#Maybe I’ll come back and finish it later

[arachnixe]

I might've gotten a bit carried away with this one...

The Sister-in-Law

As soon as I heard them coming, I put a kettle on the fire. The crows always let me know when I have visitors, and now they call out to announce I must entertain houseguests again. Three short caws in rapid succession, followed by a longer fourth—two people, then. No time to dawdle, but enough time to avoid haste, I clear the table of clutter, sorting my work into nearby shelves, closing my book and setting it aside for later, and… oh no, my half-finished spinning still rests on the seat of a chair. I huff in annoyance at my own laziness, sweeping an arm to slide spindle and forgotten tangle into a basket, discreetly shoving the whole mess by foot into the far corner of my cottage.

Three dainty raps at the door inform me that my window to tidy is at its end. Good enough, good enough. The table is clear, and fully three chairs are usable.

“Come on in then,” I call toward the door. “Don’t be afraid; come in!”

With a nasty squeal of hinges that really must be oiled again—maybe I’ll remember to take care of that after these two leave—the door opens just enough to catch a glimpse of my little sister’s face.

“Marina? God’s rotten t—” I bite my tongue. Shouldn’t swear in front of her, of all people. “Is something wrong? You’re not supposed to— I mean, isn’t there supposed to be—?”

Before I can choke out a coherent question, the door finishes its arc, showing me a face I’ve never seen before. Long, dark hair falls straight down, framing a head of delicate, almost elfin beauty. The smile gracing the stranger’s bloodless lips does not touch eyes of pitch that smolder like an inferno barely kept in check by will alone. Atop her head rests a carmine crown forged of no metal known to mortal smith.

Yes, my sister’s companion looks human enough, but it would take a fool not to see that this woman is not what she appears to be. I also cannot help but mark the conspicuous absence of those original companions with whom she left this place.

“Plum!” My sister greets me with enthusiasm bordering on surprise. “Is it really you? No, nothing’s wrong, hey, quit fussing!” She pulls her head away from my grip after I make sure her eyes look normal enough. No sign of blanching fever, at least. “It must be you, only you would—stop that!” I grip her wrist until I satisfy myself that her heart rate is perfectly normal for someone becoming actively annoyed at me, and then I release her. “Happy now?”

“No,” I huff. “I’m never happy. But I’m more pleased to see you return than I was to see you go, which I’ll call good enough.” I back away from the door again and wave them inside. “Come have a seat, leave your boots and cloaks and swords and masks and whatnot at the door, and I’ll brew some tea for us while you tell me what in the seven hells is going on with you. And introduce me to your friend!”

I set about searching for the tea, swearing under my breath as I remember it had been right here on the table, and I’d tidied it away with the dried herbs. Now where were the spare teacups? Ugh. It’s a good thing all that traveling gear takes forever to unstrap and unlace, gives me plenty of time to trawl through my own clutter. By the time they sit down, I manage to cobble together a downright competent tea set, brewing in progress.

“So, uh, Plum… You actually live at Agathea’s old house these days?”

“My house now.” I wave a hand to indicate the slouching building and all its chaotic piles as my domain. “And don’t change the subject. Who’s your friend?”

“Plum, this is Zee. Zee, this is my sister. We’re, ah, getting married… and…” She trails off without finishing. I blink impatiently at her, waiting for the rest.

“And…?” I raise an eyebrow, waiting for Marina to stop stammering and get to the point. What is wrong with her? She was all bluster and confidence last I saw her, and now she’s acting like I’m the greatest challenge she’s had to face.

“I need your blessing,” she finishes at last, punctuating the request with the tiniest cringe.

“My what.”

“Because mom and dad are dead, and you’re my only family left, and…”

“My blessing? What is this—? Actually, no. Back up.” I jab a finger at Zee. “Do you talk?”

“I do.” Zee’s thin lips barely part, just enough to slip words between them like parchment through the gap under a door.

“Great. Don’t stop now.”

“Plum, don’t…” Marina whines, but I wave her complaint away with a waspish flick of my wrist.

The thing in the shape of a woman turns her palms up toward me. “What words shall I utter for you?”

I snort. “You can start with an apology. This? This whole thing?” I tilt my head to indicate her. “Rude. Terribly rude.”

“She hasn’t even done anything! Why are you acting like this?”

“Masks!” I spit. “I asked you to leave the masks at the door. I would think someone ostensibly trying to win my blessing might choose to let me see you. At the very least!”

The woman calling herself Zee bares her teeth in an expression not much like a smile, countering my demand with a question. “Are you really Marina’s sister?”

My sister hisses through her teeth, but she doesn’t contest the validity of the question. A sigh escapes from me. I was hoping we wouldn’t have to do this, that my various idiosyncrasies sufficed as proof of identity. Alright, you want to address this topic? I’ll address it.

“You think I’m Agathea.” Zee’s impassive expression contrasts Marina’s wincing discomfort, but neither one denies my statement. “Maybe you think she’s conjured an illusion of me to catch you off guard, or maybe you think she, I don’t know, possessed my body as part of some evil scheme for immortality, is that it?”

“I just expected…”

“You expected me to be still living in that shitty hovel within the city walls, of course. Thought you’d pop by, maybe use your fancy Chosen One powers and your Fated Quest wealth to save me from poverty, and I’d be so full of gratitude I’d say something like ‘oh, dear sister, however can I repay you?’ And then you’d hug me tight, just like I did for you when we were small and all alone on the streets, and all we had was each other, and you’d tell me that all you really want is for me to bless your marriage to this lovely woman who helped you help your poor, older sister who was never blessed with divine destiny.”

“It’s not like that!”

“But I wasn’t there. You asked around, probably like you’ve done a hundred times before on one quest or another, who knows, I don’t care. You heard a rumor about someone matching my description here at Agathea’s old cottage, the very place where you once had to save me from her wicked clutches. But oh no!” I clap my hands to my cheeks in mock surprise. “Now none of this is playing out the way you imagined, and you’re hoping that I’m not really Big Sis Plummy because it would be so much easier to handle me if you could just draw that holy blade and put me down. Maybe you could fight another big battle, save your real sister and get back on the Gratitude Route to your happily ever after, hmm?”

Marina’s mouth hangs open in horror, suggesting I got close enough to the truth of what she was thinking. Her lower lip starts trembling, and her eyes well with tears. Oh, hell’s rancid tonsils, I forgot how sensitive she always was to my cynicism. Or maybe she’s just ashamed of thinking those things about me.

An internal timer prods me to pour the tea, and so I stand and serve my guests. I take a moment to breathe and calm myself. I don’t like being jealous or angry with Marina. I grind the sharp edges out of my voice. “No. You know it’s me.”

“Sword’s gone anyway,” my sister mumbles, swallowing to control her quavering.

That stops me in my tracks. “What?!” I scan the heap of traveler’s detritus at the door, and sure enough the only sword there looks perfectly mundane, if well-crafted. “Something went wrong, I knew it. What happened? Is that why the others aren’t with you?”

I chew my lip, concern making me forget my dignity in front of the inhuman stranger. For a moment, I’m just the older sister again, mind racing to cobble together a scheme to get Mari out of trouble, trying to understand the situation so I can fix it all for her. “I thought that big lout of yours was insipid, but he had a talent at acting the part of ablative flesh defense. Did he trip when he should have been in front of you? Or the clever one with all the knives, good head on her shoulders, that one; she should have kept you out of trouble. Or the clown, good for a distraction at least while you swing that sword…”

Marina’s eyes dart to her left, to Zee, looking to the mystery woman to answer while she wets her lips and clears her throat, stalling for time. My eyes narrow. Something strange is happening here.

“How did you come to inherit this estate?” Eyes like lightless pools fix themselves on mine. “An answer for an answer.”

A standoff. My sister’s fiancée versus her older sister. A contest for… what, exactly? A marriage blessing? I sip my tea to stall for time to think and to allow that familiar aroma to coax my muscles into the relaxation of a predator in her own territory, not the tense bundle of nerves that would mark me as prey.

“An answer for an answer is an equal trade,” I allow. “But our exchange at the moment is an uneven one. You’ve entered my home wearing a mask. I have asked you twice now to remove it. I will tell you my story. In exchange, you will remove your mask and tell me your story. That is my first, last, and best offer.” I keep my tone relaxed, but I permit just a touch of anger to color my words at the edges. “You may decline, of course, but doing so closes the door on my blessing forever.”

Silence walls my side of the table from theirs. I don’t bother counting the seconds, choosing instead to sit back and sip my tea. Look, I have all the time in the world out here in the woods. I’m not the one with a mission, a time limit, and a missing relic.

When at last someone speaks, it’s Marina, angry enough to spit fire, shouting, finally sounding like herself again. “You are impossible, Plum! I—!”

But Zee somehow smothers her declaration, interrupting with a breathy rasp.

“I accept your terms,” she says, and with a glance she silences my sister’s objection before her tongue can speak it. “But you will speak truthfully or the deal is forfeit.”

“Truth is easy.” My turn to smile. Finally, we can make progress in this farcical confrontation. “Lies are more work anyway. But come on now, drink your tea. If I try to finish this pot all by myself, I’ll be pissing under the table before you finish keeping your end of the deal.”

Marina huffs in a mirror image of my own mannerisms before sipping from her cup. I can see in the set of her shoulders that the tea helps calm her despite her irritation at me. Zee throws her whole cup back in one shot, and I freshen both while gathering my own thoughts. Where to begin?

“I was here for more than a whole day before you and your comrades-in-arms found me—you know, back then—and Agathea could have done whatever she wanted to me in that time. You know that, right? Scared as you were, scared as I was, she could’ve done whatever she wanted to me that whole time.”

“I thought about that. So why didn’t she?”

“Oh, she did!” I cackle. “She very much did everything she wanted to me. The same thing she did to all the other girls she took.”

My sister’s eyes widen in sudden horror. “Goddess above, Plum, I didn’t know…”

“No, not what you’re thinking,” I hasten to cut that thought off. “Nothing physical. She just told me things. Planted a lot of seeds, the old witch did. Knew they wouldn’t all grow, but planned to keep her eye out for the ones that could. She spoke of the Wheel, the true name of the sin at the heart of creation, the mad inversion of harvest and rot and the wisdom of insanity.”

Even now, I can still smell the old woman’s musty breath as I recall her words. “Cornball witchy shit like that, you know? The other missing girls, they all went crazy from hearing it. Ran off into the woods to be eaten by giant vipers or crushed by lithovores or something.”

I couldn’t help laughing again at the memory. “I just told her she was wasting my time, that she might as well just kill me and spare me the lectures. Oh, Khazik Cyst, I was such a little shit back then.”

Ah, well, so much for sticking to polite language. But Marina can hardly lecture me for swearing when she went and lost her sacred blade. In the grand scheme of things, that must be way more offensive to her goddess, right? I make eye contact with my sister, and sure enough she doesn’t even react to my vulgarity. Huh, I guess some things do change after all.

“You lived because you didn’t find her witchy secrets interesting enough to go mad over?”

“Kinda trivializes her whole deal when you put it that way,” I reply, grinning. “But not far from the truth. Anyway, you know what comes next. You and your friends track us down, challenge her to a fight, she doesn’t leave a corpse, and you whisk me back home. The end. Hero saves the day again. Not that I wasn’t grateful, I mean. I was scared as hell, for all I was smart-mouthing my captor.”

“And then…?”

“Then you had to go. Didn’t need your big sister anymore. You were still a kid like me, but the goddess decided you were all grown up enough to face your destiny.” I heave a sigh. I don’t make eye contact this time. I don’t want to see her pity. “You were gone for six years, Marina.”

“I know,” she says quietly. “I didn’t mean to abandon you, it’s just… the time crystal—“

“Yes, of course, the time crystal.” I snort, my mouth filled with bitterness. “You can hardly be blamed for getting trapped in a time crystal while everything in the world goes to rot and ruin, the king is assassinated, and creepy cults pop up in every town.” Despite the bitterness in my voice, I hope she hears the sincerity in it too. I reach across the table and touch my sister’s hand. “I… really don’t blame you for that. Khazik Cyst, you were just a kid.” The more I think about it, the angrier I get. “You were just a kid, fighting some shit-taint chronomancer for the fate of the world armed with pluck, a sword that glows in the dark, and the power of hells-damned friendship.“

I pound the table with my fist, rattling the teacups. “You know I went searching for you? Threatened a capital librarian until he dug up some old prophecies. There was one about that whole fiasco with the time asshole—may that festering pustule rest in piss—written all fanciful and opaque like they do, but I recognized it immediately. That’s how I knew when you’d show up again and where you’d be.”

“And we weren’t kids anymore. You kept saying that again and again. That we weren’t kids anymore.”

My tea has already gone cold. Too caught up in old memories. I gulp it down and freshen everyone’s cup again, giving myself time to choose my next words carefully.

“I got to live a whole real life in those six years, Marina. You just had those years of your life deleted. I don’t think I can ever forgive your goddess for that.” I take a shuddering breath and press on. “And we had, what, that afternoon and one night at the inn together before cultists tried to assassinate you all? Best I could do was pull off a distraction so you and your friends could escape and go save the world.”

“I’m sorry, Plum.”

“But…?”

“But nothing. I’m sorry.” Naked sincerity on Marina’s face. She doesn’t launch into a speech about her duty to the world, the importance of sacrifice, or any of it. I glance over to Zee, who remains content to watch and listen in silence.

“But you had to save the world, didn’t you?” I gesture out the window. “The sun still looks haunted to me, though, so something must have gone wrong.” Haunted is maybe a too-cheeky way to describe how the great ball of fire hangs in the sky, a bloated, half-lidded eye that barely climbs past the horizon, even at noon. The color is all wrong, too, a festering yellow that tastes like disease when it falls on the tongue.

My sister shrugs. The gesture feels strange coming from her. “Maybe I shouldn’t have,” she answers cryptically. “But the house?”

“Right.” I can wait for her answers. “As I was saying, six years is a long time. I was thinking about a lot of things while you were gone. Thinking about how much I hate your goddess for taking my sister away from me, putting you in danger, all that. Thinking about the ‘sin at the heart of creation,’ and starting to feel like the idea made a lot of sense, actually. Like maybe it wasn’t all garbage.”

I take another sip of tea to steel my nerves for this confession. It’s not like I ever intended to keep the truth from my sister anyway. “I came back here. To Agathea. She offered me a place to stay. She taught me the virtues of herbs, how to mix them to make medicine or poison. She taught me how to listen to animals and make myself known to them. She taught me to speak the words that bind direction, to chain north so that it may not become east, to constrict up such that it may never be down. She taught me everything she is. The Witch of Everblood’s Call must be renewed by youth, you see. There is a time for harvest and a time for rot, and it was time for her to become me.”

“No.” Marina shakes her head in aggressive refusal of my words. “Absolutely not. You’re saying Agathea did steal your body? That you were her even when we escaped the time crystal and saw you again? I don’t believe it! Everything you say… all the ways you say it… you’re Plum. You’re my sister. I don’t know what this is. Trying to scare me away? No. No. I refuse.”

“Good! Refuse!” I bark a laugh. “You know it’s me. Not even I can convince you otherwise. Besides, it’s less like Agathea took my body and more that I took her mind, but there it is. I’m the big scary witch of the woods in truth, in command of the exact same power as Dread Agathea, no different from her except in all the ways that I am me instead.” I turn my best sinister grin across the table and cackle most menacingly. “And now that you’ve drunk my tea I can…” pause for dramatic effect, “brew a new pot, if you’d like!”

Marina gives me a look like she’s already exhausted of my gnollshit, which I find unfair considering how long it’s been since she’s had to indulge my sense of humor. Zee, of all people, laughs. Or at least she produces a sound that’s in the neighborhood of laughter. “I have decided I like your sister,” she says to her fiancée. “I think I shall keep her afterward.”

“Keep me, then.” I raise my teacup, holding on to the last dregs of tea, in a mock toast, feeling more relaxed and playful than I was earlier in the conversation. “But I’m keeping Mari, and she’s keeping me too, one way or another.”

“The deal is struck. Your story, I accept. I bind us through the keeping of my side.”

With each word, Zee shifts, human limbs shifting and twisting as though bereft of internal bones, skin turning thin and transparent, revealing inhuman muscle shot through with veins of putrid yellow. Her torso extends, losing definition and towering from floor to ceiling like a grotesque parody of a tree made of hairless skin. As she shifts, a putrescent odor fills the air nearly making my own eyes water. Muscular tendrils coil around Marina, and to my shock, I see my sister nuzzle one such inhuman limb with affection, utterly captivated as though by an indescribable beauty.

The Zee-thing continues growing, face vanishing into a toothy maw within the main trunk, legs splitting and extending into roots across my floor and weaving a tapestry of fleshy branches across the ceiling. The whole creature throbs in rhythm with an alien heartbeat, each beat spreading this creature’s parasitic embrace a little farther. Before too long, there will be nowhere for me to run.

“Hmm.” I grunt in thought. “Zammora the Unclean was the name of the ancient evil Marina was Chosen to slay, wasn’t it? Begins with a letter ‘Z.’ Weird coincidence, I’m sure.”

“Clever little creature. Full of lore, are you not?” Zee’s voice is even less human than before, slamming me with a sound like a swarm of wasps. “Why do you not fear me?”

“Because you’re in my house,” I answer simply. “My house, my rules.” I point to my sister. “So, is she being mind-controlled or what? Because the smell is a bit intense, even for me, and I’m intimately acquainted with rot, while Marina’s always had kind of a delicate stomach. So tell me the truth. Mind control?”

“She accepted my leash upon her mind willingly, witch. As will you.”

“Don’t count on it.” Running through my options here, and I don’t like what I’m finding. Legendary evil, no legendary sword. But a legendary evil in my house, which is either a sign of ridiculous overconfidence or a regular tactical blunder on her part. “The deal doesn’t count if I don’t get to hear Marina’s unfettered words.”

“I did not agree to that,” the horrid, quivering thing hisses.

“You don’t have to.” I snap my fingers for dramatic effect and snip the connection between my sister’s mind and her destined foe.

Immediately, Marina’s body revolts. She retches and heaves, emptying all the tea in her stomach onto my floor. She staggers, and to my surprise, the tendril holding her close allows her to stumble a couple paces away. I ignore Zee’s nightmarish growling and rush to my sister’s side. “Hey, Mari. It’s okay. You’re safe.”

She isn’t listening to me, though. A panicked gurgle escapes her throat, rising to a scream of horror. “What did you do to my mind? What did you do?“

“Shhh, shhh…” I wrap her in my embrace and feel her arms hold me back. “You’re free now. And Zammora can’t claim your mind again while you’re here. And we’ve got a deal,” I raise my voice to make sure I’m heard by the other thing in the room. “I get to hear the story of what happened with your sword and your friends. She cannot take either of us without violating a witch’s pact, at least for that long. Then we’re gonna let you make the plan, okay, Chosen One? I’ll follow your lead.”

Bloodshot eyes filled with queasy misery meet mine. “The deal. Of course. I’ll tell you everything. Let me… just give me a second.”

I’m more than happy to give Mari as long as she needs. The more I stall, the more time I have to chew on this problem. I look at Zammora, growing into the narrow gaps between my floorboards, pale tendrils reaching, grabbing, anchoring themselves to the wooden beams up above. Yes, “parasite” seems to be an apt classification, but what exactly is the nature of her parasitism?

“Zee came to us in her—urk—human form.” Marina does her best to stifle her reflexive retching. “Grau and Verle were suspicious of her, but Bernie, you know him, trusting to a fault.” She pauses again to take a deep breath and collect herself. “But she was scared. Said some dangerous people were out to kill her. And I don’t like to judge people on appearance. You know that. So I made a promise. I promised to protect her.”

An icy grip takes hold of my heart. I know better than most that a promise from some people is more powerful than words alone. Truth is one of that goddess’s virtues, after all, and her Chosen is necessarily bound to that ideal. From Mari, a promise is an unbreakable vow. That it may have been born of deception hardly matters—gods are always so damn unyielding about their principles.

“I asked Zee why she was being hunted. She told me, hhhh…” Mari’s eyes close. She pauses to take a few deep breaths again. “Told me she’d made an enemy of someone powerful and cruel. She’d been kept in prison for a long time and just recently escaped. She wanted help, and I couldn’t bear to tell her no.”

My sister turns away from me, looking back at the twisted abomination that can no longer pass for the kind of scared and trembling maiden that always tugged at Mari’s heart. I watch her mouth twist into a grimace, fighting nausea, her brow drawn into a knot with the effort of staring down Zammora’s true form. It must be a struggle to even look upon something so incomprehensibly inhuman if one is not a witch like me, well practiced in dredging the very sump of creation.

There is a beauty in rot, in parasitism, that most people struggle to see. All life is essential to life itself, however uncomfortable the feelings they may inspire. Truth be told, I’d have been willing to help Zee too, if she came to me with her honest face and directly asked me to help her kill Mari’s goddess—powerful and cruel indeed—and what is being Chosen except its own kind of prison? Yes, I certainly begrudge the goddess enough for everything she’s ever done to Mari.

“She tricked me,” my sister says. “But she didn’t lie. She never lied. So my vow held. Even when she told me who she really was, I couldn’t do anything about it. I couldn’t even tell the others because I knew that would put her in danger.”

“Devious. Hells below, I do respect that,” I admit. “It’s a real shame you chose to fuck with my sister, or things might turn out differently for us.”

“She did more than eff with me.” Mari coughs. “But that’s… beside the point. Things got weird. My friends noticed I was spending more time alone with her, that I never strayed from her side. They got suspicious. Worried. It put a strain on our friendship. Isolated me so that Zee felt like the only one I could even talk to.”

“We talked,” scrapes the voice from the throbbing trunk of flesh in my house.

“Of course you talked. I love talking. Marina loves talking. You’re not a beast of many words, but I have no doubt in her power to make anyone engage her in conversation.”

Mari smiles just a bit at my comment. We may not be kids anymore, but I’m glad I can still help her deal with stressful situations with some levity.

“Yeah, we talked. She asked me how I felt about the goddess. Zee hates her so much, and… well, it felt easier to confess some of the things I resent. Stuff I couldn’t say to my friends, who needed to believe in the power of the Chosen One.”

I blink, surprised yet again by this turn of the conversation. “You resent your goddess? You?“

Still embracing me with both arms, her hands clench into fists at my back. “My whole life, she’s been watching me, whispering in my ear, grooming me to be her perfect Chosen One. When our parents died, she told me it would make me stronger. When we were starving and homeless, she told me it would teach me compassion for the less fortunate of the world. When you broke your leg, and then it got infected, and you were fighting a fever for months while I scrambled to feed us both and get you medicine, she told me I would learn to stand on my own.”

My sister trembles in my arms. “But she didn’t just whisper. She did those things. All of them. To teach me her lessons. She broke your leg to teach me to rely on you less. She made us orphans on purpose! She told me it was all necessary, and I believed her.”

“Until we talked,” Zammora adds.

“Until we talked.” Marina nods, her head against my shoulder again. “It was seductive. A part of me wanted to believe none of our suffering was necessary. That part of me wanted an excuse to hate her for the things she did to us. I think that part of me won when I decided to tell my friends the truth about Zee.”

A mental model starts to form; I begin to grasp the nature of Zammora—what kind of parasite she is—and start imagining how to counter her. Not merely a parasite of bodies, not merely a physical thing, she infects at a conceptual level, maybe even at the level of pure ontology. Without saying much at all, her presence alone infects thought, probing for weakness, turning minds toward herself. I cast my eyes over the spreading mass of tendrils claiming my home. And she’s in my house, which could be a problem.

“When I told my friends the truth, they all assumed I was under her control. I wasn’t—not yet, anyway.”

Or so Marina believes. I’m not so sure. Big Zee probably can’t be slain, not without the kind of sword that slices through thought as well as it does flesh and bone, but maybe…

Hmm. I can close the house. Trap all three of us here permanently, removed from the real world. It would accomplish the goal of saving the world from Zammora, at the cost of my life and Mari’s. An eternity trapped here with Zammora the Unclean? No, I don’t believe in heroic sacrifice, nor in sacrificing my own sister. Not an option. So then what?

“But I should have known that no matter what I said, they’d try to fight her.” She hesitates. “Maybe I did know. Maybe that’s what part of me wanted. I was oath-bound to defend her. I… you know, it’s weird I never made a vow to protect my friends? I guess we never thought that kind of thing needed to be said. We took it for granted.”

My breath hitches. “You killed them?” Oh, Mari, no. “That must have broken your heart.”

Marina’s face buries itself deeper against me. “It did.” I can’t see her tears, but I know her well enough that I don’t need to. “And when it was over, I broke the sword. Didn’t need it anymore. With them… gone… I was the greatest threat remaining to Zee. But only as long as I still had the sword.”

“The trade is complete, witch,” Zee pronounces. “I will have Marina’s mind again.”

“Not until you explain this ‘marriage blessing’ farce,” I snap. “You won, didn’t you? Your enemy’s Chosen is disarmed and neutralized. You’re free to do whatever it is a thing like you does when it runs rampant. What could possibly have compelled you to come here telling me such nonsense about wedding each other?”

“Plum…” My sister disengages from our embrace to look me in the eye. She’s a mess—her face wet with tears, snot running from her nose, and a touch of drying vomit on her chin, where she failed to wipe it all away. It’s an expression that reminds me of some of the hardest days when we were kids and all we had was each other. “Plum, it’s not nonsense. It’s… a plan.”

“A plan.” I repeat deadpan.

“Marriage under the auspices of the goddess. I don’t exactly… Zee, you tell her.”

I raise an eyebrow at my sister’s—apparently for real—fiancée.

“You understand infection, witch.”

“Do I, now?”

“Do not dissemble. I see it in your mind. You wear your mind as a house. It is plain to me. There.” A tendril points at the shelf where I keep my unfinished knitting. “You see me as parasite.”

No hiding my thoughts from her as long as she’s in my house, I suppose. My face flushes with embarrassment at having underestimated my houseguest.

“Correct, there is nowhere to hide.”

I try not to think too hard about how much of this place—a reflection of my own mind—she’s already colonized. It’s not too late yet, but I must take care.

“Alright, then. I’ve been playing my cards face up for this whole meeting. I accept that.” I shrug. “In some ways that simplifies everything. If you truly want my blessing, tell me your plan. The real one, please. You can see I don’t have my sister’s values.”

“Yet you value truth as much as she.” Zee rumbles, vibrating the whole building with her voice.

I turn my palms toward her in a gesture of openness, mirroring hers from earlier.

“Then hear me. We are to be married according to Her foul tradition. In doing so, Her temple will incept me within her aegis. She will be unable to aim Her divine intent against me, forevermore. I will be free to enact my design while She may do aught but watch in helplessness.”

Ah, that makes sense. Zee is exactly the right kind of parasite to pull off that scheme. It absolutely requires my sister, whose position of privilege as Chosen One makes her vows uniquely binding through connection to her goddess. It’s an elegant plan, really, but for one small problem.

“Marina would have to love you, or the marriage would be flawed at its foundation. That would be exactly the sort of crack her goddess would use to escape your trap.”

I pause in thought. “Oh.”

“The mind control.” Mari says my own thought aloud. “She can make sure I love her completely, despite my…”

“Revulsion,” Zee finishes for her. “A natural human instinct when witnessing my true glory.”

Is that enough, I wonder? Ugh, I’d need to do more research to be sure. Intuitively, though, I suspect it may not suffice.

“Please. This hurts, Plum.” Mari grips my shoulders to pull my attention back to her. “I hate looking at my Zee and feeling this… nausea. Even memory, remembering the things we’ve done together…” She shudders. “Once happy memories are tainted by this gross feeling. Please, Plum.”

“Please what? Are you asking me to let her restore the chains on your mind?” It’s an unsettling demand. How can I do that to my own sister? “Just force you to love her again?”

“I do love her!” She shouts, and I wonder how much is meant to convince me, and how much to convince herself. “You don’t know what we’ve been through together. My heart loves her, Plum. It’s just my traitor brain that doesn’t understand, no matter how hard I try. It’s stupid animal instinct, that’s all. I love her, and I don’t want to touch her, but I want to want to touch her. Do you know how much that hurts? I love her, and the thought of kissing my own girlfriend makes me want to vomit! I hate feeling like this!”

Her brown eyes shine with the same intensity they always did when she set off to do something that scared her. I know her better than anyone, but I cannot tell myself I know her better than she knows herself.

“Alright, Mari.” I run my hand across her cheek, brushing away a tear. “Far be it for me to tell my sister that her wife can’t tie her up if they both want.”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, the thread binding her to Zee snaps back into place. All at once, the tension leaves my sister’s body, and she pauses only to give me one quick hug of gratitude before flinging herself back toward her fiancée and planting a succession of kisses along her throbbing trunk. Tendrils wrap themselves around her and pull her tighter into the embrace.

Zammora speaks again, a scaly rasp on my mind. “Do we have your blessing, then?”

I chew my thoughts some more, a plan congealing in my mind as well as over my hearth. Zee can surely read the room, but I speak the words aloud for Mari’s sake.

“I can do you one better, my future sister-in-law.” I grin. “Allow me to write both your vows.” To Mari, I ask, “is that permitted in the ceremony?”

“Yes? No reason why it wouldn’t be. Why?”

“I know the words that bind direction. I know the true name of the sin at the heart of creation. Forget hiding merely within the goddess’s aegis, how would you like to get inside her very immune system?”

“I am listening,” Zee says, her voice now tasting like a caress.

“Let’s aim higher than just the sun. Infecting the goddess herself with disease sounds like fitting revenge for all three of us. Better than a blessing, I'll give you a curse. How does that sound?”

The rumble that fills my cottage might as well have been the purr of a monstrous cat. “I will have your words. And I will keep you as well, Plum.”

I seal the new pact with a rap of knuckles on wood. “You beautiful thing, as long as Mari’s happy, and I get to stay by her side, I’ll let you do whatever you want with me.” I exhale in satisfaction. The long nightmare of our lives is finally over, isn’t it?

“How about another pot of tea before we get planning?”

You are the elder sibling of the Hero. They want your blessing to marry the Villain they originally set out to destroy; now sitting across from you at the same table.

[galaxy-stardust]

Simon Ghost Riley x you

He teaches you the language of his work - Part 2

The early morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. You were still sprawled on the bed, tangled in sheets, when Simon’s phone buzzed on the nightstand. He reached over, grabbed it, and sighed as he read the message.

“Duty calls?” you asked, voice husky with sleep.

“Not yet,” Simon said. “Soap being a nuisance. Wants to know if I’ve taught you enough to lead a mission.”

You snorted. “Tell him I’m ready to take his spot.”

Simon chuckled, his body vibrating slightly against yours. “Careful. He’d put you through boot camp just to prove a point.”

You sat up slowly, feeling the ache from the night’s lessons. Simon’s gaze followed you, dark and appreciative. He reached for his shirt, but you stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“I’m not done learning,” you teased. “What’s next on the curriculum?”

Simon leaned back, eyes narrowing playfully. “You sure? My courses are intense.”

“I think I can handle it.”

He shifted suddenly, pinning you back against the pillows with a low growl. “You handled last night just fine.”

Your heart raced as he captured your lips in a deep, claiming kiss. But before things could escalate, his phone buzzed again—louder, more insistent.

“Soap,” Simon muttered darkly, grabbing the phone. This time, his eyes narrowed as he read the message. “Team meeting in an hour.”

“Perfect timing,” you groaned, flopping back against the pillows.

Simon gave you a crooked smile. “Don’t think this is over. We’ll finish the lesson later.”

An hour later, you sat cross-legged on the sofa, sipping coffee while Simon and the team connected over a video call. Soap, Gaz, and Price filled the screen, each wearing expressions ranging from amused to exasperated.

“Morning, love,” Soap greeted, waggling his eyebrows. “Simon been teachin’ you more ‘bout comms?”

You raised a brow. “Let’s just say I’m a quick study.”

Soap burst out laughing. “Aye, she’s got more guts than you, Ghost.”

“Careful, MacTavish,” Simon warned, though his tone held no heat.

Price cleared his throat, clearly trying to keep things on track. “Enough fooling around. We’ve got updates on the next mission.”

You leaned back as the conversation turned serious. Despite the banter, there was a deep camaraderie among them—a bond forged through battles and shared secrets.

But Simon’s gaze kept drifting to you, his expression softening in a way it never did with anyone else.

When the call finally ended, Simon stood, stretching before making his way over to you. “What’s the plan for today?”

“Breakfast first. Then maybe some more lessons.” You grinned wickedly. “Think you can keep up?”

Simon’s eyes darkened, his voice dropping to that familiar rasp. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Lesson two was about to begin.

~~~~~~

The crisp winter air wrapped around you both as you wandered through the snow-draped landscape, leaving behind a trail of footprints. Simon walked with an easy, quiet confidence beside you, hands shoved into his jacket pockets.

After a few minutes of silence, you nudged him with your elbow. “So… you taught me a few phrases last night. But I want more. What’s next?”

Simon’s eyes flicked to you, a glimmer of amusement there. “You’re really keen on this, huh?”

You nodded eagerly. “Come on. Hit me with something.”

He stopped walking, turning toward you with a smirk. “Alright. Let’s see if you remember what ‘RTB’ means.”

“Return to base.” You crossed your arms, grinning. “Easy.”

“Breach and clear?”

“Entering and securing the area.”

Simon hummed, clearly impressed. “Good girl.”

The praise sent warmth flooding through you. You didn’t have time to dwell on it, though, because Simon stepped closer. “Here’s one you’ll hear a lot: ‘Copy that.’”

“Copy that?” You tilted your head. “So it’s… acknowledgment, right? Like saying, ‘Got it’?”

“Exactly.” Simon’s eyes narrowed in mock seriousness. “Let’s practice. Say I give you an order. What’s your response?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Copy that.”

“Good. Now let’s make it more interesting.” Simon took a step back, folding his arms across his broad chest. “Alright, soldier. Your next mission—build me a snow fort. Make it tall, sturdy, and ready for battle.”

You gave him a mock salute. “Copy that.”

With renewed determination, you crouched down and began gathering snow. Simon leaned against a tree, watching with that infuriating smirk that always sent your heart racing.

As you worked, Simon’s deep voice broke the quiet. “One more phrase for you. ‘Hold your position.’”

“Means don’t move,” you answered without looking up.

“Exactly. And it also means…” He suddenly lunged, grabbing a handful of snow. “Stay right there while I do this.”

You barely had time to react before the snowball hit you square in the shoulder.

“Simon!” you shrieked, wiping snow from your coat.

He chuckled, another snowball already in his hand. “What’s the matter? Didn’t hear the order?”

“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that.”

With a quick scoop of snow, you launched your own attack. The next few minutes were pure chaos—snow flying, laughter ringing through the trees. You managed to land a hit on Simon’s chest, but he retaliated by tackling you gently into a snowbank.

Pinned beneath him, your laughter faded as the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you. His weight pressed into you—not crushing, but grounding. His eyes, dark and intense, searched yours.

“You’re learning fast,” he murmured.

“Yeah?” you whispered.

Simon leaned in, his lips brushing yours. “Roger that.”

The kiss was slow and deep, snowflakes melting against your skin.

“Think we can call that a successful mission?” you asked breathlessly.

Simon grinned. “I’d say it’s just the beginning.”

[yannasuniverse]

𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐊𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐈𝐭 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐁𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮? | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Dominique Darius x Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Cussing, arguing.

𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: If you want to be in the taglist just dm me or comment! I tried my best editing this so if there’s any thing spell wrong or said wrong just ignore it😀

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝘀: Chapter 1

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚: This toke me all day to write😭 am sorry it’s so long but hope y’all like it!.

You and Aubrey sat in a booth at McDonald’s waiting for your food to be ready. “Do you think if we put butter in a middle of a cookie and bake it I’ll taste better?” Looking up from your phone giving Aubrey a ‘are you dumb?’ look.

“That’s so stupid, it would make the cookie soggy in the middle duhh” you said in a teasing tone rolling your eyes.

“I’m going to check on the food I’ll be right back” “Ok can u go you fill me cup back up again?” Aubrey nods her head taking your cup with her.

Scrolling through tiktok, turning your head towards the door hearing it door open, your eyes winded a bit seeing Dominique and her teammate Kiki walk in.

Of course she had to be here, you think. Could your day get any worse?. Sliding all the way in the booth putting your head down hoping she didn’t see you.

“Bro what the fuck are you doing?” Lifting up your head, meet with a confused face from Aubrey. “Am hiding” You said looking around making sure Dominique was no where near you two.

“No way your hiding form her” She said laughing as she stuffed a fry in her mouth. “It’s not funny, I don’t feel like arguing am already exhausted” You said grabbing your food.

“Whatever you say” Aubrey said in a teasing tone “Aubrey griffin don’t piss me off” you said mugging her. “Fine I’ll leave it alone, for now.. ” rolling your eyes at her.

You had finished your food, grabbing your Dr Pepper bring it to your mouth but dropping it in the process spill it on your white shirt. “Oh just fuck my life” You said pick up the cup off of your lap.

“Your so clumsy how does that happen?” Aubrey said laughing, “Shut up and am not clumsy” you said glaring at her.

“You are, go to the bathroom to wipe yourself off, and take the tray with you while your at it” She said handing you the tray.

letting out a whine “But that means I have to walk past them, can you come with me please” you ask dragging out the e.

“No, you can by yourself, while I’ll clean up your mess” Aubrey said shoving her last chicken nugget in her mouth.

“Some best friend you are” you said pretending to be mad at her hoping she give in.

“I’m not falling for the fake mad thing, now go” Aubrey said waving you off with a smile. You get up grabbing the tray taking it with you.

“Fine” you said before walking away, dumping the food in the trash, putting the tray away. Your heart started to speed up as you got closer and closer to their table. Making eye contact with Dominique as you walk past into the bathroom.

Grabbing paper towels before making your way to the sink. You began to wipe yourself off with the water hoping you wouldn’t be sticky later.

The bathroom door opened, looking in the mirror to see Dominique in her casual clothes. Just great, you think.

“So how’s your nose” Dominique ask, with her usual shit eating grin. “It’s just fine, thanks for asking” you responded sarcastically continuing to wiping yourself off

Her eyes watch your every move like she was almost examining you. “Are you just going to watch me the whole time or say something” you say becoming annoyed at her watching you. “What’s got you all moody” she ask moving to the other side of you, crossing her arms watching you though the mirror.

“What does it look like? I spill my whole drink on me” You say pointing to the obvious. “Maybe if you weren’t so clumsy that would have happened” Domi said a teasing smile on her face. Your mouth slightly opened no word’s coming out.

“Whatever Dominique” You said turning off the sink, looking down at your shirt still a visible light brown stain on it. Sighing know you should have not wore white.

“Well I have to go before Aubrey gets mad at me, um nice seeing you I guess?” You said questioning the last part. Starting to walk away but stop as Dominique grab your hand cause you to stop.

“What do you d-” “here” She said cutting you off before you could finish, She took of her jacket revealing her white wife beater under. Expand her arm waiting for you too take it.

“You want me? to take your jacket?” You question confused, you could see see Dominique face become slightly red with a look of annoyance and embarrassed lace in. You began to smile preparing to tease her

“Is The Dominique Darius being nice to me?” you teased putting a hand over your heart pouting a bit. Dominique rolled her eyes her face getting more red by the second. “Don’t get use to it” She said shoving her jacket into your hands.

Mumbling a thank you as you put it on, Surprisingly It fit just right on you. “Did you want it back before you leave?, I can wash it and give it back before you do” You ask.

“Yeah that would be great, give me your number so you can drop it off” Dominique said, pulling her phone out of her pocket opening it handing it to you.

Putting your number in under ‘favorite uconn player’ before handing her phone back. She look at the contact name giving you a look.

“What?” You said pretending not to know, walking out of the bathroom with her following behind you “You know what, Favorite uconn player?” Dominique questioned raising a brow. “Yeah because am the best” You say proudly.

“Umm sure if you believe that” Turning your head to glare at her “Whatever you hater, text me the address and I’ll drop it off tomorrow” You said annoyed “And she back to acting like a bitch” Dominique said rolling your eyes at your mood switch as you glared at her.

“You can’t call me a bitch when your one yourself” Domi scoffed “Yeah am a bitch? yeah ok, at least am not in somebody shadow all the time”. A look of hurt come across your face but quickly hide it. And just to think y’all were getting into each other’s good side.

“How about you grow up” “You first” opening your mouth to let out another comeback before Kiki and Aubrey came up to y’all stopping the arguing.

“I see y’all are getting alo-” Aubrey said stop mid sentence seeing y’all giving each the nastiest look’s she ever seen “Never mind then” she said looking at Kiki who just shrug her shoulders in response.

You began walking away, heading outside. Leaving Aubrey and Kiki giving each other confused looks. Aubrey awkwardly waved bye at her new friend before making her way outside.

She got in the car seeing you slouch in your seat arms cross. “Do you want to talk about it.” She ask hesitant. “No.” Nodding her head wanting to give you space, Starting up the car, driving away from McDonald’s making y’all way to the dorms.

The next day you woke up to kk shaking you, “Y/n get up you promised to make me breakfast” Kk whispered in your ear as she shook you. Opening your eyes letting out a load groan turning over to the other side “Kk really? Now? How bout I make you lunch instead” You said your voice a little raspy “No you promised so get up now, before I jump on your bed” Her saying that made you get up. “Fine wait for me in the kitchen” You said getting out of your bed.

Checking your phone to see that Domi had texted you the address of the Hotel, looking over at your desk to see her jacket unwash. Getting up grabbing some sweats off the floor that might be Aubrey’s but who knows. Grabbing the jacket on your way out of your room.

Walking into the kitchen to see kk at the on her phone. Tossing her the jacket “Go put this in the washer while I’ll start making the food” You said diapering into the kitchen not waiting for her response.

“Alexa play Deeper by Dej Loaf and Jacquees” Texting the group chat that breakfast would be ready in 20. “So who’s jacket is that?” Kk ask coming out of nowhere scaring you “First don’t do that and second it’s none of your business” You said handing her a bowl of batter and a spoon.

“Is it someone your hooking up with?” Kk ask even more curiousthen before. “Kk stir the batter before before I’ll not make you any bacon” You said that seem to shut her up.

20 minutes went by fast, now the whole team was in your dorm eating all together. It’s made you happy to see all of your closet friend’s being together all happy. Your phone loudly rang making everyone look at you

“Dang y’all being nosy ”. You said getting up going to your room closing the door behind you. “Hello” You say answering the FaceTime “When are you dropping my jacket off?” Dominique ask only her forehead and eyes showing.

Dang not even a hello?, But I can drop it off now it just got out of the dryer” you say flipping the camera showing her the jacket. “Did you eat yet?” You ask leaving your room, “Um no why?” She questioned you now sitting down at a desk.

“Because I made breakfast and I have a lot leftover, who else didn’t eat?”. Propping up your phone walking away to get to go boxes. “Nobody had anything yet” “Ok I’ll be there in like 30 minutes” You said hanging up the phone.

“Can someone help me make these plates please!” You yelled from the kitchen, soon Aubrey and Jana walk in, “Just put everything in” You said giving them some boxes.

Y’all had finish making the to boxes 10 minutes and now you were at the Hotel waiting for Domi to come help you. Raising your head hearing a loud knock at your window. Opening the door “Did you really have to bang on the window?” You ask annoyed at her childish behavior, opening the back door handing her some of the boxes.

“Yeah I just wanted to make you mad, and it work” She said proudly. “Your so infuriating” you say shaking your head as you grab the last boxes and her jacket before closing the car door.

“Lead the way” walking into the hotel which was really fancy inside. She press the elevator button waiting for a couple seconds as the door opened before stepping in. “So why did you make all this food?” Dominique ask looking over at you a bit “Just made to much that’s all” you said keeping your answer short.

The door finally opened you stepping out the the elevator first then Domi, you followed her down the hall in silence. Reaching her room she knock on the door, the door was opened by Kiki “Hiii thank you for bringing us food, you really didn’t have too” Kiki says to you as she let’s y’all in. “It’s no problem I just made to much” You say giving her a smile.

You sat down at the edge the bed while Kiki sat across from you. “Your so nice I don’t see why Domi hate’s you so much” She says looking over at Domi with a smirk. “Kiki shut up your not funny at all” “I think she very funny” You butting in grinning as Kiki laugh at Dominique face.

“Well am going to take the food to everybody, It was really nice to meet you, you should come to California sometime” She says giving you a hug “Sure I don’t see why not, It was great meeting you too” You said hugging her back “Bye I’ll have Domi give you my number” Kiki said waving before walking out.

Now it was just you and Domi in the room. Neither of y’all said anything to break the silence. “I’m sorry by the way” Turning to look at her confused “What are you talking about?” You ask “You know what I said about you being in somebody shadow all the time” She said not meeting your eyes, realization hit you now remembering.

“Oh it’s ok i guess” You say, “What do you mean i guess, do you not believe me?” Dominique said standing up for the bed making you get up as well feeling threatened. “I mean Kiki probably told you to say sorry”.

She let out a scoff in disbelief “I take my apology back then, you should be lucky that I even said sorry!” She said rising her voice a little “What’s that supposed mean? Oh am sorry that your apology is so fucking rehearse!”. You said crossing your arm’s over your chest stepping a bit closer to her.

“Ok and what if it is! And you wonder why I called you a bi-” “You can’t be serious when you literally do is bully me on the court! And sleep with as many fucking girls you can!” You shout cutting her off, furiously shoved your finger in her chest. “Why does it matter who I sleep with?! Are you mad because you don’t get no pussy or because I wouldn’t fuck you?”

The room went silent, you and her both breathing heavy, tears started to roll down your face. Domi face slightly red from the yelling “Your such a asshole Dominique” “But look who is over here crying like a little fucking girl”. She said rolling her eyes still down at the desk covering her face.

“You know what? fuck you and to think we could get on each other’s good side for once but of course you just had to mess it up” “Well you obviously thought wrong” Grabbing your keys, opening the door to see her whole team at the door with shocked faces.

Mustering the biggest smile you could despite the tears rolling down your face “I hope y’all all enjoyed the food, good bye now” You said walking past all of them speed walking to the elevator.

Everyone went into the room to see Domi sitting down at the desk with her head buried in her hands “I leave y’all alone for a couple minutes and this what happens, why were y’all even arguing this time” Kiki ask walking over to Domi, she uncovered her face shaking her head “Nothing just know she a easy sensitive bitch”.

©𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @hellokittyfeenie @favreader23 @authentic-girl03

[seenoversundown]

Good For Me

Jake Kiszka x Charlotte (Fem OC)

Warnings: FLUFF ROMANCE CUTIE PATOOTIES, mentions of minor injury (blood/bandaging) failed attempts at reservations, insinuation of sex, flirting, more cute stuff, I mean it’s Jake & Char guys.

Word Count: 3k.

Author's Note: I will always take the opportunity to revisit these two 🥹 Their stories practically fall out of my brain onto the metaphorical paper.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Good For Me - Bob Seger 🎶

Jake POV 

“Time to wake up, baby,” her voice was always the best thing to hear when I woke up. Pressing her lips against my temple before she whispers, “Good morning.” 

My eyes hardly open, but I can smell the fresh coffee sitting next to me. Peeking down, I see a tray with a blurry plate of food. 

“Breakfast?” I ask, pulling her face in slowly. “Mmm, you’re too sweet.” Leaving a few kisses on her lips, her laugh is the second-best thing to hear in the morning. 

She carefully slips back into bed with me. I swear she would have fed me if I let her. Romantic little thing she is. It takes a million times longer to get through food when all I want to do is kiss her precious face. 

“Imagine,” she starts, lazily kissing me before finishing her thought. “When we can do this every day.” Hardly hovering over my lips, feeling every word come out. 

“Honey, all you have to do is say the word,” I tell her and I mean it so seriously. The day she wants to move in, I will do whatever I have to in order for her to be comfortable. 

She plays with the ends of my hair for a moment before looking up at me. Her raspy little voice whispered, “Maybe once we’re engaged.” 

“Really?” I ask. Fighting every urge to go pull the ring out from my closet. She would kill me if I proposed today. She loves romcoms, but I think the cliche would take her out. 

“Mhm,” she hums. “Leaving you every few days is hard now— it’ll only be harder after that.” 

All I can do at the moment is kiss her. The fact the ring has been sitting in my closet for so long is killing me, but I have been holding out until she seems more ready for it. She would have been my wife already if it were just up to me. 

“That sounds like a deal to me, Red.” 

🖤 🖤 🖤

Getting out of bed proved to be much more difficult today. Neither of us necessarily cared for Valentine’s Day, but we also spoiled each other all the time. Not to say that I didn’t come up with the best plans, because, well, I did. 

“Get some reading in, and then we can dress up.” I lean down, kissing her forehead. “I have everything planned for us tonight.” 

“Oh, do you?” 

“Mhmm,” I hum. Smiling as she stares up at me, running my hand over her head gently. “I have to remind everyone how lucky I am.” 

“Jacob,” she coos as her arms slink around my neck. 

“Mmm, you can keep saying that,” I mumble, practically falling back into bed. “I have to go downstairs for a little bit just to get everything ready so I can be all yours later.” 

She lets out a little sigh, “I’ll miss you.” Pouting that perfect little lip out as she looks at me. 

“Honey, stoooop—“ I start, grazing my thumb over her pout. “I’ll be back before you know it,” I tell her as I start to stand back up. 

“Wait—“ she lets out. I turn around to look at her, with only my jeans pulled on, buttoning them as she rakes her eyes over me. Suddenly, looking at the ceiling and muttering, “Thank you.” 

Through a chuckle, I ask, “who are we thanking?” 

“Cass, God, anybody who will listen,” she tells me.

“For what?” 

She smirks when she says, “For giving me a fine ass man.”

Giggling as I grab a shirt from my closet, I slowly make my way back over to her while I button, just the few bottom ones. Looking at her through my eyebrows and mumbling, “This fine ass man is gonna go to work now. Sooner I get down there, the sooner I’ll be yours for the rest of the night.” 

“Well, what are you waiting for— go!” She rambles out against my lips. “I love you! Don’t get lost! Make good choices!” 

Laughing into her, “I love you.” 

🖤 🖤 🖤

The down side of having a few more bartenders now, as opposed to just my family essentially, is that they are significantly more worried about everything. Which I appreciate in a staff, that they want me to be aware of things and don’t want to do something wrong, but god– life was easier when it was just Josh and I. 

I ran through all the possible scenarios and everything seemed normal. Not that the bar gets that busy on Valentine’s Day, but I do want to make sure they are all situated and comfortable before I’m gone for the day. Learning to step away more has been difficult, but when your girlfriend lives a few hours away, you learn quickly to relinquish a little control. 

Hardly a minute goes by, sitting in my office, and my phone starts buzzing. 

“Hi, is this Jacob?” A woman’s voice asks quietly. 

“Yes?” 

“Ahh, I’m so sorry to do this to you today, but–” her voice sounding timid, which doesn’t sit well with me.  “Unfortunately..  we overbooked for this evening.”

“Oh,” practically falls out of my mouth.

She sighs, sounding a bit defeated. “I’m really so sorry. We’re not entirely sure how this happened.” 

  “No, that’s okay. I understand,” I try to sound the least amount of irritated as I can. “Thank you.” 

Fuck. 

Frantically turned on my computer, determined to find a replacement restaurant that we could go to. It wasn’t necessarily crucial that we went there today– I just knew that Char really wanted to go. I’ll take her there next time she’s here for the weekend; that part isn’t a big deal. 

After spending a few minutes googling some options, there are a few that we could go to—calling every single one to make a reservation, just in case. Did I need to do that? No. But I’m not going to let today get messed up. In the midst of a phone call, the flowers I ordered for her were delivered to me. Whispering, thank you as I sign for them; I can’t lie, I do feel a little crazy with the amount of things I’m trying to juggle at the moment. 

Once I have reservations at four different restaurants, I do one more round through the bar and check in with two who are working, making sure they feel comfortable. 

“Just call me if you need me, but I know you two can handle it.” 

Running upstairs, flowers in hand and things are finally feeling like they’re back on track. Sneaking inside, it’s a little embarrassing how excited I always am to see her. 

Calling out to her as I walk through the door, “Honey?” 

She walks out from the hallway, wrapped in a towel but her make up and hair are perfectly done. Her eyes lighting up as she looks at me. I don’t think there will be a day where she doesn’t leave me speechless. 

“Um,” I hesitate, as if this is the first time I’ve seen her like this. “I got these for you.” 

She reaches out, taking the little bundle of flowers from me, “You’re too sweet.” Leaning against my chest and kissing my cheek, but quickly wiping her thumb over the spot. She quietly giggles, “Apparently, this lipstick isn’t kiss-proof.” 

“You can make a mess of me later,” I whisper to her, tilting her chin up so I can lightly kiss her. “What are you wearing tonight?” 

She tugs me along with her back to my room, grabbing a short black dress off my bed. My head may as well have been spinning when she dropped her towel. Watching her slip into this tight little dress. The satin hugging every part of her body and I have to refrain from being too excited about it. 

“Can you–” she starts to ask but just turns around so I can finish zipping the back for her. And at the end of the day, I’m still a man. Leaning down, leaving a few kisses on her shoulder and creeping up her neck. 

“You’re unreal,” I mumble next to her ear. 

She pulls out a black button-up for me, but I have to make sure she’s just as excited as I am. Grabbing my rings from my nightstand and slipping them on, and naturally pulling out my nicer watch. Letting her help me put it on, not because I needed the help, but feeling her hands on me in any way is everything I want. 

“Baby,” Char’s voice rings from behind me as I’m spraying a little more cologne. Turning to her, she’s holding my phone out. 

It’s one of the bartenders. 

“Hey, what’s up?” 

Her voice sounds timid as she says, “Hey, there’s a uh.. situation down here.” 

My eyes shut tightly, asking, “What kind of situation?” Char’s eyebrows shoot up as she watches me. 

“Well, um,” she hesitates. “We were just prepping some things, and she may have slipped a little with a knife while she was cutting up some limes and–”

My head falls back, trying not to get mad, “I’ll be right there.” 

“Is everything okay?” Char’s voice is quiet. 

I let out a long breath, shaking my head gently as I looked at her. “There was a lime cutting incident.” Grabbing both of her hands, I tell her, “I’m so sorry. I just need to go make sure she’s okay real quick.” 

“It’s not your fault,” she whispers, slipping one of her hands away to smooth out my brows. Not realizing how stressed I actually looked. “Just do what you need to do.” 

🖤 🖤 🖤

The way it was explained over the phone was definitely a sugar-coated version of what I walked into. Grateful that the bar wasn’t overloaded with people, but seeing one of your bartenders completely pale trying to mix drinks is not the best look. 

“Hey, come with me,” I tap her arm. Walking her to the back room, and having her just sit on the floor for me. “Can I look at it?” 

She nods, and I can see the way she’s fighting the tears. Unwrapping the paper towel bandage she’d made for herself, it was not a pretty sight. That looks like it fucking hurts. Draping the paper towel back over it, I quickly grab everything from the first aid box we have. 

“I’m gonna redo this, okay?” I ask, but it’s really more of a telling situation. “It’s probably going to be uncomfortable, and you can cuss me out if you want. I just don’t need you getting infected.” 

Looking at her, still white as a ghost but letting out a small laugh. 

“I’m sorry,” I let out as I started wiping off the nasty cut. Seeing her wince makes me stop for a second, so I’m not making her completely miserable. Even after the little break, I carefully try to clean it as much as I can, but it’s a pretty deep cut. Lifting her hand so I can make sure to clean off any extra blood that may have dripped, but moving it must have been the last straw when I hear the sad exhale. 

The tears finally escaped, and I can’t deny that I’m impressed with how long she lasted. She looks like a mess between me trying to clean up one hand, and then she’s still regaining color in her face, and now she’s crying. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” I whisper. Moving a bit quicker with the rest of it; dropping a tiny bit of ointment into the pad of the bandaid and wrapping it fairly tight around her finger. “There you go- it’s over.” 

Watching as she cries into her not damaged hand for a second, my heart hurts for her. She’s hardly over twenty-one and very sweet; I’ve been lucky that she goes to college nearby, even if she only works part-time. I can’t make her stay after this. 

“Why don’t you go home? We can figure out a different night for you,” I tell her, gently rubbing her arm, hoping it’ll help calm her down. “Let me get you some water so you can come back to life before you drive, though.” 

Me: that was horrific 

Char: oh no :( is she okay now? 

Me:  better but I’m sending her home

Me: she started crying I can’t make her stay 

It only took a little bit for her to seem a bit more stable, but I sat with her until she looked alive enough to drive home. Meanwhile, I had been texting everyone else, trying to find someone to come in on short notice. 

The only option right now is to see if Josh can get here early enough for me to escape. But I know those lovebirds are probably off and in a different universe at this point. Which I can’t fault him for, I did give him the day off.  

The customers start rolling in, I glance over at the bartender I have left, “Hey, I’m just gonna go call Charlotte real quick. I’ll be right back.”

She throws me a thumbs-up before walking over to someone who’s about to sit down. 

“Honey, I’m so sorry,” the only way I’d describe how I sound is desperate. “I’ll make it up to you.”

She almost laughs, “It’s okay.”

“No, no, it’s not. I had this whole thing and-” I start to rattle off my plan when she cuts me off. 

“Baby, I’m not mad at you.” I couldn’t ask for a better woman in my life, I swear to god. She sweetly asks,  “Do you want me to help with anything?”

“Honey, no, absolutely not,” I tell her. Disappointed isn’t a strong enough word for how I felt when I told her, “I’ll try to get someone to come in for the rest of the night if I can, but I’m not sure if that’s going to happen.”

Her voice was still calm, telling me, “Just do what you have to, okay? I love you.” 

🖤 🖤 🖤

The rest of the night was like a blur. More people ended up coming in than I would have expected on a romantic holiday, but I guess where else do you go when you’re single on Valentine’s Day but a pirate-themed bar? 

Grateful for the bartender that I did have tonight; she absolutely handled the crowd better than I expected after the way her shift started. Nobody deserves to play doctor when they aren’t prepared for it. I tipped her out as quickly as possible so she could get home and sleep off the chaos that she dealt with. 

Standing there, listening to Night Moves as usual, while I shut down the POS when I can feel the energy in the room shift. 

“Hey,” Char’s voice softly graces my ears from behind me.

“Hey you,” I let out before asking, “What are you doing down here?” Reaching my hand out to her, pulling her in close.

“I have an idea,” She tells me quietly. “Just finish whatever you need to.” Kissing my cheek but not wiping it off this time. 

“You look beautiful, by the way,” I tell her as she sneaks off down the hall. 

It’s only a few minutes before I have everything taken care of behind the bar, and she’s been scurrying around the whole time. I wouldn’t have guessed her plan in a million years. 

Walking over to the corner booth, a candle lit in the middle of it with a little charcuterie board next to it. Her favorite throw blanket was tossed onto the seat. Feeling her hands slide around my waist from behind, turning me around to her. 

“I made us some food since you got stuck down here,” She says quietly, fixing my collar and scooting the chain of my necklace so the clasp is behind me again. She winks at me when she says, “I figured you would have drinks covered.”

“Of course,” my voice and eyes soften as I look at her.  “What would you like, honey?” 

“I think Valentine’s Day calls for wine,” she gently taps my lips a few times before sliding into the booth. 

Walking back with our wine, I hand hers over, “For you.” Sliding into the booth with her, trying not to laugh at the way she had her legs wrapped up in the blanket. 

“So, what happened with the lime incident?” she asks. 

Taking a couple minutes to explain what happened, without saying anything too gross. I don’t want to ruin the mood or our ability to eat. 

“Enough about work,” I breathe out, grabbing one of her hands and kissing the back of it. “I love you. I’ll still find a night to take you out.” 

“I’m just happy to see you,” she beams at me. “Especially when you’re dressed like this.” 

She very intentionally and obviously checks me out, hitting me with a cheesy little wink after. God, I love her. I can’t resist kissing her a few times, giggling into each other like we always have. It’s like the honeymoon stage never went away with this girl. 

“You didn’t have to wait up for me,” I tell her, feeling a bit guilty at how late it is.

Her hand cups my jaw as she looks at me, “You looked so sad earlier. I couldn’t let the day be a complete fail.” 

My head tilts, leaning into her hand as my eyes shut, just soaking up the moment. Laughing as I tell her, “I swear one of these years I’ll get better at this.” 

“Well, lucky for you— we have a lot of Valentine’s Days ahead of us,” she giggles. 

I glance around the room for a second, looking back over to her, “We could still make this one memorable.” Wiggling my eyebrows at her, and her eyes light up at it. 

“In here?” 

“Like our first time,” I whisper, letting my hand slide up her thigh. 

Her arms slip around my neck, smiling into a kiss before whispering, “Aye, aye, Captain.” 

For Death Or Glory Masterpost

Taglist:

@gvfsstardust @myleftsock @dont-go-home-without-me @literal-dead-leaf

@lizzys-sunflower @mackalah @klarxtr @edgingthedarkness

@writingcold @i-love-gvf @takenbythemadness @ladywhimsymoon

@earthgrlsreasy @peaceloveunitygvf @gretavanfan @musicspeaks

@jazzyfigz @smoking-jakelane @demonrat444 @hollyco @josh-iamyour-mama

@wrldabomination @broken0mens @whereiskeara @gvf-luna

@katuschka @chloeshell1219 @becinabubblegvf @scoreofinfantryvines

@ourlovesdesires @sanguinebats @nicoleghost18 @lightmy-love

@myownparadise96 @cheersdannyx2 @lallisonl @mohallandtx

@fleetingjake @allof--mylove @anythingforjtk @musicislove3389

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

MAKE ME WRITE ASK

@inell I accidentally copied the wrong answer into your 1k for 🔼 - SORRY! Here is a panicked 900 words instead.

---

“I have to go actually. Um, if you could… I mean, this doesn’t need to go beyond us, right?” 

“Maddie, you’re putting me in a really weird position,” Shannon says.

“Okay, uh…” There’s genuine panic in Maddie’s voice. “I’ll talk to you later, Shannon.” 

The call ends. 

“What the hell?” Shannon whispers at her phone. 

▶️

After their shift, Eddie heads home. Buck heads to Maddie and Chim’s. 

To tell the truth, Eddie is nervous about it. He doesn’t know if he sees the point of Buck enduring a second dinner with those people. If Buck’s account is accurate, they didn’t even give him a chance. They treated Jane like she was something shameful. Which, honestly? Eddie doesn’t give a single fuck about what Buck’s parents - strangers to him and to Buck - think about his daughter. But he cares that, if Buck actually did have a baby of his own, that’s how they’d treat their own grandchild. That’s pretty fucked up. 

Overall, Eddie’s just worried. He doesn’t think Buck needs this, and he’s protective. That’s all. 

He picks Chris up from school on his way back to the house. Chris is fascinated by Eddie’s story of the guy who wanted to blow up an office building today. Kind of a crazy thing to find entertaining, but Eddie supposes it’s his fault for telling him. 

When they walk through the front door, Shannon is waiting for him. She looks stressed. Eddie wonders if the application process didn’t go well. She says hi to Chris, then he goes off to unpack his bag. Once he’s gone, she looks to Eddie.

“Buck went to dinner?” 

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Not sure why, but he did.”

“Damn,” Shannon whispers. 

“What? Why?” Eddie asks. 

“Maddie called me earlier,” Shannon says. “Uh, I don’t really know what’s going on, but… But I have some concerns.”

🔼

Dinner, take two, is actually worse. Maybe all the fuss about Jane had been a good shield. 

Buck is already frustrated. He’s already been assured, by Shannon and Eddie, that the way they treated him wasn’t fair. That he deserves better. That he doesn’t owe anyone anything, if he can’t be treated with basic decency. The point is, he’s already sort of worked up by the time his father says something fucking stupid. 

“It still seems risky. I mean, from what I hear, Evan has spent quite a lot of time in hospitals,” Phillip says, about their jobs. 

And yeah, okay. It is a risky job. But it’s also the thing that makes Buck feel like he matters. Like he does something good. And they’ve never expressed any concerns before…

“From what you hear?” Buck echoes. 

Everyone looks at him. Maddie sighs, like she knows dinner is ruined now. Like Buck has spoiled everything. 

“‘Cause you could have come,” he adds. “Seen for yourself.”

But they don’t care. They do not care at all. 

His mother takes offense to this suggestion, though. Like it’s a personal attack on her. 

“Evan, I’ve told you-”

“You, uh, you’re not good with hospitals,” he finishes for her. “I got it.”

“I’m not good at seeing my children in them.” She rebuts, eyes watering. “You don’t know.”

Uh, no? He doesn’t? Because she never comes? 

“Mom, mom,” Maddie shakes her head. 

Buck looks between them. Some sort of understanding occurs in their look. Something that leaves Buck on the outside. He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t trust it. And more importantly, it’s not what he and Maddie agreed on. 

“I’m fine,” Margaret says, taking a shaky breath. “I’m ready for dessert.”

Buck’s jaw tenses. He’s suspicious. 

“Oh, Howard,” Phillip interjects. “Where’d you put that box we brought?”

“Dad, more gifts?” Maddie bemoans. 

“Not exactly,” Phillip assures her. 

“It’s over by the couch,” Chim says, hopping out of his chair. “Let me grab it.”

He hurries out of the kitchen to fetch whatever Buck’s parents brought. 

“I like him, Maddie,” Margaret says once Chim is out of earshot. 

“Me too,” Maddie smiles. 

“You picked a good one this time,” their mother continues. 

“Mom,” Buck glares at her. 

“It was a compliment, Evan. Maybe if you bothered to introduce us to the woman you’re seeing, we’d compliment her, too.”

Yeah. Not going to happen.

“Oh, I’m good,” Buck says.

“Ugh,” she sighs, exasperated.

Chim returns with a beautiful, handcrafted wooden box and sets it down on the dinner table. Maddie’s name is carved on the lid.

“Your baby box,” their mother explains. 

Wow. That’s sort of sweet actually. 

“I thought you might wanna pass on some of these things to your little girl someday,” she continues as Maddie opens the box. 

“Aw,” Chim beams. 

Buck moves to look at the contents. All the little mementos of Maddie’s infancy and childhood. As though she had kind and attentive parents. 

“Oh, this is so cool,” Buck says, pleasantly surprised.  “I didn’t know you made these for us.”

He wonders if Shannon and Eddie - or, Shannon, he supposes - did this for Chris. He doesn’t think he’s seen anything like it for Jane.

“When do I get mine?” Buck asks.

His parents look at each other. They look nervous. Uncomfortable. Neither of them answers. 

Oh.

They only did this for Maddie. 

“Hey, you’re not even a grown up yet,” Chim teases, clapping him on the back. “They’re probably still adding stuff to it.”

But they’re not. Buck knows they’re not. 

[flaskuwu]

I wish we got them dancing

[ranger-danger]

It does bother me that Wyll knew Gorion’s Ward (which means there’s little chance they’ve been dead for that long) and everyone acts like they’ve been dead for a long time. Wyll is 24. How does Ward both inhibit “I haven’t been dead for that long” and “I’ve been dead for so so long.” I’m not saying I want Ward to have their moment in the game, but a single passing phrase would certainly help.

[deus-ex-mona]

happy akarin day!!

[suguae]

Haunted

Toji cannot move on, until he realized too late.

Warnings: Angst, slightest fluff (reader and baby 'gumi moment)

You were just a girl, standing in front of a man, asking him to love you.

How hard was that for him? Yes, he wasn’t good with his words but he wasn’t good at anything else either. He was just there.

Maybe because the woman he truly loved—he was still mourning over her. His sad eyes every time he watched an old couple dance together, wishing he had been doing that but with her. The cute babies babble with their mothers as Megumi babbles with his father, how he wished his wife was still here instead of you. He never said it, but that’s what it felt like. 

And perhaps that's what it was. 

Sometimes he curses himself out when he accidentally calls you his wife's name. During intimate times only. You tried—trying to keep the emotions in as if it wasn’t breaking every part of you, was the hardest part. “Look he’s walking...” You smiled at the dark haired baby who was walking towards you. Toji smiled, making sure he’d record every second of it; deep down he wished his wife was the one the baby was walking towards instead of you.

And it was wrong—so wrong. 

“This relationship, I’m with you but Toji—Toji this is the loneliest I’ve ever felt.” You whispered while he ate his leftovers, his brows still furrowed from the argument occurring earlier. Having Toji work from 9–5 wasn’t the best but good thing he had you, helping him out with so much. Picking up groceries, picking up his lovely son—until you mentioned that one of his teachers mistaken you as his biological mother. That right there was enough to make Toji angry for weeks at least.

But not this time.

He stopped chewing on his food after you spoke, waiting for more of an explanation. Which you figured he needed, “I don’t think you’re in love with me–” 

“I like you [name], a lot.” He cleared his throat. He leaned back on his chair as his arms crossed waiting for you to continue the sentence he interrupted. 

Right, he liked you a lot. These three rough years you’ve been dating Toji—that particular l word was never uttered once, not even if he was drunk, or having a special moment with you. You huffed trying to find the right words for Toji to understand. That was until little Megumi started crying from his room. “I’ll try to put him back to sleep, finish eating.” He watched as your fragile little body sulked its way to Megumi’s room.

He knew this was gonna happen, he knew you were bound to leave him sooner or later. 

You smiled as you opened the door to see the little Megumi standing on top of his little bed. His hands wiping his tears as he ran towards you, his arms now wrapping around your legs. “Sleep with mama and papa.” He cried out as you leaned down to pick up the little boy. “[name] and papa, not mama okay?” You corrected him, if Toji were to find out that he had been calling you that, then that argument would’ve climaxed.

The little boy nodded, his tears now gone as you swayed him around. “Sleep with you.” He mumbled, leaning his head on your shoulder as he played with a strand of your hair. “Just for tonight.” You whispered, watching Megumi pick up his head and smile. Content with your answer. 

Toji’s heart could just swell at the sight. You treated his son as if he was your own and nothing looked so much better right now, except for the fact that he wished it was his wife.

Megumi was now soundly sleeping between you and Toji, “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” His eyes shut tightly hearing those piercing words leave your mouth. It hurt when his wife left him, but this hurt was different—different because he knew it was coming yet he didn’t want to do anything about it. 

“I’m sorry—”

“You don’t need to be the one apologizing.” He watched your soft gaze stare at completely nothing. He was confused, this was his fault. He never treated you how you needed deserved to be treated. “It was my fault for throwing myself at a man who simply was not ready.”

The next morning was silent—baby ‘gumi was confused at the saddened look on your face. Constantly walking up to you asking if you were okay. He was still just a baby, yet he read the room so well. “I’m sure we can work this out—” Toji now sitting next to you on the couch, some cartoon playing in the back as Megumi’s little head sat on your lap. “You’re not ready, Toji.” You nodded, eyes still glued on the tv as if it was meant for you and not the little Megumi. 

“And how are you so sure—”

“Tell me you love me then.” Your eyes are now fixed on Toji’s. It was hard, he felt as if his mouth had been glued shut. You sigh, bringing your gaze back to the tv, “I love you—but it’s hard when it’s one sided Toji.” 

It hurt much more, seeing you drive away as the clueless Megumi waved you out. Poor thing thinks you’re simply going to the store. The house that once felt like home was so dull now. Toji sat little ‘gumi down on the couch. 

His constant, “mama?” or “[name]?” while he kept his gaze on the door every so often. Nothing prepared Toji for this. Megumi cried that he wanted to sleep with his mama and papa, his heart swelled knowing that he had been talking about you.

You were gone, just like his wife. But it hurt—it hurt so much more knowing that you’re alive trying your best to…move on. He stayed up late that same night, stumbling upon a video from two years ago. When Megumi first learned how to walk. You and Toji had just started dating but the look of happiness plastered your face as you watched the little baby walking. 

That was one thing Toji never forgot about, how much you loved kids. Telling him how once you had kids of your own you would finally be able to live in peace. How he heard of it less and less as the years went on, he wonders if you still think that.

next part ->

[spencerreidenjoyer]

lovebird | spencer reid x reader

Spencer's little girl sets you and her dad up.

wc: 3.3k, rating: teen

tags/warnings: 2+1, kindergarten teacher!reader, single girldad!spencer, fluff, meet-cute, implied sex, use of "Y/N" because this fic would've been impossible to write without it oops

a/n: not sure what possessed me to write this, but i finished writing this in about 2 days lmao. girldad!spencer loml. thank you to my lovely friends over on twitter who fuelled my insanity. for this fic i have season 10 spencer in mind/later seasons spencer who's just full on daddy at that point <3 (also crossposted on ao3!)

Sunday

You’re at the grocery store in a ratty t-shirt and sweats, picking out fucking cereal when you hear the pitter-patter of footsteps running towards you, and a sweet, high-pitched voice calling your name. 

It’s one of your students, Ellie Reid, holding a box of cereal that’s half her height, and she comes up to you in the aisle. 

“Ellie? What are you doing here?” You ask sweetly, pushing your hair out of your face before you squat down to meet Ellie’s height. 

“My daddy wanted to get groceries. He said we would go together. But he had to pick up the phone, and I wanted to help look for the things Daddy needs.”

Her dad, Dr. Spencer Reid, is an FBI agent and a single dad to Ellie. He’s one of the best parents you’ve had this year – the fancy kindergarten you teach at lends itself to spoiled brats and uptight parents, but Dr. Reid and Ellie are a welcome reprieve in a usually stuffy environment. You’re pleased to see her here, on a weekend, but less pleased with the fact that she’s alone. 

“Oh, wow! You’re so helpful, Ellie,” you say, holding her arm gently. “I’m sure your dad is really thankful. But you shouldn’t have walked off alone. I’m glad you found me.”

“Why?” 

“Because it’s not safe for you to walk around alone in the grocery store, Ellie,” you smile. “Let’s go find your dad.”

Ellie nods, her cheeks ruddy and when you hold out your hand for her to hold, Ellie’s little hand wraps around two of your fingers. “Did you come to the grocery store alone? It’s not safe.”

“I did come alone. But I’m an adult, so it’s okay. You’re little, Ellie, so you should only walk around with your dad.” You lead Ellie down aisle after aisle, walking past canned food and bags of chips and walls lined with bottles of drinks. 

“But you shouldn’t walk around alone if it’s dangerous. When we find my daddy maybe he can protect you too!” Ellie says confidently. 

When did this grocery store feel so big? You can’t find Dr. Reid anywhere, and you feel a rising panic in your chest. You have half a mind to pull up the school’s contact information in your phone, but you hear Dr. Reid’s voice calling his daughter’s name, and both you and Ellie turn around.

“Daddy!” Ellie shrieks, almost dropping the box of cereal in her arms as she dashes toward her father. She almost trips as she closes the distance, thankfully landing in her father’s arms before she does fall. 

Dr. Reid scoops her up, holding her tightly. “You had me worried, sweetheart.”

“Sorry, Daddy,” Ellie mumbles against her father’s shoulder. “But I found Miss Y/N and she helped me find you!”

“I told her not to run off alone in the future,” you say. “Right, Ellie?” 

The sweet girl nods. She giggles into Dr. Reid’s shoulder, and his hand comes up to pat her back, a soothing gesture.

“I’m glad it was you she bumped into,” Dr. Reid says, sighing with relief. “I wouldn’t know I would do with myself if–”

“It’s okay, Dr. Reid,” you assure him. “It’s not a problem at all. You’re– You’re doing a great job with her.”

“Thank you for saying that. I– I’ll see you at the parent-teacher meeting next Friday, right?”

“Yeah, next Friday.” You smile at him. “Have a good day, Dr. Reid. Bye, Ellie!”

“Bye!” Ellie, sweet girl, waves excitedly, her gummy smile overtaking her face. Dr. Reid walks toward the checkout, holding Ellie with one hand and pushing his shopping cart with the other. 

You feel how warm your cheeks are when Dr. Reid and Ellie are finally out of sight, your hand clammy around the handle of your shopping basket. You slap your cheek lightly, willing yourself to pull yourself together.

The way your heart flutters whenever you see Dr. Reid is a cause for concern, and you wonder if you should see a doctor about it. 

Dr. Spencer Reid is a marvel. He’s admirable, juggling his job at the FBI with raising a little girl all on his own, and he’s both a great profiler and a great dad. He’s incredibly sweet with Ellie and incredibly kind to you, which you unfortunately don’t get a lot, especially with the kinds of parents you deal with. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome: his hair is slightly long, wavy and messy in a way that frames his face just right, not to mention the stubble that makes him look that much hotter.

Your little crush on Dr. Reid is certainly inappropriate, but over the parent-teacher meetings and interacting with him when he drops off and picks up his daughter from school, you can’t help yourself from falling for him. 

Tuesday

Ellie Reid is a smart girl, that you know, but you're blindsided by her genius one day at recess. You’re monitoring all the kids at the playground when Ellie comes up to you. She has a contorted look on her face but she says, “Miss Y/N, I fell.”

“You did? Are you feeling okay?” You ask, squatting down to match her height. You look at her knees – not a speck of dirt nor a red spot from falling down.

“My knee hurts. Can you call my daddy?”

“Does it hurt badly? I’ll take you to see the nurse if it does,” you say, not entirely understanding the situation. You’ve never met a four-year-old who wouldn’t be in tears over tripping and falling, even if the injury wasn’t severe. 

The look on Ellie’s face makes you think that she’s trying to match your expectations of what she should be feeling. “It doesn't hurt bad. I just want my daddy to come pick me up. Can you call him?”

You try not to furrow your brow at the strange request. You’re usually trusted to handle any little accidents and mishaps with the children, but at Ellie’s insistence of calling her father, you feel like you should. 

(It’s certainly not spurred on by seeing him at the grocery store last weekend.)

“Alright, Ellie. I’ll call your dad and see what he says, okay?”

“Okay, Miss Y/N,” Ellie says, smiling at you. You get her to sit down on the bench next to you and your co-teacher to oversee the kids before fish your phone out from your pocket to dial Dr. Reid’s number. As you wait for the call to go through, Ellie looks at you with wide, expectant eyes. You smile at her.

On the third ring, Dr. Reid picks up. “Hello?” 

“Hi, Dr. Reid. This is Miss Y/N from Ellie’s school. I’m calling to inform you that Ellie fell on the playground during recess.”

“Oh, my. Is she alright?” You hear Dr. Reid’s voice grow concerned. Ellie looks up at you, and you look the little girl up and down one more time just to be sure.

“Yes, she is. I checked and she doesn’t have any scrapes or bruises. She says her knee hurts, but that she’s also fine. Usually, we don’t call parents over small mishaps like this, but Ellie insisted that I call you.”

“I see,” Dr. Reid hums, his tone indecipherable. “Can I talk to her?”

“Sure thing, Dr. Reid,” you say. You hold the phone out to Ellie as you put the call on speakerphone and tell her, “Your dad wants to speak to you, Ellie.”

Ellie is polite, but clearly excited as she yells, “Hi, Daddy!” 

“Woah! Hi, Ellie,” Dr. Reid laughs, his serious tone while he was speaking to you gone, talking to his daughter with a delightful whimsy. “Miss Y/N told me you fell on the playground today. Does it hurt?”

“No,” Ellie answers, but she looks up quickly at you. “I mean, yes. Just a little. It doesn’t hurt too bad anymore.”

You hide your smile, and you think you can hear the smile in Dr. Reid’s voice as he says, “Okay, sweet girl, that’s good.”

“Can you come and pick me up right now, Daddy?” Ellie asks, a little whiny. It’s adorable, though. 

“Well, it’s only ten in the morning, honey,” Dr. Reid bargains. “And I know you have art class later, right? Don’t you want to stay around for that?”

“I do!” Ellie says eagerly. “Oh, I love art class!”

“I know you do, honey,” Dr. Reid assures. “So, do you feel okay enough to stick around in class until Daddy comes to pick you up at the end of the day?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Ellie nods, even though Dr. Reid can’t see her. “But you have to come pick me up!”

“I always do, Ellie,” Dr. Reid laughs, making Ellie laugh along too. “Okay, honey. Go on and play with your friends. I’ll see you later.”

“Okay! Bye, Daddy! I love you!”

“Bye! I love you too, Ellie!” Dr. Reid matches Ellie’s excitable energy, and Ellie giggles before she runs off to play again. His voice returns to a calm but engaged sort of energy. “Well, that was something.”

“She seems fine,” you say, switching the speakerphone off as you hold your phone back up to your ear. “I’m sorry to bother you in the middle of your work day, Dr. Reid.”

“Oh, please, it’s not a bother at all,” Dr. Reid laughs gently. “I love talking to Ellie. She might miss me or something, if she had to fake a fall so you would call me.”

“Perhaps,” you say, slightly surprised that Dr. Reid would be so quick to call out his daughter’s bluff. Some of the other parents would rip your throat out if you even insinuated their child was in the wrong. “I’ll still keep an eye out for her.”

“Thanks, Miss Y/N,” Dr. Reid insists. “Besides, it’s always a pleasure getting a call from you.”

You don’t remember if you thank him before he hangs up, because all you can think about is Dr. Reid saying he enjoys talking to you.

After putting your phone away, you press your hands to your warm cheeks in an effort to calm yourself and your beating heart down. 

Dr. Reid is one of the last parents to come by during pickup. It’s a somewhat regular occurrence, with Dr. Reid’s busy and hectic job. You are never bothered by spending extra time with Ellie, and you know Dr. Reid always tries his best to pick Ellie up as soon as he can. He usually makes regular pickup so you never get to exchange more than a few words with him, but days like today aren’t necessarily rare either. But considering your interaction on Sunday, you’re secretly pleased with how it’s worked out. 

Only you and Ellie are left in the classroom, you having told your co-teacher to clock out first. You’re pleasantly surprised when there’s a knock on the door frame, Dr. Reid standing there in a cardigan and a button-up shirt with his dress pants. “Ellie!”

His hair is somehow more fluffy and messy than you’d seen him at the grocery store, but it just makes him look even more soft and domestic. You try not to look at Dr. Reid with hearts in your eyes as Ellie shrieks and runs towards him, Dr. Reid picking her up easily and swinging her around before he holds her tight. “Hi, sweet girl.”

“Daddy!” Ellie giggles. “I missed you today.”

“I missed you too, honey,” Dr. Reid coos, pressing a kiss to the top of Ellie’s head. Your insides melt, gooey at the tooth-rottingly sweet display in front of you. “Were you a good girl for Miss Y/N today?”

“Uh-huh!” Ellie nods, her gummy smile absolutely adorable. 

“She was a pleasure,” you add. “Hello, Dr. Reid.”

“Hello again.” Dr. Reid smiles. “It’s nice to see you. Are you doing well?”

“Yes, I am. Other than Ellie’s little incident, today was thankfully uneventful. Thank you for asking.”

Dr. Reid’s face scrunches up in an extremely endearing way, like it’s obvious that he’d want to know about… you. “Of course. I like to know you’re doing well. It’s great to hear.”

You feel like you don’t know what to say to that, perhaps a little too caught up in your little crush on him to come up with a coherent response. You laugh shyly, tucking your hair behind your ear. Dr. Reid has set Ellie down, and she wanders around the classroom, fidgeting with the pencils on the tables, but doesn’t stray too far from her dad. “Ellie seems to be fine from earlier, but you might want to check in with her again.”

“I will,” Dr. Reid says, nodding. “Oh! I almost forgot–”

You look on as Dr. Reid fumbles in his satchel, pulling a crumpled paper bag out. The paper bag looks bulky, oil stains seeped through on the sides and on the bottom. “Oh, it looks bad. It’s good, I promise– It’s a chocolate muffin from this really good bakery near my office. I just thought I’d get you one. Since you’re so helpful with Ellie. Especially today.”

Dr. Reid holds it out for you, and you scramble to step forward and take it. “Thank you, Dr. Reid, you- You didn’t have to. It’s my job to look after Ellie, after all. Not that it’s a burden, or just a job, I mean– Ellie’s great. She’s one of our brightest, but don’t tell any of the other parents that.”

Dr. Reid smiles so bright you feel like you could feel the warmth radiating from him. “I won’t, if I bump into any of them at the parent-teacher meeting.”

You bite your lip, smiling, shy at the attention Dr. Reid gives you. You think he’s flirting(?) with you, but you try to remain professional. You clear your throat. “Thank you, Dr. Reid.” 

“Thank you again, Miss Y/N. I mean it.” Dr. Reid asserts, and you feel your cheeks flush. “Tonight is pizza night, so Ellie and I should be making our way home right about now.”

“Pizza!” Ellie yells, giddy, causing both you and Dr. Reid to laugh. She zooms past you to stand next to her dad. 

“Thank you, Dr. Reid. I’ll see you proper on Friday,” you say, nodding your head slightly. “And I’ll see you, Ellie, tomorrow, yeah?”

“Bye, Miss Y/N!” Ellie waves frantically. Dr. Reid joins her in her waving, equally silly. 

“I look forward to seeing you then, Miss Y/N,” Dr. Reid smiles. “Bye.”

“Bye!” you reply, trying not to sound too eager, and then Dr. Reid ducks out of the classroom with Ellie in hand. You feel like you’re swooning so hard you might faint.

Friday

Parent-teacher meetings go smoothly, thankfully. There are parents who only bother to hear the praise you give their children, so ignorant to the criticisms of their children that you try not to make too obvious. After seeing nineteen sets of parents, Dr. Spencer Reid is your last of the day. You don’t want to say you’ve been waiting for this all day, but checking off the nineteen sets of parents before this has only made you more and more excited. 

Dr. Reid finally enters the classroom, two minutes early for his slot, but he’s alone. 

“Where’s Ellie? She’s totally allowed to sit in for these meetings too.”

“She’s at my boss’ place for a playdate with his son,” Dr. Reid says. “Actually, that sounds pretty weird, doesn’t it? My daughter, having a playdate with my boss’ son?”

“Not at all. They say it takes a village to raise a child. I’m glad your colleagues are so helpful with Ellie.”

“They really are,” Dr. Reid asserts, smiling. “Hotch– My boss, I mean– offered, knowing I had this meeting.”

“That’s really nice of him,” you nod. “So, about Ellie…”

“Please tell me you only have good things to say,” Dr. Reid jokes, and you try very hard not to swoon. 

“Essentially, yes,” you nod. “Ellie is such a bright girl, and she’s so sweet. She’s always helpful with her classmates and polite to everyone and the teachers too. Again, don’t tell this to the other parents, but Ellie’s set high standards for the rest of the class.”

“You’re telling me an awful lot that I shouldn’t be telling the other parents,” Dr. Reid grins. “You sure you aren’t playing favourites?”

“You certainly are my favourite,” you say before you can catch yourself, and Dr. Reid looks at you with wide eyes. You imagine you look equally shocked. “I’m sorry, Dr. Reid, I didn't mean to say that.”

Dr. Reid cocks his head, a little smile toying on his lips. “Miss Y/N, did I ever tell you what I do for the FBI?”

You have no idea how this relates to how unprofessional and inappropriate you are being. You shake your head anyway, too afraid to say anything anymore before you say something even more embarrassing. 

“I’m a profiler, Miss Y/N. I use psychology and study behaviour to catch serial killers,” Dr. Reid explains, using his hands to articulate his point. Your eyes dart down to the motion; but your gaze quickly flits back up to his face. “In general, I’m good at reading people.”

“Is that so?” You gulp. Is he able to read you?

“I don’t mean to profile you, Miss Y/N, I mean it,” Dr. Reid sounds a little apologetic. “But I can’t help but notice the way you lean toward me when we’re speaking, the way you fidget with your hands a little, the way you can almost meet my eyes, but you still seem a little bashful about it. I either intimidate you, or…”

“Or..?” 

“I’m sorry if this is too forward, but would you like to get dinner with me?”

“What?” You ask, disbelieving. “Dinner?”

“You- You’re interested in me too, aren’t you?”

“Too?” You gape, sounding like a parrot as you repeat his words, simply unable to wrap your head around the fact that Ellie Reid’s young, hot, genius father just asked you on a date. 

“I’m usually not too doubtful of my profiling skills, but beautiful women like you make me second-guess if I’m reading this right.” Dr. Reid laughs, avoiding looking at you. 

“Dr. Reid, I would love to get dinner with you,” You say, trying to sound confident. 

Dr. Reid beams as he meets your eyes. “Oh, thank God.”

“Cheesy that you’re calling me beautiful,” you laugh bashfully, waving him off. 

“I mean it!” Dr. Reid insists. “And, um– Would you want to do dinner after this? If you don’t have any other meetings, of course. Or any other plans– you’d probably have plans on a Friday night, right? Way to be presumptuous–”

“Dr. Reid! I don’t have plans tonight. A dinner date sounds great,” you laugh.

“Great! Great, good. I’m glad.” Dr. Reid says, looking a little giddy that you’d taken him up on it. “Also, um- I love when people call me Dr. Reid, but please just call me Spencer. Do you think people would get the wrong idea if you called me Dr. the whole time?” 

You cackle, Spencer looking thoroughly pleased at making you laugh. 

“Okay, Spencer,” you try his first name, and it rolls off your tongue with ease. “Let me pack up and then we can go get dinner.”

“I like when you say my name,” Spencer smiles. “What’re you feeling for dinner?”

If you and Spencer kiss at the end of your dinner date in front of your apartment door, that’s between you and him. 

You pulling Spencer into your apartment with your hands fisted in his hair should also stay between you and him. 

It doesn’t entirely stay between you and him, though, as Spencer calls his boss to turn Ellie’s playdate into a sleepover before he rolls over to kiss you and take you all over again. 

[brattyspence]

sober thoughts | s.reid

summary: pining!reader makes a drunk call to spencer after going out with friends, and is aggressively trying to flirt with him. 

tags: reader is DRUNK! alcohol!! dont read if thats not okay!!, fluffy as fuck, spencer is the most gentle of gentlemen, pining!reader, reader wears makeup/dress/heels, spencer is lowkey bad at flirting but he shows affection in weird ways, one use of Y/N (sorry i know)

a/n: this has been bouncing around in my head for a while. sigh.

word count: 1.9k

masterlist

He was used to seeing you tipsy, if that was even the right word for it. 

You were friends, after all. Best friends, even. And the fact that he lived only a few doors down from the pub the team frequented made it stupid not to offer his couch to you after going out with the team. 

You weren’t a heavy drinker by any stretch of the imagination. Every now and then on a Friday night, you’d head out with the team and have one, maybe two drinks if you were feeling particularly adventurous–but you still didn’t want to drive home, especially when he was offering his home to you. Truthfully, you just liked getting to hang out with him. You liked getting to exist in his orbit and discuss a random topic late into the night. It had become normal for you, an excuse to do something together that didn’t revolve around work. 

What was not normal was the fact that it was a Saturday at 11 PM and you were really drunk, calling him. 

Your contact photo filled his screen, illuminating the dark room. You weren’t one to call, preferring the convenience of a text. Especially this late, which worried him a bit. He picked up quickly, tucking the phone to his ear.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Hey, Spencer?” It wasn’t your voice. “This is Molly, Y/N’s friend. I’m sorry to call so late. We’re out with some friends from college celebrating someone’s birthday, and she got… like, drunk drunk, kinda sloppy… and she’s been blabbing about you for a while. She wanted me to call you.”

“Oh,” he sighs. He runs a hand through his hair, preparing himself. “Can you put her on?”

“Yeah. Not sure you’ll get anything out of her, though. Here…”

He can hear the general chatter and chaos of the bar over the call. There’s some rustling sounds before you finally take the phone.

“Hi,” you say, your voice dripping with a certain kind of fondness. He can hear the smile through the screen. 

“Hey,” he replies. ”You having fun?”

“Oh, Spencer, I was… I haven’t heard your voice in so long. What’re you…” you trail off, lifting the phone from your ear to answer someone else. “Sorry. ‘S so loud in here.

He chuckles to himself. “I saw you yesterday.”

“Yeah, ‘nd that was… Oh, I can’t do math right now. A long time ago.”

“Are you okay?”

On the other side of town, you were sitting in a barstool, swiping your finger along the beads of condensation rolling down the glass of water in front of you. 

“Mhm. ‘M good. Fine. Drunk.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” he smiles. “Are you gonna be able to get home?”

“Uhh…” you pause. “I was gonna Uber… but then I thought that maybe… if you weren't busy… we could hang out…” 

He could vaguely make out dialog on the other end of the phone. Some kind of “Girl, this sounds really pathetic,” followed by a “Shhhh!” in two other drunken voices.

“But I could also make Molly order me an Uber,” you added. “‘S okay. Nevermind.”

“No, you're not getting in an Uber inebriated. That’s ridiculous.”

“‘M not inebriated.”

A background voice comes back. “Yeah, you are.”

Spencer sighs into the phone. “Just… send me your location, please? I’ll come get you.”

“O-kay. ‘M sending it right now, jus’ tell me when you-”

The call went dead before you could finish your thought, which he chalked up to some kind of drunken user error. A few seconds later a text came through 

You: dropped a pin

You: its molly again. let me know if you got this

He responded, relieved that you had someone looking after you, before getting ready and grabbing his keys. 

-

You were sitting on a bench outside the bar. The air was cool and crisp, but you were warm, your skin clammy from the alcohol. You had been mumbling something incoherent about Spencer, he’s just so good to me, Molly, and oh, god, I don’t know what to do with myself, and…

Molly, who had been trying to sober you up (unsuccessfully), was standing in front of you, arms crossed, listening to your incessant rambling.

“...’nd sometimes he talks to me, ‘nd I have no idea what he’s talking about but he’s so hot when he’s smart. You should hear, it, Mol’.”

Cars pass on the street behind you, filling the silence momentarily. Molly looks over her shoulder, scanning the street before turning back to you. “Alright. Be quiet. He’s here” 

“Don’t care.”

She puts her hand out to help you up, which you accept rising to your feet. You’re surprised by how unsteady you feel, but you focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

“I’ll make fun of you for this tomorrow,” she says. 

You only have a few seconds to grumble in protest before Spencer reaches you. He scans you quickly, chuckling to himself.

“You are a mess,” he says, amused. 

You feel slightly infantilized watching Molly hand over all your personal effects to him. You weren’t even sure when you’d put down your wallet and keys, much less where, but you’re thankful she picked them up and not someone else.

“Good luck,” She tells him. She pats your arm before turning back to the bar, leaving you alone on the street with him. 

“You okay?” He asks. You watch him shuck off his jacket, which he helps you slide over your arms.

“‘M fine,” you reply. “Warm.”

“Because you’re drunk.” He keeps his eyes trained on the zipper of the jacket, or really anywhere that isn't you in that dress. “Alcohol is a vasodilator. So you feel warm. But it's forty degrees outside, and hypothermia doesn't care.”

You pout at him, watching as he pulls the zipper tab up enough to shield you from the cold. Only then does he really look at you. 

“I wanted you to see my pretty dress,” you pout. Your words come out slurred still. 

You meet his eyes for a split second. He opens his mouth, seemingly about to reply, but quickly decides against it. He shakes his head as if to clear the thought.

“Come on. We gotta get you home.” 

“You don't like it?” 

“I didn't say that.” He tucks a hand under your arm as you begin back down the street, keeping you steady. 

“So you do like it?” You look over at him, your face more excited than he was expecting. 

“It’s very pretty,” he replies.

Your shoulder bumps his as you walk, seemingly unable to maintain a straight path along the sidewalk. The click of your heels against the pavement is uneven, despite your efforts to maintain some kind of composure, and unfortunately for you, he’s right, and it's freezing outside. You make steady progress down the block, placing all your focus on not falling flat on your face. Thankfully, he doesn't live all that far.

“D’you think I look pretty, too?” You ask, approaching the steps to his apartment.

“What are you trying to do?” he asks, looking down at you. He takes in the slight flush of your cheeks as the effects of the alcohol battle the chill in the air.

“I’m trying to flirt with you. And you didn’t answer my question.”

“Oh, you're going to be difficult all night, aren't you?” He sighs, ignoring the question. He pauses outside the door, keys in hand, and unlocks the door before guiding you inside. 

“You don't ever want to flirt with me.”

The door falls shut behind you with a clunk. The room is dark, with only the distant light from a lamp somewhere across the room illuminating it. You squint when he turns on the big light.

“That’s not true,” he says, quietly. If you weren’t hanging on to his every word, you might have missed it. He carefully unzips the jacket, tugging it off your shoulders and setting it on the table.

“So why won’t you flirt with me right now?” 

“Because you’re drunk,” He guides you towards the couch, his touch still careful as ever. 

You flop down onto the cushions. The leather sticks to your legs as you sit. Being the gentleman he is, he has already left pajamas out, his pajamas, you’d since claimed as your own, with the blanket you steal every time you stay over. 

“So what?” You begin working at the clasp on your heels, fumbling with the leather straps to no avail. 

“So, you’re drunk.” He repeats, reappearing in front of you. He sits on the edge of the coffee table in front of you, and hands you a pack of makeup wipes. “Do you need help with your shoes?” 

You nod. A soft breath of laughter escapes him as he leans in to help you take them off, setting them on the carpeted floor. 

“Spence,” you look at the pack of wipes. “Why do you have these?”

“Because every time you’re here you forget them,” he replies. 

“Oh.” You rip them open. “You don’t have a secret girlfriend?”

“No,” he replies, lowering your foot back to the ground. 

“You don't let other drunk girls sleep over?” You paw at your eyeliner, effectively smearing it around more than removing it. 

“I don't let anyone sleep over,” he says, taking the wipe from you. “Just you. Close your eyes.”

“Because you love me?” 

His fingers find the underside of your chin, gently tilting your face towards his so he can finish swiping away the last of your eyeliner. Maybe you’re blushing as a result of the alcohol warming your bloodstream, but the more likely answer is him, at this proximity. 

As soon as he’s done wiping your eyes, you open them again to look up at him. 

“You’re bold when you’re drunk,” he says, smiling. He sets the used wipe down on the table.

“Mhm. You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m not going to,” He says. “Sorry. Go get changed.”

“That wasn’t a ‘no’,” you say. You collect the clothes off the couch and slink across the apartment into the bathroom to change. You don’t bother shutting the bathroom door before slinking off the dress you were wearing and sliding on the pajamas he’d left for you. Once you finish, you collect your dress off the floor and make your way back towards the couch, settling right into the cushions as you frequently did on nights like this. 

You were formulating another complaint about his lack of reciprocation, but your thoughts were interrupted as he pulled the blanket on his couch over you. Your blanket, or at least one you’d claimed as your own during one of your nights spent here. He had already turned off the ceiling fan, which you’d always insisted off when you slept over. You followed him with your gaze as he turned the lights off, swapping them instead for a smaller, softer light somewhere in the kitchen, remembering the way you’d always insisted he leave a light on somewhere, just for you. Your phone was already charging on a side table, your heels sitting nicely by the door, your keys on his key holder, evidence of you, everywhere, details that were distinctly for your comfort. Maybe you had missed his signals. 

“I think you do love me…” 

He reappeared a moment later, crouching in front of you with that look. He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “Go to sleep.”

“And I love you. And I called you because I wanted to tell you that.” 

“You really need to sleep it off. You’re saying things you don’t mean.”

“But I do mean it,” you whined. “I swear. Ask me again tomorrow.”

“You won’t remember this tomorrow,” he laughed. 

“But I will. I promise,” you replied. “No bedtime kiss?”

Of course, this time you did pick up the way he looked at you. 

“No, honey. Maybe tomorrow.”

[wriokitty]

part two

Starting an internship at the company Satoru’s father owns but you don’t know who he is just yet.

He’s annoying. He always comes back from lunch late, lets his phone ring at his desk (that’s conveniently placed next to yours) past the three ring policy, writes emails with silly and immature sign-offs, cracks jokes during meetings, and somehow, despite always finishing his paperwork late, he never manages to lose his damn job.

You try to mind your own business. But you can’t help but feel him slowly grate at your nerves as he acts so unprofessional and for some weird reason, not one person seems to care.

He seems pretty intrigued with you, too, if matters couldn’t get worse.

“Hey,” he grins. You try to ignore the tilt of his lips in amusement as you just barely fight off rolling your eyes.

“Can I help you with something?” You sigh, “I’m currently in the middle of something that requires my full attention, but maybe we could—”

“You really love your office jargon,” he hums, cutting you off with a wider grin, “so dedicated.”

“Oh, my apologies,” you smile tightly. He seems to straighten a little, some sick, twisted form of excitement rushing through his system at the way he seems to get under your skin. “Allow me to use simpler language for you to understand: go away, I’m busy.”

Someone has to stand up to this prick, you think. He puts in half the effort, and somehow, you’re pretty sure your boss has a soft spot for him. You don’t understand it, and quite frankly, you’ll be damned if a lazy, lackluster man snags a promotion before your hardworking self.

“Oh wow,” he snorts, “breaking your strictly professional streak, are you? You must be really occupied. I guess I’ll borrow your stapler later.”

Gritting your teeth, you give him yet another tight lipped smile before grabbing the stapler off your desk and handing it to him. (A small part of you resists the urge to throw it square at his face. Maybe the image of him on the floor with a bloodied nose would make your day a little easier, but then you’re sure you’d be jobless).

“Here you go,” you say with as much kindness as you can muster. (It’s not a lot). “Please do bring it back when you’re done. Some of us actually complete paper work, so the stapler is a necessity.”

“Oh yeah?” He tilts his head, eyes sparkling with mischief, “don’t worry, I won’t hold your stapler hostage for too long. I wouldn’t want to disrupt the flow of your productivity.”

You watch with wary eyes as he walks back to his desk, stapling some small, tiny note of sorts before walking right back, handing the paper and the stapler to you.

“What’s this?” You raise a brow.

“Some paper work for you to fill out,” he grins, the vagueness of his answer making a vein all but pop in your forehead.

Before you even have a chance to tell him that you most certainly will not be entertaining whatever silly prank he’s playing, he walks right off, sagging into his chair as he does an obnoxious little spin and goes back to typing at his computer. Probably yet another email with a ridiculous ending, you think to yourself.

Against your better judgement, you stare at the note, eyeing the small flap he’s stapled over an index card. You lift it up, quickly scanning over his scribbled writing.

Want to grab coffee during lunch? Check your answer:

▢ yes! ▢ absolutely! ▢ most definitely!

Your eye twitches.

Grabbing a pen, you quickly add a box underneath his (very confident) options, checking it off and writing in neat, pristine handwriting:

▣ not a chance!

You stand, walking over to his desk and ignoring his perked up, excited little smile as you drop the note back on the table and head back to your own desk. A tiny wave of satisfaction weaves through your body when you notice him read over your response and deflate, a small pout forming over his lips.

Regretfully, a small part of you can’t help but acknowledge that he’s actually…kind of cute when his lips are curled like that. But a larger part of you shakes that thought away and cringes internally. It’s a shame his personality ruins the genetic blessings he seems to have been bestowed with.

And you think that’s the end of it—but of course, with someone like Satoru in the office, there’s never the end of anything.

You watch as an email pops up on your screen, opening it only to stare blankly at his name and roll your eyes at the subject line:

────────────────────────

Follow-Up on Submitted Paperwork

Greetings office neighbor,

Thank you for submitting the paperwork. Unfortunately, I couldn’t help but notice that it does not fully align with the outlined guidelines. Could you please provide clarification or revise the submission accordingly?

Thanks a million,

Gojo Satoru :)

────────────────────────

And there he goes again with those obnoxious sign-offs, you think bitterly. Instantly, you’re clicking away at your keyboard as you type back an agitated response. Of course, you really shouldn’t entertain his ridiculous schemes, but something about him gets under your skin enough that you simply can’t help yourself.

You huff in approval at your response as you read it over before hitting send.

Instantly, as if he was waiting, you see his hand reach for his mouse and click on his screen to open your email as his eyes scan over your reply:

────────────────────────

Thank you for reaching out,

Unfortunately, I was unable to fully adhere to the outlined guidelines, as they are not viable in this situation. To address this, I adjusted the submission to align more effectively with a more practical outcome.

Hope that helps!

Your office neighbor :)

────────────────────────

Just when you think he’s given up, he rolls his chair over to your desk, causing a couple of annoyed heads to tilt up and glare at him for the noise before turning their attention back to their work. You pinch your nose as his chair rolls to a stop in front of your desk.

“Yes?” You grit through your teeth.

“Hey, office neighbor,” he hums, “just wanted to clarify your most recent email with you. I’m a bit confused.”

“Which part confused you?” You bat your lashes in faux charm, sarcastically smiling at him as he hums, grabbing a piece of candy from your little bowl of sweets at your desk and helping himself.

Your eye twitches a little at the gesture. Those are for you to enjoy throughout a miserable work day.

“Um…” he trails off as he pretends to think, “I’d say all of it.”

“I see,” you nod slowly, fighting every bone in your body not to snap at him with a colorful choice of words. “Essentially, the options in your original document did not highlight a plausible set of deliverables, so I corrected them for you with a more realistic one. Make sense?”

“Not really,” he sighs dramatically, pretending to scratch his head in confusion. You want nothing more than to grab those snowy locks and slam his face into your paper shredder. “Could you go over it one more time? I’m still lost.”

You’re just about to lose your patience with him when suddenly, the entire office seems to collectively take in a sharp breath, everyone scrambling to look as productive as possible while a tall, older looking man with suspiciously familiar white hair and blue eyes walks through the office. Something in your brain sets off alarm bells, but you can’t quite completely piece it together what it is about him seems so….recognizable.

“Who’s that?” You frown, scrunching your nose in confusion as everyone straightens up.

“That would be the final boss,” he snorts. You roll your eyes at his word choice before blinking and straightening up yourself.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, voice a panicked whisper as you ask, “you mean the owner of this company?”

“Yeah,” he drawls, raising a brow at you in amusement. “Never seen him before?”

“No,” you hiss, “I’m just the intern! Now go back to your desk before he thinks we’re goofing off, I’d like to keep my job, please.”

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” he hums.

You send him a nasty glare, just about at your wits end as you whisper-yell, “I am going to throw my stapler right at your—”

“Satoru, I need you in my office,” comes a stern, deep voice, interrupting you as you quickly shut your mouth.

“You got it, old man,” he salutes in mock seriousness. Suddenly, your spine goes rigid and your eyes widen. The man walks off with a firm nod as Satoru stands, giving you an innocent smile.

Suddenly, it dawns on you just why he looked so strikingly familiar.

“Did you just call him old man?” You blink, mouth agape.

“Yup,” he winks, walking backwards as his eyes stay trained on you while he heads for the elevator. “I’ll put in a good word for you when he’s in a better mood at home tonight. I think we can discuss the specifics over coffee during our lunch hour, yeah?”

[ttjisung]

POISON p. jisung

idol!park jisung x fan!reader

in which you were convinced ndas were simply a made up concept for fangirls to get off to, that was until you you were asked to go backstage at jisung's request.

cw: mdni! smut, fem!reader, fingering, oral (f receiving), spit, p in v, protected sex :3, slight angst, jisung is down bad, overstimulation, everything is consented to!!! ^_^ i think that's all... for now. wc: (3.4k)

You were in a lucid dream. You were sure that was it – a very realistic dream in which the concert staff approached you with a request to wait until after the encore, and then follow them backstage.

Being honest, you weren’t even aware that NDA’s truly existed, labeling them as a made-up fangirl fantasy; yet here you were, in your light green and quite revealing outfit, waiting for further instruction from the two security guards that found you when you took a small bathroom break between the group’s wardrobe changes. 

Had it not been for the way your hands slightly trembled, you might’ve been able to appear confident. You wanted to look brave, because a small part of your brain told you that if you showed any anxiety, you’d be denied. The thought faded as your heartbeat quickened, recognizing Poison playing in the background. Strangely enough, NCT Dream decided to end their concert with that song, although they had already performed it once before already. Any other time, you’d be grateful considering Poison was your favorite, yet observing the members dance sensually in the black and red outfits only worsened your state, as the reality kicked in that one of them requested for you to join them backstage to do only God knows what. 

Several questions ran through your mind, the main one being who? Who of the seven had spotted you jumping along in your floor seat and decided they wanted to see you after they finished up. Truthfully – and maybe embarrassingly – you wouldn’t mind any of them. Had it been any other band, you’re sure you would’ve only desired your favorite member, yet that was what made Dream so unique: all of them were perfect. That being said, your mind immediately jumped to members like Jaemin and Haechan, who were known for being flirts. It would only make sense that the more extroverted ones would be the type to do such a thing. 

Lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t realized the concert had ended until the venue’s lights turned on and the loud buzz of the fans slowly faded out. You flinched as someone tapped your shoulder, looking around and coming face to face with one of the security guards you had met earlier, who nodded his head in the direction of the stage. “They’re back there. Let’s go.” Although your eyes were wide with shock and your skin had goosebumps, you simply followed closely behind. It wasn’t until you were led to a changing room door that the reality kicked in – you were about to meet one of your idols, and by the sound of the guards’ words, meeting wouldn’t be all you’d be doing. 

“Alright, I’ll leave now. Just knock when you’re ready, he’s already in there.” Your curiosity mixed with your anxiety at the mention of a certain ‘him’, and once the guard was gone and your nerves calmed down, you lifted your hand to knock. 

Not even three seconds later, the door opened, revealing the member who you had never expected. “Um… Hi… Come on in.” Jisung’s voice stumbled, awkwardly stepping aside to make space for you. This was weird – he truly never even crossed your mind. It’s not like you thought any of the members were innocent, they were all attractive, famous grown men. You weren’t delusional enough to believe they were inexperienced, but for some reason this seemed completely out of character for the tall male who nervously observed you as you stepped inside the room. 

“I’m not sure if they told you why I asked for you.” You shook your head, too dazed by the shock of meeting one of your favorite celebrities, alongside the reveal that Park Jisung of all people was sending NDAs to lucky fans – the realization that you were one of said fans hadn’t even kicked in yet. 

“I-I assume it’s because of… you know.” Hearing your voice grounded Jisung, who was relieved that you were nervous as well, and it wasn’t just him. Although not public knowledge, his fellow members were notorious for sleeping with fans, making him the only one who hadn’t yet. He didn’t think it was his style, too awkward to bravely invite someone like that, yet his mind changed when he saw you. 

You looked so pretty, singing along to his parts, dancing like no one else was there but you and him. You were alone, not accompanied by any friend or relative, making it even easier to avoid suspicion when the guards would approach you. There were doubts in his mind up until mid-concert, yet they faded quickly when he saw you recording him and him only during the first performance of Poison. That had to mean something, right? Surely you wouldn’t mind meeting him after, if you were so focused on him during one of the most inappropriate songs on the setlist. 

Jisung snapped out of it as you shifted tensely, looking away from him with a red face as you waited for him to answer. He found it endearing – you were so shy, even shier than him. He was glad, not wanting to embarrass himself in front of you had you been bold and initiated contact immediately. 

“We don’t have to, if you don’t want- I just… You’re really, ummm…” He cursed himself mentally for stumbling, shaking his head and breathing heavily before looking you straight in your eyes with a renowned confidence. If you weren’t, then he’d have to take control of the situation. Picking himself back up, he took a step closer to you, “You’re so pretty, and I couldn’t let you leave.”

You were shocked to hear his change of tone, looking up at him as you processed the words he let out. He thought you were pretty. Your manual breathing now matched the slight tremble of your hands, and you still felt like you were dreaming. Naturally, him inviting you back here was more than enough of an implication to his attraction, yet to hear it up front and coming out of Jisung’s mouth felt different – it felt good. 

“Thank you… I’m a really big fan.” Jisung smiled at your words; obviously you were or you wouldn’t be here, but he chose not to tease you, just nodding and looking at your eyes. “What’s your name?” “It’s Y/n.” He hummed in acknowledgement, moving slightly closer once more, furthering the height difference between you two as he looked down at you in admiration.

You’re not sure if you missed when he was being shy or not. On one hand, he probably wouldn’t make many moves if he stayed reserved, yet with his new self-assured act, you felt immensely overwhelmed by every action of his. 

It wasn’t until Jisung’s hand lightly grazed against yours that you let out a small gasp, shocked by the physical contact, his skin on yours making it all too real. “I…” His words stumbled like before, yet he shook his head, regathering his thoughts and restating what he had said before. “If you don’t want to, we don’t have to do anything– I like meeting fans regardless… But I really want you.” The whispered confession at the end that slipped from his mouth was enough motivation for you to finally make your first move, shocking both him and yourself as you moved closer, leaning in and placing your lips on his. 

Not leaving any time for doubt or hesitance, Jisung quickly reciprocated, placing a large hand of his on the back of your neck to push you even closer if possible. The kiss grew heavy as his other hand slipped behind your back and slightly up your mesh shirt, holding your bare waist. If there was a word to describe the scene, it’d be desperate, as his breathing became winded.

You moved your arms that laid limp on your side awkwardly to rest on his shoulders. One of your hands threaded through his hair, pulling it experimentally, and the light groan he let out at the feeling had your arousal growing, encouraging you to pull harder. The kiss became sloppy as he moved his tongue against yours, a small mix of spit falling down your lower lip, towards your chin. 

You pulled away first to catch your breath, yet Jisung chased after you, not wanting to stop. Choosing not to land his lips on yours this time, he opened his mouth, tongue coming out to lick the saliva from your face instead. The gasp that came out of you was interrupted as he moved North, once again engulfing your lips with his. The arm that was placed behind you gripped your waist, moving you alongside him as he moved both your bodies closer to a stray couch that laid in a corner of the small room. 

Jisung pulled his arms away from you for a second, sitting down first before pulling you on top of him. The new position had a heat pooling inside of you as you felt how hard he was, only growing harder as he shifted you so you’d be directly on top of his clothed dick. 

His knuckles were a harsh red color, raw from the strength he placed on your hips once he held you again. This time, instead of simply laying there, he put his hands to use, moving you against him. The friction made both of you release a soft moan, the sounds increasing from you as Jisung grew eager once more, this time leaning into your neck and sucking harshly. 

Out of instinct, your hands moved towards his hair, once again pulling it. Jisung faltered, letting out a sound that vibrated against your neck. His hands stilled for a second before continuing his actions. “Need you so bad, baby. ‘Been looking at you since the show started.” His desperate words clung to your mind, rambling as he grinded you against him, one particular tug against his covered erection causing you to shut your eyes closed in pleasure and anticipation. 

He felt and looked big, the fact that his dick was contained meaning it could only get bigger. Matching his desire, the image of it made you restless, needing to feel it in you. Your whines shifted slightly, sounding more needy, and Jisung took it upon himself to lift you off of him. He held your body with ease before placing you on the couch next to him. 

He was standing in front of your sitting figure now, appearing taller than ever, and the image slightly intimidated you, yet excited you as you saw him take his jacket off, throwing it on the floor. Your green skirt was next, tossed somewhere irrelevant as he kneeled in front of you, each hand on one of your thighs. He looked up at your face, admiring how pretty you looked – lips swollen, your hair a bit messy, and your cheeks flushed red. Returning his attention to your thighs, he looked back down, spreading them and moving closer. 

Jisung’s face matched your red one as he breathed over your clothed core, feeling as though he was in heaven. Feeling restless with desire, he finally moved his mouth over your panties. It was sloppier than the kiss, the arousal that soaked through the fabric meeting his spit, surely leaving a wet spot. Although his actions were eager, they were calculated, soon enough having you whimper as he attached himself to your clothed clit, moving his hands softly up and down your inner thighs – a contrast to his hips that were harshly bucking against the bottom of the couch, desperate for release. You tasted so good, the thought of how you’d taste with no barrier overwhelming Jisung’s mind until he finally pulled your panties down, being met with the view of your pussy. 

Almost in awe, he leaned in until both his nose and mouth were against you. The feeling of his direct touch caused you to move, instinctively shifting away from him, yet you weren’t able to get far before Jisung’s grip on your thighs grew, pulling you even closer back into him than you were originally. 

He was right – you did taste better. Feeling you twitch in his hold encouraged him, and he dove in, finding your clit almost immediately once again. One of his hands let go, yet moved back to hold you as you tried to wriggle away, overwhelmed with the pleasure. 

Jisung looked up at you, staring with an anguished expression until you maintained his eye contact. “Please… Don’t move, please.” You honestly weren’t trying to, you just weren’t used to the attention you were receiving; nonetheless, you nodded. Taking that as a signal to continue, he moved his head down, grazing his tongue against your folds as he attempted to move his hand away again, this time met with your compliance. 

The stray hand moved towards your core, using two of his long fingers to spread you open, gaining more access before moving against your hole. The wince that you released didn’t go unheard by Jisung, as he put more pressure on your clit to distract you from the slightly painful stretch of one of his fingers moving inside you, reaching knuckle-deep as he began to thrust in and out.

Blinded by all of the stimulation, you didn’t notice him adding a second finger until he began to stretch you out even further, mirroring a scissoring-motion. Jisung felt like he could cum simply from the feeling of your walls clenching around him. 

The feeling was overwhelming, and you could tell you were close. “W-Wait… Jisung… I’m gonna…” Your words were ragged, slightly panicked as you tried to move away once more. He moved his arm from your thigh to your stomach, pressing you down into the couch as he continued. “Ji… I’m gonna-” “It’s okay, baby. You can give me more than one, right?” His words sparked something in you, and before you knew it, you released. He kept thrusting his fingers inside of you, helping you ride out your high before you finally came down. Your breathing was uneven, and you looked at him through half-lidded eyes, basking in the feeling until he interrupted, standing up and taking his shirt off. His pants were unbuckled, pushed off of his legs with haste as he moved to hold you again.

Apparently self-conscious about the fact that you had come and Jisung hadn’t, you looked at his discarded pants before speaking up. “I can do the same… If you want.” He quickly shook his head, placing you on his lap again. “I just want to feel you, please.” You nodded, moving your hand down towards the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head – the tank top you had worn instead of a bra getting stuck with the mesh fabric and coming off as well. 

A whimper escaped Jisung as you revealed yourself to him, your tits right in front of his face, so full and inviting once you straddled him again. Not even bothering to hesitate, he quickly attached his mouth to your nipple, both hands stroking your lower back in soothing movements. You were growing needier and needier as he continued, desperately needing to feel him. You bucked against him, and his mouth released you to let out a whimper at the sensation. 

One hand let go of your back, pulling off his boxers until he was finally bare against you. You could feel him against your stomach, standing tall. A part of you was too nervous to look down and perceive it, yet the other, stronger part took over. His dick was prettier than any other you had seen, the tip slightly red from the blood rushing. 

The hand that remained on your back squeezed you in place as Jisung leaned over to grab a stray condom, probably one that fell out of the pocket of his pants. He moved the package up to your mouth, eyes intently looking at your lips, and you took the signal to bite the plastic, ripping it open for him. His fingers lingered on your lips for a bit, dazed and turned on by the sight, yet he quickly snapped out of it, moving the condom down and rolling it on himself. 

Once his hand became free of the rubber, Jisung’s arms lifted you up until you were hovering on top of him. Although you were on top, he felt a need to be in control, so he took it upon himself to move you, sinking you onto his dick which pulsed inside of you. The stretch was too much, and your mouth opened as a choked gasp came out, feeling every vein that ran up his shaft. You fell forward onto him, face landing on the crevice of his neck. It was clear you were a bit unprepared, shaking at the feeling of him, and Jisung grew concerned. He didn’t want this to end already, so he racked through his brain for another solution before finding one. “Go ahead, baby. Bite me.” One of his arms moved up to wrap around your neck like he did earlier, pushing you even further into his. 

You were scared you’d hurt him, clearly showing your hesitance, yet he continued to push you into him, so you caved. Your teeth grazed his neck until you were fully biting into him. Expecting Jisung to groan in pain or move away, you were shocked to hear the unholy moan that came from his mouth. He thrusted up into you unconsciously, unable to hold himself back any longer as you clenched around him, biting down on his neck harder every time his dick hit deeper. Reluctantly, you moved your mouth away from his neck, now blinded by the shifting pleasure as your stomach flipped. Both your moans echoed through the room as he bounced you on top of him.

His hand moved down from your neck to your clit, rolling circles to push you further over – succeeding as you came for the second time, collapsing onto him. Your head fell on his chest, and he held you there gently as he continued chasing his high, cumming with one last dragged out whine. 

You’re not sure if it was post-nut clarity, but after a minute of catching both of your breaths while he cradled your body you began to overthink. Jisung was a celebrity – no matter how good the sex might’ve been (and by the looks of him, it was good) he was on tour, leaving your city the day after.

Shaking your head, you ignored all the thoughts running through your head, choosing to enjoy the little time you had left with him instead of worrying. After another minute of weirdly romantic ‘cuddling’, Jisung lifted you up, placing you on the couch. He left for a bit, returning semi-clothed with a shirt of his in his hand. You recognized it as the shirt he was wearing at the encore when they said their goodbyes to the crowd. His other hand held a towel which he used to clean you up, movements exceptionally soft as you winced when he dipped the cloth lower. Once he finished, Jisung put the shirt on you. It was baggy, covering you until mid thigh.

“That was… It was really nice.” His timid voice came back as he stared at you, sitting on the floor next to the couch. You nodded, sitting up on the couch and facing him as well. “I’m sorry I can’t walk you out. The guards said I’m not allowed, but you can borrow my jacket if it’s cold.” 

You fought the disappointment rattling in your head as you nodded again, taking it from him as well as your own bundled up clothes, and thanking him. Your skirt was quickly slipped on, the protective shorts that came attached hopefully being enough to cover you. Jisung led you to the door, walking with you until you reached the exit of the building. He looked sad, and somehow the expression calmed you down – it wasn’t just you who appeared upset with the anti-climatic situation.

He waved goodbye, and you waved back quickly before stepping out. He was right, it was cold so you slipped his jacket on, fitting you big as well. It wasn’t until you walked towards your car in the venue’s parking lot that you realized an article of yours was missing - your panties to be specific. You scoffed, imagining Jisung sneaking them away before giving his clothes to you. 

Once you got home, you warmed up quickly with your AC, deciding to take his jacket off. As you shook the fabric off, a small note fell out of the pocket, and you swore once again that you were in a dream as you read the words written on it.

‘I think I’m going to miss you so here’s my number. Please message me when you see this. - Ji.'

a/n: i'm seeing jisung live again at smtown soon so my brain is running... thinking thoughts... he was so fine irl i can't wait to see my man again i'm going to run on stage and you will NOT be able to drag me off of him. anyway here are some of the thoughts i'm thinking ^_^ i hope you guys like

[beloveds-embrace]

I dunno if I've harassed you yet buuuut,

I just read the newest take on the text and they'll be there guard dogish 141, and just. What if an anxious little bird just walks up to one it the group and just squeezes into the crowd and just.

"ignore me I'm about to lose my shit" or just stands there and gives a small hi cause they're overstimmed or need a break or someone's been creepy and they see that people keep a wide berth from said person or group.

Hi I'm excited I hope anything here made a bit of sense. Also possible reverse 'guard dog' distribution system, the small bird doesn't find a dog. The dog finds a bird.

You aren’t harassing me at all! Please don’t ever feel like that 😭💕 i love, love both scenarios, so I’ll do the second one later as well. Thank you for this wonderful ask!

The dim hum of the pub was comforting- warm light glowing against worn wood, the steady murmur of conversations buzzing around you. It had been your usual spot for a quiet drink after a hard week, but tonight was different, and not in a good way.

Someone had been watching you, and not in the harmless, fleeting way most people did. His gaze lingered too long, his smirk too wide, his attempts to approach you far too persistent even when you refused the drink he’d sent towards you. When you’d brushed him off the third time like that, you could see clearly on his face that he didn’t like that.

Men like him were common, but that just made them all the more dangerous.

The weight of his presence was suffocating, so you’d bolted toward the one corner of the room where you felt the most secure. Them.

You’d seen them here before- an unassuming group at first glance, but the way they carried themselves screamed “don’t mess with us.” Four men with their thighs each bigger than your head at the very least, and tonight, they were your only hope.

Standing up and doing your best to ignore the angry gaze practically boring into you, you approached their table cautiously, feeling several pairs of sharp eyes land on you. Mutton chops tilted his head, pretty boy stood from his seat slightly, brow furrowed. Mohawk’s wide grin faltered, replaced with curiosity, while the last one’s gaze, though obscured by his balaclava, was cold and assessing.

You should probably ask for their names. If they let you sit you with them, that is.

“Uh- so sorry to bother,” you started, voice shaking slightly. “But…there’s this guy…” You didn’t need to finish. Balaclava’s attention shifted subtly, big shoulders tightening as his eyes flicked past you. Mohawk’s grin returned, but this time, even in the dim light, you could tell it was dangerous.

“Where?” Mutton chop asked, his voice steady but just as sharp as his eyes

You subtly nodded toward the man at the bar, who was now visibly trying to act like he wasn’t watching your every move. The second he noticed who you were speaking to, his face drained of color. He turned away, gripping his drink like it might shield him.

Pretty boy snorted. “Well, ain’t that something? Big man suddenly doesn’t have the guts, eh?”

“Stay here.” Balaclava said firmly, standing up with the kind of slow, deliberate movement that made your stomach flip. The other three followed suit, each moving with the kind of quiet unity that could only come from working together for years. Maybe they were a team? You knew there was a military base somewhere nearby, could they be from there?

Still, you obeyed and stayed behind, heart thundering in your chest as they approached the man- not from fear, but from excitement. Ghost leaned in, his imposing frame towering over the guy. Whatever was said was too low for you to hear, but the way your harasser paled, hands shaking as he grabbed his coat and bolted from the pub, told you enough.

When they returned and introduced themselves, Soap clapped you lightly on the back with a bold grin. “Dinnae think he’ll be botherin’ you again, lass.”

Price pulled a chair out for you, right with their table. “Sit. You’re safe here. Anyone who’s got a problem with you’s got a problem with us now.”

You sank into the chair, warmth spreading through your chest. You didn’t know them, not really, but in that moment, you felt like you’d just gained four overprotective, no-nonsense bodyguards. Is this what celebrities felt like? It was amazing.

“Thank you, really,” you repeated, giving them such a grateful, blinding smile. “Again, I’m so sorry for bothering you like that. It was just-“

Gaz shook his head, not letting you finish. “No need to, love. We don’t mind at all. Just enjoy your night now, yeah? No more of pricks like him bothering you.”

And judging by the way Soap was already offering to buy you a drink and Ghost’s subtle but watchful eye, you were honestly more than okay with that.

[rambling-at-midnight]

Please Come Home

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: You never realized how many places there were to hide in your apartment, but you’re pretty sure someone else is in here with you. Whatever they want isn’t good.

Word count: 3.3k

TW: home invasion, violence, curses as insults

Your spare key is missing.

Fuck. You always keep it in this drawer. Where the fuck is it?

When you told Jason he could just grab your keys to take your car instead of his bike to the store, you’d been relying on using your spare to lock up the apartment when you left for work. You never, ever moved it, but it was gone all the same. Did he take it instead of your keychain? Nope, that’s missing from its hook next to the front door.

When was the last time you used it? Not too long ago. Had you been careless about putting it back?

You text Jason, Did you grab my spare key?

Shit. You had to leave for work, like, five minutes ago, and you have no key to lock the front door.

At least you have a fire escape. You bolt the door from the inside, then slip out the window. You can’t latch it from the outside, but it’s a little harder to break in through the window than the front door.

You’re only two minutes late to your waitressing shift. Your manager swipes you in, lets you know that a server called out so you’ll be handling two sections today, and the host runs up to tell you that you’ve already been sat.

In the middle of the shift, when you have a minute to catch your breath, you check your phone. Jason had texted, No, I took your keychain. Is your spare missing?

I think I lost it.

I’ll look for it when I come home before patrol. Will I see you before heading out?

Not looking like it. Things haven’t slowed down at all.

I’ll see you when I get home, then. Don’t wait up.

I’ll have dinner in the fridge when you get back. Gotta get back to work. Love you

I love you, too.

A couple hours later, Jason texts that he has no luck locating your spare. Since he’s paranoid, he’s going out for a new lock tomorrow, but there’s important business with a drug ring that he can’t miss tonight.

That’s okay. It’ll be a pain to climb up the fire escape, but you don’t really mind that much. You’ve been meaning to get more exercise, anyway.

You finish work at six and the walk back to your apartment building is pretty peaceful. Unusual for Gotham.

It lulls you into a false sense of security.

You’re not really in the mood for leftovers, and not really in the mood to cook. You stare between your phone and the pantry. Takeout is easy. So is pasta.

With a sigh, you decide to spare your bank account. Delivery fees are getting ridiculous nowadays.

You text Jason just to see how his night is going. You’re not sure he’ll respond; sometimes, like during stakeouts, he turns his phone off completely so the sound or vibrate doesn’t reveal his presence. He doesn’t respond after a minute, which means he’s busy. You sigh and set down your phone, then change into comfier clothes. As soon as you’re out of your room, you grab a pot and box of pasta. You can’t sit down, or you’ll put off dinner for at least another hour.

The water is set to boil when you turn around to look at your phone, vaguely hoping Jason has responded by now.

Your phone isn’t on the counter.

You frown. You’re pretty sure you left it there.

Maybe it’s in the pantry when you grabbed the pasta?

It’s not.

You must have left it in your room when you changed. You check, and it’s sitting right on your bedside table. “Jeez,” you mutter, picking it up and slipping it into your pocket. After a long day, it’s okay to be scatterbrained, but this is a bit much.

Still no response from Jason.

You walk out of the bedroom to see that the stove turned itself off and the pasta water is barely warm. “Gotham appliances are such pieces of shit,” you mutter. You know what, fine. A shower and feeling clean will make you feel better to try again. The saying is that a watched pot never boils, but hopefully a watched Gotham stove never turns itself on and off randomly while you cook.

The apartment’s a bit chilly, so you take your pajamas with you into the bathroom and sit under the water spray until all the grime of the day washes away. It’s a bad habit, but you bring your phone with you in the shower to scroll through social media until your skin starts to get pruny. You step out, wrapping the towel around yourself in a vain attempt to stop shivering, and… your pajamas are gone.

The pajamas that you’re sure you took with you. You distinctly remember putting them on the sink counter.

And now they’re gone.

Something clenches in your stomach. You text Jason, Hey are you home yet?

He doesn’t respond right away.

Jay, this isn’t funny.

Still nothing.

Is it possible you forgot to bring the clothes with you? No, you distinctly remember the thought process.

Someone moved them, and you can’t think of s single reason anyone you know would do that. That kind of prank isn’t funny.

You text Jason, I think there is someone in the house with me. Then you try calling him.

You go straight to voicemail.

You bite your lip, trying hard not to panic. Jason never sends you to voicemail. He’s answered your calls in the middle of shootouts, voice strained, “Hey, kinda busy right now, is it an emergency?”

His phone is turned off, so who knows when he’ll see your texts. He might not turn it on again for hours.

You text your best friend, I think someone broke into my house. Don’t call me. Please help.

You chew on your thumbnail.

Either she calls the cops, or she shows up with a baseball bat and her scary-ass motorcycle dude boyfriend. He’s secretly a softie, but his appearance doesn’t match his personality.

He’s a lot like Jason, actually. Who would have thought you two had the same type?

You call Jason again.

Voicemail.

Again.

Voicemail.

Your best friend texts, Omw. That’s it, but it’s the best text you’ve ever seen in your life.

Okay. Either cower in the bathroom until someone shows up, or play along with the same game the possibly-real-intruder is playing, that everything is normal.

No matter what happens next, you want to be dressed for it. You peek under the door, but you don’t see anyone’s feet.

Maybe this is all in your head, but you have a terrible gut feeling that it isn’t.

Your heart pounds, but you maintain a leisurely stroll into your room through the kitchen, palming a knife as you go, and locking the door behind you. The intruder may be in your closet, so you hold the knife out as you swing the door open.

Empty.

You throw on the first clothes you see and debate hiding in your room until your friend arrives. But adrenaline is pumping and you think you might shake out of your skin. You sit on the edge of the bed and take deep breaths.

There’s a window in your room, but it only opens three inches and it’s not connected to the fire escape, so that’s not an option. The window that leads to the fire escape is in the main room, so you’d have to walk through the kitchen to get to it, and the intruder may be hiding in the pantry.

You could try the front door, but the storage closet is right next to it: another likely place for someone to hide and jump out at you.

Your room is only as safe as the strength of the door. And the wood is pretty thin.

All of a sudden, your phone buzzes, and you drop it. You snatch it up to see an incoming call lighting up the screen with your boyfriend’s handsome contact photo.

You accept the call immediately. “Jay?”

“I’m on my way,” he rushes out. You hear the roar of his motorcycle in the background. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.” You whisper, “I think someone is here.”

“I know.” His voice is strained. “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be fine. I’m five minutes away. Can you get out?”

“I don’t know. I’m in my bedroom, I locked my door. I think he’s hiding somewhere in the apart—”

A hand shoots out from under the bed and grabs your ankle.

You scream.

Your phone flies away when he yanks you off the bed. You go down swinging with the knife and make contact, accidentally swiping your own ankle in the process. The man grunts with pain and lets go, and you scramble to the door. You don’t even feel the pain in your ankle, although you’re actually bleeding a lot.

He’s wriggling out from under your bed when you get to your feet and twist the doorknob. “Get the fuck out of my house, you fucking pervert!” you scream. You yank the door open and run…

Right into a stranger’s chest.

There are two of them?

An iron grip clamps over your shoulder. His other hand fists in your hair. “Well, hello, pretty. You’re not the Red Hood.”

You stab him in the stomach.

Unfortunately, that only makes him mad.

“You bitch,” he groans. The slap is so powerful it nearly breaks your neck. You can’t breathe for a second, and then the first man catches up to you. His hand is bleeding. Like, a lot. They transfer you over so the stabbed man can groan about being stabbed. It’s only in his gut, so he should be fine. “Walk it off,” you goad. It’s the Gotham in you.

The first man digs his bloody knuckles into your cheek. “Fucking whore cut me,” he says. “Where’s the Red Hood?”

“He’ll kill you both,” you spit. “He’s on his way to shoot you in the head.” The threat should have scared them, but they were dumb enough to break into the Red Hood’s apartment and beat his partner. They had not been blessed with many braincells.

“Good,” he says. “He’ll get here just in time to see his pretty pet die.”

Someone pounds on the door and everyone freezes. Fear flashes over their face, but Jason wouldn’t have knocked. He would have kicked the door down or gone through the window.

Your best friend calls your name through the door. She’s trying to sound casual, but things are so far past casual.

The man holding you sees you draw in a breath to scream. “Don’t you dare,” he warns. “Do it and I’ll kill them, too.” The barrel of a gun presses to the side of your head.

Where is Jason?

You don’t think he’ll get here in time. He doesn’t deserve to carry the weight of that failure, but he will. Your Jay thinks he’s responsible for every bad thing in the world.

The man’s ugly face explodes.

You register the concussive sound of gunfire half a second later. Your ears ring. You lose your balance.

More gunfire. It’s so loud all you can do is cover your ears. Who’s shooting who?

It stops as suddenly as it started, but you don’t look up. You can’t hear anything. You don’t want to see their ugly faces anymore.

Then hands grab you again, and you shriek. Your kitchen knife is still buried in the second man’s gut, so you have no defense. A man with a gun is going to kill you in your apartment.

Despite all your attempts at fighting, he’s too strong. Iron hands pry your hands away from your head, but you still can’t hear anything. Your ears are still ringing too loud. Your eardrums might have burst.

Then gloved hands cup your cheeks.

You know those gloves.

Jason is kneeling on the ground in front of you, absolutely frantic. His mouth moves, but you don’t hear anything. You don’t even hear your sob, but you definitely feel it right before you throw yourself at him.

Strong arms wrap around your back. Jason cradles you, hugs you so tight you can’t breathe, tries to hide you from anyone that might hear you. You still can’t make out his words, but you’re beginning to hear a muffled voice.

You’re sitting completely in his lap, his legs behind you to support your back. You cling to him, trying not to shake. You’re a pretty unflappable Gothamite, but a home invasion is enough to rattle anyone. You’re supposed to be safe here.

Jason pulls away just enough to kiss your forehead. His green eyes squeeze tight like he’s in pain, and a single tear slips from the corner of one.

You wipe it away.

Jason wipes the blood on your cheek away.

You read his lips when he asks if you’re okay. You nod. You’re alive, and that’s what matters.

Jason holds you still when you try to look around. He says something that you can’t read. He must know that you don’t understand, because he just uses one huge hand on the back of your head to pull you forward. His mouth presses against your forehead, not quite a kiss, just relishing the connection.

You hear the banging first. Then you hear the shouting.

Oh, God. Your best friend.

You scramble out of Jason’s hold so fast he can’t stop you. You stumble past two dead bodies, both with three bullets in their heads. The floor is ruined beyond belief.

Jason helps support you. He needs to touch you somewhere to reassure himself that you’re okay, that you’re alive. You unlock the door, and barely open it a crack before your friend pushes it all the way open.

She gasps at the sight of you. “Oh, my God!” Her arms wrap tight around your neck, and you squeeze her. Jason’s hand remains pressed against your back. Her boyfriend stands behind her in the hallway, and he eyes Jason somewhat suspiciously. The two have never met before.

Your best friend pulls away, and Jason folds you against his side. His hand runs up and down your arm.

“Are you okay? There’s blood all over you.” Her eyes drift past your face and land on the bodies on your floor. Her mouth tightens, but she doesn't scream or call the cops immediately.

“It’s not mine,” you say faintly. “Well…” You look at your ankle. “Most of it.”

“Jesus,” says Jason. “They did that to you?”

"I did it to myself," you admit. "But I stabbed that one." You point.

He kisses the top of your head. "I'm going to teach you how to defend yourself. I never should have left you alone." Jason fixes your friend with a look so stern that she actually gulps. "Can you watch them for a little bit?"

"Yeah," she says. "I'll take care of them."

"Good." Jason takes your face in his hands. His eyes blaze. "I'll be back as soon as I can. You hear me? You're not gonna be alone ever again."

You nod numbly.

Jason carries you to the couch, then coaches your friend through applying pressure to your ankle. He gently places an icepack in your hand, then moves you until it's pressed to your numb cheek. Then he kisses you. Pulls back. Kisses you again. It's not sweet—he tastes like blood, or maybe you do—but it's firm, and it's real, and it's a promise.

He stands up and asks your friend's boyfriend, "You wanna help me with these?"

As far as you know, the other man's never hidden a dead body in his life. But to his credit, he hardly hesitates before nodding.

Jason's already calling someone when he walks out. One of his criminal contacts, you're sure. You don't know and you don't want to know.

They're gone for twenty minutes. You're still in shock when they get back. You know you're in shock, but you can't snap out of it. You don't think you want to.

He gently nudges your friend's hands away to peek under the gauze. "You want stitches for this, honey?"

You shake your head. The cut's too close to bone, and you don't want a needle going anywhere near your bones.

"Okay." He changes the gauze, then tapes it in place, then puts a sticky wrap over that. "I'll change this in the morning. You're gonna be okay."

"I'm glad you're all right," your friend's boyfriend offers. You don't know each other all that well, but he just helped hide two bodies that you and Jason killed, so he must be an all right dude. You nod, give him a shaky smile, try to wave.

Your best friend bends over to hug you. "I'm going to text you in the morning," she says. "You'll be okay with Jason. I'm so proud of you. I'm so glad you're okay."

You hug her back until she puts the icepack back in the freezer.

When they leave, Jason stands up from the couch. You make a pleading, confused noise in the back of your throat, and he smooths your hair away from your face. "I'll be right back, honey," he promises. "I'm gonna lock the door. No one's ever getting to you again, you hear me?"

As soon as he pulls away, you shiver. The only thing keeping you warm was his body.

True to his word, he locks the front door, then heads right back to you.

"Do you want to go to the bedroom?" Jason asks softly.

You shake your head. There was a man hiding beneath your bed tonight. It was worse than any monster you used to be scared of as a child.

"Okay," he says softly. Jason eases onto the couch, but he has so much bulk that it's impossible to lay side-by-side on your backs. Jason twists onto his side, and after a moment, you do too, using one of his massive biceps as a pillow. He smells like gunpowder. You smell like blood. You fit together like two terrible, violent puzzle pieces.

He kisses your forehead again. Pulls a blanket over the two of you, makes sure it's snug around your feet. You enjoy the fussing.

When he has nothing left to fiddle with, Jason sucks in a ragged inhale, then says, voice cracking, "When I saw those texts, I was terrified."

"I'm glad you checked your phone," you say. "For a while, I thought you wouldn't."

"I could feel that something was wrong."

Your throat hurts. "Did you mess up your mission tonight because of me?"

"Honey, I would do anything for you," he says. "I'd abandon a thousand missions to keep you safe. I'd burn this city to the ground."

Another night, you would remind him that he's a hero. That he fights for the greater good. That he is good.

Tonight, you take comfort in the vow.

"I'm so proud of you," he whispers. "You were so brave. You did so well."

Your fingers twist in his shirt. Your nose nestles into the hollow at the base of his throat perfectly, so you hear every breath he takes, every rumble in his throat when he talks. You press a kiss to his chest just above the neckline of his shirt, and his throat jumps.

Jason makes a strangled noise, then wraps his arms even tighter around you. He throws one leg over your hip, completely covering you, pressing you into the couch. You would feel suffocated if it was anyone else.

You fall asleep faster than you ever have before, secure that Jason won't let anything happen to you during the night. The last thing you register before unconsciousness is his dry lips pressed to your forehead again. Making sure you're alive. Reassuring you that he's here and always will be.

DC taglist:

@evalynanne @mismatchsposts

Forever taglist:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit  @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight @andreasworlsboring101

Let me know any requests you guys have or if you want to be added to a taglist!

[shotmrmiller]

I'm your only situationship.

A/N : yall i stayed up til 324 am writing this. I felt like if i went to bed still only having it as a thought and not on 'paper' thats unacceptable. If i gotta think about this then so do yall! it was also supposed to be a small one shot but it got wildly out of hand im not sorry.

18+ MDNI

TW: typical smut, EXPLICIT mmkay im talkin clutch ur pearls explicit.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Simon had finally come home from a grueling 6-month mission. All he wanted was some Kentucky bourbon with you at your favorite seedy bar. 

Once he was home, Simon cleaned up, put on a black clinical mask, and sent a text to you to meet him there. As he finished his first glass of the night, a rather attractive young woman approached him, asking if she could buy him a drink. 

“Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around, lovie?”

“Not at all. This is after all the 21st century. I’m simply asking— wouldn’t want any missus at home getting upset.”

“There’s no one at home for me, lass.”

“Well then, how about you get yourself another glass, my treat, and we’ll see where this night takes us?” 

He slightly nodded —he’d never say no to a free drink— and as she left to order a drink, he took his phone out to text you again.

“C’mon, pet. I’ll cover the tab. Too good f’me, now?”

His phone vibrated a minute later.

“I can’t today, Si.”

“Why not? I know you don’t go out on Sundays.”

As the young woman came back, drinks in hand, he lifted the screen to read your response.

“I’ve got a dick appointment~ It’s been a year and then some and I’m gonna claw at my walls if I don’t get a fix ASAP.”

Simon goes tense— soft blues hardening to a silver and he’s gripping his phone so hard it might crack. He pulls up your contact and calls you within seconds.

“Hiya, Si!” 

“What the fuck is a dick appointment?”

“Oh,” you giggle. “I forget you older folk don’t know ‘bout that. It’s just a one-night fling. No commitments or nothin'.’ Exactly what I need right now.” You don’t tell him that the reason you’ve practically regrown your hymen is that when you’re best friends with Simon, every other male in existence pales in comparison. 

“Anyway Si-, he’s getting here in like an hour-”

“No.” And hangs up. 

The young woman who’s casually rubbing his bicep and shoulder gets practically flung off of him, as he gets up off the bar stool so fast it’s falling back with a loud clang, and he’s yanking his leather jacket on and pulling on his leather gloves so hard they’re about to become fingerless—

“Hey! I thought you didn’t have a girlfriend?!”

One gloved hand gripping the front door, he turns his head slightly to her and says, “Pet, with how good I’m gonna fuck her, she won’t even have to ask to know she’s mine.”

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You’re standing in the bathroom with your liquid eyeliner in one hand and phone in the other, staring at the ended call screen. ‘Weird,’ you think, then shrug and put the phone down. ‘Maybe the call got dropped.’

You finally complete the look with your false lashes when there’s a very hard knock on your door. You frown as you look at your phone screen. ‘7:14 pm’. You know the guy said at 8 and you’re in one of Simon’s big shirts he always forgets and your hair is still tied up in an oversized pink and white polka dot scrunchie— The pink leopard print booty shorts you’ve got on will suffice. 

The second time there’s a knock it’s even louder. 

“Jesus Christ, I’m coming!” 

You open the door and say, “I’m sorry I took so long, I—”

Simon flies past you, with a rough shoulder bump and you turn to look at him and he’s almost sprinting to the bedroom, slamming the door open—

“Simon, what the fuck? What’re you doin—”

“Where is he?”, he snarls.

“Who?! Are you talking about my date? He’s not getting here til 8! And why’re you slamming doors in my apartment like you pay my rent?!”

You see Simon deflate immediately at the important part of your answer and chooses to ignore the rest as he takes off his jacket and walks to your hall closet to hang it. Closing your door and locking it, you growl out,

“You need to leave. I haven’t even finished getting ready. I promise I’ll—”

“No, pet.”

“Will you quit interrupting me! Simon, I swear—”

“Pet.” 

You’re holding a scream behind your teeth, about to rip the hair out of your scalp when you see Simon take one loop of his mask off from around his ear and then the other. You gape. You’ve seen Simon without his mask— that isn’t the reason you can no longer find your voice. It’s the way he put his gloved middle finger in between his teeth and pulled it off so sensually. You can feel your cheeks and ears radiate heat from just seeing the tip of his pink tongue. Christ, you’re down horrendously.

You open your mouth to say something, anything, to distract yourself from the fact that you’re getting wet over an interaction so chaste when Simon is touching your ass, giving it a hard squeeze, before moving down to the back of your thighs and lifting you up. You startle at the movement and throw your arms around his neck out of habit, hoping he won’t drop you in the move to your bedroom.

He presses you against the wall with his hips, then grabs both of your ankles from behind his lower back and hooks the back of your knees over his forearms. Simon noses your jaw and starts grinding his clothed erection deliciously hard over the definitely wet spot on your shorts and growls out, 

“If you think,” grind “that I’m gonna allow My,” grind “Girl,”  grind—and you whimper in his ear,  “get fucked by some little cock two pump chump,” he gives a forced chuckle, “you must be daft, pet. Or maybe you’re doing it on purpose, eh? Trying to get my attention? Well, you’ve got it now. “ 

He moves his face to hover his lips over yours— you can lightly smell the bourbon he drank earlier— and he whispers, “You ever like this and I’m around, you come to me. And if I’m away, you wait for me like a good girl and when I come back I’ll give this,” he taps your pussy over your shorts, “greedy little cunt all the cock it can take.”

With a shaky breath, you nod before he kisses you, his bourbon-flavored tongue curling against yours, and you’re moaning into it because you’ve wanted this for too long and he’s finally touching you. Curling your fingers into his ash-brown hair, you move your mouth to his neck, to the right of his adam’s apple, took a bit of skin between your teeth and sucked. 

Simon hisses, dips his fingertips into your flesh hard enough to bruise, and all but yanks you off the wall to toss you onto your bed. 

You yelp as you bounce from the force of his throw— you’re still bouncing on the bed when Simon grabs the waistband of your shorts and knickers to pull right off, which you’re grateful for because the grey knickers you got on aren’t what anyone would wear for a first, second nor third impression.

Simon grabs both of the back of your knees with one hand,  goddamn bear paws, you think, before you feel his tongue in between your lips— so warm and wet and fuck, you needed this, needed him— and he flicks his tongue up and down on your clit. He sticks his long middle finger into you and it goes in without resistance, you’re slippery, drooling over his wrist and finger that’s curled up into the rough patch of nerves against your gummy walls, that he’s pressing into, over and over. God you’re about to come, your legs shake in his one-handed hold and you’ve got a white knuckle grip on the forearm you’re sinking your nails into—

Simon pulls away. You were so close, your eyes start watering because he can’t possibly be this mean to you but then you see him shove his tongue in between his middle and ring finger, eating up your nectar when he says, “The first time I’m gonna make you come, it’ll be on my cock. I want to see the frothy white cream you're gonna leave at the base.” 

You’re nodding hysterically at this point, anything for him to make you come, anything for him.  With a twirl of his index, he’s telling you to get on all fours. Scrambling, you turn over and arch your back— resting your head on your forearms— and you feel his calloused palms run down from your spine to your ass cheeks before he gives it a spank. 

“You have a condom?” 

You shake your head and you mewl out, “No, but I’m clean.”

“Good. I don’t want anything between us.”

You arch your back further, pressing your ass further into his hips when you hear his belt buckle clank and zipper open. Simon brings his palm to your other cheek, reddening it. 

“Fuckin’ hell, pet. Look at you spread out for me.” 

You feel warm velvet over steel over your slit before he slowly pushes inside, not all the way but about a little over half of his length, remembering that your g-spot is a little closer to the front. Fast, relatively shallow thrusts hitting your spot with almost clinical precision have you reeling, your orgasm about to break you, mind and body. Hands tightening painfully, you shatter— loud, high-pitched whines, ringing in your ears and pussy pulsing around Simon’s thick girth— and god, Simon doesn’t stop thrusting. He keeps the same smooth rhythm and you’d think he’s unaffected by the tight vice your pussy has him in— but you hear him, low, deep groans and a tighter grip on your hips telling you otherwise. 

He pulls out to bend over your back, completely covering it, and he murmurs in your ear, “I hope you didn’t think we were done. My girl wanted a fuckin’, now she’s gonna get it.” 

He takes off your pink, silly scrunchy and you see it around his tattooed wrist before he grabs your hair into a makeshift ponytail and is leaning back up and forcing your back to arch under his pull. You feel his leg at the height of your hips— propped up, foot flat on the bed and knee bent and the other straight on the floor and all you can think of is how this man is gonna kill you with his cock. 

Simon snaps his hips forward, fist full of hair pulling back,  stretching and filling in one strong thrust, bottoming out. He gives you no reprieve, no time to get used to how fucking deep he is, and sets an intense, firm pace that has you feeling a pinch below the navel every time his hip bones slap against your ass, balls to the clit and you love it. Every pinch in your lower belly has your pussy making a squelching sound and you can’t help yourself— you reach underneath your body to feel how split open you are with two fingers, encasing his cock and feeling the skin drag with them as he pulls out.

That has him hissing air between his teeth, he’s about to come but doesn't want it to be over so he pulls out, and opens your cheeks to spit in your furled hole, before pressing in with the pad of his thumb, and you’re almost screaming. He moves back a bit further to spit in your pussy, not that you need it— you’re drenching the sheets underneath you— and now he’s spearing you with his tongue before curling it, getting your juices pooled on it before coming back up, lips smacking, and he grabs your hair in his ponytail and now he uses his other hand to curls his fingers and palm over the front of your throat and that's all it takes for your vision to darken and arms go limp but he’s again, fucking you through your orgasm and this time you leave a creamy white ring at the base of his length. 

“Oh, fuckin hell.” He groans out and it sounds desperate and you know he’s close.

“Come in me, Simon. Please fill me up, I promise I’ll keep it all in.”

He gives a strained chuckle and says, “Pet, I can barely pull out of a driveway much less this tight little cunt.” He squeezes your throat hard, strands of hair popping out of your scalp and his cock feels massive, the pinch in your stomach feels like a cramp from how deep he is and he lets out a low drawn out moan that lasts 3 thrusts— and then there’s warmth filling you up, so much so it leaks from the sides of where you two are connected. Simon lets go of your hair and you fall face-first onto the bed, exhausted. Defeated. Back properly broken. You officially know what it’s like to get fucked within an inch of your life and you love it. 

He pulls out slowly, with a hiss from both of you and with one hand on your left cheek, he spreads you to look at your stuffed hole.

“Fuck. I love seeing me drip out of you.” 

You’re about to tell him to sod off when the doorbell rings and the both of you stiffen and lock eyes. With a mean snarl, Simon grabs a towel from your bathroom and his mask before stomping his way to answer the door, pink obnoxious scrunchy still on his wrist.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗