#anyway I'm here to deliver on angst!

[fannbeau]

"it should've just been me instead..."

[nachosncheezies]

In defense of late-canon x files (including the revivals)

I was thinking about this poll after I commented on it, and I kinda want to be brave and say more.

Short answer to the poll's question before I go any further: If you're a new fan and a sensitive sort who thinks you'll struggle with your blorbos Really Going Through It and you really need a happy ending, I suggest you stop at the end of season 8. Do not pass go, do not look at spoilers. Disregard this post entirely, close the internet, and go look at something that makes you happy. (Also fuck every part of society that characterizes sensitivity as inherently weak and bad and some kind of personal failing, you are valid.)

That said, "quality" as a concept is entirely subjective, and the question of whether or not there's a decline in quality for any story is wholly subjective, too. In the case of x files? I'm not convinced there is a decline. I am going to be upfront that I haven't yet watched past season 8, though I am almost completely spoiled on events after that - and the reason I haven't watched yet is not because of how I know events are going to unfold, but simply because I don't want it to end!!! Ohh, the tension between "I CAN'T WAIT!!!" and "Nooo don't be over D:"

When I first came to txf fandom on tumblr and gradually became spoiled about what happens in late canon though, I was often left uncomfortable and tbh kinda queasy about it. As I said in my comment on the poll, the hate for especially the revival and IWTB, or to a lesser extent even seasons 8 & 9, is very well documented. But! There are other takes to be found here on tumblr if you figure out where to look, and my feelings have changed!

The thing is, I have yet to find myself in any fandom where there isn't a vocal subset of fans who dislike the story after a certain point. I am not joking when I say that no one hates the things they love as passionately as sci-fi and fantasy fans. In my experience, it often hinges on the extent to which a viewer has strong notions on where they would like the characters to end up. In particular with series where shipping is a dominant component for the bulk of a fandom, I have almost universally found that there comes some turning point in the story where "let them be happy you cowards" is the dominant view, and things that compromise the attainment of a degree of romantic stability and/or domesticity are, to many fans, annoying at best and despicable at worst. But! As one tagset on the linked poll said:

and I think for any fandom, that last tag especially is so so so important. (I think that's harder for people watching a weekly series live, bc you have so much time to analyze and speculate and dream before the next breadcrumb drops, but I digress.)

So why am I saying this and how do I apply it to x files? Well, I eventually found that there are also a subset of fans who find redeeming things right up to the very end and actually quite like the whole thing! The things that I had seen people rage and ventpost so much about honestly never quite sounded to me as "out of character" or "untrue to the story" etc as those same ventposts made them sound. And I've discovered I'm not the only one who felt that way. Do I love that the spooky squad had to go through all of those things? No, those poor guys D: Life is hard and they have been through so much trauma. But do those events and their choices make sense to me in light of everything that came before? Yes! And I honestly can't wait to see them fight to overcome those things, breaking, healing, always learning, always growing, always getting better.

So if you're wondering "where does it go wrong"... well, I'm a completionist, as many people who've answered that post are, but also my personal opinion is that I don't think it does go wrong. If you're new and interested in exploring why I've gone from "vaguely queasy" to "excited" about the whole thing, or want to maybe balance out the impressions you're getting about the later seasons before deciding whether or not you want to see the whole thing, I'll put a few blog names in the comments.

Final admission: even once I started feeling a little more confident in the possibility that "actually ok maybe I'm not crazy, maybe this all kind of is in character and does make sense", there was one big plot point that I was NOT looking forward to and I thought I would never be comfortable about. In hindsight, I think my discomfort came from the negative responses being SO seemingly universal that I hadn't stopped to let myself truly consider other possible interpretations on that point. (I mean my initial instinct when I first read about it was, why are we mad about this?? CSM is literally the most unreliable narrator in history???? it's obviously fake news?????? this must be either a fever dream someone's having or it's a misdirection ploy against whatever shadowy forces might still be lurking?????????????? but for whatever reason I guess I had halfway written that off.) Happily, just last month there's a new post-s11 novel out, and although reviews for the book as a whole are mixed, it seems to have laid the groundwork for resolving that plot issue in a way I think most fans would be broadly happy with. If you're interested in being spoiled about that and seeing how, I recommend searching #perihelion on @agent-troi who liveblogged reading it with receipts, scroll back chronological-style to the first post on the subject and see how it unfolded. (And never forget that Dana Katherine Scully is the queen of denial as a coping mechanism lol)

Everyone's mileage will vary. Each person can feel however they want! But for anyone new, I wanted you to know that the very many ventposts you might be seeing are not all there is to this show or its fandom. Some of us love it despite - or even because of - all the things that went "wrong". I think we just don't talk about it as much.

[luvvixu]

mind over matter pt. 4

synopsis: witness how your marriage was bound to fall apart with you on the front seat and your husband gojo had missed the show—now, he gotta figure out the story on his own.

content: arrange marriage au, angst, husband!gojo, mean!gojo, mention of blood, strong languages, some unsettling scenarios, emotional trauma, read at your own risk

a/n: ok, im such a bad author now huhu, i always broke my promises about updating the new chapter :((( should've just wrote in advance but i'm afraid i don't have that enough free time oqsjjanswjaj anyways, here's the anticipated chapter!! THANK YOU FOR Y'ALL PATIENCE <3 MWUHEHEHHEEHHE

previous / masterlist / next

the next day comes and you've got yourself some visitors. megumi, yuuji, nobara, maki, and inumaki was in your room and they were all seated around you as you talk.

panda and your two third years were not around at the moment because this is a non-sorcerer hospital and people would freak out to see a big ‘talking’ panda. during your two third years, they were out of town and were on a mission but they still text you to get well and even send you some fresh flowers.

“wait, i still can't believe that he's your husband.” nobara couldn't explain his shock at the revelation. out of all, she didn't think that her goofy teacher was someone's husband.

you chuckled at her reactions as you turned your gaze on megumi, who's still his mouth hanging. “megumi, i thought you're getting a hint?” you tease the boy. although it was true, you actually thought he already had an idea because you've known him for almost his entire life and even once lived with you as a kid.

“no…” was only his answer.

“so, gojo-sensei was the one you're talking about when you said that he was a busy man. most of his job requires being out of town. but he never fails to shower you with love and he is making sure that you two would still communicate despite his busy schedule?” your eyes widened when yuuji literally just said what you had said from before, word-by-word!

“i—i supposed he is.” everyone in the room sweat dropped at your answer.

what do you mean you supposed?!

“y/n-sensei, is it okay if we ask your baby?” maki chooses the gentlest approach because she heard that post-pregnancy can make the mother quite crikey, sensitive, and is prone to depression. but to her relief, you respond to her warmly.

“oh, the baby is being treated since they're premature. i really can't wait to meet them once i get better. but right now, shoko was the only one who had seen my baby.” you smiled softly at the thought of your baby.

“gojo-sensei still hadn't seen the baby?” maki’s eyes went wide.

you nodded. “yeah, he said we should go together so i must heal quickly for that to happen.”

the door suddenly opened and it revealed your husband with food in his hand. you smiled at the packages not because you're hungry, but because you had finally persuaded satoru to go out and leave you even for just a few minutes.

how did you do it? well, you just give him an earful after what he did yesterday night and he's like;

“i don't know how you did it but you should've just gone to the convenience store or the hospital canteen just for an oatmeal and eggs. and look, i'm not upset over the fact that you just had the ‘very easy to get’ food delivered on this doorstep. what concerns me is you seem not to trust me very well to handle myself— well in fact i've been doing it since i was a kid and blah, blah, blah, blah…” it was your turn to yap but a little longer than he did. you even probably bought up some of his minor mistakes like not taking out the trash on random sunday night.

and he was like, “i'm sorry. i won’t do it again ( •̯́ ^ •̯̀)”

“y'all done backstabbing me?” satoru teasingly smiled at you all.

“oh, we're just getting started. so why don't you take a seat and hear us out?” you patted the empty space of your bed beside you.

satoru playfully huffed and gave the foods to his students and let them distribute it themselves. sitting beside you, he gave you the separate plastic with food and helped you feed yourself. the two of you had your moment with you telling satoru to just let you be and stop feeding you like a kid, but satoru was like nuh uh—and it goes on and on.

meanwhile, the students watch you two with surprise in their eyes. they still couldn't digest the fact that you two had managed to hide your marriage for like five years or so. and out of all spouses out there, they couldn't believe their eyes that you married a guy that is a total opposite of you.

“i still cannot really believe that you're married and have a baddie wife.” nobara almost never tears her gaze towards you two.

“yeah, much more is that they look so in love!” yuuji agrees to what nobara said as his words made you two stop bickering instantly.

like a cold water being poured, you two were suddenly experiencing a reality check that this so-called in love was very far from the two of you actually is. coughing slightly to hide his awkwardness and nervousness, he just let himself chuckle. while you? you're an expert at this, you maintain a smiley expression and wordlessly (and also forcefully) agrees to what the boy said.

“oh my, do we?” putting a hand on your cheek, you smiled with your eyes closed. your act looks so legit but satoru has seen this multiple side—he knew this facade was all fake.

maki suddenly puts herself into attention by calling your name. “anyway y/n-sensei, i've noticed you two don't have a ring—” before she could even finish her sentence, you already beat her to it.

“that's because the two of us, mostly him, are constantly fighting curses and both involve using our hands when we use our techniques. it would be risky to wear it and we're scared that we might get it lost or damaged.” you explain meticulously.

you watch the students agree to your explanation, while satoru is looking at you with meaning. you stared back at him too, hoping that he would get your telepathic message.

“alright guys, your y/n-sensei needs to rest now. we'll just see you guys soon or you can all just drop by tomorrow after your training.” satoru called everyone's attention by clapping his hands then started to playfully shoo the students.

you watch them pack their things and wave you a happy goodbye, in which you return their enthusiasm as well. when they all left, you let out a sigh and started to gently lie your body on the bed. satoru, who was done cleaning just now, sit at the end of your bed and carefully massage your legs.

“did you have fun with them?” you just lazily hum at his question and proceed to rest your eyes.

“i…i'm surprised you managed to convince them about our marriage.” satoru continued quietly.

opening one of your eyes and looking at him, you said, “of course, i've been doing it to a lot of people for the past five years.”

that alone made him shut up.

satoru looked down to his hands, which were still busy massaging your legs. you've noticed that his eyes were casted down and his behavior was somewhat familiar to you, he's feeling something that is related to guilt and regret.

clicking your tongue, you're in no mood to deal with his behavior today. so to find a solution to this problem, you just put yourself to sleep and let all of this just go on without a single care.

it has been two days and you're getting better day by day. today was probably the bestest day so far because you're about to finally see your own baby!

“calm down, mama. do you want your stitches to open again?” shoko holds your knees to stop it from shaking anxiously as you were currently sitting just right outside the neonatal intensive care unit (nicu) where your baby was.

you understand that the doctors need to prepare the room first before you all come in, but you wished that they speed it up.

“but sho, i'm finally seeing my baby!” you squeal at your friend who just ruffles your hair and tells you to be patient—in which you definitely can't.

meanwhile, satoru, who was standing beside you while you and shoko were sitting together, has been eyeing you since this whole waiting. he understands that you're excited about seeing the baby because he is too, he is excited. but he couldn't help but to feel a sensation that you would rather share your excitement with others than him.

he knows that he sounds ridiculous and undeserving to say that in the first place after what he did to put you through, but he still couldn't help it and he wouldn't even dare to say it to you.

the door of the nicu just opened and it revealed the doctor who was wearing protective gear to keep bacterias and viruses from entering the room and harm the baby. before he lets you all in, he first instructs you all to change the same gear as him and then proceeds to give you all some explanation in which you actively listen and take notes.

and after that, he finally lets you go inside.

the moment your eyes traveled on a crib, you saw your child laying down there with some breathing apparatus that is connected to their little body. you could feel your eyes swell with hot tears as you inch yourself towards the bundle of joy who's their crib was also protected with glass and only small holes on both sides were there.

satoru and shoko watched you with pure warmth at your sight—it was a nice scene of mother's love. finally, a tear escapes your eyes the moment you get a whole view of your child.

“isn't he pretty?” shoko said beside you, someone who you didn't notice had come near you.

you gasp, “he? m-my baby is a boy?” your cries go even harder, but it was just pure happiness. you couldn't bring yourself to tear your gaze away from your child even though he looks fragile for being premature but you love him dearly.

“can i touch him?” you look at the doctor who assisted you earlier without caring that you might look like a crying mess. you're far more thrilled to be with your child than to be pretty at this moment.

the doctor smiled at you and he agreed. he pointed out the small hole on the side, telling you to stick your hands out to feel your baby. you do what he said with your shaky hands, and when your fingertips touch his warm skin—you feel like you could die from the burst of euphoria.

“my b-baby, my baby is n-now here!” you really can't hold your emotions back as you keep on passing your fingers through your baby's arm until it reaches his closed hands where you slightly and gently open it for him to grab index finger. and when he does, your smile becomes even wider.

“hi baby~ this is me, your mommy. it's so nice to finally see you.” you whispered softly, hoping that despite the glass, he could hear your words.

this is the bestest day of your life. your baby was here and that's all you need.

the scene continues to unfold with you still getting emotional and shoko was just watching you with a smile on her face. while satoru, the father of the child, the husband of the mother, was a little distant but he could still see the baby. he was all quiet and couldn't bring himself to utter a word but he's not speechless.

his eyes behind those glasses were trailed on the child, but most of his gazes were on you. satoru watches you become all smiley—this is probably the happiest smile he had seen on your lips for the past years of your marriage.

and he would absolutely never forgive himself if he breaks it—but he already did.

shoko notices his odd behavior and promptly leaves your side for a while (but you're busy having a baby talk with your baby to notice her leaving) to go talk to him.

“what? you're just gonna stand there and watch y/n?” yup. still the same as before, hostile towards the man. satoru let out a sigh and didn't give her attention. instead, he walked towards y/n and just focused on his family.

“you’re so tiny!” you continue to cooed at your son who keeps on moving slightly which is a good sign that your son is responsive and fighting. you also noticed that satoru was now right beside you and is looking at your son too with adoration tinted in his eyes.

“i don't think i could let myself be away from him anymore.” you said. your cheeks were now hurting from constant smiling but you don't mind.

satoru only looks at you briefly because his attention was now on his son, fully. “hello, it was nice finally meeting you.” his eyes trailed on his own flesh and blood with the most care of all.

on the other hand, you're not dumb to not notice that satoru was acting hesitant towards this scene and you knew what his reason was. you think that satoru thinks that he was undeserving to be here, and you're correct about his assumption.

but as a woman who grew up with an experience of being inside a shattered family, you absolutely would not want that to happen to your own child. and as much as you would also like to satoru be away at least for now because you're still that sensitive about what he had said during those conversations in the clinic and hallway, you respect his role as a father.

you'd give him a chance to prove his worth as a father to your child, but he's far worse to have a chance to prove his worth as a husband to you. if he messes this up real bad and without any proper explanation, this will be all over—satoru would no longer have you and your child as his own family.

“stick your hand on his hole, that way you could feel him.” you guided his hand towards the hole that you had said before and watched his hands turn shakey as he reached for the baby.

once satoru had finally experienced a skin-to-skin touch with his baby, he wanted to cry so badly but he didn't allow himself to, at least not yet. he felt like this was one of the best moments in his existence.

satoru would like to punch himself for questioning the baby for his plans as he seemingly thinks it would affect him. but just when he look and touch his baby, all of his recollection about the mixed emotions he felt when the baby is on the board has suddenly vanished and it was replaced with gratefulness and adoration for both of you.

it was like a full 360 degrees turn was done after the early birth of his first born. plus, he had seen you be ever so happy that you are with him. and deep inside him, satoru deniably hopes that this kid, this child, can at least help him save this marriage that was destined to fail and doomed.

because he now finally realizes that you're slowly wrapping him around your tiny fingers.

your tears had made him be a better person, your recent experience had made him behave. it almost cost you and your baby's wife just for him to realize the importance of your five years of marriage, and he's planning to tell you that soon.

“have you finally decided what name we should give him?” shoko asked you and she didn't fail to see your eyes sparkle at the mention of name.

ah yes, baby names.

that was something that a mother and father should decide together because it comes very crucial because the name that your baby will get is a symbol of you two's relationship. but the thing is, you and your husband hadn't talked about a single thing or just anything related to this matter.

that's probably why you're still embarrassed whenever you think about nanami accidentally seeing you open a website into one of the school's computers about unique baby names with its meaning.

you're four months pregnant at that time and you're spending your free time in a teacher's lounge. you're very invested in your mini research to the point that you didn't notice an old friend peeking at your screen. you actually only notice his presence when you're about to stretch but accidentally bump his torso, and to your surprise, he was there.

and then the rest becomes a story and history. nanami helped you pick baby names for both genders or even unisex until you came out with…

“kazuki. let's name him that.” a soft smile was decorated on your lips as you watched satoru, who's looking at you, plays with the hands of your son.

“kazuki…that's a nice name, y/n.” satoru said happily. however, you can see his disappointment behind those words and you know why. you didn't even invite him to search for your baby's name because why would you?

“does it have any special meaning?” shoko asked you.

you nodded and said, “of course, kazuki means hope of peace—and i really need that.”

taglists: @mistymuii @kalopsia-flaneur @sherryuki-callmeyuki @aish777 @tttttttf @slyhersophia @rirk-ke @labelt-san @shinruo @testrella @sad-darksoul @kurookinnie @mountvesuvu @chwesuh-imnida @cole-silas @elernity @maddie-jayne @yozora7154 @kawaiivillainess98 @forourpoets @aishies-stuff @numblytemporary @souyasplushie @catarinemirandax @aerithsthingss @h1gh4ru @ssetsuka @jskodn @khoiyyu @the2ndl @vebbiewuzhere @kouyoumarryme @dreamyescapesfromreality @local-mr-frog @haesify @blkmystery @bleppt @leavem3al0n3 @arminloverlol @megumisthirdog @shirabane @sheismaryy @tragicgirl444 @vampsins @miizuzu @kurobo @anxious-chick @p1nkliquor @mshitachin @chxrv @lolsasuke @username23345 @netyxms @lvstru @roscpctals99 @buttermilktea11 @berenevenstarzetaestelar @jiupark @hotsauce247 @veryverysadauthor @skepticalleo @opentheyoor01 @slowlyshycomputer @babybarbs12 @thickemadame @yaninnaacu @foggypostshark

[part 5 will be just there right around the corner — ©luvvixu2024]

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

[wip!] the art & science of parenting || jay park

a/n: hellaur everyoneeee here's a lil summary & drabble into another wip i'm working on rn,,,i had this idea in the back of my head for SO incredibly long (im talking since 2021 pls) and decided to finally go for it :') so here's a lil peek for the time being to prove i'm still alive heh. i hope you guys like this concept,,,idk why but i really envisioned jay in this trope maybe because i plan on making it very fun & lighthearted but mixed in with some serious & angsty tones...we shall seeeee....you know i love my college!aus and e2l!aus heheh anyways saur sorry im yapping now! lmk what you think & if you want to be tagged !!

genre: jay x female!reader, fluff, comedy, college!au, enemies to lovers!au, parenting!au (parenting a robot baby LMAO), sum angst maybe, both reader & jay are smartasses who don't know how to communicate and confront their feelings , also a bit of photographer!jay :')

summary: The Art & Science of Parenting 101 (PSY1009) – In this interactive course, students will explore the psychological, social, and biological foundations of parenthood. Through a mix of theory and hands-on practice, you'll master the art of raising a simulated baby—aka the 'robot child.' Late-night feedings, tantrum taming, and crisis control are all part of the deal. What you didn’t expect to be part of the deal? Getting paired with Jay Park—the last person you’d trust to raise, well, anything. You’re pretty sure he couldn’t even take care of a pet rock. Now, you’re stuck co-parenting this robot baby together for 40% of your final grade.  Warning: Sleep deprivation is guaranteed. And maybe, just maybe, some unexpected feelings for your disaster of a partner. Good luck!

longer drabble under cut! <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

"Y/N and Jay."  

Wait. What?  

Your head snaps up so fast it's a miracle it didn't pop off your neck and roll away.  

You blink. You must have misheard.  

"Y/N and Jay," Professor Kim repeats as if she could read your confused expression, voice too nonchalant for the life-wrecking news she's about to deliver: "You two are partners."  

The words hit you like a bus. No, not even. The words hit you like a bus driven by a T-Rex that flips over, crashes into a building, and explodes into a million ashy pieces. And there you are—standing right in the middle of the wreckage, somehow still alive to suffer through every second of it—while Jay, smug as ever, whips around in his seat to face you.  

And of course, there it is: that look of his that screams 'This is going to be so much fun for me, and so much pain for you.' 

"Guess we're parents now, Y/N!" Jay chimes, his voice dripping with so much sarcastic enthusiasm you swear he just got handed an Oscar for Most Annoying Human. If that tone were a substance, you'd bottle it up and use it as insect repellent. On him. Repeatedly.  

You blink at him, you're sure—you're praying—this has to be some elaborate prank. Maybe Jay bribed Professor Kim with his rare attempt at turning in an assignment on time just to mess with you. Or maybe the universe just hates you and this is your karma for stealing your roommate's last ramen packet that one time a year ago.  

But no, Professor Kim keeps rattling off other pairs like it's business as usual, as if your entire academic career and sanity isn't currently being flushed down a metaphorical toilet, while you sit there, paralyzed, your brain rapidly melting into a useless puddle from the sheer thought of being paired with him.  

"What's wrong, Y/N?" Jay teases as he leans over the back of his chair towards you. "You don't want to play house with me?"  

You narrow your eyes at him, mentally wielding your imaginary bug spray like it's a holy weapon. "I don’t," you reply flatly. "In fact, I’d rather perform open-heart surgery on myself with a plastic spoon than co-parent with you." 

Jay’s eyes light up as his hand goes to his heart. "Aw, you really know how to make a guy feel special. This is why I like our little relationship, you know?" 

"Relationship?" You scoff loud enough to make the people sitting three rows behind you to glance in your direction. "The only thing we have in common is a shared oxygen supply." 

"See, that’s the spirit," he says, turning back to face the front like he didn't just ruin your life. And somehow, that pisses you off even more. Is it his voice? His stupidly perfect hair? The fact that he breathes in your general direction? At this point, he could literally sneeze, and it would still feel like a personal attack.

Is it too late to switch majors? Or schools? Maybe even countries? Surely, restarting your entire college career as a super senior would be better than spending the next six weeks parenting with Jay. Jay Park, who has probably never held anything more fragile than a Red Solo Cup.  

Jay Park, who is just sitting there, all calm and collected, clearly loving every second of your misery.  

While you're frozen in pure, unadulterated horror.  

Your grade? Plummeting as we speak.  Your robot baby? Probably going to need therapy by day two.  And you?  

You're screwed. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

decided to go for a longer sneak peek than usual bc im very excited about this one heh :) i also changed up my title image formatting..trying out smth new !!!

lmk if you want to be tagged!

<3, addie

[khuzena]

Fable

Pairing: Sunday x gn!reader

cw: themes of religion, emotional turmoil, mental health struggles, sin and redemption.

Synopsis: In a world engulfed with sin, Sunday feels as if there's no difference between him and the lowly sinners he preaches to. A stark irony in his thoughts and the cross that lay heavy on his chest, a preacher of Aeon Xipe, yet a damned fool that longs for a sinner. He offers redemption as if it's cheap since it only asks faith as its payment. However, the sinner he longs for has no ounce of faith in their soul. In the end, he could only sing praises— if only attaining salvation was so easy.

A/N: GUESS WHO'S BACK (no one remembers me) but I'm here to deliver angst anyways bc fuck this shit. My writing is shitty so bear with me. :(((

“Repent, sinner.” Sunday whispered as he held your hand, “Repent.”

"Sunday— let go” you drawled, voice dripping with shame. You leaned against the wall, the smoke from your cigarette curling lazily through the dim air, mingling with the stale scent of cheap perfume and old upholstery. The brothel was alive with murmured laughter and low music, the worn-out couches and faded curtains casting long shadows in the flickering amber light. Your skin was drenched in sweat, your head riddled in shame as your clothes lay bare on the floor. You've just finished servicing a client yet Sunday's invaded unknown territory; to save you, maybe.

The priest’s eyes swept the room, narrowing as if each detail confirmed his worst suspicions. His mouth twisted in a thin line of disgust as he clutched his Bible close to his chest, as if bracing himself against the "unclean" aura around him. The expression in his eyes was soft, painful—a thousand sermons held back by a single withering look.

“Please,” he said, voice clipped. “You know this isn't the answer— it's never too late.”

“Just go,” you replied, frowning without your usual certain devil-may-care charm. You let sin consume you, as it's all you've ever known. “But you’re right, Father. It's never too late for others but I'm a lost cause.”

You trail off, the musky aroma of carnal desire in the room intoxicating his ‘pure’ soul, “You're gonna save me? With what, exactly? A sermon? A confession?”

“Redemption.” He said the word as if it could wash the room clean. “Even someone like you—someone who parades their sin as if it’s a crown—you could still be saved. Even now.”

You laughed, the sound echoing off the peeling walls, more haunting than humorous. “Saved? By what, exactly? A few Hail Marys and a scolding?” You looked him up and down, that faint amusement never leaving your eyes. “Maybe I’m not the one who needs saving. Ever thought of that?”

Sunday's face darkened, his fingers tracing the edge of his Bible like it was a weapon rather than a shield. “You speak of kindness, yet you live without a shred of humility or grace. Do you really think there’s peace in… in this?” He gestured around the room, lips curling in contempt. “All I see is emptiness masquerading as freedom.”

Your eyes narrowed, your smile fading. “Freedom?” You flicked the ash from your cigarette, watching it drift to the floor like grey snowflakes. “Tell me, Father, when was the last time you felt free?” You crawled to him as he sat on the stained sheets, so close he could feel the warmth of your breath, the faint scent of smoke and cheap perfume mixing with the cold edge of his cologne. “You clutch that Bible like it’s a cage, not a comfort. You come here, looking down on us from your self-righteous mountain, but you’re the one running. From what, exactly?”

He stiffened, the muscles in his jaw tightening as if you’d struck a nerve. “I serve the Lord,” he said, voice quivering with a mixture of conviction and something darker, something unsettled. “I bring light to places that have forgotten it. I offer hope to the lost.”

You smirked, unbothered. “Hope, is it? Funny, you seem more scared than hopeful. You think that because I don’t kneel and grovel that I must be empty, but I don’t need your god to tell me right from wrong. I may be a ‘sinner’ in your eyes, but I don’t preach peace and then threaten damnation. I help the lost here, too, in my own way—without the guilt. And without shame.”

For a moment, his composure slipped, a crack appearing in the stone-cold mask he wore. He looked at you—really looked at you—as if seeing past the lipstick and the smoke to something rawer, something he couldn’t name.

“Kindness without repentance is hollow,” he muttered, almost to himself, fingers ghosting over the cross around his neck. His eyes betray his actions, he can't admit that he loves a sinner like you.

“And blind faith without understanding is cruelty,” you shot back, your voice like a knife through the heavy air. “You think kindness is something you hand down from on high, something earned by prayers and purity. But look around, Father. These people don’t need sermons. They need food, a place to sleep—a little mercy, not lectures.”

He opened his mouth, as if to counter, but words seemed to fail him. Instead, his face twisted, half pity, half frustration. “I’ll… pray for you.”

A dry laugh escapes you, a hollow sound in the oppressive quiet. “Pray for yourself, Father. You’re the one who seems lost here.”

“I just want to save you,” He reiterates, his eyes gleaming with desperation, “Please, just repent. There's always a place for you in the church”

An airy scoff escapes your lips as you smack his hand away, “A place for me? A place for a sin laden person like me?”

A pregnant silence filled the room, he clutched the cross on his neck. There must be an answer, and if there isn't, he'll make you one. His free hand reaches into his pocket, you feel a beaded bracelet rest onto your wrist. It's heavy, so heavy.

“What are you doing to me?”

“I just want to save you,” his hands trembled in sync with the flickering candle light, “Just listen to me.”

“Stop, stop—” no matter how many times you plead him to stop acting so pathetic, he implores mercy for you. The sacred bracelet on your wrist is a testament to his love and his faith— one you could never share.

Sunday vowed himself to never step into the walls of pleasure as they're the home to lust, they're home to fools who seek salvation in sex. Yet, he's here. He's here to seek salvation for you. He brought Xipe’s presence into the home of the devil, in hopes to coerce you to the brighter side.

His presence in this brothel feels like an enigma, he doesn't belong here.

“I don't want you to rot in hell,” he trails off, kissing your knuckles, “I’ve never felt this before— Xipe owns my body, my soul.”

Why does his touch feel so addicting compared to the touches of far fairer men than him?

His wings droop onto his shoulders, your clothes on the floor reflecting on his shiny halo but he doesn't budge. He doesn't want to leave you here, he knows your heart is kind, yet your body's defiled— he’s determined that he'll cleanse you, he'll cleanse you of this sin.

He presses his lips again to your knuckles, “Why do you have to be so difficult?” He mutters to himself as his sacred tears paint your tainted skin.

Xipe may own every fibre of his being, but you've taken his very soul, you've stolen it with every scornful laugh, every unrepentant sin. THEY have save you, THEY need to save you—

However, when he stares back into the abyss in your eyes, he knows you're long forsaken by their blessings.

When you don't recite the verses escaping his lips, he realises you're a lost cause.

Please, Xipe. Please do something about them—

If that's not enough, he's brought jar filled with ash.

“That's enough Sunday—”

“It's not.”

His words sunk low as he turned more desperate than a man faced with death. For you to die and rot in hell is death in itself.

You should run away, you should push him away.

You should throw him back to the cathedral he preaches in.

But a part of you wants saving.

A part of you long to be in the same world he is, in body and soul and in every prayer recited.

But you can’t.

With trembling hands, Sunday brought his fingers to the jar of ash he'd clutched as if it held the very essence of Xipe himself. His touch was reverent, fingers dipping into the blackened dust as he leaned forward, his face a mask of fevered determination. His breath was ragged, each exhale brushing against your skin like a ghost's touch, hovering close as he traced the symbol of harmony on your forehead.

The ash was cold and heavy against your skin, spreading like a dark stain over the sweat still clinging to you from moments before. Sunday’s fingers shook as he sketched each line, each curve, his brows furrowing as if with each stroke he could carve Xipe’s mercy into your very soul. His lips moved soundlessly, chanting prayers, pleading with his god to see you—to reach you. His eyes glistened, holding a desperation so raw it felt as though he were laying his soul bare with every brush of his fingers.

"Please," he whispered, voice breaking as he drew the final stroke, his forehead pressed against yours, the rough ash between you a stark reminder of the worlds that kept you apart. "Please, let this save you." His eyes searched yours, wild with a hope he couldn’t contain, pleading with a faith that was beginning to crumble as he realized that even this sacred act, this final attempt to offer you salvation, might still leave you beyond his reach.

You're still a sinner through and through.

Sunday’s fingers lingered, almost frozen against your skin as he stared at the dark symbol he’d left, the weight of it so heavy it felt like it would pull you both under. His breaths came uneven, shallow, as he fought against the reality sinking in—that his desperate plea might not reach you, that this sacred symbol he’d etched might be nothing more than a stain.

His hand drifted to your cheek, thumb tracing the faint smudge of ash, as though hoping to rub it deeper, to make it part of you in some way that went beyond flesh and bone. His eyes were wet, glistening with the weight of unspoken prayers, with the terror of a man standing on the brink of faith and despair.

“I love you— I want you.”

“Then want me.”

‘Want me without fear’ - what you should've said.

He shakes his head, swallowing. “I can’t. To want you… to touch you? I’d lose everything.” Each word is a knife, cutting through the heavy air between you.

“Then why are you here?” you murmur, your voice laced with disbelief, the irony palpable in the dim light. A saint in sacred clothing before a madonna whore.

“Because you’re worth saving.” His eyes are fierce, but they tremble.

You laugh bitterly. “Even if I don’t want it?”

“It’s not just for you!” His grip tightens around your hands, desperation bleeding into his voice. “I need to believe… that you can be saved, that I can—” He falters, his eyes darkening. “What if I’m here because I’m as damned as you?”

“Then maybe you should let go of salvation.”

His wings flutter as sobs wreck his soul. Why can't THEY save you too? Why does he have to live with the idea that you'll rot— that he can't do anything about it?

And as he kneels before you, his lips brushing over your knuckles in a final, desperate kiss, he prays—more for himself than for you.

"I’ve seen hell, and it’s not the one you think," you murmur, voice low, yet biting. "It’s in the way you look at me—like I’m nothing but a sin."

A flash of pain crosses his face, mingling with the flicker of understanding that never quite settles. Anxiety tightens his grip on your hand as he absorbs your words, though he’ll never truly understand them. He opens his mouth, but only silence falls—a prayer unsaid, a salvation he’s not even sure he can give.

His gaze drops, lingering on the thin sheet covering you like a veil over desecration, and he looks away, ashamed yet bound.

He leans in, lips hovering just above yours—a kiss he tells himself is selfless.

“I'll pray for you."

I'll forgive you.

Note: BYE BER MONTHS HIT ME LIKE A TRUCK— I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED PROGRESS OF MY WIP FICS AND I WAS IN TEARS AND JS CRASHED OUT. IM BACK BC GIGI PEREZ JS MADE ME WRIT EGAIAN

special mention: @whyiseveryname-taken bro I'm still ariting abt that angst jing yuan fic btw if u still remember 😈

Written by @khuzena. Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. ♡ 

[pinchofhoney]

be careful what you wish for

coriolanus snow x fem!reader

word count: 1.7k

warning: platonic relationship, quite angst-ish, text in italics is a flashback

summary: Turning in a district boy to the authorities felt like the right thing to do for Coriolanus. But what if, in doing so, he betrayed you as well?

a/n: absolutely no one asked for it, but i'll deliver it to you anyway<33 i'd say have fun but i'm not sure i'd be appropriate here

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

taglist: @watercolorskyy

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

The moment Sejanus shared Billy Taup's escape plan with you, there wasn't much hesitation on your part. It's not that you acted without thinking; it's just that you didn't need much time to decide.

The summer was scorching, feeling like an unending oven. The sun never let up, and even when you hoped for cooler nights, the heat lingered. You've gotten used to the coal dust that's practically become your second skin in District 12, but what truly got to you wasn't the clinging dirt. It was the musty scent of men's sweat, a scent that clung to the air, heavy with the hard work that defined your daily life.

Being one of the few female Peacekeepers among a crowd of men wasn't your ideal situation. Many other girls had come and gone, unable to stand the sacrifices the job demanded, but you stood your ground, determined to prove yourself in this role, even if serving in this particular district wasn't your dream come true.

At least until a certain point.

When you first arrived in District 12, your main goal was to pass your officer's exam as quickly as possible and secure a transfer elsewhere. But when young Plinth kindled the idea of a life beyond authority and rules, the seed of belief in freedom took root within you. The very thought of it resonated in your mind, sounding truly incredible, and you couldn't wait to leave the filthy district behind, escaping through a gap in the wire mesh fence.

But, of course, life wouldn't be too easy if everything just went as planned, right?

One moment, you were getting ready with Sejanus and the other rebels, gathering the basics for your escape north to the supposedly destroyed District 13. The next, you found yourself standing behind one of the empty houses on the Seam with Coriolanus. He held onto your shoulders, telling you urgently that you had to leave the District as soon as possible.

“What?” was the first word that slipped from your lips, your brows furrowed in confusion as you looked at your friend. “Isn't that exactly what we're working on?” you added, slightly amused, pushing Coriolanus' hands off your shoulders.

Shaking your head, you were about to update him on your progress when he caught your forearm again. “I think you misunderstood me, Y/N,” he said, his face dead serious. “You need to get out of here now,” he continued, and seeing your raised eyebrow, he almost gritted the last word through his teeth.

“What do you mean, Coryo?” you asked, breaking the silence after staring at him for a while, tired of him speaking in riddles.

Now Coriolanus was the one staying silent, his cool eyes fixed on you. You couldn't decipher his expressions; it felt like he was betraying a hundred feelings at once and, at the same time, nothing at all.

“I… um, there's…” the blond man started, stumbling over his words, unsure how to share the information he needed to tell you. “There's a chance that the talk Sejanus and I had, which you joined not long ago, about your escape plan, might have been fully recorded by one of the jabberjays.”

You seemed not to grasp the gravity of Coriolanus' words, so you stared at him, searching for any hint in his eyes that he might be joking.

“Okay, so what?” you eventually asked, once again furrowing your brows, this time with a bit less intensity.When a twig snapped around the building's corner, you quickly turned, thinking it might be someone eavesdropping, but finding only a small hedgehog, you shifted your attention back to the boy in the bluish uniform.

“So what?” Coriolanus repeated your question, unable to believe your difficulty in connecting the dots. “Y/N, these birds are headed to the Capitol. To the lab of the woman who’s the Head Gamemaker of the Hunger Games. And do you know what the Capitol authorities do to rebels?” he asked the question, not waiting for your response. “They hang them on the hanging tree, Y/N.”

You stared at Coriolanus, steadying yourself with a hand against the wooden building. With every word he spoke, you felt the color drain from your face.

“How… How did this happen?” you asked, trying to keep your emotions in check.

Coriolanus happily took care of the mockingjays, moving their cages, tagging them, and passing them along. As Bug left with the fiftieth cage, Sejanus burst into the room, full of excitement. He shared the good news about the upcoming package from his mother with his friends, watching Bug leave with a smile before turning to Coriolanus, who had just finished dealing with the bird marked as number 1.

The bird chirped in its cage, mimicking the last mockingbird, but once Bug was gone, Sejanus' cheerful expression faded, replaced by a troubled look. He glanced around the hangar to ensure they were alone before speaking in a quiet voice.

“Listen, we've only got a few minutes. I know you might not like what I'm about to do, but I need you to at least understand it. After what you said the other day, about us being like brothers, well, I feel I owe you an explanation. Please, just hear me out.”

This was the moment, the confession.

Now was the time for the pieces to be explained, especially about the alliance with rebels and money that he found in Sejanus' belongings. Once Coriolanus heard it, he'd be as good as one of them, a traitor to the Capitol.

Panic, running, or trying to silence Sejanus could be expected, but Coriolanus did none of these things. Instead, his hands moved instinctively. His left hand adjusted the cover of the jabberjay cage, while his right, hidden from Sejanus's view by his body, reached for a remote on the counter. Coriolanus pressed RECORD, and the jabberjay fell silent.

Turning his back to the cage, Coriolanus leaned on the table with his hands, waiting.

In the middle of Sejanus' explanation, you dashed into the hangar like a hurricane itself.

“There you are!” you exclaimed, both happy and a bit annoyed to find young Plinth. “Why didn't you wait for me? I said I wanted to go to Coryo with you,” you added, crossing your arms on your chest as you closed the gap between the boys and yourself.

It seemed that Coriolanus, noticing you in the hangar, tensed up a bit. He glanced briefly at the cage with the bird recording the conversation on the table, but neither of you or Sejanus noticed, and together, you continued explaining your plan to him.

During your report, where you and Sejanus competed over who could give Coriolanus more details, he lowered his head and rubbed his brow with his fingertips. It looked like he was trying to gather his thoughts, unsure how long he could stay silent without seeming suspicious.

But Sejanus rushed on, “I couldn't leave without telling you. You've been like a brother to me. I'll never forget what you did for me in the arena. I'll find a way to let Ma know what happened to me. And my father, too. I'll let him know the Plinth name lives on, even if it's in obscurity.”

The mention of the Plinth name was enough.

Coriolanus's left hand found the remote, and he pressed the NEUTRAL button with his thumb. The jabberjay resumed its earlier song.

Something caught Coriolanus's attention. “Here comes Bug.”

“Here comes Bug,” the bird echoed in his voice.

“Hush, you silly thing,” he scolded the bird, secretly pleased it had returned to its normal pattern. Nothing to alert both of you. He quickly covered the cage with a cloth and marked it with J1.

“I swear, I have no idea,” Coriolanus lied, wearing a worried expression. “While rearranging the cages, one of them must have snagged the remote control.”

You lightly bit your lower lip, eyeing your friend. Without any reason to doubt him, you finally let out a shaky breath.

Gazing up at the sky, you counted to three in your mind to steady your nerves. Then, you looked back at Coriolanus.

“Does Sejanus know?”

“Of course, I told him first,” he lied again, his gaze fixed beyond your shoulders without losing the concerned look on his face.

“God, what are we going to do now?” nerves took over every cell in your body as you asked another question. You leaned against the wooden building, slowly lowering yourself until you were sitting on the ground.

You lifted your head to meet Coriolanus's eyes, and he crouched in front of you, placing his hand on one of your knees.

“Hey, don't stress. You're heading back to the base now. Pack what you need, and tonight, you'll slip out of the district just like you planned with the rebels. You'll meet Sejanus at the lake, alright?” he spoke with a calmness, almost like talking to a kid, trying to reassure you.

Even though Coriolanus despised rebels — those who went against the Capitol's rules — he didn't want you to suffer the consequences that would surely befall Sejanus. He had nothing against you; in fact, he genuinely liked you. Your innocence about a better life beyond the Capitol's control wasn't his concern because you hadn't caused him any trouble, unlike young Plinth who had stirred up problems more than once.

“But won't it be suspicious if I suddenly vanish? They'll be searching for me, Coryo. They'll find me and punish me,” you said, placing your hand on his.

“I told you not to worry, remember?” Coriolanus replied, a bit sharper but still maintaining his reassuring tone. “I'll figure something out. No one's going to harm you.”

“But Coryo, you-” you began, but he quickly cut you off.

“Enough, Y/N,” Coriolanus said firmly, standing up from his crouch. “Get up. We're heading back to base,” he reached out a hand to you, which you took after a moment's hesitation. He helped you stand, silently conveying to act naturally before stepping out from behind the building.

You had no choice but to go along with Coriolanus' questionable plan, clinging to the hope that he knew what he was doing.

Little did you grasp the reality—that he was the cunning architect behind the recorded conversation. Sejanus wouldn't show up at the lake beyond District 12's boundaries. Instead, his fate would take a dark turn as he dangled lifeless from a tree in a matter of days.

[widowmaxff]

if you wanted to, could you please write an angsty oneshot of moms!wandanat and reader where they get into a a bad argument which results in reader running away to yelena’s? ending could be happy or sad- up to you overall!

proud

pairings: parents!wandanat × daughter!reader | yelena × fem!reader (all platonic)

warnings: angst, argument, crying, insecure reader (?), happy ending!, steve × reader (platonic) at some time of the one shot, bad writing

a/n: i finished this crying because a cockroach attacked me, so thats why the ending was kind of bad writing sorry :P anddd tysm for your request <333 i loved writing this

You were never sure when it started, but it was probably a long time ago. When you learned that having parents who fought the super villains in the world wasn't normal, you realized that your life wouldn't be normal either. But even though you liked seeing your mother training with her red powers or running and being able to do whatever you wanted through the great corridors of the Compound, you still missed having a 'normal' life.

Being able to go out on the street without worrying about some evil man who hates one of your mothers kidnapping you or even being able to make friends at school without them being people who just wanted to meet your uncles, were things you wanted so much to experience. But that wasn't the only thing that made you feel bad in your daily life, having mothers who were superheroes also made you barely see them in weeks.

Even though most people your age didn't want anything to do with their parents anymore, you still missed the comforting and long hugs, the nights you had a marathon of your favorite movies and even when you still had dinner together as a family. But now, either they were too busy with work, like missions and paperwork, or they just didn't want to deal with a teenager.

And even then you tried to get their attention in some way. "Mom?" You knock softly on Natasha's office door, hearing a quiet response for you to enter. "Can you help me study for my test of the next week? I really don't understand this." You chuckle seeing your mother's eyes continue on the papers on her desk.

"Can't you look up the answer on the Internet or something? I'm really busy here, Y/n/n." You knew that Natasha would dismiss you somehow, but deep down you still hoped that she would look at you.

"Yes, but- I wanted to understand how to solve it and not just research it." You whisper, watching your mother write something down in the corner of the paper.

"Wanda can help you." She says, her eyes unable to take the words from her face for even a minute.

"Okay- um, thanks anyway, Mom." You only hear a mumble under her breath, making you wonder if there was something wrong with you. You close the office door with a little less hope this time. Your other mother was always a step ahead than Natasha in terms of emotional comfort, so maybe she would help you in your task by remembering your daily difficulties with that kind of thing. "Mama?"

"Yes?" Your mother murmurs, you barely listening. Wanda was sitting on the sofa at the Compound while devouring herself with a book in her hands.

"Can you help me study for my test of the next week, please?" You sit next to her while Wanda flips through another white page of the big book.

"Now?"

"Yeah. If it's possible."

"Can I help you...tomorrow?" Wanda finally looks at you from above her book. "Today is my only day off from the week's missions and paperwork and I'm really tired right now, my love." Your eyes fall to your hands in your lap, it was obvious that deep down you knew she was going to promise you something and maybe she would deliver. But by the time the next day passed, and then the next, and then the next... and Wanda didn't talk to you about it, you knew she wasn't going to help you.

And when you felt your head hurt just looking at that big red note in the corner of your test, you knew your mothers' wouldn't react so well to it. Maybe before they started spending time apart from you, they wouldn't get mad or anything like that because of your grade, but now you were sure that wasn't what would happen.

Stirring your fork on the plate still full of food, you go over the things you would say to your mothers' about your school grade. You travel between words and don't even notice when someone enters your field of vision. "Is everything okay, Kid?" It was your Uncle Steve. He sits in front of you watching you think about what to say to him.

"Yeah, it's just...school stuff."

"Is someone picking on you?" You knew that Steve almost saw you as a daughter, and you also knew that he was aware of how your mothers would rather be busy than deal with a teenage girl going through puberty, and that maybe now is the time when you needs them the most.

"Not like before, but that's not it." You leave your fork on your plate before sighing deeply. "I just got my test and I didn't get a very good grade," Murmuring you hold back the tears that sting your eyes. "now I don't know how I'm going to tell my mothers this."

Steve sighs. "I'm sure they won't fight with you, Y/n/n. Your mothers' will understand what happened and a grade doesn't define who you are, okay?" Your uncle didn't have much certainty in his voice but you tried to believe him anyway. You nod and put a small smile on your face, as a gesture of thanks.

Steve ruffles your hair, getting up from the chair when he hears the loud and unmistakable footsteps of your mothers' approaching you. He sends you a smile to try to reassure you that everything will work out, and with each step closer to you, your heart starts to accelerate. Your mothers' had a neutral expression, even if Natasha seemed angrier. "Aren't you going to eat?" Wanda asks, walking past you and heading towards one of the closets.

Completely ignoring the question, you take a deep breath and swallow hard. "I received the grade for that test in which I asked you to help me study." You mutter as you saw your mothers still facing away from you. "I got a D." Your voice was low, but even so, the two stopped what they were doing and looked into the depths of your soul.

"You got what?" Natasha seemed to finally understand that you were there. Her arms crossed as she walked towards you.

"I-I asked for help and-"

"Now you're trying to get out of this by blaming us for not helping you?" Wanda cuts you off making your eyes focus on her.

"I'm just saying- I tried, okay?!" It could be said that you got anger issues from your mom genes, or that you were just overwhelmed and your patience was running out. And when your tone of voice increased, you knew Natasha's anger would increase as well.

"Hey, don't talk to your mother like that!" Natasha slams her fist on the table in front of you, making you almost jump out of your seat.

"Well, you shouldn't be talking to me like that either." You didn't know where so much courage came from to fight back against your mother, but when you realized it, the damage had already begun.

"I'm your fucking mother, I talk to you however I want!" Natasha had never made you feel as scared as you did now, but it seemed like now that the words started to come out, they wouldn't stop.

"Ah, you haven't even been acting like a mother these past few months. Hypocrisy, huh?" When you finished speaking, you saw Wanda's eyes want to turn red like her hair. She approached the two of you quickly with the angriest expression you had ever seen.

"What's your problem, Y/n?!"

"My problem?" You get up from the chair and cross your arms, anyone who saw you in that position would notice the similarities in anger between you and Natasha. "You tell me! I'm not the person who would rather spend time anywhere else than with her own daughter. I'm not the one who forgets that she still has a daughter to raise!"

You screamed so loud that you were sure the entire Compound could hear that argument and that they could probably feel the tension in that environment from afar. If you were in a cartoon, you could see smoke coming out of Natasha's head and definitely Wanda's eyes catching fire. "You're being so selfish right now, Y/n." 

"Am I?"

"Yes, you are! Just because your mother and I work all day to give you a better life, you think that we don't pay attention to you?" You had never seen Wanda like that, screaming and looking like she could kill anyone who came in front of her.

"Ah, yeah. Because last week when you weren't working you preferred to spend the whole day with Peter than with me just because he got a good grade!"

"Yes, because he always made us so proud by passing all the tests he had, unlike you!" Natasha spits the words out of her mouth without even thinking about what she was saying. And when they passed your ears you could feel your heart breaking.

Hearing that your mothers were more proud of a teenager who worked with them than they were of you made you feel like a gunshot was slowly passing through your chest. Natasha and Wanda knew how insecure you felt in your daily life, mainly due to academic validation, and now it seemed like all those days they had to spend helping you feel better about yourself were going down the drain.

Natasha sighs deeply when she sees your eyes widen, holding back tears that would fall at any moment. Wanda didn't seem any different when she heard the same words coming out of her wife's mouth. She never imagined that an argument of that size would ever happen between you, and Wanda could have sworn that she felt her heart stop beating out of disgust at the thought of how bad you must be feeling right now. "Y/n, I didn't mean-"

"It's okay." You murmur, uncrossing your arms. Two tears fall from your eyes and you make sure to wipe them away quickly. Your eyes were anywhere but on your mothers, because you felt so disgusting knowing that they were more proud of Peter than they were of you, that you couldn't even look at them.

Neither Wanda nor Natasha say anything when you turn and start walking out of the kitchen. You seemed to be walking automatically, your eyes blurry and your mind foggy, just going through your mother's words, over and over. But when you realize it, you're already outside the Compound, a few blocks away. You remember only one person who could help you outside of that place, and who wouldn't mind if you showed up suddenly.

And that's how you found yourself in front of Yelena's apartment, your aunt. She had found a place to live close to Natasha's house when she reconnected with her years ago, and especially when she discovered that she had a daughter, you. "Y/n?" Yelena seemed confused to see you there, with your face soaked and red, looking like an abandoned puppy. "Hey, what's wrong?" She didn't take long to have you in her arms.

"M-Mom and Mama h-hate me." You finally managed to murmur after some time sitting on the sofa in the apartment with Yelena stroking your hair and saying affectionate words. 

Anyone who saw her doing this wouldn't believe it. Yelena wasn't the type of person for physical touches and especially sweet words, but when the subject was you, she became another person. "Why do you say that? They love you more than anything, Y/n/n."

"No, they don't."

Yelena had never seen you like this, not when you cried for days when you saw your favorite character dying, not when your mothers had to leave for a long mission. It was strange to see you crying almost as if there was no air in your lungs, your aunt wondered what happened to make it look like you had a bullet in your body and you were begging her to take it out. So, when you fell asleep crying on the couch, Yelena didn't wait a minute to call Natasha and insult her in every way possible. "What the fuck did you do?"

"What?"

"Y/n showed up at my door, I've never seen her crying as much as she does now." Yelena looks at you from the apartment's kitchen, you were curled up on the sofa with a blanket covering your body.

"Are you with her? Wanda and I were looking for her throughout the entire Compound." Natasha seemed to be relieved on the other end of the call, but even so her voice still sounded apprehensive about what had happened. "We're going to your apartment, I'll answer your question when we get there."

"You better!"

[...]

"She's sleeping on the couch." Yelena says when she sees Wanda and Natasha's eyes follow behind her, trying to find you. Yelena noticed Wanda's red eyes, not as if she wanted to cast circles of magic through her hands, but as if she had cried before arriving at the apartment. Your aunt knew that Wanda was sensitive, especially when it came to the topic of you and that you probably inherited that from her too, but for you two to cry so much like that, something really happened. 

"Tell me what happened before you look at my niece again." Yelena has always been very protective of you, for example the time two girls made you the target of jokes in your school, and your aunt didn't wait a second to go to each of their houses and have a word with them. 

"I better show you." Wanda says getting closer to Yelena, moving her fingers that came out red magic towards her mind - Steve messing up your hair, Wanda opening cabinets, red grade, Natasha screaming, you screaming, not being a mother, Wanda screaming, Peter being mentioned, not proud, disgusting feeling, you crying, you leaving the kitchen.

"Jesus." Yelena sighs deeply, running her hands over her face. "I really don't know how you're going to fix this, but I'll warn you: the hole is deeper than it looks."

"What- what do you mean by that?"

"Look, I'm sure you didn't want this to turn into a big snowball, but Y/n been feeling neglected for so long that after today it might take a while for things to get back to normal." Yelena says leaning on the front door frame.

"We didn't-"

"Yes, you did this to her. Today wasn't the first time she's shown up at my door in the last few months, but she's worse than the other times." Yelena crosses her arms and closes her eyes trying to calm down. "I had to listen to her talk about how you hardly talk to her on a daily basis, how you forgot to go to her presentation at school and didn't even apologize, how there were days when you forgot to pick her up and she had to walk in the rain to my apartment because it was closer, how she cried because you never had movie nights again because apparently now you have movie nights with Peter." Yelena's voice got louder with each thing she remembered you saying to her, and there were countless things. "I don't want to hear what you have to say, I want you to talk to her, apologize."

Natasha was so embarrassed to hear all those things from Yelena that she preferred to remain silent. Wanda had started to cry again, but it was silently, digesting all those things they did and didn't do to you. She had always dreamed of being a mother and now that she wasn't acting like one made her want to vomit over her own actions.

"Can we see her?" It was a stupid question coming from them, since they were your mothers and have the right to see you whenever they want. But they knew that everything was messy and bad for you because of them, so the least they had to do was respect your space.

Yelena just nods and gives Wanda and Natasha space to enter the apartment, taking light steps towards you. They bend down in front of you and see your swollen eyes and your red face with dried tears. Your mothers could cry just to see you in this state. Wanda starts to caress your face trying to make you wake up calmly, it was something she used to do when she went to your room in the morning every day to wake you up. And when you felt that you quickly knew who it was. "Mama?"

"Shh, yes it's me, my love." Wanda says with a small smile on her face when she hears your voice. You seemed lost for a few seconds but when you looked around the apartment you quickly remembered, throwing off the blanket and quickly sitting down on the couch. "Hey, it's okay."

"What are you two doing here?" You murmur, looking at your mothers' faces, who seemed sorry for everything that happened.

"We... came to talk and apologize, is that okay for you?" Natasha says, you could see in her face that she felt just as guilty as Wanda, because most of those horrible words were said by her. "Yeah, I guess." Wanda sighed in relief at your answer and felt some of the weight leave her body.

"I know that just apologies won't be enough to make you want to be around us for now, but your mother and I are completely sorry, my love. We were so stupid about leaving you aside these last few months, we didn't even realize what we were doing to you and it's really fucked up." The swear word made you laugh briefly, putting a smile on your mothers face. "And maybe you don't want to forgive us and that's definitely okay, but know that we're going to do everything we can to get things back on track, okay?"

Natasha agrees with Wanda's words and takes a deep breath before starting to speak. "We love you very, very much, sweetheart. And you are our greatest pride in our entire lives. I know you may not believe this, but you can be sure that me, your mother, your aunt and all your other uncles feel most proud of you, okay? You're our little star and our little agent." 

A genuine smile appears on your face when you hear the sweet words that came out of your mothers' mouths. "First, you guys are literally the only people I want by my side and that's the only thing I've wanted these last few months. And I'm really grateful that you guys are sorry about that, even though it's probably going to be hard for things to go back to normal." They nod their heads when they hear your words in your low voice. "And I... forgive you. Not completely but until I can feel good again, but I think hearing you say sorry is a start."

"Okay, yes, that's okay." Wanda leaves a kiss on your forehead and strokes your hair affectionately. "We love you so much, dear."

"Love you too." You say, hugging the two women in front of you, finally feeling maternal affection after feeling neglected for so long and wondering what you had done wrong. Even though it took a while to get used to it all again, you were definitely happier than ever just hearing the words that they were proud of you. "Now I finally don't need to come to talk to Auntie Yelena anymore."

"Hey! I heard that!" Yelena shouts from another room in the apartment making the three of you laugh. You loved making fun of her, but even so, you will always be thankful for all the things she did for you. "Wow you're so ungrateful, Mini Romanoff."

[earthtooz]

BABE I HAD AN IDEA- Reo Mikage ANGST where he calls reader a gold digging whore in the middle of an argument, ultimately affirming all of her insecurities so he has to figure out a way to show that he didn't mean it and that he's sorry without using his disgustingly abundant wealth 💔 anyways ilysm hope you take care of yourself

NO YOU ARE LITERALLY DISGUSTING FOR THIS (affectionate) YOUR MIND >>> YOU ARE SOOOOO RIGHT. SHUT UP THIS WILL LITERALLY BE THE MOST SCRUMPTIOUS FIC EVER BECAUSE I AM LITERALLY ABOUT TO PUT MY WHOLE EARTHUSSY INTO INCORPORATING THIS IDEA SOMEWHERE !!! BUT FOR NOW, TAKE THIS SNIPPET I WHIPPED UP IN ONE SITTING.

girl feel free to come back into my inbox WHENEVER and giving me your juicy ideas bc holy shit i loved this.

CW: HURT/COMFORT - A LOT OF BOTH, SWEARING, UNEDITED - I WAS GOING THRU IT WHILST WRITING THIS DON'T LOOK AT ME!

IMAGINE THIS: it's been a rough night for both you and reo, he's been through a lot in the past weeks because his dad just had to during the middle of soccer season to lecture reo about how to run a big business. the transition process is beginning to happen since father mikage is about to retire and although your purple-haired boyfriend has been preparing for this his whole life, having gone to business school part-time and graduating with honours, there's still a little part of him that feels weary from all the responsibilities.

all this accumulated stress needs to have an outlet eventually, right? welp, you just happened to be there at the right (wrong) time. you were simply delivering a platter of apples to your boyfriend who had his head in his hands, hunched over an endless pile of paperwork that was beginning to irk him with each passing second. countless images of him shredding up the paper flowed into his mind, a fury that manifested into his reality, except the paper was you D,:

one thing evolved into another, reo's endless stream of venomous words didn't stop flowing out of him as he spat poison after poison, burning you with the intensity of it all.

"you're so overbearing, can't you see that i'm fine? unlike you i can handle myself when things get hard," he spits, eyeing you with fury in his eyes, one that makes you gulp thickly.

"reo-"

-but you wouldn't know the first thing about fighting for what you want right, you fucking gold-digger."

that stops you in your tracks, silences you effortlessly, causing you to let your hands drop limply back to your sides as you stare at your boyfriend blankly. you're sinking into an abyss of hurt and insecurity, it's getting harder to breathe because of the way your chest swells with anger.

reo only continues, not noticing the way you physically and emotionally drop. "even if you don't give me attention for one second of the day, i won't forget you exist, so stop being so clingy and unnecessary! my money isn't going anywhere either, you don't need to occupy majority of my day so leave me alone. go shop online or something."

that was it. was that all reo perceived you to be? a dent in his money, the expenses of his bank account?

"fine. goodbye," you simply mutter before slipping through his office door, out in the hallway.

"don't bother me whilst i'm in here," he says with finality, one last declaration before you shut the door behind you.

the luxurious walls of reo's penthouse look down at you mockingly, the spacious area caging you in, chanting 'gold-digger' over and over again until it's all you hear.

staying here feels wrong.

so, you grab your purse and leave, as quietly as possible. slipping down to the garage where your (second hand) car was parked, you start the engine up and begin reversing out of the parking lot.

you begin to reflect on your relationship with reo. you love him, you really do, you love him because he's reo, the man who was always capable of making you smile, laugh, and make you feel like you were on top of the world. his money and fame was an added bonus that you truly didn't care much about.

but ever since dating him, you've had your own insecurities that have been forced on you by other people. there were crowds calling you a 'gold digger' who was only with reo 'for the money', and although you were sure of yourself and your intentions, your armour breaks down sometimes.

what reo said tonight was the final jab that allowed it to fully disintegrate.

you had a stable job of your own and finances to your own name, money wasn't something you avidly chased, sure having a few zeroes in your bank account was nice but that was all you really needed. as long as you could buy necessities and spoil yourself, it was satisfactory, and you could provide that for yourself!

reo loved to spoil you, showering you in luxurious gifts that you never knew how to accept. it would take a great deal of convincing for you to take what he bought you, and when you promised him to stop buying them for you, he agreed before buying you more material stuff.

as you pull up to the parking lot of the apartment complex that you resided in, you get into the elevator with a heavy heart, pressing the button to your floor with a lot of emotions.

the ride is silent. everything is so silent.

your apartment is even more silent. it's unused, slightly barren. your furniture was still there, except some dust had gathered on the tables and cabinets from how long you've neglected it.

the only reason you were able to keep your apartment was because you had no expenses outflowing since reo took care of almost everything. anything you needed, he bought it, groceries, bills, whatever, were charged on his card. for a period of time, your bank account merely grew and never decreased.

and since you hadn't been here for a while, electricity and water bills never bothered you too much.

you flop onto your made bed with a sigh. it wasn't as soft as reo's but you didn't find it in you to care, you just needed some well-deserved shut eye.

well, 'shut eye' occurred for merely an hour before your phone started vibrating violently.

with a groan, you shove your face back into your pillows before blindly reaching for your phone.

you already knew who it would be without looking at the caller id. of course reo would be looking for you, noting your obvious absence in his penthouse.

"hello?" you mutter.

"y/n? where the hell are you?" comes reo's frantic voice from the other line. he sounds genuinely concerned.

"doesn't matter."

"i'm sorry for everything i said. please, come back."

"reo, i'm tired, i can't do this with you right now."

"i'm sorry, i'm really really sorry."

"i don't want to hear this right now."

"i love you."

you sigh and you're sure reo can hear it on his end. unsure of how to respond, you just hang up on him before throwing your phone away. normally, you would feel bad about the way you left him, but that wasn't the case this time. you just needed to sleep on this.

but, it was reo you were talking about, and the last thing he was going to let you do was sleep without him.

at 1:24am, there's a series of ferocious knocks on your door, followed by screams of your name.

oh my god it was so embarrassing, you literally shoot out of bed as soon as you register what was happening and dash for your door. you don't want to disturb your neighbours' sleep and let them hear that the pathetic grovelling of your boyfriend. the entire hallway could hear reo and his shouting.

you open the door, pull him in, and slam it shut behind you again, leaving the purple-haired to stare at you with a bewildered expression.

"what are you doing here?" you hiss.

he looks at you the same way a puppy does when its owner kicked it out of the house.

you should've known that merely telling reo 'i don't want to hear this right now' would not be enough to pacify his determination and the fact that you hung up on him only intensified his pettiness. the purple-haired always sought you out, pulling himself into your orbit like a magnet. where you went, reo followed, even if it was to the ends of the world.

he had the money to do whatever he wanted, you suppose.

"i wanted to make sure you were safe," he pouts. "i didn't know whether you'd be here or not."

"well, i'm safe, and i'm here. so."

"i can see that," he leans against the back of your couch. reo looks so out of place in your small apartment, awkwardly playing with his hands. "so... should we go to bed?"

the audacity. "what do you mean 'we'? go back home, reo, i'll see you some other time."

as you turn around to go back to your bedroom, reo's quick enough to round around you, blocking you from the hallway with his larger figure.

"but you are my home. please, i'm really sorry about what i said, i didn't mean it," he pleads, grabbing your face so you could look him square in the eye.

you step out of his grasp easily, shaking him off. if you were in your right mind, you would've seen the look of heartbreak on reo's face.

"sure, if you didn't mean it then you wouldn't have said it in the first place, mikage."

you swerve around him to reach your bedroom and he follows you the entire time, trailing behind you, desperate for an ounce of your attention.

"i know i fucked up, but i didn't mean to hurt you and project my frustrations like that onto you when you were just trying to care for me." you sit down on your bed with a sigh and reo takes a seat beside you. "you know i love you right? like, a lot."

that's right. if there's one thing about reo it's that he loves you to an endless degree.

"thank you for always caring for me. i know you don't do it because you're after my money or fame, but because you want to ensure that i'm healthy and not rotting in all that i have to do," his voice cracks. is he beginning to cry. "i don't know what i'd do without you."

you let a beat of silence pass by before dropping your walls. he was always going to smash through them no matter what.

"i've always felt insecure in our relationship," you confess, no louder than an exhale and if reo wasn't holding on to every action of yours, he wouldn't have heard you. "being called a gold digger became normal when i started dating you and i didn't really care. well- i tried not to care."

you continue. "i don't want to let these comments get to me, but then you said it and... i don't know, it just felt horrible."

you feel an arm sneak under your leg, and another hand come to your elbow, both of which simultaneously pull you to straddle reo's lap. you don't look him in the eye- something he frowns at.

"i love you for you. you're the best i'll ever have, reo, but sometimes i-"

"-please don't finish that sentence," he murmurs, breath fanning against your face.

you meet his gaze. he's crying freely. tears are running down his cheeks like streams and you instinctively bring use your thumbs to catch the drops. you hate it when he cries.

"i don't want it to be anyone else but you," confesses the purple-haired. "i hate it when we're separated, i can't stay away from you too long or i think i will go insane."

his statement causes you to giggle a little.

"you laugh but i'm telling the truth."

"i laugh because you make me happy."

his arms wound around your waist, keeping you pressed against him, leaving you with no room to escape or part from him. just what reo likes.

"i'm sorry for what i said," he says against your collarbone. "when i didn't see you in our home, i didn't know what to think. i got so scared for a second because i had no idea where you could've gone so i started spamming your number-"

"-yeah wait, was calling me 24 times necessary?"

"i was going to keep calling you until you picked up so it could've taken 24 or 1000 times or more. now let me speak." you nod wordlessly, smiling a little at how silly reo can be. "and when i realised that you went back to your apartment, i felt horrible that i drove you out."

he looks up at you with glossy eyes.

"you came here because you wanted to prove me wrong, right? because you bought all this by yourself and don't need me, right?"

"well, kind of, but i also didn't want to be around you so i came back here."

reo frowns before leaning in to press delicate kisses to your neck. "please don't leave me. i need you by my side," he inhales before whispering his next statement. "even if you don't need me."

a hand of yours go up to thread through his hair. "don't say that," you use your other hand to direct his face away from your neck, pressing a kiss against his puckered lips. "i absolutely adore you, my love. you're my favourite person ever."

he smiles before leaning in again, kissing you with more fervour and passion. you can feel another tear slide down his cheek.

"lets go to bed, reo," you say when you part and he simply nods, laying you on the side of the bed before laying beside you, arms naturally finding themselves around your waist as reo tugs you as humanely close as possible. "sorry if this mattress isn't as comfortable as your twelve grand one back home."

"i couldn't care less," he whispers whilst tracing patterns on your bare skin.

so long as it's you he's next to, reo doesn't have a lot to complain about.

[uncouth-the-fifth]

good morning, charlie - Leon Kennedy/Reader

read it on Ao3.

Pairing: Agent!Leon/Detective!Wife!Reader Tags: domestic fluff with the tiniest dustings of background angst, married life, hugging, kissing, and snuggling. Words: 3k (yes, I'm capable of keeping something this short) Notes: read this in a WWE announcer voice: THAT'S RIGHT! UNCOUTH HAS COME CRASHING BACK INTO THE RING AFTER YET ANOTHER MONTHS-LONG HIATUS. i'm magical, truly. here is the first Leon fic I promised last month! There's so much I want to say about this little drabble, but I'll save that for my curious ppl on Ao3. this is going to be a big 180 from my spn content, and I sincerely hope that's okay with the public 😭 for my RE people: enjoy domestic Leon bullshit!

At two in the morning, Washington D.C. is pouring everything it has into crafting the coziest atmosphere of all time. A pleasant window-tapping storm had rolled in right around when you resolved to stay up working. Some late-night radio host is making soft, fizzing chatter in the next room, and coupled with a stellar view of the city from fancy floor-to-ceiling windows, you have a prime opportunity to pass the fuck out.

Unfortunately, you have made some spectacular life choices that don’t mix well with a full night’s rest. Nope, no sleep for you. Despite all of fate’s attempts to stop you from being a cop, (including throwing a city-wide outbreak at you on your first day), you are still here, gripping your job with both hands. At two in the damn morning.

Since scrubbing your eyes hadn’t woken you up the first five times you tried it, you give it another shot as you pace the length of your living room rug—from the coffee table you’ve stacked with files, then back to the whiteboard pasted top-to-bottom with pictures of missing young women. The whiteboard had been Leon’s idea. After the fourth time you’d transformed a flattened cardboard box into a morbid case-board for work, he’d cajoled you into letting him buy one for the apartment.

But I won’t be able to stab the tacks into it, you’d pouted.

Oh, the agony, your husband had drawled. He was a master of delivering a good, dry look.

You’d propped your fists on your hips and tried your best to look serious. The red yarn connecting everything isn’t just a detective-movie thing, y’know! It’s actually really useful. And I need my tacks to stick the yarn in—

Leon had cut cleanly through your building sass with another look, this time one glimmering with humor. Then I’ll get you magnetic ones, detective. Don’t you use whiteboards at the precinct anyway?

You’d grumbled. Because, yes, you did use whiteboards at the station, and they did have the little tacks with the magnets on the bottom. But you’d refused to deal with Leon being all smug (he was unbearable pretty when he was right), and had teased back instead, Whatever, nerd. Why don’t you and the other two angels go call Charlie already?

The reference had gone clean over Leon’s head. Of course, he hated being left out of a joke, so he’d roped you over by your wrist and pinched an explanation out of you until you were squealing with giggles.

Summarizing Charlie’s Angels to Leon had been a lot like offering a paper rocketship to an aerospace engineer. But, hey, picturing him running around in skimpy outfits and escaping action movie explosions on a motorcycle is a whole lot more fun than… than the real deal.

You don’t want to think about what his missions are really like. Not that you’re even allowed to know in the first place. Being Leon’s wife permits you a government-issued phone with his handler’s number, and on antsy days you can push Ingrid for details if you want. But after so long you’ve learned it only hurts both of you—for her, in the inability to answer, and for you, in the excruciating pain of being unable to know. Where is he? That’s classified.

She can’t always tell you when he’s coming home, either. So much of your life is hinged on her check-ins, and even more is forced to live off a simple, He’s okay.

For the seventh time, you scrub at your tired eyes and suck in a deep breath. You’d gotten that fabled text from Hunnigan—he’s okay—earlier today, and like always you crawled through the rest of your shift roiling with anticipation, waiting for Leon to materialize back into your life.

You force your gaze back to the whiteboard, littered with notes and pictures hung up with magnetic tacks. The faces of five missing women bore back. The ten-ton weight of your caseload slams down in full, and again, you scold yourself for floating back into comforting memories of your husband. These girls have lost all comfort in the world since they were taken. Your Captain gave you the responsibility of finding them, and after all you’ve been through, after all the other cases you’ve closed, there can’t be any room for failure. Think.

Your legs ache from being on your feet all day, chasing leads, but dropping into Leon’s armchair for even an instant will just have you nodding off again. More pacing it is, then. This is your pattern for the next half-hour: pace, re-read witness statements, turn, sip your coffee, pace, cross-reference alibis. He’s okay. Two of the girls were taken from Queen’s Chapel, two from Takoma, one from Woodridge. He’s fine. The last victim breaks the profile. What’s different about her? Why take her? Think think think— You know what Leon would do. He was the kind of person you could put in front of a problem, and no matter what he would find a way to shoulder his way through. With physical force, sure, but mental force too. He would sit and just look at the puzzle, and sheer willpower would lead him to some kind of answer. But you’d been pushing and pushing for days now, pursuing every lead, pressing every witness, yet nothing will give. The whole thing feels like a punching bag you’re beating at over and over again, knuckles raw and bloody—

Keys rattle just outside the front door.

First the big deadbolt scrapes open, unlatching with a heavy thud, and that sound alone is enough to shock you awake. More than any coffee could. Then comes the doorknob. Leon hasn’t even turned his key before you’ve twisted the lock open, yanked the door out of your way, and sent it whipping into the jamb with his keyring still swinging from its slot. You give him one full blink to register that it’s you before you’re throwing yourself on him without a single lick of shame, legs and all.

Of course, Leon bears your weight with grace. He grunts out an oof! when you come in for landing, and the living, breathing sound drains into one gruff laugh. You’re scooped up under the thighs and teddy bear squeezed against him. He reeks of cheap motel soap and something faintly coppery—then mint, a whole world of plush, wet spearmint when he nudges your face up with his nose and lays a hello kiss on you. The taste of his gum and the scratch of his stubble on your chin make your skin feel like it’s fizzing, inside-burning-out, every inch of you stood on end by his static charge. Jesus, this guy. He feels like fucking magic, and you’re confident that the laws of physics don’t quite apply around him. Everything in the room, in the too-big apartment that’s painfully empty without him in it, tilts toward Leon.

You shove your face nose-first into his neck and clutch the back of his jacket in both fists. Swallowing hard, you manage, “Hey, angel.”

“Good morning, Charlie,” Leon says.

If you had any resolve for today left in you at all, the wash of his sizzling butter voice would squash the last of it. You’d been trying to be sweet, but your husband has to be funny about fucking everything, of course. Even after weeks spent apart. You love him so fucking much.

“Don’t tell me you found time to watch that stupid movie.” Your voice is muffled by his coat, and you’re grateful for an excuse to hide.

You’re moving. Leon carries you inside, his wedding band pressing into your leg and his other big, warm hand spooned around your back. “Boring plane ride. I wanted to get your jokes.”

Your front door is toed shut, and with all the efficient maneuvering of a proper agent, Leon gets the place locked up behind you. Somewhere in all the commotion he’d dropped his go-bag by the welcome mat, and you hear the dramatic thunk, thunk, of his fancy work loafers being kicked off beside it. Only then does he slip you onto your own feet again.

Your hands slide down his arms as you make contact with the floor. Somewhere in the back of your mind you’re aware that he’s damp from the rain, but that fact hangs in the little alternate universe he’s made in your front hall. Standing there and being able to look at him straight-on, Leon doesn’t feel real. It’s like your constant thoughts of him have manifested a ghost in his shape, mimicking the smiley rookie you remember.

He greets you with a quiet, beaten-down smile, and you understand immediately that the world has thrown its fair share of punches at him, too. You’ve both had a shit week. The Kennedy surname just brims with good luck, huh?

Your hands work on autopilot as you take him in, slipping under the fabric of his jacket and lingering over his thudding heart. His warm blue gaze swims over your face, and you can almost hear the clicking mechanisms in his head as he forces himself out of operative mode and into home mode by looking at you.

“It’s a really bad movie,” you say, choked up.

Leon’s jacket hits the floor with his shoes. There’s a swath of ugly, purpling bruises crawling up his bare arm, old enough to be greening at the edges, and your stomach churns when you see it.

He taps your chin up, pulling you away from the damage and back on him. His voice rolls over you like bourbon in a glass. “Absolutely. So-bad-it’s-good, even. We should watch it, make fun of it together. Like, why the hell does…”

Leon flawlessly falls into an analysis of the movie’s poorly-written espionage elements. The movie you made one offhand joke about several weeks ago, mind you. He’s pulling at straws, saying whatever the hell comes to mind to make you laugh, so exhausted he’s literally swaying on his feet. You can’t believe he’s trying to distract you with something so trivial, but this is your husband. One flash of that weary closed-mouth smile, one brush of those callused hands down your wrists, and your whole world resumes its orbit around him.

You laugh at the jokes he’s obviously crafted for your benefit, a weak chuckle your heart isn’t in. With his hands looped around your wrists, he guides your arms around his neck and welcomes you back into the toasty bubble of his touch. Leon’s even warmer from being tucked underneath his coat. Pure goodness and safety glows off him like a fucking nuclear reactor, and it dawns on you that you haven’t felt safe at all since he left. Anyone can be plucked off the streets here.

One more scratchy kiss and then he’s leading you deeper into your apartment. No one on Earth would believe that he’s a chatty guy, but he talks the whole way through. Too often he’s left to sit in his own mind on missions, and you’re treated to two week’s worth of his backlog in the next ten minutes. All the little things he wanted to say to you. The streams of smart-mouth commentary he was famous for at the academy are all inner monologue now, but you’re confident the Leon radio show still runs twenty four hours a day. He chatters so much in his head that it slips out of him like water sometimes—

“…that close to an explosion would disintegrate you, but fuck physics I guess—“ Leon interrupts his own flow of thought to squint at you. “Quit looking at me like that. It’s unfair how pretty you are when you’re tired. What was I—not like the laws of physics apply to that movie anyway, but…”

—and you’re stupidly charmed by it. He talks to comfort himself, and because the two of you are one unit, one person to him, he does the same for you.

With your hand tethered in his, he clicks off the radio in the kitchen. One of Leon’s side-stories replaces the random late-night station that’d been playing, floating over the din of the rain like bass over relaxing drums. He pours out the dregs of your coffee. He closes the files full of gruesome crime scene photos on your coffee table, and you watch, barely able to keep your head up, as he flips your whiteboard over to its blank side. You’ll get his second opinion on the case tomorrow.

Leon sweeps the place with you in tow, and once the security system’s armed and you’re almost sagging against him, the lights come off. Though you’ve had plenty of time to adjust to the Leon that returned home from training, you’ll never get used to the little alien ticks it’s given him. He navigates to your bedroom in complete blackness. He avoids the creaky floorboard just outside your door without seeing, deathly silent. The broad presence of him looms in the dark.

One wall of the bedroom is nothing but paneled glass, throwing a long square of dark blue moonlight over your rumpled comforter. While the view of the Potomac and Capital Hill is stellar from up here, you’ve always felt out of place among the things Leon’s generous salary has earned the two of you: a flat with a private elevator in the nice part of town, fresh-off-the-press sports cars, a getaway cabin up north. So much of it you end up enjoying by yourself. It only ever feels worth it when he’s here, smacking his elbow into the digital wall-panel that controls your A/C.

“—s’ supposed to be a touch screen,” he sidebars himself for the tenth time. Softer, Leon adds, “Brush your teeth. I’ll be right there.”

You rope your arms around his middle and press your face into the heart of his back, careful of the bruises he’s doing his best to hide. “Wanna wait for you.”

Leon doesn’t protest. There’s more little beeps as he screws with the temperature of your mattress or something, deciding, “We live in a damn spaceship. Are we too good for plain old-fashioned buttons now?”

Apparently you are, since old man Leon fails to figure out how to crank the heat up. You let him play with it for a little while longer (it’s not his fault he’s rarely home), and then intervene with a few quick taps when things get dire. The heater hums to life under the floor a beat later, and he turns in your grip to scoff, mystified by your vast and incredible knowledge.

“My smart girl,” he hums.

Just that is enough to chip off a piece of your strength. Had he said that to you over the phone, a million miles away in god-knows-where, your knees would buckle. He is the only one who talks to you like that—with so much simple, uncomplicated love. Too tired to put your thoughts into words, you flatten a hand over his heart and kiss the sun-freckled nape of his neck.

“Clingy,” Leon mutters. You’re pretty sure it’s supposed to sound dry and funny, another one of his jokes. But then he’s smoothing both of his palms down your arms in two long handsy swaths, and the gesture tells you everything about just how clingy he’s feeling, too.

His stories make getting ready for bed an even slower affair. You couldn’t mind if you wanted to. As you help him out of his starchy dress-shirt button by button, he surprises you with a rare explanation of where he’s been for the last weeks. The UK. Truly, your husband is the special secret agent to end all special secret agents: he talks around his job as if it was a bump he’d hit on the way home, entertaining you instead with his Leon-ified vision of London. Touristy as shit. Loud as shit. Smelled like shit.

“Just like DC,” he chuckles, and then a second time when your fluffy head pops through the collar of the sleep shirt he’s dressing you in.

It’s too much rough, cinnamon spice laughter for one woman to stand. You duck away to brush your teeth and groan into your palms like a schoolgirl over him, but sure enough, Leon trails you, fingers chasing the hem of your shirt (his shirt) in a sleepy daze. He always keeps you in view. Nervous, maybe, to have you out of his sight.

This tradition continues when the two of you crawl into bed. Your eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and so has your body, able to sense him on the stupidly expensive mattress beside you. He thinks you can’t tell, but his gaze roves over you again and again—down your back when you flop face-first into the plush bedding, over the slope of your shoulder when you wiggle under the covers. Leon draws you into the glorious halo of his body heat with a gentle hand on your belly. If you could bottle this feeling, the whole world would be sick and stupid for him in hours. Minutes even.

You feel so safe that the word doesn’t even come to mind. Just vague, peaceful shapes of things you know, home, sleep, cologne, cozy. His work-rough palm with his body-warm wedding band slips under your tee to sweep over your ribs. Then comes Leon’s face, just on the right side of stubbly as he shoves it between your shoulder blades without a single lick of shame. The breath he takes of you is so heavy that his whole frame shudders with it, top to bottom.

You remember how you’d burrowed into his jacket the second he got home and think, You are me and I am you. We’re always on the same page.

With that, the stage is set. DC’s faraway glittering cityscape lights up all the raindrops on your window, and you watch them run as the two of you melt into one another. Leon’s warm breaths slow across your neck. Time for you to deliver your line.

You wet your lips and murmur into your pillow, “Do you want to talk about your mission?”

Legally, he can’t say yes. Government secrets, bureaucracy, yadda yadda. Leon isn’t always emotionally ready to crack open a coffin he’s just finished sealing, either, but while it is his job to close your case files for the night, you’re his wife. You’re the only person who can knock on that door. With how little choice he has left in his life, you try to give him options whenever you can. Regardless, you know the man you married—strong-willed on a mythical fucking level, and just as self-sacrificing. He’ll always try to spare you.

Sure enough, Leon says, “Tomorrow. Do you want to talk about your case?”

You shake your head at him, exhausted to the point of dizziness. “Tomorrow.”

A tender kiss is pressed to the nape of your neck, and the whole world goes silent for the perfect, husky whisper you’ve ached to hear. You feel his wry smile against your skin. “We’re always on the same page, baby.”

[darkmatilda]

╰┈➤ the pumpkin reaper

part 2: second day of investigation

part 1 here!

part 3 here!

in which you and the bau are handling the case of a murderer in a small, sleepy town

tw: decapitation, description of the crime scene etc, mention of a suicide attempt, mental illness

contents: spencer reid x fem!baureader, solving a criminal mystery, angst, slow burn

words: 7.3k

okay, i realize how incredibly long this is but that's just how i am, i have to stretch every scene to the limits. i'm sorry!!!" anyway, i hope you'll enjoy it <3

You were pulled out of bed at five in the morning.

 Just three hours after you’d finally managed to fall into a light, broken sleep. Maybe you hadn’t really been sleeping at all — just lying there with your eyes closed, half-aware? You weren’t sure. The exhaustion weighing on you suggested the latter. Yet you didn’t complain. As soon as you learned that another body had been found in that same cursed forest, it felt like you’d been plunged into an ice-cold bath. All that mattered now was reaching the crime scene as quickly as possible.

You and Spencer ended up in the same car with Hotch and Rossi. Although the drive took almost half an hour, it passed in the blink of an eye. None of you spoke; the tension was evident on each of your faces. You’d dressed more comfortably than the day before, opting for navy jeans and sturdier shoes better suited for walking in the forest. In the rush, you hadn’t changed out of your pajama shirt — you’d simply thrown on a black leather coat over it. You buttoned it up carefully so no one would notice the shirt featuring a duck holding a knife with the caption I have stability (ability to stab), easily the worst possible choice of clothes for examining a murder scene.

The next steps proceeded in a typical, meticulous way. Everything around was secured, and you examined the body, which was roughly in the same state of decomposition as the bodies of the city council members. The inflicted wounds also appeared to be similar. There was a missing head, but aside from that, there were relatively few injuries.

At sunrise, the whole team gathered near the cars. Derek leaned against one of them, and you all had sleepy, slightly puffy faces with dark circles under your eyes. JJ looked so good and put together that you found yourself wondering if she went to sleep fully dressed in her professional attire.

“The victim is a man with an unidentified identity, but there is a strong likelihood that this is the missing city councilman, Percy Donovan, who disappeared in the last few weeks.”  Hotch informed you all. “This trio of women, who were treated the most brutally, were the earliest victims, lying in this forest for about six weeks. The one found last night was likely killed around the same time as the other two city council members. It’s unclear why his body was left in a different location, but considering the relatively short distance, it might have been a matter of convenience for the perpetrator. He was unable to transport all three bodies at once, so he delivered the last one after some time. He discarded it closer to the road but concealed it more carefully. The time of their death is estimated to be around three weeks ago”

“Let’s analyze everything from the beginning,” Rossi suggested, raising both hands. “The unsub’s first victims were killed six weeks ago. They were three women: a teacher, a social worker, and…”

“A worker from the orphanage,” Reid recalled. 

“Then there’s a three-week gap, and three more bodies are hidden in the forest. This time, there were two men and one woman, all of whom were city council members. The only connection between all six victims is that their heads were severed. Don’t you think we might be dealing with a duo? That would explain the differences in brutality.”

“That’s one possibility,” Hotch agreed. “I asked Garcia to check for criminals or psychiatric patients who have been released recently, but she didn’t find anything noteworthy.”

The sheriff approached you, the same big man you’d seen before. Shock was written on his face; as a cop in such a small town, he likely rarely dealt with cases like this.

“I knew Percy,” he shared immediately. “I knew him very well. We sometimes went out to the bar together to play pool. He had some problems in his marriage; they often argued. When he disappeared, I thought he had just left because he needed some space…”

“We’re very sorry,” JJ said gently. “Yesterday, you mentioned that you know a lot about the people in this town. Could you provide us with more information about the victims? We’re trying to find any connections, if there are any.”

Before they stepped aside to discuss this, Reid raised a finger.

“Sheriff, do you think the offender had to know this forest well to choose to hide the bodies here? In these specific locations?”

Russell pondered the question.

“I don’t think so. In my opinion, it could have been anyone, and they didn’t necessarily have to be from here. I doubt he comes from this town; as I said, it’s mostly decent people.”

JJ led him a few steps away to begin their discussion. You and the rest of the team fell silent for a moment.

“One thing worries me,” Morgan said, furrowing his brow. “Okay, a lot of things worry me, but this one particularly. If there was roughly a three-week gap between the murders of these two groups of people, and the last bodies were found just three weeks ago…”

“That means the unsub could strike again at any moment,” you finished his thought, nervously clenching your hands into fists.

Everyone turned to look at you; you had just voiced a shared concern. Hotch stared into space for a moment, then nodded to himself as if coming to a decision. He spoke in his usual commanding tone.

“We need to take action. Morgan and Prentiss, you’ll meet with the families of the first three victims, the women, I mean. Rossi, you and JJ will go to the families of the other victims. Your job is to find out if there’s anything that could connect them. Y/N and Reid, your task will be to go to the forester’s lodge and gather information on whether anyone has encountered any suspicious individuals in this forest. I’ll head to the city hall to talk to the mayor.”

Everyone scattered, ready to tackle their tasks. You nodded at Reid and together you headed towards one of the cars, where you hesitated.

“Do you have a map of this town, or will we need to ask the sheriff where the ranger station is?” you asked, glancing back at the man still talking to JJ.

“I left it at the hotel, but it just so happens that I memorized the whole thing, so I know where we need to go. It’s not far at all.”

Your eyebrows shot up.

“You memorized the entire map?”

“I always do that when we’re working a case in an unfamiliar place,” he explained, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Memorizing an entire map, with all the roads and landmarks. Just an everyday activity.

You snorted and got into the car, an unmarked police vehicle, on the passenger side.

“We'll have to stop at a gas station,” you said, fastening your seatbelt.

“Why? The tank’s almost full.”

“Coffee.”

He opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it. You glanced at his profile as he, focused on driving, pulled off the shoulder onto the road, choosing a direction.

“You couldn’t sleep last night, huh?” 

You shrugged. You didn’t want to get into the backstory of your sleep issues with him, so you decided on a slightly embellished answer.

“I couldn’t fall asleep for a bit; it’s usually like that in new places. But then I slept like a baby, really. At least until Hotch woke us with that call before 5 a.m.”

“No, you didn’t. I woke up a few times, and your breathing suggested you weren’t sleeping. It was too shallow and irregular. Normally, when someone’s asleep, it looks different because their breathing engages the diaphragm muscles.”

Did he really just analyze your breathing and deduce you hadn’t been sleeping? You looked out the window, momentarily at a loss for words, before deciding to turn it into a joke.

“Reid, this is the creepiest thing I’ve heard in a while.”

“Really? It’s just basic human physiology. So, back to my question, which you decided to turn into a joke to avoid answering”

“Jesus Christ, Holy Mother of God, yes, I couldn’t sleep because I forgot my sleeping pills,  and I can’t get a wink without them. What’s it to you?”

Your outburst of irritation caught him off guard. You immediately regretted your unpleasant tone; he had always been so kind to you. Reid paused for a moment, cleared his throat, and calmly returned to the topic. 

“I figured that out after you were so upset last night. When you told me you forgot something. You know, you could have just asked me or someone else on the team. It just so happens that I always have Ambien on me. I don’t need it anymore, but I carry it just in case.”

You fell silent, not knowing how to respond. You felt doubly embarrassed, especially since his initial question wasn’t even attacking! It was just that you had been so closed off, pushing that barrier further and further away whenever someone showed even a hint of concern for you.

The car glided along the empty road, one of those that seemed to stretch on forever. Like an endlessly long carpet with a white stripe down the middle, unfurling as you drove. Surrounding it was the forest—the same one where you sought refuge yesterday to avoid answering Prentiss’s question about your brother. Your reticence was becoming burdensome, but you didn’t know how to deal with it. When you opened up, you felt vulnerable, as if you were at the mercy of someone else. You also hated pity. Your mom loved it. She relished the chance to burden random people waiting at the same bus stop with tales of how her husband didn’t love her and how her kids hated her, even though none of that was true. Talking to someone about yourself made you feel just like her.

As you drifted off in thought, filled with a sense of guilt, Reid spoke up again.

“I’ve noticed recently...”

He barely began the sentence before he cut it off. He didn’t continue, as if the wind had slipped in through the slightly open window, snatched his words, and whisked them away to some unknown place, never to return.

“What have you noticed?” you asked.

“Nothing. It doesn’t matter,” he replied, shaking his head.

“You can say it, whatever it is. I won’t be offended.”

Deep down, you were afraid his comment would hurt. Maybe he’d say, “Your inability to open up is just pathetic. And it’s not just me; the whole team thinks so. Though honestly, it’s probably better that you don’t say anything. None of us want to hear about it.” Just the thought of him saying something like that tightened your chest, and you went pale. It was a stark reminder of how much you feared what others thought of you. You knew Spencer would never say something like that—he might not always be socially adept, but cruel comments were not in his nature. What scared you more was the possibility that he could think that way about you. You were terrified that it might be true.

Meanwhile, Reid asked:

 “Do you like autumn?”

You let out a surprised laugh. “That’s what you’ve noticed lately? That I like autumn?”

“No,” he replied. “I’m asking if you like autumn.”

Your confusion left you momentarily speechless. You looked at him as if he were a math teacher back in school trying for the third time to explain what a logarithm actually was. That question distracted you from your earlier, unpleasant thoughts.

Looking at his slight smile, you answered. 

“I’m not a fan. I hate it, actually”

“Really?” 

“I don’t know why people love it so much. It’s cold, it makes our work harder. It rains, and you've seen the extent of decay those bodies had because of it. Again, it’s cold”

It seemed that your arguments didn’t resonate with Reid.

“You’re looking at it from a very practical standpoint. For our line of work, I agree, autumn can be terrible. But there’s something enchanting about it. The leaves. Reading in the evening while it’s raining outside is particularly enjoyable.”

“I personally prefer reading in the bright sun, on the beach, soaking up the rays. Without the risk of my hand falling off from the cold as soon as I pull it out from under the blanket to turn the page.”

He laughed.

“In less than twenty-four hours, I’ve learned more about you than I have in the past year,” he said. “That you have a brother, you definitely prefer summer over autumn, and you love Haruki Murakami’s books.”

“That’s all because we’re roommates now.”Wait, I’ve never told you I like Haruki Murakami!”

“I saw you reading his book yesterday. Kafka on the Shore.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I like him.”

“You read more than half of that book on the flight, hardly taking your eyes off it. You only paused when your brother called you. You were completely mesmerized, so I’m guessing you must’ve liked it.”

He was right; you had been completely absorbed in that novel. So much so that you didn’t even realize he had been watching you on the plane. Seizing the opportunity, you asked him for his interpretation of a certain part of the plot that seemed unclear to you. For the rest of the flight, you listened intently as he passionately shared his thoughts, surprised that someone could talk about a book with such enthusiasm.

The smiles faded from your faces as the car suddenly jolted. Concerned, you looked around for the cause and quickly figured out what had happened. Reid had veered off the main road and onto a forest path leading to a cabin. Due to the rain, it had turned into a muddy mess, making it difficult for the car’s wheels, ill-suited for such terrain, to push through.

“How much further it is?” you asked. ““Maybe it’d be better if we walked from here. We don’t want the car to get stuck” 

Spencer agreed with your suggestion. Your shoes sank into the mud as soon as you touched the ground. The weather that day was better than before; a gray layer of clouds hung overhead, but it wasn’t raining. The air around you felt pleasantly crisp and invigorating. You took a deep breath that tasted wonderful, energizing like coffee. Your companion cursed softly under his breath as his feet began to slip on the troublesome surface as well.

“So, do you still like autumn that much?” you couldn’t help but ask teasingly.

“I love it,” he assured you, in an exaggeratedly eager tone. But after taking just one step, he nearly fell over. “God dammit…!”

You burst into loud laughter and confidently moved ahead. You’d learned your lesson from the previous day and put on more comfortable shoes, which you were very grateful for. The ones you were wearing not only repelled water but also minimized the risk of tasting the mud.

There was just a straight path leading to the cabin, and after a moment, you spotted a wooden, wide building with a sloped roof on the horizon. It looked rugged, not like one of those places city folks rented for the weekend to feel connected to nature.

As you walked, you didn’t turn back, busy looking around. Behind you, Reid was probably struggling for his life on the slippery path.

You reached the cabin first. Instead of knocking right away, you decided to wait for your companion. Just as you were about to turn around and shout some motivating phrase to him, the door swung open on its own.

You came face to face with a young man who had a military hairstyle. It was worth noting that he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

He looked you up and down, nodding to himself.

“Lost, are you?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Or maybe it was just your imagination, but he seemed to be trying to adopt a slightly flirtatious tone. Behind him, from inside the house, a loud barking could be heard. “Ares, quiet!”

By the time he turned back to you, Reid had already caught up and pulled his badge from his pocket.

“We’re with the FBI, and we’d like to ask a few questions.”

“Alright, so you’re definitely not lost… But hang on a sec, let me see your badge too. You’re way too young to be in the FBI,” he said, eyeing Reid as well. “You both look too young.”

“And yet,” you replied, patiently reaching for your badge.

He nodded and held the door open for you with a slight flourish. He didn’t seem the least bit fazed that the FBI had shown up on his doorstep. You wondered if he’d act differently if, instead of you two, it had been Hotch and Morgan paying him a visit.

“Take it easy,” he said, nodding to the Doberman at his side. “He’s aggressive, I won’t lie. But as long as you don’t make any sudden moves, we should be good. Ares, off you go.”

Reid glanced at you with amusement, and the corners of your mouth twitched. The ranger’s doberman was… a puppy. Tiny, tail wagging eagerly, clearly thrilled to see you both.

"Are you here alone?" you asked, looking around for any sign of others. From what you knew, there were usually a few rangers stationed together.

"Yeah, I’m the only one responsible for this whole area." he replied, folding his arms over his hips, where his loose pants hung low. He hadn’t even bothered to put on a shirt.

He had this strange ability to take up way more space than his body actually needed, standing with his legs planted wide apart. He also tried to look down on everyone around him—though it didn’t quite work, since Reid was taller than him.

"We’re here to ask you a few questions," Reid informed him once again.

"I heard you the first time"

You definitely didn’t like the tone of his voice. The unpleasantness of it made him far less attractive in your eyes. That was just how you were; you were drawn to well-mannered men who didn’t feel the need to assert their masculinity at every turn.

"This is related to a six-fold murder, so I'd advise you to tone it down a bit when talking to the FBI” 

Reid's sharper tone created an immediate tension between the two of them. The ranger tilted his head to the side, his shoulders suddenly drooping.

“Wait, sixfold?”

The information about the last body found had not yet been made public, though it was surely only a matter of time. The sheriff seemed like a complete gossip.

"It was found last night, so be aware that this case is extremely serious. We need to know if you’ve encountered anyone suspicious while patrolling this area in the past six weeks. Actually, it would be best if you could list everyone you remember."

"Actually, it might be better if you asked for my name first. It’ll come in handy for the report."

"Oh, right." His comment threw you off your rhythm. You should have done that first. He smiled at you, and you felt a slight blush rise to your cheeks. It wasn't because of his charm but rather from being caught in an unprofessional moment.

That was enough for Reid to look at you with a judging expression.

His phone suddenly rang.

“It's Hotch,” he said, furrowing his brows. He briefly touched your elbow, and his gaze softened significantly compared to how he had been speaking to the ranger. “Can you handle this? It shouldn't take long.”

You nodded, and he stepped aside to take the call. The ranger extended his hand as if he was just welcoming you to his home.

By the way, the cabin seemed quite cozy, mainly with wooden furniture, a fireplace, and a fur rug. Two sets of doors led out of the main room, one to an open kitchen and the other presumably to a bathroom or bedroom. His dog happily circled around your legs, and you bent down to gently pet him.

“Do you want to sit down, agent? I thought you came here on foot.”

“I’ll stand. The car didn’t quite handle the road. We left it nearby.”

“Yeah, that happens a lot, especially after the rain. There’s no way a typical patrol car could get through that. But anyway, I’m James Rivas. What did you want to ask me? Who caught my attention over the past six weeks?”

He sighed, thinking.

“That’s a really tough question, considering I often forget and feed the dog twice in the same morning. But I do remember a few people. First of all, there was a certain couple…”

“A couple? Two men? Or maybe a woman and a man? Did they seem nervous when they saw you?”

“A couple, as in a guy and a girl. Now that I think about it, she looked about twelve, probably his daughter.”

Your enthusiasm waned a bit. One of your theories was that the murders were committed by a duo, but the people he described didn’t sound like the perpetrators of such acts at all. He mentioned a few more people, mostly dog walkers, who caught his attention for trivial reasons like a flashy scarf or a pretty face (when he spoke about a woman). Even though the information didn’t seem particularly useful at first glance, you wrote it down in the small notebook you had brought with you.

Who knows, it might come in handy?

Reid returned with a serious expression on his face. You immediately straightened up, fearing what he might say.

“Another body has been found.”

“What?” you nearly shouted. The ranger also tensed up, abandoning his relaxed, flirtatious attitude. “Seventh? Where?”

“At a pumpkin farm. Apparently, some teenagers stumbled upon it; there were a lot of people at the scene, and a little panic broke out. Hotch wants us all there. Have you finished?” He glanced at you and James.

You raised your notepad and nodded. The skin on your hands paled from how tightly you were gripping the item.

Together, you started toward the door. You wanted to turn to the ranger and thank him for his help, as it hadn't been as difficult to cooperate with him as you might have thought. At that moment, he stopped you from leaving with a hand gesture.

"To the pumpkin farm? You'll get there faster through the woods than on the main road, but your car won't make it there. I'll give you a ride in my SUV."

You looked questioningly at Reid. You were both eager to get to the scene of the body as quickly as possible. The offer sounded tempting, but not entirely safe. He immediately shook his head in refusal.

"We'll manage," he said to James.

"Seriously, come on," the man insisted.

Reid opened his mouth to refuse again when James suddenly stepped closer to you, reaching for something in his pants pocket. You took a step back, having learned from experience, while your friend moved one step forward in a defensive gesture.

However, the ranger had no bad intentions — it turned out he was going to hand you the car keys.

"You can drive," he said. He closed the keys in your fingers as if offering you some precious item, grabbing you with both hands in the process. You were in too much of a hurry to flinch. You nodded gratefully. He smiled. "Actually, you have to, I just drank a beer. Plus, I’m coming with you; someone has to navigate, and who better to do it than me?”

You agreed, and Reid sighed, clearly unhappy with how things were turning out. James hurriedly grabbed a shirt and led you behind the house, where his black Jeep Wrangler was parked.

Following his lead, you settled into the driver's seat, though it stressed you out a bit. Since getting your driver's license, you hadn't had many opportunities to drive; you preferred the subway or, lately, relying on Prentiss's kindness.

“Don’t worry,” the ranger laughed as you hesitantly set off in the direction he indicated. “Now…”

“Turn left,” they both said at the same time.

James looked surprised at Reid, who was sitting right behind you in the back seat.

“How do you know that?”

“I memorized the entire map of this town and the surrounding area,” Reid replied with a shrug.

“You did…what?”

You and Reid smiled at each other in the front mirror.

The mentioned farm resembled a place straight out of an autumn photoshoot, where a pregnant woman embraces her partner against a backdrop of pumpkins arranged on hay bales or something like that. People came to this place from bigger cities, buying overpriced tickets and spending the whole afternoon strolling among rural decorations and props, soaking in the small-town atmosphere. From what you learned from the forest ranger, they also had horses there.

You got out of the car as soon as you spotted Hotch standing by a table made of red planks. There was no sign of anyone else from your team around, so you assumed that thanks to the shortcut, you had arrived there first. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught sight of the sheriff’s car, several patrol cars, and a group of shaken people who must have made that traumatic discovery.

Among them was a certain teenage girl. You looked at her with pity; she would likely remember this for the rest of her life. The forest ranger walked off to speak with the sheriff, while you and Reid headed toward your boss.

“Good thing you got here so quickly,” he said, eyeing the black jeep warily. However, he didn’t ask any questions, likely too absorbed in the case to think about it. “They were found… just see for yourselves.”

You exchanged a worried glance with Spencer. Hearing such words, you could expect the worst. You held your breath and allowed yourself to be led to two pumpkins placed in a secluded spot next to the barn. All the others you passed were huge, perfectly shaped, and brightly colored. But in these two specific ones, holes had been made, as if someone wanted to place a lantern inside. Instead of candles, however, there were… human heads inside.

“Oh my God…” you whispered, taking a step back. You bumped into Reid, and dazed, you mumbled some apologies. However, your gaze remained fixed on Hotch. “Did… did this young girl find this?

He nodded. It was only after a moment that you felt a hand gently placed on your shoulder. You looked up to see Spencer’s face.

“Were the other parts of their bodies found?”

“Only the heads,” your boss replied in an unreadable tone. “Y/n, I’d like you to talk to this girl Not interrogate her, just talk.”

Despite being shaken, you nodded eagerly. You had always considered yourself one of the more sensitive ones in this field, better suited for making deep psychological analyses based on the childhood or life experiences of an unsub rather than the crime itself. Still, you had no choice but to deal with such sights daily; you had toughened up a bit, which couldn’t be said for this girl. You shook off the tension in your body, put on a composed expression, and made your way toward her. The people surrounding them, including the farm workers, stepped aside to let you pass.

“Hey,” you said as gently as you could. She was a blonde girl with such delicate beauty that she reminded you of a snowflake. Her bright eyelashes framed her cool-colored eyes, her pale complexion was almost flawless, and her light hair was braided. She looked to be about sixteen, wearing a white jacket and a powder-blue beret. “I’m Y/n. Can we step aside for a moment? We can sit down and wait for your parents to arrive…”

“I am her parent,” the sheriff replied, pointing to himself with his thumb, as if he thought you might have trouble understanding. It surprised you slightly. They looked completely different; he was huge with dark hair, while she was also very tall but petit. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed that JJ and Rossi had already arrived at the scene.

“Well, I still think your daughter should sit down for a moment. She’s very pale and has been through a huge shock. What’s your name?” you asked her.

Her lower lip trembled, she opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

"Charlotte," her father replied. "I need to talk to her myself first. What are you doing here at this hour? It’s barely noon, you should be in school. Skipping classes?!"

"What does that matter right now?" you snapped at him, angry at his lack of empathy towards his own daughter. Charlotte gave you a grateful look. You looked your boss in the eyes. "Now we’re both leaving, and you can think about whether that’s the right tone to use with someone who’s seen something like that..."

True to your words, you led her aside, wrapping your arm around her. You managed to find a secluded spot and sat down on one of the hay bales.

"My dad is pretty strict," the girl explained. "He cares more about my school than about me."

"My dad was exactly the same," you said, though it wasn’t true. Your father didn’t care about you or your education. He didn’t care about anything except work. You lied to make the girl feel like you understood her situation. “But school is the last thing you should be worrying about right now. How are you feeling?”

She shrugged. She had been sitting for about five minutes, and the color was slowly returning to her face.

“I’m… in shock. When I close my eyes, I see it right away, and… and I’m even afraid to blink. How can someone do something like that to another person?”

"I keep asking myself that question," you admitted.

"You're with the FBI, right?"

You nodded. Charlotte fell silent, staring at her hands.

"My dad’s right, I should be in school right now. I came here because I paint. I’m currently working on autumn-themed paintings for a school competition; I needed some inspiration..." The girl sobbed, the horrible sight must have flashed before her eyes.

You put your arm around her, and to distract her from it all, you asked about her passion, painting. She spoke to you in a quiet tone, telling you that she took up art after her mother’s death.

“After that, Dad shut himself off. He’s obsessed with rules, grades, my behavior, school attendance,” she scoffed, playing with her braid. “But he doesn’t even try to understand me, ever. The only person who understands me is…”

She trailed off, looking nervous.

“Someone special?” you suggested with a smile.

She shyly lifted the corners of her mouth.

“You could say that. Just don’t mention it to my dad…”

You made a key-turning gesture near your lips.

“Your secret is safe with me. Well, as long as you tell me a little about this Romeo of yours…”

The topic clearly cheered her up; she seemed less shaken.

“There’s not much to say. Dad would hate him. He’s his complete opposite.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, he is very different about the rules…”

This worried you. She seemed like such a polite, well-behaved girl, and you hoped she hadn’t fallen into the wrong crowd. You didn’t want to judge based on such limited information, but your intuition was speaking up again…

You were interrupted by Morgan’s arrival, calling you over for the team meeting. You said goodbye to Charlotte.

“If you need to talk about all this, I’ll be in town for the next few days,” you said, gently patting her shoulder. After a moment’s hesitation, you reached into your coat pocket for a notepad and quickly jotted down your phone number. You folded the note in half and offered it to the girl. You felt you had to show her some support, something she wouldn’t find from her parents. 

 Charlotte smiled at you with genuine gratitude — she seemed really nice, and you regretted that she had to see something like that. 

Arriving at the meeting point, you experienced a sudden shift in atmosphere, from light to serious and tense. You stood between Reid and Prentiss, waiting for what Hotch had to say.

Spencer glanced at you briefly, his eyes gentle, silently asking if everything was okay. You confirmed without words as well. This silent conversation felt almost amusing; without speaking, you both knew exactly what the other intended to say.

Emily's thin eyebrow shot up, but before she could say anything, Hotch spoke up.

“Morgan and Rossi are questioning the farm owner and the workers. They seem unhappy about the police presence, especially the FBI.”

You found it doubtful that these people had anything to do with the murders. Did they really risk hiding their heads at their workplace? In a movie — maybe. In reality—certainly not. And what could their motive be?

“JJ, we’ll need to issue a statement. Journalists are starting to gather, and we don’t want them spreading any misinformation. It’s important that we don’t give our unsub any nicknames. What did you learn from the victims’ families?”

One by one, everyone gave a brief report. You listened with bated breath, hoping for some vital information, but unfortunately, none of your team had discovered anything that could move the case forward. Finally, you summarized the ranger's testimony.

Prentiss looked like she was holding back an explosion. 

“What is all this about?” she finally burst out, throwing her hands up. “Why has the killer, or killers, suddenly changed the location where they’re dumping bodies?”

“Theoretically, we don’t know if they have,” Reid said. “Only heads were found on the farm; we don’t know what happened to the rest. Searches of the forest have just begun.”

“In any case, what’s the point of this charade? Does it thrill them to think they’re inflicting lifelong trauma on some random person?”

“Hotch, what’s next?” you asked, feeling a void in your mind.

“We’ll finish questioning the owner and his workers. Garcia is checking them out now. After that, we’ll wait for the identification of the newly found victims. Without that information, we can’t move forward. “

Your least favorite part of working on a case had arrived—idleness and waiting. Usually, that was when all your adrenaline would drain away, and your suppressed needs would strike back with double force. You were hungry, tired, had a headache, and needed a second coffee. Leaning your head back, exhausted, you suddenly felt someone watching you. The ranger was staring at you, leaning against the hood of his jeep. You signaled Spencer with a nod, and together, you approached him without much enthusiasm. You needed to head back to the ranger's cabin to retrieve the car you’d left there.

“Sick, isn’t it?” James asked, nodding toward the whole farm. “I can’t wrap my head around it. We’re heading back to mine now, right?”

“Just to pick up the car. I have one last question for you.”

You looked at your friend with curiosity, noticing a strange expression on his face, as if he’d suddenly connected some dots.

“In your opinion, as a ranger, would the killer need to know this forest well to dispose of the bodies in these specific locations?”

James hesitated before answering, looking Reid directly in the eye.

“Yes. I think so. It had to be someone who spends a lot of time here. This forest is huge — an outsider wouldn’t go that deep.”

Reid studied him closely. You frowned and walked back to the car. The three of you drove to the ranger’s cabin in complete silence. Fortunately, the police car was still parked exactly where you had left it.

“Will you drive?” Spencer asked, pulling his phone from his pocket. “I need to make a call.”

“Sure,” you replied, taking the keys from him. You got behind the wheel, casting him a curious sidelong glance, intrigued by what he was up to.

“Garcia? Have you finished checking out the farm owner and employees? Okay, but when you're done, could you also check someone out for me?” Spencer pulled the phone away from his ear, looking at you with a questioning expression. “What was the ranger’s last name?”

“You’re kidding,” you snorted. “James Rivas, but…”

“James Rivas,” he relayed to Penelope, gave her a quick goodbye, and ended the call.

Meanwhile, you had already merged onto the main road.

“Reid, it’s not him.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Intuition? Shaman, remember?”

“Well, your intuition isn’t exactly a reliable measure. It’s pretty easy to influence—by, say, sympathy.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Sympathy? The guy’s a jerk, even my intuition can tell.”

Your explanation didn’t seem to convince him at all. You stared at the road for a moment, tapping your nails on the steering wheel. Reid crossed his arms, avoiding looking in your direction. The ranger had clearly gotten under his skin. You hadn’t liked him either, but even so, you thought suspecting him was a waste of time. You weren’t even sure why. You were slowly beginning to form a possible image, a profile of this killer in your mind. It wasn’t worthy of being voiced ye t— too sparse and vague, even to you, with many essential pieces still missing. But it definitely didn’t fit James. Chaotic, you realized that much.

“Do you think if he were our unsub, he would have just answered your question like that? About whether the perpetrator had to know the forest? That alone made him a suspect!”

“His ego wouldn’t let him answer otherwise,” he scoffed at first, then turned serious. “Did you see his reaction when I mentioned finding the seventh body? He tensed up, like he was spooked.”

“Well, I was spooked too. We’ve got a seven-time murderer, a decapitator, on the loose.”

He sighed in resignation, seemingly deciding there was no point arguing with you about it. As you drove, you wondered if you should outright clarify that you weren’t defending James because you liked him or, heaven forbid, found him attractive. But surely Reid didn’t actually think that… right? Then again, you could never be certain what was going on in his mind. It was vast and complex, with thousands of branches reaching off in completely different directions. Impossible to decipher.

You drove in silence, sighing back and forth every so often, as if hoping that these pitiful sounds would eventually prompt the other to speak up or change the subject. At the gas station, he stepped out of the car, and you asked him to get you the largest coffee they had. When he returned, he surprised you by silently handing you a sandwich as well, reminding you just how hungry you actually were.

The rest of the day, you spent with the team back at the pumpkin farm. Garcia had uncovered a very interesting lead. Most of the workers were employed off the books, without contracts, which likely explained the farm owner’s strange behavior. He’d been afraid — rightly so — that it would come to light.

This forced you to take a closer look at the workers, considering them as potential unsubs. But somehow, none of it seemed to connect. A dead end.

J had already given a statement on TV, but word about the victims’ identities still hadn’t come through. Because of this, Hotch decided to let you head back to the hotel early, a small reward for having been dragged out of bed so early that morning.

When he said it, you and Reid exchanged a smile, forgetting your little disagreement. The topic of the ranger never came up again—after all, Penelope hadn’t found anything on him.

You returned to the hotel relatively early in the evening, though with the time of year, it was already completely dark outside. You were utterly exhausted. The fact that you were planning to collapse into bed in your jeans was probably the best proof of that. But just before you did, you remembered you hadn’t called Jeremy since the day before. You hesitated before dialing his number—being in different time zones, it was already very late for him. Then you recalled your brother’s sleep schedule. Back when you’d lived together, he’d often go to bed around the same time you were getting up.

“Have you been wearing that shirt all day?” Reid asked, amused, as you took off your long coat. He was, of course, referring to the shirt’s graphic — a duck armed with a knife.

A smile appeared on your face as you opened your mouth to respond, but then you saw something that rendered you speechless.

“Y/n?”

Exactly eight missed calls from your mother. It wasn’t that alarming — she sometimes had a flair for the dramatic and would call over something as trivial as a broken egg, even though you had made it clear that you didn’t want to maintain contact with her anymore. However, a chill ran down your spine at seeing one missed call from your father.

You stammered, “I’ll be right back,” and headed to the bathroom. Once you closed the door, you leaned against it and dialed your mother’s number. It felt like an eternity waiting for her to pick up. During that time, the gentle movement of your knees turned into a tremor so intense that you had to grasp onto something for support.

“Mom?” you asked when she picked up. “What’s—”

“Finally!” her sobbing came through the line. The sound hit you like a powerful shockwave, leaving you feeling dazed and suspended in a void. “Oh my God, why haven’t you answered your mother all day? Do you have any idea what I’m going through right now? How do I feel? I was the one who found him…

You shook your head, partly in confusion, partly in denial.

“And through all of this, no one, not even your dad had asked how you were feeling! Abandoned by two children, including you, who wouldn’t even answer her calls…”

“Mom,” you barely managed to squeeze out, feeling an unimaginable weight in your chest. “You found who? Where?”

Your mother suddenly began to berate you for the lack of contact, completely ignoring your two questions. She shifted from shattered sobs to pure rage, almost hysteria. She had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder for years, and she approached her treatment carelessly, often forgetting to take her medication. In the face of difficult situations, she reacted in an intense, complicated manner, chaotically swinging from one extreme emotion to another.

Though her broken voice indicated that she, too, needed help, you pulled the phone away from your ear. You couldn’t bear to listen to her, too frightened by the visions that assaulted you. You needed to find out what had happened, and she wasn’t able to give you that information. With a heart-wrenching pain in your chest, you hung up.

With a trembling hand, you barely managed to dial your father’s number.

part 3 coming soon!

tag list: @miriamnox @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @nightfullofparadox

oh and i have one question for you guys, how to connect two parts of a story with each other?? i'm new on tumblr

[feistypazzi]

FAMILY OF OURS

ONE SHOT FIC (EDITED)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

Disclaimer: This story never happened in real life situation just pure fiction. (Excuse the grammatical errors/Not proof read)

TW(?): Slight angst, Fluff, sexual content

Summary: Paige suggest to her wife to have a day for herself leaving the twin under her control and when Azzi returned home she saw the chaos that happened while she's out.

Paige offered to her wife a day for herself because ever since she retired from WNBA all she done is taking care of her until the father God in heaven blessed them with a two precious angels, their twin. After the day she gave birth to the twins their lives change forever, parenthood is hard as they expected, especially for azzi because she experience a postpartum after she delivered their little angels. Everyday is a challenge for both mothers yet they handling it so with the help of they mom's as well

How hilarious the look on Paige face was when Azzi is about to gave birth. She's the one who is nervous and anxious, walking back and forth in front of her wife who is currently in labour, as if she is the one who will delivered the baby. Meanwhile her wife, Azzi is just lying down on a hospital bed calm and relax.

"Babe calm down, Can you just relax yourself here next to me. You're making me feel dizzy" she command, Paige followed her and sit next to her, then she caressing her baby bump.

"Twins don't give mommy a hard time to deliver the both of you, okay?" She softly said directly to azzi's belly.

"I'm sure you'll be a good parent P" Azzi spoke, as she let out a sweet smile. Her wife looked up to her meeting her gaze.

"We hun, we'll be a great parents" she pressed a warm kiss to azzi's forehead and hugged her gently. Suddenly, Azzi feel a baby's kick.

"Ohh goshh, ohh" she whines, stroking her belly. Her eyes squeeze close and inhaling exhaling.

"Are they kickin'?" she asked with delight, placing her hand on the top of her wife's belly to feel the kicks. "Oh, You both excited to meet momma and mommy aren't you?" and the baby kicks again, the wifes let out a joyful giggles after.

Not long enough, Azzi successfully delivered two healthy bouncing babies, a boy and a girl. Paige can't hold her tears while in a delivery room when the nurse handed the first born to her, a baby girl.

"You look exactly just like mommy" she mumble, tears stream down to her cheeks. Then the second baby came, a baby boy. Paige showed their first born to her wife and place it next to her as the nurse handed the second born to her. "You look exactly just like momma" her heart is fulfilled with overjoyed. Azzi can't hold her tears as well once she heard the little cries from their twin. She couldn't believe that she just gave birth to a twin but she did anyways. She can't explain how her heart is about to explode with joy. "You did so great baby" Paige place a kiss on azzi's forehead after the delivery.

4 YEARS LATER~

Years already passed but for Paige and Azzi it feels like yesterday, they become a great parents showering the twins with love and patience. All the sleepless night and restless day taking care of the twin was worth it for them because seeing them happy makes them happy.

When Paige came home from basketball practice once she stepped in to their house, the twin will ran to onto her together with warm hugs and kisses, the tiredness she feel would magically disappear and when the twin stressing Azzi out yet they're the one who'll eliminate her stress as well, just hug and kisses it will disappear instantly. The wifes couldn't ask for more, they're contended on what they have and they're forever grateful for that.

Azzi leave the house with her wife's under control, the twin wants to come with their mommy but Paige persuade them not to, she promised them that she'll make pancakes for their breakfast, of course as a children who has still gullible mind they're convinced without any second thoughts.

"I'll take care here babe, don't worry" she spoke her hand wrapped around her wife's waist as she guide her to their door step.

"You sure?" Azzi ask facing her wife still unsure about the idea.

"For sure baby, Don't you trust me?" she asks pouting half joking.

Azzi let out a sigh, "Of course I trust you baby, but-" Paige cuts her off immediately. "And that's enough" her lips let out a silly smile. "I'm strong see" she move her the sleeve of her shirt and flexing her biceps.

Azzi shook her head playfully, "Nothing really change huh" she mock, "Anyways fine, fine but if you and the twins need something call me okay Hun?". Paige nods as her respond then calls out for the twin.

"Si! Mi! Mommy's leaving say goodbye" the twin rushed to their mothers running almost slip on the floor. "Ohh be careful"

"Take care mommy! we love you!" Si spoke with her tiny voice.

"Yes mommy, we love you!" Mi agreed. Azzi face the twin and they hugged and kiss her goodbye that made her heart jump with delight. Their mommy placed a kiss on both twin's cheeks.

"How about the momma?" Paige spoke pointing to her lips. Azzi raised her eyebrows making a face to her wife, "We're infront of the kids" she mumble.

"Si, Mi let's see who will the first to make it in the kitchen. Extra one pancakes for the winner" Si and Mi ran into the kitchen right away, leaving their mothers. Azzi slam her palm to her face shaking her head, "I can't believe you" her wife just shrugged her shoulder.

"Can I have my kiss now?" cocky smile on her face as she grabbed her wife's waist. Azzi can feel her cheeks turn red as she placed a kiss against to her wife's lips passionately. Paige bury her face on her wife's neck after, "Take care baby, I love you" she whispered.

She wrapped her arm around to Paige neck, "I love you most and the twin" and step back proceeding to their family car leaving her wife waving goodbye. And that's when the chaos started. At the time Azzi is totally gone Mi is running to her momma dragging her to the kitchen.

"Mommaaa!!" he yell with his tiny tinny voice. Paige just follow her son until he stopped on the kitchen. Her eyes widen seeing her Si playing with a flour while she's standing on the top of counter.

"Holy-" she cuts off her own words because it's not for the twin to hear. Si showed what she have done, scattered flour all over the counter table, floor and her. Since the day Si and Mi learn to walk on their own, the wifes can already identify the difference between them, Si is the naughty child that inherited her momma's mannerisms and Mi is the quiet child that inherited his mommy's mannerisms. Yet they don't care if their twin has difference as they grew up, they love them so much equally.

"Mommaa look I'm gonna help you" she proudly said giggling meanwhile Mi is just quiet standing next to Paige holding her hand. Paige was not mad, she's more concern because Si might slip and fall.

"Be careful baby" She hurried and pick up Si while shook off the flour to her face before something bad happens that will cause a WAR between her and her wife.

After cleaning up all the mess, she do let the twin helped her to cook for their breakfast not minding if it will be so messy. She just make most of the time with Si and Mi, nothing can really made her heart feel so affectionate except her children and wife. The three had a good bond together the kitchen is filled with cute giggles and laughter, Paige took some pictures of them while cooking and send it to her wife as a update.

WIFE 💗♾️🤞🏼

P: Hello wifey

P: Sent an Attachment (Adorable picture of three of them)

Wife: Awww my babies all grown up 💗🥺

Wife: How adorable, I miss y'all already hun

P: We miss you too here wife but for now just enjoy the day for yourself okay? Take care, We love youu! 💗💗

Wife: Yes Hun, I love y'all most! 💗💋

Subsequently, they finished their breakfast well. Paige proceeding to wash the dishes and the twin are now playing in a living room running on circle, their momma join them after washing playing hide and seek, with their toys. Anything what the twins wants to do as long as it's not dangerous, Paige is okay with it though they are making a mess all over their house but their momma just shrugged her shoulder. "They're just kids and wanna have fun" she thought watching Si and Mi letting out a adorable giggles.

Not until Mi slip on one of his toys fall facing the floor causing a tiny scratch to his forehead, Paige heart pounds and felt like the world stopped when she heard Mi cried. She immediately pick him up and stroke his forehead.

"Baby shh don't cry" hugging Mi to her arms trying to calm him down with Si next to them, cold sweats start to stream down to her forehead, she was so worried at that point.

"It will be okay Mi" she mumble, stroking her twin's forehead gently. Paige patted her head for doing such a great job as a big sister and place a kiss on both twin's forehead gleefully.

"Pain pain away!!" Si sing-sang then pressed a kiss on Mi's forehead too. Mi finally calms down, Paige let out a sigh of relief. She laid Mi on the couch for awhile and get the first aid kit to treat her second Born's forehead. Thankfully it's nothing serious it is just a tiny scratch and put a cute baby blue bondage on his forehead then kiss it, the twin hugged their momma after tightly that almost made Paige teary eyes feeling the warmth of her children.

*****

An hours later, it's nearly 6PM the twin are already in bed asleep peacefully yet their house still messy. Paige leave the twin to their bedroom and proceeding to the living room laying down on couch as she wait for her wife to come home. Her eyes almost half asleep when she heard the doorknob click and there she is her wife who look extra glowing walking down to their living room.

Paige get up immediately and ran to her wife with open arms, "I miss you wife" as she cling her arms around her wife like there's no tomorrow and her wife do the same.

"I miss y'all as well hun" cupping her wife's pouting face then kissed her lips. Paige brush smoothly aside a strand of azzi's hair to her ear, "You look extra gorgeous baby" she mutter Azzi rolled her eyes to hide her blush but failed her wife still noticed it.

"I guess the twins will have a baby brother or sister tonight" cocky smile on her face Azzi pinched her side instantly laughing. "Shut up" in a silly tone.

The wifes time was disrupted after Azzi saw the twin walk out from their bedroom while rubbing their eyes.

"Mommy?" they spoke simultaneously in a tiny sleepy voice. Azzi rushed to them to give them a warm tight hug, "Ohh my babies I miss you two".

"We miss you too mommy" Si spoke excitedly Azzi looked at her.

"We do mommy so much" Mi added, as Azzi looked at him she noticed the bondage on her forehead she feel her nerve wrack.

"What happened to you forehead Mi?" she ask but Mi pointed to her momma who's currently standing crossed arms behind her wife, Azzi look at her wife with deadly eyes. Paige can feel her wife's mood shifted and her heart beats so really fast.

She start to explain about what happened, "U-uhm e-earlier w-when-" stuttering.

"Mi, Si, Babies can you both go back to your room for awhile because Mommy and momma will talk for minutes" the twin nods as a respond and return to their room right away.

"Paige Bueckers - Fudd!" she get up facing her wife eyes throwing dagger. "Care to explain what happened here while I'm gone?" she mutter emphatically.

Paige is sweating cold already and hands are shaking. "M-mi e-earlier a-accidentally slip on t-the floor" she respond her voice is shaky.

"Are you not looking after them?" she raised her forehead frown.

"O-of course i-i do, b-but a-accident happens a-and it's j-just an small scratch B-babe" she explained while inhaling so deeply, playing with the end of her shirt to calm herself a little.

"It's better be just a scratch Bueckers." then turned her back to Paige leaving her frightened and followed the twins to their room.

Paige let out a deep sigh, heart still pounding and tears start to build up in the corner of her eyes. She took shower first and change her clothes to sleepwear then lay down to their bed after, facing the opposite side of their bed. She's kinda upset for what happened yet she overthink that maybe it is really her fault, she feel her heart ache a little, and tear dropped to her pillow.

Azzi enter to their room slowly not making any noise, she do the same thing as her wife does before she crawled next to her wife. She heard her wife sobs silently, "Baby I am so sorry if I got mad at you" she whispered apologetically and slip her arm to Paige side. "I-it's o-okay, it's my fault anyways I didn't look after them well" she murmur loud enough for her wife to hear.

"Baby can you look at me please, hm?" she pleaded softly, Paige wiped her tears before facing her wife but she bury her face against azzi's neck to avoid her gaze. "Wife, hyss, Look I'm sorry for how I reacted, I knew already what really happened and I knew as well that you did a really great job today taking care of the twin, I'm so proud of you"

Paige looked up at her wife. "And how'd you know?" she asked. "The twin told me" she replied a genuine smile on her face, "They told me everything, how the three of you made pancakes, play, and how you take care to the both of them" stroking her wife's Blondie hair, "Especially Mi, he told me how you rushed to pick her up when he slipped on the floor and treat him right away" she added wiping Paige's tears.

"They do?" Azzi nodded as a respond. Paige curled up to her wife tightly bury her face again to her neck and Azzi do the same and placing a kiss on her upset wife's head.

"You forgive me baby?" she spoke in a calm tone.

"No" she mouthed, "Unless-" Azzi cuts her off immediately because her wife's mood shifted and there's now a cocky smile on her face azzi knew already what is the next word that will came out to her wife's lips, "The kids will hear us" she make a face but Paige didn't give a budge and attack her wife with hungry kisses then topped her, azzi's body made a reaction feeling her wife's warm kisses trailing down to her neck and let out a silent moan Paige shushed her right away. "Shush they will hear us" and continue what she's doing down to her azzi's chest leaving marks on her way.

Azzi throw her head on the sheet and pushing her wife deeper. "P-paige p-please i-i can't wait more any l-longer-" she breathlessly moan silently making Paige smirk, blondie helped her to take her shirt off for more skin access as she inhaling azzi's scent. "Whatever you want sweetheart" then slip her hand and insert her two finger deeply to her wife's wet core. Pulling in and out faster and deeper making Azzi moan louder but she she cover her mouth to prevent the noise coming from her wife.

Meanwhile Paige is getting deeper and deeper her wife felt her stomach curling, "P-p i-i'm a-about to cum baby" she's almost out of breath, "Just cum baby, you're doing good, yeah" as she goes faster. Azzi grips to Paige's head tighten sign that she cum already, gasping for air. Paige pull out her hand out of her wife bottom sleep wear and place a gentle kiss on her lips.

They both end up with each other arm after the passionate time, breathlessly, Paige stroking her wife's hair, "You're forgiven baby" she teased. Azzi rolled her eyes half joking, "Shut up".

"I love you more wife" grinning and proud for what she just had done to her wife.

"I love you most" as they shared a warm genuine kiss again before falling deeply to each other's embrace.

_________________________________________

Ps: A fluff pazzi fic for y'all before I drop the updated version of the series fic stay tuned! Thankyou for reading babes appreciate y'all and feel free for request/feedbacks! Lovelotsss! 💗💗💗

(Special crdt for the twin's name Sierra and Miles to that one pazzi fic writer, please tagged her iyk her 💗)

[xxchumanixx]

Hey can you make a part two of the Grey daughter part where the whole team finds out about them when she comes to drop off lunch for Grey and Tim and they starts to tease Tim about it

My Man

(sequel to 'Not just any man')

Tim Bradford x Grey!reader

Warnings/Tags: fluff, a little angst I guess? But only if you squint real hard Word count: 1.265 Authors Note: Hello love, thanks for the request! Hope you'll like it! Enjoy!

You hated your mom sometimes.

When she asked about Tim's favorite food, you should have known something was up.

Or, rather, she was up to something.

You told her, nonetheless, being sent off with two paper bags not long after, told to bring your dad and Tim lunch.

Tim's favorite.

She did it on purpose, trying to have you show your affection for him more openly, around his colleagues. They were already having their own suspicions and rumors about you two, you just hadn't noticed, yet.

So, when you walked into the mid wilshire department, carrying two hot bags in your hands, you first made your way to your dad. He was in his office, blinds up so you could see that he was hunched over some paperwork, glasses on his nose.

Not bothering to knock, you let yourself in, his gaze lifting as he heard the door. "Honey." he greeted you, removing the glasses. "What are you doing here?"

Holding up the bags you walked over, placing one in front of him. "Mom cooked." you explained, cocking a brow. "Wanted to know what's Tim's favorite food and sent me on the way to deliver some."

His head tilted, sending you a pointed look and you sighed. "I know, I know." you murmured, arms flailing at your sides to emphasize your words. "I couldn't stop her."

He shook his head, suspiciously sniffing at the bag. His hands wrapped around it, taking a hold of the plastic container inside. "Tell your mom thank you." he told you, sending you a grateful smile and you nodded.

"Will do."

Then you turned back around, walking back out to find Tim.

Grey took another sniff of the contents in the bag, humming to himself in surprise. Whatever Bradford's favorite food was, it definitely smelled good - not that he would have admitted it out loud, though.

You asked Smitty where Tim was and he directed you into the direction of the detectives, where you spotted him.

He was looking good in his uniform, ass hugged deliciously, as you made your way straight towards him.

"Oh my god." Angela gasped, causing Nyla's gaze to follow hers. "No way." she muttered, eyes as wide as Angela's. "Isn't this Grey's daughter? Why is she- Oh!" she cut herself off, as realization hit her.

"Bradford and her are a thing!"

Tim held himself from cursing under his breath, instead sending you a smile, even though it was forced. He hadn't missed the way Lopez and Harper perked up at your arrival.

You had basically made a beeline for him, not leaving any room for imagination.

"I'm bringing you lunch." you told him, returning the smile, holding up the paper bag in your hand. "And for my dad. Mom insisted that I'd bring you some, too."

He cocked a brow, huffing slightly. "Of course she did."

You chuckled, handing him the bag. "Made your favorite." you told him, sending him a wink. His eyes closed as he inhaled deeply, chuckling as they opened again. "Of course she did." he repeated himself, looking inside the bag.

He would have been lying if he said it didn't smell good.

It smelled fucking delicious.

"I'm guessing she wants the others to know." you spoke, biting your lip. "She wants to show you off as her daughter's boyfriend or something."

One of his brows lifted again, and you shrugged your shoulders. "Don't ask me." you gave back, shaking your head with a smile. "Anyways, I just wanted to bring you the food and see you."

He smiled a smile of his own, softened around the edges. "Thank you." he said, head tilting downwards the slightest bit. "And your mother."

You nodded, suppressing the urge to kiss him. You would have plenty of time to kiss him after his shift.

"I'm gonna go, then." you told him, and he nodded. "See you later." he gave back, hesitating, as he took a step closer, voice lowering to almost a whisper. "I love you."

Grinning, you shook your head. "I love you too." Then you turned around and left, but not without looking back at him.

Lucy plopped up at Tim's side almost immediately after you left, tearing him from his dreamy state. She looked at him knowingly, biting her lip to hide the smile that was threatening to take over.

"What's that look?" he wanted to know, brows furrowed as he tilted his head at her. "Oh, nothing." she quipped, smirking up at him. "That's so sweet of her to bring you lunch. I wonder why, though."

She had to be kidding, Tim thought.

Of course, she knew why you were bringing him lunch. She just wanted to hear it out of his mouth, admit that he was dating Grey's daughter.

It wasn't that he was ashamed of you - quite the opposite, really. He would have shouted it into the open world if he could, but he didn't want anyone to think that he was just using you, or you him.

Your dad was a cop, so of course you had to find someone with a badge as well, right?

Bullshit.

He would have willingly taken it up with anyone, if they just so much as dared to think like this about you.

Before he could respond, Angela and Nyla joined them, causing Tim to groan inwardly.

He was screwed.

"What was that?" Angela wanted to know, failing to hide her grin. She was happy for him, but she also wanted to tease him a bit.

Tim rolled his eyes, mocking her grin with one of his own in pure sarcasm. "What do you mean?" he retorted, clutching the bag to his chest subconsciously.

Nyla started to laugh, sending him a pointed look. "Please." she made, brows raised. "We all know what that was. Bradford is knocking Grey's daughter."

His face grew pale at her choice of words, instinctively falling into defense mode. "I'm not knocking her or anything." he told her, voice sharp as she bit down on a grin.

Of course she didn't mean it like that, but what other way to get him to talk other than this?

Angela must have picked up on her train of thought, whilst Lucy stood by and watched the scene unfold.

"Yeah, Tim, why don't you tell us what's going on between you and mini Grey?" Angela wanted to know, tilting her head with her arms crossed over her chest.

Tim winced at the mini Grey, shaking his head as he slowly came to terms with having to tell to them. They wouldn't stop bothering him, if he didn't.

"Y/N and I are in a relationship." he announced, looking between them only to find knowing smirks. "And you all knew already. Why make me spill it then?"

Lucy chuckled, her and Angela sharing a look. "Because you're grumpy and refuse to tell us about your private life." she explained, looking up at him.

He bit his cheek, swallowing the anger flaring up. "And this is exactly why I refuse to!" he retorted, shaking his head. "Because you all are fucking teases and wouldn't leave me in peace."

Angela scoffed, still smiling though.

"We're all happy for you, Bradford." she told him, her hand brushing over his arm. "We're just noisy assbutts, that want to snoop in your private life. Don't mind us, we'll just be sitting in the back, eating popcorn."

Tim sighed, shaking his head again. "Wouldn't have expected anything different." he returned with a huff. Nyla smirked, hand on her hips.

"And that's exactly why you love us."

Tag List

@newobsessionweekly @laheysfilm

@nachofriess @augustvandyne @RookieTrek

@dhunhdchrih

[glorismorningstar]

THE LION CHRONICLES

Pairings: Lute x f!reader, Carmilla Carmine x f! situationship!reader, fatherfigure!Alastor x f!reader

Summary: Now that Alastor's back, Y/N joins him at the Overlord meeting, where more information about the recent extermination is revealed. Later, her relationship with Carmilla has an interesting development.

Warnings: WLW, casual relationship, unrequited love, pain, heartbreak, lesbian smut (cw - fingering, oral, mommy kink, strap on, tail pulling), angst, violence, death, homophobia

A/N: I apologise in advance for everything, this part was so deep and interesting to write, contains a lot of character development and each part will contain more drama than the last *cough* episode 6 *cough cough*

| PART 2 // PART 3 // PART 4 |

˚₊‧ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

˚₊‧ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"How much higher do you want it?" I ask as my tail wraps around the side of the ladder for balance, hands holding up the banner we made together.

"A little bit more... there,” Charlie says and got up from the other side of the ladder to hammer it down as Vaggie holds the ladder still. "That looks perfect! Aah! I'm so excited that Sir Pentious is staying at the hotel!"

"Um, Pentious was just trying to take over the city with his weird steampunk bullshit a few days ago." Vaggie points out.

"Well, I haven't seen him try any of that in here." Just as Charlie finishes the sentence, Pentious comes in with his Egg Bois, wheeling in something that looks like a cannon, but... fancier. Huh.

"What the Hell is that?”

"Oh, hello, purple female. It's my new invention, the SkinFlayer 11.000!" He hisses proudly, tipping his hat as the eggs chase each other around the room. One of them begins climbing up my tail and I yelp, then chuckled quietly and let him play with the fluffy tuft, swishing it from side to side. “I'm really looking forward to shooting the other residents."

"What? Why?"

"Everyone is being too nice. Obviously it must be a lie. I can sense they are planning to kill me, but when? How? I must be prepared!" Ah, yeah, trust issues. That's a bitch. Been there, currently doing it. “Ooh, the new parts of my machine are here."

I turn to look at the doorway and beam, it was Clara and Odette, Carmilla's daughters. But as expected, they're delivering weapons to Pentious.

Damn it.

"Y/N!"

"Hello, girls." I smile and trot over to give each of them a hug. I look at the weapons and at Pentious before directing my gaze back to them with a nervous chuckle, “What's going on here?"

"We got a delivery at the Hazbin Hotel. We assumed you'd know something about it." Clara speaks as she unloads the boxes, while Odette asks for the signature. I run a hand over my face and sigh, this is exactly what I was supposed to stop from happening.

"Yeah, so did I." I sigh, burying a hand in my mane and looking at Vaggie with an apologetic grimace.

"Thank you for your business. Enjoy your Carmine purchase."

"Carmine? As in Carmilla Carmine? You're buying parts from an Overlord?"

"So, Y/N, are you coming to the meeting today?" Clara asks me. Since Alastor is back, I don't know how much he'd need my help, but then again, I wouldn't mind. It's not like I have a lot to do right now anyway.

"Uh, yeah, yeah, I am. Tell your mother I said hi."

As soon as they leave, I redirect my attention to the Egg Bois playing with my tail. Apparently some others joined in while I was talking to Carmilla's daughters and began following me everywhere. I giggle and wag my tail for them to chase, leaping around the room and being extra careful not to squish them. One of them catches my tail and I smile, swishing it to curl around my hip so that I can look at the Egg properly. "Hello, little one. Do you have a name?”

"It's Frank, ma'am." The little creature says in a silly, goofy voice, which makes me giggle and shake his hand with my finger.

"My name is Y/N.” I introduce myself with a smile, eyes sparkling with cuteness overload when he grabs my finger.

"Hello, Y/N!"

"You absolutely cannot build weapons in this Hotel. No one wants to kill you. People are being nice to you because they want you to feel welcome!" Vaggie lectures with a raised finger. She gives off mom energy, I bet she and Charlie would make great parents one day.

Both Sir Pentious and I turn to look at the other members of the group: Husk is chugging on a bottle of booze in the bar and peeks at the serpent, then extends his middle finger; Angel Dust does the same, and Nifty stops her dusting to look in our direction with a creepy look that terrifies me to my very soul. And don't get me started on Alastor.

"Mhm, I have my doubts." Pentious hisses.

"Well, it's true. You have to trust us." Trust is a tricky thing. It's not easy to do so again after misplacing it so many times. Surprisingly, the one that taught me that was Sera. She first betrayed my trust when she agreed to punish Lucifer; she's the one in charge, the one that's supposed to preach forgiveness and generosity, yet she destroyed the life of a man that grew up with me - with us. The second time was when she approved the extermination. She'd be willing to murder human souls, men, women, children, all in an attempt to protect us? From what? And worse, she's the reason Lute puts herself in such danger by coming down here every year.

I don't know why I hide from her every extermination day. To be fair, I'm hiding

from them, not her. Adam, that frat boy of a commander, Celeste, that coward that resorted to homophobia when her tiny peanut brain couldn't come up with a comeback, and of course, all of her posse that tore my wings off and threw me down here... ugh, stop. I don't even have the courage to face my girlfriend now. She's an exorcist angel, she murders the damned for a living. What would she think of me if the sweet, (somewhat) well behaved girl she fell in love with became... this? A sinner.

I think that's why I never contacted Lucifer or Vaggie when I first got here. Lucifer is my childhood best friend, my partner-in-crime, and when he fell, I was far beyond devastated. I didn't know what I'd do without him, he's almost like my brother. We'd sneak out of the palace past curfew and get in trouble all the time. I tried everything to keep him from falling and I failed. I just don't think I'd have the courage to face him. And it's the same with Vaggie. We used to be friends when she first joined the army and got pretty close, and then I lost her, too. I ended up coming in contact with her when Alastor dragged me here, but I was still scared to death.

"Hey, Y/N, are you joining us for trust exercises today?" Charlie asks with a grin and slings an arm around my shoulder, which brings a smile to my face. She's Lucifer's daughter. My dearest friend's daughter. I'm so proud of her.

"As much as I'd like to solve my trust issues, I have a meeting to attend, dear.” I reply and ruffle her hair affectionately, chuckling softly and fixing my black and purple bow tie before walking upstairs to go get Alastor and leave.

˚₊‧ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Rosie and the other Overlords are already there when Alastor, Zestial and I get to the meeting room. The first thing I do is lock eyes with Carmilla: there she stands, at the head of the table and with her daughters on either side of her. She flashes me a small smile from across the room, which I reciprocate and also give her a small wave. She chuckles quietly and returns the gesture, the affectionate glint in her eyes making my cheeks go pink as my ears pin back against my head in shyness. I smile at her once more before looking for a seat. I was hoping to sit next to Alastor, as usual, but he and Rosie must have lots of catching up to do, so I leave them be and opt for the other side of the table. The first chairs next to the head of the table are her daughters’, so I leave Clara her seat and begin to pull out the chair beside her. That's when I feel a big hand on my shoulder and immediately recognize it as Carmilla, her touches always feel like a wider than usual span of warmth. My ears perk up at the contact and at the sound of her angelic steel ballet slippers clicking on the floor and I smile at her once again. The Overlord rests her other hand on a fancier chair to the right of her own spot and offers, “You can sit here if you want.”

There are only two chairs like these in the room, one on either side of her. The left one is normally occupied by Zestial, with whom she's really close, and she's offering me the other seat. Me. She wants me to sit with her and her family. My heart swells and my pupils soften even further, now looking like the sweetest kitten ever. “Really?”

“Mhm. Come, corazón, we're about to begin.” She replies quietly and gently pulls me along, letting me sit on the chair beside her as she prepares to start the meeting. While our situationship isn't some big secret, she doesn't like public displays of affection very much. She says she's afraid of making me a target and wants to protect me - the irony of my secret draws out bitterness from me. Regardless, her habit of calling me by my term of endearment in her native language fails to falter, which is why she kept her voice down while talking to me.

“Welcome, Hell sovereign Overlords.” Carmilla begins as I take my seat, silencing the quiet chatter of the other Overlords. The soft and familiar metal clicking of her ballet slippers soothes me, my ears twitching towards the sound each time she takes a step. “I've invited you all here because you represent the controlling powers of our city. Together, you own millions of souls.”

I watch her with a relatively neutral expression from beside her, curious eyes veiling the silent admiration underneath. I don't know what's wrong with me sometimes, she's wonderful. I've struggled to connect with her in the past outside of sexual encounters, and I have no idea why. It's not even her issue, it's mine. I'd never want a relationship that's just physical, it's outside of my comfort zone… but then again, so is being with someone like this. Physical, yes, but the emotional side of our relationship is just hard for me. I guess I was so convinced I'd spend eternity with Lute for more than thirty years that I struggle with the fact that it won't come true. I know that the other day she was about to ask me to be her girlfriend before we got interrupted, but subconsciously, a part of me was almost… relieved she didn't? Ugh, what is wrong with me?

“Alastor?” The call of his name snaps me out of my train of thought, attention shifting to my father figure as my ears perk up once again. I don't have parents. My father is technically God because he created me, but I've never met him, and while Sera raised me and was sort of a maternal figure to me, she's my older sister - with whom I have numerous issues - I was never able to make that strong of a bond with her as I did with Emily. So I guess that's why I'm so attached to Alastor and Rosie.

“Yes, I know, I've been absent some time. I'm sure you've all been wondering.” He replies and I roll my eyes with fondness. I know for sure he was trying to look mysterious by planting Carmilla the opportunity to ask questions only to give her a vague answer. The poor dear.

“Not really. But welcome back in any case.” The small angry radio noises almost draw a snicker from me. He looks so annoyed right now. Poor guy, she could have humored him, at least. 

With a snap of her fingers, Odette hands her a clipboard and she turns on the presentation as Carmilla keeps speaking. “This year's extermination was brutal, far more even than years past. We have assessed that about 16% of the population was lost. With the angelic legions now returning twice as quickly, I think it prudent we-”

I jump in my seat for a split second when the door slams open and I roll my eyes at the obnoxious, thickly accented voice chattering on the phone, suppressing an annoyed growl. 

Oh, fuck me.

It's Velvette. She appears to be on the phone with one of her dear, dear colleagues - who are technically supposed to be here, for the record. “I've got it handled, Vox. Are you doubting me? Really? Me? That's what I thought.”

I hate to say it, but out of the three Vees, she's the most responsible. No, less worse would be a better suited definition. Between a porn director, the host of a video podcast that brainwashes people into doing his bidding and a fun-sized influencer, I guess I'd have to go with the latter. But that doesn't make her any less annoying. “Yes, I know. They're all a joke.”

The annoyance and contempt on the three Carmines’ faces is mirrored in my own as well as Zestial's. My ears pin back against my head at the insult, not for myself, but for the others. She's like a fussy child. And Carmilla less than deserves this bullshit at her own meeting. “Thank you, V. See you soon. Kisses, darling.”

I smell lesbian.

“Nice of you to join us, Velvette. Will your… colleagues be joining?” The sincerity in her tone is completely lost and with reason. I can sense it in the way she emphasizes the word colleagues and how the deprecation she feels is written all over her face, regardless of how much she tries to appear professional.

Oh, say no, say no, say no…

“No. They have better shit to do than to listen to an old windbag who thinks she's tough shit. I'm here to represent.” And so it begins. While Carmilla only narrows her eyes at the jab, I'm not that graceful when my loved ones are offended. My ears draw back and my tail sways behind me as I bare my teeth, pupils slitting while a soft growl rumbles from my throat. It's barely noticeable, but not to someone right beside me. 

“Charming.” She mutters as she turns around, taking advantage of the fact that the table is tall enough to conceal her hands and brushing the back of her fingers along my arm in a gentle, soothing caress, which brings a flutter to my stomach as my posture relaxes. My ears and tail return to their usual position and my pupils soften once again, but the protective pout on my lips remains. No one fucks with my loved ones.

“So, as I was saying, we need to discuss-” Carmilla begins once again, but is interrupted by Velvette waving her hand once again. Ugh. “Yes?”

“On the subject of discussion…” she begins, then pulls something from out of nowhere and throws it on the table, golden splashes splattering on the surface.

It's an exorcist's head.

While a collective gasp rises from the group, a shuddering exhale falls from my parted lips as my eyes land on the severed head of the angel, ears drooping and eyes wide with terror. Exorcists… they can die? Oh, no, no, no, no… what about Lute? Is she safe? Who did this? How did they do this? 

Wait, I know that mask. 

She was a member of Celeste's posse.

One of Celeste's buddies was murdered? 

I remember them. Celeste is a sergeant in the exorcist army, above the other soldiers but below Lute. The rest of her posse is only made of soldiers and they're all kinds of trouble, but one of their worst faults is homophobia. 

“Do you take medicine for homosexuality?” 

“What kind of a Seraph are you, tempted by something so unholy?”

“You and Lute have been getting really close lately.”

“It's just some trend, it's not real. You're just pretending.”

“I wonder what you call the lieutenant when you're alone…” 

The very thought makes my skin crawl. One time, Lute started a fight with them because they wouldn't stop insulting me. Luckily, Adam was smart enough to break it up, which I only think he did because Lute was involved, otherwise he would have been thrilled. Lute ended up with a broken wing while Celeste had multiple bruises and a broken nose. No one had ever defended me that fiercely before.

“Where did you get this?” Carmilla isn't nearly as appalled as I thought she would be. She looks somewhere between surprised and frustrated, yet at the same time neither. I can't tell what she's thinking right now, what she's doing. Her posture looks more tense than before, her eyes narrowed and her white irises smaller, more slitted. Her daughters appear far more surprised, but not as much as I expected two young adults to be either. Did I miss something?

“We found it during extermination day. If these holy rollers can be killed, the game has changed. We can take the fight to them.” Absolutely not. Declaring war on the Heavens is about the dumbest idea I can possibly think of, not only because I want to protect my family and loved ones, but because this happened once before, and it's the reason the extermination even exists. Well, that and that man child Adam and Sera with her power and her lack of moral compass. “The boys and I have come up with a full assault plan-”

Her suggestions are interrupted by Zestial and his aggressive slurping on that cup of tea. The sound, annoying but not as much as Velvette's voice, drags on for a few seconds as the room falls silent. The Overlord then puts the cup down on the saucer and interweaves his hands together, then speaks, “If it be true thee and thy colleagues desire to war with such meager proof, thou art far more foolish than I be thought.”

“Meager proof? It's a dead fucking exorcist. I'd say that's pretty fucking definitive.” She scoffs. It's good to see that Zestial and I are on the same page, all I need to do is get the others on our side, too. “You going blind, old man?”

“We know not how this perished, mayhaps t'was not by a demon's hand at all. If we rush to war without knowing, mightn't they purge all of Hell for daring an uprising?” 

“I agree with Zestial. If I recall correctly, the very reason the Heavens approved the yearly exorcism is to punish the population of Hell for attempting a coup d'etat. This can only make things worse.” 

The soft muttering of agreement that rises from the room is my greatest victory of the day. I think of Sera and what loads she bears on her own, regardless of how angry I am at her, I think of young, naive little Emily and how she still thinks that Heaven is perfect, I think of Lute and her safety and her happiness, despite believing that she's probably already moved on. I wouldn't blame her if she has, it's been twenty seven years, but her wellbeing will always be my priority.

My eyes flicker to Carmilla and now I'm sure something's up. She hasn't pitched in with any opinion on this, she didn't look shaken in the slightest when the other Overlord revealed the severed head, and now she looks like she's hiding something. Her eyes are squinted and she's looking to the side with a small pout on her lips, likely lost in her thoughts. Is there a secret afoot? When she meets my gaze, I look at her with soft, gentle eyes and make a soft quizzical noise just loud enough for her to hear, something between a grunt and a purr. What surprises me most, however, is how a flash of guilt appears in her eyes before she schools her expression once again and adverts her eyes from me. It was her, wasn't she? I'm not angry at her for killing the angel, because I'm sure she has a reasonable explanation for that. She's not the type to act on impulse or violence unless it's a last resort. But it just bothers me a bit that she didn't talk to me about this - not that I'm in a position to judge, anyway - but I was hoping she'd trust me with something like this.

My eyes flit back to Velvette just in time to notice the look on her face when she sees Carmilla acting odd, and that's exactly what makes me tense up with protectivity again. “Oh, I get it. So grandpa and the scaredy cat are too pussy to fight, so I guess there's no point, right?”

Then she gets up in Zestial's face to attack him, which annoys me even further. And why does she have to step on the table? She might be small, but that's so rude. “What's the matter, fossil? Too senile to make a real power grab for-”

♪ You better show some respect 

Check your behavior 

No one speaks to Zestial that way ♪

Whoa. 

Carmilla has never snapped once in the entire time I've known her. I'd say it's not a good look on her but I'd be completely lying if I did, because she looks so unbelievably attractive. Oh, my God, how did I ever pull a woman like her? She's just so… ugh. She's strong and dominant and gorgeous. I want to fling myself into the sun right now and I'm pretty sure I'm blushing. I'm having a lesbian panic in the middle of the most serious meeting of my life and the small familiar tingle between my legs isn't helping much either. Okay, this is not good. Alright, do something normal. I cross my legs to shift my position while trying to soothe some of the heat between my thighs by subtly squeezing them together, then rub my jaw with my hand to cover up the soft pink color rushing to my cheeks.

♪ Did you expect us

To sit back and take your 

Insolent, brazen display? ♪

I don't even pretend I'm paying attention to what Velvette is saying, because why would I listen to some British chippy when I can daydream about my girlfriend? The way she defends me and Zestial makes her look so hot. She has that determined pout and that protective glare in her scarlet eyes… I swear that sometimes it's like she doesn't even know how gorgeous she is. Somehow, our first kiss comes to mind.

˚₊‧ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

This meeting was longer than expected. I've been sitting in this chair for almost two hours and my ass is square. I get up and lean back against the back support of the chair, my vertebrae cracking with a satisfying pop. I hear her soft chuckle and my ears perk up at the sound, so gentle and brief yet meaningful to my ears. The other Overlords already left, it's just the two of us and I have to put my paperwork in order because it was a little disorganized today. “Do you need help with that?”

“Oh, no, that's okay. Don't trouble yourself.” I say with a casual wave of the hand and a small smile, endeared by her kindness. She's sweet, I like that. 

“Ah, it's no trouble.” Carmilla replies, moving to stand beside me as she joins me in fumbling with the messy paper sheets. She's pretty close to me, and she's actually like eight feet tall which is so hot and only serves to thicken the tension simmering between us. My ears go flat against my head every time my tiny hands brush against her bigger ones and sparks shoot up my body and heart. I haven't felt like this in a long, long while. It's almost been thirty years, yet I'm still grieving a life I'm never going to have with a woman I'm never going to see again. I've dated Lute for so long, long enough to still own the engagement ring I bought her before I fell. It's damn time I move on, I bet she already has years ago.

“Here.” My thoughts are interrupted when she hands me half the handful of papers. Oh, thank god. 

“Oh- thank you.” I reply and smile softly at her, tail wagging behind me as I take the papers and rest them atop the other half of the pile. The silence is almost deafening, begging to be broken as our eyes meet once again. The glow of her ruby sclerae has me entranced for a few moment, my own pupils dilating with awe and attraction as my ears pin back against my head once again. She looks so pretty right now.

I swallow thickly and clear my throat, wussing out as I scratch the back of my neck and point to the doorway and take a few nervous steps forward, “I should- um-” For fuck's sake, why don't I want to be with her? What's wrong with me? I know I'm sexually attracted to her, but it can't be just that, can it? I'm incapable of having purely physical relationships. I do feel affection for her, I genuinely do, but it's not as… strong as I would have hoped. Even so, this is the most attracted I've been to someone in the last twenty-seven years. I hear the metal clinking of her shoes and her hand around my wrist stops me. “Y/N, hang on.” 

“Hmm?”

“Would it…” she begins, pausing for a moment to collect her thoughts. The fact that she might have doubts, too, comforts me greatly. It doesn't have to be a serious thing so fast, right? “Would it be okay if I kissed you?”

She's asking me for consent. That makes my stomach flutter with butterflies. I look up at her with puppy eyes and nod, ears drawing back in fluster. “Yeah. Yeah, it would.”

In account of our height difference, I get on my tip toes and she tilts her head down, hand cupping my face before she gently locks lips with me. The kiss is soft, tentative, and I can sense she hasn't done this in a while either. Since she has two daughters and a company, she probably doesn't have much time for a relationship, which is cool because to be honest, casual is the best I can do right now. My tail swishes up to rest on her waist and I feel the shiver that runs up her spine when the fluffy brown tuft brushes against her lower back. When we pull back, our cheeks are flushed and her eyes are still closed for a second longer than mine. “That was nice.”

“Yeah… it was.” 

There's a moment of pause where we're just looking in each other's eyes, and then in a split second, like magnets attracting each other with unbelievable force, we lunge at each other until our lips collide, this time more aggressively as our tongues slide against each other and a few soft noises escape both of us. 

˚₊‧ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

♪ You and the Vees are inane and uninformed 

Smug wannabes who don't need when you've been warned ♪

Her voice pulls me from my thoughts once again and my focus zeroes back in on the meeting, ears once again pulling back at how beautiful she looks. I love how the black and white strands of hair flop and curl over her forehead like that. It looks so cute.

♪ Oops, did I strike a nerve? 

‘Cause when I brought out the angel's head

Couldn't help but observe

That your wrinkled face was turning red ♪

The way Velvette keeps attacking Carmilla like that makes my blood boil. Does she have any idea what kind of allegation this is - regardless of whether or not it's true? It's really grave to accuse someone of murdering an angel, and an Overlord no less. I hate the way she's getting under her skin. I see how her teeth are gritted and her nails dig into the table, the way her glare is piercing and frustrated, how her body almost twitches. It makes my ears droop with sadness, yet they pull back immediately when Velvette starts getting closer. My posture tenses and my tail stiffens with each step forward she takes, teeth baring as well as my pupils slit once again.

♪ And why are you avoiding war? 

That's what the guns you sell are for

Thanks to my being respectless 

One thing I'm starting to suspect is

You know why this angel's headless

Do you have a disclosure? ♪

♪ This meeting's over! ♪

While the two are standing nose to nose, the rest of the Overlords and I are just giving dead stares and grimaces, the pause giving way to an awkward silence as my eyes seem unable to break off from Carmilla, who has genuinely never looked so hot before. Okay, stop it. Not the time. “Hmm, fine. Safe travel back to the nursing home, fuckers. Kiss my ass.”

“What the hell? We literally just got here.”

“Mother?” Odette utters softly, and Carmilla gestures for us to follow her in response. 

The three of us follow her to her office and the girls sit on the two chairs in front of her desk while I lean against the wall beside the windows and the coffee table, watching with a small frown as Carmilla mutters something in Spanish and pours herself a drink, but then ends up drinking from the bottle. I rest a hand on her arm and look at her with big puppy eyes, noticing how she seems to relax a bit under my touch, and a weak smile appears on her face. “You okay?”

“Fine.” She replies softly and caresses my cheek with her hand for a second before letting it drop to her side, but we both know that she's not fine. As a rattling sound that we recognize as Zestial makes us turn our heads to the door, watching him come into the room. 

“Carmilla, what troubles thou? Losing thy composure is unlike thee.” 

“It's nothing, Zestial, really.” 

“The felled angel… t'was by thy hand, was it not?”

“Let's not talk about it.” I'm looking at her intently enough to see the same flicker of guilt that passed through her eyes when it was brought up in the meeting and I wordlessly questioned her about it. Whether it's guilt for murdering a soul or keeping this from Zestial and I, I'm not sure, but I don't get why she'd keep this to herself. She could have told me, I would have helped her.

“Mom… maybe they should know.” Clara says gently, which makes my ears twitch in her direction. The three of them know what happened, but we don't.

“Nobody should know!” Carmilla says, slamming her palms on the desk and taking her seat. Whatever happened, it sounds like it's something that's taking quite a toll on her. My ears droop at the thought. She doesn't have to go through it all on her own, she's got us. “I did what I had to do. I'm not discussing this.”

I want to go over there and comfort her, I really do, but maybe I should let them have a moment. They're a family, after all, and had she not invited me in, I would have either stayed outside or gone back to the hotel. 

♪ What weighs on your soul, old friend? 

I implore you to share the load

If it was thou who slew the angel

Why not let your strength be known? ♪

I'm not sure why I'm frustrated with her keeping this from me. I have no right to be, anyway, and for a series of reasons. First off, I'm keeping a gigantic secret from her myself, most definitely bigger than hers. And second, we have a more casual relationship, we're not even girlfriends yet, I can't really expect her to be comfortable sharing this with me. But I guess I'm upset I didn't know sooner because this is about my home, my loved ones. This is a risk to them, and I'd give anything for them to be safe.

♪ I always thought 

That I would keep blood off my face

But when that thing attacked

I had to act

To cross that line and keep them safe ♪

She killed in self defense. That's completely reasonable. She killed to protect her daughters. But they were out on extermination day alone? Why didn't they call me for help? I would have gone down there in the chaos if it meant protecting them. I would have risked being found out if it meant protecting them. But one thing I dislike is how angels are dehumanized here. It's like we're animals to them, which from their point of view is fair, but not all angels are like that. The exorcists might be, but not all of them. Not all of us.

♪ But if anyone knew

Then all of hell would rise to war

And who's to say who'd survive the fray? 

I might lose the ones I was killing for ♪

♪ So I

I'll be your keeper

Do whatever it takes

I'll make the mistakes

I'll keep you safe and keep this secret ♪

The way she hugs her daughters, the way they look up at her with affection and gratitude, it makes my heart warm as a smile comes to my lips. And the fact that she lifts her head to look at me for a moment during that last sentence makes me feel so cared for, even just for a second.

˚₊‧ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

It doesn't take long for us to find refuge in her room, all alone and under the cozy lighting of the evening. Because the girls are out for the night, Carmilla seems to feel much more loose and free with her movements and actions, testified by how she pulls me in for a kiss milliseconds after I close the door behind us. My hands fly to her cheeks and I get on my tiptoes to reciprocate the kiss better, squeaking in surprise when she picks me up and carries me to the bed. She breaks the kiss and sets me down on the mattress, then sits beside me and kicks off her ballet slippers. I do the same with my own shoes and crawl to sit behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist and giving her a gentle squeeze as I litter kisses on her bare shoulders. I can feel the tension leaving her body when I hug her, then nuzzle my nose into the crook of her neck and give it a gentle bite before trailing kisses up the side of her neck and under her ear, using my tail to tease her by looping it around her side and tickling her chin with the tuft. “You need some help distracting yourself, cielo?”

“Mhm, is that okay?” She replies softly, hands undoing the neatly tied up hair to let it down. The sweet scent of her perfume and shampoo almost makes me dizzy as the black and white waterfall cascades beside me, nose nuzzling into the soft fluffy hair as I inhale its smell with a sigh. 

“Of course it's okay. Just lie down for me, yeah? I'll take care of you, hermosa.” I purr as she obeys and lies back on the bed for me. My terms of endearment for her used to be in English before I asked her to teach me some in Spanish. I knew a few already, but I wanted her to tell me which ones she likes, and after I gained more confidence with the words, I started calling her those - and a few of my own as well.

I crawl on top of her and pull her in for another kiss, hands roaming up and down her sides before beginning to fiddle with the buttons on her shirt. My lips trail down her jaw, neck and collarbone as I undo the last button without looking, relying only on familiarity and basking in the soft sighs of pleasure that she lets out at my soft kissing and nipping. I lift her shirt over her head and smile down at her, connecting our lips once more as my hands gently cup her breasts. She gasps softly into my mouth at the contact and I feel her chest rising and falling under my touch, her breaths soft and slowly increasing in speed. I break the kiss to attach my lips to her nipple and swirl my tongue around it before lapping at it, relishing in the soft moans that escape her mouth. Her hands rest at the base of my neck as her head leans back against the pillow, the warmth of her touch giving me the urge to pleasure her right. The touch of her hands on either side of my neck feels familiar, it reminds me of-

No, don't you fucking dare.

I open my eyes to meet her ruby ones and focus on her face, contorting with pleasure when I switch my mouth to her other breast. “Mhm- ahh, Y/N…” 

Sliding between her spread legs, I make a trail of kisses down her stomach until I reach the waistband of her spiked skirt, then pull it down her legs along with her black pantyhose. The sight of the glistening precum between her legs makes me shiver, pupils dilating with hunger before I delve my tongue into her folds, tail stiffening at the taste. My ears twitch at the wonderful sound of the sharper moan that falls from her lips at the pleasure and her fingers tangle into my mane, tugging and ruffling at the golden tuft as she grinds her pussy on my face to look for further stimulation. Her back arches off the mattress when I wrap my lips around her sensitive clit and gently suck on it, her louder mewls sending waves of arousal to my pulsating core. “Oh, fuck… oh, that's good, amor, don't stop…”

I'm not even planning to. 

To make the sensations even more intense, I tease a finger to her entrance before sliding it inside, stomach flipping as her tight walls clench around my digit. She moans my name with a gasp, squirming on the bed as her hand reaches for mine and clasps it tightly. I remember how Lute started doing that once she got more comfortable, letting the roughness and passion give say to more tender moments once in a while. 

No, wait, what am I doing? 

Stop. Now. 

Don't do that. It can never end well. 

I stick another digit inside her and push both of them deeper, the pads of my fingers hitting the spongy spot that makes her body arch as she lets out a loud cry of blissful pleasure and her fingers tighten in my mane. “I'm almost there, almost- ah, fuck…!”

To help her get there, I piston my fingers inside her with more force and let go of her hand to rub circles on her clit, giving it a gentle smack and watching as she comes undone. The way her hand claws at the bed sheets, the arch of her back, her face contorted with white-hot pleasure as her moaning turns slightly higher in pitch. 

As soon as she relaxes on the bed, I crawl up to her and kiss her on the lips, then leave gentle kisses on her temple and cheek, soft purrs escaping me as my hand brushes away the hair sticking to her forehead. “Better, mi ninfa?”

She smiles at me and chuckles softly, nodding as she wraps her arms around me and brushes my mane back into place with her fingers, “Much better. But now it's your turn, come here.”

“Hey, come on, you don't have to. You had a long day, just have some rest.” I coo, kissing her forehead and caressing her cheek. She must be tired out from the meeting and the stress and all. Or maybe we should stop before I do or say something stupid and fuck this up.

“I'm not tired, I can take another round.” She replies and sits up on her elbows, looking at me with a little smirk. I know that face, she's up to something. She's not at all shy when it comes to trying new things in bed, but as it turns out, it's something I've tried before. Her hand reaches into her drawer for something that I assume is a toy but when I see it, my ears and tail perk up in recognition. Is that a strap? “Do you wanna try this?”

The first time I tried this was with Lute, and pretty early on in our relationship. She'd fuck me with it as often as she could, she'd always put aside a bit of time every day just to rail me, and man, did we get noise complaints from her neighbors. “Yeah, why not?”

She smiles and gives me a quick peck on the lips, then we switch places and she starts putting on the strap while I undo my bow tie and take off the rest of my clothes. Once I'm laid out on the bed and bare before her, she lies on top of me and bends down to capture my lips in a passionate kiss while she teases the tip to my entrance. The familiar sensation draws a small gasp from me, letting out a softer moan as she starts to push it further inside. More moans and babbles fall from my lips at the familiarity of being half-filled like this, panting and whimpering out, “M- More… please, more- ahh…”

Carmilla chuckles and rests a hand on my lower stomach for leverage as she bottoms out, pausing to wait for my go ahead. Shit, I forgot how good this feels. I give her a weak nod and let my head lull back against the pillow, eyes fluttering shut as I wrap my legs around her and lock my ankles on her lower back. My head becomes a bit fuzzy with the intense sensations that are only enhanced when she snaps her hips forward and back before bottoming out again, setting a slow and gentle pace. A string of moans, whines and curses spills from my lips as my hands grip the bed sheets tightly, a bead of sweat trickling down my temple, “Please… please, harder… mommy, please…”

The word makes her stop for a moment, my confused eyes meeting her lust-blown ones before I realize what I just called her.

Damn it.

“What did you just call me?”

“Mommy- mmph!”

Before I can even finish speaking, she pulls out and manhandles me onto my stomach, this time intruding my pussy with much more haste and aggressively pounding me from behind. I've never seen her like this, so animalistic, so rough. Her hands gripping my hips, the sound of our skin slapping together, the tip of the plastic dick hitting just the right spot each time with flawless precision, it all makes them blur together. The mental image of her porcelain skin and her snowy white hair bouncing above her shoulders, her golden eyes flashing with desire and adoration, the warmth of her body, muscular and delicate at the same time intrudes my mind at the best yet worst of times and it's too clear to get it out. It's her flawless hips and her calloused hands gripping me when she fucks me, it's her wings unfurling and flapping with the effort, it's her lips leaving hickeys on my shoulder when I cry tears of overstimulation. And with an unexpected rough pull of my tail, a high-pitched moan is ripped from my throat as the orgasm washes over me like a tidal wave and I cry out,

“Lute!”

˚₊‧ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

God, what the hell did I just do?!

Lute.

I said Lute.

I cried out another woman's name during sex.

“Carmilla, wait-” I begin as I button up my shirt with haste, following her out into the hall of the mansion and reaching out to touch her arm. I knew there was nothing I could say to make her feel better, but I had to try.

"Don't." She warns, hurt etched across her face, which made me retract my hand, ears drooping with resignation. It breaks my heart to see her like this. Damn it, I screwed this up forever. How could I have been so dumb? “I've always known you had issues, but if you were in love with someone else, why didn't you end things with me?"

"I- I didn't even know, I-” I sigh mid-sentence, tears stinging my eyes. How would I even explain this to her? “Look, it's... complicated. I used to date this person 30 years ago, and now she thinks I'm dead. I just- I saw her by accident last week, and it just came crashing back."

"She thinks you're what? I don't understand...” she squints her eyes, hands on her hips as she gazes at me with bewilderment. I can't tell this to her, it's too risky.

"It's really complicated, just drop it." I say and turn away for a moment, taking a few steps down the hallway. I can't tell her, what's the point anyway? You can't change the past. It's not going to change anything, and most definitely not for the better. It's going to kill our relationship. No, no, I can't lose another person. She's the only one that affirms me and is there for me at any moment of need. And I just hurt her feelings.

Carmilla grabs my wrist to stop me, crimson eyes flashing with heartbreak, bafflement and something akin to anger. I don't blame her, I never could, to be honest. I'd hate me, too. "Y/ N, you just called me another woman's name while we were having sex. I deserve to know about her."

"It's better for the both of us if you don't know."

"Y/N, just talk to me!"

"No!" I swiftly turn around and snap at her, ripping my hand from her grip. A soft slicing noise and a pang of pain drags across the back of my hand and I cry out, covering the wound with my other hand while my entire face pales.

Oh, shit.

My blood.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no, fuck, no, this cannot be happening to me!

It's over, the relationship is definitely over now.

Carmilla gasps and looks at the angelic blades on the wall, the distress in her eyes mellowing into concern. That sends a stab of guilt in my heart. She's angry with me but she still cares about me enough to worry when I'm in pain. God, she's going to loathe me if she sees. She reaches her big, soft hand out and murmurs a gentle, "Let me see.”

"No, it's fine. I'm fine." I flinch back like a startled cub and hold my hand close to my chest, terrified of her seeing the golden blood. I hate this. I hate this so, so, so, so much.

"Y/N, that's a dangerous weapon. Let me see the wound." She presses, gently gripping my forearm and trying to pry it away from my chest, to which I apply resistance and take a few wobbly steps back as my tail tucks between my legs. She can't know, she just can't. She'll turn away from me forever. She wouldn't be wrong in doing so, but I would be shattered if she did.

"No, please don't."

"Y/N-"

She pulls my hand from my chest and her scarlet eyes land on the golden liquid cascading down my hand, beautiful face morphing into an expression I hate with every fiber of my being. Pain, confusion, betrayal, fear. The way her eyes drop, the way her eyebrows crease, the way her lips part with shock. The color drains from my skin and my eyes fill with tears, choosing to stay silent for now. Her mouth opens and closes repeatedly, she has no idea what to say. And what can she say? What do you say when the person you're dating lies about where they come from?

I stifle a sob and wait for her to say something, anything. What is there to say? I might not be able to take this much longer. 

God, I just want to vanish right now. My legs, arms and body tremble violently as I struggle to make eye contact with her, shifting the muscles in my back to wrap my wings around myself... except I don't have wings anymore. "You... you're an angel...?"

"I used to be." I reply, sniffing softly and roughly wiping the tears from my eyes, angry at myself for letting them fall, for not watching myself with the weapon, for letting Lute's name slip.

"You're no exorcist. You can't even touch a weapon." She thinks aloud, slightly shaky from the shock. I don't want to tell her more about my past, but am I really in the position to ask her for favors? I lied to her, I broke her heart, I didn't treat her right, I never did. This is less than fair to her. "What are you, then? Archangel?"

"Seraph." I sigh, ears drooping as I look up at her like a cub that's been kicked, but not to try to sway her or get my way. I don't even know what my way would be. To be honest, I'm just hoping she won't leave, but at this point, even that seems like too much to ask for.

When did things get so complicated?

A breath of disbelief puffs from her lips and she runs a hand through her hair, trying to make sense of the situation. I can't even begin to imagine the thoughts running through her head right now, the questions she must have, the pain she must be in. "That glow you have, how you're never around after extermination day... those six... bumps on your back...”

I sniff and look to the side in shame, shrinking myself into my shoulders as if to hide myself from her. I tried to protect my family, I tried to protect the love of my life, my philtatē, and failed so horribly. I got my wings torn off my back, I got ruined for it. A Seraph whose family didn't even know where she was. But she thinks I'm a bad angel. An evil one that just cares about herself.

“And Lute... as in Adam's second-in-command Lute?" She asks, tears beading up in the corners of her eyes as she came to so many realizations. My ears go flat against my head as I force myself to look her in the eyes. It's the least she deserves. "You dated the lieutenant of the exorcist army?"

"Yeah... yeah, that's her.” I breathe, brushing the tears off my face and forcing myself to come to terms with it. The connection I had with Lute is unlike anything I've had in more than four billion years. The things I'd do to make her happy, to keep her safe and well. I'd give anything to be able to spend the rest of my life with her and give her anything that would make her happy... but it's not the life we're meant to have. And because of some stupid dream I built up in my head that's destined to go unfulfilled, I hurt a person that actually wants me and cares about me. I took her for granted and hurt her feelings.

"Were you ever going to tell me about all this?" She asks as tears bead up in the corners of her eyes. Why did I have to go and make her face look like that?

"Yes! Of course I was..."

"When?"

“…”

"..?"

"Um..."

"Ugh! I can't believe you!" She groans and whips around to walk down the hallway and I dash to follow after her, reflexively reaching out for her wrist, but then I stop and let my hand drop to my side. She doesn't want me to touch her.

“You want to talk about keeping secrets? What about the exorcist you killed?” I reply, my own frustrations bleeding through the argument as my ears draw back. I'm completely in the wrong and I know it, but the stubborn part of me can't help but want to argue with her. Good going, dipshit.

“Oh, please, don't even pretend you care about us. I saw the look on your face when you saw the angel's head. I know you recognized her, and I know you only care because you're selfish!” She yells back, pointing a finger to my chest, and glaring down at me with a venom that makes my stomach churn, but the accusation makes me so much angrier. 

Selfish? I severed my bond with my older sister in an attempt to protect Lucifer and then lost it altogether when I tried to clean up her mess. I tried to do the right thing and protect my baby sister, to protect the woman I love from this crackpot idea that all sinners should die, and instead I lose everything I ever cared about. She doesn't truly know what selfish means if she's got the gall to call me that. “Selfish?! Is that what you think?!”

“Yes, that's precisely what I think!”

I take a few steps closer to her to stand almost a breath away, close enough to speak right in her face, and grit out, “If I were truly as selfish and petty as you think, I would have been grateful to see that bitch's head on your table, because her and her buddies are the reason I couldn't show my face anywhere near the army for being queer. That woman held me down while the other ones ripped out my wings. They're homophobic assholes who deserve to die, but I wasn't thinking of them, I was thinking about my family. I have people I'd die for, too - because I did - so don't lecture me about selfishness and secrecy when you don't know anything about me and especially when you did the exact same thing.”

I don't like talking about these things, in fact I hate to do so, and I can't believe that the first time I'm opening up to her is to win an argument. While I was defending myself, I didn't even realize when tears started streaming down my face, but I can feel my cheeks wetting now. I hate this so much. How did I even get in this situation in the first place? It could be so much simpler if I'd just done so many things differently. But you can't change the past.

“You're right. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that.” She seems to have deflated a lot, despite her posture still being tense. She genuinely regrets calling me selfish, I can see it in her eyes, but she's still really angry with me, and I honestly don't blame her. “But that still doesn't justify the fact that you called me another woman's name. If I'm not your person, that's fine, but you shouldn't have led me on like that!”

"Carmilla, listen, no one hates me more than I do right now-"

"Are you so sure about that?"

I grimace and my ears go flat against my head. That stings, but I had it coming. The way she turns around with crossed arms and looks down at me with that sneer of resentment, that quirked eyebrow and that expression of disgust, I never thought it would be directed at me. On second thought, she probably didn't either.

"You're right. I'm completely in the wrong, and I'm not trying to justify myself. No one hates me more than I do except for you. I wanted to tell you, I honestly did, but I was scared of this. I was scared you'd hate me and push me away. I was hung up on my dumb feelings and didn't take you seriously when you were the only one to care about me - and I know I have no right to say this, but I care about you, too - and I'm so, so, so sorry for doing this to you." I want to comfort her so much, to wipe her tears and reassure her that everything would be alright, but even if she'd ever let me touch her again, it wouldn't be true. It's far from alright. So instead I settle for asking the question I'm petrified of knowing the answer to. "Is there anything I can do to salvage this?"

Carmilla pauses for a few seconds - the longest eternity I've ever experienced in my pre-creational existence - and sighs, running a hand down her face to wipe her tears as her expression mellows back into the more raw, real one she had before. The sight makes my heart crumble to pieces: the way her eyes are so full of pain, how her cheeks glisten with her tears. And I'm the cause of it. I'm the reason.

"No."

[nameless-ken]

Silent Confessions, Loud Masks - Billy Hargrove x Reader Series

I'm so excited about my brand new series! Not going to lie this first chapter was difficult for me to write. I have a serious battle with the dreaded delete button!

Anyways, hope you all enjoy this first chapter. It truly means a lot to me how excited you have been for this series <3 Comment below to be added to the taglist.

(Please reblog!!!)

Happy reading!

Word Count: 4.3K

Warnings: mostly angst with some slight rude remarks/bullying

Introduction to the series here!

Masterlist

(had this song in my head while writing this chapter)

In the tumultuous whirlwind of your teenage existence, embarking on your final year of high school, you've recently become aware of a singular truth: put full trust into the future that stretches far beyond the grasp of your present moment. Amidst the unexpected certainties that await, there's one you never anticipated – Billy Hargrove.

Billy reigns as the new king of Hawkins High, his “coronation” following the departure of Steve "The Hair" Harrington. He embodies the archetype of a manic attention-seeker, parading through the halls with a rotating carousel of girls, each week presenting a fresh face to the crowded hallways. It's a spectacle that leaves you utterly perplexed, unable to fathom the allure that draws countless girls into his orbit, only to be summarily discarded days later.

Thankfully, you've managed to maintain a safe distance from Billy and his band of lunatics, skillfully navigating the school corridors to avoid any unwanted encounters. While you share a few classes with his entourage, you've strategically positioned yourself in the front row, creating a buffer zone that shields you from their antics.

However, fate has a penchant for upheaval, as evidenced by your first detention – a consequence of arriving late to homeroom on three separate occasions. As you begrudgingly endure the mind-numbing 30-minute sentence after school, Robin, your loquacious best friend, offers her trademark blend of sympathy and sarcasm.

“They seriously gave you a detention for that? Couldn’t you pull the ‘I’m a straight A student who has never gotten in trouble before, please help dear little me this one time’ on them?” 

“Sadly no. I definitely tried to get out of it but they’ve been cracking down on a bunch of seniors for a couple weeks now.” 

“I'll wait up for you after band practice.” Robin slams her locker shut. 

“Thanks. See you later.” You turn to go down the opposite hallway than her. 

“Have fun troublemaker.” Robin pokes fun at your new “status” and you give her the finger back jokingly before you both wave and disappear down your own paths.

With a sigh, you resign yourself to the monotony of detention, selecting a seat near the window to alleviate the stifling atmosphere of confinement. The rules plastered on the board, NO FOOD. NO TALKING. STAY IN YOUR SEAT, serve as a constant reminder of the school’s misguided attempts at discipline.

You roll your eyes at the obnoxious nature of this situation. Why do schools think detention is ever going to work? You are put in a room for a certain amount of time with other delinquents. If anything you’re setting up a scenario for more trouble to happen. 

You pull out the current book you're reading, ignoring all the rest of the students who walk in. 

“Alright, welcome to detention. I have quite a lot of work to finish so I will be checking in periodically. When it’s your time to leave per your detention slip, come see me in my classroom and I’ll sign you out. Please respect the rules.” Mr. Thomson, the junior science teacher turned detention overseer, delivers a perfunctory address before retreating to his sanctuary, leaving the delinquent assembly to their own devices. 

Amidst the murmurs of discontent, Billy's name resonates like a discordant note, signaling the unwelcome intrusion of Hawkins High's reigning sovereign.

“Are we gonna flake out again Billy?” It didn’t even cross your mind about the possibility of being stuck in the same room as him.

“Can’t. I’ve skipped so many that they want to try and expel me.” 

“That'd be hardcore to see.” 

“Not to my dad it wouldn’t. Besides, it's not that bad. We have quite the sight sitting up there in the left corner today.” 

As Billy and his cohorts encroach upon your solitude, you bury your nose in your book in a feeble attempt to shield yourself from their presence. 

“Let’s have some fun.” You turn another page as footsteps echo towards you, stopping in front of your occupance. “I don’t believe we’ve ever met.” 

You don’t give him the time of day in reality but in your head, you’re fighting with the embarrassment and attention he’s solely giving you right now. Billy's charisma knows no bounds, his toothy grin and smug demeanor penetrate your defenses with effortless ease.

“I’m Billy but you may already know that. What’s your name, little mouse?” Billy rests his hands face down on your desk, leaning in so his face is parallel with yours. 

“Such a quiet thing.” Ignoring his advances proves to be an exercise in futility as Billy's persistent pestering chips away at your resolve, culminating in a daring theft of your cherished book. Yet, you refuse to grant him the satisfaction of a response, maintaining a stoic facade despite the numerous emotions raging beneath the surface.

“It’s always the quiet ones you have to look out for.” His friend to the right chimes in. 

“There’s some ways I can think of to change that.” You look up, narrow eyes meeting Billy’s. He sends you a wink with his usual smirk resting on his face. 

“Not going to say anything?” You can feel your heart racing, hating the way he’s making you feel, more annoying that he’s causing any kind of reaction from you. 

The sudden arrival of Mr. Thomson offers a reprieve from Billy's relentless pursuit. 

“Y/N, you’re free to go.” He grants you an opportunity to escape the confines of Billy's gaze. As you hastily gather your belongings and make your exit, Billy's parting words linger in the air as he whispers close to your ear, “See you around little mouse.” 

Feeling like you could breathe again, you're greeted by a note from Robin stuck to your locker.

I got called into work :( Call me later - Robin

You groan inwardly, the frustration of detention compounded by the looming task of finding a new ride home. Billy and his entourage have succeeded in tainting what was already shaping up to be a less-than-ideal day. You trudge outside, seeking solace in the cool breeze that sweeps through the schoolyard.

The pleasant Indiana weather offers a small comfort, prompting you to forgo the immediate need for a ride and opt instead for a beautiful stroll to clear your mind. As you walk, you reach into your bag and retrieve your trusty cassette player, the familiar weight of it grounding you in the midst of chaos running through your mind. You mentally curse Billy for crowding every corner of your mind. 

With a deft motion, you slipbthe cassette into the player, the soft click of the mechanism soothing in its familiarity. The strains of your favorite mix fill the air, providing a welcome distraction from the events of the day.

Lost in the music, you barely notice the passing cars, each one a blur against the backdrop of your thoughts. That is, until a certain familiar shade of blue catches your eye, the sudden halt of the vehicle drawing your attention like a magnet.

You turn, locking eyes with Billy as he idles beside you, his presence an unwelcome intrusion on your solitary walk. His voice cuts through the quiet, laced with an air of amusement that irritates your nerves.

“Didn’t think we’d meet again this soon little mouse.” he remarks, his smirk evident even from the confines of his car.

You pause your tape, the rhythmic pulse of the music abruptly silenced as you face him, a mix of irritation and annoyance evident in your expression.

"What do you want, Billy?" you questione, the weariness of the day showing in your voice.

He chuckles, the sound grating on your nerves as he leanes casually against the driver's side door, his gaze fixed on you with an unsettling intensity.

"She speaks!" he exclaims, his laughter ringing out in the quiet of the street. "Need a ride somewhere?"

You bristle at the suggestion, your resolve hardening as you met his gaze with a steely glare.

"Not from you," you retort, tone firm and uncompromising.

“Oh come on, I won’t bite. Unless you want me to.” You rolle your eyes at his innuendo, a flush rising in your cheeks as you resist the urge to give in to his persistent advances.

"I don’t need your help, Billy.”

He relents, his expression shifting to one of mock innocence as he reaches over to open the passenger door, a silent invitation hanging in the air between you.

"Come on, little mouse," he urges, his tone surprisingly gentle. "Just this one time."

You hesitate, torn between pride and practicality, before ultimately capitulating to the inevitable. You step into the car, the door closing with a soft click behind you as you buckle yourself in.

"No speeding," you warn, your voice firm as Billy complies with a laugh, the car pulling away from the curb at a reasonable pace.

As you settle into the seat, a strange sense of calm washes over you, the tension of the day slowly dissipating in the confines of the car. Despite your reservations, there was an undeniable comfort in Billy's presence, a realization that both puzzles and unnerves you in equal measure.

“So are you going to tell me where you live or am I bringing you back to my house?” 

“I live near Curly. By that trailer park.” 

“Thought you lived more in the pristine area of the Wheelers and Harringtons.” 

“Well you thought wrong.” 

As Billy maneuveres through the streets, you couldn't shake the feeling of discomfort mixed with a strange intrigue. You steal glances at him, his confident demeanor and reckless charm contrasting sharply with your own cautious nature.

"Why'd you get detention anyway?" Billy's question broke the silence, his eyes briefly leaving the road to meet yours.

"Too many tardies to homeroom," you reply, keeping your answers short.

"That's it? Seems a bit harsh," he remarks, his tone genuinely curious.

You shrug, not wanting to delve into the details of your run-in with authority.

As the familiar landmarks of Hawkins pass by in a blur, you couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead, the uncertainty of the future looming large on the horizon. You couldn’t help but think if this would be the last time Billy would go out of his way to acknowledge you. 

Navigating the familiar streets of Hawkins alongside Billy, you're acutely aware of the palpable tension that simmers between you, a potent cocktail of unease but also lingering with intrigue. Though you strive to maintain a facade of indifference, the magnetic pull of Billy's presence proves undeniable, stirring emotions you've long sought to suppress.

You’re thankful the remainder of the drive passes by in a relative quiet, punctuated only by the loud rock n roll blasting from the radio. When you finally reach your destination, you find yourself hesitating before getting out of the car.

"Thanks for the ride," you say, surprising yourself with the sincerity in your voice.

Billy grins, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Anytime, little mouse."

With that, you step out onto the sidewalk, watching as Billy drives off into the distance. As you make your way towards your house, you couldn't shake the feeling that this chance encounter with Billy Hargrove was just the beginning of something you couldn't quite put your finger on.

Little did you know, the lines between your world and the world of Hawkins' resident bad boy were about to blur in ways you never imagined possible.

The following day, you find yourself once again navigating the familiar halls of Hawkins High, the events of the previous day still fresh in your mind. As you settle into your seat in English class, you can’t seem to shake the lingering sense of unease that accompanies your newfound proximity to Billy Hargrove.

It’s the most infuriating feeling and you hate yourself for allowing him to overtake your waking thoughts all throughout your night and morning. 

The classroom buzzes with the usual chatter of students, the mundane rhythm of academic life marching on despite the turmoil brewing beneath the surface. As the bell rang, signaling the start of class, Ms. Paterson enters the room with her characteristic air of authority, a stack of papers in hand.

"Good morning, class," she greets as she makes her way to the front of the room. "Today, we'll be embarking on a new project that will count towards a significant portion of your grade for this year."

A collective groan echoes through the room at the mention of yet another assignment, but Ms. Paterson pays it no mind.

"As part of this project, you'll be working in pairs to research and present on a book report of your choosing," she announces, her gaze sweeping over the room as she distributed the assignment sheets. "I'll be assigning partners randomly, so I expect everyone to work together cooperatively."

Everyone exchanges a wary glance around the classroom, the prospect of being paired with someone like Billy Hargrove looming ominously in the air. As Ms, Paterson began calling out pairs, you held your breath, bracing yourself for the inevitable.

"Y/N, you'll be paired with... Billy Hargrove.”

You felt a sinking sensation in the pit of your stomach as Billy's name reverberated through the classroom, the weight of his presence suddenly suffocating in its proximity. You glance in his direction, meeting his gaze with a mixture of apprehension and resignation.

Billy, for his part, seemingly unfazed by the news, his trademark smirk firmly in place as he turned to face you with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

As the final bell rang, signaling the end of class, you found yourself hesitating by your desk, unsure of how to broach the subject of the upcoming project with your enigmatic partner.

Billy saunters over to your desk with his characteristic swagger, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"Well, looks like we're partners, little mouse" he remarks, his tone laced with amusement as he leans against the edge of your desk.

You fight to suppress the urge to roll your eyes at his cavalier attitude, instead meeting his gaze with a steely determination of your own.

"Yeah, looks like it," you reply as you gather your belongings.

Billy's smirk widens at your response, his gaze lingers on you with a mixture of curiosity and something else you couldn't quite decipher.

"So, partner," he begins falling into step beside you as you both maneuver out of the classroom. "Where do you wanna meet up?"

You pause, considering your options carefully before responding. The thought of inviting Billy into your home sent a shiver of apprehension down your spine, but meeting up at his place didn't seem much better.

"How about we meet at the library?" you suggest, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess yourself. "It's neutral ground, and we'll have access to all the resources we need."

Billy raises an eyebrow at your suggestion, his smirk morphing into a grin of approval.

"Works for me," he nonchalantly responds. His tone surprises you at how agreeable it is and non combative about trying to get you into his bedroom. 

"4 pm. Don’t be late. I will not be waiting on you." You demand. 

“See you then, little mouse.” He winks, walking in the opposite direction. You groan internally at the use of that nickname he’s decided to give you. This is going to be a long year. 

As you and Robin sat on the bleachers in the gym during lunchtime, the rhythmic thud of basketballs hitting the court filled the air, punctuated by the occasional cheer from the squad as they practice their routines. Your eyes involuntarily flicker towards the court, where Billy’s shirtless form glistens with sweat under the fluorescent lights of the gym, his green gym shorts leaving little to the imagination as he moves with fluid grace among his teammates.

Robin's incredulous tone breaks through your reverie, snapping you back to reality.

"Wait, you got paired up with Billy for a project?" Robin exclaims, her disbelief palpable as she tore her gaze away from the court to focus on you.

You couldn't help but chuckle at her reaction, the absurdity of the situation not lost on either of you.

"Yeah, tell me about it," you respond, taking a bite of your sandwich as you try to mask the unease that churns in your stomach. "I have no idea how I'm going to survive working with him for the rest of the year."

Caught in a moment of distraction, your eyes lock with Billy's across the expanse of the gym. Time comes to a stand still leaving only the two of you in a silent battle of uncertainty. For a fleeting moment, you found yourself captivated by the intensity of his gaze, the depths of his eyes holding a tantalizing promise of something unknown. It was a gaze that spoke volumes, conveying a myriad of emotions that stirs something deep and unexpected within you.

As if sensing the weight of your scrutiny, Billy's lips quirk into a knowing smirk, his eyes dancing with mischief as he holds your gaze with unwavering confidence. Before you could fully process the significance of the moment, the spell breaks as Billy turns his attention back to the game, seamlessly blending into the rhythm of the practice session as if the moment didn’t just happen. 

You tear your gaze away, a flush of embarrassment coloring your cheeks as you focus once more on your conversation with Robin. But despite your best efforts to dismiss the encounter, the feeling of Billy's piercing gaze lingers in the back of your mind, a silent reminder of the unexpected allure of the boy who has unwittingly become a sudden constant in your life now.  

Robin offers words of encouragement, her unwavering support a welcome balm to your frazzled nerves.

"Don't worry, Y/N," her voice a beacon of optimism in the darkness. "You're strong enough to handle anything that comes your way. Besides, who knows? Maybe working with Billy will be...interesting."

You couldn't suppress a snort of disbelief at her suggestion, the image of Billy's smug smirk and cocky attitude flashing through your mind.

"Yeah, interesting is one word for it," you remark dryly, a wry smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Let's just hope I survive long enough to at least be there for graduation."

The town library stands as a quiet sanctuary amidst the bustling small town streets of Hawkins, its walls lined with rows upon rows of books that hold the promise of knowledge and adventure. As you step through the entrance, the familiar scent of old paper and ink washes over you, wrapping you in a comforting embrace as you sought out a secluded corner to await Billy's arrival.

Minutes tick by, each second stretching into an annoying eternity as you scan the quiet aisles for any sign of your partner. Just as you begin to resign yourself to the possibility of being stood up, a figure appears in the doorway, his presence commanding attention as he makes his way towards you with purposeful strides.

"Sorry I'm late," Billy greets, his tone apologetic as he approaches, a faint crease of worry marrying his brow. "Had to drop off my step-sister at home."

You nod understandingly, "No worries," offering him a reassuring smile as you gesture towards the table. "Let's get started."

Billy's expression softens at your words, a hint of gratitude shining in his eyes as you don’t try to pry. For a moment, the weight of his troubles seem to lift from his shoulders, replaced by a sense of camaraderie as you delve into the task at hand.

As you and Billy sift through the titles of various books, searching for the perfect one to base your project on, the atmosphere between you remains comfortably casual, the initial awkwardness of your partnership gradually melting away.

"So, any preferences on which book we should choose?" you ask, breaking the silence that has settled over the table.

"Not really," he replies with a casual shrug, his gaze flicking between the book covers with mild interest. "I'm good with whatever you want."

“Do you have a favorite book?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever really finished one before.” Billy admits. 

“That’s quite sad to hear. What do you even do for fun?” 

“You think this is fun? Holding old pieces of paper about fake people and worlds. Seems like a waste of time to me.” 

You raise an eyebrow at Billy's dismissive remark, a hint of amusement tugging at the corners of your lips.

"Well, not everyone finds joy in reading, I suppose," you remark lightly, trying to keep the conversation lighthearted despite the underlying tension between you. "But there's something magical about getting lost in a good book, don't you think?"

Billy shrugs, his expression guarded as he leans back in his chair, his gaze fixes on the bookshelves before him.

"I guess," he replies with a noncommittal shrug, his tone tinged with a hint of defensiveness. "I've just never really seen the appeal, you know?"

You nod in understanding, sensing the reluctance in his voice as he skirts around the topic of his own interests.

"Well, what about movies or music?" you press, eager to draw him out of his shell and uncover the layers of complexity that lie beneath his tough exterior. "Surely there must be something you enjoy doing in your free time."

Billy hesitates for a moment, his features softening slightly as he considers your question.

"I don't know, I guess I like playing basketball," he admits, a faint glimmer of enthusiasm shining in his eyes. "And...uh, sometimes I'll mess around with drawing when I'm bored."

You smile at his admission, a flicker of curiosity igniting within you as you get to witness a glimpse of the person behind the tough facade.

"That's cool," you reply, genuine warmth coloring your voice as you lean in closer, the distance between you suddenly feeling much smaller. "I didn't know you drew. Maybe you could show me some another time?"

"Yeah, maybe," Billy replies, his tone gruff and defensive, a faint edge of defiance creeping back into his voice. "But don't get your hopes up. It’s not that great"

You sense the walls he's built around himself, the layers of protection he's carefully constructed to shield himself from vulnerability. But beneath the tough exterior, you know there’s something raw and real, a flicker of longing that hints at the depth of his hidden desires.

"That's okay," you reassure him with a smile, your voice gentle as you reach out to bridge the gap between you. "We all have to start somewhere, right?"

"Yeah," he murmurs softly, a rare vulnerability creeping into his voice. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

“So, what about you, little mouse? Any other hobbies besides reading old stories?” A spark of enthusiasm ignites within you, quite surprised at his continuing of the conversation. 

"Yeah, actually," you begin, a smile spreading across your face as you lean forward, excitement bubbling within you. "I love photography. There's just something about capturing moments and memories with people and things I love that feels so special. I don’t know, I mostly do it for fun."

A mischievous glint sparks in Billy’s eyes as he leans in closer, his voice low and teasing. " I guess I'll have to watch out for those sneaky snapshots next time."

You can't help but roll your eyes at his playful banter, the Billy everyone around Hawkins knows showing back up. 

"Please," you retort with a playful scoff, feigning indifference as you brush off his teasing with a wave of your hand. "Like you're worth wasting film on."

Billy chuckles at your response, a grin spreading across his face as he leans back in his chair, his gaze lingering on you with amusement.

"Ouch, that hurts, little mouse," he replies with mock indignation, his tone light and playful despite the underlying tension between you. "But hey, don't worry. I'll make sure to give you my best angle next time."

"Keep dreaming, Hargrove," you retort, a flicker of annoyance flashing in your eyes as you notice Billy building those tough walls back up, leaving you to the same mysteries as the rest of the town. 

As the conversation fizzles out, you can't shake the feeling of disappointment lingering in the air. Despite the brief moment of connection, it seems that Billy's walls are too high to breach, leaving you with a sense of frustration at the missed opportunity for genuine connection. You can't help but wonder about the masks he wears so loudly, each one a cacophony of distractions meant to hide the vulnerability beneath. With a resigned sigh, you turn back to the task at hand, burying your disappointment as you focus on finding the perfect book not without stealing another glance at Billy as he picks up one of the books and rifles through the pages. 

If these past two days have shown you anything, it’s how little time it takes for a stranger to become a big part of your life. It's unsettling how quickly he's managed to weave himself into the fabric of your daily existence with a persistence that both frustrates and intrigues you. You've always valued your privacy, cherished the solitude of your inner sanctuary, but now, in the wake of Billy's arrival, you find yourself craving his attention in a way you never thought possible. 

Perhaps the greatest risk is not in letting someone new in, but in closing yourself off to the possibility of genuine connection. And even with the knowledge of Billy having a tangled labyrinth for a heart, perhaps he’s worth the risk after all.

Taglist: @msbillyhargrove @uselessbutinteresting @milestellergfs @periwinkle-quill @ghostcastaway

[soaps-mohawk]

Okay so in case you were wondering why I turned anon off, and won't be turning it on probably for a while, I'm here to deliver receipts.

This is a long post so I'm putting it under a cut

There's been a few cases over the last week or so of people purposefully using other anon's emojis to send asks (not all of these were questionable or malicious. If you accidentally used one already claimed, this post is NOT about you.)

It was brought to my attention by a few anons that asks were sent that were not them. A lot of these asks weren't malicious or harassing which makes it hard to tell. As is the nature of anonymous asks, I cannot tell who sends them without some kind of sign-off or emoji, hence the use of emojis. While I believe not all of these were on purpose (see above), some of them absolutely were.

This started before the debacle about a week or so ago with ♾️ anon (which it has been confirmed that the person who asked to use that emoji was not behind the anonymous asks using that emoji) harassing me about not answering their ask. I took a screenshot of said ask, and this was what they were harassing me about

When I had anon on, I'd get a lot of asks. Sometimes as many as 20 or 30 a day. I am one person running this blog, and it takes me a while to get through asks sometimes. Most people who have ever sent asks to popular blogs (which still pains me to call this one popular) knows it can take sometimes days to get an answer because we get a lot of asks constantly.

Honestly, I wasn't going to answer this one anyway because...it's odd. Especially the timing because this was sent after chapter 29 was posted, right before chapter 30, in which neither chapter had smut in it. I know some people really love angst though so I didn't want to yuck anyone's yum, it was just very odd.

So, as I do, I start with the bottom of the inbox where the oldest asks are and I work my way up to the most recent (there are exceptions in the case of asks related to a post I just made, or asks that are easy to answer with just a few words or a gif versus a long thought out answer).

Anyway about a day after that ask was sent, I got others from that anon asking if I got their ask.

Then I made a post mid-breakdown about life sucking and the horrible position I was in (See here)

They then sent in THIS ask and got publicly shamed as they should.

A day or so goes by and I start to get a flood of asks in my inbox. Some are normal-ish, kind of odd but I'm used to kind of odd questions.

Then I start to get these

Obviously those aren't those anons. Figured that out pretty fast after a few hours of them sitting in my inbox.

Soon after I get this ask as I was getting ready for a job interview and went off because I was already stressed as fuck about the interview.

And then of course after I posted that I get this in response which I took a screenshot of and answered before blocking that anon.

And as I kind of had an inkling about, those asks above as well as several other strange ones in my inbox disappeared after blocking that anon. So it had been one perpetrator behind those at least (which was not the person who claimed that emoji that was a big misunderstanding on my part and that has since been solved and resolved.)

BUT that is not the end of this story.

As the weekend happens and the chapter is posted, I continue to get asks sent in by anons with emojis and continue to get messages from either anons saying they are that emoji anon and they didn't send that in, or those anons privately messaging me and saying they didn't send those in.

So we were having several cases of emoji stealing.

I also continue to get questionable, downright harassing asks, including these two.

That last one is what broke the camel's back and what made me turn anon off. I don't know if I'm the only one getting anons like this or if this is some new fart anon trend or what, but...look. I'm all for getting horny in my inbox. But things like this?? These kinds of things border on sexual harassment and honestly, they made me feel gross. I literally felt gross after reading those.

I don't mind being told a change of panties was necessary after smut chapters but after an angst chapter?? The timing of it was what made me suspicious. If they had sent that about three chapters ago I might not have looked twice at it.

You wanna tell me you had to pull out the willy stick for a chapter, cool. Just don't tell me what hole it was in and how long. I don't need to know that much detail. You wanna send that about fictional characters?? That's what we're here for. But I don't need to know that about YOU. I have boundaries and I'm going to add this to my rules list.

These asks definitely felt like someone very immature (and likely underage) sent them which makes me feel more disgusted about it.

I blocked that anon and the ones above. I just got pushed over the edge by people not being respectful and KNOWINGLY using others emojis making me not able to trust that an anon is who they claimed to be. Between that and the harassing asks above (which were just a select few) I decided to turn anon off indefinitely. Sorry to all my anons who aren't comfortable coming off anon but I just can't do it anymore. If you previously were an anon and are comfortable sending asks, you can still use your emoji. I don't mind that at all.

So yeah, that's the long story of why I turned anon off, and the receipts of the disgusting harassing asks I was getting. Hopefully having anon off indefinitely will make those sickos grow bored of waiting and force them to reevaluate their lives or mature enough to realize they were being stupid (cautiously hopeful but probably not.) If the internet has taught us anything, it's that trolls are gonna troll into adulthood and they will never reach the point of maturity to realize they're just being stupid. That's why they live in their parents' basement alone with no friends.

[highvern]

Teach Me V

Hands on

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Pairing: Lee Dokyeom (Seokmin) x fem!reader

Genre: smut, humor, college au, frat!svt

Warnings: fingering, mastubation, dom!reader, spitting, ass play, doggy style, facial, sex tape. Dokyeom with a praise kink pt. 2 (he's a good boy :c), unfortunately we have reached the actual angst. Poor DK gets his shit rocked :/// and everyone is upset

Length: ~7.6k

Note: picking up right where we left off in part 4 so go back and read, honestly every thing bc nothing will make any sort of sense. i think this is the longest part so far which is BANANAS but a lot needed to happen before the final part. ANYWAY! leave comments or silly tags in the reblogs, I read every single one obsessively

and because bennie aka @miniseokminnies is the number one lover of this couple, i'm giving them a shoutout for being the absolute sweetest

read more here

“Then go lock the door.”

Dokyeom nearly knocks himself out in the scramble for the door, catching himself before he can fully topple into the floor head first. You’d laugh if you weren’t just as desperate. 

With a quiet click he launches over the end of the other bed, tackling you back into the mattress to reconnect your mouths. 

Sweltering drags of sharp teeth bruise your lips, puffing them into a delicious swell before his tongue soothes them back down. If you had all the time in the world, you’d stay right where you are, bracketed beneath his arms and crushed beneath his hips. 

The damp chill of sweat blooms under your clothes, anticipating the next delicious roll of friction between your legs. Dokyeom delivers eagerly, lewdly curling his crotch against yours, echoing your moans of depravity.

“Wait,” you murmur into his mouth, stealing another searing kiss. “I haven’t told you the–” another pass of his tongue, “rules” and his teeth, “yet.”

Dokyeom moves back an inch when your finger digs into his breast bone uncomfortably. The down turn of his mouth tells you he hasn’t heard a word since “lock the door.”

“Rules, Kyeomie.”

A childish whine leaves his lips, clearly having no interest in whatever you're about to tell him as he dives back down for more kisses. His mouth drops in shock as the warm skin of your palm covers the lower half of his face. You fling it away when the wet pass of his tongue across the crease between your fingers nearly makes you falter.

“Rules?” Dokyeom eyes you skeptically from above. You wouldn’t be surprised if he stomps his foot and throws a full tantrum on the floor in the next few minutes.

“Mhmm,” you confirm, eyes dropping to follow your fingers tracing down his chest. When you brush the waistband of his pants, you look back up at Dokyeom as he stutters a breath. “Rules.”

In typical fashion, Dokyeom tries to distract you from things he doesn’t like, hoping they’re forgotten under nips of teeth and the heat of his body burning into yours. Pressing into your space, he drops his elbows to the mattress on either side of your head to leer over you. 

You forget how broad he is sometimes, but you're reminded now by the way he eclipses your view beyond his shoulders before he swoops for the kill, sucking your lower lip between his own.

Indulging in the peace of a good makeout, you let him think he’s got you where he wants you. And for a second, Dokyeom does; eager to fold you in half and give you his cock. But this is your prize and reward. Maybe you should save one of them, but patience has never been one of your good qualities. 

Slowly snaking your fingers up his neck, tickling his jaw before raking your nails through the short strands of hair at the base of his scalp. Gentle touches make him cocky, enticing him to drop more of his weight and shuffle you up towards the pillows.

A firm tug disconnects him, causing Dokyeom to yelp in surprise.

“Rule number one, I’m in charge.” You start, brushing over the patch of hair you just pulled on to calm the sensitive skin. “Rule two, no touching unless I say so.”

“I don’t like these rules.” He mumbles, pouting once again.

Laying back on the bed completely, you entice him with honey eyes and a sweet smile. “If you’re a good boy, I’ll let you do whatever you want. Next time.”

“Whatever I want?”

“Within reason.” You agree, shrugging your shoulders lazily. 

“And if I’m not?”

You scramble to think of a punishment, not expecting him to call your bluff so suddenly. 

“I’ll rub one out in the shower and you can listen at the door.”

Dokyeom huffs at the idea, “That’s not fair!”

“You said you’d give me whatever I want. And this is my prize for winning.” 

“Will you let me…”

“If you behave you can come anywhere you want. And I want a video of it.”

“Fuck, okay.” he nods. “What do you want me to do?”

“Take off your clothes.”

Rising to stand before you, he pulls the hem of his sweater up to reveal the soft trail of hair leading beneath his pants. When he notices you're not moving, Dokyeom cocks his head sideways. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you gonna take yours off too?”

“Hmmm, it's kinda cold. Maybe later.”

“You’re mean.”

Batting away his hand attempting to snake up your shirt, you motion for him to start again. “Yeah, yeah. Now drop ‘em.”

Standing between your spread legs, Dokyeom fists the neck of his sweatshirt. Each inch the worn navy fabric rises unveils another stretch of warm skin and clenching muscles. His stomach ripples deliciously, before his chest tightens as well. When his arms come free, he not so subtly raises them above his head in a laze stretch, monitoring your face for a reaction. 

Shaking your head, you bite back a laugh at his ridiculousness. When he spins to flash his butt as his thumbs dip into the waist of his pants, chin turning over his shoulder as his mouth puckers before one of his hands covers it, you can’t control it any longer. 

He laughs too, happily dissolving the tension in the room. 

Sweatpants hit the floor with a quiet thunk, his underwear remaining on his hips. Raising your eyebrow in a challenge, Dokyeom steps back into your space. He’s half hard under the black fabric, bulge prominent already. 

“Underwear too.”

He keeps climbing over you, pressing you back into the blanket. “Maybe later, it’s cold.”

“Kyeomie, you’re not being good.” You chide, cupping him softly in a loose fist as you rut the heel of your hand against him.

To his credit, Dokyeom tries to play it cool. But the red tips of his ears and stutter of lungs do all the talking he’s refusing to. Lending a helping hand, you free him from the cling of his boxers before digging the pad of your thumb into the weeping tip of his cock.

Bare from head to toe, you lean back to drink your fill of the sight before you. The shy twist of his lips is a laughable contrast to the rest of his body. Strong arms, hard chest, thick thighs, and a beautiful cock hardening to full mast under your gaze.

Fuck. You think with a harsh swallow.

Pulling your eyes away from ogling his body to glance at his face, you find him already watching you. Eager for your next move. “Do you want me to touch you?”

“Yeah.” He sighs, cock twitching at the idea.

“Show me how.”

With your permission he begins palming his cock, spreading the sheen of pre-cum down the rigid shaft. But it’s not enough to fend off the unpleasant friction. 

Dokyeom’s breath labors under the twist of his wrist, flushing tip nearly purple. 

Throwing to the poor man a bone, you nudge his hand away from his cock and towards your mouth, spitting lewdly into his palm before leading it back where it was. Not one to waste time, he quickly squeezes a tight grip, hips rushing forward to work through his fist as his other hand drops to fondle his balls. On a particularly sharp thrust of his hips, Dokyeom sings a throaty groan to the ceiling as his head tips back.

Dokyeom is beautiful. Neck elongated, throat bobbing over his own obnoxiously loud grunts. Beads of perspiration slip from his temple, racing down his neck to etch a path across his chest. The shoddy lamp in the corner is bright enough to highlight the heat on his cheeks that spreads from the tips of his ears to his dusky nipples. 

There's too much to look at, but the way his stomach sucks in as his wrist twists across his head makes you feel breathless. And the vein that you love to trace with your tongue rises, webbing from his cock up to the trail of hair dusty his abdomen strings you out as much as Dokyeom feels.

You’d fucked him enough to know when he’s about to cross the point of no return. It starts with a whimpered “baby,” and a few desperate “please”s, then Dokyeom’s muscles pull tight like a frozen rubber band, more than ready to snap under the pressure.

You sit forward, close enough to feel the aura of heat cloaking his body. “Are you gonna cum?”

Dokyeom tries to deny it, shaking his head clumsily before a whimper rips from behind his teeth.

“Stop.”

Chest glistening in the light, Dokyeom gives himself one last tug before he steadying his breathing for what’s next. When you stand, the coarse fabric of your sweater covering your stomach rasping against his sensitive cock as you step into his space, he curls into the friction before calming again. Dokyeom watches you down the slope of his nose, eyes scanning your face for any betrayal of your thoughts. Your cheeks are hot, and no doubt your pupils are dilated like his but you don’t smile or crinkle your nose teasingly. Just a simple low lidded stare as you assess him.

Dokyeom’s shiver has nothing to do with the chilly air seeping into the room.

“Sit on the bed.”

A beat passess, a vague challenge against your authority, but he steps around you and takes his place at the edge of the red and blue quilt. Legs wide, arms behind him to prop him up; cheekily cocking an eyebrow.

“Start again.”

Not waiting for you to change your mind, he picks up right where he left off, finding his rhythm with ease.

But you can’t have that.

So you fall to your knees between his spread legs, eye level with Dokyeom’s cock, allowing your hands to squeeze the cords of muscle flexing around his thighs, nails biting into the bulging flesh. The sting of pain is rewarded with a squeeze of his fist around the puffy head of his cock, leaking a gooey pearl of cum for you to lick away.

Dokyeom tries to chase the brief touch but fails when you lean back out of reach. “Does it feel good?”

“Yeah.” He stutters, eyes heavy as he focuses on how incredibly close and incredibly far from his cock you are.

“Do you want me to touch you?”

He nods hopefully.

“Ask nicely.”

When he fails to respond, you dig flex your fingers still on his thighs, nails leaving crescents near the crease of his hip in warning. 

A warning to who, you have no idea since Dokyeom squeezes the base of his dick to stop himself from cumming. 

“P–please.”

“I am, silly.”

You spot the indignant frustration bloom on his face, tears welling in his eyes as you tell him to beg for every last drop of satisfaction. And to rub salt in the wood, you flash our best innocent smile.

“Want your mouth.”

“My mouth? Like this?” You leave a cheap kiss on his knee.

“On my cock.”

“Oh so like this.” The same kiss on his tip, pre-cum sticking to your lips as you dive away before you can fold and give him more.

“No,” he whines, frustrated, muscles in his thighs jumping.

Dokyeom hasn’t stopped his hand, but he’s loosened his grip to stave off his organism. Teasing himself, helping you torture and edge him.

“You have to tell me what you want or I can’t give it to you, baby.”

“I can’t—,” he cries “please just—”

You wanted Dokyeom whining and needy, to string him out till he can barely think straight. And you have, but you overestimated how long it’d take. And how long you’d be able to deny yourself any pleasure either.

Rising to your feet, you loom over him. “Take off my pants.” You command, busy with removing your sweater.

Eager for the possibility of relief, Dokyeom jams you panties and underwear around your ankles swiftly. His tongue tracks along the crease above your thigh where it becomes your torso, rough palms squeezing and spreading your ass harshly as he reaches behind to press you closer.

You don’t bother with unclasping your bra, ripping it overhead along with your undershirt in haste to be naked. Scrambling for his face, you suck him into a sloppy kiss before tripping over the fabric snaring your legs and tackling him to the bed.

“You’re so fucking hot” He hisses into your mouth, bucking into your fist as you play with his cock, thumb harsh against his weep slit.

“Remember our deal.” You pant, reminding both of you what’d been agreed on outside the door.

Dokyeom sighs, the back of his head hitting the bed to observe your nude body above him. Enraptured by the endless stretches of skin. “Whatever you say.” 

A few minutes of mindless groping grants you both a reprieve. Dokyeom wedges his thigh between your legs, flexing as you grind against him, soaking him with each pitiful pass, his hands splayed wide across the meat of your ass to assist.

Two of his fingers catch on your entrance, dipping in lightly, waiting for your protest. But when your hips lift to search for firm contact, Dokyeom stuffs you full, stretching you to hopefully take his now neglected cock leaking just below his belly button.

Working up to a third finger, you ride his hand as your clit wears against the friction of his leg. Dokyeom busies his mouth with your neck, a constellation of teeth marks and bruises staining the sensitive stretch of skin. 

It almost better than fucking him. Giving freedom to the supernova building in your core, tickling the nerves of your extremities in a tease. Everything is tight; the muscles cinching his finger as he curves them, your lungs screaming for air, even the squeeze of your eyes leaves a collage of colors and static across your vision.

The sting across your scalp as Dokyeom pulls your hair, forcing your face out of hiding over his shoulder, sends a painful mewl in between you. 

He watches your mouth hang open, eyes rounding under the furl of your eyebrows. Dokyeom gives another tug when your forehead tips forward, his tongue catching your squeak of shock.

“Please cum, fuck please.” He begs into your mouth, breathy as he presses his fingers gloved inside you a fraction harder before adding his pinky. “Need it, please baby.”

His hand slips down to hold your chin between the curve of his thumb and index finger, drooling as you bite his thumb between your teeth. 

“C’mon baby,” Dokyeom grunts, rocking you forward from the gusto of his other hand. “Let me make you come.”

Wrecked moans fill the silence, breaking the band in your gut to free fall over the edge. You land on his chest as your arms give out, muscles spasming under the flood of endorphins bolting through your veins. Dokyeom doesn’t stop, arm flexing as he works through your high, a pornographic squelch echoing with each press. Darkness consumes you, floating through space as you cry from delectable torture, hips canting into overstimulation.

Squeezing your thighs together tightly, Dokyeom tries to work through the sudden barrier but stops when you bite his shoulder painfully. 

“Too much,” you whine, voice horse.

Panting in unison, you only rest for a moment before returning to your plan. Damn Dokyeom’s fingers for distracting you so easily.

Rolling to your side, he follows, waiting with baited breath at your next move.

Technically, he broke the rules. It’d been to your benefit, but misbehavior nonetheless. If you were cruel, you’d send him to the bathroom to take care of himself. But your orgasm only made you want Dokyeom’s cock more. 

You feel him crowding over you, a smatter of gentle kisses peppering your face, his thumb working against a knot in your thigh from being on top for so long. You don’t focus on the sticky discomfort between your thighs, or else you’ll be tempted to have his mouth there next and you know you’re already operating on borrowed time.

Opening your eyes, you find his brown ones staring back. He looks a little afraid.

Good.

“Kyeomie,” you chide, tutting at him.

“Come on!” he protests, mouth dropping in shock.

“You broke the rules.”

“Baby, please don’t do this to me.”

Drama queen to his core, Dokyeom won’t stop to see your failure at hiding a smirk. He riles himself up without your help, pretending to be upset was just too easy of an option.

Shaking your head disappointedly, you move to sit up. “You said you’d listen.”

“I promise I’ll be good!” He whines, slinking to the floor between your legs, hands clenched together in front of him. His cock is solid as steel, head nearing purple under the need to release. 

“Promises, promises.” You sigh.

“Do you want me to cry? Because I will. If that’s what it takes.” 

He starts rapidly blinking, trying to draw up a reserve of tears, only stopped by the press of your foot against his chest.

“Stop.” You bark, the bite from the laugh hiding in the back of your throat.

You don’t see his expression as you twist onto your stomach, rising to your knees, chest pressed in the bed to give a salacious arch to your spine.

A draft curls around your exposed cunt, causing you to squeeze and forcing more arousal to drip down your legs.

“Shit,” Dokyeom murmurs behind you.

Turning to watch him over your shoulder, you wait until he meets your heated gaze. “Make me cry, Kyeom.”

Nodding like a bobble head, Dokyeom rises, pressing into you swiftly. Sheathing himself to the hilt, he wastes no time before retreating to come back once more.

The pace is bruising, knocking the wind from your lungs. He’s so deep you swear you can feel him in the back of your throat.

‘Make me cry’ is vague enough he hesitates, afraid of breaking the rules despite the wet groans shaking in his chest.

“Touch me, Kyeomie.” You bawl, drooling on to the patchwork quilt below you.

A sting on your ass is the first blow, followed by two more. The snaps against your skin leave a hot mark behind, encouraging you to whine for more as a cold sweat clings to your spine.

“So tight, shit.” Dokyeom bites between his teeth, folding over your back to suck on your neck.

He brushes the spot he’s only ever found with his fingers, sending you into a spiral, springing tears in your eyes.

“Right there,” you pant, “fuck don’t stop.”

The headboard knocks against the wall in time with his thrusts, one knee landing on the bed to give him more leverage to fill you deeper. Dokyeom’s breath puffs against the side of your face, uneven like he’s been punched in the gut.

Ripping one of his hands away from your side, you bring his hand around your neck, eager to feel his long fingers collar you. There’s a tentative quake before Dokyeom delivers a gentle possessive squeeze, rushing to you when you choke on a noise somewhere between a groan and a sob.

You devolve into a symphony of primal grunts. Tearing himself from your back, Dokyeom twists the hand around your throat back into the hair at the base of your spine, the other hand dropping to spread your ass apart. Something wet lands on your puckered hole, his thumb grazing your rim with the added lubrication.

You realize he spit on you.

“Fuck Kyeomie, do that again.” You squeal, delighted by another swat of his hand as he gives you what you ask for.

When he whines “Gonna cum.” you stop him with a hand against his stomach.

“Please, can’t,” He whimpers, curling his hips once more, staying flush with the meat of your ass as he rocks inside you.

Eyes tight to savor the stretch, you swallow the desire to give in down with the knowledge something better waits on the other side of your demand. “Kyeomie stop.”

And with herculean effort, he steps back, soaked cock threatening to drip on the carpet as your hole tightens in mourning.

“Where’s my phone?” You ask, collapsing forward to catch your breath.

Dokyeom crouches down for your forgotten pants, searching the pockets before he finds the device.

“Here.”

Entering your passcode, you open your camera app and set it to video before passing it back.

“Wha—”

“You were good.” You explain, slipping to the floor like smoke. The hard floor stings into your knees once again before taking him in your mouth.

A series of gurgled noises flee his chest, but you open your eyes to see the camera about a foot above you, catching the way your lips stretch around his cock, your fist taking what your mouth can’t. The combination of pre-cum, saliva and your arousal floods your mouth, excess pushed out of your lips and drooling down your chin. You manage to get him settled in your throat after a few passes, delivering a harsh such on the upstroke that has Dokyeom batting you away, jacking off over your face as ropes of white land haphazardly. 

Mouth open wide and pink tongue extended, the familiar musky tang flares through your taste buds. Thankfully Dokyeom attempts to aim away from your eyes, albeit sloppily. You feel the hot stickiness across the bridge of your nose, dripping down the apples of your cheeks as it keeps coming with every slick squelch of his hand.

Thoroughly spent, he taps the head against your lips, urging you to suck him in one last time. Flashing your eyes open, you meet his over the edge of your phone as you kitten lick the sensitive head. Chasing his hips when he steps away, Dokyeom lets the camera get every angle of the magnificent mess he made before brushing his fingers across the dip of your chin, panting as you lave against them in place of his cock before smiling up at him shyly. With one last lick to your lips, he cuts the recording and tosses your phone on the bed.

“How was—”

Your question dies on your lips as Dokyeom claims them, ignore the sticky cum now drying on your face. Dragging you to stand, he pushes one hand into your hair, the other circling your waist as he tastes his spend on your tongue.

Only the desperate need for oxygen pulls you apart.

Struggling to catch your breath, his saccharine grin is a stark contrast to your activities a moment ago.

Ushering you into the cramped bathroom to clean away the mess, you find yourself in the too small stall, firmly snared in Dokyeom’s arms. Peppering endless kisses up and down the curve of your shoulder, he noses behind your ear when you hum pleasantly in his hold as he gives a firm squeeze.

But the water begins to chill before long, prompting you to wiggle free which isn’t really free at all in the compact stall. You keep him at bay with hands full of shampoo, working his hair into a faux Mohawk full of perfumed bubbles. Returning your generosity, Dokyeom soaks a washcloth in a comical amount of the cheap body wash sitting in the corner before swiping the sudsy fabric over your skin. He's surprisingly thorough, methodically working up your arms and down your chest in loose circles, focusing on your breasts before you tsk at him with a smile. A twirl of his fingers prompts you to turn so he can focus on your back. When he drops to his knees to finish, he shoulders apart your legs, dropping his mouth against the cleft between your ass and your thigh.

One hand finds your exhausted cunt, the thick gloss of fluids clinging to your folds despite your time under the hot spray of the shower head. You wait with baited breath as Dokyeom silently works, his middle and pointer finger parting your lips, forcing you on the balls of your feet when he grazes your sensitive clit. A nudge against your leg has you spinning to face him, mouth dropping open as he lifts a leg over one of his stronger shoulders to get a better look.

And then, as if a spell is broken, he drops a kiss to your hip before continuing with his rag, foamy soap lacing your legs.

“All clean.” He decrees, rising to meet you with another peck on your parted lips.

Now lukewarm water rinses away the evidence of his efforts. Still dumbfounded, you let him guide you from the stall, patting you down with a scratchy towel before wrapping his own around his waist. 

Watching each other in the mirror as you brush your teeth, skin still damp and glowing in the steam, you make an attractive pair. Exhausted, but fitting together like two perfect puzzle pieces.

The bathroom should only fit one person at a time, so the two of you are practically on top of one another as you shuffle back and forth between the sink. Dokyeom has the bright idea to lift you to the counter, standing between your legs as he watches you apply your skincare.

He’s already finished his business, but he refuses to leave your side. “What’s that do?”

“Lotion.” You respond, patting it across your face.

“Can I have some?”

“Sure.”

Grabbing the bottle to pump some in his hands, you return to find his eyes closed, offering you his face. Puffing a breath of amusement, you dab a few dots across his skin before gently massaging it in. Tracing the curve of his eye socket, down to his cheek bones, the sharp edge of his jaw. When you brush his chin, you curve two fingers around the bone, pulling him forward to meet your lips.

And the way he looks at you when his eyes open after you separate hurts. Hurts so much you slipe down from the counter, fleeing the suffocating tension of the bathroom to return to the real world of the bedroom. 

“Are you okay?” Dokyeom asks, following after you.

“Yeah!” You agree too loudly, digging around your bag for something to sleep in. “Just got lightheaded for a second.”

You know he doesn’t believe you when he mutters a skeptical, “Okay.” 

Donning a pair of boxers and a long sleeve that may or may not belong to the man behind you, you hop into bed next to him, praying he won’t hear the staccato beat of your heart.

Curling around your back, Dokyeom spoons you from behind as you both face the windows to watch the storm ragging on outside. A bolt of lightning webs through the black clouds, reflecting off the murky lake sloshing in the wind.

Despite your earlier nap, you're spent both mentally and physically. The gentle woosh of Dokyeom’s breath lulls you back across the bridge to sleep.

—

A sudden shake of the bed wakes you. The room is pitch black. Dokyeoms body is still behind you but he’s whisper-shouting at whatever the source of disturbance is. A teary whine informs you Soonyoung has decided to put himself to bed. In the wrong bed.

“Dude, get up.” Dokyeom groans, twisting to push the older man off the mattress.

You burrow further under the comforter, face squashed in the fluffy pillow under your head.

A disgusting sniffle responds, before Soonyoung moans. “You’re my best friend.”

“Thank you but you’re gonna wake her up.”

Everything is happening like you're below water, their voices muffled and miles away but you’re rising to the surface fast. If Soonyoung is the reason you can’t fall back to sleep later, you’ll wring his neck.

“Oh wouldn’t wanna inconvenience your girlfriend. Do you know how many times I’ve been woken up by you two?”

“Shut up.” A swift smack rings into the silence, followed by more drunk tears.

You feel something, or rather someone, wiggling between you and Dokyeom. Turning over to face the intruder, you open your eyes to the dark room and the shadow of Soonyoung a few inches from your face. Red as a tomato and eyes struggling to remain open.

“Hey! Hey, Y/N.” Each call punctuated with a poke to your ribs.

Huffing an exhausted breath, you humor Soonyoung in hopes he goes away. “What the fuck do you want?” 

“Do you like Dokyeom?”

You’re certainly awake now. “Huh?”

“He likes you.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Dokyeom yells behind, trying to snake his hand over Soonyoung’s mouth.

“I’m just speaking the facts!” Soonyoung protests.

The waft of alcohol hangs around your face as Dokyeom successfully drags his friend from the bed. They’re wrestling on the ground in the narrow strip of floor between beds, jostling you with their roughhousing. 

Having reached your limit, fueled further by Soonyoung’s ill timed remarks, you snap. “Girls you’re both pretty, now can we please go to bed?”

“Fine.” 

“FINE.”

Cocooning in the blanket, you wiggle to the opposite edge of the mattress, as far away from the chaos as you can manage. The springs on the other side of the room squeak under Soonyoung’s weight as he flops down bonelessly, bouncing twice before he settles.

Once Dokyeom is satisfied he won’t get up, you feel the dip behind you as he shuffles under the covers.

Several uncomfortable inches separate your bodies as Soonyoung begins to snore.

Minutes pass, your heart thudding in your ears, breath uncomfortably labored. 

This was a bad idea. A string of bad ideas actually. Partnering with Dokyeom in lab, agreeing to go to the frat party at the beginning of the semester. Kissing him a few weeks later, taking his virginity. Hooking up with him again and again. Letting him hold you like he was more than a friend. Letting him kiss and touch as he pleased, doing the same. Spending the night. Driving up to this cabin and pretending it all meant more than it really did.

If Dokyeom liked you, he would have said something by now. He doesn’t stop talking unless he’s sleeping or eating, and both of those instances are more loose guidelines than strict rules. He wears his heart on his sleeve so if he felt anything for you beyond mutually shared sexual attraction you’d know.

And the way he reacted to Soonyoung’s declaration proves he doesn’t. 

There’d never been a promise of something more. You were his fuck buddy and chemistry partner. Romance and dating never came up. Nevermind the fact you hadn’t entertained another guy all year and Dokyeom never mentions other girls. Only awkwardly laughing when someone boldly approaches him, gently rejecting them with stuttered reasons why he isn’t interested.

Sometimes you think he’s looking at you to step in and say something, but it’s just a convenient excuse to not hurt someone’s feelings.

And because you’re selfish, you come up with a solution.

You’ll enjoy the next two days, bury your heart deep in your chest and pretend nothings changed in the ripples of tonight. When you return to campus Monday afternoon, whatever feelings you may have will be left behind in this room to wither in the darkness. Dokyeom will go back to being the cute guy you’re partnered with in chemistry and that’ll be that. No more hookups, no more movie nights on his couch, and certainly no more parties where alcohol will convince you to fold on your plan.

So you might as well enjoy it while it lasts.

Dokyeom jumps when you turn around and snuggle into his back, nose following the valley of his spine as your arm curls around his waist to rest on the soft skin of his stomach. A few chirps of the crickets outside the window pass before you feel his fingers twine with your own, pulling your connected hands to his mouth, dropping a gentle press of lips on your knuckles.

And somehow it makes everything worse.

—

Sunday morning, you wake with determination and indulgent kisses to Dokyeom’s sleeping face.

But day one of your flawless plan comes with unforeseen road bumps. 

Once you finally manage to slip from bed, batting away the arms of your still dreaming lover, you find your phone flooded with a collection of pictures courtesy of Seungkwan. Snaps of you next to Dokyeom, laughing in time with mouths wide and chins tipped back. A few of you in his lap, watching the chaos of a drunk game night as he watches you, face relaxed and lips turned into a soft grin. And one picture of him staring out the living room window into the front yard illuminated with the high noon sun, like a puppy waiting for its owner to return. 

Roadbump two boils down to your nativity.

After deciding to freely enjoy whatever Dokyeom has to offer for forty eight hours, he’s turned everything up to a hundred. Back hugs when you’re washing a dirty coffee cup in the kitchen sink, disgustingly cartoonish kisses where he can land them, his hands burning into your skin at every chance. Which are more frequent than you’d imagine considering he doesn’t let you out of his sight all morning.

His presence is intoxicating, sweet the same way the first warm breeze in spring is. But instead of drumming up new blooms, all he leaves is confusion.

Soonyoung’s slip off tongue doesn’t come up again but there's palpable tension between the two of them. The usual twin laughs silent as they avoid one another like the plague.

But the subtle apology comes when Soonyoung mentions the jacuzzi on the porch in passing when Dokyeom runs to the restroom.

“If you and DK wanna use it, I’ll keep everyone else out.”

Smiling as if he didn’t cause the thick anxiety in your gut, you thank him.

Luckily, the hot tub is conveniently covered by a tin awning, the echoing pitter patter of the sky falling around you as you both sink into the steamy water, string lights crossing above provide a warm glow.

Even if Soonyoung hadn’t agreed to be referee, no else is dumb enough to risk the cold snap settling in the air; despite the reprieve of the soothing jets and steaming water.

Thighs caging Dokyeom’s own as you rest in his lap, facing him. Hands busy at the sides of his neck, thumb massaging the tight knots of muscle along his shoulders, following the beads of steam that cling to his skin, trailing down to pool in his collar bone. 

Content washes through your bones. Here, in his arms, all alone. Touching just to touch, the way couples do simply because they can.

And it drives you mad.

“Minnie?”

Dokyeom hums in response, continuing to trail his nose around the curve of your jaw, feathering fleeting kisses in his travels.

“What are we doing?”

Lifting to your temple, he whispers “What do you mean?”

What did you mean? The question came out before you realized what was happening, so high on conflicting emotions you’d lost your carefully crafted control. But it’s too late now.

“Why’d you invite me?” You clarify, hooking your chin over his shoulder to avoid looking at his face.

“Because I like having you around.” 

He says it with mild disbelief, like you asked what color the sky is. 

“That’s it?”

“I don’t—,” he pauses. “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know. I just thought...”

“You thought what?”

Shaking your head, you lock yourself behind the vault door again. “Nothing, it's stupid.”

But Dokyeom isn’t willing to let you run away so easily. Gently lifting your chin till you’re out of his neck, he waits until you look at him before asking again.

“Tell me. Please?”

“I just thought maybe you invited me for a reason.” You grumble, burning under his inquisitive stare.

“I mean I did.” he swallows, thumb caressing the soft dip beneath your chin absentmindly. “I missed you.”

His confession melts your resolve slightly. But it’s not enough. 

“Is that it?”

“What else is there?”

Any part of you that softened in the last minute tenses again. You got your answer. 

“You’re right.” Your voice is hollow. 

Dokyeom senses it immediately. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You're upset.”

“I’m fine.” But your voice says you’re clearly not.

“Talk to me.” He begs in a tiny voice you wouldn’t think someone as loud and bright as him would be capable of, fingers tangling with your own beneath the water.

All of it leaves a bitter taste coating your mouth like oil.

“Do you like me?”

He flounders at your sudden boldness, “Do I— what?”

“You don’t.”

“I didn’t say that!” He objects, distressed from the bite of your words.

“Well Soonyoung did and you couldn’t have shut him down faster!”

“Because it’s none of his business!”

“Then whose is it?”

“Well, do you like me?”

“I asked first!”

“I asked second!”

“God you’re such a fucking child!”

Dokyeom stands up, dumping you from his lap into the water unceremoniously.

Swiping at the water caught in your eyes as you surface, you scream. “What the fuck?”

“Oh I’m sorry! I’m just sooo childish I didn’t think about it!” He huffs, already wrapping a towel around his waist as he stomps into the house. A trail of wet footprints glistening in the lights behind him.

Through the glass sliding door, you see dozens of heads turn to follow him up the stairs. And when he disappears down the hallway at the top, they all turn to see you. Alone. Tears trickling down your face to blend with the beads of water.

—

Seungkwan comes to your rescue. Swaddling you in a large beach towel before ushering you to his room, eyes daring anyone to step in his way. The walk is filled with long awkward silence, everyone watching intently, curious as to what happened on the back porch.

Depositing you on his bed, Seungkwan leaves you to yourself with a promise to return soon. Snot drips from your nose, vision blurred as you fight to stifle your pathetic sniffles, face burning as you wipe the mess away over and over again with the edge of the towel. 

You take to focusing on your surroundings. The room is decorated in the same garish collection of bears and tartan as Dokyeom’s. But it only houses one measily twin bed, a long cherry stained dresser hugging alone the wall, and an air mattress pushed into the corner next to the closet. Seungkwan’s roommate is unknown to you but you’d bet money it’s Vernon’s black duffle in the corner.

Shivering in your bikini and towel, you remain on the bed as you turn to look out the window. Focusing on the different cars peppering the front lawn and driveway, your own blocked in by a black SUV. 

You’ll ask Seungkwan to find the owner so they can move it. No intention of staying further into the morning than you have to.

*

On the opposite end of the house, Soonyoung listens dutifully as Dokyeom paces the limited floor space in their room. 

“...and she wants to say I’m childish! Me!”

Soonyoung knows it’s in his best interest to act surprised, disgusted by the insult. But one person stormed through the house dripping water everywhere, and the other was nearly carried while she cried because of said first person. 

He also realizes that this entire incident can be traced back to himself so stays quiet.

“I don’t even know why I asked her here in the first place.”

“What happened?”

Dokyeom looks at Soonyoung as if he forgot he was present at all. “What?”

“I thought you two were having fun?”

“We were. And then she asked if I liked her and before I could say anything she jumped down my throat.”

“Did she say if she liked you back?”

“No, but she obviously doesn’t.”

“I don’t know dude, she was crying pretty hard when Seungkwan brought her inside.”

As if the news shocks him like an ice bath, Dokyeom flinches before asking “She was crying?”

“Yeah she—”

The crack of the door hitting the wall silences Soonyoung. Seungkwan stands in the threshold, face eerily calm but body clenched.

“You piece of shit!” is all the warning Dokyeom gets before Seungkwan is on him.

Dokyeom is a victim of his own shock, allowing Seungkwan to put him in a headlock before he has a chance to blink. 

They crash onto the bed next to Soonyoung, attempting to grapple one another as Soonyoung works to pry them apart.

“What the fuck!” Dokyeom’s voice shakes as Seungkwan snakes his arms around his neck.

“My best friend is crying her heart out in my room because of you.”

Dokyeom manages to evade, getting Seungkwan underneath him. “I didn’t do anything!”

“Bull shit!”

“STOP!” Soonyoung bellows, using a tone he rarely thinks himself capable of. The one his mom used just before she lost her shit from him and his sister fighting.

He pins them with a glare, ripping his roommate back by the collar of his sweater. “You sit the fuck down.” Then he’s on Seungkwan who watches him with a wide mouth, “You take her bag to your room.”

To their credit, they both listen. Seungkwan snatches your bag up, slamming the door so hard it rattles on its hinges as he exits. Dokyeom fumes but sits, watching the older man as plants himself on the opposite mattress once again with a hand scrubbing down his face.

“Do you like her?”

Dokyeom looks uncomfortable but answers. “Yes.”

“And you think she doesn’t like you?”

Another pause. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because she—,” Dokyeom flounders, hands flailing to provide some intangible explanation. 

Much to other’s doubts, Soonyoung is smarter than that.

“Because she drove almost three hours to be here? Because you guys giggle like idiots whenever you’re together?”

Dokyeom collapses backwards, head bouncing against the mattress before he sullenly sighs. “She just sees me as a friend.”

“Weirdly enough, her and Seungkwan are friends and she isn’t all over him.”

“That’s different!”

“Why?”

“If she liked me, she would have said something.”

“Maybe you’re just not listening.”

—

Seungkwan returns to his room, met with red rimmed eyes and damp cheeks as you watch him from the end of his bed. The beach towel he left you in is soaking wet, providing little protection from the mountain air that seeps through the seal in the window.

“I brought your stuff.” Seungkwan says gently, disturbed by your silence.

You notice his clothes are wrinkled, and his hair is a mess. But when you open your mouth to ask what happened, a fresh batch of tears enter the space between you.

Approaching you like a frightened animal, he pulls you into a comforting hug. “I’m sorry.”

The shoulder of Seungkwan’s long sleeve dampens like the towel as you shake. “I can’t believe he’d—.”

“It’s okay.” He coos, hand stroking the back of your head.

A few hours later, you rest on your back, bundled under the quilt of the twin bed. You’re freezing despite the layers of clothing you’d worn, curious why you hadn’t felt this cold the other night. Even when the answer is obvious you don’t dwell.

Seungkwan snores on the air mattress, whispering something undecipherable in his sleep; apparently Vernon agreed to sleep elsewhere for the night. Whether it was of his own volition or under a direct threat, you're thankful no else has to see you like this. 

Closing your eyes, you try to break the barrier of sleep. You need to be up in a few hours, and god knows leaving the sanctuary of this cramped room will be exhausting enough.

—

Five in the morning on a long weekend should be a time of peace and quiet. Birds chirping into the calmness of the early dawn, dew cling to the grass in an effort to hide from the sun.

But a slip down one of the slick wooden steps sends you to your ass with a loud thud.  No harm, no foul. Just a sore tailbone and another coal in the fire of your annoyance.

Closing your eyes to compose yourself, lest you scream like you’ve wanted to since last night. Several deep calming breaths, in through your nose out through your mouth, before you rise.

And at the bottom of the steps sits another reason to scream.

Dokyeom looks like shit, for lack of a better word. Hair tangled, dark locks flat in some areas and defying gravity in others. His face blotchy, eyes rimmed red with sullen dark circles curving along the top of his cheek bones, like he hasn’t slept a wink. Even his clothes are a mess, the collar of his crew neck stretched more than it was before.

All to say, he is a mirror image of you.

Staring at one another like two startled deer, you rise to your feet before tilting your chin defyingly.

Crying in front of everyone had been enough embarrassment. The next time you lose control will be in the privacy of your car as you drive back to campus, where you can wail until you lose your voice.

“Hi,” he croaks.

Ignoring him, you descend the remaining stairs, aiming to breeze past. But Dokyeom steps in your way and waits till you look up at him again.

“I’m sorry.”

Seconds tick past and neither of you break the staring contest. Grinding your teeth, you try to side step Dokyeom again but he’s right there.

“Can we talk?”

Talking is the last thing you want to do. More tears are welling behind your eyes with each beat of your heart, and if you open your mouth it’ll say whatever it takes for him to hold you again. 

This time when you push against his shoulder, Dokyeom lets you go. 

And you hate the part of you that wishes he didn’t.