#and I keep thinking of all the things I don’t have to do anymore

[00valentina-writes00]

Hello! Could you do something about sub space with Ambessa and Sevika?

♡♥︎Subspace with Ambessa and Sevika (separately)♥︎♡

Warnings: rough sex, dom/sub dynamics, subspace, and strap-on use. Sevika/ambessa is in control, and the reader is completely at her mercy.

♡Ambessa♡

The war table is cold beneath your back, a stark contrast to the heat of Ambessa’s body pressing against you, holding you down, owning you.

The room is empty now—save for the two of you. The scent of spiced wine and polished steel lingers in the air, remnants of the meeting that had just concluded, but none of it matters.

Not when she’s inside you.

Not when her cock is stretching you open, slow, deliberate, dragging along every nerve like she wants to carve herself into your body.

And she will.

She already has.

Her grip on your hips is bruising, large hands pinning you down as she thrusts into you, each stroke hitting so fucking deep your breath hitches, eyes rolling back.

She makes you take it.

Every thick, punishing inch.

“You’re shaking,” Ambessa murmurs, amused, dragging her nails up your thigh, feeling the tremble in your muscles. “Poor thing. You can’t even think, can you?”

You can’t

Your mind is nothing but static, pleasure turning your limbs to liquid, your body soft and yielding beneath her.

You try to speak—some desperate attempt at words—but it comes out as nothing more than a broken, breathy moan.

Ambessa smirks.

“Good,” she murmurs, smoothing a hand up your stomach, over your breasts, thumb brushing lazily across your stiff nipple before moving to your throat. “You don’t need to think. Just feel.”

She punctuates the words with a deep, grinding thrust, her cock pressing firm against that perfect, devastating spot inside you, and you fucking keen, your back arching off the table, your fingers clawing at the smooth mahogany surface.

The polished wood offers no grip, no purchase, but you don’t need it—Ambessa holds you steady, her strength keeping you exactly where she wants you.

And gods, you love it.

Love the way she uses you, love the way she pulls you under, drowning you in sensation until you’re nothing but a shaking, desperate mess beneath her.

It’s happening faster than you can control.

That slow, creeping numbness slipping into your limbs, the warmth spreading through your chest, the sharp edges of reality dulling until all that exists is her.

Her touch.

Her voice.

Her cock pushing you deeper, deeper, deeper.

You gasp, whimper, thighs twitching around her waist, but Ambessa doesn’t let up.

She wouldn’t dare.

“You’re slipping,” she murmurs, her voice lower now, firm but steady. “I can feel it.”

Your eyes flutter, mouth opening, but your tongue feels too heavy, your thoughts too slow, caught in that thick, hazy fog where you don’t have to do anything.

Don’t have to think.

Don’t have to move.

Just let her take.

Ambessa watches you, eyes sharp, calculating, studying every twitch of your body.

Then, softer—so fucking gentle—she leans in, lips brushing your temple.

“I’ve got you, little one.”

The words send a shudder through you, something raw and helpless, and you melt, sinking into it completely, body going more pliant that it already was beneath her.

Ambessa hums in approval, lips curling into something dark.

And then she fucks you.

Deep, brutal, unrelenting, forcing pleasure through your veins like fire, burning away every last piece of you until you are nothing but this—nothing but hers.

Time doesn’t exist anymore.

It’s all the same, lost in the haze, in the overwhelming sensation, in the delicious, mind-numbing pleasure of being taken.

You don’t even notice when your own voice starts breaking, when your moans turn high and desperate, when your body starts shaking under her like you can’t take it anymore.

Ambessa notices.

She always fucking notices.

And she only smirks.

Because she isn’t done with you yet.

♡Sevika♡

The edge of the kitchen counter is digging into your back, but you barely feel it.

All you feel is her.

Sevika has you spread open, thighs hooked over her arms as she fucks into you with long, deep strokes, her strap hitting all the right places, making your breath come out in ragged little gasps.

You don’t remember how you got here. One second, you’d been cooking—something simple, something that shouldn’t have ended with you like this, legs spread on the counter, her cock stretching you open, her fingers digging bruises into your hips.

But Sevika? Sevika never asks.

She takes.

And fuck, do you love it when she does.

Her pace is relentless, her hips slamming into yours, the sound of skin on skin filthy in the small space. The kitchen lights cast a dim glow over her face, highlighting the sharpness of her jaw, the furrow of her brows, the way her lips part just slightly as she watches you unravel beneath her.

You can barely think. Barely breathe.

Every thrust sends fire licking up your spine, pleasure so consuming it drowns out everything else—the scent of whatever was on the stove, the hum of the fridge, the distant city noise beyond your window.

There’s only Sevika. Only this.

Her fingers slide down, pressing against your clit, and your whole body fucking twitches, heat flooding your veins so fast it makes your head spin.

“Fuck, look at you,” she mutters, voice thick with amusement. “So fucking gone for me.”

You are. You are.

Your nails dig into her forearms, clinging to her like she’s the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. And maybe she is, because every time she moves, every time her cock buries deep inside you, it drags you further into that space—that mindless, floating feeling where you don’t have to think, don’t have to do anything but take it.

She tilts your chin up, forcing your hazy gaze to meet hers.

“That’s it,” she murmurs, softer now. “Let go, baby. I got you.”

You whimper, legs trembling around her, the pleasure turning into something too much, too overwhelming, but she doesn’t stop.

She won’t stop.

Not until she’s completely ruined you.

Her pace never falters, cock dragging against that spot inside you over and over, her fingers rubbing tight circles against your clit. You’re shaking, your breath coming in broken little pants, your body teetering on the edge of something massive, something that has you slipping further and further into the haze.

Everything else disappears

Time stops.

There’s just sensation—just the push and pull, the dizzying heat, the way your body responds to her every touch like she owns it.

(And she does.)

Your mind barely registers when you start to slip completely, when words become impossible, when all you can do is moan, whimper, take it.

Sevika notices.

Her grip on your hips tightens, her strokes slowing just slightly, her voice lowering into something firm, grounding.

“There you go,” she murmurs. “That’s my girl.”

The words make your stomach flip, heat surging through you so violently you keel into it, your head lolling back as Sevika fucks you through it, her rhythm steady, strong, pushing you deeper.

You don’t know how long she keeps you there.

Minutes. Hours. A lifetime.

You barely notice when she slows, when her thrusts turn gentle, when her lips press against your throat in something softer, grounding.

It takes a moment for you to come back down, your body trembling, muscles weak, breath shuddering in your chest.

Sevika watches you, eyes dark, calculating. Making sure you’re okay.

When she speaks, her voice is low, soothing.

“You with me, baby?”

You blink up at her, dazed. Nodding.

She huffs a quiet laugh, brushing damp hair from your forehead.

“That’s my good girl.”

And fuck—if the words don’t send another shiver down your spine.

[bytemee]

can u write a oneshot where mean!sorority!karina x loser!g!p!reader and reader goes out of town for a lego convention or some nerd shit and karina's like "ok lol" barely replying to their texts

but then reader sends selfies looking kinda good and suddenly karina's not so mean anymore (but she's acting like she doesn't care) and later she's in bed lowkey staring at reader's pics when reader calls and starts yapping about legos all excited while karina listens way too hard. somehow this leads to phone sex 🫣

CYBER SEX — YU JIMIN.

"wish you were here right now, all of the things i'd do."

synopsis. karina swears she doesn’t miss you. not even a little. if her puppy wants to ditch her for some dumb lego convention, that’s your loss. okay...maybe letting you leave was a mistake… but at least she can have some fun making you miss her.

pairing. mean!sorority!karina x loser!gp!reader

warning(s). 18+ (smut), phone sex (duhhhh), g!p reader, pet names (karina calling u puppy ofc), bad writing, and let me know if there's more!

words. 2k

authors note. mean!sorority!karina is so awesome sauce man. i also forgot my own schedule dates.. i apologize.

part one. part two. part four. headcannons. navigation. main masterlist.

karina wasn't mad. she wasn't.

so what if her puppy had ditched town for some stupid lego convention? it wasn't like she cared. she had better things to do than think about you running around, geeking out over plastic blocks.

her sorority sisters, however, were testing her patience. 

"she didn't even tell you until last minute?" giselle smirked over her drink. 

"sounds like someone got ditched," winter added.

"i didn't get ditched." karina rolled her eyes, scrolling through her messages. your last text had been two hours ago—a simple just got here! it's so cool, you'd love it if you gave it a chance :(  to which she had responded with a dry, doubt it. 

and that was it. that was all you were getting from her. if you wanted to act like a loser, that was your problem.

"didn't get ditched," winter mocked under her breath, earning a laugh from ningning.karina threw them a glare before pushing up from the couch, phone clutched in her hand. "i'm going to bed."

she ignored their knowing smirks as she stormed up the stairs to her room, locking the door behind her. 

her phone buzzed just as she flopped onto her bed, and against her better judgment, she checked it immediately.

puppy: look!! isn't it so cute?? :D

attached were three selfies of you grinning with some ridiculously detailed lego set in the background. your glasses were slightly askew, your hoodie a little too big, and your excitement was practically radiating off the screen. 

karina clicked on one of the pictures, zooming in just a little. not because she missed you. not because she thought you looked cute. just... because. 

another text popped up. 

puppy: there's this one panel tomorrow about rare discontinued sets, you think i should go? 

she bit her lip, hesitating before replying.

karina: do whatever you want. 

she stared at her screen for a moment before sighing and tossing her phone onto her pillow. 

she wasn't jealous. she wasn't annoyed. she wasn't—

her phone buzzed again.

puppy: you're so mean ;(

a smirk twitched at her lips.

before she could respond, her phone started ringing. you.

she exhaled sharply before answering, keeping her voice bored. "what?"

"okay, so—listen." your voice came through, breathless with excitement. "i got to see so many cool sets today. like, there was this one display of the millennium falcon that was massive, and i swear, if i had the money, i'd—"

she hummed, pretending to listen as you rambled on about your day. but she was listening. more than she wanted to admit. she could practically picture you, pacing in your hotel room, waving your hands around as you talked a mile a minute.

"like i said, you'd think it's cool if you were here," you muttered, and she could hear the pout in your voice.

"don’t think so."

you groaned. "you're impossible."

she smirked. "and you're a nerd."

"i am not—"

she could hear the shuffle of you moving around, probably flopping onto your bed. then, a pause. your voice was quieter when you spoke again. "you miss me?"

karina rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. she could lie. she could say no. but instead, she muttered, "not really."

you laughed, soft and knowing. "liar."

she closed her eyes, gripping her phone tighter. maybe she was. but she'd never admit it.

not yet, anyway.

karina sighed, rolling onto her side as she let your voice fill the quiet of her room. it was late, and she should have been asleep already, but instead, she was still listening to you ramble about legos of all things—like some lovesick idiot.

not that she was one.

"i swear, some of these sets were insane," you continued, voice slightly muffled like you were getting comfortable. "there was this one star wars display with over ten thousand pieces. can you imagine? ten thousand."

"hm," she hummed, only half-listening now. she was too busy staring at the selfies you'd sent earlier, swiping through them like she hadn't already memorized every detail.

she could hear you shifting again, the sound of fabric rustling against fabric, a small sigh escaping your lips. "kinda wish you were here, though. feels weird without you making fun of me."

karina smirked, rolling onto her back. "i'd make fun of you either way, puppy."

you laughed, soft and breathy. "i know. but still."

a beat of silence stretched between you, comfortable but charged. karina exhaled slowly, her fingers tracing idle circles against her stomach.

"so..." your voice had dropped slightly, quieter, more hesitant. "what are you doing?"

"lying down," she murmured. "thinking."

"about?"

she bit her lip, debating. she could keep playing it cool, keep pretending she wasn't fazed by you being miles away. but she was tired, and her walls were lower than usual, and you sounded so damn cute on the other end of the line.

"...you."

you inhaled sharply. "oh."

a smirk pulled at her lips. she could hear the way you tensed up, the way your breath hitched, and it sent a slow wave of satisfaction through her.

"what, puppy?" she teased, her voice dropping into something lower, something smug. "cat got your tongue?"

you swallowed audibly. "no, i just—"

she hummed, tilting her head back against the pillow. "you're cute when you're flustered, you know that?"

another pause. a shaky exhale.

"karina..."her smirk deepened, fingers idly tracing patterns against her skin. "what's wrong, puppy? you miss me that bad?"

you made a small, frustrated noise on the other end, and karina chuckled, knowing exactly where this was heading.

maybe letting you leave town had been a mistake. but at least now, she could have a little fun reminding you exactly who you belonged to. she bit her lip as she slipped her hand into her shorts, trailing her fingers between her thighs. 

her voice dropped lower, more sultry, more teasing. "use your words, puppy. tell me how much you miss me."

she could hear your breathing pick up, ragged and uneven. "i-i miss you. god, i miss you so much."

a small hum of satisfaction escaped her. you gulped at the sound, your shaky hands fumbling to unbutton your jeans. "i want you," you whined, your voice dropping to a whisper. "i wanna be back there with you."

"yeah?" she asked, a smile pulling at her lips. "and what would you do if you were here?"

she knew the answer, of course, but she wanted to hear you say it. she wanted to hear the way your voice would waver and crack as you finally gave in, finally told her exactly what you wanted.

you whimpered, your hands wrapping around yourself as you imagined her touch. "i'd kiss you," you admitted, your breath hitching. 

karina's smirk deepened, her fingers sliding through her own slick. "where?"

"everywhere," you breathed.

she bit her lip, heat coiling in her stomach. she wanted to tell you to get your ass back here, to come crawling on your knees, to beg her to forgive you for leaving her alone like this. but she knew she was too prideful for that, and besides, she couldn't help but find a bit of amusement in the fact that you were getting yourself off, miles away, just to the sound of her voice.

“you touching yourself, puppy?" she asked, her voice low and teasing.

"mhm," you nodded weakly, even though she couldn't see you. you were breathing hard, your hand moving faster, your chest heaving as you lost yourself in the sound of her voice.

karina could hear the way your breath hitched with each stroke, could hear the way your voice went shaky each time she spoke. she loved it, and not in the usual possessive sense you'd expect from her. no, there was something almost tender in the way she teased you, in the way she kept you wanting.

"god, you're so easy," she murmured.

"please," you whimpered, your voice cracking slightly. "i-i wanna hear you."

karina tilted her head back, her breath catching in her throat. you were always so needy, so desperate for her, and god, she loved it. she loved hearing the way your voice would get hoarse and strained, loved the way you'd beg and plead with her to give you more.

"puppy..." she moaned, "you sound so fucking good." a finger slipped into her heat, curling up and dragging along her walls.

"please," you whimpered again, your hand moving faster. "i need to hear you. need to know if you're touching yourself too."

you could hear her gasp on the other end of the line, and you pictured her, eyes closed, back arched as she pressed down into the touch of her own fingers. you let out a jagged exhale, your whole body trembling with the effort of holding back. she was so gorgeous, and even if you weren't there with her, just hearing her like this was enough to drive you crazy.

"are you?" you asked again, a little more desperately this time.

"fuck, yes," she breathed. "i am."

"fuck." your grip tightened around your phone. "i-i bet you look so pretty right now. bet you feel so good."

"so fucking good, puppy." she was moaning openly now, another finger slipping into her slick heat. karina imagined what it would be like to have you back here, on top of her, inside of her, fucking her so hard that all she could do was cry out your name.

she wanted you so badly, and as her fingers sped up, as the heat built in her stomach, she felt herself getting closer to that edge, closer to falling apart for you. "god, i-i miss you so much," she breathed. her body was on fire with desire, her mind consumed by thoughts of you. 

if she wasn't fingers deep inside herself right now, she would have cringed so hard at herself that she'd turn to stone. but her head was swimming with pleasure, and her tongue was loose with it, and god, she wished you were here so she could take out her pent-up frustration on your body.

"s-shit, puppy," she breathed. "you're mine. all mine."

"yes," you whimpered. "only yours."

her fingers curled against her walls, pressing deep into her slick heat, and fuck, she was close, so close, and—

"k-karina," you moaned, your voice going hoarse. "i-i'm gonna cum. please, please, i—"

"fuck, me too." her voice was a low growl, her body trembling as she felt her orgasm building. she wanted to tell you, wanted to make sure you knew, but all that came out was a series of broken moans. she could hear the way your breaths were coming quicker now, could hear the way they turned into choked gasps.

and god, if it wasn't the hottest thing. 

you were hers, and you were coming undone for her.she was getting close too, and when her hand finally started to ache, and she couldn't bring herself to stop, couldn't bring herself to do anything but press her fingers deeper and deeper until her walls finally clenched around them.

"g-gonna—" you cried out, your body shaking as your release finally took over, spilling out of you in waves of pleasure. karina's body followed soon after, her fingers curling deep inside her slick heat, her muscles clenching around them. she shuddered, gasping, her legs trembling as the waves of pleasure rippled through her.

for a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your ragged breathing, the aftershocks still rolling through your body, your skin flushed with heat. the only thing grounding you was the faint static of the phone pressed against your ear.

karina was the first to break the silence, her voice quieter now, almost lazy. "...when are you coming back home?"

you swallowed, still trying to catch your breath. "why?"

"just wondering," she murmured, voice dripping with something that made your stomach twist.

you exhaled slowly, shifting against the sheets. "tomorrow night."

"good."

she didn't elaborate, but you didn't need her to. the implication was clear—she wanted you back.

you smirked, voice teasing as you asked, "miss me that much?"

karina let out a soft scoff, but it lacked any real bite. "shut up."

you chuckled, but before you could push her further, she spoke again, quieter this time.

"...you'll come straight to me, right?"

the words caught you off guard.

for someone who usually kept her emotions so close to her chest, it was unusual for her to ask for something so blatantly. she must be feeling vulnerable. but it wasn't unwelcome. in fact, it sent a wave of affection through you, made your heartbeat a little faster.

you smiled, the words leaving you without a second thought. "of course, i will."

the line was silent for a beat, and then another, and for a moment, you wondered if she was already asleep.

"okay," she whispered.

taglist - @brocoliisscared @spidrgamer @kimminjiissosjdirbidnsjje

part four.

[noodlemoondle]

Promise Me You Won’t Cry Anymore

Zayne x Reader

word count: 800

summary: just a lil blurb about how Zayne reacts to accidentally making you cry

tags: not proof read!!, hurt/comfort, fluff, mentions of medicine. just zayne being a worried doctor really

authors note: hello again guys! ੭ ᐕ)੭*⁾⁾ I fully wrote this on a whim rn in like 10 minutes so pls take that into account lolol. (also it’s another hurt/comfort lolol it’s my fav tag and i don’t have any ideas for anything else) i also wanted this to be like a rlly short blurb but i think im genuinely unable to write anything that isn’t like around 1k words (´；ω；｀) i don’t really have anything else to say besides i hope i get motivation to write one of the million fic ideas i have saved in my notes soon.

as always hope you enjoy!! ✧*。٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و✧*。

Zayne is a strong man. Emotionally strong that is. The countless years he spent both studying and working in the medical field gave him thick skin and it made it difficult for things to truly get to him. It takes a lot for something to hit him in the heart and truly bring him down.

However, the one thing he absolutely can’t stand is you crying. Something about it he doesn’t truly know what. Something about the way your eyes tilt downwards with your head soon following, the small tremble of your lips he knows you’re fighting to keep still, the tear-glazed distant look in your eyes that just shows how hard you’re fighting back tears, nothing breaks his heart more.

Zayne knows, he knows he can be oh so overbearing when it comes to your health and safety, but god he can’t help it. Nothing worries him more than your, in his opinion fragile, wellbeing. Everyday on his drive to the hospital he prays to whatever god is out there that will listen to him that he won’t see you during his shift, at least not you being wheeled in through the back doors, completely unconscious on a gurney. He can’t even handle the thought of it.

It leads to his constant nagging over you. His constant worry. His constant lectures and scoldings whenever you even slightly overlook your health.

Which led to here. Another conversation that began as an overbearing reminder to take your medicine, only for Zayne to quickly discover you haven’t been taking recently. You’ve already had a tiring and stressful day and didn’t have any energy to fight back at him. So instead, you just stood there in front of him. Only looking at him as he continued his scolding on how important it was to take your medicine, why you need it, and never forgetting to remind you of just how fragile you truly are.

All you could do was look back at him, and just take everything he had to say without a fight. Not like you had the energy to speak anyways. To be honest, you didn’t even have the energy to think, or to even listen to him in that matter. All you really heard is just his upset voice, saying what?You’re not really sure, but his tone was enough to make you feel inferior.

Zayne didn’t notice. He honestly couldn’t. He was too caught up in his worries and imagination of what could possibly happen to you to be able to properly see you, but in the middle of his rant he did. He saw the look on your face that absolutely breaks his heart and makes him want to fall to his knees. He saw your head hung low, you fighting your trembling bottom lip, your downcast, distant eyes, that had tears in the brink of flowing through your pretty eyelashes and falling onto those darling cheeks he loves; especially when he sees them rise and round out whenever you smile.

And when he sees it, he stops. Instantly.

There is a quick moment of silence where he hesitates. Where he hears your uneven, haggard breathing and mentally scolds himself, grimacing at his actions.

He takes a few steps over to you and leans down to hold your face in his hands. Lifting it up so he can see you properly, however your eyes don’t follow and remain locked onto your fuzzy-socked feet. His gentle hold, contrasting his previous tone made it so difficult to keep it together. Just as he noticed a tear welling up to fall from your eyes he gently kisses it away before it could reach any further than the corner of your eye.

He softly rubs the apple of your cheek trying to coax you to bring your eyes up to him.

“Look at me… Please?” Zayne says ever so gently.

You knew if you did you wouldn’t be able to hold back your tears anymore, but the soft rub of his thumb brings your eyes up to look back at him. The moment you do, his eyes soften in guilt and regret, a slight frown forming on his lips when he sees your eyes welling up with more tears.

He slightly stands up, just enough to place a soft, delicate kiss on your forehead as he whispers against it.

“I’m sorry.”

Then you can’t hold it anymore. A soft gasp for air leaves your lips as tears begin to flow from your eyes. Zayne slowly pulls you into his chest, holding your head and running his fingers up and down your back in an effort to comfort you. In an effort to get you to forgive him. In an effort to get you to stop.

Guilt spreads throughout his whole body as he listens to your sobs and feels your tears wetting his shirt. He whispers apologies to you, offering soft kisses on the top of your head in between each one.

He’ll make it up to you. He doesn’t know exactly how yet, but he will. He’ll do anything. Whatever it takes to stop the flow of tears and broken sobs. Whatever it takes to see those darling, rosy cheeks rise up with the sweetest, brightest smile he’s ever seen. He’d do it in a heartbeat; because there is nothing, nothing Dr. Zayne can’t stand more than you crying.

[atlabeth]

something about her

masterlist

pairing: spencer reid x fem gideon!reader

summary: you’re reminded why you’re really here while spencer does some unwanted self reflection.

a/n: things have been a little too fun and fluffy around these parts so i had to fix it. it’s easy to forget you’re still dealing w a stalker when you’re busy living in denial <3 enjoy the mess! this whole thing is in spencer's pov bc this all got soooo far away from me

title from the song by stephen sanchez

wc: 5.3k

warning(s): things start to ramp up! stalking, anxiety, lowkey panic attacks, angst, hurt/comfort, r almost has a panic attack, alcohol/mentions of alcoholism, the usual. but more bonding!!

Spencer can’t sleep. 

He’s tried every trick in the book. Counting sheep, counting to one hundred, counting to one hundred backwards, going through the alphabet, going through the alphabet backwards, methods with actual scientific research backing them—none of it works. He’s stared at the ceiling for most of the night. 

He feels like a hypocrite most of all, preaching the importance of adequate sleep when he’ll be lucky to get five hours. But it looks like you barely sleep as is. He probably should keep preaching to you. 

There’s a myriad of reasons to explain it. His hyperactive brain has been responsible for many restless nights. He’s still in unfamiliar territory, and he hasn’t gotten used to sleeping on this bed yet. Lest he forget, he’s your first and only line of protection here from your stalker. That’s enough to keep anyone awake, even FBI. 

But then there’s also… you in general. 

Spencer can’t say he tries not to think about you, because this past week it’s felt like the only thing he’s thought about. 

It’s practically impossible, even before you were shoved into this house together. You have a way of tunneling your way into a person’s mind and refusing to leave—especially his. 

Again, it’s easy enough to pass off. You’re the only ones here, and the time you’re not spending alone you’re spending with each other. Your only choice beyond isolation is to talk to Spencer, and it seems you’re slowly moving past preferring it over him. 

But he doesn’t think he can just pass this off.

He can’t get your smile out of his head. Your moments of levity are so few and far between that it makes them shine bright as the sun. Spencer has learned he loves how you look when you’re happy. He just wishes it wasn’t such a rarity.

Gideon’s lecture rings in his ears. He really had two jobs—keep you safe, and don’t fall for you. Hopefully he only fails the one. 

It’s not like he has to worry about it, though. You might not hate him as much anymore, but you still don’t really like him. As much as it bums him out, it’s for the best. It means that in a week or two, when the team has caught the unsub and all this is over, you can both go your separate ways and you’ll never have to see Spencer again. 

That bums him out even more, though. 

He lets out a long sigh. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised. JJ, Elle, now you—Morgan would say he really knew how to pick ‘em. Girls who didn’t like him back. 

Just then his phone rings, jolting him out what could have been a convincing play for sleep if not for his thoughts, and he groans a little. Spencer fumbles around for it without lifting his head from the pillow, only turning slightly so he can flick it open and place it against his ear. 

“Gideon, why are you calling this early?” he mumbles. 

“I hope you’re treating her well.”

The gravelly voice through the speaker is a shock, and Spencer doesn’t really process it. His brain still hasn’t turned on. 

“Gideon?” he asks again. 

“I know you ran away. Trying to protect her like you have any right.” 

His blood goes cold as the words finally register. 

This is their unsub. This— this is your stalker. 

“What do you want?” he asks, unable to keep the sharp edge out of his words. 

“You’ve hurt her the same way he has,” the voice continues. “He’s ruined our lives and you don’t care.”

Spencer’s mind is simultaneously blank and running wild. He knows he should try to profile him or talk to him to get something out of him but— but all he feels is anger. 

“What do you want?” he repeats, louder this time. 

“Think about your priorities, Agent Reid. I’ll be watching.” 

The disconnected tone blares in his ear before he can say anything else, and Spencer stares down at his phone in confused annoyance. 

What kind of bullshit game is this guy trying to play with you? 

First he stalks you for a month—possibly months— then sends pictures of you to your door, then forces you into hiding and now he’s just mocking you like this? 

If Gideon is the goal, this bastard is doing a great job of dragging you along. 

Spencer’s heart jumps into his throat all of a sudden. You. 

He grabs his gun off his bedside table then lunges to the door with all the athleticism of a newborn baby giraffe, nearly tripping in his haste to get out into the hallway. He slams your door open once he gets to your room, and the relief that floods through his body when you shoot up from your previously sleeping position is almost dangerous. 

“Spencer?” you grumble, still completely out of it as you rub your eyes. “What the fuck are you doing?” 

You’re alive. You’re okay. You’re still here. 

He opens his mouth to respond, still kind of out of breath, when his phone rings again. Spencer takes it out and is already pressing it to his ear. 

“What the hell do you want from her?” he barks. The absolute nerve of your stalker to call back—

“Reid, it’s me.”

It’s Gideon’s voice that comes out of the speaker this time, and Spencer feels the wave of red hot rage boiling in his stomach crash against a wall of confusion. 

“I—” He swallows deeply, his eyes flicking over to your befuddled expression momentarily before he feels himself flush bright red and look away. “I’m so sorry, sir. I thought you were someone else.” 

“You got a call?”

His blood runs cold. “You mean you got one too?”

Gideon curses and he hears him move around. Pacing in his bedroom, if Spencer knew anything about him. “Tell me my daughter is safe.”

“She— she is,” he stammers. “I’m with her right now.”

“Spencer, what the fuck is going on?” You’re sitting up now, much more aware than you were fifteen seconds ago. “Why do you have your gun— why are you talking to my dad?”

“Do a perimeter check,” Gideon demands. “If he’s there—”

“I know.” Spencer looks back at you and sighs. “You should talk to her.”

“I know,” Gideon echoes. “Let her stay on the line with me while you figure things out.”

He nods and takes the phone from his ear. “Gideon wants to talk with you.”

You’re standing up now, a dumbfounded expression on your face. “Hold on, you still haven’t answered me! What is going on?”

“I got a call from our guy,” he says. Your eyes widen and he can see your chest still. His heart clenches at the sight. “Gideon did too.”

“What?” you breathe. “Wh— what did he want?”

“To scare you.” Spencer holds up his gun. “Can you hide in the closet while I do a perimeter check?”

You scoff. Your demeanor is still shaken, but the fire is more prominent. He’s started to admire that about you. “Spencer, I am not hiding in the closet.”

“Then lock yourself in the bathroom again!” he exclaims. He doesn’t mean for the outburst, but he can’t help it. “Just— I can’t focus if I’m worried about you, and right now the only thing I can think of is how worried I am about you, so I need to know you’re safe while I do this.”

You stare at him, and Spencer stares right back, if a little frantic. He feels his chest rise and fall from the force, a stark contrast to your still body—similar to the panic he knows is in his eyes to the steely cool of yours. 

“I’m not letting you potentially face an insane stalker by yourself,” you finally say. 

Spencer huffs. “I am an FBI agent. I’ve faced worse things than insane stalkers.”

“We’ve been together this whole time,” you insist. “We— we can do this together too.” 

He looks at you again—he can tell you’re not going to move on this. Spencer eventually sighs and holds the phone back up to his ear. 

“I’m assuming you heard that?” 

“Let her go with you,” Gideon says. “It’s riskier for her to be on her own than outside with you. But stay on the line, and stay alert. Nothing can happen to her—do you understand?” 

“I won’t let anything happen to her,” he says. “I meant what I said.” 

“...Good.” 

Spencer holds the phone out to you again, and your lip curls. 

“I’m not—” 

“Come on,” he interrupts, gesturing with his head into the hallway. 

Your annoyance melts into acknowledgement when you realize he’s not blowing you off again, and you nod as you take the phone. Spencer wraps both hands around his gun as he starts moving, you matching his pace as you follow him. 

“Yeah, Dad,” he hears you say behind him. “I’m here.” 

This is what he meant by you needing to stay behind. He’s worried about you more than anything, yes, but he also can’t help but listen. Spencer has very keen ears, to everyone’s simultaneous disdain and appreciation on the team—it makes him a very good asset in the field, but also a very good asset when it comes time for office gossip. 

“No, nothing’s happened yet. Yes— yes, I’m okay, I promise. Spencer’s done an annoyingly good job of keeping me safe.” 

Once Spencer reaches the door, he peers through the peephole to make sure their unsub isn’t embarrassingly obvious. It’s clear, and he turns to face you and raises a hand, then places his finger on his lips. 

“Uh— I have to go dark for a sec,” you say. “We’re checking the perimeter. Don’t worry, I’ll scream if anyone tries to kill me. Be back soon.” 

You pull the phone away from your ear and nod at Spencer, and he holds his breath before he opens the door. 

The frigid air hits both of you at once, and he hears then sees your sharp exhale of breath. It’s been a while since either of you have been outside, but it’s good to know he hasn’t been missing superb weather. 

“Stay close and stay quiet,” Spencer whispers. “I’m your only line of defense out here.” 

He expects you to shoot back with some remark, but you merely nod in response. Spencer hopes he hides the shock he feels before he turns away and starts walking. 

Dawn isn’t for a few more hours—the only real light source is the moon high in the night sky. It doesn't exactly help his nerves to be doing all this in the dark, but part of him is almost thankful to be doing this. Spencer doesn’t know how to deal with you or any of the emotions you stir inside of him or the sleepless nights you cause because he can’t stop thinking of you—but he knows how to do his job, and he knows how to do it damn well. 

He just wishes it didn’t have to come with the unfortunate side effect of you being in immense danger. 

But Spencer does his best to push those thoughts to the back of his mind—right now, he has to have one focus. 

And he does. The two of you stick close to the side of the house, his eyes darting all over as he tries to dig out any details, any possible sign that the unsub was here. The ground is still a thin layer of mud from the storm last night, so it should be easy to find footprints. Spencer’s Converse aren’t doing a great job at keeping him upright—slipping in front of you is too embarrassing for him to even think about. 

All of a sudden, he stops, his arm shooting out in front of you. You don’t realize it for a second and you run into him, your hand wrapping around his arm on instinct to steady yourself. If he wasn’t so shocked at what he was looking at, he would have been bright red over it. 

“What the h—” 

“Footprints,” he whispers.  “Th— they’re almost gone, but—” 

“He was here?” you interrupt. Fear spikes in your voice and your grip tightens on his arm. 

“Last night, maybe.” Spencer swallows the doubt in his throat. It doesn’t matter what he thinks, how he feels—he’s not going to make you feel worse. “The rain probably washed most of them away.” 

“Spencer—”

“I am surprised these are still here, though,” he continues. “The rainfall was really heavy. I wouldn’t expect them to stay in mud like this—” 

“Spencer, look where we are!” you exclaim, gesturing hard with your other hand. He realizes that you’ve let go of his arm by now, but he pushes it out of his head and looks. 

“The window to your room,” he says. The blinds are closed and the lock is in place—he’s made sure every night—but there are small enough gaps between the shutters. 

“He was watching us last night!” Your breathing is starting to come heavier and faster now. “We talked about all that shit and he was just here watching and we didn’t even fucking know!” 

You’re on the edge of hyperventilating. Spencer has got to get you down or else you’re going to have a full blown panic attack out here. 

“Hey, hey— look at me.” He says your name and that, if anything else, gets you to listen and meet his eyes. They’re filled with an unbridled fear he hasn’t seen in you until now. “Don’t think about him. Don’t think about any of this. He’s not here.” 

“He was watching us—” 

“And we’ll figure out what to do next. But you have to stay calm. You can’t let him win.” 

You’re still harried, your chest rising and falling rapidly as your eyes dart all around. Spencer says your name softly, tucks his gun into its holster, then takes your hands in his, hoping that it gives you something to focus that isn’t the rest of this. 

“Just look at me,” he says softly. 

You suck in another shaky breath, but you’re not as frantic as before. You at least look him in the eye, and you don’t wrench your hands out of his grasp. Progress, if nothing else. 

“Breathe with me.” 

You nod—still panicked, but better. Spencer breathes in deep and you do the same, following as he counts up and down with his fingers. It takes a few rounds, but eventually, he’s gotten you off the edge. 

Spencer says your name again, just as soft as before. You’re still breathing slowly in and out. 

“How do you feel?” 

“Better,” you murmur. “I—” 

You’re interrupted by the phone you both forgot was in your hand, Gideon’s voice muddled as it comes from the receiver. You rip your hands out of Spencer’s as you come back into yourself, shaking your head and blinking a few times while you take a few steps away from him. 

“I’m here, Dad,” you say. “We— we’re okay. No, nothing happened.” 

Spencer blinks too. He looks down at his hands, then glances at you, then shakes his head. He walks back over to the footprint and crouches down, trying to keep his mind clear. He commits every detail he can to memory, doing his best to ignore the conversation with your dad in the background. 

Well, he tunes in a little. He can’t help it—he wants to make sure you’re okay. 

“We found a footprint outside my room,” you’re saying. “Spencer thinks it’s your guy. I have no idea. Yes, we are. You don’t have to be so pushy.” You sigh and he feels your gaze on him. “Spencer, we have to finish this up. Dad wants us back inside.” 

He clears his throat as he nods a few times. “Let me get a picture of this first.” 

You hand him the phone and Spencer snaps some photos from a few different angles, hoping forensics will be able to get anything out of it. He hears Gideon’s voice again and he holds it to his ear once more. 

“Gideon?” 

“Reid, get her back inside,” he says. “We can’t take any unnecessary risks.” 

“We haven’t finished securing the perimeter,” he says. 

“Then finish it and get back inside!” he exclaims. “You have proof that he was there—” 

“We don’t know it’s him,” Spencer interrupts. 

“We know there was somebody there!” Gideon shoots back. “I’m not risking her, and from what I’ve heard, you don’t want to either.” 

Spencer feels his cheeks warm as he looks back at you, and he pulls his gun back out of its holster. “Come on. We have to finish this up.” 

“That’s what I said,” you mutter, but you follow him without further protest. 

The rest of the check goes by quickly without any other distractions or surprises, and soon enough you’re back inside. While Spencer chats with Gideon, updating him in a calmer manner on everything with the phone call and the footprint, you’re ruffling through the cabinets. 

Eventually, he sees you pull out a bottle of clear liquid from the corner of his eye. He frowns and realizes that it’s vodka. 

“It’s 4:29 in the morning,” Spencer says, cutting off Gideon almost absentmindedly as you pop the bottle open. 

“And we found out that this place isn’t nearly as safe as anyone thought,” you respond sharply. “I think that warrants some drinking.” 

“That means that you should have a clear mind,” he says. “Alcohol impairs your brain’s communication pathways, as well as your judgment and coordination.” 

“I’ve gotten drunk before, genius,” you mutter as you search for a glass. You end up choosing a the mug you used for coffee the other morning then start pouring. “Enough to know it’s what I need right now.” 

“It can also cause mood swings,” Spencer says. “I think that’s the last thing you need right now.”

You roll your eyes, not even bothering to look back at him as you finish pouring a concerning amount of liquor into the mug. 

“What is going on over there?” Gideon asks. Spencer remembers he’s holding the phone and he puts it back to his ear. 

“I think your daughter is an alcoholic,” he comments. 

“I’m not an alcoholic,” you say sharply. “I just can’t focus on all this right now.” 

“It’s best if she gets some sleep,” Gideon says. “All of this is likely terrifying to her, no matter how hard she tries to hide it.” 

Spencer’s mind flashes back to your near panic attack—your wide eyes full of fear and harried breathing that only made you hyperventilate more when you realized you couldn’t control it. It’s too easy to think of you as some untouchable being from the way you interact with him, bothered by nothing and no one. 

The mask cracks on rare occasion. It makes you seem frighteningly real. 

“You’re right,” Spencer nods. You sip your drink without flinching. He doesn’t think he can even call it a drink if it’s just straight liquor. “We could all use some sleep.” 

“Just make sure she’s safe,” he says. “Make sure the whole place is secure. We’re not—” 

“Taking risks,” he finishes. “Believe me, I know.” 

Gideon is silent for a second, and Spencer takes the time to look at you. The bags under your eyes are even more prominent, and there’s a haunted glint in your eyes as you stare at the wall. You shiver ever so slightly, the outside chill still lingering on your skin. You’ve got pajama pants on but just a plain tee. You didn’t have time to put a sweatshirt on before he pulled you outside in the mania of it all. 

You really are beautiful—but you’re so damn tired. 

Spencer realizes that all he wants to do is give you some respite. 

“I’ll call you back later, then,” Gideon says. “To check in.” 

“Okay.” Spencer’s throat bobs as he averts his eyes from you. “Get some rest too, Gideon.” 

The other end hangs up without a response. Spencer stares down at the phone for a few seconds then sighs before he tucks it back into his pocket. 

“What’d he want?” you ask. 

“I can’t believe you’re drinking vodka out of a coffee mug at four in the morning.”

You frown. “You don’t get to judge me.” 

“It’s not good for you.” 

“None of this is good for me,” you enunciate. “What did my dad want?”

“I’m serious,” Spencer continues. “Drinking on an empty stomach can lead to low blood sugar— drinking at this hour is going to completely disrupt your circadian rhythm.” 

“You know what else has disrupted my circadian rhythm?” you ask mockingly. “Being here. Having a stalker. Finding out that said stalker was also here, watching us. I think that’s a little worse for me than the alcohol.” 

Spencer stares at you, and as you’re prone to do, you stare back. Eventually, he shakes his head and looks away, deciding to quit while he’s ahead. 

“He wants you to get some sleep,” he says. “Wants us both to.” 

You scoff and shake your head, downing much more vodka than you should in one go. Again, you don’t flinch—for a schoolteacher, you handle your liquor very well. “Like I’d get to sleep after this.” 

“It’s important,” Spencer insists. “You’ve gotten— what? Three hours of sleep?” 

“Well, all this excitement has woken me up,” you say. 

“Well, I’m tired,” Spencer says. “So I guess I’ll see you in a few hours.” 

He starts to walk to his room, figuring that you need time to cool off, when—

“Wait.” 

Your voice is oddly strangled, and Spencer stops in his tracks. 

“I—” you stop and sigh, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. “I don’t want to be alone right now.” 

“Our rooms are close to each other,” he says. “I’ll be able to hear if you yell.” 

You rub your eyes as you let out another haggard sigh. “I can’t stand to be in that room, Spencer. Not knowing that— that he was right there.” 

Spencer can’t look away from you. Your eyes glint with tears you’re trying to hold back, but you’re laid bare in a way he knows you hate. 

You’re being pushed to your limits against your will, and it kills him that he can’t do anything to help you. Honestly, sometimes he feels useless being stuck here while the rest of the team is out there actively working to help you. All he can do is stand around here and annoy you. 

Except you want him there. For the first time since all of this has started, you want him there. 

It’s the only thing he can do for you right now. How can he refuse? 

“Okay,” he says softly, and he nods. “Okay. We can share my room tonight.” 

The tension in your shoulders fades ever so slightly, and you—thankfully—set the mug down. “Keep your gun close.” 

“I’m not sure you want me shooting when I’m sleep deprived,” Spencer says. 

Your lips twitch just so, and Spencer’s heart skips a beat. He can’t help it. 

He should have known he was in too deep the moment he stepped into this house with you. 

-

“Very cozy,” you say. 

“It’s the same as your room,” Spencer responds. 

You shrug. “It’s messy. Makes it feel like home.” 

He feels his face flush. “I haven’t really been focused on keeping things clean.” 

“Relax.” You sit down on the bed. “I’m not judging you.” 

“Good.” Spencer glances at you as he moves his bag off of your side of the bed. “Because that would be very rude after the generosity I’ve shown you.” 

You laugh and Spencer finds himself smiling at the sound of it. He’s glad he’s turned away, and he’s glad he manages to push it away by the time he’s turned back around. 

You’re wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants now, and it’s strange to see you look so… soft. Every part of you is so sharp, some of it jagged—sometimes you harden around him, sometimes you mellow. He’s a bit tired of the back and forth. 

Maybe that’s what makes him speak up. 

“I’m tired of us always being at odds.” 

Your eyebrows rise and you look at him. “Really?” 

Spencer nods, his will bolstered. “Really. We have a nice talk one night, and I feel like we’ve had a breakthrough, and then you go back to hating me the next morning. I’m— I’m sick of it.” 

He expects you to shoot back with some mocking comment like you always do, making fun of him for wanting more than what little you give him. But instead, you lay back against the pillows and shrug. 

“Okay.” 

He blinks. “Really?” 

“Really,” you nod. “I’m too tired to want to fight right now.” 

“You’re the one that always tries to fight me.” 

“Aren’t you fighting me right now?” 

Spencer shakes his head. “You’re unbelievable.” 

You chuckle. “Still fighting.” 

He stares at you. As usual, you stare back, but this time you can’t fully bite back your smile. For some reason, that gets Spencer to break. He smiles too, and he settles down on the bed next to you. There’s a pillow buffer between you, but it’s still a lot closer than he’s used to. 

Well, he did hold your hands earlier, but that’s because he was bringing you down from a panic attack. That doesn’t mean anything. 

“What a day,” he mutters. 

“And it hasn’t even started yet,” you muse. “I don’t know how you do this kind of shit every day.” 

“I’m not really the target of any of this,” he says. “I usually stay behind the scenes. I’m good with geographical profiles, not chasing down unsubs.” 

You look over at him. “You haven’t really talked about anything you do for the BAU.” 

Spencer shrugs. “I thought it would be a sore subject.” 

You pause. “You’re… probably right.” 

“I figured.” He chuckles, then glances over at you. “But you already know enough about me. You said you would talk about your job. Teaching, and your kids, and all that.” 

Your eyebrows rise. “You actually care?”

Spencer gives you a look. “I thought we were past that part in our friendship.”

“We’re not friends.”

He shrugs. “Whatever you say.”

You roll your eyes, but you go on anyway. “I’m a highschool teacher in Fairfax. You know Mount Vernon High?” 

Spencer nods. “I know the name of every high school in Virginia.” 

“Of course you do,” you huff. “But that’s besides the point. I did my student teacher hours there, and they offered me a full time position. I took it, so I guess I’ve been there since senior year.” You purse your lips. “It’s a little depressing when you look at it like that.” 

“Then don’t look at it like that,” he say. “You said you loved your job.” 

“I do!” You smile again, a bit lighter this time. “My teachers were a huge part of my life, especially in high school.” The lightness fades some, but he notices how you try to hide it. “If I could help even one kid the same way my teachers helped me, then I would have done something with my life.” 

“That’s very noble of you,” Spencer says. “I don’t think I ever would have guessed you were a teacher.” 

“Oh, please,” you say. “You’re a profiler. You’d figure it out.” 

“You wouldn’t know I work with the FBI at first glance.” 

“Well, I’m not a profiler. Besides,” you tip a shoulder, “I have the ulterior motive of wanting to introduce kids to the wonders of physics.” 

Spencer’s eyes light up. “You’re a physics teacher?” 

“I teach a load of science classes, but I carry the banner for AP physics.” You huff a laugh. “You’re probably the only one that doesn’t sound lame to.” 

“I love physics!” he exclaims. “I’ve got a PhD in engineering, remember?” 

You smile— no, you actually grin at him, and he can’t believe he finally broke through the barrier with science. 

“Trust me, I’d love to talk physics with you, boy genius, but—” you’re interrupted with a yawn, and Spencer resists the urge to do the same— “but I think I’m actually about to fall asleep.”  

Spencer shakes his head with a small laugh. He realizes that he’s relaxed while you’ve been talking, limbs looser and fully laying back against the pillows. 

“This was actually part of my master plan to get you to rest,” he says. “Talking science always works with the team.” 

He sees you smile out of his peripherals as you lay fully down, can feel every shift of your body against the mattress while you try to find a good position. 

“It wasn’t you,” you say. “It was the vodka.” 

 “Of course,” he agrees. 

Silence falls over the room as the two of you settle in. You take off your sweatshirt, a slight shiver running through you once you’re back in your tank top. Spencer removes his glasses, and he blinks a few times to adjust to the blurriness.

The bed is big enough for you to both have your own space,, and you’re both careful to keep your backs to each other. The silence is comfortable despite the previous animosity. Maybe all it really did take was for him to start talking science. 

Eventually, though—

“Thank you, Spencer.” Your voice is little more than a whisper, but it cuts through the silence like a knife. “I— I know you don’t like me. So it means a lot that you still do all this for me.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, taking your words in. The mingled sounds of your breathing are really the only things filling the room, and he can feel your weight against the mattress. It’s all oddly intimate. 

“You’re wrong.” He’s almost surprised at the sound of his own voice. “I do like you.” 

Your shock shows through the silence. Spencer takes his chance. 

“You’re going through something no one should ever have to experience, and you’re doing it with someone you think stole your life from you.” Spencer shifts ever so slightly. His hands feel inexplicably clammy. “It was unfair of me to take Gideon’s side so often.” 

“Still.” Your words are muffled as you speak half into the mattress. “We have more important things to worry about. It was unfair of me to spend so much time giving you shit. You— you didn’t even know I existed until a month ago.” 

“But now I do.” He pauses. “And I’m glad I do. So you can start looking forward instead of always looking back.” 

Again, silence. It lasts so long Spencer wonders if you’ve fallen asleep. Your breathing is thankfully steady (a side of him is always focused on your breathing just to make sure) and you don’t shift much, so he wouldn’t be surprised. You were exhausted—

“Spencer?” 

His eyes open. He didn’t even realize they had closed. You sound half-asleep, your voice nothing more than a whisper. He wishes more than anything he knew what was going through your mind right now. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m glad you’re here.” 

His heart stutters so blatantly he’s sure you can hear it. Spencer honestly doesn’t know what to say—his mouth is so dry he doesn’t know if he can say anything. 

Spencer thought you hated him. You thought Spencer hated you. 

It’s ironic. 

“Me too,” he eventually manages. 

But there’s no response. You must’ve already fallen asleep again, just conscious enough to say a few words. The rude awakening mixed with the fear and alcohol couldn’t have done you much good. 

Spencer swallows the doubt in his throat and closes his eyes again, trying not to focus on you. It’s practically impossible. 

He’s glad, at least, that you’re able to sleep. You deserve to rest more than anyone. 

Eventually, the sound of your breathing lulls Spencer to sleep. 

You were the one thing he didn’t have on his list.

[scoupsakakitty]

LOOOOOVE YOUR BLOG i'm literally obsessed with idol!scoups fics and u r soooo good in writing them <333

not sure if you are open to requests but in case that you are, i'd love to see an angsty one with idol!scoups, maybe one where they fight ??? and cheol has to go on tour or work or something so they're not okay for quite a while and make up once he gets home :(((

Silent Apologies | idol!Scoups x Reader | angst, fluff

The argument had started over something small—something stupid, really—but it had escalated far beyond what either of them expected.

"You always do this, Seungcheol!" Y/N's voice wavered with frustration as she stood in the middle of their living room, arms crossed tightly over her chest. "You shut me out, and then you expect me to just be okay with it!"

Seungcheol ran a hand through his hair, his patience already frayed. "Because I don’t want to fight with you, Y/N! I’m exhausted, I have so much on my plate, and the last thing I need is another argument!"

"So what? You think I don’t get tired too? That I don’t have feelings?" Her voice cracked slightly, but she refused to let it show any weakness. "You act like you're the only one who has problems, but you're never here anymore!"

His jaw clenched. "You knew what you were getting into when we started this! My schedule isn’t something I can just change!"

"I'm not asking you to change it, Seungcheol! I'm asking you to at least talk to me about it instead of pushing me away!"

He exhaled sharply, looking away. "I can't do this right now."

Y/N scoffed, hurt flashing across her face. "Of course you can’t. You always run away the second things get hard."

That was the last straw. His temper snapped. "You think I run away? I do everything I can to keep this together! I'm trying my best, Y/N! But maybe my best isn't enough for you!"

Silence followed his outburst, thick and suffocating. The words hung between them like a wound neither could take back. Y/N swallowed, blinking away the sting in her eyes. "Maybe it’s not."

The finality in her voice made Seungcheol’s stomach drop, but he was too proud—too angry—to reach for her. Instead, he turned on his heel, grabbing his jacket. "I have a flight to catch."

Y/N watched as he walked to the door. "Fine. Go."

The door slammed behind him.

The flight to Indonesia felt longer than it should have. Seungcheol sat in his seat, staring blankly at the screen in front of him, but all he could think about was her. The look in her eyes before he left. The way her voice had cracked. The way he had let his anger win instead of fixing things.

His chest ached with regret.

By the time the concert rolled around, he was running on autopilot. His members noticed. His energy was off. His mind wasn’t there. Even as he stood in front of thousands of fans, singing and dancing like he’d done a hundred times before, his heart wasn’t in it. Because his heart was somewhere else.

With her.

When the final song ended and the cheers filled the venue, Seungcheol barely let the sound settle before he rushed backstage. He ignored the cameras, the staff, the lingering adrenaline. He needed to get home.

Y/N had spent the last two days drowning in her own guilt. She hated the way they had left things, hated the last words they had exchanged.

What if something happened to him while he was away? What if those words were the last thing they ever said to each other?

The thought alone had made her sick to her stomach. So, instead of wallowing in regret, she did what she could to make things right. She cleaned the apartment from top to bottom, made sure everything was perfect. And then, she cooked. She made all of Seungcheol’s favorite dishes, the ones he always craved after long flights. Because she knew that he would come back to her.

And then, as if her heart had called out to him, the front door swung open.

Seungcheol stood there, exhausted and breathless, his suitcase slipping from his fingers and hitting the floor with a dull thud. But Y/N didn’t care about that.

She ran to him.

His arms were around her in seconds, crushing her against his chest as if he was afraid she might disappear if he let go. "I'm so sorry," he murmured into her hair. "I shouldn't have left like that. I shouldn't have said what I did."

Tears pricked at her eyes as she buried her face in his shoulder. "I was so worried about you. I hated the way we ended things."

"Me too," he admitted, pulling back just enough to cup her face in his hands. His thumbs brushed over her cheeks, his gaze soft but filled with remorse. "I never want to fight like that again."

She nodded, leaning into his touch. "Me neither."

A small smile tugged at her lips as she grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the kitchen. "Come on, I made your favorite."

Seungcheol's eyes softened even more when he saw the food on the table. "You really made all this?"

She bit her lip, suddenly shy. "I just… I wanted to do something for you."

His heart swelled with affection. "You didn’t have to, but thank you."

They sat down together, the tension of the past few days melting away as they ate. Seungcheol kept reaching for her hand between bites, as if he needed to remind himself that she was still there, that they were okay.

And they were.

Because no matter how bad the fights got, no matter how far apart they were, they always found their way back to each other.

[wosospacegirl]

And they were roommates - part 2

Summary: Y/n gets injured and has to stay in recovery for 8 months. It's a good thing her friend and teammate Kyra is more than willing to move in with her. wink wink

Warnings: angst; hurt/comfort; reader might have a crush on Kyra ;)

Word count: 3.4k

| PART 1 HERE |

Over the next few days, Kyra and Y/n settle into a comfortable, domestic routine.

Kyra was the first to wake up each day. She went straight to Y/n’s room to check on her and give her her morning medication, along with a cup of black coffee.

Y/n didn’t like mornings, especially now with the heavy cast on her leg. Kyra, on the other hand, loved mornings, so she sat by Y/n’s bed and chatted for 20 minutes straight while Y/n nodded along to whatever Kyra was saying.

“—And that's how we’re beating Man United this weekend,” Kyra concluded after a long thought process about technical strategies that would lead the Gunners to yet another victory. “I mean, they can’t keep putting her as a winger, right?” Kyra turned to Y/n, waiting for her to nod again.

“How can you have so much to say at 7 am?” Y/n asked, hiding her face in her pillow.

“I just do, it’s a talent, you wouldn’t know it, Grumpy,” Kyra shrugged and threw herself on the bed next to Y/n, the sunlight hitting Kyra’s freckles.

Kyra was wearing tracksuit bottoms and an old, oversized t-shirt, she looked pretty, comfy, and very cuddly too.

“Will you come with me today?” Kyra asked, changing the subjects, caution in her voice.

“Where?” Y/n asked confused, her eyebrows furrowed. She wasn’t supposed to go to physiotherapy or the doctor for another two weeks.

“Training?” Kyra explained, holding her head with one hand as she rested her elbow on the mattress. “They miss you, the girls, I mean. You could go there for a few hours, talk to Alessia, Leah, Steph… I bet Win misses you too,”

“I’m not in the mood,” Y/n said, turning her back to Kyra. Y/n missed the girls, but it would be too upsetting to see them running around while she could barely stand on her own.

“You’ve said that the last three times, Y/n” Kyra sighed. “You haven’t left the house, not once, and you also won’t talk to anyone but me and your mom. That’s worrying. You can’t just wait for me to come home every day, you also need to do relaxing and fun things for yourself.” Y/n felt a pleasant pressure on her shoulder. It was Kyra’s hand.

You can’t just stay here in bed and rot, maybe you could start a new hobby! Painting, sudoku, I don’t know!””Kyra continued, using the serious tone she never used with Y/n. “You need to see people, see your friends, get some fresh air.

Y/n rolled her eyes. “And do what? Talk about how miserable I am all the time?” Y/n said bitterly.

Kyra didn’t understand.

She had never been seriously injured before, she didn’t know what it was like to just go to bed every day not knowing what the future held. Football was everything to Y/n. It was her passion, her hobby and her career. Ninety per cent of her friends were footballers themselves, her whole social circle revolved around football.

Without it, she was nothing Football’s been her thing since she was a kid. Y/n had grown up with a ball on her feet, and now it was gone, and she didn’t know if she would get it back. Right now, Y/n was nothing.

Kyra pressed her lips together and stared at the girl, trying to think of what to say.

“Go away please, I want to be alone,” Y/n muttered after the room had gone quiet.

“No,” Kyra said. “Let’s talk about this, let’s—”

“Go. Away.” Y/n snapped.

Y/n felt the shift in the mattress. Kyra wasn’t sitting on it anymore. “You can’t keep pushing people away, it’ll only hurt you even more,” Kyra said quietly. “You can’t let yourself go like that, you know how easy it is for us athletes to get depressed after an injury, I don’t want that to happen to you.”

“I’m not depressed, Kyra!” Y/n locked eyes with the other girl, anger slowly building in her chest. “I just don’t have anything! If I talk to the girls all I’ll think about is how they’re playing and I’m not.

“You don’t have anything?!” Kyra raised her voice. “What do you mean you have nothing? You’re not just your fucking leg, or your football—You’re a whole person! Just because you can’t play right now doesn’t mean you have no worth.”

Y/n remained silent as Kyra’s voice escalated. Kyra was starting to get angry with her. Kyra had never been angry with her before.

“You are injured! Your tibia split in two, of course, it’ll take some time to heal. Does that mean you have to stay in the house for the remaining months? Of course not!” Kyra’s face was flushed, and she was out of breath.

“Kyra, my whole life had been inside a pitch, I don’t know how the fuck to live without knowing if I’ll ever be in one again!” Y/n exploded, pointing at her cast “And this fucking leg hurts all the time, it’s always a reminder of how unhappy I am and how the world kept on moving while I just stay here!”

“But you don’t have to just stay here! You are the one who is avoiding the world, but it hasn’t stopped for you, it never has! Especially because you have people who care about you! You would know that if you would answered your phone when your friends called,” Kyra rubbed her eyes, tiredly.

“Why is it so hard for you to be kind and patient with yourself?” Kyra asked, looking genuinely confused, trying to find the answer to her question on Y/n’s face. “It’s so easy to treat you well, I don’t know why you find it so difficult.”

Kyra finally took a deep breath, and then another.

“Okay, I’m calm now. I’m sorry,” Kyra said, unclenching her fist. “I didn’t mean to get mad at you, I know you’re frustrated and angry right now. I just wish you’d be more compassionate with yourself and your body.

The room was silent.

“I’ll just… go then. I have to be at training in half an hour anyway,” Kyra took a step closer to where Y/n was lying, she dropped a soft kiss on her cheek. “Just don’t—rot in bed the whole day, ok? I’ll buy you some food and send it over at lunchtime so you can eat something other than crisps”.

Y/n felt her skin warm where Kyra had kissed her. She barely had time to process it before Kyra pulled away. “Okay, thank you,” Y/n whispered, she couldn’t help the blush creeping up her neck.

She should say something, she should say how sorry she was and how ungrateful she had been, Kyra didn’t complain about having to put up with her. Often Y/n felt that she didn’t deserve to have Kyra by her side and now was one of those times. She felt embarrassed by the way she just acted.

Y/n wasn’t someone who felt at ease with vulnerability. She didn’t normally let people see her at her lowest, except her closest friend, of course, but even now the thought of seeing them, of going back to Arsenal, even if for a few hours, felt excruciating.

It was as if life was mocking Y/n. Everyone’s life would go on, even if hers was frozen in time. Arsenal still had good and healthy athletes to train.

Kyra still had responsibilities to attend ttoY/n didn’t, not for the months ahead of her.

Eight months the doctor said, eight months until (and if) she could run. Would she be this bitter for that long? Was she going to stay frustrated with everything and everyone forever? Was she going to shut herself off from her teammates—her friends—if she didn’t heal the way she intended?

Change was a slow process, but Y/n decided to start it right now.

“Ky?” Y/n called.

“Yeah?”

“I’m being an idiot,” Y/n admitted.

Kyra smiled. “Yeah, you kind of are.”

“I’m sorry,” Y/n apologized. Small steps.

“It’s fine, you are a lot meaner when you lose at UNO, it didn’t scare me.”

Both girls smiled at each other.

Kyra held no grudges; it was one of the things Y/n admired the most about her.

“But if you really want me to forgive you, you’ll let me do something,” Kyra added, mischievous in her voice.

Y/n narrowed her eyes. “What?’

“You’ll see,” Kyra said before leaving the room. “I’ll be back around 3 pm, see you!”

Y/n heard the front door close, and now she was alone. Y/n thought she enjoyed being alone, but deep down she didn’t. She missed Kyra when she was away. The house no longer felt warm and comforting; instead; it felt cold and isolated.

Y/n thought about Kyra’s words; about her being kind to others and not to herself. When Beth and Viv tore their ACLs, Y/n committed herself to take their dogs on a walk every day, since the couple couldn’t walk.

When Vic got injured Y/n made sure she was left alone during the physio sessions. When Leah also tore her ACL she made sure to call her every day to see how she was doing; Leah, unlike Y/n, answered her calls.

Y/n had so much love and support around her. She needed it to allow herself to receive it.

Y/n looked around her room. It felt strange now. Before her surgery, she had thought the room was rather cosy, with its green walls and light wooden furniture, but now it felt like a prison.

Maybe Kyra would agree to put on a mattress in the living room and make it into a bed. Then both girls could just sleep there, and watch some films. It would probably bring Y/n some comfort.

..

Hours later Kyra came back from training wearing a black kit. Her hair was in a ponytail, with grass and dirt on it. Y/n wasn’t sure if it was because of their fight earlier, but Kyra seemed different somehow . Even though Kyra was all dirty, y/n couldn’t help but notice how pretty she looked. She realised she hadn’t seen Kyra with her hair in a ponytail before, she always wore it in a bun. It was nice, maybe the new hairstyle was the reason why Y/n couldn’t take her eyes off of her.

Cute, Kyra is cute.

She has always been cute, of course, but in the last few days, she looked even prettier. It’s okay to think your friends are cute. It was normal. Y/n thought to herself as Kyra bent down to take out her shoes, the black legging hugging her body. The book Y/n had in hand long forgotten.

Hot. Y/n thought. She was hot.

Maybe it wasn’t okay to think your friends were hot.

“Sorry?” Kyra asked turning to face Y/n.

Y/n widened her eyes. “What? Y/n said, her cheeks flushed. Fuck, had she said that out loud? And why did she sound so defensive? Chill out. “I didn’t say anything., she said, in a calmer tone, closing her book.

“Yes, you did,” Kyra insisted, looking at her with a smile. She let her hair out of the ponytail, letting it fall over her shoulder.

“Nop! You’re going mad, I’m afraid.” Y/n asserted, chin up.

“It must be all the time we spend together, then” Kyra raised a brow.

A lot of time together, indeed.

“Wait, is that a book? I haven’t seen you with a book for a while, I’m proud you still know your letters.” Kyra continued, a smirk on her face

Kyra was right, thought. With football and national camps, she hadn’t had time to read. It had been embarrassing years since she picked up a book. But now she had time, so she just took advantage of it.

“Haha you’re so funny,” Y/n said dryly. “You told me to do something nice for myself, so I decided to read this book I had lying around,” Y/n said, proudly.

Kyra looked dramatically surprised. “Wow, you actually listened to me? Did something happen while I was gone? Did you fall? Oh, you might have brain haemorrhage!”

“The ability you have to turn a normal conversation into a sarcastic one will always blow my mind,” Y/n said, rolling her eyes.

“Good thing I love to blow your mind,” Kyra said before realizing the double meaning of what she just said.

The girls stared at each other.

“Okay that was awkward,” Kyra mumbled, blushing. “I mean it like—”

Y/n laughed, thinking it was cute how embarrassed Kyra looked. Usually, Kyra was the one who put people in awkward situations.

“It’s all right, I got what you meant,” Y/n said, offering a small smile. “So—” She changed the subject, not wanting Kyra to feel uncomfortable. “What was that thing you wanted me to do so you can forgive me?”

Kyra looked at her watch. “You won’t have to do anything. But they will be here soon.”

Y/n frowned slightly. “Did you get that line from some horror film? Who the hell are they?”

Kyra rolled her eyes. “You’re no fun, I’m trying to be mysterious here”.

“You sound suspicious, not mysterious!”

“Oh, shut up, just sit there and look pretty, no more questions, please.”

Y/n welcomed the compliment “Why, because you won’t be able not to tell me?” She challenged.

Kyra was the worst secret keeper she had ever known.

“You know me so well actually!” Kyra said. “Stop asking questions. I’m going to take a shower, but I’ll be right back,” Kyra said before heading upstairs.

Don’t go. Y/n almost said. Almost begged her to keep that kit on so Y/n could just look at her for a few moments.

The thing was: Y/n got used to having Kyra around, not just because she needed Kyra’s help to get things done, but because she just…appreciated her presence.

Y/n was always bored to tears while Kyra was away for training or a match day, so when Kyra came home, Y/n wanted her all to herself. Which was a bit strange.

Kyra Cooney-Cross was making Y/n think of very, very weird things. She wasn’t necessarily upset about it, though.

Minutes later Kyra stepped out of the shower, wearing sweatpants and an Arsenal hoodie. Y/n welcomed the sight more than she’d ever admit. Kyra was pretty, prettier than yesterday and the day before that.

Was Y/n suffering from carbon monoxide poisoning? Could that be the reason she was fancying Kyra? As it genuinely finding her attractive and not a bets mate type of way?

Kyra was attractive, of course. But Y/n hadn’t realised just how much it messed with her mind, and mostly her body. Kyra was her friend. Not as in a friends-with-benefits thing, but oh they could be, Y/n would be happy about that.

Kyra moved in to help me out, that’s all. She doesn’t like me that way, and that’s fine. Totally fine. Y/n bit her nails, trying to convince herself.

Before Y/n could spiral any further, Kyra clapped her hands and told Y/n to get ready, because apparently, the visitors they were having over were about to arrive.

An hour later Alessia and Leah stopped by with a warm lasagna on Leah’s hands.

It turned out that Kyra was only forgiving Y/n if she agreed to meet some of their friends and socialise for a few hours. “It’ll do you good” Kyra had said.d

“Hey, pest,” Leah greeted Kyra at the door. “How’s your pest doing? She hasn’t been answering mine or Lessie’s messages for a while now, is she dead? Did you kill her?”

“Well good evening to you too, Leah,” Kyra said ironically, letting both Leah and Alessia in, after kissing Alessia on the cheek.

“Why can’t you be like Alessia, she is so nice!” Kyra pouted, pointing at the blonde girl, “She doesn’t call me a pest or anything.”

Leah laughed and handed Kyra the lasagna. “Lessie girl is too nice to ever tell you the truth.”

Kyra and Leah continued their bickering while Alessia made herself at home. The girl was very familiar with Y/n’s house, having spent many film night’s here with Y/n and Kyra before Y/n’s injury.

Alessia went into the living room, where she found Y/n sitting on the couch, crutches propped up to the side.

“Less” y/n said cheerfully.

“Hey sweetie, how are you doing?” Alessia sat by Y/n’s side, hugging her. “God, I missed you so much, you have no idea.”

Y/n smiled and leaned further into Alessia’s embrace. “I missed you too, I feel like dying every time Kyra goes to training and I have to stay here by myself., Y/n confessed.

“Oh, so you miss me when I’m away. That is so lovely to hear!” Kyra's mischievous voice filled the living room as the girl elbowed Leah, “See, I told you she wasn’t bored of me yet.”

“Take me with you, Less, please.” Y/n playfully whispered in Alessia’s ear before the girl’s body was replaced by a taller and leaner one.

Leah hugged Y/n and patted her back before lightly smacking the top of her head.

“Ouch! What was that for?” Y/n whined, pouting.

“Me, Beth, Less, Kim—we’ve all been texting you non-stop, and you won’t text us back!” Leah scolded. “We’re not just your teammates, we’re your friends, in case you forgot!”

“Tough love. Told you.” Kyra chimed in from the corner of the room.

“Shut up, Kyra,” Leah and Y/n said in unison.

Y/n kept her eyes down, feeling a little embarrassed. Leah wasn’t wrong, though. Over the past week, she’d only been texting two people: her mom—because otherwise, she’d probably sent the police down; and Kyra—so she could pick up some snacks for Y/n on her way home.

“I know being injured is hard, but you can’t isolate yourself, especially form us!” Leah continued with a gentle reprimand. “You’re only going to feel worse.”

Leah pointed at Alessia, who was now standing next to Kyra. “Lessie told me you didn’t laugh at the memes she sent you! It’s Less, mate—you can’t make Lessie sad.”

If Y/n wasn’t being lectured by her captain, she would’ve laughed at how Leah was using Alessia’s sweetheart personally to make Y/n feel remorse about being a bad friend.

“Also,” Leah continued, now turning to Kyra. “Can you imagine how hard it is to rely on someone like Kyra for updates? Yesterday, she thought it’d be funny to tell Steph one of your bone screws had come loose.”

Y/n snapped her head towards Kyra, who suddenly looked like a kid caught red-handed. “I didn’t even get screws in my surgery! The doctor used locking compression plates instead!” Y/n argued.

“Well, you tell that to Steph,” Leah said dryly. “She cried and said we should call the surgeon responsible for letting you leave the hospital with a loose screw in your leg before Kyra finally told her she was just joking and that you were fine at home.”

“I didn’t think she would actually believe it,” Kyra winced, looking away, a small blush crept onto her cheeks.

“Steph got back at Kyra, don’t worry, Y/n,” Alessia added smiling. “Kyra is now responsible for walking Win every day before training.”

“I hate walking,” Kyra mumbled.

“Should’ve thought of that before messing with Steph,” Leah smirked.

“I was just trying to lighten the mood!” Kyra groaned.

“You don’t always have to fix things with jokes,” Y/n said smiling. “But I appreciate you are—at some point��� giving updates to the girls. Still, leave that to me, I’ll start texting you guys back. I am sorry” Y/n apologized, glancing at Leah and Alessia.

“It’s all right kid, we’ve all been there, injuries bring out the worst in us,” Leah said, patting Y/n’s shoulder. “Now can we please eat the lasagna Lessie has made us? I’m starving!”

“You made your lasagna?” Y/n asked, her mouth-watering.

“Sure did. I know it’s your favourite,” Alessia said with a wink.

“May you be blessed for all eternity, Less,” Y/n said with an utmost stone face. “It’s been days since I’ve had good food.”

Kyra helped Y/n with her crutches before asking, a firm hand on her lower back. “Days? I’ve been making nutritious meals for us since you got back from the hospital!”

“Putting frozen pizza in the oven isn’t ‘making nutritious meals,’” Y/n teased, accepting Alessia’s hand as she sat down on the dining chair.

“I’m trying my best here,” Kyra huffed, crossing her arms.

Y/n leaned in, pressing a kiss to Kyra’s cheek. “Yeah, Yeah, I know. And I appreciate it very much.” She smiled.” Now let’s eat before Leah passes out from hunger.”

..

Read more of my work here -> Masterlist

Tell me if you would like to read any special scene with Kyra and reader!

Please like, share and let me know what you think! Feedback is important and makes me want to write even more. :D

[gojopill]

a/n. i wanna eat gojo’s ass so bad guys

Inside the confines of four bedroom walls, Gojo lets himself feel. He cries. He cowers. He aches. He lets you dismantle him with steady, capable hands, surrendering the weight of power that’s been pressed upon his shoulders since birth. You take care of him, and Gojo thinks he likes it that way. To be soothed instead of soothing—what a rare comfort. A fucking treat.

“You want some tonight?” You ask him. You always ask. 

And he most definitely responds, “yeah.” 

Infinity gets turned off and set aside. Bony knees sink into the memory foam topper, followed by his hands — thin fingers splayed wide and ready to clutch the sheets. Gojo blushes in that boyish way he does when he’s bare like this, on all fours. A touch traces up the back of his thigh, slow and deliberate, smoothing over flesh until it meets the curve of his ass—slap.

Gojo feels. He lurches minutely, ripping a sharp inhale. “Ouch,” he says with a dry chuckle. 

“Too much?” You massage the afflicted area, smacking a peck over his ass cheek. Gojo shudders. 

“No way.”

It took trust and patience to ease the man into such a vulnerable position. Countless post-mission lazing, reminiscing about the good old days of high school. You let him ramble about his woes, never once calling him annoying. No, you just rub his back and offer better wisdom than any quack shrink he’s had the displeasure of seeing. The memories are hazy; Gojo can’t quite pinpoint when this beautiful friendship soured into sex—when hugs turned to humping—but he knows one thing: whatever this is, it cannot end.

“Did you have a difficult day?” you ask softly. He feels about four years old, answering with a quiet, whiny hum. You’re knelt close behind him, coarse pubic hair brushing the sensitive flesh of his rear, fingertips tracing lazy circles along the dips of his tailbone. “Do you want to talk about it?”

A flicker of irritation edges Gojo’s voice. “Right now?” Shimmering, diamond-cut eyes glance back over his shoulder, casting a half-hearted glare through translucent lashes.

“You can if you want. I don’t mind.”

Gojo heaves a dramatic groan, letting his head hang heavy between his shoulders. The jagged ends of his mussed, snow-white hair tickle the bed beneath him. “You got me too worked up to even think about the shit day I’ve had.” Though, now that he’s said it aloud, Gojo thinks that's been your goal all along. His head drops further, voice thick and low, dipping several octaves. “I just wanna cum.”

“After, then?”

“Sure. Sure, fine whatever.”

That seems to satisfy you, so you begin to satisfy him. Two hands pry him wide open before a warm, wet tongue presses into him from behind. This wasn’t the first time you’d done this—eaten him with such ravenous vigor it made his eyelids twitch and his toes curl—but despite that, it always felt so foreign to Gojo. Like this level of intimacy wasn’t meant for hulking, six-foot-three grown men like him. It was the kind of juxtaposition Gojo would mock, he thinks.

“Oh,” he gasps airily. Your mouth has reduced him to a collapsed, weeping thing. By now, Gojo’s chest is pressed into the bed, his flushed cheek squished against his drool-sodden pillow. The soles of his feet have turned white from the pressure, digging deep into the mattress, connected to a trembling pair of legs that work overtime to keep his ass raised for you. His arm, uncomfortably wedged beneath his stomach, bulges with bluish veins that throb from overuse as he desperately tugs himself off, matching the rhythm of your relentless tongue. A bead of sweat rolls down his inner thigh… or maybe it’s your spit. Both, perhaps? All the same, Gojo reaches down to gather the wetness on his fingers, using it as lubricant. “Oh… my God.”

He moans until he can’t anymore. Something in his voice box goes to malfunction, and Gojo is left choking on stuttered pants of pleasure as his hips writhe up and down, up and down— “You’re... g-gonna make me fucking... cum...” he warns, his words breaking between frantic breaths. You hardly falter, sending another sharp spank to the meat of his ass cheek before sinking five fingernails into his skin. Gojo tastes like everything and nothing all at once; like wet skin and comfortable memories. Like masculine musk and spring break. His unintelligent mumbles fuel you—you eat him out until he’s tugging at your hair, tossing your head back and complaining about it being ‘too damn much.’

He lies there on his tummy, breathing heavily into a puddle of his own fluids, offering you a gorgeous view of his toned back. Ripped, heaving, scarred to the nines. Your eyes wander lower, to Gojo’s most private places. Between his legs, glistening, sticky, and damp. Despite his state of disarray, Gojo has never felt so cleansed. You wipe away the remnants of his orgasm, fetch him a glass of water, and help him redress into a pair of sweatpants. He won’t ever give this up. Knowing that every day, week, month, year leads back to your warm embrace, stroking him like he’s just another guy. Like the fate of the world doesn’t rest in his shaky hands. Knowing this, having this, is what gives Gojo strength.

“You still owe me.”

“I know. M’sorry.” He’s curled up like an overgrown kitten, nuzzling his head against your chest. “I’ll get you off in the morning, I promise. Too sleepy right now”

“What? I didn’t mean…” You pause, shrugging as you think. “Well, okay, that sounds nice. But I was talking about your day. You said you’d tell me about it.”

And so he does, albeit with a playful eye roll.

[redheadspark]

hii!! may i request for the feb prompt session? specifically our boy eddie munson with numbers 2 & 5! like eddie pulling reader aside to confide abt their little crush to someone and reader just thinks oh ahah its nothing but as time goes on we can slide in prompt number 5 for ultimate pining from reader 🤓 perhaps even angsty,, mwhehe >:)

A/N - this is great for Eddie! Thanks for the request, I hope you like it!

Be Brave

Summary - Eddie asks you for advice.

Warnings - Fluff with a hint of Angst

“Hey!  I wanna talk about something with you,”

“If it involves Hellfire you’re on your own.  I’m not going to be getting you out of your shit hole situations anymore,” 

“No no!  I mean….that’s nice when you help with that, but no.  It’s something else,”

You poked your head out of your locker, seeing your best friend look at you with an image of nervousness on his face. His wild hair framing his face and his backpack half-hazardly over his shoulder.  You could see the look in his eyes that this was serious, and knowing Eddie Munson, he was rarely serious.

He was serious about a few things: Hellfire Club, his love for metal music, and the need to be his own different.  So what would it be?

“What’s going on, Eddie?” You asked as you grabbed a few books from your locker to put in your backpack.

“You won’t make fun of me?” He questioned, you grinning as you raised a brow at him.

“Since when do I ever, ever make fun of you?” You asked him in a teasing way.  

“I’m not going to answer that,” he replied, “Just…I wanna talk to you because you’re a girl and you probably are better equip at this than me,”

That made you pause again as you finally closed your locker and faced Eddie.  You both were close as friends, ever since you were recruited to join Hellfire club thanks to your older brother who knew Eddie.  They both were in the same grade and your brother knew you liked playing Dungeons and Dragons, he taught you the game. He figured you playing with Eddie would both get you something to do and to get you out of his hair.  Both worked, and you were a decent player at the table.  It made Eddie admire you all the more, not that he didn’t think girls could play Dungeons and Dragons, he just loved how you played.  The same vigor and bite, just like how he played. 

Which in return made him get a small crush on you.  Not that he knew that you were crushing on him back.

“I wanna tell this girl that I like her, but I don’t know how to do it,” he explained, your heart both beating a pinch faster and plummeting at the same time. You were never one to be yearning for drama that others went through, especially girls and their crushes. It seemed too time consuming and petty, which explained by you hardly had any girl friends. Just a few, but you liked it that way.  You had no time for drama and boy trouble, you had too much homework and after school activities to deal with than to figure out who liked who and who was dating

One of your friends was a cheerleader named Danielle, good friends with Christie Cunningham who was pretty much great with everyone at Hawkins High.  You and Danielle study together in the library on Tuesdays during Study Hall because you both were the top students in your science class, in all your classes really, and one afternoon she asked you about Eddie.

“What about him?” You whispered to her since the librarian was notorious for shushing those who were not whispering. Danielle grinned, chewing the back of her pencil as she was tapping her fingers on the top of her opened science book.

“He’s kind of cute, isn’t he?”  She asked you in a shrug.  You kept it cool, something you brother taught you since you were notorious for not having the best poker face. But deep down, it felt like she kicked you straight in the stomach and you were about to vomit all over the desk.  

“He’s alright,” You hummed, Danielle rolling her eyes.

“Oh come on, you don’t think he’s cute? With at will hair and how he loves his music?” She asked, keeping her voice low.  You wanted to roll your eyes, clearly knowing deep down that Danielle had no idea about the music he likes or the kind of hobbies he was into.  Maybe you were protective of Eddie since you two were close and confided in each other from time to time, and to hear that someone else liked him only as a surface crush, it was not sitting well with you.

“He’s my friend,” You could only reply, Danielle shrugging and going back to work on her notebook.  You passed for a few long seconds, thinking of the worst possibility that Danielle and Eddie would be a couple in the future.  It made you mad, sad, confused, and heartbroken at the same time. But you could only bury it down and not mention it.  That was social suicide, not even worth it.  

So it was buried, along with your own feelings for Eddie.

“The best thing to do is to tell her how you feel,” You explained as you and Eddie walked down the hall, side by side while Eddie watched you in earnest to hear your suggestion to him, “Girls like honesty, not flirting around the bush,”

“That sounds…weird,” Eddie explained with a confused look on his face.

“You know what I mean,” You reasoned as you grinned, “Look, Eddie, whoever this girl is, I bet if you tell them and you’re honest about it, it’ll work out.  You’re a great guy,”

“I think you’re forgetting that I have the nickname Eddie “the Freak” Munson around here,” He reminded you as you huffed.

“That stems from the popular kids who don’t know how to wipe their own asses,” You joked, Eddie was chuckling as you made it to your English class.  You turned to face him, seeing him watch you with warmth in his brown eyes and a small smirk on his lips.  Reach over to squeeze his arm gently within your fingers, you tilted your head up at him since he had a few inches on you.

“Be brave, Eddie.  Girls dig it,” You explained, then slipped into your class right when the bell rang. Eddie stood there for a few long seconds, drinking all you said before he jogged down the hall to get to his math class.  He could be brave, it was easier said than done but he could.  You made it sound so easy, like a normal chore to do throughout the day.  But maybe he could do it just to make you smile.

It gave him a pep in his step.

“I rolled a 20!”

“Roll for damage?”

“13?”

“Hell yeah!  How do you wanna do this?”

You leaned over the table, your D20 dice perched in front of your spot along with your papers and notepad etched out in notes as you were describing how you were killing the beast in the middle of combat.  The others around the table were cheering, egging you on as you were drinking in the victory that was in your hands.  

Eddie, in his Dungeon Master chair, was watching in amazement a massive grin on his face as you were using your hands, and your eyes lit up in joy while you were giving every single detail with precision.  He’s seen the others in Hellfire give great details when they would end or an enemy, but you were on a different level.  You loved storytelling, and the way you spoke, and played the game with creativity and enthusiasm. He wished the others would take a page out of your book.

In that moment as the others cheered, Garret clasping you on the shoulder and Dustin and Mike cheering loudly, Eddie watched with a cocked head and love in his eyes.  You were laughing, blush on your cheeks and your light brown hair dancing in the low lighting made his heart flutter.

You didn’t know that Danielle was shot down by Eddie a few days before, Danielle asked him out to study together after school and Eddie politely declined.  He knew Danielle was not the one for him, and she never held a flame for him to be entranced to.  Not like you, Eddie was a moth to your flame and he liked it that way.  He knew what he liked, and he remembered what you told him in that hallway.

You told him to be brave.  And maybe after the game, he would finally ask you on a date.

The End.

[angstywaifu]

Black Dahlia - 36. The Only Mare In His Stable

Summary: With War Games and her first year over, Dahlia finally has the time to seek out Garrick. But maybe he just beats her to it.

Garrick Tavis x OC (Dahlia Aetos)

Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist | Links

Of course Xaden had to pick the one spot to defend that had the longest flight there and back. My body was screaming at me to rest. We’d barely gotten time to sleep and fully rest. But it had been worth it. We’d successfully defended our outpost and taken over others in the area. I swear to gods we better have won this. Otherwise Xaden might need to hide for the next few days.

”It will get easier little flower.” Proth drawls in my head. But I can tell he’s just as exhausted as me through the bond.

”I know. And please don’t call me that anymore.” I tell him, my mind going back to when Garrick had used the name as he’d pulled a the first of many orgasms from me that night.

Proth chuckles in my head. “I have always called you that. The large one can find another name, or you can learn to separate the two.”

I can’t help but laugh at his nickname for Garrick. “You say that like it’s going to happen again.”

”I have spent the last five days listening to you think about him like a lovesick puppy even when you think you aren’t thinking about him.” He snaps at me. “So please do us both a favour and sort out whatever this is when we get back.”

Noted. And I’m sure my friends would be bugging me for updates as soon as I’d had time to shower and get back to normal. Damn Bodhi and his inability to keep his mouth shut. I sag with relief as the flight field comes into sight, only a few squads ahead of us as they make their way down to the Rotunda. I can’t see it from here, but I know it will be filled with the rest of the Quadrant waiting for the last of us to return so they can reveal the winner of War Games.

My feet barely touch the ground before Proth takes off, clearly wanting to rest after the long flight. We all fall into a comfortable silence as we follow Xaden through the field and down the stairs. All of us too exhausted to talk amongst each other. As we walk into the Rotunda I can’t help but scan the squads to find him. And due to his height he’s easy to spy down the back of tail section, his body sagging in relief as he sees me alive. I’d like to say unharmed, but I now sport a new scar on my right jaw that extends onto my neck from a well thrown dagger from second wing. And from what I can see he’s unharmed, just exhausted like the rest of us. His squad had been on the opposite end of our area, meaning we hadn’t crossed paths at all in the five days.

As soon as we take our spot Panchek steps forward. We must have been the last squad back. “Congratulations on surviving War Games. Just a small taste of what you will all do one day when you graduate. Tomorrow once all Squads have been accounted for, we will conduct the death roll and graduation. But for now, we must declare a winner.”

The quadrant buzzes with excitement, everyone mustering whatever energy they can. But as I scan the other squads I note a good number of them clearly showered and rested. Lucky bastards.

Markham walks forward, handing a scroll to Panchek who unrolls it, keeping his face void of any emotion as he reads it. His eyes raise to us, scanning the wings in front of him. Everyone going silent as they anxiously await the results.

”The winner of this years War Games after a very impressive battle this year, is Fourth Wing!” He calls out before the Quadrant is deafened by the cheers of our wing.

I’m immediately pulled into the arms of my Squad, Xaden begrudgingly joining us as Bodhi pulls him in. All of a sudden relaxing and a shower is the last thing on my mind, on any of our minds. We’d fucking won War Games. Guess I wouldn’t need to murder Xaden for picking the outpost that he did. Slowly we break apart, my other squad members moving away to congratulate the rest of our wing.

I can’t help but look over at Dain who looks thoroughly annoyed his wing hadn’t won. I’m sure Panchek had read out the placements of the other Wings, but I’d been too lost in the cheers of my Wing to hear it. Dain furrows his brow at me. No, not me. Something behind me. His eyes looking at something above me. I turn to see Garrick pushing his way over to me. My heart starts beating loudly in my chest as he gets closer.

I open my mouth to say something, but he rushes forward, grasping my face in his hands as he crushes his lips to mine. All I can register is the warmth of his hands, the firm pressure of his lips, and the way my pulse thrums like a drum in my ears. My hands instinctively rise, clutching at his flight jacket, half for balance, half in disbelief.

The cheers of my Wing morph into hoots and hollers, but they feel distant, like they belong to a world I’m no longer part of. When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against mine, and his breath comes in shallow bursts. His eyes, bright and intense, search mine, as though he’s trying to find words but can’t quite manage them. The silence between us feels louder than the noise around us.

“You—” I start, but my voice catches, barely above a whisper. “What was that?”

Garrick smirks down at me. “Making what I want clear. This,” He says as he gestures between us, “Is not just sex. Not anymore. You made it clear what you wanted from me to even consider this being a thing. And I did it.” I swear I note a slight shake in his hand, but it’s hard to tell with how hard we’re both breathing.

”You barely know me.” I say as I look down at where my hands still grip his jacket.

”You know that isn’t true. We might have spent most of the year despising each other, but we both know more about each other than we care to admit.” Garrick puts a finger under my chin, guiding my eyes back to him. “So, what do you say to being the only mare in my stable?”

My heart pounds in my chest, drowning out everyone around us as I look up at Garrick. And after a few seconds where I swear Garrick looks scared, I nod up at him. And for the first time since I was a kid, I beam up at Garrick, unable to hold back the smile at the way he’s asked me. But with the amount of times I’d thrown that analogy at him, it was fitting.

”Imogen! I want my ten gold pieces!” Bodhi yells out, startling us both as he pushes past Austin and Liz, walking towards Imogen who shakes her head and tries to walk away from him.

”Did they-”

”Yeah, they placed a bet on us.” Garrick confirms with a shake of his head.

@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94 @the-fandom-ness @fan-of-many-bands @awkardnerd @heeseungthel0ml @acourtofsmutandstarlight @fairchild06 @freyagallileaevans @pit-and-the-pen @hannraumari @elliot-rain @thestarseternaal @stupid-and-contagious01 @hyperfixation-train-station @lxnvmvrzx @thebreadisthetruevillian @red0202 @fangirling-galore @craftytrashprincess @taliyahvermillion @xadenswhore @fenixyrie @lagrandeourse @hellodarling1357 @iambored24601  @thegiftofacreativemind @fanfictionjunkie1112 @mysticalfuncollectorus

[rose24207]

can I get one with prompts 6,8 and 18 together

Love isn’t always enough

Summary: Your love with Lando falls apart as unresolved pain drives you both away from each other.

Genre: angst, sad

Lando x reader

6. "I begged you to stay... and you still walked away." 8. "You say you love me, but love shouldn't feel like this." 18. "I told you not to touch it, and what did you do? You touched it!"

TW: break up, hurt no comfort

A/N: I’m sorry I was so inactive for a while. Needed to get rid of the author curse for a few days but I’m back!

Masterlist pt.2

The room was silent, save for the muffled sound of Lando’s erratic breathing. He stood by the door, his hand gripping the edge of the frame as if the weight of the moment was too much for him to carry. His chest rose and fell, anger and sadness battling for control over his emotions. You were seated on the edge of the bed, your hands tightly clasped together in your lap, refusing to meet his gaze.

“I begged you to stay,” Lando said, his voice cracking mid-sentence. He took a step forward, and you flinched as if the distance between you didn’t already feel like miles. “I begged you not to leave, and you still walked away.”

Your head shot up at his words, eyes blazing with the same fire that had ignited every fight between you for the past month. “I walked away because I had no choice, Lando!”

His eyebrows furrowed in disbelief. “No choice?” he repeated, his tone sharper than he intended. “You say you love me, but love shouldn’t feel like this.” He gestured vaguely between the two of you, his hand trembling. “It shouldn’t feel like I’m suffocating, like I’m never enough for you!”

“That’s not fair.” Your voice wavered, the fight leaving you as quickly as it had come. “You’re twisting everything. You’re acting like this is all on me, like I’m the villain here, but you—”

“But I what?” he interrupted, his voice rising. “What have I done that’s so terrible? All I’ve ever wanted was for us to work, for us to fix whatever this is.” He gestured wildly again. “But you don’t want that, do you?”

Your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to speak. “I wanted us to work too, Lando. But every time I try, you shut me out. You bury yourself in your career, in your friends, in everything but me. And then you come back, expecting me to pick up the pieces.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. You had hit a nerve, and you both knew it.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you whispered, tears streaming down your face. “I can’t keep holding on when it feels like I’m the only one trying.”

Lando’s jaw clenched, his own eyes glassy. He hated seeing you cry, hated knowing he was the reason for your pain. But his frustration was boiling over, and he couldn’t stop the words that spilled from his lips.

“If you can’t do this anymore, then why are you still here?”

The question hung in the air like a dagger poised to strike. You recoiled as if he had physically hit you.

“Is that what you want?” you asked, your voice trembling. “For me to leave?”

Lando ran a hand through his curls, tugging at the roots in exasperation. “No! Of course not. But what am I supposed to do when you act like this? When you shut me out, when you won’t even try to see my side of things?”

“You don’t get it, Lando,” you said, your voice breaking. “You never have. And I’m starting to think you never will.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Lando stared at you, his expression a mixture of heartbreak and disbelief.

Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “I told you not to touch it, and what did you do? You touched it.”

You frowned, confused by the sudden shift in conversation. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about us,” he said, his tone heavy with despair. “About this relationship. I told you from the beginning that I was scared, that I didn’t know if I could do this—if I could give you everything you deserved. But you... you insisted. You said we could make it work, that I just needed to trust you.”

“And I did trust you,” you said, your voice rising again. “I trusted you with my heart, Lando. But you didn’t trust me with yours.”

His face crumpled, and for the first time, you saw just how broken he was. “I wanted to,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “God, I wanted to. But every time I got close, every time I thought I could let you in, something stopped me. And now... now I’ve ruined everything.”

You stood up, your legs shaking beneath you. “You didn’t ruin everything, Lando. We both did. But I can’t keep doing this—this cycle of fighting and making up and pretending everything’s okay when it’s not.”

“So what?” he asked, desperation creeping into his voice. “You’re just going to leave? Throw everything away like it meant nothing?”

“It did mean something,” you said, tears streaming down your face. “It meant everything. But sometimes, love isn’t enough.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He staggered back, his hands gripping the doorframe for support.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Don’t go.”

You looked at him, your heart shattering into a million pieces. “I’m sorry,” you said, your voice trembling. “But I have to.”

With that, you turned and walked out the door, leaving Lando alone in the silence.

For a moment, he stood frozen, staring at the spot where you had been. Then, as the reality of your departure sank in, he collapsed onto the floor, his sobs echoing through the empty room.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @ipushhimback, @ladyoflynx, @lewishamiltonismybf, @cmleitora, @hmma3 , @same1995, @amatswimming, @llando4norris, @dr3wstarkey, @hurtblossom, @ernegren, @esposamultifandom, @darleneslane

[wovenst4rs]

Diary

Xia Yi Zhou/Caleb × reader

Wordcount: 1k

Caleb had never hidden much from you. Whatever you wanted to know, he would happily share with you, no matter how secretive he was supposed to be about it. All it always took was you looking up at him with that pleading expression that always made his blood rush and the words would come out of his mouth before he even remembered to keep it shut. Most of the time, you didn’t even need to ask; Caleb simply chose to just tell you by himself. Finding that getting to think of his words and calming down his racing heart before telling you on his own terms was easier than making a mess of himself in front of you. 

Which is probably why the first time you walked in his room -well  his new room since you stole his- and noticed him slamming a small notebook in his jacket’s pocket, smiling as he stood up from his chair desk, you couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. It didn’t help that when you asked him what was in that book? He simply shrugged the question off. Opting to cage you next to the door with his arms instead.

-”It’s just some personal project,” Caleb had explained, gently guiding you out of his room with a hand on the small on your back.

You pursed your lips; his answer leaving an uncomfortable taste in your mouth, even as he walked you down to the kitchen. Technically, you had no reason to believe he was lying. After all, he was still your Caleb. He may have changed slightly, but he wouldn’t lie to you. Not your honest Caleb…

It took you less than thirty minutes to decide to sneak into his room that night. You reasoned that if he could fake his death and make you grieve him for a year, then he technically asked for you to snoop into his thing. If he didn’t want you to, then he should’ve locked his door at night like every reasonable person- or not fake his death- but that was just unreasonable thinking it seemed.

So as you pushed the door of his room open, the knob cold against your hand, you left behind any lingering hesitation; the curiosity pulling you closer into the empty room. You let out a shaky breath, thankful that Caleb fell asleep on the couch as soon as the movie you convinced him to watch started. 

Things may have changed, but even after years, you two still couldn’t do movie night without him passing out halfway through the movie. You would often tease him about it as teens. Especially the way he would cling to you in his sleep; his body looking for yours even when unconscious. 

You let out a satisfied hum as you turned on the lights; the jacket he wore earlier sitting on the back of his chair, inviting you in. Taking a few quiet steps, you reached for the pockets of the jacket and bit your cheeks as you felt the leathery outside of the notebook under your fingers. The corners of the pages, yellowed from time, were practically asking you to open them and read through every line tattooed on them by Caleb’s favorite pen.

You leaned back against his bed, the wood cracking softly under your weight as you opened the book. The first page was mostly empty, only a few lines written at the top.

September 3rd 2040

-”Y/N hasn’t stopped coughing since this morning. Am worried about her. Gran keeps repeating that it’s normal and that antibiotics should start helping soon but don’t know what to think anymore. I bought her her favorite snacks and she immediately threw them up. I’ll update later.”

You paused as your eyes lingered on the date, realization flooding in. This was Caleb’s diary. You froze, questioning if you should even be reading this. It was Caleb’s diary, you couldn’t just read his most inner thoughts without him knowing.

But… The temptation to read about the last year was strong. Unbelievably so. To learn about what happened while you were missing from his life. Anything to explain his sudden demeanor change.

So you turned the pages. Skipping a chunk of them until you neared the end. Your stomach deeping as your eyes ran over the words you longed to discover. Page after page, warmth coiled around your spine. Your name appearing once, twice, then thrice, blood rushing down your body. 

That big sentimental idiot hadn’t let a single page remain empty without your name staining the page. It was almost sweet.

Almost,

because the rest of his words were anything but sweet. The thoughts he had always tried to hide about you laid bare on the paper. Each sheet describing a new way he wanted you undone in front of him. How he had fought his feelings for years, fearing you only saw him as a brother figure. How he had tried convincing himself that it was enough. That as long as you were near him and safe, that he could smother the flames spreading through his heart at the thought of you with anyone else.

But he couldn’t. And God knows he tried. But you had never made it easy for him. You always seemed to know which button to push to get his body to overheat. Your smiles made him ache for more. Your tears left his mind blank, except for the thought of kissing them off your cheek. The world forgotten as he swallowed your pain.

He wanted you so much that sometimes he wished he could resent you for it. Resent you for the way his body reacted every time your shirt rid up ever so slightly as you reached for a book in his bookshelf. His body and mind fighting each other at every echo of her voice; wanting nothing more than to hear you cry and choke his name.

Guilt had become an afterthought for him, even as he faked his sleep simply to have an excuse to pull you closer to his body during movie nights; your smell sticking to his clothes in a way that made his head spin. 

Your eyes widened as you read the last page again. If he faked being asleep then-

You gasp as you hear a sound at the door, wiping your head back to see Caleb silently observing you. His eyes bore into yours; the small sigh escaping his lips made you shiver unconsciously.

-”Took you long enough”.

This was supposed to be a drabble but this ended up being longer than expected 🫠

Tbh idk if I should continue this. Writer block has really been hitting hard but Thank God after months I think am finally getting motivation 🙌

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.✦ . ★⋆. ࿐✦. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

*English is not my first language so this work may contain a few mistakes*

[bstorn]

For the Gods and For the Realms (Rhaenyra Targaryen x Aegon Targaryen II)

Letters to Rhaenyra

Her hair was so straight. I mean, not like mine or mothers. Her hair seemed to shine day or night, under sun or moon - and I remember writing that to her when mother said I needed to work on my penmanship.

“Sister,” I wrote, “your hair is similar and different from mine. Mother and the maesters say it is because we are Targaryens. The sun and moon shine on you and your hair is so very beautiful. Would you let me practice my braiding when you come back from your tour?

“Your brother, Aegon.”

She didn’t reply, at least I don’t remember. But, I knew one thing, I prayed with mother that night and hoped Rheanyra would write her reply and ask me to touch her as we’d get ready for our day together.

“Sisters,

The maesters think my penmanship needs work. They suggest I write to you… what’s penmanship, sister?

Aegon”

A young Aegon scrunches his nose as he folds the parchment in on itself and holds it up to the maester who’s teaching him his lessons today. “Ah, yes. Very good, my Prince. No we must seal it and send it off.” Aegon nods and perched on his seat. He’s clumsy with his movements but, he does his best as he maneuvers the hot wax over his letter, drops it and lets it plop onto the paper, and pressing the House Targaryen seal on it.

His maester pats the young prince’s shoulder and scoops the letter up and away to be sent off.

A day later, Aegon receives a reply:

“Aegon,

You’re doing far more to please these old men around you than I ever did at your age. I suppose, congratulations are in order for you.

Penmanship means writing. I don’t know why they insist on making this hard for you and no bothering me to explain it.

They want you to write better. So, you know, write better.

Rhaenyra”

Giddy with excitement at receiving his first letter, all to himself, Aegon runs to his desk and prepares his writing station.

“Sister,

You wrote me back! You wrote me back! Did you know this is the first ever letter I’ve ever received just for me?!

I’m so happy I could squeeze baby Aemond!

When do you come home? Maybe we can squeeze baby Aemond together?

Your brother, Aegon”

Elated, Aegon runs to get his next letter sent.

There is no response to this one. Aegon, in his young boyhood delusion, sends another.

“Sister,

Do you like babies? If not, we can hold one another instead out of excitement and not baby Aemond.

Mother doesn’t really hold me anymore, and father doesn’t either. It’s be nice if we could cuddle hold one another.

Your brother, Aegon”

Aegon smiles at his letter. 3 letters in one week. He is proud of his work. He sends the letter off.

This letter receives a response -

“Aegon,

Ask your mother, if not then your grandfather for affection. They are to be more willing if you ask.

I do not like babes. Let alone Aemond.

Rhaenyra”

Aegon holds his letter to his chest. Happy to receive any word from his sister.

It goes on like this. He sends 3 letters and he receives 1. Throughout the years, as he reaches the age of 10 and 3, this pattern persists.

He becomes more and more aware of how his sister’s tour seems to keep extending. He doesn’t like it. But all he can do is remember bits of their interactions as he grew before she left.

He remembers her scent when she’d used to comfort him. Lemon and something sweet. He remembers her smirk, as if she knew more than she’d let on. He remembers her hair, so long and shiny, and how it’d glow.

“Sister,

We’ve reached the third letter to you and so I’m sure I’d receive one in return. It is our pattern and nature. I,”

Before he could finish, his mother flies into his chambers. “Aegon, have you been writing to Rhaenyra?!” She leans so closely, her eyes accusatory, and her stance desperately though Aegon would yet still learn that this is what his mother looked like when desperate.

“Yes. I have been. For years now? What is the matter, mother?”

Doe eyed and confused, the prince watches his mother as she looks at him in surprise. She straightens and snatches the letter from him. “Mother, wait!” The Queen moves bout the room, moving towards the window for light and for any air that she could catch in her lungs.

Aegon moves towards her, after his letter which would open a new world of attention and affection from his sister.

The Queen scoffs, turns sharply towards her first born, eyes annoyed, “You will stop all correspondence at once! Your sister,” she sneers “cares not for you or I or her obligation to her realm and family. She is selfish and uncaring and you will not become like her!”

Aegon shakes his head and reaches for his letter. “Mother, please. It’s not like that! She’s not like that!”

Alicent grabs Aegon’s arm with a harshness that he's come to learn his mother only expresses onto him, "Enough! She tramps around the realm without a care in the world. She cares not for her responsibilities or those associated with her! She will end you faster than you can pen your name!" Alicent releases a shaken Aegon, and bundles the letter on his desk. Snapping quickly to the situation, Aegon moves from his spot. He marks his mothers movements: collecting his letters, rushing towards the fire, and -

"No! You will not!" Aegon, grabs hold of the letters and snatching them from his mother's hand. He pulls his letters to his chest. "She is not who you say she is. She is Rheanyra!"

"You are a fool!" His mother screams, "You know nothing of her! You know nothing! She burns and with that you will burn too! You know nothing!" Her throat ragged, tight and dry, Alicent grabs her chest and begins to cough to attempt to alleviate her self-inflicted pain.

With a shake of her head, she leaves his chambers and Aegon is left with the thought of how he and Rheanyra are both dragons.

Quickly, he sets his letters down, noting to find a place to hide them letter, as they are few and far between the letters he received from Rheanyra. Aegon starts his letter, licking his lips...

"Rheanyra,

You and I are dragons. Mother says you will burn and you will burn everything and everyone around you. Will you burn me, too?

I hope not. I don't think you will. In fact, I think you'll come home from your tour, and we'll become close and we'll burn together. What do you think?

Yours,

Aegon."

He sends his letter around midday. Having no lessons as it is a day of rest, Aegon moves to explore the Red Keep. The day goes as expected... and by the next morning, he receives a letter.

"Aegon,

I don't think I could burn you... I have thought about it though - and often. You lighting aflame and burning... But, someday, I realized that I think I'd miss your letters.

We're making our way home. How's your dragon?

Yours,

Rheanyra."

Day 4 - Daily Writing Challenge

Write a 10 sentence long short story about the object next to you.

Do it for yourself or put it under this post!

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Take Care of Her

Part 5 of the Uncaged series

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous (x2)

Synopsis: Sam learning to be a big brother—inside and out of the cage

Warnings: torture, mentions of torture, I tried to include some of the actual show plot in here

“You will never be safe.”

Sam pretended he couldn’t hear the voice—it was all he could do to keep it together. He knew Dean needed him, and more than that Dean needed something to go right. If that something needed to be Sam’s mind, then Sam would fake that he was ok and hope that it just happened.

You fell asleep about halfway through the movie, and Sam could feel Dean’s eyes on him after Bobby got up to go read through more lore books. Dean had been eyeing him ever since they tried to bind Death, and Death had revealed that Sam was having hallucinations.

“Hallucinations?” Dean only spoke when he was sure you were asleep. “Really? I gotta find out from Death?”

“I…” Sam sighed. “I didn’t want to put more on your plate. I’ve got a handle on it, really.”

“On what?” Dean snapped, freezing when you stirred.

“I know what’s real and what’s not,” Sam assured him in a softer tone.

“And what about her?” Dean nodded his chin at you. “She getting these visions?”

“I don’t think so.” Sam swallowed. “At least, she hasn’t said anything to me. She’s having nightmares, but I think that’s it. I think that’s part of why I know the hallucinations have to be fake—because if it was real, she would see it too.”

“Ok.” Dean sighed, getting to his feet. “I’m gonna go help Bobby. I need you to tell me if things get worse, ok?”

“I understand.”

Once Dean was gone, Sam watched as your face started to twitch, your body squirming around in a fitful sleep.

“She’s thinking about me.” Lucifer’s voice had Sam flinching, his head whipping around to see Lucifer perched on the edge of the couch. “Thinking about that first day in the cage. Do you still remember that day, Sammy? Remember our first day as roomies?”

Sam closed his eyes tightly, hoping to will away the sight of Lucifer, but instead he got bombarded with the memories of the day his life changed forever.

You were still holding onto Sam when the two of you landed in the cage.

Sam had physically felt his soul split as he fell—an excruciating experience that ended with Lucifer’s soul now separate from Sam’s body by the time they hit the floor. He still wasn’t sure how that worked, but somehow Lucifer’s soul—essence?—showed itself in the way that Sam’s human mind comprehended Lucifer; as Nick. There was no way Nick was in the cage, and Sam knew right away that it was only Lucifer.

He didn’t know why Michael didn’t split from Adam—maybe they were more in sync than Sam was with Lucifer, more in tune to the same purpose—but to Sam, it didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered except you right now. Sam had resigned himself to the fact that he would spend eternity in the cage with Lucifer, and though he hadn’t expected Adam to be forced to join him, that wasn’t nearly as awful as this. His baby sister, latching onto him at the last minute in a desperate attempt to save him, only to end up in damnation with him.

Sam found himself holding onto you tightly while Michael dropped to his knees in utter defeat, and Lucifer shrieked in anger and despair. The human-sounding shriek quickly turned into something unearthly, a high-pitched ringing that got louder and louder. Sam slammed his hands over his ears, watching you do the same. He held his hands tightly over his ears for a long moment, until he noticed that blood was starting to drip down the sides of your face the louder the ringing got.

Sam didn’t hesitate—Dean wasn’t here to look out for you anymore. Despite the pain, Sam moved his hands from his ears to you, grabbing hold of you and tucking you against him, wrapping you into an embrace and using his own hands to cover your ears.

Finally, the ringing stopped, though it was hard for Sam to tell at first since it echoed in his head for several minutes.

Sam made a decision, in those seemingly-endless moments of pure agony as he protected you from the brunt of the pain.

Sam never saw himself as much of a big brother before—sure, he knew he was older than you, but he’d deferred to Dean when it came to taking care of you. Dean had been the one to give you the monster talk, Dean was the one with the mission to protect his little siblings, Dean was the one who took over the father role when Dad died.

But you didn’t have Dean, and you needed someone. So Sam was going to step up.

He’d had moments like this before…

Like when he was 14, and John and Dean had been out on a hunt when someone knocked on the motel door.

Sam, whose instincts had already been carefully honed, snatched up his gun and checked the peephole. Seeing nothing, he eased the door open—but it wouldn’t open more than a foot.

Still wary, Sam’s eyes flickered down and widened when they landed on a basket with a moving bundle in it. His eyes snapped back up, and he glanced furiously around for someone to take the bundle back—because with only a glance, Sam knew exactly what it was.

But no one was there.

When the bundle started to cry, Sam finally made a decision. He eased himself out the door, lifting the basket into his arms and carrying it out of the cold and into the safety of the motel room.

“It’s gonna be ok,” he whispered. He eased the pink bundle out of the basket and started to rock her. “Dad and Dean are gonna be back, and their gonna take care of you. I’m—“ Sam caught sight of a note peaking out of the basket, and he scanned it quickly. “I’m your big brother, I guess. My name’s Sam.”

Or like when he was 18, and you found his stash of college fliers. You were only 4, and Sam probably could’ve gotten away with lying to you…

But he felt like he had to tell someone.

“I’m gonna be going away pretty soon,” he told you in a whisper—Dad and Dean were out on a hunt, but he still couldn’t bring himself to speak louder, just in case.

“You can’t go away,” you argued, tears already forming in your eyes. “Whose gonna play with me when Daddy and Dean go to work?”

“C’mere…” Sam scooped you into his arms, happy when you wrapped your arms around him; that meant you weren’t mad. “I’ll bet Dean will spend some more time with you. Dad too, maybe. They’ll make sure you’re ok, I promise.”

“But I want you!” The tears were flowing now, and your words were interspersed with sobs. “Don’t go away Sammy!”

“I have to,” Sam said. “I’m gonna go to college. It’s like—like school for grown ups. They’re gonna teach me how to be a lawyer.”

“But—“ you sniffled. “But I thought you worked with Daddy and Dean.”

“I do.” Sam swallowed. “But—“ he hadn’t admitted this since he was thirteen, and his teacher asked him. “But I don’t want to do what they do. It doesn’t make me happy.”

“I want you to be happy,” you insisted.

“Thanks, kid.” Sam smiled—just a little. “But…but for me to be happy, I’ve gotta get out of here.” You didn’t say anything, so Sam kept going. “But Dad and Dean can’t know yet, ok? I haven’t told them.”

“Why not?” You rubbed at your eyes, your breaths still shaky.

“They wouldn’t understand. Not like you do. So do you promise not to tell?”

You held out your tiny hand to Sam, pinky extended. “Pinky swear.”

Or like when you didn’t keep your promise.

John was screaming at Sam, waving a fistful of brochures and Sam’s Stanford acceptance letter. Sam wasn’t about to take the fight laying down—he never did. He was toe to toe with his father, screaming right back. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered that Dean was sitting on his bed, looking dazed, and you were nowhere to be found.

When Sam couldn’t take it anymore, he threw his few belongings into a bag—John stormed up to him and tossed the papers into the bag, yelling “Fine, go!”—and headed for the door.

“If you go out that door, don’t you ever come back!” John yelled.

Sam froze in his tracks, his hand halfway extended. He took a single glance back—his eyes met Dean’s, and all Sam saw was his big brother’s pleading expression. He looked away, wanting to say goodbye to you, but you weren’t there. So he grabbed onto the handle, stepping out into the night and slamming the door behind him.

“Sammy!”

Sam was halfway into the cab when you came running out of the motel room—you must’ve been hiding.

“Hey…” Sam pulled you in for a hug. “You gotta go back inside.”

“I’m sorry,” you cried. “I’m sorry I told Dean, I didn’t mean to tell him! I’m so sorry, please don’t go!” It was hard to make out your words between the sobs, but Sam understood enough.

“It’s ok, it’s ok,” he soothed, though he didn’t know if that was true. “That’s not why I’m leaving, but I have to go. Go back inside.”

“I don’t want you to go,” you sobbed.

“I—“ Sam faltered. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“I’m gonna miss you.”

Sam kissed your head. “I’m gonna miss you too. Now go on, go, it’s ok.” Sam waited until you were safely back in the motel room before he climbed into the cab.

He didn’t look back.

He’d had big brother moments…

…but none of those moments had ever had such finality and meaning.

It was a good decision—it kept him grounded for some of his time in hell, and gave him purpose. Even if it caused a lot of pain.

“You do remember that day!” Lucifer’s voice dragged Sam out of his memories. “You remember how you begged me to stop? And I told you all you had to do was step out of the way and watch while I had some fun with your baby sister. But you just wouldn’t do it Sammy.” Lucifer clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “You just had to be so darn protective. Not that it ever did her any good. I got plenty of torture in without your help, isn’t that right little N/N?” Lucifer’s hand ghosted over the side of your face, and Sam flinched.

“Don’t touch her,” he spat through gritted teeth. Your face twisted, as if you could feel the devil’s presence, but your eyes stayed closed. “Stop giving her nightmares.”

“Nightmares?” Lucifer grinned. “Oh, no Sammy, she’s with me. You’re the one in a dream right now—yeah, all this? Your perfect little life?” Lucifer gestured around them. “It’s a dream—it isn’t real. And what you’re seeing now is your baby sister sleeping, but what I’m seeing—“

The room around Sam snapped away for a split second before returning, then disappearing again. In its place, he saw the room of his waking nightmares.

He saw the cage.

And he saw you, in a position that was all-too familiar. Hooks sticking through your arms were holding you to the bars on the walls of the cage. Lucifer was standing near your hanging form, a curved blade in his hand as he cut into you again and again and again and again and—

“No!”

Bobby’s house returned in the blink of an eye, and you sat up with a gasp of terror, awoken by Sam’s outburst.

“I told you.” Lucifer grinned at Sam. “You never got out. Either of you. And you never will.”

…

He was here. You could see him. The dream was over, but Lucifer was still here.

Looking at him—sitting there on Bobby’s couch—was too much. You turned away, seeking solace in Sam’s arms—he’d stayed with you when you fell asleep on the couch.

“Bad dreams?” There was a quaver in Sam’s voice as he asked, and you wondered if he’d fallen asleep and had nightmares too.

“Yeah.” Your voice was muffled against Sam’s shirt, and you hoped he wouldn’t notice the nervous tone in your voice. You had promised never to lie to Sam, but you couldn’t tell him about seeing Lucifer—you just couldn’t. You didn’t want to scare him as much as you were already scared. You didn’t want him to start thinking what you were already afraid of; that you’d really never left the cage.

It wasn’t a lie, anyway—you really did have a nightmare. You were dreaming about that first day in the cage, and watching Sam get tortured for protecting you.

Until Lucifer got bored with that and tortured you anyway, when Sam was too bloodied up and weak to stop it.

“You’re not gonna talk about me?” Lucifer’s voice sent a shiver through you, and you burrowed further against your big brother. “You’re just gonna pretend I’m not here?”

“Sam?” You choked out. “Do…do you ever wonder if we’re still in the cage?” You held your breath, desperate for Sam to take away your fear. You knew you wouldn’t stop being scared no matter what he said, though.

“Ladies and gentlemen, give the girl a prize!” Lucifer taunted. “I think she’s got it! Of course you’re still in the cage!”

“We’re not—“ Sam’s voice caught, and he hesitated. “I…I don’t know. I really don’t.”

“Sometimes I don’t know if I’m dreaming or awake.” You whispered the words, as if afraid to shatter the tense air.

“It’s too good.” Both of you knew Sam was trying to convince himself as much as you. “He would never let us feel this happy. Right?”

“That’s what makes it fun!” Lucifer insisted. You turned your head into Sam’s chest, trying to pretend the devil wasn’t there.

You had no idea that Sam could see him too.

“I got your message.“ Cas’s voice startled you, and you pulled away from Sam to look for the source; he was standing in the doorway, and Lucifer was gone. Cas was covered in sores and blood, and he was staring right at Sam. “I need your help.”

…

It turned out that Sam had prayed to Cas, pleading with him to see reason and get rid of the souls that were consuming him from the inside out. Once Cas started to fall apart, he decided to listen to your brother.

Seeing Sam—not only ok, but solving the world’s problems—made you feel even more crazy, and ashamed that you couldn’t seem to keep it together.

“We’re ready.”

The five of you were back in the warehouse where it all began, waiting for an eclipse to open purgatory.

“We need the blood,” Dean said. “Sam, it’s on a shelf in the back hallway. Take Y/N.”

You trailed behind Sam—you were so happy they didn’t leave you behind, you didn’t care what they gave you to do.

“I think that’s it—“ you we’re just pointing to a long shelf that had a jar of blood sitting on the center of it, when a figure appeared in the hallway.

“Hey Sam.” Lucifer’s voice sent a shiver down your spine, but what surprised you wasn’t his presence; it was who he chose to speak to. Sam didn’t see him…right?

Your gaze switched to your brother, but he wasn’t looking at you. He was looking right at the devil.

“Sam?” You tried to get your brother’s attention, but he wouldn’t look away from Lucifer.

“I thought I told you to shut up.” Lucifer’s eyes were suddenly on you. That caught Sam’s attention, and now he was staring at you.

“You can see him?” Sam’s voice was barely above a whisper, as if he was afraid of his own words.

“I—I’ve—I’m—“ you were still trying to process that it wasn’t just you—that maybe you weren’t crazy. That maybe you were still in the cage after all. “I’ve been seeing him since this morning,” you admitted. “And hearing him longer. I didn’t want you to worry, I—I didn’t want it to be real.”

“Aww,” Lucifer cooed. “Both of you going mad, and neither one telling the other.”

“Shut up!” Sam snapped.

“Except—“ Lucifer continued as if Sam hadn’t spoken “—You’re both just finally realizing the truth. I never would’ve let you go, especially not both of you. You think I woulda lost both my toys like that? I mean, the fact that you believed it this long is just embarrassing.”

“Sam?” You stared up at your big brother, wanting more than anything for him to have the answer to the question you didn’t dare ask. Instead of an answer, you were rewarded with Lucifer’s hand around your neck as he shoved you around the corner of the hallway and up against the wall.

“I don’t like being ignored,” he growled.

“Stop!” Sam rushed at Lucifer, but a backhand from Lucifer’s free hand sent Sam flying back against the shelves.

“Now doesn’t this feel real?” Lucifer’s hand tightened against your throat, and your gasp for air was cut short.

“It’s…it’s not real.” Sam got to unsteady feet. “It’s just—it’s just our memories of hell leaking through. Y/N, it’s not real.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Lucifer scoffed, dropping you and turning to Sam. “But you’re about to see just how real I am.”

…

By the time the devil was done with you, you weren’t sure how much hope was left inside. But when Dean rounded the corner calling your name, you still ran to him. You still wrapped your arms around him. You still clung to him like a lifeline.

Because even if he wasn’t real, hugging him was still the best thing you’d felt for as long as you could remember.

“Hey.” Dean’s voice was gruff and on the edge of panic. “We gotta move, let’s go.”

You didn’t speak as Dean and Bobby led you and Sam outside. You lingered behind Dean, letting Sam catch up to you. As you took hold of his hand, you realized that the bloody marks and bruises Lucifer had left on the two of you were now gone.

You weren’t sure if that helped or not—Lucifer had healed your injuries countless times before, because he always thought it was more fun to give you a moment of pain relief before starting in again on the torture. As soon as your hand was in his, Sam met your eye and squeezed your hand. You squeezed his back twice, and the ghost of a smile lifted his lips.

The two of you had no idea if you were safe in the real world with Dean and Bobby, or if you were locked in eternal torture with the devil and his crazy brother.

But for now, you could hold onto each other, and it was almost enough.

…

“Sam.

“Sam.

“Sam.”

Sam jerked awake with a gasp to find Dean leaning over him. You stirred in the chair next to him, blinking your eyes open slowly—not in a tired way, though; it was more like you didn’t want to know what you would see once your eyes were open.

“Twelve hours, I’m calling that rested,” Dean went on, ignoring the terrified glance Sam shared with you. “Here.” He tossed a water bottle to you, then Sam, then followed it with a granola bar. “Hydrate, and—uh—proteinate.”

Dean then grabbed hold of Sam’s hand and peeled the bandage off—you weren’t sure when Sam’s hand got hurt, or why it was the only injury that he kept when the two of you walked away from Lucifer. But you didn’t question it—you had too many questions already.

“Aww.” You flinched when Lucifer appeared on the couch next to Sam. “He wants to hold your wittle hand.”

You watched as Sam forced his eyes on Dean, ignoring the devil completely.

“You’ll live,” Dean decided, moving aside to let Bobby rebandage Sam’s hand. “Now, I need you two to tell me what happened back there. You disappeared, and you looked pretty freaked when we found you.”

Sam couldn’t meet Dean’s eye as he spoke up for the two of you.

“It’s not just me,” Sam admitted. “She…she sees him too.”

Dean steeled his features quickly and took a deep breath.

“Him?” He asked.

Sam nodded, swallowing hard.

“It’s not just flashbacks anymore,” Sam said. “It’s—I’m having a hard time telling what’s real and what’s not. And I can see…him.”

“And you see him too?” Dean was looking at you. “You can see Lucifer?”

You nodded mutely, keeping your eyes trained on the carpet.

“So…so you guys are seeing the same thing? Every time?” Dean looked from Sam to you.

“I…” Sam tried to look at you, but you didn’t look up. “I think so.”

“Hey, any time you wanna chime in here kid,” Dean snapped.

You flinched, glancing at Dean before your gaze turned to Sam.

“Easy,” Sam told Dean. “She…it’s a lot.” Sam met your gaze head-on, and the two of you shared a near-psychic moment.

Lucifer was watching. Lucifer—whether he was real or not—could make you feel pain. Even if it didn’t leave a mark, you could still feel it.

“It’s not her fault,” Lucifer taunted. “She’s just being a good, silent little toy, just like I taught her. Right kid?”

Your gaze had returned to the floor, and Sam watched as your breathing became faster and you curled in on yourself.

“So he’s telling you that you’re still in the cage? That all this is fake?” Dean asked.

Sam nodded for the both of you.

Dean was quiet for a moment, and Sam knew he was trying to come up with some way to convince you and him that Lucifer was wrong.

“Ok,” Dean said. “Why would he give you this? Why would he make you think you’re happy when he can just kick you two all over the cage?”

“You can’t torture someone who has nothing left for you to take away.” Lucifer piped in, nodding at Sam. Sam swallowed hard, and repeated the words to Dean. “Very good Sam,” Lucifer crowed, and Sam looked away quickly.

“What about each other?” Dean pointed from you to Sam. “I mean, that seems like something he could take away.”

“It felt like we were there for a hundred years, Dean,” Sam admitted. “I…I guess we got pretty used to seeing each other tortured, and Lucifer got bored with it.”

He was right; it had been Lucifer’s favorite game to torture the two of you with each other.

Ever since the beginning, he always knew it was the most effective tactic…

“How about this?” Lucifer was wiping blood off his hands as he spoke. “My arms are starting to get a little tired. So how about—Sam, you torture your little baby sister, huh? Is that a genius idea or what?”

Sam was choking on his own blood, but he still managed a couple of words—

“Screw you.”

“Well that’s not very nice,” Lucifer scoffed. “You haven’t even heard my deal yet—you torture the kid, or I’ll rip her to shreds. Now, obviously, none of us can die down here, but I promise you; my methods of torture will be much worse than anything you could think of in your wildest nightmares.”

Sam turned to look at you—he didn’t want to make this decision.

As soon as you saw Sam looking at you, you shook your head immediately. Sam understood—he wouldn’t want to make you do that, either.

“I see you’re having trouble deciding,” Lucifer cut in. “I’ll let you two have a little chat about it, before the fun starts. But you’d better hurry up before my offer expires, and I tear you both apart piece by piece.”

Sam rushed to you, never one to waste an opportunity to talk to you.

“No, don’t,” you whimpered. “Sam, don’t. I’d rather let him rip my bones out then it be you, please. Please Sam.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Sam insisted.

“It-it’s not just that,” you told him. “I…I don’t want to look at you and think about—“

“Ok…ok.” Sam breathed a sigh of relief—the last thing he wanted to do was torture you, but if it would save you from more pain he would do it, if that was what you wanted. But you didn’t want that; you wanted—needed—Sam to be a safe person in your mind. Sam needed the same.

As long as the two of you could look at each other and see something safe, maybe you would be able to hold on to your sanity.

“But this is way more fun, right little toy?” Lucifer was tugging at your arm, trying to get you to look at him. Your breathing got even more panicked, and Sam couldn’t tear his eyes away from the scene.

“Hey, are you seeing him now?” Dean demanded.

Sam nodded mutely.

“You know he isn’t real, right?” Dean said.

Sam finally turned to look at his brother. “He says the same thing about you,” he said.

Dean’s mouth closed suddenly, and he blinked in surprise. He didn’t have anything to say to that.

“Ok.” Bobby spoke up for the first time. “It’s back to the books.”

Sam watched Bobby and Dean walk out, and when he looked back at you, Lucifer was gone. He didn’t waste the opportunity—Sam rushed to you, pulling you into his arms and holding you until your breathing evened out again.

“We’re gonna be ok,” he whispered.

You looked around, making sure Lucifer wasn’t in the room before choking out a few whispered words.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Me, Sammy?” Your lip was quivering and your eyes were scanning his face, searching for an answer he wasn’t sure he had.

“I wasn’t trying to lie to you,” Sam promised. “I just…I didn’t think it was real. I didn’t want you to think we were back there, because I didn’t want to think we were back there.” Sam brushed your hair behind your ears. “What about you? You kept this from me, too.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you mumbled. “It was only dreams at first. Then I—I couldn’t tell if I was asleep or awake sometimes. Then you seemed to be handling things so well, so I—I just thought it would go away.” You sought out Sam’s hand with your own. “I don’t know how I didn’t see it. I thought we knew each other inside and out by now.”

“I guess we were both going through so much, it was hard to see straight,” Sam said.

“Don’t do that again,” you pleaded. “We should…we should tell each other stuff like this. We went through—“ you swallowed. “Through—through everything together already. We shouldn’t have to hide anything.”

Sam smiled, and instead of responding with words, he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. You smiled back, responding with two squeezes of your own.

“Well I think this is a swell idea!” You and Sam flinched at the same time when Lucifer reappeared. “Now, where were we? Oh yeah—eternal torment.”

Taglist:

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[itsnesss]

Hello how are uuu👾,I heard ur requests were open!💜

May I please request Hwang In-ho x player! fem reader who is really affectionate (not sexually tho) like a fluffy affectionate bunny rabbit,has pigtails and always says I love you a ton!,like we need some fluffy and sweetness for our frontman as we had too much smut already💜👾

𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫 𝟎𝟎𝟏 | hwang in-ho (the frontman) × fem!reader

summary | the request

warnings | emotional distress and vulnerability, violence and intense situations, psychological themes and manipulation

word count | 0.8 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The atmosphere of the game was suffocating, a place where hopelessness and fear weighed in the air like an impossible-to-remove blanket. But you were different. Where others saw the end, you found reasons to smile. Where others felt fear, you radiated a contagious tenderness.

Your two pigtails bounced with every step, and your eyes shone even in the darkest corners of the shared dormitory. No one understood how you could keep that sweet spirit in a place like this, but they didn’t try to stop you either.

" I love you!" you exclaimed enthusiastically, throwing imaginary hearts with your hands. Sometimes you said it to other players, sometimes to the soldiers, and even to the air.

But, above all, you said it to him.

" I love you, player 001!"

The first time you said it, most didn’t even bother to react, accustomed to your constant displays of affection. But you noticed. You saw how he, the older man with the serene smile, slightly raised his gaze toward you. He didn’t say anything, but that small gesture was enough for you to try again the next day.

" I love you, player 001!"

And the next.

" I love you, player 001!"

You didn’t expect him to reply, but every time you said it, there was a slight blink in his eyes, a barely noticeable curve in his lips, almost imperceptible, but present.

The games continued, cruel and relentless. There were days when you felt you couldn’t smile anymore, but then you would see him. Always calm, always watching, as if he knew something that others didn’t.

One night, while everyone slept, you approached him with light steps. He was sitting on his bed, awake, staring at the ceiling.

" Can’t sleep, player 001?" you whispered.

He slowly turned his head, surprised to see you there.

" Not much, little one." His voice was soft, almost fatherly.

Without asking for permission, you sat beside him, hugging your knees.

" When I can’t sleep, I like to count the things I love." You smiled sweetly. " Like... I love you, player 001!"

He let out a soft laugh. It was the first time you heard him laugh.

" Do you always say that?"

" Of course. Everyone needs to hear that they are loved, don’t you think?"

He watched you in silence for a long moment. There was no judgment in his eyes, only curiosity.

" It’s been a long time since I’ve heard something like that."

" Well, you’ll have to get used to it! Because I’ll tell you every day," you said with a mischievous smile.

Over time, you noticed how he began to care for you in small ways. He would offer you his extra portion of food without you asking. He would walk beside you during the games, making sure you were safe. And, though he didn’t say it, his presence became a refuge for you.

In one of the toughest rounds, you almost fell while running, but a firm hand caught you.

" Not so fast, little one," he murmured, helping you stay on your feet.

Your heart beat hard, but not from fear.

" I love you, player 001!" you told him, and he smiled tenderly.

The scariest night was when the lights went out, and everyone started attacking each other. You hid under a bunk, hugging yourself, trying not to cry. But then, footsteps approached.

" Come out." You recognized his voice instantly.

" But... I’m scared..."

" I’m here. No one will hurt you."

Carefully, you came out and hugged him without thinking. His body was stiff at first, but then you felt one of his hands gently stroke your hair.

" You’re shaking," you murmured. " Are you scared?"

" No, I just... don’t want to see you hurt."

Your eyes filled with tears.

" I love you, player 001!"

He sighed, and for the first time, his words surprised you.

" I love you too, little one."

It was a whisper so low that you almost thought it was a dream. But that night, you slept in his arms, feeling safe for the first time since you entered the game.

Over time, everyone started noticing his softness toward you. No one understood how someone so serious, so mysterious, could tolerate the girl with pigtails who never stopped saying "I love you."

But you knew the truth. Beneath all his calm and coldness, there was someone who also needed affection. And every time you looked at him, with your eyes shining and your contagious smile, he felt it.

" Hey..." he said one time while you shared a piece of bread.

" Yes?"

" You didn’t tell me anything today."

" Nothing?" you asked, confused.

" You know... that thing you always say."

You chuckled.

" I love you, player 001!"

And he, with that small smile he reserved only for you, replied softly:

" I love you too, little one."

[kkoga]

Masterlist ! next !

WC — 1.72k

Creds to @cafekitsune for the divider!!

Chapter 4 — Do I wanna know?

After successfully walking around for the past 27 minutes, you knew it was almost time.

''It's almost time.'' Sophia softly said, gently caressing your pinky with hers. You bit your lip.

Saying you wanted this to end was for some reason, a lie. You missed Sophia. Greatly. You had no idea why the two of you had drifted away all of a sudden, and now that you had seemingly filled the gap that separated the both of you, you had no intent to ever let go.

''Yeah, we should head back to the booth now. My friends are probably there.'' Sophia nodded, an unreadable expression on her face.

As the two of you walked back to the booth, a loud sound came from the speakers.

''Okay, okay, mic test mic test!'' Karina, a member of the school's band, was currently in the middle of the stage, along with the rest of her members.

''Alright, so today, we'll be closing the event off with a highly suggested song, Lover is a day by cuco!'' You noticed Sophia's eyes shine.

''Time's changed, we're different, but my mind still says redundant things, Can I not think?'' As Giselle sang into the mic, Sophia now had a somewhat bittersweet smile displayed on her pretty face.

'Will you love this part of me? My lover is, a day I can't forget'' It was weird. The both of you had just stopped. Neither of you moved from your position. The timer for your love lock had ring a long time ago.

''Furthering my distance from you. Realistically I can't leave now, But I'm okay as long as you, keep me from going crazy, keep me from going crazy'' You found Sophia's eyes. You've never really thought about how pretty her hazel brown eyes looked. Or how nice and glossy her lips were. You didn't think about how kissable her nose looked either.

As the lyrics kept going on, eventually, Sophia had faced you. She sent you a somewhat sad smile. Why was she sad? You didn't know. A tear welled up, her eyes now as glossy as her lips. You panicked. Why was she crying?

''Sophia?'' You pulled her in with a side hug, ''Are you okay? What's wrong?''

''No, no it's fine.'' Sophia pulled away, away from your comfort. Your eyes fell.

''I just— I have something to tell you, Y/n.'' Her tone was serious, but her voice cracked.

''Okay… I'm listening, Sophia.''

''You remember when you told me you had started dating Jay?'' You nodded as Sophia broke your eye contact.

''You were so happy. So excited. But you know how I felt?''

''Sophia…'' You thought she liked Jay. Did you unknowingly drive her away because you hadn't know she liked your ex?

''I felt angry. I felt sad, even though I had no right to. I can't control who you can and can't date. But a part of me just always wished it was me.'' Guilt clouded your mind as you clutched onto your shirt.

''You liked Jay? Sophia I'm so—'' She met your eyes once more, a tear falling down her cheek.

''No, Y/n.''

''Then why?''

''I liked you, you dumbass.''

You froze. Did Sophia just confess to you? Sophia let out a small giggle, not out of happiness, but out of sadness.

''I— I'm sorry. I just couldn't hold it in anymore.''

''Since when?''

It had been your idea, as most reckless things usually were.

"Come on, just this once," you had whispered, fingers wrapped around Sophia’s wrist, eyes alight with mischief. The classroom had felt like a cage, the teacher droning on about equations you didn’t care for, and Sophia—well, Sophia had been staring at the clock, her mind somewhere else.

"I don’t know, Y/n…" she had hesitated, chewing on her lip.

You had grinned. "Live a little, Laforteza."

And maybe that was what did it. Maybe that was why, after a long moment, she had let out a sigh, rolled her eyes, and let you pull her out the side door.

At first, it had felt freeing.

Skipping across the empty courtyard, giggling as if you’d just committed the world’s greatest heist, brushing shoulders as you whispered about nothing and everything.

Then, of course, the sky had decided to ruin it all.

Thunder rumbled above, and in the next instant, rain was coming down hard.

Sophia shrieked, instinctively grabbing your arm. "Are you kidding me?"

You, on the other hand, had just thrown your head back and laughed.

"You have the worst luck," she had groaned, trying and failing to shield herself with her hands.

"Our luck," you corrected, shaking your head like a wet dog and making her yelp as droplets flew her way.

Sophia had tried to glare at you, but it was difficult when she was completely drenched. Her white sneakers—once pristine—were now soaked through, darkened by the water.

"My shoes!" she gasped, lifting one foot in horror. "Y/n, my shoes—"

"Oh my God, they’re just shoes, Soph—"

"They were a birthday gift from my mom!" she huffed, stomping her foot—only for water to splash up onto both of you.

You had winced. "Okay, okay, I get it. My bad."

She was still pouting, hugging herself to keep warm, her hair dripping into her eyes. And then—just as a peace offering—you had sighed dramatically.

"Alright," you said, shaking your head with a lopsided grin. "One day, I’ll buy you new ones. Happy?"

Sophia had blinked, surprised by your sudden sincerity. "Promise?"

Without hesitation, you reached out, pinky extended. "Promise."

She had stared at your hand for a second before linking her pinky with yours, locking the deal in place.

And in that moment, something shifted.

The rain blurred everything around you—students peeking from classroom windows, teachers too distracted to notice you two standing in the middle of the storm. It felt like there was no one else, just you and her, drenched and shivering but laughing.

And for the first time, Sophia noticed you.

Not just as the reckless girl who pulled her into trouble. Not just as a friend who made skipping class feel like an adventure.

No—she noticed the way your eyes softened when you looked at her. The way you had made that promise without hesitation. The way your grin—so easy, so effortless—made her stomach flutter in a way that felt dangerous.

It was ridiculous, really. Falling for someone in the rain? That only happened in movies.

But standing there, with your pinkies still hooked and your laughter still ringing in her ears—

Sophia thought maybe, just maybe, she was in trouble.

And then—she smiled.

Not her usual polite, composed smile. Not the amused smirk she sometimes threw your way when you were being ridiculous. No, this was something softer, something quieter. Something that made your chest feel too small for your heart.

It was then that you realized: she looked beautiful in the rain.

And it was also then that you realized—

You could never have her.

Not in the way you wanted. Not in the way you sometimes imagined when your mind wandered a little too far, a little too deep.

Sophia was… well, she was Sophia. Good. Smart. Put-together. The kind of girl people dreamed about.

And you? You were just you.

The thought settled like a weight in your stomach, and as she shivered beside you, laughing through the downpour, you forced yourself to laugh with her— like nothing had changed.

''…really?''

''Really.''

''I'm sorry for confessing so suddenly Y/n but, it's been months since we've genuinely hung out. Months since I've started missing your touch, missing your voice, missing you.'' Sophia held your hands, clutching onto them like there was no tomorrow.

''I don't need an answer now, L/n. But I'll need one eventually.'' Sophia sent you a smile filled with pain, longing, and love.

By now, your school's band, Aespa, had started singing a different song.

''Do I wanna know? If this feelin' flows both ways?

Sad to see you go, Was sorta hopin' that you'd stay

Baby, we both know, That the nights were mainly made

For sayin' things that you can't say tomorrow day'' Karina effortlessly sang, the melody of her voice carried around the campus, thanks to all the speakers scattered about.

You couldn't bring yourself to answer. You desperately wanted to say yes— after all, you had only accepted Jay's confession on a whim, thinking it would maybe, somehow, in some way. help you move on from Sophia.

Sophia took your silence as a need for space. So she turned away, letting go of your hands in the process.

No, you were not about to lose the chance that perfectly presented itself to you— one you've unknowingly been waiting for a long time.

In a split second, you grabbed her hand, and pulled her closer to you.

''Do I wanna know? Too busy bein' yours to fall?'' Ninging clutched onto her mic, pouring her feelings into the song.

You held Sophia's cheek, staring at her with a gentle and hoping smile. As if asking for her permission. She sent you a smile, her way of saying yes.

''Sad to see you go, Ever thought of callin', darlin'?'' Winter sang, as she strung on her guitar cords with great precision.

You pulled Sophia in, with a gentle but needy kiss. Your lips moving against each other, trying to find a rhythm. Screams from your schoolmates could be heard all over, but neither of you noticed. You were in your own little bubble, as if it was only you and her in the world.

''Do I wanna know? Do you want me crawlin' back to you?'' Giselle finished, breathing heavy.

You both pulled away, in need of air. You stared at each other, speechless. You caressed her cheek, and looked at Sophia lovingly. She held your hand, and sent you back a stare as loving— if not more.

''I love you.'' You whispered— loud enough for her to hear, but not enough for others to hear. For they were words you wanted only Sophia to hear.

Tears once again, for the last time today, welled up. The gloss in her eyes enhancing her beauty. It was a sight to see.

''I love you too.'' She whispered back, as she leaned into your chest.

[stuckonmark]

accidents. mark lee

10. where are the drinks bitches!

before coming into college, you never thought you’d have time for parties in general. you thought volleyball would consume your life and it did, but now that you were injured, you had a little more freedom. going to parties was never your type of vibe, but it was fun going every once in awhile. meanwhile, mark and his friends were upstairs playing beer pong and messing around.

“you fucking bitch! i made the shot fair in square!” haechan whined, as he threw his arms in the air. “we’re doing eye to eye first stupid.” jaemin yelled back.

there was a lot of chaos going on upstairs. mark was just drinking his beer and watching his friends goof around. his life finally felt at peace. he had nothing to worry about. basketball was going extremely well, his friends were joyful, and things were good with you so far.

“where the hell did winter go!” you were practically yelling because of how loud it was. music was blaring into your ears, while people were dancing and socializing. “i think she went upstairs!” karina looked like she was trying to have a good time, but bodies were starting to get pressed up on you and her. “let’s get out of this mess, yeah?”

you and karina made your ways upstairs and lo and behold, there was winter with some boy near the beer pong table. you walked up to them and winter immediately embraces y’all. “there you guys are! let me introduce you to my new friend haechan! he’s the best guys.” winter was pretty much slurring on all her words.

“wait aren’t you the guy that keeps replying to my tweets..” the boy just chuckled, but he had no shame. “that’s right! lee donghyuck at your service, but you can call me haechan. i am notably known to be the manager of the basketball team and the ladies love me!” you couldn’t help, but awkwardly laugh at his introduction. you knew he was friend’s with mark, but you didn’t see mark anywhere yet.

“honey, if you’re looking for mark. i’m sure he’s here somewh-” you turn your head and see mark on the couch, talking to mina with his hand on her waist. they looked like they were enjoying each others’ company. the last thing you heard was that they weren’t seeing each other anymore and that was coming from mark. you were confused and kind of hurt that he lied to you. you quickly shook it off, as you were starting to feel uncomfortable. you turned back to your friends and haechan, who were waiting for your reaction.

“let’s get this party started! where are the drinks bitches!”

after a few shots and a couple drinks go by, haechan decides to pull a few people to play seven minutes in heaven. you weren’t really excited to play, but you were too out of it to go do something else. your thoughts got interrupted when the first bottle spin lands on you.

“looks like yn got picked! now, who’s the lucky person gonna be!” haechan spins the bottle again and it felt like all eyes were on you. you could feel everyone’s eyes piercing through your skull. you were watching intently too, hoping not to get some weird g-

“would you look at that! it’s mark lee! okay you two, head into the room and get your freak on for seven minutes!” everyone cheered, while you and mark were basically shoved into some random room. you and mark just awkwardly seated yourselves onto the bed.

“so.. i wasn’t expecting you to come out tonight.” mark softly chuckles, while he scratches the back of his head.

“yeah, me neither.” you dryly reply, as you were looking for some way to escape.

“look we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. i promise i won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with.” “i know mark.” things were getting a little awkward between you two. the silence was so deafening that you could hear the conversations going on outside of the room.

“is everything okay? i swear we were literally good yesterday.” mark was trying to find some sort of way to meet your eyes, but you wouldn’t budge. “i’m fine mark. don’t push it.”

“look, i’m not the guy that everyone makes me out to be. i’m a good guy, yn and i just want us to get along. i know i don’t have the best reputation, but everyone doesn’t know who i really am. i don’t really like the spotlight being on me. i’m just constantly in it.” mark was pleading for any response from you. you hadn’t noticed it, but he had inched closer to you.

you felt for mark. you understood how he felt. no one should have to go through something like that. maybe mark was different. you were just too scared to let him in.

“i promise you, mark. there’s nothing wrong with you. i understand how you feel. i’m just scared. people have done me dirty in the past and i’m scared you will too.” you were looking down at your hands, like you were always doing. fiddling with them always gave you comfort

“just let me in, yn. i’m not going to hurt you.”

“but how do i know that..” you wanted to believe mark, but your past tells you that you shouldn’t trust him.

“i promise, yn. i’m not here to hurt you.” you hadn’t realized it, but mark had cupped your face and lifted your head up to face him. you looked into his eyes, down to his lips, and back up at his eyes, while mark’s eyes were following yours. you did not know what you were feeling, but your body was definitely not listening because you were leaning into mark.

“OKAY 7 MINUTES IS UP! COME ON OUT!”

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notes. happy valentine’s day everyone! for the special day, y’all get an update haha 🤍

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