,”

“I know that. But some things, some things are so vile that I wouldn’t blame you for leavin’ me.”

Her voice shattered into pieces and it cracked your chest open just the same. You didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what she was going to say. It was detrimental, you were sure, if she brought you to a church to confess. You brought her knuckles up to your lips, kissed them, tried to quell the storm that raged so violently inside her.

“For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and all are justified freely by his grace through the redemption’ that came by Christ Jesus. Some might argue, “if my falsehood enhances God’s truthfulness and so increases his glory, why am I condemned as a sinner?”

Mary repeated scripture smoothly. It cut like a good glass of whiskey bubbling in the recesses of your stomach. She was clearly familiar though the two of you, in your many years of cohabitation, had never spoken of religion. Perhaps it was the heady belief that nothing could kill you. That you’d never have to meet your maker.

“My mama and I would go to church every Sunday until the day she died. By the last few services she was deteriorating, nothing but bone and skin. The cancer had rotted through her to such a degree that I could smell the death on her. Some things you can just smell, even when you’re human and fragile enough to succumb to the same illness.” she squeezed your hand, brief, but clinging. “I think that’s when I stopped believing in a higher power, you know? There was so much time for God to stop what was happening to her. She was in those pews every Sunday wasting away until the pastor came by for her final rights. Still hoping till the end that some miracle would save her, and I always wondered, what kind of an all powerful being would cause such pain to someone so loyal?”

She shook her head, “Don’t think about it much now, I suppose. Not for me, and not for you, and not for Stack. We’ve survived this long without causing trouble. But I went and fucked that up and I can’t help but worry that if we do have to meet our maker, that he won’t show any type of mercy. Not for our kind. Not when he killed a woman who delivered half the babies in the Delta and nursed them when their own mama’s died.”

“Mary, darling” You gently took her face in your hands, running your thumbs over the tear-streaked skin. She shivered at your touch. “You are not going to have to face this for a very long time. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

There was a small, broken, whimper that escaped her chest, her fingers wrapping around your wrists with a casualness that reflected her distress, how close she wanted to be to you. “I’ve hurt so many people.”

You’d watched Mary sink her teeth into hundreds of necks, had been driven by her hunger in a way that would never truly be extinguished. She was always smattered in red pulp more than not, and it had never gotten to her before. Centuries of doing the same thing over and over again could make one numb, or it could throw them fully into the sins committed in passing.

“No, baby. It’s for survival.”

“When you’ve lived as long as I have, you begin to get consumed with this numbness. This nothing that starts as a tiny pinprick and keeps festering like a black hole. And sometimes there are lights, there’s Stack and Sammie and you, my beautiful girl, but they’re just dimmed by that neverending void.”

Mary clenched her eyes shut, nuzzled into your hand, a trembled whisper. “I found something that helps.”

Something not someone. You hardly expected Mary to step out on you, both inherently sexual creatures that often participated in exploration together. And you highly doubted that she had found a therapist that worked after hours for the undead folk that wandered the streets of Mississippi. The lack of noise, of sound, started to bother you.

“What’s happened, Mary?”

She stood suddenly, too anxious to be close. Her scent had shifted to panic, to worry. A heady pine-like odor that clung much too long to your person. She didn’t retreat from you, just stood and stared, opening and closing her mouth like a fish. Her hands were tucked against her stomach. You couldn’t tell if it was to keep them from clenching or shaking.

“It was all me.”

It took you a moment to unfurrow your eyebrows, for the puzzle pieces to fit together. But all the fight left your disposition when the fuzzy picture finally began to form. Four simple words had your stomach clenching in the way that made you want to vomit in the underbrush of the surrounding wood.

“I’m uh,” You stood on less shaky legs than you anticipated. “I’m going to need a little more context here. Because if you’re saying what I think you’re saying.”

“I am.”

“You’re not.”

Denial had always been your greatest weapon and you would continue to wield it dutifully. It cut through the cold that seeped into your bones. You waited for Mary to crack a smile and tell you she was joking. It was a horrible attempt at humor, but that’s all it was because your Mary wouldn’t dare do this. Instead of speaking, she ducked her head like a kicked puppy, a whimper accompanying her display.

“You’ve brought me out here to help me understand why you’ve slaughtered a good portion of the Delta?” Your words came out with more venom than intended. Mary had a tendency to match the energy that was thrown out onto the playing field and you’d just doused the grass in acid. Her head snapped up, eyes flashing in indignance. “Is that it?”

“No! Don’t go puttin’ words into my mouth,” She took a step forward and you took one back. A sardonic laugh escaped her. “What, pet? Are you scared of me now?”

Your mouth was dry and it hurt to swallow. You couldn’t be near her right now, not in this dilapidated part of the forest with a crumbling church in the foreground. She wanted to talk about good and evil, but there was a thing past evil and you loved her more than words could describe. She was in your veins, in your blood, engraved into you like your DNA was intertwined.

“No, you’re not. I know how fear colors your cheeks and this is different. What is it?” She lifted a brow, reading you as perfectly as she always had. As she spoke she kept taking measured steps towards you. You matched her pound for pound until your back hit the smooth bark of a looming oak that must have been older than the both of you combined.

When you didn’t answer her hand came up to your throat, wrapped around it perfectly. Not enough to hurt, but a gentle squeeze that made sure you got your thoughts in order before you dared opening your mouth to speak again. She tilted her head to the side expectantly.

“This is dangerous.”

“This is you not answering my question, babydoll. I won’t ask again.”

“I’m horrified, Mary.” You whispered, her grip loosening, but her hand remained clamped where it was. “But I understand. I think I’ve known this entire time, I was just too damn content to mention anything. I still am. You could tear your way through the other half of the Delta and I’d wash the blood from your skin. Do you understand?”

Mary let out a shaking breath, gave you a moment to savor the exhale so close to your lips before her mouth was on yours. A startled hum moved through you, body moving in accordance with its own desires. You encircled Mary’s waist with your arms, pulled her as close as she could get, allowed her to swallow all of your small noises of pleasure.

The heel of your boot slid on a patch of mud at the base of the tree. The world tilted and in your haze you scrambled. The only thing in grabbing range was the lapel of Mary’s jacket. The air was knocked out of your lungs when you hit the ground, and the lack of air was knocked out for a second time when Mary landed on top of you.

You couldn’t help laughing. It was a horrible situation. Mary was giggling into your neck and it was hard to imagine this as the creature that had wreaked havoc along the small towns that branched out from Greenwood.

“That was very sexy.” She nosed at your jaw “You’ve never been hotter.”

She bracketed your head with her arms, hovering over you. Exhilaration shot through you like a bullet. There was a smear of mud on her cheek and too much of it coating your back. She pressed her pelvis against your own, let out a small groan.

“Are you packing, doll?”

You blushed dangerously, watching the smirk curve against Mary’s lips. Her hand trailed, worked expertly at the zipper of your pants. Her touch was cold from the elements, from her nature itself. Her floral perfume clouded your throat and your lungs, and the more she touched, the more you forgot about what exactly those hands had done.

She crept down your body, tapped your hip in a silent bid to get you to lift them. You did so, sufficiently dumbed down enough to follow absolutely anything Mary wanted. She was your common-law wife, after all. The justification of in sickness and in health was paper thin, but that didn’t matter too much when Mary’s warm mouth was this close to the last minute toy you decided to grab.

You hadn’t expected her to bring you to a church.

Mary had no qualms. The glowing embers of her eyes never pulled away from your own as she kissed the tip of the flesh-colored strap, pressing with just enough power to make it rub against your slick. A sharp breath sawed at your throat.

“I’m wet enough for you to slide right in like the good fucking girl you are.” She purred, dragging her tongue across the length. You whined, desperate and needy and wishing you were buried inside her. “You interested in fuckin’ me, pet? Makin’ me feel nice?”

“Yes, fuck, please.”

She pinched your side. “Language! Such filthy things coming from such a beautiful mouth.”

Mary shifted, straddling your waist, hovering directly over you. She was steady, a devilish look in her eyes. You went to buck your hips up, craving some type of friction. But her hand was splayed on your chest, holding you into the mud in the next moment.

“We’ve forgotten our manners, too?”

“I…” You clenched your jaw, breathed out with frustration “I said please.”

“Too bad. I’m not convinced.”

You let your head fall back against the ground, hands resting on her thighs, trailing under the silken fabric of her skirt. She hadn’t worn any panties and was dripping with the pure effort of keeping you properly in your place.

Her skin was cool and smooth and you had the sudden urge to sink your teeth in, lick the blood away. Mary lifted a bro, smiled just enough for you to see the flash of her canines. “Mary I need you; I need to be inside of you, I want you to feel me. Please.”

“Mm, poor thing just wants to be close.”

She was cooing at you one moment and sinking down fully on your hidden length the next. The textured end pressed fully against your clit, making you hiss through your teeth, fingers twitching against her. You couldn’t formulate a word, a for a moment, neither could she, adjusting to the feeling of being filled up.

“M-Mary,”

She was breathless, blowing a strand of hair from her eyes. “Don’t just sit there, work for it.”

She didn’t have to tell you twice. You started slow, rutting into her, an even and torturous affair. A delicious keen pulled from the back of her throat, her head falling back, eyes catching the pale light of the moon.

“Ah, just like that baby. Such a good girl, helping me get off like this.”

She was getting close, the subtle shift of your hips were just teasing enough to bring you there with her. Your breaths were getting punctured, movements more sporadic. Mary started to roll her hips, a low moan escaping her with each bounce.

Her wetness coated your thighs, soaked through the fabric of your pants. You didn’t trust yourself to move your hands from her thighs, to dig them into the slick of the mud. But there was no purchase to be found in either endeavor as your head started to spin.

Mary fell forward, kissing you frantically and rough. It was your turn to mute her sounds with your mouth, swallowing them hungrily. Each time you pumped into her like she desired the closer you got. Anything, you’d do anything to please her.

“I’m going to come,” She whispered desperately into your mouth. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Now seemed like a horrible time to remind her of her langue. She clenched around you, digging her nails into your collarbone with a vicious sting. You climaxed with her, feeling the waves of pleasure rush through you as you held her close, pulled her against your chest as if she was in danger of letting you go. As if you were in danger of losing her entirely.

You shuddered underneath her, whimpering as she continued to ride you, head buried in your neck, breathing you in. The two of you panted against one another, let the moment settle. For a moment, you swore you heard the crickets and the bullfrogs, or perhaps it was the deafening screams of the dead that rushed past your ears.

Mary groaned as she shifted off you, suddenly empty. She had a blissed-out smile on her face, leaning close to press her lips against your own. She kissed you sweetly and slowly, her fingers tracing the edge of your jaw. She made it easy to forget about anything other than her warm body close to your own.

“You were just going to leave?” there was an anger to her words that tightened your shoulders like a wind-up toy. Mary had the disposition of a house cat, creeping close and silently without you picking up on her. It was often her perfume that notified you of her presence. Lately, she did not smell like her own. Lately she smelled like cheap over the counter scents that clung to her skin from her latest violent kill. Vanilla sugar mixed horribly with that of blood.

One of her shirts was clenched between your fingers, or perhaps it had been yours. Trivial things were harder to remember when the article of clothing was a staple in your closet. You ruined the fold job you’d performed, thumb running over the uneven stitching. Anything to keep your eyes away from her own.

“I was going to leave a note.”

Her jaw audibly creaked as she clenched it. That was the wrong, clunky thing to say, but it was the truth and that made it easier to speak out loud. There was a roiling, vicious, pit at the base of your stomach. It burned all the way up your throat until you figured your words would come out as pure white flame. When you faced her, you expected to see anger, insurmountable, instead there was resignation, shoulders slumping under her coat, hands limp at her sides.

“A…note?” Mary sniffed, shaking her head as she stepped further into your room, eyeing the suitcase on the bed. “Thirty years together and you think a note suffices as a good farewell?”

You swallowed the sour on your tongue, words whispered. “No, I don’t. But, if I saw you again, I knew I would lose my nerve. That you would give me one look and that would be enough to convince me to stay.”

“Then stay.” She closed the distance that stretched between you both. It felt longer than it was. Her hands were heavy and warm on your shoulders. “You don’t have to leave, babygirl. I’ll be better, I promise you I’ll be better. No more killing in cold blood. Just me and you again.”

Mary’s voice cracked and a dampness collected in her eyes. They were reddened from her using her knuckles to drag across the fair skin in a nervous habit, not really itchy and not really discontent. Her bottom lip was on the verge of trembling, so she pulled it between her teeth to preserve something of herself.

If this decade had proven anything, it was it’s broader introduction to human cruelty. Inhuman cruelty in some cases. A rash of serial killers had overtaken at least one section of every state and it had only become easier for Mary to con her way into homes before ripping through soft tissue and congealed blood. There was no reason to suspect someone like her. They had no clue what she was capable of.

But you’d seen it.

Stack had called you from a payphone a few weeks back. You had tangled your fingers in the curled wire of the wall phone as if that was your salvation. Y/n, she’s… you have to come to franklin and fifth. I can’t pull her back. I tried. I can’t. And you had known it was urgent enough to leave the phone dangling against the wall. Stack wasn’t one you had ever heard scared before. The emotion was so far removed from him that you nearly believed it wasn’t him at all.

He hadn’t told you the house number, but the wretched scent of too much blood led you right to it. You entered without fanfare, the property dilapidated enough to be long abandoned, needing no permission when the home belongs to nature now. You’d found Mary in what was once a grand dining room, working methodically.

Three bodies, most likely unhoused that were at the wrong place at the wrong time, soaked the wooden floor with pools of blood. She hadn’t just bitten. She’d clenched her jaw around each jugular and tore it away in large chunks. Her entire front was splattered in red, making her clothes cling to her.

Your stomach lurched at the sight. She’d bitten off their fingers, let them lay scattered across the room like children's toys. She rejoiced in stripping them of their identities, making sure they knew they were nothing to a predator like her. A small noise pushed past your lips at the thought of her actions taking place while one ounce of life remained. Her head snapped to the side, eyes glowing like rubies in the darkness of an endless mine. A spring rain had started to fall outside, the damp smell permeating the crumbling structure.

You couldn’t help but think of the church, just months earlier, how it was sinking into the softness of the ground. You had done nothing to stop her. Worse than that, you turned a blind eye and sunk further into the warm embrace that she offered. Because, Mary hadn’t changed with you. She was steadfast with her love and her attention and her promise of eternity.

Wake her up. You have to wake her up.

And how do I do that, Stack? If she’s as far gone as you say.

You take away the thing she cares about the most.

That night, you’d mulled over the idea. Mary hadn’t put up a fight when you asked her to leave the house on Franklin. Her stare softened at the state of you and smiled with teeth that dripped with gooey bits of flesh. Your chest had clenched at her genuine happiness in your presence. She had stepped over the nearest body as if it were a fallen log in the woods.

She’d cleaned herself up and was back in bed with you, where everything felt safe and right, as long as you didn’t think about what she had done. What you’d walked into. Her arms encircled you and her nose nuzzled into the small of your neck. She was rightfully exhausted, legs tangled together in the softness of light that barely had a chance to slip through the curtains.

You’d made up your mind.

The keys to the car were weighing heavy in your pocket. She’d let you take it without even asking, dusk had just fallen and the roads out of Mississippi would be empty this time of night. But none of that concerned you. Being alone didn’t even concern you. What scared you the most was detaching yourself from the only person who had ever loved you.

“You’re hurting, Mary.” You ghosted the tips of your fingers over her jaw, felt it tremble under your touch. She moved to nose into your touch, but you’d taken it away as fast as you had given it. “I can’t watch you destroy yourself like this.”

“I promise I’ll-”

“No more promises, baby.” She whined something terrible. An ache that tore from the center of her chest and bounced off the walls in the room. The years you’d created together; the countless books and movie posters and polaroids of the two of you. They were fading now, blackening around the edges. If you let yourself soften for even a moment, you would shatter entirely. “You remember what you said to me in the woods that night?”

Mary sniffed, shook her head. She used the crook of her elbow to wipe away the tears that were streaking down her face, dripping onto the collar of her shirt, wicking into the material. You reached out and took her hand, giving her cold, damp, fingers a squeeze.

“You said you wouldn’t blame me for leavin’, no matter how painful it is.”

She nodded, somewhat frantically. “I meant it.”

Again, you squeezed her hand to ground yourself to this moment. You leaned forward and placed a kiss at the very edge of her lips, breathing in the floral, tainted scent of her one last time. When you pulled back, her eyes were closed, she swallowed hard, listened as you grabbed the suitcase on the bed and made your way to the front door.

“Take care of yourself, Mary.” You tightened your grip on the brass doorknob, couldn’t bring yourself to turn around. “I mean it.”

Rain had dampened your jacket by the time you got to the car in the back lot. There was a hot, musty, feeling to the interior. Your fingers gripped the steering wheel like a vice. There was a wet hitch in your breath when you finally released it. The exhale turned into a sob, head falling forward.

You had never known this kind of pain. You just hoped it was enough to bring your Mary back.

#Mary Sinners #Mary Sinners x reader #Mary Sinners x female Reader #Sinners 2025 #Sinners movie #Sinners fanfiction #Sinners #hailee steinfeld #hailee steinfeld x reader

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electric-guillotines · 26 days ago

Text

Take Me Softly

Wanda x female reader

Summary: You've been waiting for Wanda to return from a mission, making sure everything is in its rightful place, tidying the house and ordering food, but when she gets home there's a strange feeling you just can't shake…

Content: 🔞 Domestic fluff, smut, mommy kink, fingering, oral, light dom/sub, improper use of dubiously acquired shadow powers, restraint (kind of), bottom!Wanda, light angst, brief reference to hydra captivity

Word Count: 3 ,663 Can be read below but is also available on [AO3]

Everything was exactly as it should be.

The smell of lemongrass incense hung in the air as a period mark on a day spent cleaning and tidying. The bedsheets were changed, the fridge was freshly stocked from a grocery delivery in the morning, and the living room was awash in cosy hues from fairy lights and candles.

You walked through the house, appraising your surroundings with a keen eye, taking in the mix antique hardwood furniture softened by plush blankets and pillows, natural rustic hues complimented by soft black, warm burgundy, and hints of sea green. It pulled a smile from you, seeing your colours together.

Being at ease with this place had taken time. You were so used to the nearly constant activity of others in the compound or the tower that the unassuming quiet of a private dwelling was, at times, rather disquieting . But you grew to appreciate it.

You loved seeing the Hudson river glittering in the morning sun and the abundant greenery that rushed to fill the space as the concrete dominion of New York City fell away–Sleepy Hollow was a pretty place to live. It certainly helped that it was almost perfectly situated between the Tower and the Compound so no matter where the team deplaned it would only be an hour’s drive to get home, so as soon as Wanda texted saying she had landed and was on her way home, you had more than enough time for final preparations.

Brimming with excitement, you took the wine out of the fridge and ordered some takeout, knowing that Greek food would be very appreciated. A platter of roasted tomatoes and peppers, fresh flatbreads, and juicy lamb kebabs seasoned to perfection, naturally with a healthy helping of tzatziki to go with it. To say nothing of the sweet pastries for after, nutty and decadent with citrus infused syrup.

Yes, everything was perfect, the only thing left was Wanda walking through the front door, safe and sound, and you could finally release the anxious knot in your stomach.

Wanda’s mission had been a long one, longer than yours at any rate which meant you were home first and spent the last few days trying to occupy yourself, trying not to think about everything that could go wrong and send yourself into a spiral of ever darkening thoughts.

You took pride in how far you’d come since your early days with the Avengers, no longer a nervous wreck expecting the worst at every turn, reflexively disappearing in a plume of shadows when you felt overwhelmed, but able to calm yourself and work through it, even if familiar words rattled in the corners of your mind.

“You can’t be proud of yourself . You sound arrogant, egotistical. Only other people can be proud of you.”

Words from a wounded mother, projecting her pain like love, wielding life lessons like a knife to cut away everything the world could hurt you with, never realising how much you bled because of her.

No.

Making you bleed was what Hydra was for.

The warmth is draining, burning out of you, leached away by a dense, icy cold that latches onto the heat of your soul like a starving thing. It’s hungry, it's so hungry, and it has you between its teeth, gnashing, chewing, swallowing, more and more and more. It feasts until you are cold, until you are empty and frozen and dead, and you are violently flung back to the waking world screaming for the mother who put you here.

The memory passed over you, acknowledged, observed, and gently pushed aside.

Today was one of the good ones–therapy had been kind to you.

You distracted yourself from counting down the minutes by drawing, situating yourself in the den with your tablet, music playing on low volume as you simply let the image take shape.

Separate missions weren’t uncommon, you and your shadowy powers were far better suited to covert ops and even in group missions that often meant scouting ahead alone or infiltrating the location with Natasha to provide better intel.

Rationally, you knew that.

Spiritually, you were more at ease when you could fight by Wanda’s side.

Checking your phone, you smiled at the message Wanda sent announcing her pending arrival and hurried upstairs to put on something a little more flattering than shorts and an oversized t-shirt. You settled on some black yoga pants that hugged your legs like a second skin and a dark red halter top Wanda was especially fond of seeing you in because it showed off your shoulders and back, not to mention how she appreciated the colour on you.

Keys in the door had you rushing downstairs, heart leaping, excitement and relief mixing into a lightheaded rush that nearly made you stumble at the last step.

There she was, back in civilian clothes for the drive home, hair still damp at the tips from a post-mission shower, and hanging up her go-bag in the entryway.

“Welcome home, mein herz (my heart) ,” you grinned.

Wanda brightened upon seeing you, eyes all but sparkling as she quickly closed the distance, drawing you into a hug that made the house feel like a home again, its missing piece finally in place.

Sliding your arms into her jacket, you burrowed into the warm space between her neck and shoulder, arms firm around her waist, greedily soaking your hands in the warmth of her back, relishing in the weight and realness of her, the unbreakable assurance that she was home and she was okay.

“ Malyshka (baby girl) ,” Wanda whispered, sinking a hand into your hair. She breathed deeply, taking in the scent of your perfume, and let out a long, gentle sigh as if exhaling all the stress of the last several days. “I missed you.”

The rest of the world felt a million miles away at that moment.

The doorbell startled you both, and Wanda peered down at you with an amused quirk to her lips. “Dinner?”

“Of course, I ordered Greek.”

“That sounds perfect right now, thank you.”

With tender swiftness she kissed your nose and headed off to the kitchen while you fetched the delivery. The food was easily plated up and brought to the table that split the kitchen from the living room, already set, and you made sure not to forget the wine.

Between bites of food the details of respective missions were shared, less a formal debrief and more bridging the gaps in the timeline where one of you was missing. It was also an opening to vent if something stupid or unexpected happened to complicate things but thankfully, no such thing had occurred this time, small victories amidst the stress that came with being an Avenger.

The ‘debrief’ helped put a neat little bow on things, a capstone to the time apart. The missions were over, you were both safe and sound at home, having a nice, peaceful meal together like any normal couple after work, and chances were good you would have at least a week to yourselves.

After putting the leftovers away, you eyed Wanda at the sink, just finishing up with plates and glasses, absently drying her hands. She looked relaxed, content, the warm light of the kitchen bringing out the red in her hair.

She must have noticed you just standing in her periphery and glanced, catching you staring with a silly, besotted look on your face that you made no attempt to hide.

A soft laugh slipped out of her and she returned focus to her hands, making sure they were dry before she slipped her rings back on. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were in love,” she teased.

Oh, you were, hopelessly, deliriously so.

Humming in shameless agreement you approached her from behind and embraced her, propping your chin on her shoulder.

Wanda put the kitchen towel aside, laying her hands over yours. She started swaying a little and you followed her movement, sighing happily at the warmth, the closeness, the indelible weight of her presence in your arms.

Remembering the pastries, you tilted your head enough to catch her eye. “I was thinking we could melt on the couch for a few hours, continue with Brooklyn-99?” you said, smiling, a little coy. “There were pastries in the delivery too.”

Wanda gasped in faux shock, lightly slapping your arms. “You should have led with the pastries!”

An hour later and you were happily snuggled together in the den, surrounded by the cosy illumination of candles and fairy lights, pajamas on and blankets askew, only half paying attention to the hijinks unfolding on screen. You were far more preoccupied with the steady sound of Wanda’s heartbeat under your ear and the feeling of her slender fingers absently sliding through your hair.

When the occasional giggle or laugh resonated in her chest, warmth bloomed in yours and the urge to snuggle closer grew until it simply couldn’t be ignored.

Adjusting your position, you ended up with your head tucked against her neck, breathing in a warm mix of spiced almonds, amber, and white tea leaves, her go-to perfume a deeply sought comfort while she was gone.

Your intentions were perfectly innocent, you just wanted to feel closer to her, and a pleased little hum escaped you when Wanda’s hand slipped from your hair and down your back, fingertips tracing patterns between your shoulder blades.

But your lips were awfully close to her neck in such a position, surely you couldn’t be blamed for being enticed by your girlfriend’s wonderfully soft skin.

Nosing down the line of her jaw, you slowly mouthed at the tender flesh within reach, not fully kissing or biting, just careful little motions meant to tease.

Wanda’s breathing hitched momentarily.

She didn’t acknowledge it, but the hand tracing your spine became firm in its touch, blunt nails digging against you just enough to be felt.

Feeling encouraged, you began to leave light kisses and bites, enamored with the way Wanda subtly shifted under you.

Ordinarily you’d be waiting to see how far you could go before she turned the tables and put you in your proper place, you weren’t much of a brat, you enjoyed being her good little dolly far too much, but you liked teasing her, getting her worked up and lusting, wanting . You knew how to dress and style yourself to catch her attention, the words and tone of voice that made a switch flip in her brain just as she knew all the same tricks to make you a pretty, obedient mess for her.

Tonight, however, tonight was different.

The entire day felt different, in fact, like there was a charge in the air, and you’d dismissed it as anticipation while you waited for Wanda to arrive home, but now you could feel it in her as well, simmering under the surface.

Finally, Wanda acknowledged your mischief. “And just what do you think you’re doing down there?” she asked softly, an accusation without its edge.

The words came out in a low rasp, hungry with intent, “just trying to make you feel good, mommy.”

A light flush came over Wanda’s face. “Is that right?” she asked.

Slowly her hand slid down to your hip, tracing the thin band of skin exposed by your top riding up.

You smiled and lowered your head, kissing the pulse point in her neck. “You work so hard for the world, for friends, and for me,” you murmured, trailing your lips up to the shell of Wanda’s ear. “Shouldn’t you be taken care of like the precious thing you are?”

Wanda sucked in a breath.

You expected to feel her hand tighten on you, nails digging in as she prepared to flip your over, and yet. The charge in the air felt like a current running between your bodies.

Purposefully, you rocked your hips against hers, biting your lip at the friction. “Would mommy like that?”

Her hips rocked back and the little whimper that escaped Wanda nearly sent your thoughts into a feral tailspin, a flash of heat warming your belly and sinking lower. “I’ve got you,” you said hurriedly, scattering kisses down her jaw. “You don’t have to worry about anything tonight. Please, let me make you feel good, mommy.”

Wanda shivered under you. “Go ahead, malyshka (baby girl) .”

You slipped your hand down her front and underneath the hem of her sweater, relishing the warmth of her skin as your fingers splayed against her stomach.

She arched, tilting her head back to give you more room, and you greedily took what she offered, licking a hot, wet stripe along the column of her throat.

Another whimper hit your ears and you all but growled against her skin, dragging your teeth against it with enough pressure to draw a soft groan out of her.

Every little shift made you painfully aware of how wet you were, the tingling rush of blood pulled to your lower body, the throb of your clit demanding attention–you pushed it out of mind.

Moving your hand down, your fingers dipped beneath the waistband of her pajamas, relishing the way her hips canted to meet your touch, and you grinned upon finding your girlfriend in no better state than you. She was soaked, her cunt hot and sensitive as you gathered her wetness on your fingers and circled her clit.

Wanda shivered, opening her thighs to make room for you.

Her free hand sank into your hair but didn’t try to direct you, only pulling enough to make you look at her. Her face was flushed, her eyes dark and hazy in a way that almost reminded you of when lust overpowered her patience, only this was softer, needier.

Biting her lip, Wanda said, “Please, kiss me.”

A hot frisson ran down your spine and settled between your thighs at breathless quality to her voice, the urge to fuck her into the couch cushions almost intense enough to make you dizzy.

Smiling, you shifted until you were level with her, the hand between her legs slowly toying with her clit and drawing out those pretty little noises. “What was that, mommy?” you asked, far too innocently.

You added pressure when it looked like she was going to answer, her expression fracturing with pleasure, her moan swallowed by your lips.

The kiss was slow and deep, indulgent. Wanda welcomed the sweep of your tongue with a whine and an eager roll of her hips, needy hands trying to pull you closer yet she didn’t put any real strength into it.

It would take no effort for her to take control of the situation. That she didn’t made your heart swell, fluttering between protectiveness, love, and desire all over again.

You broke the kiss for air, propping your brow against hers. “Does mommy need my fingers inside her?”

“Yes, please, yes, malysh (baby) . Mommy needs you inside.”

“You’re so wet, is this all for me?”

Wanda bit her lip, rocking her hips in search of more. “Please, I need you,” she pleaded quietly.

You smiled, kissing her sweetly. “You’re so pretty when you beg for me, mommy.”

You didn’t let her say anything else, sinking two fingers into her pussy and scattering her thoughts to the wind, all focus falling to the delicious stretch of her walls and the grind of your palm against her clit. You could feel it pulsing against you, swollen and slick—your mouth watered.

Sinking your free hand into Wanda’s hair, you focused on the pace, listening to each and every sound she made as you pumped your fingers, curling them to hit the spot that had her twitching in your grasp.

The slap of your palm meeting her pussy left you almost breathless. You could feel wetness spreading on the inside of your thighs, your own cunt throbbing with need.

In want of a distraction, you growled and sank your teeth into Wanda’s neck, not hard enough to draw blood but definitely enough to leave a mark, and more than enough to send your girlfriend over the edge.

Clenching hard around your fingers, Wanda came with a loud, sharp moan, thighs shaking, hips jogging to ride out the waves of her orgasm by grinding her clit against your palm.

When she relaxed you gently pulled your hand free, sitting back a little so you could admire how slick it was.

You waited until her eyes fluttered open to suck your fingers clean, groaning at the taste.

Wanda wet her lips, dark eyes hooded. “You like how mommy tastes, malyshka ?” She husked, her accent thick as the translation to English became harder to remember. You couldn’t blame her, it was getting difficult for you too.

You nodded, fingers lingering at your lips. “I love how you taste, mommy,” you said, neediness creeping in. “I think I need more.”

Leaning down, you gently grasped Wanda’s chin between your thumb and index finger, meeting her in a slow, grounding kiss. “Would you like that, mommy?” You asked against her lips, tongue flicking out to tease them. “You want to cum in my mouth?”

Wanda nodded shakily and that was all you needed to slide off the couch and gently maneuver her to sit at the edge, pulling her pajama bottoms down her smooth, slender legs and tossing them aside.

You kneaded the muscles of her calves and moved up her thighs, scattering indulgent kisses across her skin that often devolved to bites and hickeys in a leisurely journey, delighting in each noise Wanda made, the way her hands sank into your hair for some semblance of stability.

She didn’t pull or try to control where you went, it was obvious she wanted to whenever her fingers tightened but then she just begged in breathless little whimpers, eyes boring into you, desperate and pleading.

You couldn’t possibly stay away for long.

At the first swipe of your tongue against her clit she jolted, head tilting back, nails digging into your scalp. You moaned at the taste of her, moving her thighs onto your shoulders and holding her hips.

The faint smell of snowdrop flowers and charcoal tinged the air as your energy seethed to the surface. It flowed out of your skin like oily smoke and rippled down your arms to coil around her waist, carefully securing her as she writhed in your grasp.

Wanda gasped at the chill of them on her overheated skin, eyes fluttering shut as wildly different sensations warred for her attention.

The tendrils snaked further, pushing her loose pajama top up just enough to expose her breasts and gently wrap around them, lazily teasing her hardened nipples.

Sinking down, you pushed your tongue as deep as it would go, your nose pressing against her clit. With her thighs around your head you could’ve sworn you could hear the blood rushing through her body. All you knew at that moment was heat and wetness, and a taste you couldn’t get enough of, savouring the way Wanda shivered and twitched with every flick of your tongue.

You could barely breathe and you didn’t care, your only goal was making her feel worshipped, as if you were dying of thirst and she were a fresh spring in the desert. You wanted Wanda to unravel and forget her own name, to trust that you had her and you weren’t letting go, that you would hold on so she didn’t have to.

English was no longer in reach but you knew the words falling from her lips in gasps and moans were full of praise, warming your gut and flooding your head with fog, leaving nothing but the desire to please.

Flattening your tongue, you eased your grip just enough to let her hips move, allowing Wanda to grind against you, her pace frantic and artless, feral. The throb of her clit on your tongue had you moaning and you dug your nails into her skin hard enough to bruise.

Wanda came with your name in her throat, low and strangled, desperate in its vulnerability. Her thighs shook, her back arched and you held her with firm, soothing touches, letting her ride it out on your tongue until she was too sensitive to continue, loose-limbed and panting.

Gently untangling yourself from her, you climbed up her body until you could straddle her lap, adjusting her top back into place, brushing loose hairs away from her brow until she caught her breath.

With a pleased groan, Wanda sat up.

She slipped an arm around your waist and brushed her thumb against her lips, taking in what a mess you were, hair askew and face slick with her cum, all with that same silly, besotted look on your face as before.

You knew your eyes were completely black now, only the faintest pinprick of sea green light piercing the darkness. Your loss of concentration in moments like these revealed your less human aspects, the pallor of your skin, your black eyes, the fading darkness that stained your hands and feet as if your limbs were dipped in ink.

Part of you still hated to see it, but not like this, not when she looked at you with so much love and adoration, meeting your abyssal stare as if you were the most heavenly thing she ever laid eyes on.

She kissed you softly, tasting herself on your tongue. “You did so well for mommy,” she whispered, squeezing your waist. “My lovely little shadow.”

Melting at her words, your chin dipped towards your chest, suddenly shy.

Wanda smirked lazily. “I think another shower is in order but I don’t think my legs will cooperate just yet. Would you carry me, malyshka ?”

Of all the things to make you blush tonight, scooping Wanda into your arms and carrying her upstairs felt almost childish compared to everything you just did to her, but that didn’t stop you from smiling the whole way.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda x reader #reader insert #wlw fanfic #wlw smut #wanda maximoff #lesbian #wanda smut #marvel smut #and now I flee in terror goodnight #series: Her Lovely Shadow

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latenightdaydreams · 9 months ago

Note

Alright hear me out

König and insecure reader; like he is head over heels puppy dog following them around and the reader is like “ofc he doesn’t like me we’re just friends” bc of insecurity

And and then he makes very soft advances which turns into a soft session on the couch during like a movie night 😔🙏

I'M OBSESSED WITH THIS PLOT

König x BestFriend!Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List✍🏽

>cw: fem/afab, fluff, oral, p in v, insecurity

1.8k word count

🛋️

The second König met you; it was as if he found his soul mate. Normally people fear him due to his height, but you never even mentioned it. You both met freshman year in high school at a welcoming event. In the corner of the gymnasium, you simply walked up to König and began to speak to him as if you knew him. He just gazed down at you, studying your face and realizing he was falling in love. You’ve been inseparable ever since.

A decade later and you're now both in your early twenties and still see each other every day. Even for simple things like grocery trips. You both walk close together as he listens to you talk about your day at work. He holds the basket for you as he always does, his pale blue eyes gazing down at you with a certain sparkle in them.

“Do you want to get some snacks? Maybe we can watch a movie after we unload everything?” He rubs your arm gently as he waits for your response.

“Uh, yeah.”

You can’t help but to smile bashfully up at him. He touches you as if you’re the most delicate thing in the world and it makes you feel calm; at home. In an attempt to detach yourself for the feeling you look away and step forward, grabbing a bag of candy.

König’s eyes follow you as you step forward, his hand lingering in the air for a moment as he debates reaching out for you again. Knowing that you aren’t the most comfortable with physical affection, he decides against it. Your skin is so soft that the feeling lingers on the tips of his fingers. His eyes trail down your body as you have your back to him, you’re so perfect.

When you turn back around König stands there with a big smile on his face, making you smirk. “What?”

“Nothing, Maus. Let’s check out and hurry home.” König held his arm out for you to hold as you both walked back, you accept.

One thing consumes König’s mind. You. As he drives you both back to your apartment his mind is racing with different thoughts of how he would love to express to you how much he loves you, how beautiful your body is. There is no easy way to do this; he either gets the love of his life or he loses you forever.

Back at your apartment König helps you unload your groceries before he heads to your living room to begin looking for a movie while you went to your room to change. Feeling self-conscious, you put on a pair of black leggings and a baggy shirt in an attempt to hide your body. The way your stomach looks when you sit makes you uncomfortable.

This doesn’t go unnoticed by König. His eyes trace down your body, still able to see some of your stunning shape, but he’s upset that you treat your body as if it’s bad. If only you could read König’s thoughts, then you’d never lack confidence again.

“Come, sit.” König pats the seat next to him.

When you sit, he scoots a little closer and rests his arm across your shoulders. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah.” You say softly.

König presses play and the opening credits for a recently released horror movie begins to play. You feel your body naturally relaxing into his, the warmth from his body is welcoming. His hand pulls you into him more, wanting you even closer.

“You can relax.” He says with a light hearted giggle.

You smirk and adjust the way you’re sitting so that you’re cuddling his body. One of your hands rests on his stomach feeling his solid body and gently moving your fingers in a soft pattern. He lets out a pleased hum as his hand rubs your arm.

“You smell so good, Maus.” König whispers as he leans in to smell the top of your head before planting a soft kiss.

You can help but to feel your face heat up but you keep your eyes on the movie and ignore his kiss. It’s just a friendly gesture. Then he kisses you again and his hand moves from your arm to your waist. Instantly you can feel your heart sink, as his fingers gently rub back and forth on your stomach. You don’t want him to be disgusted.

König isn’t. He loves your stomach, he loves to touch it. He would plant a million kisses across it until you’re convinced that you’re truly beautiful.

A few minutes pass before his fingers gently graze the hem of your shirt before slipping under. His warm fingers leave a trail of arousal in their wake. Your muscles tense feeling his surprising touch. You swallow hard, but say nothing; only encouraging König to go further.

“You feel so soft…” He whispers as his palm spreads out across your abdomen.

You raise your head from his chest and look up into his blue eyes. His lips and pull back into a warm smile as he studies your face for a moment. At this moment, he’s unsure if he should just kiss you or…

König’s other hand comes up and cups your jaw, tilting your head up more. Without hesitation he leans in and presses his lips against yours. Your eyes flutter closed as you return the kiss. It’s a timid kiss at first, as if the both of you can’t believe it’s finally happening.

When you pull away König only leans in more, he isn’t ready for the kiss to end yet. He breathes you in, the taste of your lips is overwhelmingly sweet. His hand on your stomach slips up towards your breasts, squeezing one through the cup.

“Come here.” König whispers when he pulls away from you.

As if you weight nothing, König effortlessly moves your body so that you’re laying down on your back. You gaze up at him as his eyes stay glued to your body. He slowly lifts your shirt up, exposing your light-colored bra and the supple flesh of your abdomen. His eyes trail down to the waistband of your leggings before meeting your gaze again.

“You’re so beautiful. You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” König says as he lowers his head to place lingering kisses down your chest and stomach.

König gently slips his hands up your back to unhook your bra, his eyes widening slightly when he finally sees your breasts. They’re perfect. His mouth instantly latches to your nipple, his other hand groping and squeezing the other breast. You close your eyes and let out a small moan, allowing yourself to relish in the moment with König.

König sits back and pulls his shirt off, tossing it aside. It’s not the first time you’ve seen his body, but this time feels so much different. Your eyes look up and down, taking in every detail of his pale skin. When his hands reach for your waist-band you put your hand on his, stopping him.

“Wait.”

“What’s wrong?” König’s pale blue eyes now darkened by how dilated his pupils are.

“What if you… don’t like it.”

König looks at you so confused. His eyes drop and trail over your body again, tugging slightly at your leggings to reveal more of your lower stomach and hips. He drops his head and begins to kiss along the edge, causing your body to tense with pleasure. Your fingers comb through his blond hair as you watch him.

“I love every inch of you. Everything about you. I always have.” König says as he pulls your leggings down alone with your underwear. His eyes trail over the beautiful mound between your legs and down your thick thighs. He takes his time pulling your leggings completely off of your legs.

You shiver as you feel his warm breath waft across the sensitive flesh of your thighs. Propped up on your elbows, you look down at him with a nervous yet excited look in your eyes as he parts your thighs. His lips continue with their trail of kisses back and forth between your inner thighs. The smell of your arousal is strong and consuming König’s senses; all he can think of is the fact he finally gets to taste you.

König’s eyes meet yours for a quick second before looking back between your legs. There is a pearly white bead of your arousal lingering between your lips, teasing his tongue. His head lowers and he flicks his tongue out, slipping between your folds. A moan leaves his lips as his eyes close for a moment, you taste divine. He buries his face in between your legs, his tongue desperately licking over your sensitive little clit; sucking on it slightly.

“Oh god, König.” You moan breathlessly.

“Maus, you’re perfect.” König says as he gasps for air coming back up.

He moves his hands from your thighs to his pants so he can undo them, eager to finally feel your wrapped around his aching cock. His tongue slips down and swirls around the entrance of your tight cunt before pulling away. Your eyes follow him as he stands to fully undress. When you see his cock for the first time your jaw drops. He is absolutely massive.

König smirks, looking at your face as you take him in. He adjusts his body to loom over yours, fitting between your legs. There is a moment where you both simply look into each other’s eyes, no words needed to express the mutual love between the both of you. His hands run from your breasts down to your legs.

The tip of his cock presses against you, König doesn’t break eye contact wanting to see your expression when you feel him for the first time. He thrust forward softly, his fat cock spreading your lips as he buries himself deep inside of you. Your eyes flutter shut as a loud pathetic mewl leaves your lips.

“Look at me, Liebling. Please don’t close those eyes.”

König speaks with a strained voice as he gently rocks his hips. The feeling of your tight wet pussy is almost enough to make him cum with barely any friction. His eyes are locked on to yours, the expressions of passion in them sends a shiver down his spine. He leans forward, resting slightly on your body as he begins to thrust into you more passionately. König’s lips press against yours leaving sloppy absentminded kisses on your neck as his moans mix with yours.

“Ich liebe dich, Maus.” König moans. “So much.”

The movie fades into the background, neither one of you even aware of what the plot is at this point. Sounds of orgasmic pleasure and bodies clashing drowns out all other sounds. It’s just you and König. The way it was always meant to be.

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shelly-vision · 1 month ago

Text

Welcome Home Cow Tools Theory: the weirdest Welcome Home theory you’ll ever see.

Hi. Welcome to my dumbass theory. Please hear me out on this.

So, in case you’re somehow unaware, Clown and Huck just held a Q&A about Welcome Home. Among the many silly questions and sillier answers, user can of maple beans asked the following question.

And attached to the answer was this image.

Now, the common response to this would naturally be “wut?” But unfortunately I spend too much time online and as such, it didn’t take me long to remember what the reference was.

Now, this probably makes things more confusing to some people. Luckily I’m here to explain it.

BUT

Before I do, I need to post the other Q&A prompt that will be relevant to this discussion.

Please put a pin in this for later. Now, I will explain Cow Tools.

Cow Tools is a one-panel comic from the series “the Far Side” by Gary Larson released in October of 1982. The Far Side consists of similar one-panel comics all telling some silly punchline. However, Cow Tools goes beyond that. The joke of the panel is very simple. The idea is that if cows made tools, they’d probably be weird and unsophisticated. However, a lot of people didn’t understand it. Upon the debut of Cow Tools, the phones of the newspaper company that published it didn’t stop ringing for nearly two days straight as people were continuously calling to ask what the joke was. This lack of understanding caused severe backlash and hate to form for Cow Tools. To put it in simpler terms, this simple thing was over complicated by people, causing them to not understand it, and in response, they turned their lack of understanding into hate. However, decades later, Cow Tools found its audience among the internet, as the sheer absurdity of the comic makes it a somewhat popular anti-joke.

Now, I bet you’re wondering, “Overwhelmingly niche tumblr user and Total Drama fanfiction writer Shelly_Vision, what does anything about Cow Tools have to do with Welcome Home, let alone the homophobia discussion you told us to put a pin in? Surely the joke Clown and Huck were making with Julie Tools is just that it’s meaningless and meant to be a non-answer, right?” And that is probably true. I probably am overanalyzing and all of this could be meaningless. However I hyperfixate way too much and said hyperfixatuon leads me to come up with theories that might mean utter nonsense. But the small chance remains that I’m onto something. So because of that, I will now present what this theory is truly about with my full chest.

Julie Tools tells us the exact reason why the show Welcome Home was cancelled. Yes I am completely serious and allow me to explain.

Let’s ask ourselves this: why was Julie Tools posted in response to asking if romance would be a part of Welcome Home’s story? What does Cow Tools have to do with romance?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Cow Tools, as a comic, has nothing to do with romance. The content of the comic itself is meaningless. What we need to do here is not apply the comic to romance, but to apply the comic’s *reception* to romance.

Now is when we need to return to the homophobia discussion. Welcome Home as a show released in the 70s. Back then, the general audience didn’t understand queer people and turned the lack of understanding into hate. What romance would result in this puppet show getting immense backlash?

A queer romance.

Yes I am fully serious in saying that this random reference to Cow Tools is meant to tell us that Welcome Home was cancelled and all mention of it was scrubbed away due to backlash from its inclusion of queer characters. Backlash and hatred of something simple that the public didn’t understand and decided to hate it because of that.

Dear reader, why would all of this stuff about Welcome Home resurface in the 2020s? Because just like how Cow Tools didn’t find its audience until decades after it was published, Welcome Home didn’t find its audience until now. In a day and age where queer people are accepted. And it seems a lot of queer people are drawn to this project.

Welcome Home is (at least partially) about queer erasure. I’ve had a feeling this would be the case for years now but this just strengthens by certainty in it.

Alright now for the more speculative parts of the theory. My main point was the general queer erasure stuff, now I want to get a little more into character stuff.

So first off, why is it Julie Tools? It feels like Frank and Eddie are more overtly queer characters, and while Julie still is very queer coded, it’s not as overt as characters like Frank, Eddie, Sally, or Poppy. Julie’s queer coding is mostly limited to her interactions with Sally. (See my Julie character analysis for more elaboration.) Well, here’s something purely speculative. As shown in the most recent update, Julie is someone who often feels like her only value is in what she can do for others. So, what if, on the cusp of the general public discovering Frank and/or Eddie and/or Poppy and/or Sally is queer, Julie outs herself as a form of self-sacrifice. That way the general public forgets its speculations about the others and all the backlash ends up being directed to Julie’s character instead? This feels kind of reachy but hey maybe I’m onto something. Uh the mentions of nonstop phone ringing reminded me of Wally’s connection to phones, tho that one’s definitely unrelated. Also seeing the Q&A show Julie in Y2K fashion and Sally in Y3K fashion felt extremely yuri to me and I’m adding that to the pile of sapphic hints. Maybe the always and clumsy nature of the tools represents awkward and clumsy romantic feelings? Yeah at this point I’m reaching.

TLDR: the in-universe show of Welcome Home was cancelled and all mention of it was scrubbed from the world because of its queer characters. I may be drowning in my autism and hyperfixation.

#welcome home #julie joyful #frank frankly #eddie dear #sally starlet #poppy partridge #wally darling #howdy pillar #barnaby b beagle #franny joyful #jonesy joyful #bea joyful #julie x sally #sally x julie #cow tools

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thewonandonly · 7 months ago

Text

BE MY MISTAKE

PLAYLIST : spotify

PAIRING : ghostface!lee jeno (nct) x afab!reader

GENRE : horror/thriller(?), fluff, smut, angst (hurtfic)

SYNOPSIS : "happy halloween! time to play one giant insensitive prank on you like the popular movie franchise "stab!" lol it'll be funny dw"

WC : 12,670 words

WARNINGS : heavily based on the scream franchise. established relationship, strong language, jeno = billy and reader = sydney essentially, jeno and reader have sexy time with the mask on, oral (f. receiving), p-in-v sex, cunnilingus, dirty talk, um premeditation 😀, no happy ending. guys this is literally about a (fictional) murderer. there is a chasing scene. think scary movie 1 in the theater but more, like, serious.

AUTHOR'S NOTE : happy october :3 when you really think about it, isn't halloween time everyday? here's something i actually worked on bc im insane. also, there's a bit of an inconsistency with the writing; i said jeno already got tickets but obvi theyre seeing it at the theater party. i was already 3/4 of the way done writing it when i remembered so pls just ignore it plsplspls i beg. as always, please let me know if i forgot any warnings <3

DISCLAIMER : the characters in this story are to be allusions to real people, and none of the situations, personalities, and actions found here should reflect reality. i do not believe in any of the problematic actions displayed and mentioned. this story was created with zero intention to violate the images of the artists.

It was October, which meant another "Stab!" movie was going to be released within due time, which also meant, everyone was going to harp on about the events that happened last year; that happen every year. The "Stab!" movies that got rereleased in theaters every year for a week were really... not all that good, in your (unprofessional) opinion. They were poorly made "based-on-a-true-story" movies that influenced a worldwide prank across the world that caused a lot of actual real world deaths and trauma. But, your boyfriend, a film student, thought it was one of the best movies ever made! You remember you both started dating around this time almost three years ago and seeing the rerelease of the 1997 slasher film was quite unexpected. You didn't even know it existed until that time, when Jeno, your boyfriend, excitedly asked you out on that first date to see it.

You could remember your boyfriend shoveling buckets and tubs of popcorn into his mouth as you could barely stomach the thought of Sidney Prescott being harassed for years, decades. Your own judgement was being questioned that night and you ignored it.

Sitting at your laptop in the library, you let out a deep and long sigh as you stared at the blank word document. Given it was October and you were a criminal history student, it was only natural that you were given the assignment on criminal offenses that happened during the Halloween season. And of course, the first thing that popped up into your head was the Woodsboro Murders, after all the rewatches over the last year. The tabs open on your computer about the crime significantly slowed down your laptop that you were willing to opt for the books that rested on the library shelves.

And if it wasn't the cherry on top of your already obnoxious day, your computer crashed. Meaning, browsing the aisles for any information about your subject and writing the information down the classic "pen-to-paper" way was the only way you were going to get your work done, which was probably a blessing in disguise, considering you knew how easily you could get distracted.

You dropped your head to your hands, letting out a sigh before you lifted your head, your laptop slamming shut.

"I wanna play a game." Your boyfriend spoke in a sinister voice as he looked at you, holding a Billy the Puppet mask from the Saw films over his face, before he pulled it down to smile at you.

You sighed again, packing up the laptop, "Not funny." You grumbled.

Jeno laughed, turning his wrist to look at the mask, "What? Who doesn't love Billy the Puppet?"

You glanced at Jeno through your lashes and zipped up the bag you had, before walking over to the Windows Vista desktop your university refused to update and searched up your keyword: "Woodsboro." And you hoped your boyfriend wouldn't peek over your shoulder and-

"Woodsboro?" He perked up and looked at your face, "Are you studying about it?" He began to overload you with questions; "Why are you studying it?" or "How far are you along?" or "Can I help you with whatever you're studying this for?"

You couldn't blame him, you really couldn't. He was like a puppy who just found a stick in the yard. You knew that if you even slightly mentioned "Stab!" or the murders, you'd have to deal with your boyfriend bouncing off the walls. You were surprised he never decided to join your criminal history class, purely based on the fact he was the most knowledgeable person about the subject that you knew.

You looked at the top three recommended books, and erased the search from the results, wandering down to the section of the library. Jeno followed close behind. "It's for my criminal history class." Was all you said.

"I can help you!" He chuckled.

You stopped right at the final section pulling out the book titled "The Woodboro Murders" by Gale Weathers. It was a best seller, apparently, if the bright red font at the top of the book wasn't enough to tell you that. You held it in your arm before you pulled the second book out and placed in on top of the other. "Jeno, I know you're excited to help but it's history. This isn't some trashy movie about slashers."

Jeno winced as you criticized his favorite movie, holding his hand to his chest, "Come on, baby, you know I know better than anyone about this stuff." He smiled, "I can help you. I don't know just the trashy horror movie stuff. I know the psychology and the science behind it."

You attempted to walk away, but Jeno quickly pulled you back to smile at you, the Billy the Puppet mask still lingering in his hand.

Jeno was always handsome, and he knew it too. If there wasn't multiple times he was able to win you over with just his looks, you'd be lying. So, when he looks at you with his soft smile, and his soft eyes, you begin to fall all over again. You take in his features; the mole that sits under his right eye, his nose, how beautiful his eyes looked.

Fuck, you swore to yourself, here we go again. "Fine, you can help me." You almost grumbled. Almost. "But, I'm not using the movie as a source." You pointed at him, "Everything we include has to be in any of these books or reliable sources on the internet."

Jeno held his hands up once more, chuckling, "I got it. I got it. Consider the existence of Stab completely erased from my mind from this moment forward."

"Good." You continued down the middle of the book shelves, grabbing another book, your boyfriend following close behind, his hands brushing against the spine of the books.

Jeno perked up, "Hey, we've got a few days before our anniversary. I was thinking we could go see that rerelease on the day of."

You glanced at him once more, "I really need to keep a counter of how often you mention that movie."

As much as you hated the movie, and it's effects after the release, it was like you were reliving your first date with him. Last year, you guys went to the same theater, ordered the same snacks — a large popcorn with extra butter, gummy candy and one large soda you both shared — and you both were lucky to get the same exact seats as your first date. And you hoped that you could relive that day over and over again.

You glanced at Jeno, tilting your head to the side, "You already have the tickets, huh?" You asked.

"Yup." Jeno rummaged through his pockets and pulled out the tickets to show you, throwing his arm over your shoulder, "Same auditorium; same seats."

You smiled to yourself. Sure, he could tick you off mentioning "Stab!" ten to twelve times a day, but... you loved him. He was your boyfriend. And the attention to detail he always had was admirable.

You pecked his cheek, making his smile grow even wider, feeling your chest tighten as you admired his features silently once again, holding the books in your arm as you ran your fingers through his hair.

He was annoying, but he was also sweet. And he was all your own.

After a long and grueling study session, cramped hands, and an overwhelming amount of information that you weren't even aware of, it was now officially 8pm, and the university library was closing for the night, the librarian grabbing the books off your desk to add to the cart of growing stock. Despite Jeno's promise, he continued to cross reference "Stab!" while he read pieces from Gale Weathers' book. You swore, you couldn't get through a paragraph before your boyfriend said, "I remember that in the movie."

The sheet of paper that held your precious grade was zipped up into your bag, kept nice and neat in between your laptop and your textbook. Jeno held your hand as he walked you through the dark sidewalk down the University Road, where your shared apartment was located. Jeno and you have lived together since the second semester started in the last week of August.

The co-ed dorm you two lived in was fairly small — one floor and only 17 dorm rooms. It also happened to be the first place you met Jeno. Jeno originally stayed in the dorm room across from your own, which is the current one you both stayed in now. You remember him peeking out of his dorm room door with nothing on but a pair of grey sweatpants, shouting something at his friends as they ran down the hallway. You later found out they were his dorm mates — Mark and Donghyuck. When you stepped into the room, the striking contrast between the two sides of the room was nauseating. Jeno had action figures, replicas and movie posters decorating his side; something every movie buff held proud. Your side was almost empty. You barely had any decorations on the wall and the only decorated area was your desk. It wasn't much, but it was home, at least for now.

When the door to the room opened, you let out a sigh, kicking off your shoes and dropping your bag on the couch, you fell onto your tiny dorm bed. "Finally, nap time." You mumble.

Jeno set his own items down and sighed, "You should relax for now and then we'll pick up where we left off."

You had a routine of coming home from either work or school; kick off shoes, set stuff down, nap. It was the same every single day. Jeno had a very opposite routine. He always kept his slippers on, he neatly placed his items beside his desk and then he sat down, and watched a movie off his scratch away chart of the one hundred highest rated movies of all time.

Yet, today, he seemed to be in a different mood. He hung up the Billy the Puppet mask next to the plethora of other horror movie icons, before his hand brushed along his prized possession, the killer from the Woodsboro murders. It was a little odd that his favorite mask would be one from actual real life cases, but you know it wasn't because of that. It was because of "Stab!" but, you know if you try to explain that to someone, they'd just give you a dirty look and silently judge you, or more rather, your boyfriend. Maybe a little bit of you, as well, for trying so hard to defend your boyfriend.

Grabbing the mask of the infamous double killers, Jeno pulled it over his head, looking at you through the mesh eyeholes, crawling his way across the impromptu king bed, leaning close over your shoulder as you laid on your stomach. The smooth pvc plastic and the polyester fiber brushed against your skin, and you turned your head to look at him. "What do you think you're doing?" You asked with a bite.

Jeno shrugged, "I don't know. Aren't girls into this type of stuff?" He whispered through the mask, slowly lifting it over his head to look at you, "I thought girls were into the, like, masked guys and shit."

You scoffed, laying on your hand, "Some girls. And I don't think it's actual killers they're into."

Jeno shrugged, pulling the mask down once more, running his hands against your shoulders, his thumbs rubbing against your shoulder blades, "I don't know. I've seen some people into some pretty messed up guys."

You rolled your eyes again, "Some people are into that stuff." You shrugged, turning your head to the side as he ran his hands over your skin, "Fuck, I don't know, Jen. I hardly even know if I like my school major."

"Fine, fine." He scoffed, "But you don't even wanna try it with the mask on once?"

You rolled your eyes, "Take the mask off, Jeno."

Jeno sighed, pulling the mask off before tossing it to his side of the makeshift bed, "You don't even wanna spice up our sex life a little bit?"

You rolled over so you were on your back, his legs straddling your hips in some type of sick power play. He looks amazing up there, you thought. Your fingers traced the curve of his thighs, "I think our sex life is perfectly fine, if you ask me." You shrugged playfully, "Maybe some other time?"

Jeno groaned, "You're ruining this marriage." He responded sarcastically, "It's someone else, isn't it?" He crossed his arms.

"Yes, oh, my god, I completely forgot I was having sex with your manager from the theater." You gasped.

"With Jaehyun?" Jeon gasped, "I don't blame you. How'd you pull him?" Much to your dismay, he climbed off from on top of you, laying his head on your shoulder as you both laid down.

You shrugged, "You know, same way I pulled you."

Jeno rolled his eyes, "Okay, quit it. I'm actually starting to think you're fucking Jaehyun." He grumbled, "Speaking of Jaehyun, the Halloween Party. Are we going or what?"

"Yeah, sure. We have nothing else going on." You sighed, "I'd much rather go to a Halloween party at the theater than here at one of the sororities or frats." You rolled onto your side so you were facing Jeno, smiling sweetly.

"Sounds like a plan to me." He gave a dorky smile, "We could probably even skip the date night and just go to the party."

"You don't wanna see the movie?" You mumbled, "Wait, let me guess..." You cleared your throat, putting on your best "Jeno" voice, "They're actually showing Stab for the party, oh my god!"

"I don't sound like that."

"Um, actually, you do." You teased, nudging his shoulder. "Did I get it right?"

Jeno chuckled, shrugging, "It's the theatre's most popular re-releases. So, for them to close down early just so we can watch the movie for a party is pretty amazing." He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close to him, "Plus, Halloween is our anniversary. It can be a two-in-one celebration."

"I guess you're right." You mumbled, "Pretty amazing." You repeated, fighting back a yawn, "I'm sleepy." You whispered as you curled up close to Jeno, smiling to yourself as you feel him cup the back of your knee to bring your leg over his hip.

His fingers brushed against the skin of your cheek, laying his head on top of yours, something he normally did when you'd nap so you had complete darkness, "Go to sleep, babe. I'll be here when you wake up." He whispered in your ear, barely above a whisper.

Your heart fluttered at his soft voice, feeling yourself already starting to drift to sleep, relishing in the feeling of his fingers brushing against your skin, his other hand pinned against the bed as it was wrapped around your back and placed on your hip. While you pinned his arm down to keep him from moving, he had your head pinned down with his own. It was your preferred cuddling position; your own pretzel twist.

You woke up hours after you had fell asleep to a loud clatter from the window behind you. Jeno was no where to be seen, and you immediately tensed up at the sound. Laying perfectly still as if you were still sleeping, you didn't dare attempt to put your life on the line.

Oh, god, you thought, is this really happening right now? Your mind began to race with a million different thoughts, "I don't wanna end up on Cold Case Files," and "I don't want to go out this way."

"Shit." You heard in a familiar voice, turning around to see your boyfriend climbing in through the window.

You sat up straight, "Jeno?" You called out through your gravely and sleepy voice, squinting your eyes as your boyfriend shined the flashlight from his phone in your eyes, your hand shooting up to block the light from your eyes, "What are you doing?"

Jeno pointed to the door, "Locked myself out." He grumbled, stumbling as he finished climbing through the window, quickly bending down as a metal jingling echoed between the two of you.

You just glanced as Jeno quickly shoved the keys into his sweater pocket, too tired to care, "Hm..." You hummed as you laid back, "If you went out with Mark and Jaemin, I don't mind." You sighed.

Jeno chuckled as he made his way around the room to set down his items, "Heh, you caught me." He rubbed his neck, climbing into the bed beside you once more, "I snuck out an hour and a half ago to go out and eat."

You could tell he was just as tired as you were a few hours ago, but he was forcing himself awake, "What'd you guys eat?"

"Meat." Jeno shrugged, "Nothing exciting. You know those two." He buried his face further into the pillow, his eyes closing, "Did you sleep well, baby?"

You nodded, "Yeah." It's all you said, reaching your hand up to brush some of his hair from his eyes, your thumb brushing against his cheek, "As much as I'd love to stay here and cuddle, I should get that paper done."

Jeno hummed, peeking an eye open, "Did you want any help?"

Your heart warmed at the question; not because he asked, because he was willing to help you even though he was tired, "No," You whispered softly as you took into consideration his restlessness, shaking your head, "No, baby. Just rest. I can handle it." You placed a chaste kiss to his neck, slowly sitting up. You grabbed a plush blanket to wrap around your shoulders, making your way to your desk as you pushed yourself off the bed.

This was normally how you and Jeno both functioned; one was awake at the crack of dawn and asleep by 9pm, the other was asleep until noon and up until 3 in the morning. It's a miracle that the two of you found a way to be with one another.

Sitting at your desk, pulling out your Holy Grail of a assignment and set it neatly on the top, opening your laptop to look at the screen as you slowly booted it up. Seemed to be running fine, so you decided it should be okay to use, even if you had to keep it plugged in. The previous document saved just how you left it — empty and barren. You didn't even have a sentence on the screen.

Maybe technology wasn't the right move for schoolwork, you thought to yourself as you compared the two forms of documentation. The sheet of paper was a little more than halfway filled, and although the pen ink smudged from your hand swiping across the paper, it still looked pretty damn good. Compared to the digital sister, the paper seemed like the one who had everything all together.

You decided to pick up where you left off on the sheet of paper, using your laptop for music and the pdf of the books you used earlier open on each tab.

You looked up from the paper, squinting your eyes as you looked at the laptop screen, highlighting the words with the cursor.

"That's interesting." You titled your head to the side, reading the line of text in your head.

"Sydney Prescott was unaware at the moment, but she noticed when the killer attacked, her boyfriend, Billy Loomis, and his best friend, Stuart "Stu" Macher were no where to be seen."

The line made you uncomfortable, shifting in your seat at the thought, clearing your throat as you read the line over and over again. Gale Weathers then goes on to describe how significant it is that Sydney Prescott should've realized, but then again, you sympathized with Sydney. After all, she loved Billy.

God forbid Jeno did something like that, you'd probably have to be thrown into an asylum.

You decided procrastination was the best option for the evening, using the pen as a paperweight and closed the laptop screen. You stood up from the desk and sighed, scooting over to the bed before laying down beside the sleeping Jeno.

Despite your previous nap, you laid your head down on the pillow and felt yourself falling asleep.

That evening, you thought about Jeno and your upcoming date night/Halloween party. You opened your eyes through the night, glancing over to check on your boyfriend, going as far to adjust the blanket over his shoulder and brush hair from his eyes to just make sure it wasn't an illusion.

God, you just wished he wasn't a maniac like Billy Loomis.

Despite your best efforts to go to bed at an early time, you tossed and turned, you shivered, your legs grew restless. And then the sun peeked in through your window, and you only glared. 7 in the morning and you were awake even before your boyfriend. Your eyes burned from the lack of sleep and you couldn't help yourself but to curse the sun as it extended across the skyline. You sat up slowly from the bed, looking wistfully out the window of your dorm room, the blanket covering your legs.

The thoughts you had in the back of your mind from a few hours before still lingered in your head, because it's entirely possible for something like that to happen. It's entirely possible for a significant other to go off the bend and be a crazed murderer. And it's entirely possible that it can be the person you share a bed with.

You sighed softly as you pushed the thought away and stood from the bed, the blanket wrapped around your shoulders. You trudged along to the bathroom inside your dorm room, shutting the door behind you as you looked into the mirror. The eyebags were a dark grey, your eyes blood shot and your eyelids hung low. You looked like death to put it simply, and you felt it.

Turning on the sink and grabbing your toothbrush, you squeezed a glob of toothpaste onto your toothbrush and began to brush your teeth. Although, you were sure you weren't really brushing as you felt your eyes struggle to open every time you blinked, your grip on the brush weakening every time your eyes weighed closed.

The bathroom door opened and Jeno stepped inside, placing a kiss on the side of your head, "Morning, baby." He whispered, grabbing his own toothbrush, "Stayed up all night again?"

You looked at him through the mirror, shaking your head before rinsing out your mouth, "No." You mumbled, clearly half asleep, "I was, like, half asleep, half awake the whole night."

Jeno chuckled, brushing his teeth, "You get anything else done on the paper?"

"Yeah, I got a lot done." You nodded, setting the toothbrush back in the drawer you kept it in, stepping off to the side, "There was a lot I learned."

"It's interesting, right?" He spit out a glob of toothpaste, scraping his tongue before starting to brush his teeth once more, leaning on his hand against the bathroom counter.

"Yeah. I didn't know it was that complex..." You mumbled, "Do you have work today?"

Jeno rinsed out his mouth, sighing, "Yeah, baby, I do." He placed his toothbrush next to yours, looking at you with a faux pout, "Unfortunately."

You nodded, pressing a small kiss to his lips, "Well, I'll be here when you get off." You grabbed his hands, squeezing them, "You should probably get ready to go."

Jeno chuckled, kissing your lips again, "You want me to go that badly?" He teased, "You inviting Jaehyun over or something?"

You laughed, "No. Just don't want you to be late."

Jeno's hands rested on your hips, smiling, "Don't worry about that." He kissed you again, lifting you in his arms to sit you on the bathroom counter, his hands brushing against your thighs, "I have plenty of time."

You pulled away from the kiss, smiling, "Do you though? You still have to shower, get dressed, and put gas in the car. Or were you just gonna make me pay for it again?" You teased, climbing off the counter, "Take your shower." You stepped out the bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

Jeno wasn't always the most punctual, which can be frustrating to you and to his co-workers. You wouldn't necessarily blame him, but you would blame his distractions. He has a lot on his plate; school, work, your relationship. He still needed to purchase a camera for his film class. He tries to act like it doesn't bother him, but you know on nights where he stays up a little later than usual, he's dwelling on it.

You sat down at your desk, trying to distract yourself from the exhaustion you felt by watching youtube videos your professor recommended and switching between that and writing your paper. Jeno stepped out from the bathroom and you felt the heat from the shower push into the room, and you smelt his conditioner in the air as he quickly got dressed for work.

"I'll be back later, baby." He pressed a kiss to your cheek, "Don't wait up, alright? Take a nap or something." He ran his fingers through your hair, and you turned to look at him.

"I hope you have a good day at work." You kissed his lips, smiling softly as he turned to walk out the door, "Why do you have that mask with you?"

Jeno paused, turning to look at his bag, "Chenle doesn't think it's an actual replica, so he said he wants to check it out on our break." He sighed, pushing his hair back with his hand, "I'll see you later baby." He smiled, stepping out the door and closed it behind him.

"Okay." You whispered, listening as his keys made a metallic sound down the hallway and the hydraulic door hinge squeaking as it closed shut.

Ever since last night, you actually sat down and read Gale Weathers' book, collecting the information from her eyes. Sure, she had a pretty shallow standpoint from it; This wasn't her trauma to write about. But, it was still pretty interesting as she pieced things together.

You were at least 5 chapters in, hunched over your laptop as you read, anxiously nibbling on your nails as Gale describes the beginning of the stressful months that were ready to approach them. Until, your phone rings. Of course it rings. First time you've actually read a book instead of skimmed the pages in months. You unlocked your phone, answering the call.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Y/N, it's Jaehyun." You could hear the popcorn machine popping behind him, "Jeno's manager from the cinema."

You chuckled, "I know who you are." You smiled to yourself, wondering if Jaehyun even knew the running joke that you and your boyfriend had; prevailing him as a God, "What's up, Jaehyun?"

"Well, Jeno's running a bit late. It's nearly been an hour and I haven't gotten a call or a text or anything from him." Jaehyun's voice shrunk, "Is he there?"

"No, no, he left a while ago. I thought he was heading to work." You put Jaehyun on speaker phone, immediately clicking the Find My app, scrolling to find Jeno, "I'm looking at his location right now and it says no location found." You mumbled.

"Alright, well, I'll try to give him a call or two. You should try, too. He might have had something happen to the car." Jaehyun spoke, "Just let me know. You have my number, right?"

"Yeah, I do." You mumbled, "I'll call him right now and let you know what's up." You quickly hung up and called your boyfriend.

Okay, he had awful sense of time and he wasn't punctual in the slightest but he's never been this late to work, especially when it helps him pay his bills and pay for that new camera he needed. You pressed the phone to your ear before it immediately was sent to voicemail with the automated voice telling you what you already knew: The number you have dialed cannot be reached at this time.

Seriously? You scratched the back of your head, setting your laptop to the side as you leaned against your elbows. There was one way to find him, something that he never left the dorm without.

You opened the Find My app once more, and scrolled to his AirPods. Or more rather, your AirPods that he's borrowed more than you used after you got them. If he opened them recently, you would've been able to find where exactly he was. So you did just that.

But, much to your dismay, he hasn't opened them since the night before, his location still reading as the restaurant he went to last night with Mark and Jaemin.

You called Jaehyun back, "He didn't answer the phone and I tried to see if I could see where he was from the AirPods he used, but no use."

Jaehyun sighed, "Alright, thank you, Y/N." He mumbled, "I hope he'll be able to get off the hook for this. He better have a damn good excuse."

"I hope he does." You whispered, "Sorry I wasn't much help, Jaehyun."

"Don't worry about it, Y/N. You did more work than I did." He gave a small "goodbye" and hung up the phone.

You really hoped he had an explanation for what's going on. You weren't the type of person to immediately jump to conclusions, saying that he cheated. You don't think he's stupid enough to pull something like that.

You sighed, laying your head down on the desk as you drowned in your thoughts, feeling the exhaustion take over your body as laid there.

There it was again. A clatter from the window being forcefully pulled up. You immediately perked up, the drowsiness from the nap you don't remember taking stuck to your body. Your back hurt from being hunched over the desk where you napped.

You leaned back in your chair to peek over at the window, ignoring your back begging for a little bit of leisure after you slept like a ball for the past 4 hours. It was a little after 11 o'clock, 18 minutes before it turned noon.

Standing from your desk, you approached the window and looked out the glass, shocked to find nothing, or no one. Just the dying bushes planted by the school's agricultural center, and some fucked up tanbark that kept the moisture in the dirt.

"Hey, baby."

You jumped, turning to find your boyfriend standing behind you with his prized possession covering his face. "Jesus christ, Jen." You swore, pushing at his shoulder, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Got sent home." He shrugged, lifting the mask from his face with a smile, "The car ended up breaking down, my phone died and I had to walk 4 miles down the road to get there.” He dropped his bag on the footboard bench at the end of the bed frame, setting the mask on top of it.

"Jen, you really gotta start going to work in time." You sighed, "What if you get fired?"

"Come on, baby, it's just a part-time job." He chuckled, pulling you closer to him, "I can find something else."

"Fuck, Jen, do you know how bad that'll look if they call the theater and they have to tell them you're unreliable for calling out or for showing up late?" You ranted, letting go of his hands, "You know I can't afford to pay for this dorm by myself, let alone my school payments."

"Jeez, babe, relax." He chuckled, "Come on, why don't you take some of that aggression out another way?"

"Jeno," You sighed.

"Y/N," He responded, "When's the last time you and I had nasty, angry sex, huh?" He chuckled, grabbing your hands again, "I miss you, baby." He whispered, pulling you into a tight hug, squeezing you.

You hated to admit you missed it, too. Especially when you were this annoyed with Jeno, you hated that this was turning you on, listening to him talk about it.

"Come on, baby." He whispered in your ear, guiding your hand to the bulge in his pants, "Seeing you all angry gets me worked up, baby, I can't help it."

"Jeno." You rubbed him through his pants, "Jen,"

"Hm?" He pressed open mouthed kisses to your neck, his hands brushing against your skin in a desperate attempt to soothe his thoughts.

"Please, baby, just listen to me for 3 seconds."

Jeno pulled away from kissing your neck, humming, "Okay, okay, I'm listening."

"Tomorrow, you're going into work and you're gonna be on time, with your phone charged and everything." You cupped his cheek, "I don't want you to lose your job because you're late."

"Okay, mistress." He teased, "You've have a little dominatrix hidden, don't you?" Jeno kissed at your cheeks, as he cupped them.

"Stop making it sexual."

He chuckled, "I can't help it, baby. I romanticize everything you do, babe." He whispered gently before he kissed you, sitting you down on the mattress of the bed, "It's cute seeing you act all tough and strict." He kissed at your skin, pressing you down against the mattress, straddling your hips.

His tongue brushed against your neck as he kissed you, his hands pushing your shirt over your head, letting your hands rest on his thighs.

Jeno pulled away from kissing at your neck, smiling down at you, "Do we have any condoms left?"

You sat up, looking at the bedside table, "Probably in the drawer."

Jeno crawled off of you to rummage through the drawer, clicking his tongue, "Damn." He mumbled, flitting through papers before he let out an exclamation, pulling out the foiled packaging from between the pages. "Got it."

"I knew you'd find it." You smiled, gasping as he pulled you closer to him on the edge of the bed by your ankles, watching him kneel down.

"Mmhmm," He hummed, pulling your bottoms down your legs, his lips kissing at your legs, "So pretty." He whispered, teasingly biting at your thigh, "Wanna taste you, baby."

You chuckled, running your fingers through his hair, watching Jeno's finger tangle in the waistband of your panties.

"That okay, baby?" He whispered breathlessly, his lips swollen from kissing at your legs.

You nodded, "That's fine, baby."

Jeno smiled, pulling your bottoms and underwear down your legs, kissing up your legs, his lips hovering over your cunt and his breath fanning against your wetness, "Fuck, you're already wet, baby?" Jeno's thumb rubbed at your clit, licking his lips.

"Jen..."

Chuckling, Jeno smiled, flattening his tongue against your cunt, moaning lightly as you drooled against his tongue, "Fuck, baby..."

You moaned sharply, your fingers tightening on his hair, "Jeno..."

Jeno smiled, kissing at your pussy as he continued to lick at your clit, his fingers slowly pressing into your entrance, pumping his fingers into you, "So tight, baby. So sweet." He groans, "You're so perfect, princess."

You gasped as his fingers brushed against your gummy wall, curling his fingers as his lips kissed your hip, a weak moan escaping your throat.

Jeno listened to your moans as he continued to pump his fingers inside you, sucking your clit and tasting you on his tongue. How sweet you tasted, how your slick drooled from the length of his fingers to knuckles, and how amazing your gasps and moans sounded to his ears; Like music, a symphony. If he could listen to your sounds on repeat, he would, over and over and over. He couldn't get enough, he wanted more, wanted you.

Giving a teasing peck to your slit, Jeno kissed your hip, your stomach and up your body until he stopped at your neck, taking in your scent as he struggled to unbuckle the belt he wore with his work pants. "Little help?"

You chuckled, running your fingers through his hair once more before you moved your hands down to unbuckle his belt, the echo of the buckle settling around you both, letting Jeno's lips meet your own in a desperate kiss, his tongue pushing between to rub against yours, a deep growl escaping his throat as your thumbs hooked around his bottoms, helplessly attempting to tug them down his legs. Parting from your lips, Jeno gave a breathy chuckle, his breath fanning against your face. He grabbed the condom he set down on the bedside table, keeping his eyes torn from your own for no less than a second.

Tearing it open with his teeth, Jeno gently pulled the rubber from the packaging, rolling it along his length, “Fuckin’ finally.” He whispered to himself, “I missed feeling you." He pressed kissed along your jawline, listening to the gasp leave your lips as he slowly pressed into you. "Shit, you feel so good." He whispered.

Jeno slowly started moving, and you've been thinking — actually thinking about something he mentioned that you couldn't possibly know if it was a joke or if he was serious. You dug your nails into his arm, “Wait.”

His hips immediately stilled, and he looked down at you, “You okay, baby?”

You cleared your throat shyly, “I’m fine, I just—”

“What is it?” He chuckled, brushing hair behind your ear, “You can tell me, princess.”

You couldn’t believe you were saying this, and you couldn’t even believe you were considering it. But, you can’t knock something until you try it, “I was thinking we could try it with… the mask on…” You love looking at Jeno when you were having sex. You love seeing his expressions, looking into his eyes as he was buried into you and you loved watching his brows furrow together as he gets closer to cumming. But, there was something alluring behind the idea of the mask. Almost like it was a mystery to how he’s feeling. It was sounding more exciting as every second passed. And, you could see just how excited Jeno was as he reached over to where he set the mask down, smiling at you as he pulled it on. Attempting to move, you rested your hand on his chest, “Ah, first, some ground rules.”

Jeno moved the mask to the side, his eye peeking at you, “All ears.”

“First, keep the freaky murders out of this, okay?” You started, watching him nod, “Second, this is just to test it out. I didn’t wanna just immediately cross it off the list of freaky shit we’ve done if we don’t do it.”

“Understandable.”

“Third, Roleplay is optional. But, I’m keeping anything too crazy off the table.” You looked at him, “Got it?”

“Got it, baby.” He smiled, leaning forward to press a kiss to your cheek, “I love you, princess.”

“I love you, too, Jen.” You cupped his cheek, kissing him on the lips, slipping your tongue along his own to reignite the fire that wasn’t completely snuffed. Jeno eagerly reciprocated, his moan vibrating against your lips.

“Damn, don’t know if I really wanna keep the mask on now.”

You giggled, pressing another kiss against his lips, “Better put it back on before I change my mind.”

Jeno placed the mask back against his face, his eyes showing the smile you couldn’t see through the barrier, “I’m gonna start moving, baby.”

“Mmhmm,” You nodded, biting your lips as you felt his hips moving at a slow pace, the moan caught in your throat bubbling over.

Jeno had some type of fixation with your hands, one hand tangling with your own as his other pinned yours against the mattress. He loved seeing your hands wrapped around his cock, his wrist, intertwined with his own. He loved feeling your hands tangled in his hair, grabbing his biceps and digging into his skin, sometimes around his neck, if you both felt that was the move. Your hands were his favorite part of you.

Jeno squeezed your hand in his own as his hips pressed into you deeper, swearing under his breath as he felt your pussy weep around his cock, “Feel so good, angel.” He groaned, throwing his head back, “Missed this pretty pussy.”

You whined, your chest heaving as you squeezed his hand in your own. Words attempted to escape, but only came out as gasps. Jeno always had a way of filling you to the brim, and bringing you to the edge quickly.

Jeno could feel how badly you missed his cock; squeezing around him, the choked moans and gasps, the way your body tensed, and how your eyes rolled behind your eyelids. Sweat lingered on his forehead behind the mask, his breath growing heavily as he watched you writhe in desperation, “Like that, baby?”

You nodded when your words betrayed you, feeling Jeno’s hands leave your own to grip your waist and move you along his length, “Fu-“ You moaned as his hips piston against your own, reaching your hand up to tangle in his hair under the fabric of the mask, “Just like that, Jeno.” You stuttered out to your best ability, the pleasure overwhelmingly covering your body in a sheen of sweat.

Jeno smirked under the mask, his thumb moving to rub at your clit to heighten your experience and bring you closer to the edge, “Such a good girl, telling me just how you want it.”

Every word Jeno said pushed you closer to the edge, your legs mindlessly wrapping around his hips, “Feels so good… I’m almost there, Jen.”

“Me too, princess.” He gasped, his eyes trained on where you two met, the white, creamy ring sitting at the base of his cock, “Fit together so perfectly.” He moaned out, his thumb continuing to rub harsh circles on your clit, “Feel it, baby? ’S like you were made for me. Such a pretty cunt for my cock.”

Your fingers tightened around his hair, tugging at the strands as he continued to speak, “Jen…”

“You cummin’ already, baby?” He chuckled, “Such a good girl, cumming on my cock. Wish I could fill you up and make you mine already. Wanna show everyone you’re my girl.”

As he continued his assault on your cunt, you hung onto his every word, your pussy clenching around him. The ability to form sentences with words and exclamation has long since been fucked out of your brain, the only thing repeating in your head was, “Jeno, Jeno, Jeno.”

Jeno let out a raspy moan, the mask brushing against your chest as you felt his cum fill the condom, the heat filling your belly with warmth. Your chests both raised in sync as you attempted to catch your breath. Pulling the mask off, Jeno stilled inside you, smiling down at you sweetly, "Good job, baby."

You smiled back, pecking his lips, "Good job to you, too." You hummed, leaning back on your elbows, "Okay, pull out. I gotta piss before I develop a UTI."

"I love when you talk dirty to me." He teased, pulling out of you slowly before he laid back on the bed, steadying his breathing. Laying his head on the arms he crossed behind his head, he glanced around the room while he waited for you to come back from the restroom, “Did you get any work done on your paper?”

Returning from the restroom, you laid down beside him, “No, because someone gave me a call saying some guy was missing and they didn’t know where they were.”

Jeno rolled his eyes, “Haha.” He laughed sarcastically, “I told you, the car broke down. I couldn’t do anything but walk there.”

“I’m just teasing.” You nudged him, curling against his side as he wrapped his arm around your waist, the both looking at one another sweetly.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“For what?”

“I know I’m shitty with getting to places on time, and you have every right to be mad at me for this. You shouldn’t be the only one who needs to deal with this.” He brushed his fingers along your side, rubbing his thumb along your hip, “I’m gonna listen to you, okay? I know it seemed like I wasn’t paying attention but I was.”

You pressed your forehead against his, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, “I know, Jen. And, I appreciate you for everything you already do.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, Jeno.”

You both settled for relaxing and enjoying one another’s company, especially considering you both rarely got days off together. Jeno played a movie on his charged phone, which you both cuddled and watched. And it wasn’t Stab much to your surprise. It was something you suggested. You used that as proof that he loved you, even if it was something small like this; Cuddling, watching a movie together, sharing kisses and random thoughts either of you had about the film. You couldn’t wait for another day like this, even if it was years away.

You don’t remember falling asleep, and you don’t remember Jeno leaving for work that morning. You don’t even think he said goodbye, and it didn’t smell like his shampoo in the dorm room, nor his cologne. Rubbing your eyes, you glanced around the room, for any sign he left for work; a note, a text message on your phone screen, or even a Tupperware bin with some food he made or ordered in. And after a long look around the room, you found the post-it note stuck to the paper of your notebook with all the information you could think to include in your report of the Woodsboro murders that read; “Be back later. Went to work. Make sure to finish your paper. Love you.” And in smaller hand writing underneath his already small lettering, he wrote, “P.S. Left some dirty clothes on the floor. I’ll do the wash later.”

Setting the note down, you sighed, walking around the small dorm room to find said clothes he left on the floor, but you couldn't find it. You checked the back of his chair, the bathroom, by the dresser, but you couldn't find it. You squat down, looking underneath the bed to find, lo and behold, the dirty clothes he left on the floor. You wondered how much of a rush he could've been in to kick them under the bed.

You reached under the bed, grabbing the clothes only to immediately drop it as soon as you pull it out, your hands covered in red liquid. It covered the floor where you had dropped it, a "splat" echoed in your head after you'd done so. It wasn't as thick and red as blood, and it definitely wasn't as thin and clear as water. You couldn't decipher what it was. It dried down quickly on your hands and the floor.

Horror aside, you rised from the ground, and grabbed a brush to clean the mess off the floor — you'd interrogate Jeno later — and scrubbed the living hell out of the floor. You were sure the finish over the hardwood floors were coming off by how hard you were scrubbing. You had to get the deposit back for the dorm room, even if you had to scrub the floor on your hands and knees.

Kneeling there, you felt tears brim your eyes as you thought to yourself, "What exactly am I cleaning up?" You felt your arms burn with each motion you made, you felt your breathing grow heavy. You could count this as your workout for the week.

"Jeno, you idiot." You whispered to yourself, the tears rolling down your face, gasping for air. "God, this is so stupid." You used your sleeve to wipe at your cheeks, a shaky breath escaping your lips.

You tried to push the thought from your mind, deciding to just focus on your other preoccupation, which was sitting inside your laptop, begging for any type of attention from you divided brain. So, you did. Cross-referencing your notes, reading the PDF of the books on your laptop and then switching over to Microsoft Word to type anything that came to mind, as long as it's relevant.

Yet, you could feel your mind drifting.

You sat there, pausing as you thought about everything you've read as if you could even begin to connect it to your life. There's so much Sydney Prescott went through that you couldn't even begin to comprehend. Rubbing your temples, you were reaching the final stretch of the paper, attempting to type out a conclusion that would make any type of sense for it.

The dorm room opened and you turned briefly to find your boyfriend walking in with the earbuds in his ears, "Hey, baby." He walked over, pecking your head, "How's the paper coming along?"

You tapped your pen against your notebook, "I'm stuck."

Jeno began to dress down from his work uniform, his eyes glancing at his side of the bed, the green and white heavy duty scrub brush laying on the ground, covered in the diluted red suds. "Did you grab the clothes?"

"I was trying to." You mumbled, "What was on them?"

"Why'd you do that?" Jeno voice was deeper and you can see his brows furrow as he looked at you.

You turned around in your seat, looking at him, "I was trying to help."

"I told you I'd do it." He shouted.

"Jen, I was just-"

"I said I'd pick them up and wash them."

You glanced down at the clothes on the floor, whatever was on them leaking between the floorboards and you winced at the thought of it staining the floor. "I just wanted to help! The laundry basket isn't far from where you put them."

"Well, I was in a rush. I didn't have time to throw them in the basket. That's why I left them on the floor."

You sighed, rubbing your eyes, "I just thought I was saving time by moving it to the basket."

Jeno pulled his work shirt off, groaning, "I didn't want to ruin the other clothes in there."

"And just leave it to soak into the flooring?"

"No— God, fuck." He threw his work shirt into the laundry basket before picking up the soiled clothes and placing them inside, "There, happy?"

You looked at him, "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing!" He grumbled, "Just wish you didn't have such lousy faith in me."

"I never said I did."

"You sure as hell implied it." He grabbed the basket and walked out the dorm room to the laundry room down the hall.

Your eyes narrowed at the back of his head before you went back to your paper, finishing it off in record time. It was finally time to prepare your paper to be printed, turned in and graded. You unplugged your laptop, making sure to save your finished paper before you shut it off and carried it out to the library.

You gave the two dollars and fifty cents to the librarian to use the printer, and stood by the machine to print out your report.

As the belt of the printer echoed through the library and watched each paper spit out after one another, the ink bleeding into the back, you were now preoccupied with everything you read about the Woodsboro murders, what exactly your boyfriend was upset about and whether or not, you should be the one to apologize. You didn't think you were doing anything wrong. You thought you were helping by grabbing the clothes. You really weren't concerned about whatever was on it anymore; all you know is you were happy it wasn't blood.

Maybe this whole report was getting to your head. You've read Sydney Prescott's encounters too much to the point you were scared what she went through was happening to you. How impossible is it?

You're just paranoid. You're being delusional and dramatic and you could only do your best to gaslight yourself into believing you're being a crazy girlfriend who had no reason to make your boyfriend feel like an idiot.

Drowning in your thoughts, you didn't draw your eyes away from the printer, unaware of the beeping it gave you to grab the papers it finished printing out.

Like you were a puppet, you grab the papers, tucking them under your arm with your laptop, and made your way to the hole puncher, pressing down on the lever after setting the papers inside.

Everything felt like ten tasks wrapped into one as you did them, like it was neverending.

You hole punched the papers, and placed them onto the counter, "Hi," you smiled to the librarian.

"Hi, what can I help you with?" She reciprocated the smile.

"I wanted to purchase one of the report covers." You nodded your head to the item, opening your wallet.

She rised from the chair, grabbing the cover.

You glanced down at the glass box you placed your laptop and papers on, eyeballing a newspaper that was displayed in the box. From what you could read through the glass, there seemed to have been some recent murders around the area. Jesus, you spent these last two days inside like some recluse and people have been dying.

“Can… Can I also get one of these papers?” You asked, pointing at it through the glass.

The librarian nodded her head as she set the items down, using the key on her keyring to open the glass case and grab a newspaper, setting it down beside the covers and your items, “All right, your total will be 5 dollars even.”

You dropped the bill onto the counter, grabbing your items and made your way out of the library. You anxiously hurried back to your dorm, opening the door to the room, setting the items down on your desk. The newspaper laid flat on your desk, your eyes reading over the article from a distance.

It was nauseating, reading over the details. Two people gone in two days… It was hard to stomach it.

You sat down on your chair, staring at the front page. To think you were perfectly fine while these people were living their last day being tortured. Obviously, you couldn’t have worn a cape and saved them, but, you wished there was something you could’ve done to prevent something like this from happening. The addresses seemed all too familiar. Like, you’ve seen them before. Somewhere familiar almost.

The door opened and you heard a sniffle from the doorway, “Oh, baby.” Jeno whispered, wandering over to you and wrapping his arms around your shoulders, “Baby, I’m so sorry. I-I had a rough day at work, hearing shit from Jaehyun and everyone about yesterday, and I took it out on you and I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t be making a big deal over you helping, especially not since our anniversary is tomorrow.”

You rubbed his head as he nuzzled his nose against your neck, “It’s okay, baby.” You kissed his cheek, “Hey, have you heard about this?” You motioned to the newspaper.

“About what?” He lifted his head, looking at the front page of the newspaper, “Yeah… Yeah, I heard about it. Chenle was mentioning it at work today.”

“It’s sad.”

“It is.” He sighed, rubbing your shoulder with his hand, “All we can do right now is just be happy it wasn’t us.”

You felt the lump in your throat strain as you tried to keep your tears back, “I guess you’re right.”

Jeno pecked your cheek, glancing at the papers on your desk, “You finished the report?"

“Yeah.” You folded the newspaper up, setting it off to the side, flitting your fingers through the paper, “Wanna read it?”Jeno scoffed, “Uh, yeah.” He grabbed the paper, beginning to read through it in silence, as if he was absorbing the information. You sat there, waiting for his input, which was often accompanied by the mention of his favorite movie.

Jeno read the pages all too quickly, turning to look at you, “You always have such a way with words, baby.” He set them down beside you, “You’ll definitely get a high grade on it.”

You smiled, threading the paper through the loops, preparing it to be turned in, the cover with your name, title of the report, class, et cetera, et cetera at the top. “I’m glad you think so.”

“You put work into it. Compassion, care, intellect. You would deserve it.”

“How’d the wash go?”

“They’re in the dryer right now.” Jeno leaned back on the bed, pulling his phone out, “Should be done in 20 minutes. More or less.”

Your heart still ached from what Jeno said earlier, so you returned his answer with silence, not able to find words to express yourself. At least, not yet. You decided to keep it under wraps until after your anniversary tomorrow. After the party. After Halloween.

It was Halloween night. Jeno and you have spent the beginning of your anniversary cuddling in bed, whispering soft “Happy Anniversary”’s to one another. He took you out to breakfast, lunch and shopping. “Just to show you off,” Jeno tried to convince you. But, now, it was time to sit through the two hour long movie Jeno and you both shared every anniversary. Jeno thought it’d be funny to dress up in the Ghostface costume for the evening, since he was the “star” of the movie. He said that, “behind the mask, it wasn’t just Billy Loomis or Stu Macher. Together, they worked as one.”

“I got an A on my paper.” You briefly mentioned as Jeno drove you both to his work place. Turns out, his car just needed a jumpstart.

“That’s great, baby. I knew you’d get a good grade.” He chuckled, turning his head to look at you before looking at the road again, “What’d you get docked off?”

“Turns out, I was a bit too sympathetic in my writing. I got docked a few points for ‘appearing too biased’.” You shrugged, “It’s whatever.”

Jeno chuckled, “Well, I thought it was amazing.” He smiled as he pulled into the parking lot of the theater, “Just goes to show that you have a better point of view than other people. Not everyone will understand that.”

Unbuckling your seatbelt and grabbing your bag, you exited the car, “I guess, but I understand it from my professor’s perspective. It’s supposed to be an informational report, not an opinion discussion board.”

Jeno followed, locking the door behind you both, “Doesn’t mean you can’t share your opinion.” He grabbed your hand in his own and guided you to the front doors of the theater. The theater was covered in Halloween decorations, and it was unfortunate that it’d all have to come down after this evening.

Jaehyun and Jeno’s other managers were handing out drinks and popcorn to your boyfriend’s coworkers, who wandered off to the theater they were all familiar with. Approaching the counter, you heard a loud “Boo!’’ echo off the walls, causing you to jump and hold your hand to your chest.

“Chenle, what the fuck?” You scolded, glaring at him through your lashes.

“Dude, Chenle, I told you not to do that stuff tonight.” Jeno sighed, rubbing his temples, “I told you Y/N’s been freaked out cause of all the shit happening.”

“My bad. I meant to scare Jeno more than I did to you, Y/N.” Chenle chuckled, “Sorry.”

You sighed softly, “Doesn’t help that it already happened.”

Jeno wrapped his arm around your shoulder, silently comforting you as he spoke with Chenle, “We’re wearing the same costume.”

“We, indeed, are.” Chenle sighed, “You just can’t stop copying me.” He glanced down at the mask he held in his hand, “Is that the replica? Are you seriously wearing it to this?”

Jeno scoffed, “Where else am I gonna wear it?” He questioned, moving up in the line as it progressed, “I can’t keep it hanging up on my wall forever.”

Your heart settled in your chest as you walked up to the counter, looking at Jaehyun, mouthing a quiet, “Help.”

Jaehyun already knew the predicament you were in; forced to listen to the conversation of two movie buffs talking about “Stab!” He’s had to deal with it for the last 4 years the two had worked there. There was times he’s even had to apologize for interrupting their precious reminiscences of the movie. “Chenle, Jeno, Y/N, what can I get for you guys?”

“Jaehyun!” Chenle greeted him over the counter with open arms, “Be a doll and get the lady some Sour Patch. I scared her half to death trying to scare her boyfriend.”

Jaehyun sighed, glancing at you, “Freaked out about those things happening around town?”

“You could say so.” You accepted the candy the man offered, “Just found about it yesterday, too.”

“Yeah, she could hardly sleep last night.”

“Babe,”

“What?” Jeno shrugged, “Not saying it’s a bad thing. Just a little uncharacteristic of you.”

You sighed, letting Jeno grab the popcorn and the drinks for you two, “Thank you, Jaehyun.”

“You’re welcome, Y/N.” He smiled, nodding his head to you.

Jeno guided both you and Chenle to the theater the movie was showing in, letting you take the lead up the stairs. There they were, the seats you both sat in 3 years ago, still in the condition you remember them in. So many people have sat in these chairs and would never understand just how much it has meant to you and your relationship. You sat in the aisle seat, gently taking the drinks in your hand as your boyfriend sat down beside you. He was quick to lift the arm rest between you two to pull you closer to him, his arm wrapped around your waist with the popcorn bucket sat in between you both. He accepted his drink and set it down in the cup holder.

“Just like all those years ago.” Jeno sighed, resting his head on top of yours.

You smiled to yourself, grabbing his hand in your own, “As much as I pretend to hate this movie, it still has a special place in my heart.”

Jeno kissed your knuckles, watching as his co-workers and plus one’s fill their seats. The smell of butter on popcorn filled the air, and the quiet chatter between everyone echoed off the wall.

Jaehyun entered the theater, standing at the front near the screen, “Happy Halloween, everyone!�� He greeted, crossing his arms over his chest as everyone repeated the words, “Much to my reluctance, your coworkers requested this movie to be shown because of the connotation that it is the halloween movie to watch.”

Jeno and Chenle both gave hoots and hollers at the mention of their suggestion getting picked.

“It also happens to be the first movie our favorite visitor saw with her boyfriend here at the theater.” Jaehyun motioned to both you and Jeno, everyone turning to look at you, “This is also a token of our appreciation to our team for the close end-of-the-year. We would not be here without all of your guys help and hard-work.”

The theater filled with clapping, cheering and sweet words called out to everyone’s favorite manager.

“Settle down, everyone.” He chuckled, “Alright, everyone. Presenting this evening is Stab! Please silence your cell phones and enjoy the movie.”

The lights turned down and you watched the film light up the screen. No previews, no movie trailers, just pure film. It started out how it always did; Casey Becker popping popcorn on the stove, the harsh lighting of her house bringing out the color of her blonde hair.

Despite watching the movie multiple times, every fake jumpscare, every fake gore still made you jump and turn away from the screen. Jeno chuckled, comforting you as best he could, pecking your head.

"I've got to use the restroom." You whispered, attempting to stand up.

"Wait, you'll miss it." Jeno focused on the screen as he watched the movie intently, absorbing everything.

"Jen, we see the movie all the time. I'm sure I know what happens." You stood from the seat, glancing at the row behind you, gasping softly.

The row that was once filled with Jeno's coworkers was now empty with a horrific scene that you couldn't stomach.

Heads slumped forward, bodies slack, popcorn spilling out on the floor as the hands they had on the paper bucket were loosened.

You nudged Jeno's shoulder, unable to speak, who only glanced behind him, a sigh escaping his lips, "He always does this."

"What?" Your brows furrowed, "Jeno, what?"

Jeno set the popcorn down on the now empty seat beside him, where Chenle was.

"You... You—"

Jeno covered your mouth with his hand, covering his face with the mask, speaking through the mesh, "You're too trusting."

You felt your bottom lip quiver as he looked at you through the eyeholes, the tears rolling down your cheeks. You were an idiot, such an idiot. The sneaking out despite having his keys, the car "breaking" down, the dirty clothes, the disappearing. How didn't you see it? How didn't you see that he was the problem this whole time?

"You seriously believed I wasn't doing anything against your wishes?" He whispered, "You're such a dolt. You'd think reading all the books on criminal behavior would have made you more aware of what you were getting into."

"Jen..." You mumbled through his hand, "Please, ju-just let me go. I-I won't tell anyone."

Jeno clicked his tongue as he nodded his head towards Chenle wandering around the ground floor, holding Jaehyun by the back of his neck, bringing you both face to face, "You're too cute, thinking you'll be getting out of this."

The movie continued to play in the background and you couldn't help but repeat all the lines in your head.

Jaehyun struggled against Chenle's grip, his brows furrowed.

"For what it's worth, I actually was in love with you." Jeno whispered in your ear, "Every time I was with you, I felt butterflies in my stomach and my chest ached every time I thought about being apart from you." He rested his chin on your shoulder, "Consider this orientation."

He wrapped your hands around a clip pointed blade, one you didn't even know he owned, guiding it to point at Jaehyun's stomach, yet not piercing the skin just yet.

"All you have to do is push this blade into his belly. Kinda like gutting a pig."

You shook your head, your face contorting as he explained it to you. The tears continued to roll down your cheeks and over the black gloves Jeno wore.

"I told you she didn't have it in her, Jeno." Chenle chuckled, "She's too humanitarian."

"Shut up." Your boyfriend — or rather, at this point, your ex-boyfriend — glared, "She's gonna have to get some blood on her hands if we don't want to go down by ourselves."

Jaehyun attempted to yell, Chenle's hand covering his mouth quickly.

During the little squabble the two wannabe Ghostface's were having, your hand loosened on the knife that Jeno had released to point at Chenle.

Jaehyun and you both made eye contact, silently communicating with one another. He nodded his head to the knife in your hand, you shook yours, and he looked at Jeno, raising his eyebrows. You knew what he was telling you to do. "Use the knife on your boyfriend who was actually a homocidal maniac and planned this whole entire thing."

Using the knife Jeno planted in your hand was you accepting that everything you put in for the last 3 years was over. That despite all your efforts to put him up on a pedestal as the "best boyfriend who might have an odd obsession with this slasher film" was all for nothing. That all those things people have whispered about him was true and that you were nothing more than enabler. That you were none the wiser to all these strange behaviors coming from your boyfriend.

It made you nauseous to believe that were put into this situation and you dragged innocent people into it.

Jaehyun was almost begging you, pleading you, to set all those feelings aside and to get the upper hand in this situation. He wanted you to realize that this may be the end of 3 years but that you'll be free from the gossip, from the worry of what he was truly doing, from spending an extra 3 years trying to convince yourself that Jeno is a good guy and not some maniac under wraps.

You shook your head, feeling your bottom lip tremble as you considered the options. You could either let the two toy with Jaehyun and yourself like you guys were fashion dolls, or you could attempt to end this now and give them a taste of their own medicine. It was hard to detach yourself from Jeno — you had spent every day of your life with him after that first day. You both moved in, you adjusted your schedules for one another, you shared bills, you shared chores, you shared one another. You drag your eyes along the mask that Jeno wore, silently wishing it was just some big, giant cruel prank that would end with Ashton Kutcher coming out with a camera crew and a team telling you you had gotten punk'd in this day and age.

I can't, I can't, I can't, you whispered to yourself as the tears were pouring from your eyes, gripping the knife and turning in Jeno's arm; which seemed to loosen out of habit; the knife meeting his abdomen.

"Ow!" Jeno looked at you, glaring, "You stabbed me!"

You held the crimson-stained blade in your hand, sobbing, "Please, Jen... Please don't do this!"

He looked to Chenle, then back at you, "I've never been stabbed before."

Jaehyun used the distraction as a way to make his way out of Chenle's grasp, blocking you with his body, "Both of you, you can walk away from this."

You let Jaehyun block you, exchanging the knife between your hands, allowing him to hold it out in front of him.

"Walk away?" Jeno's gloved hand covered the wound, "It's too late for that." He chuckled darkly, "You know why other killers get caught so fast?"

"Jeno, please stop!" You screamed.

"Because they don't take the extra precautions; different sized shoes than regular ones, different cologne, different clothes than regular. They never take the time to make a whole new persona."

The two walked up the stairs, pushing you both into the back row, Jaehyun's hand holding your shaking one in his, "Jeno, Chenle, please. Let us go. You already got everyone else in the theater. What does it matter if there's 2 left?"

"Because if she lives," Chenle pointed, "We're suspects."

"And if you live," Jeno whispering almost sinisterly, "She has a witness."

"I won't say a word, please... please, Jeno, you know I won't. You know I won't say anything." Your bottom lip wobbled, "Just let us go."

The movie continued to play in the background, the contours of the mask illuminated by the scene on the screen, "Don't you remember this scene, Y/N?"

You glanced at the screen briefly, being reminded of the first date you both shared; It was when Billy confronted Sydney after being arrested. Jeno was holding you close to his chest that first day together, like he didn't have a care in the world that it was your guys first date.

You shut your eyes, squeezing Jaehyun's hand in your own, which he reciprocated in comfort. Jeno spoke, but you tuned it out, trying to calm down from the anxiety attack that rised in your chest.

Jaehyun, Jeno, Chenle. Chenle, Jeno, Jaehyun. The conversation continued on and on, each arguing with one another as if it was over the last slice of pizza.

You weren't a final girl, and never did you have it in you to be a final girl. Like Chenle said, you're too humanitarian. But, you stood against the wall, your heart thumping in your chest as Jaehyun defended you both with the knife.

Everything was a blur; Jeno and Chenle teaming up against Jaehyun, Jaehyun receiving a wound on his cheek, You couldn't move. You were frozen. This wasn't a movie, it wasn't a stupid sequel to "Stab!". You were forced to watch this go on, and you could barely move.

Jeno gave a final look at you through the mask, before a thud echoed across the theater, Chenle falling right after.

You sobbed silently as you looked at your boyfriend laying on the floor of the theater, annoyed to see the cold pvc plastic of the mask and not his handsome face that you grew so familiar to seeing.

Jaehyun kneeled beside you, grabbing your hand, "Come on. We've gotta get out of here." He helped you up, and you half expected for Jeno to follow after you, not as this monster he became, but as your boyfriend.

"Jeno..."

"No, come on." Jaehyun whispered, letting you continue to stare at him as he lead you down the hallway of the auditorium. "Last time I hire Stab fanatics." He grumbled to himself, sitting you down at a square table in the lobby as he called the police on the theater's phone.

You glanced at Jaehyun, noticing the blood seeping through his work shirt, his breathing heavy.

"You're hurt."

Jaehyun quickly gave as much information as he could to the police, before he hung up and looked at you, "I'll be fine. First responders should be here soon."

You sighed, "I'm half expecting Jeno to come through the door and tell me he's ready to go home."

"It'll be hard to get used to." Jaehyun winced, leaning against the concession counter.

"I don't know if I want to get used to it."

Jaehyun sighed, "He tried to kill you." He mumbled, "He tried to have you kill me." He looked at you, "He didn't know you. Someone who loves you would never subjugate you to that."

The shock was enough to force you to stop crying, rubbing your arm with your hand. Jaehyun was right; if Jeno truly loved you, he'd never put you into this situation. The sirens and lights reflected and echoed off the walls just as the first responders arrived.

Jaehyun offered his hand to you, which you kindly took as he led you out the door.

It's been weeks since everything at the theater went down. Jaehyun and you met up frequently for emotional support. You're in therapy after everything that happened. You'd still find yourself thinking about Jeno, waking up in the morning questioning where he was.

That evening at the theater, after the police arrived, Jaehyun was transported to the hospital for treatment. Leaving you alone outside the theater, sniffling to yourself. They exited just as quickly as they entered.

"Didn't see anything." One of the police officers said to another and you whipped your head towards them, making it completely obvious that you were listening.

"You telling me there wasn't two adults in hooded robes with those cheesy Ghostface masks?"

"Nope. Only those victims in the seats."

You moved back in with your mother after that. You spent more of your time looking over you shoulder, in fear you'd see your ex-boyfriend with a knife, rather than enjoying your life as it is now.

You could hardly settle in your bedroom, laying on your side watching the movie on your television screen. Nothing too exciting, just a re-run of Mrs. Doubtfire. With your head leaning on your hand and your blanket over your shoulders, you heard a creak behind you.

You didn't dare look, but from the mirror you had angled to face your bedroom door, you saw the same pvc plastic you see in your nightmares, and the shine of the blade.

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forestshadow-wolf · 5 months ago

Text

His leg buckled, and the ground met him hard at the knees, but he didn't feel it. Couldn't feel it. Couldn't feel anything but fucking agony.

Ghost was dying; he could feel it in his heart. Literally. He could feel the soulbond unraveling. Out and away and away and away. Like plucking a live chicken, except he was the bird not the butcher. It was an anguish all too familiar. Only last time was like ripping his flesh open with rose thorns over and over again to pain the petals red, and this time felt like stitching open a wound to leave it weeping blood and guts and fluids and infection. This time it felt like festering evil.

"WHERE IS HE!" He roared, snapping at the hands on him, grabbing at others to haul himself to his feet again. His knee went weak again, but he would not let his limbs fail him. Fail Ghost. "GET OFF ME!" He did not wipe out an entire enemy outpost, only to be stopped by his own allies, while the very thing keeping him alive dies.

Some barking command that he didn't hear from outside his tunnel of vision had the burning touches release him. He obeyed a command that he didn't discern out of forced submission. The rabid thing rearing it's ugly face recognizing authority in the face of anger.

He wasn't sane as he stalked through the halls, following a faceless form he knew but didn't recognize. It's didn't matter. Nothing much but the decade old pain twisting where his heart should be mattered. None of it mattered because Ghost was dying.

He was dying while he loved.

Because some unlucky tosser touched what was his, and now Ghost was dying with fire as blood, as he unraveled Soap's heart. And Soap could feel every bit of it. The pain and agony of losing a soulbond. Again.

He knew the fire burning Ghost alive. I made the vial in his possession feel that much heavier. He carried the world in his pocket. It was smaller than his littlest finger, and it fit in his hand like he was meant to crush it. And it would save his life.

It would save Ghost's life.

He doesn't remember the walk to bring him to Ghost. Only flashes of anger where he snapped at too many hands.

But then he's there. Surrounded by white walls, and a white cot. Staring at a bloodied man in a dirty kit and black mask. Untouched on the command of an even less sane, more rabid him, only 27 hours ago.

He doesn't know who came and who left. Only remembers him, and his body, and the little glass vial, and Ghost. He remembers the chilled, damp skin when he pulled fabric back to reveal too pale skin underneath. He remembers how the needle went in easily. He doesn't move after that. Someone takes the needle from him. He felt it. Didn't see it. Saw only Ghost.

He just. Stood there. Watching. But not looking. Not seeing. He couldn't think. Couldn't move. Didn't dare hope. Couldn't pray. Couldn't beg. Pure catatonia. Nobody moved him. Nobody touched him. He heard people talking. Maybe to him. Maybe not. He doesn't know.

He doesn't remember how long it was. Maybe that night. Maybe that day too. But he remembers what brought him back.

He remembers the chest rhythm change. Something not just a natural sigh. Something deeper. Rousing. And the way Ghost's eyes flicked behind his eyelids for what felt like hours before they opened. Ghost was awake. He was alive.

And it's only then that he realizes that the agony had drained from his veins. The thread around his heart rewound. And it's then that exertion takes him. He falls to his knees hard. Ghost is quick on the call button with panic. But Soap doesn't make it 'til a nurse rushes in before black invades the rest of his vision like a shot to the skull

It couldn't have been more than half a minute before he comes too. It's bright, and there are hands touching him and voices speaking over his head and it's all too much.

"Where is he?" He swats at the abrasive touches, "Ghost. He's awake." Everything hurts. His muscles, his bones, even his teeth. But it's of small importance.

"Easy, Sunshine." A gruff voice pulls everything back into perspective. Price. Crouched at his thigh with a worried look on his face. Soap presses himself up despite protests from the nurses. "He's fine, lad." Price cups the back of his neck, "you made it in time. You saved him." He says it like a prayer. Like he knows it's the only thing that'll keep the rabid thing leashed. And he might be right.

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year ago

Text

In wolf's clothing

Yan Hybrids (Rabbit, NB. Mouse, Fem. Swan, Male) + Gender Neutral Sheep (?) Hybrid Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Mentions of Murder

Four animals are brought into questioning following the gruesome murder and dismemberment of their neighbor- A rabbit, a mouse, a swan - and a sheep. A sin of this caliber has not been committed since the founding decades of their shared home. The culprit responsible for the heinous act is to be brought to justice through execution by hanging in front of the town as a cautionary example to any who desire the same level of senseless bloodshed.

Shall we begin?-

The rabbit was an upstanding figure in the community. An outsider who quickly made a place for themselves amongst their peers, garnering love and tolerance by means of pleasant conversation and baked treats. Once the rabbit was present, sadness and grief were a thing of the past for most to whom they were acquainted. Honest and true, the rabbit has never told a lie nor done anything to jeopardize their new cozy life.

“It's such a shame what happened to Mr. Possum.” Said the rabbit. “We had plans for brunch on the day he vanished. I even whipped up a batch of the scones he loved so much.”

“Did you kill Mr. Possum?”

The rabbit doesn't bat an eye as they reply. “No, I did not.”

“Where were you the morning he disappeared?”

“I was making tarts for another one of our friends. I think you may know. Sheep may not be the most talkative, but they enjoy my baking as much as any other. Where is Sheep? Are they alright? All this fuss surely must be getting to them by now…I hope they enjoyed the tarts….”

The rabbit is released from custody.

The mouse was a timid creature. On the rare occasion she wasn't holed up in the confines of her burrow, a common place to find the mouse was wandering along the borders of town where roads ended and the treelining began. Day in and day out, the little mouse would scrounge for fallen branches. The mouse found purpose for herself weaving baskets and other trinkets for herself and the neighbors who treated her in kind.

“Oh…This won't take long, will it? I'd rather not be out past nightfall…”

*Did you kill Mr. Possum?”

Pain grips the tiny mouse’s voice as she squeaks. “I could never hurt a fly! Mr. Possum was such a gentle soul too… If not a tad misguided…”

“Where were you the morning he disappeared?”

The mouse dries her tears as swiftly as they fall. “Taking a nap after being up all evening making a necklace for… Oh, stars- Sheep, they're here aren't they? Could you let them know I'll be waiting for them outside? My poor, sweet Sheep…”

The mouse is released from custody.

The swan was nothing if not a beautiful face. Tending to the upkeep of his image, the swan had no care for the outside world nor the people who dwelled within it. A shut in, abiding his precious time in the sanctity of his study. A man of few words; letters were the only feasible way of communicating with the bird, less the matter was of utmost importance and worthy of his time.

“This is pointless.”

“Did you kill Mr. Possum?”

The swan scoffs - pinching the wall of his cheek with his teeth to avoid expression. “What good would killing that old bastard do me? Now look what you've done? If I develop wrinkles from frowning there will be hell to pay, Mayor.”

“Where were you the morning he disappeared?”

The swan brushes dirt off his fine coat. “In my study as always. That morning I was preoccupied writing notes in one of my books I intended to let that sheep borrow for a time….They are in this building, are they not? I'm sure they've asked for me by now.”

The swan is released from custody.

The sheep is a shadow upon the community. Lurking just out of sight, the sheep did everything in their power to remain unseen amongst their fellow townspeople. Their aloof nature when approach proved their odd behavior was not out of malice, but few still had their suspensions. The sheep was a sweet and gentle soul nonetheless. If only they took more care of their fur…

“Do I really have to be here? I didn't know him very well to begin with.”

“Yes… I'm afraid. Did you kill Mr. Possum?”

The sheep licks at the corner of their mouth, tongue collecting every crumb of pastry glued to their fur. How they wished they could have had just one more bite before coming. They blink, beady eyes glossing over with tears.

“Did you…kill Mr. Possum?”

The sheep fiddles with the string of their new necklace tucked beneath their shirt as the mayor presses further- fighting every urge to gnaw at the bones dangling over their chest. “I… I didn't.”

“Where were you the morning he disappeared?”

The sheep recalls a distant memory- Lines written in a book they'd read not long ago. “I…was at home. I'm sure Rabbit, Mouse, and Swan can vouch for me….”

A hand squeezes the sheep’s shoulder. The mayor, a noble and charitable elk, nods in understanding at the smaller animal. He eyes the rings of red lacing their neck as they nervously pick at the skin.

“Understood. Make sure you stick to this story if anyone else questions you. Hurry on home, young one, and be quick.”

The elk leans in closer- Whispering, though the walls of his office are as thick as the saliva the sheep swallows as he utters those dreaded words.

“It's about time for you to trim your claws again.”

The sheep is free from custody.

Scurrying on home with their tail still tucked between their legs, the sheep finds three familiar faces waiting for them there.

“Sheep!” Warmth bathes the terrified animal as they're swept into the caring arms of their long-eared companion. The rabbit dabs their wet cheeks with their apron. “Are you alright, hunny-bunny? Tell us everything that happened.”

Through teary eyes, the sheep details every portion of their integration. “I think the mayor knows I didn't do it…. I hope the same goes for you guys…”

A collective wave of relief falls over the group.

“That's good news.” Mouse adds. “If anyone is incapable of hurting someone it's Sheep… Poor Mr. Possum….I feel terrible for what happened to him.”

Swan rolls his eyes. “I’d say his demise is poetic justice for accusing Sheep of being a… well you know what.”

Rabbit shoves Sheep's head into their chest. “We all agreed not to talk about that anymore! Especially if Sheep is present! We've all had a long day… Why don't we head inside and relax after all that kerfuffle with a nice, rejuvenating cup of tea? Sheep, could you be a dear and grab that kettle I bought for you?”

“O..oh… Um…Alright.”

The sheep squeezes past Swan and Mouse as they step inside their home. The remainder of the group wait for the telltale sound of them scrounging around in their room for the present before any of them speaks.

Rabbit sighs. “Okay. I know they're horrible with keeping track of everything we give them so we have a few minutes to chat about this. Mouse, did you return the ax?”

Mouse points in the general direction of another house off somewhere in the distance. “I put it back in Squrriel’s shed where I found it last night.”

“Swan, did you check every one of those cameras you have to see if anyone saw us?”

Swan rolls his eyes. “Like anything that interesting happens in this town after nightfall. We're in the clear. We’d best head instead to help them. Plus, I need to get my time with them since you'll already taken front and center with everything else.”

The death of Mr. Possum was later ruled as a robbery gone wrong committed by traveling crooks. It took many moons, but eventually peace fell upon the cozy little town and its tight knit community once more. Sheep, unable to sleep after the tragedy, sought refuge in the homes of those there for them in their time of need.

Their doors were always open for their kind, gentle sheep.

#yandere oc #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #yandere blurb #yandere insert #yandere #male yandere #female yandere #yandere drabble #yandere hybrid #hybrid reader #sheep reader #wolf reader

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ressjeon · 1 year ago

Text

relief | myg (m.)

pairing ⇢ yoongi x reader (hints of ot7)

genre/au ⇢ smut, fluff, idol!au, long time ??

summary ⇢ the nerves have been shaking Yoongi’s usual confidence while preparing for his first solo tour — what a relief that you’re here then.

wc & rating ⇢ 3k | 18+

warnings/content ⇢ dom/sub dynamics, grinding, protected sex, riding, emotional sex?, praise kink, groping, semi-clothed sex, size kink, breast play, temperature play, orgasm control, yoongi’s hands are everywhere help, aftercare, pillowtalk <3

a/n: it's been a year since yoong's tour kicked off so i wanna celebrate with this, along with my return here! never thought i'll do this cuz i don’t usually write nor read this au but he won again on the poll last year so here we are XD! this is mainly inspired by what i was feeling while watching the live stream of both his shows in the first city of his d-day tour! pretty divider by the amazing @cafekitsune <3

after the final song, you were just as surprised as the crowd around you. a faint chuckle leaves you at the way Yoongi ended his concert.

of course, you should've expected that he'll pull something like this.

“i’m so proud of you yoongs”

you greet him enthusiastically as soon as you spot him at the entrance of the hallways near his dressing room. he’s smiling so wide, reaching you at once with his airport-like walk like how he exited the stage quickly earlier.

you beam once he catches you, wrapping your arms around his shoulders despite how sweaty he is.

“it went well” he giggles lightly, caging you in his arms before grabbing your hand to bring you to the backstage area where you both can see the audience without being seen.

the gummy smile plastered on his face never wavered as he watches the fans dispersing outside and you have an inkling that it's reminding him of the world tours with the boys before.

“i told you it would” you whisper once he turns to you, leaning in to give him a peck but Yoongi’s hand reaches up to grab your neck, pulling you in to catch your lips once more and deepen the kiss.

a small whimper elicits from you, both from being needy and worry that any staff might see you both like this but Yoongi seems to not care. it must be the adrenaline and the whiskey combo he had during the concert cause his calloused hands start roaming your body.

a total opposite during soundcheck where he’s simply cuddling you while waiting during the delay that he almost fell asleep.

though Yoongi's performed in front of millions of people for a decade now, he still feels anxious since he’s doing this on his own and it’s been a long time since he met his fans in person. he was naturally nervous about this but you’ve been doing your best to support him so he's really grateful that you’re here.

teasing him earlier when he put those yellow sunglasses on while you rake your hand through his luscious locks thankfully helped ease his nerves.

"yeah yeah i saw the cat edit"

“you’re so cute”

a firm grab of your ass reminds you of where the two of you are, nudging Yoongi slightly to release you. both breathless from the kiss, he’s looking at you in bewilderment until you gestured him to the waiting staff who’s here to take his post-concert pictures.

“pics first”

he only answered with a pout after releasing you but he followed. you on the other hand couldn't look at the photographer as embarrassment floods you, immediately retreating to the dressing room to wait for Yoongi there.

grabbing another glass of Henny, you scroll through your phone for updates on what’s going on outside. you did sneak out earlier and lined up with fans to get some merch and talked to some of them because well, you are one of them.

loving the boys and their music is one thing you share in common.

after a while, the door opens, revealing a smiling Yoongi like he hadn’t been teasing you this whole time.

maybe that was part of his plan but you’ve been patiently waiting. it even came to the point where you can't wait to be all over him now that everything’s done for the night.

placing your empty glass of brandy on the small side table, you drop your phone on the couch before approaching Yoongi. he chuckles when you hastily drag him toward the couch before climbing on his lap.

he doesn’t mind really, knowing how needy you get after he performs like you were in the past. he might’ve unintentionally teased you like he does to everyone else but it's one of the things he loved about you.

how easily you get turned on in every little thing he and the others do but especially for this. knowing his voice can make you crumble instantly gives him that satisfaction that he didn’t know he had when he first met you.

“you’re worked up this much __?” he teases, hands situating themselves on both sides of your waist. “is it the black or white one?” he adds nonchalantly, pertaining to his outfits prior to the one he’s wearing right now.

“shut up, you know what your voice does to me” you whine impatiently, clutching the silver bone necklace around his neck before leaning in to kiss him again.

ah, the chain, another one that you love seeing on him. he'll always be fascinated with your favourites no matter how long you've been with them.

you deepened the kiss this time and Yoongi welcomed them with fervour. it’s his turn to get lost in the moment now that you’re needier than him. his ending fit riled you up this much that now you’re grinding yourself desperately on him but hey, he’s not complaining.

his hands smooth around your covered thighs after, lingering between the crease of your legs before he releases your lips.

“i’m surprised you’re wearing leggings, you hate it”

“it’s cold”

“explains the sweatshirt too” he muses, one hand tugging the baggy sleeve of your white tour sweatshirt with both his aliases on your chest.

his heart warms seeing it on you, the way you’re proudly wearing him even though this whole thing between you and them still remains a secret. his hands creep underneath your top, caressing your sides that hasten your roll against his crotch.

you lean in to kiss Yoongi once more but he grabs your sides, stopping you.

“want it off though” he whispers, the mischief in his eyes shifts to a demanding one.

his darkening orbs are looking straight into yours, making you squirm against him. you didn’t waste any time at once, taking off both your sweatshirt and your bra in a frenzy, much to Yoongi’s satisfaction.

you’d know with that cocky look resurfacing on his pretty face.

now that you’re bare in front of him, Yoongi can see your crotch rubbing along the top of his denim zippers. he could watch you like this, let you get off on your own until you cum like he’s done many times but he relents.

lately, he’s been so busy with the tour preparation that he missed seeing you this needy. he reaches down to cup your pussy, not surprised to find you drenched knowing how easy it is for you to get wet.

you squirm at his touch, trying to get more friction by rubbing your swollen clit on the buckle of his belt. he knows it's you silently wanting his fingers to help you get off but his hand abruptly leaves you.

frustration looms on your face, your lips turning into a frown but Yoongi grabs your body closer and instantly latches his mouth on your tits, earning a surprised shriek from you.

“yoongi!”

you didn’t mean to be loud but with how Yoong’s been licking your pebbled nipples and occasionally nibbling them, you’re starting to forget that there are still people outside the door who can hear you both.

one hand of yours takes a handful of his messy jet-black hair, pushing his face more into your chest. he groans and continues to nip around one tit while his other hand plays around your neglected breast.

kneading and pinching nonstop, you’re unable to hold in the whiny moans coming out of you as your other hand grips his shoulder. you’re relishing it, the rough feeling of callous fingers against your now-swollen nipples.

taking a glance down at Yoongi, you notice how wet he is. he's drenched in sweat but my fuck does he look even hotter when he does. his mouth releases your peppered breasts, opting to fondle your clothed pussy this time.

“don’t tell me you’ve been wet since the first song” he teases and you look away from his heated gaze. he got his answer when he felt your cunt twitch through your clothed core. rough pads of his fingers rub you faster, more of your slickness seeping through your leggings to his hands.

he was clad in all black earlier, one of your favourites so he wasn’t that surprised.

“yoongi..” you’re panting, almost begging him with the way you're gripping his hair and shoulders. you need him to do something, anything more than teasing at this point.

it surprises you when Yoongi grabs the empty glass of Henny that you put aside on the table earlier, taking the ice to his mouth and he’s back to assaulting your breasts. he rolls the ice cube with his tongue around your nipples, making you shiver at the cold and wet sensation.

you’re whimpering, legs shaking as the band on your lower abdomen threatens to snap with how Yoongi’s cold and wet fingertips fondling your core. the multiple stimulations are pushing you nearer to your orgasm. you’re not sure if he’s aware or not, if this was his plan all along.

“..oh fuck”

“hmm?”

“yoongi..i don’t.. wanna cum in this”

you cry, eyes mustering your neediest look towards him, hoping he’ll listen to your pleas. and Yoongi did, his hand leaving your drenched pussy and mouth releasing your breast. relief courses through you, smiling at him despite the uncomfy feeling of your leggings sticking to your core.

“of course, you don’t, always wanting to cream my cock”

he doesn’t say it in a mocking manner, the hint of adoration coming forward within his hooded eyes. you get off of him once his hands release you, quickly shimmying down your leggings while he unbuckles his baggy pants and boxers.

you didn’t miss him whipping out a condom from his front pocket, making you suspicious with your arms now crossed over your chest.

“and why-”

“you’re here and i did remember you love being fucked anywhere”

he answers right away and your face morphs in shame, arms sliding down to your elbows, revealing your breasts again to Yoongi.

you hate being paranoid like this though you know he’s always been prepared. and he’s right, you do love it when they fuck you anywhere they like whether it be on the venue, in their vans or in their hotel rooms.

it’s one of your favourites when you join them on tours before.

“yoon–..” you try but he beckons you closer and helps you back onto his lap, kissing you right away and ignoring your protests because he knew right away what you were gonna say.

“none of that hmm? lemme get you ready”

he took himself out and put on the condom already before his hands skitter around your inner thighs.

“no”

he quirks a brow at you, wanting to make sure if that's what you want. even though you’re stark naked figure’s been enticing him to just fuck it and ruin you like you’ve been begging for, he's been a pro at controlling himself to prepare you.

huffing before wrapping your hands around his neck, you squeeze his nape as an answer.

you just want him inside you and you don’t wanna wait anymore.

a smirk graces Yoongi's face at your impatience before helping your body up to grind on him again.

now rubbing your bare pussy against his dick, you enjoy watching him seethe with each friction. your hips circle until his swollen tip catches your entrance, pausing just to tease him. one of his hands scrambles to grip your hip and you chuckle before lifting yourself, grabbing his dick and lowering slowly.

“fuck,fuck,fuck”

you watch Yoongi close his eyes, a plethora of curses coming out from his mouth. you’re whimpering in return, pussy walls fluttering around him to try to accommodate his thick girth.

“big..fuck, yoongi” you cry, tears threatening to well in your eyes.

you love the feeling though and he knows it but Yoongi still tries to comfort you, roaming his veiny hands around your body till he reaches your breasts.

you start moving your hips slowly, planting your hands against his clothed chest as you try to take more of him. his hands fly on both sides of your waist, feline eyes also watching you while you’re slowly adjusting to him.

“more..” he grunts, prompting you to go faster as he tightens his grip on your waist. you try to roll your hips faster then deeper until you bottomed down.

pausing for a bit, you couldn’t help but lean in and whine against his clothed shoulder with how his cock’s filling you deliciously.

he has other plans though, releasing a deep groan after you unconsciously clenched around him. he starts fucking up to you, pouring all that adrenaline rush coursing through his bloodstream.

a loud moan escapes you when he finds that soft spot, causing you to pull back and again note the cocky smirk emerging on his handsome face.

“yoongi..fuck”

“shhhh”

he silences you with a finger on his puckered lips, hips bucking up to you faster while he repeatedly hits that spongy spot again.

you struggle but you wanna be good for him so you close your eyes and force yourself to keep your moans in. it results in you gasping instead, small whimpers still escaping you with how magnified everything feels.

“you listen really well baby” amusement laces Yoongi’s tone, eliciting deep moans after when you clamp around him with the praise. his groans spur you to ride him faster but you’re starting to feel the burn on your legs.

he must’ve felt you slowing down cause you found him grinning once you reopened your eyes. gritting your teeth, you dig your nails into Yoongi’s clothed shoulders and call his name in a whimper, biting your lip to hold back your release but his praise makes you crumble.

"yeah? come on __" he gauges you, kissing you at once to swallow the moans that you couldn’t keep in once you reach your peak.

he slows down his pace, letting you ride your own high as his mouth peppers your jaw then later your neck with kisses. his hands continue to caress your naked body until they reach down on your ass.

you let out a surprised yelp when he squeezes them hard, causing you to grip his damp hair once he starts fucking up to you again.

calling your name with a deep groan, you whimper by his ear in response as he chases his release. he’s relentless with his fucking, groping your ass nonstop until you feel him explode in the condom.

you do miss it when he fills you up but you both can’t risk anything while he’s still on tour.

“shit..” he chuckles after releasing you, pushing his hair back with a satisfied look on his face but it shortly disappears when he notices the small tears in your eyes.

“was i too rough?” he worries but you shake your head.

“you know i love it” you reply with a quick peck to his now perplexed face. he doesn’t say anything, waiting for you to continue.

“i just got emotional..you know”

a small smile of relief breaks into Yoongi’s face, stroking your naked back while you’re both coming down from your highs.

“i’m glad you’re here” he whispers, kissing your forehead. you don’t fucking know why you're suddenly emotional but it could be because of oxytocin flowing through you right now.

“the seesaw acoustic made me cry” you sniff, nuzzling Yoongi's clothed chest that’s a bit damp now, mixed with sweat and your tears but neither of you mind it.

“why? the lyrics still?”

he did remember you crying after hearing it for the first time years ago, the lyrics being the sole reason of it.

“it’s just.. i don’t know, it reminds me of when you guys were touring before” you admit, melancholy in your voice while you reminisce watching his solo performance during their last world tour as a group.

“thank you” he pauses, looking away from you. “for staying with us after all these years”. he takes your hand and plays with it as he says those words.

you adore this side of Yoongi and now you feel bad for doubting him earlier. meeting them years ago and staying this entire time meant a lot of hardships that you went through together with the rest of his members.

“i miss all of you together” you give Yoongi a quick peck on his heated cheeks before giggling, all the sadness gone at the sight of him blushing. he sits up right away and grabs your face to do the same on your lips before lifting your body off of him.

“you see each of them all the time more than i do, i’m jealous”

he gets up, pulling off the used rubber before picking up your clothes that he threw around earlier. he emerges in front of you after, wet wipes in his hand as he parts your sore legs.

“who knows, maybe me and Jimin will drop by”

he stops, letting out a snort and you raise a brow at him, mind suddenly alert to the possibility.

“he’s coming right?”

“idk babe” he’s got that teasing smile and you wanna cry.

“yoonggiiiii..”

“is this why you came here?”

“no”

you’re back to sulking because the boys won’t tell you anything either. it’s something they’ve all kept a secret cause even Jimin won’t budge earlier when you tried to get the answer from him during pillow talk.

however, Yoongi surprises you amidst your sulking when his head’s suddenly between your legs, licking up a stripe of your swollen folds, causing you to whine at the sensitivity.

he knows you’re tired so he stops your hand from grabbing his damp hair.

“later” he mutters, licking his glistened lips as he wipes your pussy.

you didn’t reply, still lying down on the couch while trying to put your bra, panties and leggings back on. getting up would be impossible so you wanna stay on the couch for a bit to cool down.

“i wanna surprise everyone okay? and you’re always on stan twitter”

he gives up, grinning at you with that adorable gummy smile before grabbing another glass of whiskey on the table.

then instead of wearing it back, you throw your merch shirt at him.

“YOU GET DEETS BECAUSE OF ME” you yell, earning a deep chuckle from Yoongi.

then he pulls out his phone and takes a picture of you, sending it to your group chat with a thumbs up caption. the others surprisingly replied immediately, with Jimin responding with a wink emoji.

oh they will pay for this.

e/n: it's been a long time lmao how are y'all? btw i wrote this during those two days and haven't opened it in almost a year now so 😂

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boyswillbebuggsorsomething · 4 months ago

Text

If I Saw Him, I’d Still Kiss Him - Pt. 2

Spencer Reid x M!Reader

Summary: After you and Spencer reunited, you started becoming close again, however a bad night out led to you getting closer much faster than you thought.

Warnings: Vaguely inspired by If I Saw Him, I’d Still Kiss Him by McCafferty but specifically the last verse, cursing, drinking/alcohol consumption, R needs healthier coping mechanisms, R is drunk, drunk person written by someone who does not drink and only has experience with angry drunks and people who turn into a bad folk band while drunk, allusions to casual sex/hooking up, mentions of fighting/violence and subsequent injuries, no physical descriptions for R other than having hair and having had previously broken his nose, R & Spencer’s past is somewhat inspired by Trees & Trees II by McCafferty (but that isn’t really expanded upon in this, it will be later though), probably ooc, so many commas, NOT PROOFREAD OR EDITED

A/N: Y’all, R is kind of just bordering on being a functioning alcoholic at this point, he really needs better coping mechanisms, however it will be explained why he is the way he is soon, and he will get better. Also, I’m sorry if this was inconsistent, it was written over the span of multiple days with very little re-reading as I have been busy with art stuff and finals. Thank you so much for all the support you gave me on the first part, I’m glad y’all liked it! The ending kinda sucks but most of it I like, I'm sorry it took so long to release. Thank you all so much for reading!

Word Count: 6093

Mornings with Spencer had become by far your favourite thing in recent weeks.

Ever since you two had reunited, you had started seeing each other more and more. It started as just coffee once to catch up, simple really. You told him about all the places you’ve lived in since he left Nevada, pointedly excluding the exact reason behind why you moved around so much. You’d tell him soon. You told him about what brought you to Virginia, a job offer writing as a proper journalist, the best paying job you’d had in a long time. He told you about the years leading up to his position at the BAU, the years spent at school, the academy, all that good stuff. He also told you about his team, the ones you saw only briefly that night at the bar, his second family. You learned quite a lot about them, and despite having never met them, you had already started picking favourites, but you wouldn’t admit that to him.

One coffee became two. Two became three became five, until every day that he wasn’t on a case you got coffee at the little shop that was the perfect distance between his apartment and his office, even though it was a little out of the way for you. He always got his coffee with too much sugar, sweeter than you’d ever seen anyone else take it, and you got tea. You never could get into coffee the way everyone else did, you always thought it tasted burnt.

Sometimes, when Spencer wasn’t paying attention, you’d study his features in greater detail. The way his almond hair would curl just a bit at the ends, showing its natural texture the slightest amount. It would forever confuse you why he chose to straighten his hair when you knew exactly how lovely it would look natural. The way his mouth flattened out when he smiled, and his eyes twinkled with the most gorgeous spark you had ever gotten the chance to see. The way he spoke with his hands, and fidgeted with them endlessly. You had especially grown to love the way his face grew pink when you complimented him. You hadn’t intended to fluster him so much when you told him how pretty was, but he hadn’t experienced your affinity for compliments in a decade, so as a result you got the most beautiful smile and a lovely, bashful “Really? Thank you.” in response. After that, you’d taken to complimenting him more often, just to see that glimmer in his eyes, like a puppy who’d been called a good boy for the first time. He still wrinkled his nose when he smelled cigarettes on you, despite his best efforts to hide it, and it was so pitiful at times that you would let him lecture you on the hazards of smoking. You liked listening to him talk anyways, even if it was a mind numbing monologue about how you were killing yourself. Usually it wasn’t though. Usually it was about a case or a book or a documentary or Dr. Who, which he still hadn’t convinced you to watch yet.

Today was no different. You were sat across from each other at the same table you always sat at, you and Spencer had both sworn off all unnecessary change in this routine. His large hands were wrapped around the mug, steam emanating from it and filling the air with the sweet scent of his coffee. You had an herbal tea clasped in your hands, hoping desperately its calming benefits would help you with the stress of the past week.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asked after you had yawned for the third time during the conversation you were having about Sherlock Holmes, as you had recently picked up a full collection of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s works, much to his elation.

“Yeah, sorry. Work’s just been a lot lately, y’know?” You chuckled slightly, a bit self pityingly, and you mentally kicked yourself for it. Spencer, as much as you had grown to love him all over again, was still a profiler, and had this horrible habit of profiling you without realising, and he had plenty to say about the way you laughed at yourself anytime you felt anything at all.

“I understand, I’m sorry,” his brows furrowed the slightest bit and there was genuine concern behind the statement.

“Nah, you don’t need to feel bad or anything. I knew what I was getting into, and honestly it’s not that bad. I mean, you hunt down serial killers for fuck’s sake, writing an annoying article is nothing. Just exhausting.”

“Exhaustion, especially exhaustion caused by work induced stress actually has a lot of adverse health effects, like migraines, worsening social abilities, and can even affect other aspects of your life, including productivity, so actually your work being stressful and exhausting can be making your work significantly harder which in turn makes it more stressful and exhausting, which really just gets you stuck in a loop of burn out that is incredibly hard to get out of.”

“Thanks, Spencer. You really do know everything, huh?” You smiled, shaking your head in response to his encyclopedic knowledge you know for a fact he was simplifying for you.

“Thank you?” He tilted his head slightly, and you couldn’t help but laugh. He really was like a puppy sometimes. It was sweet though. And you were glad he learned to take your teasing as compliments again. The first few times you had gone to the coffee shop, he had been horribly apologetic about whatever you ended up teasing him for and it made you feel utterly horrendous to have made him feel bad over something so sweet.

You opened your mouth to respond before the shrill ring of his phone began, interrupting your lovely conversation.

“Hotch?” You asked as he picked up the call, earning a sympathetic, tight lipped smile and a nod in response.

And with that, your daily meet up was ended. Spencer gathered his things, apologising profusely for having to leave despite your constant assurances that you didn’t care, his job was more important than coffee.

Sometimes you wished you were a better liar.

…………………

On most cases in recent weeks, you’d call or text Spencer daily, making sure he was okay and providing levity to the grim situations. However, the night he’d gotten back, he hadn’t gotten a single message from you, let alone the usual call where you demanded he told you exactly what happened to him so you could ensure he wasn’t injured or dead. You’d only been in contact now for a couple months, eight weeks or so, he couldn’t expect you to constantly be in contact with him, but routine was important to you both, always had been, and it felt strange that you wouldn’t at least text him when he landed. Something felt wrong and he was getting worried.

Morgan noticed first, as Spencer’s brow furrowed and he drummed his finger against his thigh. He rested his large hand, warm and comforting on Spencer’s shoulder.

“Hey, pretty boy, you okay?” The warm tones of Morgan’s voice jolted him out of his thoughts.

“I am. Just worried about a friend. I think something might’ve happened? I don’t know though. He usually calls or texts when the cases are over, and I haven’t heard from him since yesterday morning.”

“I’m sure your friend is fine. He’s a grown man, he can take care of himself, Reid.”

Spencer nodded, trying to believe Morgan, but something was eating away at the back of his mind.

Could you really?

He’d met you for the first time in a decade when you were trying to get drunk enough you couldn’t think. You seemingly had no other friends in the state other than him, save for coworkers you never put in the effort to see unless you had to. You smoked until you were wheezing daily, and refused to even try to quit. In all the time he’s seen you, he hadn’t seen you drink water once, just tea, alcohol, and the occasional energy drink. You really weren’t the greatest at self preservation. Never had been. He doubted you ever would be.

Just as he was getting stuck in his head, his phone rang, and much to his delight it was your number. His face must have lit up, because Morgan grinned at him.

“See, kid? Probably just got wrapped up with his own job or something. You worry too much.”

Spencer agreed, until he actually picked up the phone, “Hello?”

“Hey, Spence,” you slurred on the other line.

Something was clearly wrong. He was vaguely aware of Morgan’s face dropping, his brow creasing, but his focus was on your call.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’, nothin’, don’t worry. I’m okay. ‘M okay. Sorry for callin’ you like this” you laughed slightly, but it was bitter and hollow.

“You’re not okay, you’re slurring your words, and you sound completely out of it. Have you been drinking?” Spencer’s voice was stern, there was kindness beneath it, but his worry and annoyance was equally clear.

“Jus’ a li’l bit, Spence. Not- I’m okay.”

“Stop,” he interrupted, voice softening, “Please.”

You simply hummed in response.

“Where are you?”

“Bar.”

“Obviously. What bar?”

“Uh, the one I saw you at. Tha’ one.”

“O’Keefe’s?”

“Mhm. Can you pick me up?”

God, you sounded pitiful. He regretted having taken the subway when he had gone to work, before the flight. You’d mentioned offhandedly once that the subway made you sick sometimes, and he really did not want to risk that with your inebriated state.

“I don’t have my car with me,” Spencer murmured somewhat apologetically, even though he had no hand in your poor choices to get this drunk.

“Oh.”

At that horrible, broken tone your voice possessed, he looked to Morgan, holding the phone away from his ear for a moment.

“What is it, kid?”

“Would you be able to pick my friend up from O’Keefe’s? I don’t- I don’t know why he’s there or why he’s so drunk, but I know he can’t stay there. He’s really bad at not getting himself in bad situations. Or even just bring me to find him? It’s alright if you can’t, I understand it’s weird to pick up a drunk guy you've never met-”

“Hey,” Morgan cut him off, smiling reassuringly, “I can definitely do that, where am I bringing him?”

“I don’t know his address, just bring us both to my apartment?”

“Of course,” He smiled before continuing, “Hey, and I get to meet the mystery man that’s somehow gotten Spencer Reid to willingly use technology everyday, who wouldn’t want that?”

Spencer offered him a small, tight lipped smile, quietly telling you he was coming to get you and hanging up before they made their way to the elevator and subsequently to Morgan’s car. The drive was mostly silent, Spencer’s mind running a mile a minute as he tried to figure out why the hell you would do this when you couldn’t even guarantee you’d have a way back home. His hands moved in tandem with his mind. Wringing and tapping. He wished he could somehow drive to you while also being up and moving.

When they pulled up outside of O’Keefe’s, Spencer practically jumped out of the car to go to you. You were crouched in the spot you had stood next to him that first night, your head in your hands and clearly worse for wear. He jogged over to you, crouching down and placing his hands on your shoulders, jolting you enough that you looked up at him. Your eyes were glassy and half lidded as you looked up at him, a drunken haze softening your expression. Most jarringly, however, your lower lip was split and a trail of dried blood was smudged across your upper lip. You smiled up at him, sighing slightly.

“Hey, Spencer, you came.”

“Of course I did, Wha- what happened?”

“Got in a little fight, ‘m okay,” You slurred in response, blinking up at him.

“C’mon,” He muttered, hoisting you up, making you slump against him a bit, “I’m not going to make you explain all this right now, not when you’re this drunk, but we are going to get you home, and cleaned up.”

You hummed in response, stumbling slightly along with him over to Morgan’s car. He helped you in, resulting in a copious amount of thanks from your end, which made Spencer flush slightly in embarrassment. He then slid into the seat beside you in the back, rather than in the passenger seat where he had sat on the way over, watching you through the corner of his eye.

“What the hell happened to him, kid?” Morgan looked bewildered, concern etched into every groove of his face.

“I don’t.. Know. He said it was a fight, I don’t want to interrogate him while he’s drunk,” Spencer groaned, scrubbing his hand over his face, watching your slumped form in the other seat.

“Well, he seems great already,” The somewhat concerned sarcasm was practically dripping from Morgan's words as he adjusted his hands on the wheel and began to drive off.

“He’s usually not like this, I think- I don’t know why he is tonight,” Spencer’s eyes were trained on you, a slender hand resting on your knee comfortingly.

“Y’know, I can hear you,” You murmured in a sing-song voice, glancing up at Spencer and laughing that same hollow laugh.

“Sorry-”

“What’s your friend's name? You didn’ tell me. I wanna thank him.”

“His name is Derek Morgan, he’s one of the members of my team. I told you about him before,” Spencer explained calmly.

“Derek’s a stupid fuckin’ name,” You muttered quietly, earning a bemused scoff from Morgan, continuing in a louder voice, “Thank you for driving me home, Morgan. I ain’t calling you Derek.”

“No problem,” He laughed, nodding when you introduced yourself, slurring your words as you did so.

The conversation lulled, and your eyes drooped closed, your head resting against the window. Despite your drunken state, you found your thoughts surprisingly clear, muddled, but clear enough to make sense of. Decidedly, this was the worse outcome than not being able to make sense of anything at all. You didn’t like this in between state. The one where your thoughts were jumbled and loud and screaming for attention and not one could do anything to make you feel better. You wanted to cry and laugh and scream and break something all at once, but you wouldn’t. You had enough of your wits about you to not trash a stranger's car, or fight with your only actual friend, or pull any of that shit no matter how appealing it seemed in the moment. You were different now, better.

Eventually Morgan pulled up in front of Spencer’s apartment, earning a slew of thanks from both Spencer and yourself as he helped you out of the car. You leaned heavily against Spencer as he guided you into his building, the lanky man keeping you as steady as he could while you were seemingly dead set on just falling face first on the ground.

“C’mon,” he murmured calmly, “we’re almost there. You cannot just lay in the middle of a hallway.”

“You are not the man I thought I’d be spending my night with,” you hummed, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, “Not mad though.”

“What?”

His confusion earned a small laugh from you as he continued to drag you through the halls of the building until stopping in front of his door. You stepped away briefly, leaning against the wall so he could unlock the door.

“Thank you, Spencer,” you hummed in a sing-song voice as he guided you into his apartment.

“Of course,” he sighed, “I’m gonna get you some water and then a first aid kit, okay?”

“You don’t need to, ‘m okay,” you grumbled, kicking off your shoes.

“You’re injured, for one, and it’s actually very important to drink water after getting this drunk, it helps prevent any dehydration and helps your body rid itself of toxins. Both of which are beneficial to your health and can lessen your hangover symptoms tomorrow,” Spencer explained as he sat you down on his couch and stepped into his kitchen.

“You’re too nice to me. I’m just fine,” you sighed deeply, slumping against his couch.

“Getting drunk and fighting someone while drunk with no way home is very different from being fine,” he stated sternly, a touch of confusion colouring his tone at your insistence, as he filled a glass with water and brought it over to you.

“I did have a way home at first,” you took the water, not wanting to fight him on this when his eyes were so wide with worry.

“What do you mean ‘at first’?”

“He was drinking just as much as me, I wasn’t gonna get in a car with a drunk driver. I might not be a genius, but I ain’t that stupid,” you explained, drinking down the water steadily, “You’ve got good water,” you added absentmindedly.

“Thank you?” He couldn't quite tell what the appropriate reaction to the complement(?) was, so he just went back to the kitchen to grab his first aid kit out from under the sink, bringing it back over “But who were you going to go home with, I thought you didn’t know anyone here? Not well, at least,” Spencer sat beside you, tilting his head in that puppy-like way.

“Mm-mm. Didn’t know him.”

He took a second to understand, momentarily confused at why anyone would be going around with someone they barely know, the amount of cases that started that way-

Then it clicked.

“Oh.”

You nodded, sipping at the water more gingerly now.

“I’m very glad you called me then. A random guy is definitely not worth a major car accident- Actually, I doubt any guy is worth getting in a car with a drunk driver with the mortality rates and amount of crashes caused by them,” Spencer smiled reassuringly, setting his hand on your knee comfortingly before he opened up the first aid kit to clean up your split lip and wipe away all the dried blood.

He took out one of those alcohol swabs and asked you gently to turn your head towards him so he could access your face better. Spencer took his time as he cleaned away the blood and grime from your face, holding your jaw softly in a way that made your breath hitch ever so slightly. His touch had this wonderful, calming quality that was so distinctly Spencer that you could recognise it in any situation at any time in any place. As he finished, he offered you a sweet little smile you felt obligated to return, regardless of your state.

“Thanks for getting me,” You murmured softly as he packed up the kit and set it aside.

“You’ve already thanked me enough times, you’re my friend, I wasn’t going to let you stay in a dangerous situation like that for any reason at all.”

“Too nice to me,” you decided, setting the glass down and shifting to lean against him, “You’re warm.”

“Thank you? You confuse me sometimes.”

“Good.”

He smiled warmly and hesitantly moved his hand to rest on your shoulder, holding you gently to his side. You reacted well, curling up against him, resting against him how you did years ago on days where you just couldn’t bring yourself to sleep the night before. It was a comfort you hadn’t realised you missed so much in your time apart. You sat there for a bit, your eyelids heavy as he gently rubbed your arm. Your brain had quieted down in Spencer’s hold, his own mind running a mile a minute as he tried to come up with a reason for you to be this drunk on a random day of the week, other than your complete lack of care for yourself and your safety. His apartment had an environment that felt foreign to you, a warm blanket enveloping your whole being and permeating your soul. The walls were lined with books, additional texts stacked on every surface imaginable and strewn around regardless of where they were, as though he had placed them down without thinking as soon as they were finished and moved on to another book. Even the air itself had an electricity that made everything seem warmer, not really temperature wise, but warm like the feeling in your chest when you were with someone you loved, that kind of fuzzy warmth. You liked his apartment, it felt like a proper home.

“You should get some sleep,” Spencer murmured softly, shifting a bit to let you lay down.

You frowned slightly, hesitating before mumbling, “You should stay out here with me. I don’t like sleeping by myself. And I’m really comfortable on you.”

Spencer paused only briefly before relaxing again, “Okay, but you need to let me get up so I can change out of my work clothes.” And to move you to not the couch.

You groaned dramatically before sitting back up and letting him go to his room to change. When he exited the room, rather than sitting down with you again, he grabbed your hand and brought you with him to his room, letting you sit down on his bed.

“As much as you seemed to like the couch, I think my bed is probably a lot more comfortable and you won’t have to deal with any discomfort from sleeping on a couch when you wake up tomorrow,” he explained, his lips pulling into that kind, tight lipped smile that he tended to get when he was in some way nervous about what he’s said or done.

You hummed, flopping over onto his bed and yawning slightly, “Thank you.”

As he slipped into the bed beside you, you relaxed against him once more. If it was anyone else, you would have felt a strange sleeping in their bed entirely platonically, but with Spencer you simply felt like you did as a child, back when you’d fall asleep against his shoulder during class or recess. Had you been any less inebriated, or even put more than two seconds of thought into it, you also would have realised that Spencer, the most germ averse person you’d ever met, was letting you sleep in his bed in the clothes you had been sitting on the street in after drinking your mind away, and letting you touch him while doing it. But in the moment, you were only focused on the comfort of his slender hands holding you, the soft sheets he had draped over you both, and the enveloping darkness surrounding you once the light was clicked off.

…

Spencer held you as you slept for a long time, reminded vividly of your shared past as he did so. It was all so painfully familiar he almost didn’t care about the stench of alcohol and cigarettes that clung to your hair and clothes.

Almost.

But he could hardly care, not when you looked so peaceful with him, not when you had asked him so sweetly to stay with you. So instead he simply observed you as though if he didn’t memorise each detail of your sleeping face it would be gone from his mind as soon as he looked away. Logically he knew that couldn’t happen, not with an eidetic memory like his, but he still wanted to keep all the ways your face had changed and all the little ways it stayed the same ingrained in his brain. He gently traced the slope of your nose, which, while similar, was a bit out of place as though it had once been broken. His pale fingers moved over your cheekbones which sat the same, if not more defined with age. Spencer continued to deftly trace each and every feature, lingering where he noticed small differences he wanted to commit to memory, like the lines beneath your eyes that had been exacerbated by years of poor sleep, or the small valley between your brows where your eyebrows spent so much time furrowed together.

For once though, in the time you’ve been together, you looked peaceful. Truly peaceful. Your features softened with sleep and the comfort you had so clearly been denied. In all your efforts to lie and seem put together, you could never fool him. Not even because he was a profiler, though that did play a part, he just remembered your tells from your youth, all the little behaviours he knew like he knew his own mind. It was clear the years had not been kind to you, even if your self destructive habits hadn’t already tipped that off to him. There was a level of hurt behind your eyes that couldn’t be kept back with the walls you so carefully built up, and Spencer knew you’d need to confront it before you broke. He just needed to know how.

However, that was for another night. Now, all he was to do was hold you close and keep you safe.

…………………

Unsurprisingly, you woke up feeling like absolute shit. Your head felt like it was being split in two, and the obnoxious city sounds and the incredibly strong scent of coffee did very little to help with that. As you reluctantly opened your eyes to the morning light, you noticed the glass of water and aspirin set aside for you on the cluttered bedside table. It took a moment, but as you glanced around the cozy, organized chaos of the room, you became vaguely aware that Spencer had taken you home from the bar. Sitting up with a groan of discontent, you took the aspirin and water and swallowed it down quickly before standing up from the bed. You ignored the swirling way your head spun as you made your way out of the bedroom with the grace of a drugged rhino. Which then alerted Spencer to the fact you were no longer passed out in his bed.

“Oh!” He exclaimed with far too much energy so early, as he noticed you emerging from the room, “You’re up.”

“Mhm,” you grumbled, voice hoarse with sleep and lingering discomfort, “Thanks for the aspirin. And the water. And the bed. Y’know what? Just- Thank you, Spencer.”

“You’re welcome, of course, I definitely didn’t want you just dealing with a hangover the way you seem to deal with most things. Y’know, without any help or much of any support at all really,” He explained, the pace of his words a bit too quick as he gestured vaguely with his hands.

You scoffed a bit before scrubbing your hand over your face and offering him a small smile, which he returned, albeit a bit awkwardly.

“I can get going now, if you want. I don’t really know what time it is, but you probably have work and I feel like kind of a dick invading like this and making you do all this shit for me. Besides, it’s probably smart for me to get back home, I need to water my plants and probably work on- I dunno, something, I probably have work to do that I can’t think of right now,” You huffed a small, self deprecating laugh.

“Well, if you want to go home, you can definitely leave, I won’t stop you, but I was actually wanting to talk to you about what happened last night, if you would be willing to?” He stammered, that endearing nervousness radiating off him in waves.

For a moment, you debated just up and leaving. You most definitely weren’t looking to delve into why you were getting drunk off your ass on a random night. Or getting into fights. Or going home with random guys just to not be alone. None of that seemed appealing, not while in full tip-top health, and definitely not while hungover. However, Spencer looked so hopeful and so genuinely worried that it tugged at your heartstrings just enough to keep you there. Besides, maybe it would be nice to be vulnerable with someone, and if it had to be anyone, Spencer was the person for that. He was the only person you really had right now. And you really weren’t looking to push him away again.

So you nodded instead, earning a hopeful smile from Spencer.

“I made you some tea,” He offered you a mug, “It’s the closest to what you get at the coffee shop, but I didn’t have the exact same kind of tea.”

“Thank you,” You told him genuinely as you took the mug, the comforting warmth enveloping your hands.

Grabbing his own coffee, Spencer brought you to his couch, setting out coasters for when and if you sat your mug down. Settling into the spot you sat mere hours before, you stared across at his kind brown eyes as he studied you intently. He had on a front of calm, however it was very clearly a front, as his fingers tapped at his mug incessantly.

“Why were you at O’Keefe’s last night?: He asked, trying desperately to not sound like he was interrogating you.

“Getting drunk, I think we went over that last night?”

“Well, yes, obviously,” He chuckled nervously, “But I meant why? I mean, when we first saw each other again you were also getting drunk but that was due to stress from your job, which you told me twice after the fact. So why were you drinking last night?”

“I was, uh, trying to forget some shit.” You sipped your tea gingerly, allowing the hot liquid to calm your nerves and soothe the ache in your head.

“But what? You don’t really seem like the type to drink daily, not that you can always tell, but you don’t show the signs of someone who gets blackout drunk constantly,” Spencer explained.

“I don’t. I just-” You sigh, hesitant to explain, “When I do drink, which is like, once every month or maybe every three or four weeks, I get really drunk. I save it to cash it all out on one night, y’know?”

“Okay,” He nodded.

“Look,” You started after a deep gulp of tea, trying to lay things out as concisely and vaguely as possible, “Yesterday was the anniversary of when I officially left Vegas, and Nevada as a whole, and I haven’t been back since. It doesn’t bring back great memories that I do not want to get into, so I wanted to drink and have a good night with someone and not fall asleep alone and cold because I just really fucking hate that. So I drank, and I was gonna go home with a guy until he started drinking a lot and I was like, hell no, and didn’t.”

Spencer nodded kindly, the most understanding look in his eyes despite the furrow in his brow.

“Why did you get into a fight?”

“Fuck, is this an interrogation?” You muttered without thinking, sipping the tea in an attempt to chase away the hangover migraine that the constant questions were only aggravating.

“What? No, no, of course not, I just want to understand, I don’t want you getting yourself into dangerous situations that you don’t need to be in. And a lot of cases can start a lot like someone young and alone who is inebriated who gets approached by someone charismatic and appealing, and I would very much prefer if you stayed safe and did not end up as a photo in an investigation,” Spencer explained in one breath, setting down his coffee as to not jostle it as his hands moved, “You don’t need to keep telling me, I’m sorry if I was prying too much, it was just extremely worrying for you to call me like that and then to see you drunk and bloody without explanation.”

You sighed, nodding in understanding. Spencer would never intentionally try to piss you off or hurt you in any way, he just worried and wasn’t great at expressing his emotions. He always had been like this.

“No, no, I’m sorry. Shouldn’t’ve snapped. You’ve been way too nice already, I’m sorry,” Your voice was little more than a grumble, but you were genuine as you possibly could be, “I barely remember what started the fight, it started verbally, y’know? And when I wanna be mean I can be a fucking dickhead, so I was yelling at some guy for probably no good reason, I dunno, so he punched me. I hit back, and y’know, fight ensues,” you shrugged, sipping your tea, your fingers itching to grab a cigarette, but no matter how nice it could be, you would never smoke around Spencer when you knew how much he hated it.

“Nothing hurts, right? Or, well, more than it should? I know a split lip can’t be pleasant while talking, but other than that, you’re not in pain?” He asked tentatively, setting his hand between you with seemingly little thought.

You set your hand atop his gently, managing a tight lipped smile as a full one would most definitely make the split lip sting terribly, “I’m okay Spencer, thank you for helping. Just hungover as hell and suffering the consequences of my actions,” You chuckled self deprecatingly, setting down your mostly empty mug.

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. The water and aspirin helped a lot, so did the tea. I think my best choice is probably to just sleep it off as best I can in a dark room with no other input, y’know?”

Spencer practically beamed at your thanks, and your assurance you were feeling alright, “I understand,” He nodded, “As long as you stay properly hydrated, oh and eat, that’s probably smart,” He added, “It will help a lot.”

“Yeah, this definitely ain’t my first rodeo. You’re sweet, though.”

“I took the day off so you can stay as long as you like. You don’t need to, but getting punched in the face and repeatedly hit cannot have positive effects while paired with a hangover, and I think it might benefit you to not get onto a crowded subway or walk around in a busy street when all of that stimuli will just seem so much worse.”

“I don’t wanna overstep or stay too long. I’m not great at telling when I’m not wanted around,” You explained tensely.

“Then it’s great that I’m too blunt for my own good. If you get to be too much for whatever reason, I’ll let you know,” He smiled, and damn him because that smile was just bordering on teasing to the point that you caught it and understood his schemes to be able to make sure you didn’t get yourself killed or hurt or whatever the hell if you left.

And so you stayed.

…

The day was peaceful and soft and caring and all the good things you wouldn’t accept on most occasions. Spencer let you stay in his room with the curtains pulled and the lights turned out as he kept the rest of the house silent, save for the occasional sounds of pages flipping or footsteps as he went about his day reading and checking in on you. As suspected, you slept most of the day away, only waking when Spencer brought you water, which he was correct that you didn’t drink enough of, and it helped greatly. It was domestic bliss with a man you had known in what felt like an entirely separate life, and yet it felt natural as breathing in practice.

When night fell, he inevitably returned you home, leaving you with a tight but hesitant hug and a promise that you would see each other again soon. As soon as you set foot in your dreary apartment, life only represented by the succulents and plants you forced yourself to care for, you regretted leaving the cozy domesticity of Spencer’s apartment. Where yours was cold, decorated only with necessities and plants, his books and posters and weird art made his home truly feel like a home, rather than a living space.

As you laid in bed, finally having showered and changed into fresh clothes, you found yourself staring at the polaroids hung beside your bed, tracing the details of your younger self’s face with your eyes, and craving desperately the comforting touch of the boy who accompanied you in those photos, who had cared for you for the past few days.

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