#bitch you’ve never touched my water cups what the hell

[yellobb]

Today is day one of trying to take my meds the second I wake up instead of waiting until after I eat. I brought my meds by my bed, I had a cup of water, I was good to go!

I wake up to Piper (my dog) being let into my room. The FIRST THING SHE DOES is go directly to my water cup and start drinking from it

Ma’am?????? Excuse???????????

Luckily my sister was willing to grab me a fresh cup, but this is an act of war

[marvelous-harry]

Can you write something of where the reader has been busy with work the past couple of days and hasnt really gotten time to spend time with harry and harry gets all upset over it. and the reader comes home from work that day in a bad mood since she’s annoyed with her boss and she accidentally snaps at harry and he gets all emotional. and then he tells her that he missed her and then she takes care of him. sub harry pls and mommy kink. thank uuu

Making Up & Making Out Sub!Harry/Mommy!Dom!Fem!Reader Words: 2K Warnings: Sub!Harry, Mommy!Kink Summary: After an exhausting week at work your temper is fried and you take it out on Harry. You make it up to him though. A/N: Thank you so much for all the love and support. Hit 300 followers yesterday and I just can't believe it. Thank you, thank you, thank you!!

Closing the front door with way too much force, I let my handbag fall to the floor as I leaned on the door and tried to calm down. Annoyance was bubbling inside of me as I thought about work. Slipping off my coat, I hung it up with a tired sigh.

“You’re home!” Harry said as he came running down the stairs. “What do you want for dinner? I can make anything you want!” he said excitedly as he came closer.

“Just give me a minute, Harry! I’m going to get out of these clothes and have a shower. I just need a second to myself, my boss has been a bitch all week and I just need to be alone right now, okay?!” I snapped at him as I marched up the stairs and into the bedroom. I barely heard the quiet little “yes, Mummy,” from Harry before I closed the door behind me.

Kicking off my shoes, I walked into the master bathroom and turned the shower on, letting the water get warm as I started taking off my clothes. Letting out a frustrated grunt as one of the buttons on my shirt was ripped off and bounced on the bathroom tiles till it came to a standstill just by the clothes hamper.

Sitting down on the edge of the bathtub, I sighed as I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Harry’s quiet little “yes, Mummy,” was ringing in my head as his dejected look was in the forefront of my mind. The more I thought about it, the more guilty I felt. Hell, if Harry had spoken to me like that I probably would’ve spanked him for it.

Standing up, I turned the shower off and headed out of the bathroom. Walking down the stairs, I followed the noise into the kitchen. “Hey,” I said softly as I stepped over to Harry, pressing a kiss to his back and noted that he was wearing one of my hoodies.

“I thought maybe you’d like some tea after your shower so you could enjoy it in bed or something,” Harry mumbled quietly as he stared at the kettle he’d filled up and turned on.

Sighing, I gave him a little hug before turning him around. “Thank you, baby. That’s so sweet of you,” I told him as I looked him over. He was chewing on one of the strings to my hoodie, he had bags under his eyes and his eyes were slightly red like he had been crying.

“I’m so sorry I snapped at you, that was so rude of me,” I told as I took the string out of his mouth and stroked his cheek with my thumb.

“It’s okay, you had a bad day,” he mumbled as he closed his eyes and leaned into my hand.

“It’s not okay. That’s not how we talk to each other no matter how sucky our day has been. I am really sorry, baby. You just wanted to say hi and I shut you down,” I gave him a little smile as I pulled him in for a tight hug. “You look very pretty in my hoodie,”

Harry wrapped his hands around me tightly as he put his head on my shoulder. “I just missed you so much this week I started putting on your clothes so I could smell like you,” he said quietly.

I rubbed his back gently as I felt myself tearing up. “Mummy’s been very busy this week, hasn’t she? Not spent a lot of time with you,”

“Yeah. Very busy so I missed you loads and loads,” Harry whimpered. “I, um was so excited for you to come home today cause it’s the weekend now so you don’t have to work, and neither do I,” he continued.

“And I greeted you by snapping at you, oh honey,” I said sadly, feeling awful. “I’m so excited to spend the next few days with you though. Just you and me,” I mused as I pulled back slightly and stroked his cheeks with my thumbs. “I love you, baby. I hope you never doubt that for even a second,” I told him as I looked him in the eyes.

Harry gave me a little smile. “I love you too,” he replied before jumping slightly as the kettle started whistling, letting us know it was done. “Do you want your tea now or after your shower?” he asked as he turned around and reached out for my favorite teacup.

“You know what? I think I’ll have it after I shower,” I hummed as I grabbed his hand, stopping him from grabbing the cup. “But I also think we should probably get a little bit messier first. Make sure that we really justify having a shower,” I said, pulling him in for a kiss

Our mouths were open as our lips pressed together. Just small kisses at first, pressing our lips together softly, both of us keeping our eyes closed. But steadily our kisses grew greedier. Longer. Harder.

Moving my hand to his hip, I snuck my hand under the hoodie he was wearing and stroked his bare skin, smirking against his lips as he shuddered.

“Mumma,” Harry whispered, raising his hands as I grabbed the bottom of the hoodie and took it off him.

“God, you’re so beautiful, baby,” I said as I ran my hands over his muscly chest, my eyes darting from tattoo to tattoo. Pulling him for a quick kiss, I took his hand and laced our fingers together. “Come on, we need a bed for all the things I want to do to you,” I told him with a grin.

Heading up the stairs quickly, I dragged him into the bedroom before pushing him onto the bed. I kept eye contact with him as I started unbuttoning my shirt. He was biting his lip as his eyes would dart down every now and then to have a look as I slowly got my shirt off.

Letting it fall to the floor, I stepped closer to the bed and grabbed the hem of his shorts and his boxers before pulling them down and off.

“I love you like this,” I teased as I looked down at him. “On your back, legs spread, hands lying by your side, eyes watching my every move,” I said while unbuttoning my slacks and opening the zipper. “Your cock resting against your stomach. Leaking and twitching as it gets harder and harder, begging to be touched. But you won’t touch will you?” I asked, pushing down my slacks.

Harry whimpered as he shook his head. “No, Mummy. I won’t,” he replied quickly, taking a shaky breath as I teased my fingertips over his cock.

“And why is that, baby?” I asked as I wrapped my fingers around it, just holding it as I looked at his face.

“Cause it belongs to you Mumma, so you decide if and when I get to touch it,” Harry muttered out, a nice blush spreading up from his chest to his face.

“That’s right. Good boy,” I praised him while stroking my thumb over his cock head. “You’ve been so patient and so good,” I smiled as his cock twitched in my hand while Harry moaned.

“I’ve been trying,” Harry mumbled, looking up at me as I let go of his cock and pushed my underwear down.

“Move to the middle of the bed, stay on your back,” I ordered him and watched as he eagerly shuffled around to get into position.

Getting up on the bed, I straddled his hips and let my pussy rest against his cock as I leaned down and started kissing him again. “You can touch, baby,” I whispered against his lips before using my teeth to pull on his bottom lip before kissing him hard.

Harry’s hands went straight to my hips and stroked over my thighs and back up my sides to squeeze my breasts. “Please, Mummy. Need you,” Harry said with a groan.

I had started moving my hips slightly, dragging my pussy lips over his cock, making it wet with my slick. “You want to fuck me, baby? Have your cock inside Mumma?” I asked with a slight smirk as I continued rubbing off against his cock.

“Yes, please! Been forever, please, want to fuck you so bad,” Harry whimpered as he grabbed my hips but he didn’t try and stop my movement or speed them up.

“It has been a while, Mummy has been too busy fucking you to let you fuck me,” I chuckled as I rose up on my knees slightly and put my hand down, and grasped Harry’s cock. Angling it up, I bit down on my lip as I slowly lowered myself down on him.

“Forgotten how big you are,” I groaned when finally had all of him in me.

“Forgotten how tight and warm and wet you are,” Harry whimpered as he squeezed his eyes shut. “Feel like I’m going to cum already, Mummy,” he whined.

I couldn’t help but laugh at his whining. “Well you better not cum just yet, pet,” I said and started moving my hips, putting my hands on his chest for stability. Moving my hips faster, I closed my eyes as I tried to find the right angle and pace. “Fuck,” I whispered and pulled off him quickly.

“What?” Harry asked confused and sat up slightly.

“You’re going to fuck me like this,” I told him as I lied down and spread my legs, my hands fondling my breasts before I reached down and stroked my clit slowly. “Well come on then,” I said as Harry still hadn’t moved.

“Yes, Mumma!” Harry said quickly as he got up on his knees and moved in between my legs. He looked me in the eyes as he slowly pushed his cock back into me.

“Good boy, that’s it. Now fuck Mummy hard, want to feel you for days,” I said while pulling him down for a kiss while wrapping my legs around him. We both moaned as Harry managed to push in even deeper.

“Love you, love your pussy so much,” Harry moaned as he started moving faster, putting his hands down for support so he could thrust in as deep as possible.

“Making me feel so good, baby. You going to cum inside me? Fill me up with your cum?” I asked with a moan, rubbing at my clit quickly as I looked at him. His arms were all flexed as he leaned on them and there was a slight layer of sweat on his chest. He looked so fucking sexy.

“Please,” he moaned and did a little nod before putting his head down and capturing one of my nipples in his mouth. Sucking on it eagerly, Harry kept on fucking into me fast.

Moaning, I grabbed onto his head and tugged on his hair. “Fuck, so good. Going to cum, don’t stop,” I gasped.

Harry flicked his tongue over my nipple and sucked hard. “Fucking fuck!” I screamed as I tightened my legs around him and pulled his head against my chest as my orgasm ripped through me. “Oh my god,” I moaned and pulled Harry up so I could kiss him.

“Need to cum, Mumma,” He mumbled as he snapped his hips back and forth. “Please? Can I?” he begged in between kisses.

“Go on, pet,” I panted and watched him closely as his eyes closed and his brows furrowed slightly. Yanking on his hair hard I clenched my pussy around his cock hoping to bring him over the edge.

“Mumma!” Harry gasped as he pushed in deep and held still as he moaned loudly, shooting his cum deep into me.

“Good boy, such a good boy for me,” I whispered as Harry lied down on top of me, whimpering as he pressed his face up against my neck. “Shhh, I got you,” I said softly while stroking his hair and back.

“I love you so much,” he said quietly, letting out a little sigh as he relaxed.

Smiling, I pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I love you too, baby,”

[be-gay-do-heists]

OKAY finally finished with eliot hand pain hurt/comfort fic, and i couldn’t actually decide whether i preferred it in second or third person POV. this is the version with the third person POV, otherwise nothing is different from the other version !

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Contrary to what the four crazy people he spent his time risking his life for nowadays thought, Eliot didn’t like the pain.

There was nothing cleansing about it, nothing satisfactory. A ringing hit to his jaw didn’t feel like penance. The actual protection aspect was a different story. Standing like a wall between your people and danger, there was nothing that made Eliot’s ribs ache with pleasure like that; a wall didn’t feel, didn’t think, it was just an immutable fact. He was an immutable fact. The problem was that the wall-as-Eliot, or perhaps the Eliot-as-wall, had to become human again sometime after the last man went down and the last dollar bill was stuffed into a duffel. To hurt was human, and not just to hurt but to remember the wound long, long after, for it to live in your knees and wrists and between the vertebrae in your spine. Some days— and this was a product of how long after a job it had been, how hard he had pushed—some days were worse than others. The fact that some days the first sound out of his mouth wasn’t even a groan, but a whine, or worse the half-awake pleading for please please make it stop i’ll do anything just make it stop—

No, Eliot didn’t like the pain.

Comparatively, today was a good day. Today, he could get out of bed. His head and body were blessedly in agreement that it was in his best interests to swing his twinging knees to the side of the mattress, push himself up onto legs that were sore but stable, with arms that shook only slightly. But compared to Eliot’s best days, the ones where except for the old shoulder injury which would never let him forget it and the scar on his hip that put a falter in his giddy-up in all kinds of weather, the days on which except for those he sometimes even forgot the pain, this didn’t hold a candle. Today his hands were so beat and weak that the ache radiated up to his mid-forearm, settled into him all familiar-like and made its home in him.

In the bathroom, Eliot used his wrist to turn on the faucet and stuck his mouth under the water to drink. Holding a cup was off the agenda. His morning routine was interspersed with winces, not unusual for his post-job bathroom adventures, and if it took Eliot longer to shimmy on the sweats he knew he wouldn’t be getting out of today, it made him appreciate the comfort of wearing them a little more.

Going handless was fine until he was face to face with the fridge, and resisting the urge to growl at it, like that would solve anything. Taking a deep breath, he put a hand on the stainless steel handle, testing his grip. A light flex had Eliot drawing it back like the metal had burned him, like someone had snapped a tight clothespin onto each ligament. He took a moment to pace a couple steps, let out a loud but cathartic expletive, and then wedge his hand between the handle and the door so he could open the fridge with his elbow strength. The feeling of triumph behind his collarbone faded quickly as the hitter scanned its contents and realized there was nothing he wanted to eat, or at least nothing he wanted to hold and eat. The thought of grasping a fork brought another growl to his throat, and he slammed the fridge door to stomp to the couch and throw himself down, cradling his hands in his lap.

Eliot knew the drill: in an hour, he would grit his teeth and get to up to try and fumble open his bottle of painkillers, and if he succeeded, he would wait another hour for them to truly kick in so he could handle the tv remote, put on whatever game was on, and vegetate on the couch until further notice. The phone he had left on the nightstand rang loudly, fully audible from the other room, blaring out the chorus to “Macho Man” that Hardison had put as his ringtone and Eliot hadn’t figured out how to get rid of yet. If it was important, whoever it was would call again, so he ignored it. His ire rose when the same noise sang out from the bedroom a couple minutes later, a bit-off groan escaping from his clenched teeth as he levered himself up to get to it as fast as he could, awkwardly accepting the call and maneuvering the phone between his shoulder and ear. “What?”

“Man, we haven’t heard from you since we split yesterday, I thought we were gonna get a beer downstairs last night?”

He rubbed his eyes with his wrist, frustrated that he had forgotten he was supposed to get together with Hardison the night before. Getting home, washing the sweat and blood off, and falling into bed had seemed like the only goal in his mind. “Look, sorry, I’ve been busy. And if this ain’t important, you—“

“Bullshit. Absolute bullshit, you’re using your tough-guy, bullshit voice. And you actually apologized, so something is double wrong.”

Eliot snarled. “I don’t have— Hardison, I don’t know what you’re talking about, just leave me alone.”

“Too late, we’re already at your place.”

Before he could open his mouth, his doorbell rang, drawing a groan from him. If he was correct about who the “we” was, it seemed silly to even ring it. His suspicions were confirmed thirty seconds later as the door clicked open anyways and Parker and Hardison came in, having the decency to at least look slightly sheepish. Eliot had already moved back to the couch, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. “Make yourself at home, why don’t you,” he growled.

“Excuse us for being worried about your wellbeing, Mr. Suffer-In-Silence,” Hardison scoffed.

Parker leapt onto the couch cushion next to him. “We thought you might have been captured by ninjas.”

“You would know if I had been captured by ninjas,” Eliot muttered. “It’s a very dis— look, you’ve seen that I’m not kidnapped, it’s our day off, can you please leave and let me rest.”

“You still owe us a hangout from last night!” Parker chirped. “Don’t worry, we won’t stay long.” She vaulted back over the couch to go rummage through his snack cabinets, getting into the granola bin by the sound of it. Eliot made a note to restock it before she came back next.

When he next opened his eyes, Hardison was lightly sitting on his coffee table, looking at the hands still resting in the hitter’s lap. “What’s up with your hands, Eliot?”

Eliot’s first instinct was to deflect. He trusted his team, sure, but this was different. They weren’t supposed to know that he had these days. That he wasn’t invulnerable. “Nothing’s wrong with them, stop sitting on my coffee table.”

“Mhm mhm, sure,” Hardison said. “Go like this for me?” He wiggled his fingers in a “hey sailor” kind of fashion. Before Eliot could tell him just what he thought about that, Parker’s ponytail swung into the side of his face, the thief reaching down to poke one of his hands faster than he could stop her.

By the time Eliot was able to refocus and pull himself back from the whiteout of pain, Parker and Hardison were looking at him with open concern, the hacker leaning back slightly, a little pale. Eliot thought he might have howled; he wasn’t sure. Both his hands were clenched tightly to his chest, wrists together, arms outward, wishbone shaped. He felt just as brittle as one, with their stares on him. He summoned the anger from his throat, the only weapon at his disposal (only half-expecting that it would work, always defenseless when it came to their prodding).

“Can you leave me the hell alone now?”

Hardison looked at him, taking his time formulating his thoughts, but it was Parker who spoke. “Nope.” Eliot turned to her where she was perched on the couch. “You get hurt taking care of us. Now you let us take care of you.”

Eliot looked at Hardison pleadingly, hoping he at least would take pity on him and let him wallow by himself. The hitter wanted to hide like the trap-escaped, half-dead badger whose den he had accidentally put his foot into half a lifetime ago in the Italian Alps, earning him an earful of hissing that scared the shit out of him. He wondered if he seemed as belligerent as that now.

Hardison just shrugged and smiled gently. “Hey, you heard the woman.” He leaned forward slightly, just enough in Eliot’s space to let him feel his warm presence without crowding. “Couldn’t get rid of us if you tried.”

He didn’t want to try, was the thing. It was only that it wasn’t their job to take care of him. It was his to take care of them. They just seemed to be wholly unaware of this.

“You taken anything for those yet?” Hardison asked, pointing at his hands. He hummed at Eliot’s slight head shake. “Thought so. Which ones?”

“White bottle, red pills. Only need a half,” Eliot mumbled, slouching. Parker was already up and heading to the bathroom.

“We need to get something you can actually open when this happens, some kind of spring-loaded catch maybe,” Hardison mused. “Alright, let me see them.” He patted his legs, frowning at Eliot’s growl. “C’mon, none of that. I know they hurt, I’ll be really, really gentle. I won’t even touch without asking.”

Eliot looked him in the eye for the sincerity he already knew would be there, the eagerness to help that (damn him) was one of his favorite traits of Hardison’s. Hesitantly, he extended his hands, rolling his eyes at the hacker scooting forward to offer his knees to rest them on.

“I assume you got antiseptic and ointment on these knuckles already, so totally disregarding those, even though it sucks. Nothing broken?”

“No, just. Aches. Like a son of a bitch. Can’t make a damn fist. Happens sometimes.”

Parker bounded back in, armed with a glass of water and half a pill in her open hand. “So no jobs for a while. Easy, I’ll tell Nate. Open up.” With a scowl, Eliot took the medication from her fingers with his teeth (gently, gently), and let her raise the glass to his lips, nearly choking as she tipped it a little eagerly, and choking for real when Hardison said, “Whoa, woman, let him swallow.”

“It’s not just the last job, Park, it’s jobs two years ago, or five, or ten,” Eliot managed, once he had his breath back. “Part of the package that comes with the lifestyle. It just happens sometimes, don’t matter what schedule we’re on.”

She frowned. “Still. We shouldn’t be doing jobs if you’re hurt. Nate should know that.”

Hardison leaned forward a little more while he was distracted trying to find the right response to that, that they wouldn’t be doing any jobs at all if that were the case, that Nate trusted him to get the job done no matter what, reaching out to his forearm and stopping just a hair’s breadth shy of touching. The hitter froze, and Hardison did too, meeting his eyes. “It’s ok. I’m just trying something out. Is it alright if I touch you here?” At his tiniest of nods, the hacker placed his fingertips on his arm, rubbing circles so lightly that Eliot almost couldn’t feel it. “Let me know where it starts to hurt, okay?” Hardison applied the slightest pressure as he added his other hand and lightly started rubbing down his forearm. When he got to his wrist, Eliot couldn’t help the strangled noise that partly escaped through his nose, high and strained. Hardison moved away from there immediately, going back to tracing soothing, gentle patterns. “You’re ok, you’re ok. I can work with this, no problem. Where do you keep your hot pads, man?”

“Bathroom, lower right drawer,” Eliot grit out. Parker was zipping off to get it and warm it up before he could even process. Hardison applied a little more pressure with his fingertips, rubbing the meat of his forearm. Eliot breathed out long and slow at how good it felt once the initial ache had ebbed.

“I want to try giving you a hand massage, but I don’t wanna hurt you more than it would help,” Hardison said, pausing slightly. “You up for it? I’m not gonna pressure you either way.”

Eliot’s thoughts stuttered, and then bolted in different directions. The feeling that he didn’t deserve this, that this was too much to ask, which had been simmering this whole time leapt to life again. It joined with the wounded, snarling animal part of him that still wanted to hide, burrow down with the covers over his head until his pain faded into the muted background noise of the world. He didn’t even know if a hand massage would work, might make the pain worse.

But it might be nice, a small, hopeful part of him murmured. Eliot couldn’t remember the last time he had been offered something like this, let alone the last time he had taken the person up. If there was anyone he trusted to do it, if there was anyone he wanted to receive it from, it was these two. How could he refuse them even he wasn’t fully on board with what they were suggesting?

“Sure, just…” Eliot said as Parker returned with the hot pad, pausing from tossing it hand to hand like a hot potato to fix her stare on him. He licked his lips, swallowed around a dry throat. “Just be gentle.”

“I will,” Hardison said earnestly, taking the hot pad from Parker to gently maneuver it under Eliot’s hands, resting on his knees. Eliot tensed slightly as the thief leapt up onto the back of the couch, perching above his head, but otherwise relaxed as the warmth of the hot pad started to loosen the ache in his hands. Hardison started where he had before, applying the slightest pressure to the hitter’s forearm. Parker ran her fingertips lightly through his hair, humming.

“Your hair is kinda wonky,” she said, fingers catching on a tangle. Eliot winced.

“That’s what happens when you go to bed without brushing it properly, you know that,” he grumbled, breath hitching as her fingertips grazed his scalp. His breath stuttered again as Hardison’s hands started working towards the sore meat of his wrist. Eliot’s hand began to shake.

“It’s ok baby, I got you,” Hardison murmured under his breath, more soothing sound than words. Eliot cracked open an eye to see him looking between his hands and his phone, playing a video where it was propped on his thigh.

“Man, are you watching hand massage tutorials right now?” he gritted out, doing a poor job of masking his genuine amusement with frustrated disbelief.

The hacker tapped his index finger against Eliot’s arm lightly. “I’ve been watching videos dude; think you’re so slick, tryna hide your hand pain from me. I just wanna make sure I get it right in real time.”

Parker’s fingers running through Eliot’s hair more boldly silenced any follow-up thoughts he had, mind going fuzzy with how good it felt. Without thinking, he insistently pushed his head up further into her touch, making her laugh. The sound reverberated in his chest, leaving him longing to hear it again. Instead a half-whine left his throat as Hardison probed the bottom of Eliot’s palm, the ache drawing him back to full awareness.

The hacker backed off for a moment. “Sorry, sorry. You still cool to keep going?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eliot breathed shakily.

“Just tell me if there’s anyplace else that needs to be handled more delicately, or you don’t want me going at all,” Hardison said, putting his clever hands to Eliot’s again and taking up his gentle, slow pace. Parker’s fingers had paused in his hair a second, but went back to running through it again, scratching his scalp on every other pass.

Slowly, slowly, the vice of pain on Eliot’s hands started to dissipate, bone by bone, finger by finger. He don’t know how long he sat there in a haze, as Hardison and Parker patiently touched him, fixated on the single task of caring for him. The thought made the tender space behind his breastbone twinge. When he surfaced from the half-asleep contentment of their efforts, the television was on, Star Trek playing at the lowest volume. Eliot grunted, lifting his head from the couch to look at the two of them sitting beside him, grinning at his movements. Hardison’s warm hand was still in his, but instead of massaging he was just holding it softly.

“Hey sleepy,” teased Parker, throwing herself over Hardison to get closer and forcing an “Oof!” out of him.

Eliot looked down to his hands, flexing one experimentally, in disbelief at how the ache had faded to an almost imperceptible hum. With the other he tightened his fingers around Hardison’s hand, moving his thumb lightly over his.

“Hey,” Eliot simply said back, a real smile rising to his lips.

[ragingbookdragon]

It's Who We Are Underneath That Defines Us

Kyle Rayner x Batsis One-Shot

Word Count: 1.9K Warnings: Explicit Language, Slight Angst

Author's Note: Really gotta make the story where the Batfamily learns she and GL are dating. Enjoy! -Thorne

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“Hey babe?”

She hummed absentmindedly, her eyes still trained to the stars above. “Yeah, Kyle?” Fingers twitched against her palm, then laced with her own; a heartbeat pounded against her skin, like a pulsing speaker, causing her to look over at him. “Is everything alright?”

Evergreen eyes met hers and he murmured, “Do you ever think about what life would be like if you weren’t a superhero?”

She blinked, the question giving her a slight pause. Leaning closer, she propped her chin in his shoulder and teased, “Thinking about how you could’ve had an apple pie and picket fence life, Kyle?”

A grin crossed his lips and he glanced over at her. “To be honest with you, (Y/N), I’m more of a cherry pie kinda man.” His gaze dropped, and his eyes roamed her body. “Blame Warrant on that one.” She rolled her eyes, but the laugh she gave him showed her amusement. Kyle paused, his gaze searching her face. “But back to my original question...what do you think you’d be doing if you weren’t a vigilante?”

(Y/N) inhaled deeply, rolling away from his shoulder and laid on her back, her eyes scanning the immense field of stars above them. “I don’t know, honestly. I’ve never really given it much thought.” Raising her hand, she traced the scars across her expanse of her arm with her eyes. “I’ve been training to be a vigilante since I was ten years old...helping people is all I’ve ever really wanted to do with life.”

She looked back over at him. “But since you asked, if I wasn’t a vigilante, I’d probably be a stuck-up rich bitch who overcharges her dad’s credit cards and throws hissy fits when she gets told no.” Kyle snorted, and she giggled.

After a moment of silence, he looked to her and asked, “Would you ever change anything you’ve done?”

The question he’d given her had been one she’s asked herself so many times. What if’s rising to the tongue of a girl too afraid to choose a path other than that of the least resistance, but ultimately keeping them contained and taking the hardest ones anyway. (Y/N) bit her lip slightly, the memories of every mistake, every wrong choice, flashing behind her eyes like lightning in a storm. The fingers laced though hers squeezed gently, dragging her from them, and she glanced back over, her eyes tracing the wisps of hair at his temples that had fallen from the gel he’d put in it earlier.

She blinked, then gave him a smile, her voice soft as she replied, “No...I don’t think I would change a single thing.”

Kyle’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion and he questioned, “Why not? Hasn’t there been a time where you’ve screwed up monumentally and couldn’t change it?”

(Y/N) watched him carefully, the words toying with the tip of her tongue as she asked calmly, “Are you talking about what happened to Alex?”

His face momentarily darkened, a mixture of anger, hate, and self-loathing, then it fell, and she saw the pain and regret in his eyes and heard it in his voice as he muttered, “I’m talking about everything that I’ve done wrong.” He sat up, resting his elbows on his knees, the heel of his tennis shoes scraping against the brick of the roof. He let out a heavy sigh, causing her heart to tighten, and she rose beside him, curling her arm through his.

They stared at the city across the water, then she murmured, “When I was sixteen, I accidentally shoved someone over a support beam during a fight.” He eyed her, silently wondering what had happened and just what the hell this had to do with his issues. “Didn't mean to, of course. But he grabbed me from behind, and I did what I'd been trained to do—react. I freed myself and made the distance between us. But I misjudged the force of my kick and he tumbled over and down about a hundred feet onto concrete.”

She paused, thumb rubbing the back of his hand. “When my family and friends saw what I’d done, even if it were an accident, a lot of them decided to keep me at an arm's length. ‘She might kill again’, they said, ‘If she’s killed once, she’ll do it again...there’s no way we can trust her anymore.’ Eventually, I stopped patrolling with the Titans and Teen Titans. Hell, I even stopped helping the Justice League. I did my own thing by myself because no one trusted me anymore. ‘Til this day, there are some people within the superhero community who shun me and don’t trust me. And at every meeting, somehow, someway, it's always brought up.”

(Y/N) looked over at him, squeezing his hand again. “Wherever I go, whatever I do, that follows me. It’s never going to be let go, and it’s certainly never going to be forgotten. However, despite those problems and feelings, and what occurred in the past, that accident doesn't define meor my actions. Yes, I unintentionally took someone’s life, but I’m not a murderer. I carry that burden with me, and I always will and while I can't change what happened, it drives me to make sure that I don't make the same mistake again.”

She let go of his hand, slipping her legs on either side of his body, her hands coming up to cup his cheeks; she caressed his cheekbones with her thumbs, staring into his eyes, and mustered the sincerest voice she could. “Kyle, what you’ve gone through, the people you’ve lost, the people you’ve saved, and the friends you’ve gathered along the way? That’s not who you are...it’s what you do with it that defines who you are.” His eyes widened slightly, and his lips parted to speak, but no words fell from them.

(Y/N) gave him a warm smile and leaned forward, pressing her lips against his forehead; she pulled back and murmured, “It may not mean much, but I'm proud of you, Kyle. You make me proud every single day.” She watched him exhale shakily, and she swore she could see the damn inside him breaking as he lowered his head, his arms reaching to pull her against him.

She shifted, perching in his lap, and let him bury his face in her neck. Kyle let out a breath, but it felt more like a soft sob, and heat blossomed against her skin where his lips touched.

He let out a sound, crossing between a groan and grunt as he told her, “I love you, (Y/N).”

She hummed, wrapping her arms around his neck, her lips brushing his temple. “I love you too, Kyle.”

They stayed that way for a few minutes, simply holding the other. Providing the anchors needed to keep their spirits alive. Eventually, (Y/N) pulled back and dragged his face away from her neck, huffing a laugh when he whined lowly from the loss of contact.

She reached up and wiped his face. “You look like a kid who was told no to ice-cream before dinner.”

Kyle let out a chuckle, moving her hands away and rubbing at his face vigorously. She climbed out of his lap and sat beside him once more, and he looked over at her wondering, “How do you manage to stay so positive outside the mask? To be the same person in costume and out?”

(Y/N) went silent, thinking for a moment, then she said, “A few years ago, I asked my dad the same thing, and he told me, ‘It doesn't matter who we are underneath the costume or out in the real world...it’s what we do in or out that defines us. If the person you claim to be isn’t the same person inside and outside of uniform, you don’t need to be wearing it.’” She glanced back over at him, nudging him in the ribs. “Don't worry about it though, you’re still a dork inside and out of G.L.”

Kyle let out an amused scoff, placing a hand against his chest. “I can't believe you would insult your boyfriend like that. A dork? I’m hurt.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, looking back at the city. “Kyle, you doodle in the middle of J.L. meetings, and it’s usually caricatures of my dad strangling Hal, the Joker, Jason, or Dick…typically it depends on what’s going on during the meetings and who’s been a pain in his ass for it.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but shut it, then raised a pointer finger at her. “Alright, you have me there.”

(Y/N) looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. “Of course I have you there, Dork Lantern...” She gave him a grin, wiggling her eyebrows and quipped, “I sit and doodle with you.” The two of them laughed, and she rested her head on his shoulder, letting out a sigh. “I could stay with you here forever.”

Kyle nodded, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Me too.”

A moment of silence passed them, and as they were enjoying it, a voice called out, “Oi! Kyle! Queenie! Are you guys up there!”

She let out a groan, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “So help me God, I can’t enjoy anything without dumb and dumber sticking their noses into it.”

Kyle looked over at her, his eyebrows furrowing as he pointed out, “But there’s only one?”

(Y/N) raised a hand in a ‘wait’ motion, then she waved it and, “Of course they’re up there Little-wing. The roof is where all the teens go to make out.”

Her eye twitched, and she leaned over the ledge, shouting, “The only person who’s made out on the roof is you, Dick. And it was with Kori after you guys broke up...AGAIN.”

A scoff sounded below followed by, “Hit me where it hurts why don't you!” She rolled her eyes, huffing, then he asked, “Is Kyle up there with you?”

“And what’s it to you?”

“Just wanted to make sure you guys are acting appropriate.”

“Dick...I am older than you. Kyle and I are both older than you.”

“So?”

(Y/N) turned to Kyle and mouthed, ‘Wanna get out of here?’ He flashed her a grin, then a strike of green blinded her, and he stood before her in his Green Lantern suit. He held out his hand. A beam of green light surrounded them, and a moment later, (Y/N) felt herself drop into a seat. She looked around, a grin appearing on her lips as she ran her hand along the dash of the constructed car.

“Kyle, are you trying to woo me with my love of nice cars?”

He matched her grin, laying his unoccupied arm across the seats. “I don't know...is it working?”

She nodded, sliding over into his side. “Yes. It is.” He chuckled, and they started moving, leaving her two brothers yelling for them.

“Kyle! Are you letting (Y/N) ride in the Green Machine?! You never let me do that!”

“(Y/N)’s my girlfriend, Jason!”

“I’M YOUR FUCKING BEST FRIEND! WHAT EVEN!”

She leaned across Kyle, glaring at Dick and Jason. “Go do something productive with your time, losers.”

“I am hurt, Jellybean! I thought you loved me!”

“Only when I can get something out of it!” (Y/N) glanced at Kyle and grinned. “Hit the gas G.L. Don't let ‘em catch the taillights.” He smirked, and they waved as they left Wayne Manor behind them.

[seongsangi]

playing games

pairing: jaehyun x reader x jaemin

summary: you meet jaehyun and jaemin for the first time at a lake house during summer break. they quickly take a liking to you, pulling you into a game you don't want to lose.

word count: 8.2k+

genre: more smutttt

warnings/tags: a little bit of drinking, this one’s kinda nasty (in a good way)...

You and your best friend went to different colleges, but you kept in touch with each other every day. It was hard not seeing her all the time like you used to, so you and her would spend time together every summer and winter break. Sometimes she'd come home and sometimes you'd take a trip up to see her. This summer break, it was your turn to visit her and spend a few weeks together before coming back home.

As the days passed by just enjoying each other's company at her cozy studio apartment, she gets a text from her friends from school. They want to go to a lake house and spend a week there with a group of friends. It'll be 8 people in total: you, your friend, her two other girl friends (call them S and M), and a few guys named Jaehyun, Jaemin, Lucas, Taeyong, and Johnny. You told your friend that you might feel a little awkward around them, especially since you've never met them before but she assures you that they're all easy to get along with and they love meeting new people.

"Trust me, you'll love them! Don't be shyyy, would you rather stay here with me in my boring apartment or you wanna go to the lake?" You sigh, admitting that having a little getaway in a lakehouse does sound like fun.

You all plan to meet up the next day and take two cars, guys and girls riding separately. The drive is two hours away, but you quickly become friends with the girls in the car, playing loud music as you drive down the highway singing your hearts out and talking about the guys riding in the car behind them.

Your friend slips that S and M have crushes on Johnny and Taeyong and that's mainly the reason why they planned this getaway.

"What the hell, so you didn't tell Y/N that you like Lucas?" One of them asks defensively. You look at your friend in disbelief because she didn't mention that she liked anyone, much less someone you're going on a trip with!

"BITCH WHO IS LUCAS TELL ME ALL ABOUT HIM??" You quickly badger your friend, now excited to meet the guy she likes and has been keeping a secret from you. You're not mad about it, you're more happy for her that she finally found someone.

"Chilllll, I don't like him like thattt," she drags, obviously lying. "But I do like being around him... he's so hot but such a dork at the same time and makes me feel all giddy whenever I'm with him or talk to him."

"Do you think he likes you back?" you ask.

"I don't know, maybe? I haven't asked but we do talk quite a bit so the feeling might be mutual. Damn, I don't know, I guess I'll take my chances and find out this week," she winks at you and you're already egging her on. You were so pumped to meet the guys they like.

You ask, "What about the other two guys? Jaehyun and Jaemin?" They were too busy talking about their own crushes that no one mentioned them.

"They're cool, we don't have anything against them, I just like Taeyong more," S chimes in and you swear you could see her turn into the heart eyes emoji.

"Yeah, those guys hang out in their own circle, they're always together so we invited everyone to hang out. I would have felt weird if I didn't invite them too," M adds.

Your friend nudges you with her elbow, "They're both single... you never know what could happen." She's always teasing you, and you slap her arm. Everyone laughs, thinking nothing more of it.

Once you get to the lake house, you're shocked by how nice it looks just on the outside. And the inside is to die for. There are five bedrooms and three bathrooms. Jaehyun and Jaemin in one room while Johnny, Lucas, and Taeyong in another. You and your friend share one, while S and M in another. There'll be an extra master bedroom not used by anyone, presumably where M's parents would stay when they come up here. The bathrooms look like they came straight out of a home makeover show. You note that M's parents must be loaded to have such an extravagant place. As you walk around the house, you notice there's a boat in the garage.

"You didn't tell us you had a boat!" You say to her, eager to get out on the lake already.

"Oh, shit I didn't? Go get dressed, we'll take it for a spin when the guys get here." You set your stuff down in the room you share with your best friend, and put on the cute new royal blue bathing suit you bought for the occasion, your favorite color.

"Damnnn, that looks good as hell on you," your best friend comments, making you shy. "You might just steal all our men while you're here," she teases. You both laugh it off, hyping your friend up when she puts on her pink bathing suit and head out to the back.

Just then, the guys pull up and you and your friend walk to their car to introduce yourself. As they get out of the car, you're stunned by how good looking they all are. You've never seen a group of guys that attractive. You can definitely see why the girls fell for them.

"Finally, you're here!" Your friend yells, giving them all a hug as you stand by. "We're about to get on the boat, so go get dressed. But first, this is my best friend Y/N! She's from my hometown and she's visiting me right now so she came along too."

You exchange greetings with everyone, trying to remember their names since this is the first time you're meeting them. You pay special attention to Lucas since he's the one your best friend has her eyes on, and you can't blame her. He's hella tall, has a gorgeous smile, contagious laugh, and his voice is much deeper than you expected it to be. Johnny is the tallest one and he's got a cute smile that could draw any girl in. Taeyong has these sharp eyes that you could get lost in and see why S is all heart eyes for him.

Jaehyun and Jaemin are the two that really catch your eye though. Jaehyun has deep dimples that make your heart swoon and Jaemin beams down at you with a bright smile to match that perfect face of his, you swear he's not even real. Neither of them seem real to you, and you suddenly feel nervous again. You know the other three guys are off limits but you know these two are single, suddenly becoming very aware that while everyone else is trying to get in each other's pants, you three don't have any attraction towards each other. You tell yourself it's gonna be awkward around these three couples.

As the boys are unloading their stuff from the car, you and your friend head to the garage where S and M are waiting. You don't notice the way Jaehyun and Jaemin look at each other before they turn their gaze to you, thinking to themselves that this trip might not be bad after all.

Lucas and Jaehyun brought out a cooler full of drinks, obviously ready to get the party started. "Someone's gotta drive the boat though, so they can't drink." You all play rock paper scissors, and Johnny ends up having to drive. You can tell he's super disappointed about not being able to drink.

"You lost, Suh, now take us out on the lake." Lucas mocks, popping open a can of beer and teasing Johnny. He cranks up the music and everyone gets to chatting with one another. You love the way the wind whips past you as Johnny speeds up. You take in the beautiful view of the blue water, stretching as far as you can see. Houses are lined along the shore, taking notice of how extravagant each of them look. The sun is hot and beaming right on you from where you're sitting at the front of the boat with no shade. You pull out some sunscreen from your bag, not wanting to get burned as you so easily do.

"Oh, damn I forgot mine. Could I get some of yours?" Jaehyun asks across from you. You hand it to him with a soft smile, and his hand brushes past yours as he reaches for it. You're sure that wouldn't have happened with the way you handed it to him unless he did it on purpose, but you shrug it off. As he's putting the sunscreen on, you can't help but take a longer look at him, noticing his defined abs and beautiful skin. He's quite literally glowing, but you don't know if it's the sun or if that's how he actually looks...

He looks up for a second and you quickly turn your head away, not trying to get caught staring at someone you just met 10 minutes ago.

"Where'd you get this from?" Jaemin asks as Jaehyun hands the tube to him. 

"Y/N let me borrow it, put some on unless you wanna get burned." Jaemin takes his shirt off before lathering the sunscreen on, and again, you're staring at someone you just met 10 minutes ago. Jaemin is less toned than Jaehyun, but he's got broad shoulders that you can't help but look at. Jaehyun is looking off into the distance, and Jaemin is too busy putting sunscreen on that neither of them notice your eyes darting back and forth between the two. You don't know who you're more interested in, but from the way they look right now, it might just be both...

"Y/N!!! Want a drink?" She holds up a bottle of Ciroq and you're having a flashback to the last time you went on a boat ride.  

"Bitch, you know what happened last time," you yell back at her. She laughs, clearly remembering. "Just don't drink so much this time!" You comply, taking a quick swig of the bottle instead of opting for a mixed drink. A few sips wouldn't hurt, you tell yourself.

"Can you pour us some?" Jaemin asks, holding his and Jaehyun's cup out, half full of Sprite already.

"Tell me when," you say as you start pouring. He doesn't say when until both their cups are half Sprite, half Ciroq.

"Damn, that's a lot though," you comment, knowing you wouldn't be able to handle what they're having. They both just laugh as you give the bottle back to your friend and take your seat again across from them.

"So tell us about what happened last time," Jaehyun says to you, intrigued to hear your story. You suddenly feel embarrassed, not wanting to tell them how much you drank and how messed up you were afterwards. It's not a time you would like to go back to, but you can't say you didn't have good laughs thinking about it afterwards. You tell them what happened and they're in disbelief, laughing with you over how silly the story sounds. You got so drunk off the green apple that you were crying the entire car ride home. You don't even know what you were crying about, that's just how fucked up you were.

"You only took like three swigs and you were THAT fucked up?" Jaehyun asks, already halfway through his drink. You're staring at him like HE'S the crazy one, drinking so much in such a short time.

"Yeah, well, I've never been good at handling my alcohol. Give me that, you can't have any more, you're gonna end up like me." You reach to grab his drink out of his hands but he holds it away from him and you almost fall on top of him. He laughs as you stumble, taking another swig and boasting that he's pretty good with drinking.

"We both are, unlike someone," Jaemin teases, obviously talking about you. You roll your eyes at the remark, feigning annoyance before you successfully grab Jaemin's cup from his hand since you couldn't get Jaehyun's.

"I made half the drink for you, I think I can have it now," you say with a smile, teasing him back. He stares at you as you take a drink from his cup, keeping your eyes locked on him so you can feel like you got the upper hand. You feel more comfortable with them now even though you haven't been here for long. I guess people really can bond over drinks.

The boat comes to a halt and Johnny announces, "If anyone wants to go swim, do it now. We're just gonna chill here for a bit." Taeyong, Lucas, Johnny, and the girls are excited, finally getting a chance to get in the water.

"Are you gonna go?" Jaehyun asks, nodding his head to the group of people jumping into the water.

"No, I can't swim. Are you guys gonna go?" Jaehyun shakes his head while Jaemin is getting revved up to jump in the water too. You watch him as he dives in and comes back up, hair wet and that beautiful smile on his face. You turn your body around to face the crowd, watching them splash each other and have a good time, leaving Jaehyun to admire you without you knowing. He's tracing the curves of your body, loving the way the royal blue looks on you. He's only seen you in one outfit, but he's sure that color suits you the best. He's staring hard, and he's glad no one can see the way he's devouring you with his eyes. He gets up and stands next to you, resting his hands on the edge of the boat, watching all his friends but he just wanted an excuse to get closer to you.

Your best friend swims towards the boat and suddenly splashes water at you, laughing as you retreat from her attack. Everyone else joins in, splashing water into the boat at you and Jaehyun since neither of you were getting in the water.

"Stop, you're getting everything wet!" You yell at them, throwing your bag to the other side to protect your belongings. They eventually stop and go back to swimming, leaving you and Jaehyun to wipe the seats down. You decide if you weren't going to swim, then you were going to have fun in your own way. You down the rest of Jaemin's drink as Jaehyun stares at you incredulously. "Hold on, don't go too crazy."

You make your way to the cooler, grabbing a Seagram and telling him not to worry. "I'm a big girl, I can handle this much," you smile at him. You both take your seats as everyone starts to get on the boat again. The sun is starting to set and Johnny makes his way back to the house. Jaemin approaches his seat, wiping his body and hair with the towel he brought, looking a little too good with wet hair.

"The water was so cold at first," he says, telling Jaehyun he should have went in.

"I didn't want to leave Y/N alone," he says so you couldn't hear. Jaemin catches on quickly, knowing that Jaehyun has taken a bit of a liking to you. He watches as you stare at the water and lets his eyes roam your body, much like Jaehyun did earlier. He can see why Jaehyun would be a bit attracted to you, he couldn't help but feel a little pull himself. The way your bathing suit accentuates your breasts has him imagining all sorts of things.

"Y/N, did you have fun today?" Jaemin calls out to you, drawing you from your thoughts. You turn a bit too fast to look at them and you can tell the alcohol is kicking in. Your head feels heavy and the boat is moving so fast, you don't know if you can keep up. You don't feel as drunk as you did last time, but you're definitely feeling something.

"Yeah, I had fun," you reply, finishing the last of your drink and getting up to throw it away in the trash bag someone brought along. You can't tell if you're wobbly because the boat is moving or if it's because you're actually wobbly from the drinks. "Oh shit, maybe I shouldn't have drank Jaemin's drink," you laugh at Jaehyun, who shakes his head in an "I told you so" manner.

"You drank it all? There was still a lot left," Jaemin asks in disbelief. "You were just telling us you're bad with alcohol." "What can I say? I already drank it all," you shrug at him with a smile.

"You're crazy," he laughs, "but we'll take good care of you if you want."

You don't know what he means by that, but you're imagining it's not as innocent as it may seem.

When you make your way back to the house, everyone heads off to shower. You all meet downstairs afterwards. S and M are making dinner with the help of Johnny and Taeyong. You see your best friend and Lucas on the couch, watching something on TV. You don't see Jaehyun or Jaemin, thinking they're probably still in their room. 

Wait, they didn't give me back my sunscreen. You head upstairs to their room and knock on the door, to which someone says "It's open." You peek into the room and see Jaehyun lounging on the bed and Jaemin in the bathroom with the door wide open. He's only dressed in a towel and wiping his hair, presumably fresh out the shower. You avert your eyes quickly, not wanting to stare for any longer than you have to. Jaehyun perks up at the sight of you and asks what's up.

"Uh, I just wanted to ask for my sunscreen," you say from the door, not wanting to step fully into their room.

"Oh, it's in our bag somewhere, just come in, I'll get it for you." Jaehyun hops off the bed and turns to the bathroom to look for it. You walk in and stand awkwardly by the door. Jaemin comes out and you're trying your best not to gawk at him, knowing he's got nothing but a towel on. He smirks, and you can just feel it without even looking at him. You watch the TV and notice some movie is on. "Jaehyun, are you watching Insidious?" you ask him, trying to distract yourself from the fine ass man in your periphery. It's one of your favorite horror movies and you'd recognize it anywhere.

"Yeah it was just playing so I was watching it. I think I left it on the boat, sorry about that. I'll get it for you tomorrow," he says, coming back into the room. "It's okay! Sooo, can I watch the movie with you?" He hums in agreement, jumping back in bed as you sit on the edge, not wanting to get too close to him. Jaemin comes into view fully dressed this time, thank goodness. He lays in bed next to Jaehyun and all three of you watch. The part that scared you the most when you first watched it is about to come up, and you cover your eyes.

"I like scary movies but I still cover my eyes when I know something's about to happen," you say out loud to them. Sneaky Jaemin is inching closer to you, waiting for the scene you're talking about to come up. He grabs you and screams at the same time the scene you're dreading pops up, making you jump and scream even louder. Your heart races and you yell "What the fuck, Jaemin!" The two are laughing at your reaction and you slap him on his arm.

"You can't tell me that wasn't funny," he mocks you and you're ready to beat his ass before you hear someone yell "dinner's ready." You storm out of their room embarrassed.

The next few days you guys spend together are filled with the same antics, Jaemin teasing you and Jaehyun laughing at everything you two do. You're getting real tired of both of them at this point, Jaemin for never leaving you alone and Jaehyun for egging him on every time. But you can't say you don't enjoy spending time with them. They always manage to make you laugh even if they do frustrate the hell out of you sometimes. You find yourself gravitating towards them, since the other couples are also focused on themselves. You didn't want to cockblock anyone, so you let them have their alone time together whenever you saw them around the house. You notice your best friend leaves your shared room late at night, gone for a few hours doing who knows what with Lucas.

Jaemin was always getting on your nerves, jump scaring you every chance he got. When you turn a corner, he'd be there to surprise you. When you turn around and almost bump into him, he'd tell you to watch where you're going but it's obvious he was the one getting in your way. You've thrown so many punches his way to get him to stop messing with you, but he just says it's fun every single time with that annoying ass perfect smile of his. Jaehyun on the other hand was more flirty with you and you've definitely noticed. He wasn't exactly being subtle with it either. He'd say "good morning beautiful" to you when he got the chance, or he'd always choose the seat next to you when there are plenty of other ones open. He'd smile at you with those cute ass dimples and you'd look away quickly, not wanting to fall for his charm. His hand would brush against yours or he'd hold your waist to get past you, feigning an "excuse me" just to touch you. You'd look up and catch him staring at you, and he doesn't even look away when you notice. It's like he's challenging you, knowing he's getting under your skin and making you feel some type of way.

One evening, you wake up from a nap to a quiet house. A text from your best friend says they went out to get food for dinner and it's just you, Jaehyun, and Jaemin at home. You dread it already, you don't even want to be alone with them and have to put up with their antics again. You walk into the kitchen to see the two making themselves a quick snack. You sit at the counter, asking Jaehyun to pretty please make you a sandwich.

"You've got hands, do it yourself," Jaemin says to you without looking up from what he was doing. You get up from your seat and start hitting him, "I didn't ask you. Jaehyun's nice to me, he'll make me one, right?" He's already getting it ready for you and you love that about him.

Jaemin scoffs, and says under his breath, "Yeah duh cause he likes you."

Jaehyun yells at him, obviously not wanting you to know. You giggle, thinking it's cute he doesn't think you already know. You can tell from the way he's been acting around you and you feel like riling him up a bit. You walk towards Jaehyun, hands behind your back, and say in a sing-songy voice, "Really? I didn't know. Maybe I like him too," you tease, enjoying the way he looks away from you and back down to the sandwich.

"What's wrong? You're always staring at me when you think I'm not looking, but now you can't even look at me?" You tease further. He shoves the plate towards you, finished with your sandwich and takes his own plate to the couch. You and Jaemin look at each other, knowing you've got him right where you want him. You don't let up, following him to the couch and sitting right next to him as he always does with you. You cross your legs and snuggle a little closer to him, letting your thigh rest on his as you eat your sandwich and watch TV like you aren't obviously trying to get Jaehyun flustered. Jaemin comes to sit next to you and you're officially squished between the two. You didn't know Jaemin would sit right there and you look at him, telling him to move with your eyes. He shrugs and continues eating.

You all sit on the couch, watching something to pass the time. You get up first to put your plate away but when you come back, the two guys are holding their own plates out, signaling for you to put them away for them. You groan but you do it anyway since you're already up.

"Y/N can you get the remote?" Jaemin asks as you come back. It somehow ended up on the floor... ten feet away from them. "What the fuck how did it get over there?" You bend over to pick it up and you hear a "wow" from Jaemin. You look back at him to ask what he's talking about, but you don't even need to ask as he's staring at your ass, your shorts leaving little to the imagination. You didn't feel self conscious wearing shorts around them before because you didn't feel like you needed to, but with the way Jaemin is literally eye fucking you right now, you suddenly feel very shy. You tug your shorts down and throw the remote at him to get him to stop looking at you like that. Jaehyun didn't make any audible noise, but you can tell from the way he's looking at you and back to Jaemin that he felt the same way. You don't even want to sit next to them any more, giving up on messing with Jaehyun.

You're the one getting riled up this time, but you don't want them to know that. The way they're looking at you isn't something you can handle so you sit on the next couch away from them. They look at each other without you knowing and have their own game in mind now.

"Y/N, come back over here," you hear Jaehyun call out to you and pat the seat in between them. You don't even look in his direction and focus on the TV, giving him a firm no.

"He wasn't asking," Jaemin's voice dropped a couple octaves, making you tingle. You're afraid to look back at them, not wanting to play whatever game they were about to pull you into. You're getting turned on and they haven't even done anything but said a few words to you. You feel silly letting them get to you so quick. "You come here or we go over there."

You turn around but don't make a move to get up, just to look at them. They're staring at you with gazes you can't read, or maybe you can read them but you don't know if you're ready to decipher them. Jaehyun nods his head, beckoning for you to come back to your spot. Your heart is pounding now and your body starts to get really hot. You slowly make your way back towards them, their eyes pulling you in like they've got you under some spell. You don't sit down, just stand in front of them, unable to make eye contact with either of them.

They both reach for your hands at the same time, tugging you down and you have to catch yourself with your knees resting on the couch. Your back is now towards the TV and you're facing the back of the couch, an awkward position to say the least.

"Good girl," Jaehyun coos, making you clench around nothing as you feel yourself getting more turned on. "Now stay right there and don't move." He gets up and makes his way around the couch, standing in front of you as Jaemin stays beside you. "You listen to us better than I thought you would," Jaemin says, his hands sliding up your thighs. You start fidgeting, trying to turn back around and sit on the couch normally. He lands a hard slap on your ass and you whimper as the pain subsided into pleasure and you don't try to sit normally again.

"I said don't move," Jaehyun snarls, grabbing your chin to face him. "You thought you could get out of what you said earlier? You know I like you baby but that doesn't mean you can make fun of me in front of Jaemin." You turn a bit to look at Jaemin, and he's got that same annoying ass smile on his face, enjoying the way your ass is on display for him. Jaehyun roughly yanks your chin back in his direction, "Don't look at him, look at me."

You don't know what you should say in this moment, you're feeling extremely turned on with the way Jaehyun is talking to you and Jaemin's hand on your lower body isn't making things better. You're thinking what the fuck happened? You don't know how things turned 180 that quick. You're half embarrassed about what's going on right now, but the other half of you wants to see where things will go. You let the latter half take over. You're all alone right now, what's stopping you from beating them at their own game?

You arch your back more, pushing your ass further out for Jaemin to see and put on your best pout for the man in front of you. "Sorry Jaehyun, I didn't mean to make you upset," you whine at him, leaning on the back of the couch. You turn to look at Jaemin, shivering at the way his hand is caressing your ass. "Jaemin, that hurt," you fake pout at him too, "but I liked it." You quickly jump off the couch onto your feet before either of them can reach for you, boasting a flirty smile that has the two of them ready to pounce.

"Come get me," you sing, making a run for their room as soon as you see them both racing towards you. Your adrenaline is pumping and you love that they don't waste any time to follow you. You make it to their room before they do, locking it before they can barge in. They both bang on the door, impatient and eager to have their way with you for the stunt you just pulled on them.

"Y/N open the door, now." Jaehyun sounds so sexy when he's mad and you just want to keep pushing his buttons.

"What are you gonna do about it?" You can hear their footsteps trailing back downstairs, unsure of what's going on. Did they give up? Shit shit shit no wait come back. You wait a bit longer, to see if they really left. You hear them come back and you're about to say something when you hear a key in the door. You forgot that your friend told you where the keys to each room were in case you locked yourselves out for some reason. They both barge in, successfully opening the door and they don't look happy. Fuck.

They're glaring at you, and you feel small in their presence. You weren't prepared for this, this wasn't in your game plan. You don't know what to do any more. You back up as they make their way towards you, the back of your knees hitting the edge of the bed. "No, wait, I take it back I didn't mean it," you try to talk your way out of it but Jaemin pushes you onto the bed, not wanting to hear your excuses. You try to get away from them, but they're much stronger than you and hold you in place, Jaehyun's hands on your waist and Jaemin holding your legs down. You feel like you should be afraid, but you're actually getting wetter with each second. You weren't sure if you could handle either of them when they were looking at you in that way, let alone both of them at the same time.

"Do you like messing with us?" Jaemin asks, his hands sliding further up your legs.

"You mess with me all the time Jaemin," you retort, which earns you a slap on your thigh. "Don't talk back to me."

"Are you gonna be a good girl and listen to us this time?" Jaehyun slides his hands underneath your shirt, gliding across your stomach, getting close to your breasts.

You bite your lip, unbelievably wet at this point. "What are you gonna do?" you ask quietly, not sure if you're ready for their answer.

Jaemin moves away from your legs and sits in the middle of the bed. He holds your cheek and says in a low voice, "Mmm, we're gonna do so many things to you." You can't hold back your whimper, heart racing at all the thoughts running through your mind.

"You have to tell us if you want it though. We won't do anything without your consent." Even with the way they've been playing with you and eye fucking you downstairs, they still ask you in case you want to stop.

"Yes, I want it, I want both of you, fuck you guys are so hot" you breathe out, unable to play their game any longer. You want nothing more than for both of them to pleasure you and make you scream their names. You're up for anything and you want them to know. You're soaking through your panties, and you squeeze your legs together to get some kind of friction. "I'm so wet because of you," looking at both of them. Jaehyun cocks an eyebrow, eyes trailing down your figure, taking note of the way you're squirming underneath him. Jaemin wastes no time in pulling your legs towards him. Jaehyun lifts your shirt up to expose your chest to him, pushing your bra up and going straight for your breasts. He kneads one with his hand and sucks on the other, going back and forth between the two. You love the way his tongue glides across your nipples, and you throw your head back when you feel Jaemin's hand rubbing at your core through your shorts. Both of them are making you feel so good, but you crave more.

"Take them off Jaemin," you urge him, wanting to feel his hands on your body and not on your shorts. You lift your hips, waiting for him to slide them down your legs. When he does, he groans at the sight before him. "She wasn't kidding, she's hella wet," Jaemin says to Jaehyun, moving his fingers back to your clit, making slow circles. The only sounds in the room are your small moans and the sound of your wetness as Jaemin plays with you. He pushes two fingers in to the hilt without warning, and your hips snap up, moaning even louder as he pumps them in and out. At the same time, Jaehyun moves his lips to your neck, nipping and sucking at every inch. His hand reaches your core and rubs your clit as Jaemin finger fucks you.

"Fuck that feels good Jae," you don't know if you're talking about Jaehyun or Jaemin, but they were both making you feel on cloud nine right now. Jaemin pulls his fingers out of you and they're coated in your wetness. He brings his hand to your lips and you wrap your mouth around them, tongue swirling around his digits, licking yourself off his fingers.You feel Jaemin shifting, pushing your knees up and laying down in front of your core. Jaehyun pulls back, watching as Jaemin presses kisses on your sex before diving in and lapping up all your juices. You grab onto his hair pushing his head closer to you, mouth left in an o-shape, not making any sounds but feeling so good underneath Jaemin's tongue. "I could eat you out all day, you look so amazing right now" Jaemin comments, making you shy, trying to close your legs only for him to hold your thighs tighter and keep them open.

"I bet you'd look better with my dick in your mouth," Jaehyun says as he steps off the bed to pull his pants down and you reach your hand out to grab his member. He's taking in the view before him: your legs spread wide by Jaemin's hands as he devours you, your eyes locked on his own and your hand pumping him up and down, all needy for him. He kneels on the bed beside you, telling you to open up. You greedily take him in your mouth, licking what you can and moaning when Jaemin sucks on your clit. You close your eyes, trying to focus on the pleasure Jaemin is giving you while trying to pleasure Jaehyun at the same time.

Jaemin is keeping his eyes on the two of you, watching the way your hips buck every time he licks your clit and the way your mouth is wrapped around Jaehyun. He pulls away from you, wiping your arousal off his mouth and chin. He brings his hand down, slapping your pussy hard. You yelp and close your legs as a reflex, only for Jaemin to push them back open. He keeps your legs spread but doesn't stop, slapping both your core and inner thighs. You can't focus on sucking Jaehyun off when Jaemin is abusing your pussy in all the right ways. "Jaemin!" you cry out, and he smirks. "That's what you get for sucking him while I'm eating you out, you're supposed to focus on me."

You whine, unsure if you should keep sucking Jaehyun now that Jaemin has stopped. You look to Jaehyun, and he's staring at your body, core dripping even more than before. He turns to look down at you, hand still holding his member and you pump him slowly, loving the way his big dick fits in your hand. "Want me to fuck you first baby?" You nod, a bit too eagerly, earning a low chuckle from him. He pulls your legs towards him and throws his shirt off swiftly and now it's your turn to eye fuck him. You couldn't stop staring at him the first time you met, but this is even better than before now that he's completely naked and about to ruin you. As Jaehyun aligns himself to your core, Jaemin groans, upset that he isn't getting any action right now. You take pity on him and reach out to him, asking him to kiss you. He jumps at the opportunity and lays down beside you, pulling your face closer to his as he hungrily kisses you. Tongues clashing, you both fight for dominance, not wanting him to win you over.

Jaehyun slides in and you gasp against Jaemin's lips, knowing it was coming but you still weren't ready for it. He grips your waist as you wrap your legs around him, pushing into you with such force that you can't even kiss Jaemin properly any more. Jaehyun starts to get lost in the way your pussy clenches so tightly around him. "Damn, your pussy feels so good baby," Jaehyun moans, watching the way your breasts bounce with each thrust. You pull away from Jaemin's lips, but keep eye contact with him as Jaehyun fucks you senseless. Jaemin is rock hard by now, watching your face contort in pleasure while still looking him in the eyes, pleading silently for him to do something to you. He can tell you want Jaehyun but that you also want him just as much, which prompts him to undress and kneel on the bed, member in hand, waiting for you to take him.

Jaehyun pulls out and flips you on your stomach. You immediately get on all fours, moaning as he pushes back in again and look at Jaemin, sticking your tongue out for him to fuck your mouth. He swears, taking in the image of you getting fucked by one of his best friends but still begging for him like the slut you are. "You look so pretty like this," Jaemin says, pushing all the way in to your mouth. You gag a bit, but you want him to be rough with you. Jaehyun is fucking you so hard you moan on Jaemin's dick, making him close his eyes and revel in the way your perfect little mouth is making him feel so good. Jaehyun slaps your ass so hard, you can't help but pause on Jaemin's dick a bit, waiting for the sting to turn into pleasure. He does it again and again, and you cry out, your head falling onto the bed, unable to keep Jaemin in your mouth.

"What's wrong baby girl? You said you liked it earlier," Jaehyun mocks you, pulling your hair up so that you can face Jaemin again. "Be a good slut and suck his dick."

You take Jaemin into your mouth again, unable to deny him when he's looking at you like you're the sexiest person he's ever seen, taking two dicks at once. You feel so full, so fucked out, so good that you can't focus on either of them. You look up at Jaemin, who's pushing further and further into your mouth, fucking your mouth just as hard as Jaehyun is fucking your pussy. You don't want either of them to stop but you don't know how much longer you can go. Your body is about to give out, and Jaehyun can feel your knees starting to fall on the bed.

"We never said we were done, don't act like you can't take it princess," Jaehyun and Jaemin both pull out of you and you collapse, trying to catch your breath. Jaemin takes the initiative, laying down in front of you. "Ride me baby."

You regain feeling in your legs and climb on top of Jaemin, sinking down on his dick as his hands move to your ass. You rest your palms beside his head, moving your hips up and down slowly. You squeeze around him and he lets out a sigh. "God, you're still so tight even after that fucking Jaehyun gave you." His hands caress your sore cheeks, still red and left with hand marks. Jaehyun watches the two of you, paying close attention to the way your pussy grips Jaemin's dick as you ride him. "She's doing so well, isn't she Jaemin?"

"She's the best I've ever had, can't get enough," he responds, looking at you sweetly. This is the first time you've seen him look at you in that way, and you realize you can't deny it either, no matter how much he's annoyed you in the past few days you've spent together. You lean down, littering his neck with warm kisses. Your soft lips on his skin makes him burn up. "Jaemin, fuck me, make me yours," you whisper in his ear, quietly so that Jaehyun doesn't hear. The intimacy shared between you two, even with Jaehyun still in the room, makes you both insanely crazy for each other. He doesn't have to be told again. He holds your hips still, shifting his feet so that they're propped against the bed. He asks if you're ready, and you kiss him softly in response. He wastes no time, drilling into you, hitting your sweet spot with every thrust. He makes you scream his name, hugging your body close to his as he fucks you so hard your head is spinning. Jaehyun is sure you said something to Jaemin, but he couldn't make out what you said. He feels a slight tinge of jealousy, wanting to know what made Jaemin snap.

You can feel your orgasm coming, and with the way it's been building up since Jaemin ate you out and Jaehyun fucked you, you know it's gonna hit hard. "I'm gonna cum, will you make me cum baby?" you plead in Jaemin's ear, and he knows he's close too. Your pussy clenches around him, getting even tighter than before. "I'm close, you need to get off," he warns, but you don't want to. You look him the eyes, "It's okay." And with that, all his inhibitions go out the window. He brings his hand to your clit, rubbing fast and hard to get you to finish at the same time.

"Fuck, I'm cumming," you yell, throwing your head back as your orgasm washes over you. Jaemin's hips stutter as he lets out a string of moans, releasing his load in you. You both take a second to come down from your high, almost forgetting that Jaehyun was in the room until he grabs your hips, pulling you off of Jaemin and throwing you onto your back.

"What the fuck was that? Neither of you wanted to tell me you were about to cum?" He's beyond jealous now, wanting to be the first one to finish in you. Your mind is still cloudy and you can feel Jaemin's cum slipping out of you onto the bed. "Sorry bro," Jaemin chuckles with his half-ass apology. Jaehyun looks at you and you can only smile weakly at him. He spreads your legs apart and thrusts two fingers in, pushing Jaemin's cum back into your core. With your own arousal and Jaemin's, you're the wettest you've been all night. You whimper, still sensitive from the intense orgasm you just had.

"Oh baby, did you think that was the end of it?" Jaehyun quickly moves his fingers in and out of you, thumb rubbing your clit as you try to move away. "I can't take any more,” shaking your head weakly.

"You can and you will," he assures you, wanting to punish you for forgetting about him. His hand snakes up your body, gripping your throat firmly, making it hard for you to breathe. The lack of air and the way he's finger fucking you makes your head feel light. You love the short, sweet moment you had with Jaemin, but Jaehyun's roughness makes your body tingle in a different way. You enjoy them both, and soon you're becoming another mess underneath Jaehyun.

"Shit, Jaehyun don't stop please," you moan loudly, feeling another orgasm approaching. He removes his fingers from your core and you feel empty, a second high so close. He throws your left leg over his shoulder, holding the other leg down as he slides right in. You can't keep up with him, can't do anything but just take it, he's so good at abusing your pussy and you love it so much. His hand presses against your throat again and he's making you feel so delirious.

"I told you you could take it. Tell me you like it," he says harshly, letting go of your throat a bit so you could respond.

"Fuck, I love it," you pant, getting close again.

"What do you love?" he presses further, undoubtedly so Jaemin could hear. He scoffs in the background, knowing Jaehyun is doing it on purpose.

"I love it when you fuck me, you make me feel so good Jaehyun," you tell the truth, not wanting him to get any more jealous. He kisses you, the first time he's done that tonight. You hold his face, letting him take control of your lips, your body, your mind. You're drowning in the pleasure he's giving you, and you can tell he's close too.

"Cum in me baby," you whisper against his lips, wanting him to fill you up. 

"You’re too much for me sweetheart, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum," he groans. You reach your second orgasm of the night, and this one is even more intense than before. Jaehyun watches as your eyes roll to the back of your head and your legs begin to shake as he stills in you, spilling his own load into you. Jaemin watches as both his cum and Jaehyun's leaks out of you.

Both Jaehyun and Jaemin take a moment to admire you looking absolutely delicious in your fucked out state. They look at each other, wondering if they were too hard on you.

"Was that too much?" Jaehyun asks, as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, pulling you out of your trance. You feel their cum dripping, but as one last bold move, you spread your legs and gather a bit on your fingers, bringing it to your lips to let them know you loved every bit of it.

"You're so sexy, I might just have to go again," Jaehyun leans down to kiss you, telling you how you did so well for them. Jaemin is already running the shower for you so you can clean yourself up.

After your shower, you hear rustling downstairs and you're glad your friends didn't come back 10 minutes earlier. Jaemin's already taken the sheets off the bed to throw them in the washer. You and Jaehyun meet everyone downstairs, ready for dinner after everything that just happened.

"Hey, what have you guys been up to since we left?" Lucas asks, getting the grill ready for some Korean barbecue.

"We just played a few games in our room," Jaemin responds, giving you a wink. "Y/N thought she would win but me and Jaehyun put her in her place."

[holylulusworld]

Shackled

Title: Shackled

Bad Bitches Bingo Square Filled: Enemies to lovers

Written for: @badbitchesbingo​

Summary: Dean is at your mercy and you’ll have some fun.

Pairing: Demon!Dean Winchester x Witch!Reader; Dean Winchester x Witch!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2,6 k

Warnings: language, bratty reader, dirty talk, restraints (rope), mentions of spells/binding spells, smut, unprotected sex, face slapping, hate sex, hair pulling, hand around throat (light choking), mentions of anal sex (barely), nipple play, biting, possessive reader/Dean, odd way to cure a demon (but the best way possible), I label this dub-con (just in case), female masturbation, dry humping, fingering, voyeurism

Divider by @firefly-graphics​

2021 Bad Bitches Bingo masterlist

“You know,” you giggle, striding toward the restrained hunter, “I always wondered how’d you taste, Winchester.”

“I’m gonna split you into two halves-“ the demon growls, eyes pitch-black, “with my teeth.” now you snicker, stepping closer to the knight of hell. He still fights to break free, even though he’s retrained to a chair with ropes soaked in holy water. “Come here and get some.”

“Oh-I will, hunter boy,” cooing the words you kick his legs apart to step between his spread thighs, hands cupping his face roughly. “You look so good restrained, helpless and at my mercy. I almost want to make you happy…”

“Fucking witches,” the demon spats, glaring up at you. He hates you don’t even bat an eyelash when he snarls at you. “You don’t want me to be happy.”

“True,” leaning closer to lick over his cheek you smirk as he growls low in his throat. “I want to turn you into a mess, Dean Winchester. You know,” glancing over your shoulder you smirk, “your brother believes I want to help him cure you but little me wants to toy with you.”

“Toy with me,” eyes angry black holes Dean watches you straddle one of his thighs. You grip his shoulders, still that smirk on your lips when you start to rub your aching core over his thigh. “Bitch! You won’t get off using me.”

“Oh-I fucking will, Deano-“ you roughly grip his chin, force your tongue down his throat. “And you’ll thank me when I’m done, demon. I will make you scream so loud your baby brother can hear every moan and gasp.”

“Get off me,” Dean growls, a little less disgusted by you. “I will rip you apart, witch. This is your last-“ he moans feeling your hand cup his growing erection. “Fuck-“

“I’m on it, demon,” kissing him greedily, your tongue in his mouth you ignore Dean fights the ropes holding him. “You know, I never fucked a hunter nor a demon. This is the perfect opportunity. Plus, we hate each other. Three things I can cross off my bucket list.”

“Your life must be lame,” Dean huffs when you hop off his thigh to get rid of your skirt and shirt, revealing you are wearing no underwear. “What if my beloved brother walks in on us?”

“Aw, are you shy, Deano?” grinning you snap your fingers, sealing the dungeon so no one can enter it. “He’s out cold, sleeps like a baby just like the angel. I will have my fun with you and later,” you turn around to bend over a little, shaking your ass to show Dean the tattoo on your left cheek, “I’ll give you a nice new tattoo.”

“What’s that? A little devil?” he cocks his head, eagerly ogling your exposed sex. “Fuck me, she’s dripping. Such a naughty girl.”

“Yep,” turning back around to stalk toward the demon you snicker. “If I get the tattoo on your chest, you’ll be bound to me, Dean. There is no way you can deny me any wish. And now I wish for your dick in my cunt.”

“Greedy slut,” spatting the words Dean must watch you unbuckle his belt. He growls, fighting the ropes but somehow, his cock swells in his pants. “I’m gonna fucking ruin this greedy pussy.”

“I hope so,” you coo, unzipping his pants, dragging the rough fabric down his thighs with one swift motion. “Perfect dick for an asshole like you.” lazily licking your lips, you rip Dean’s red shirt open, smirking as he gasps at the sudden movement. “I want you free of clothing, demon boy. I like my prey naked.”

“Kinky rotten cunt,” Dean growls when you snap your fingers to destroy his undershirt, revealing his chest to him. “Don’t touch me.” he growls but his eyes are glued to your hand creep toward his cock. “I dare—fuck me.” 

“Not yet, baby,” you purr, moving your hand slowly up and down his cock, driving him crazy. “Just tell me you want it and you can feel me wrapped around your dick, if not-“ you release his cock, stepping away to sit on the floor.

“What? Do you want to just stare at my dick till you get off?”

“No-“ you spread your legs, reveal your dripping sex to the demon. “I will just get me myself off using my talent fingers.” that caught his attention. His eyes glued to your tongue wetting your fingers the demon fights the ropes.

“Get here on my dick, bitch. You got me hard,” he grunts, gritting his teeth when you start to slide your fingers through your folds, “now take care of me.”

“I didn’t hear a ‘please’ Dean,” shoving two fingers into your cunt you moan loudly. “Feels so good, baby. I’m so, so wet for you, and tight.”

“I-I want you to ride my dick,” panting heavily, his eyes glued to your fingers fucking your slick cunt the demon growls like a wild animal. “I dare you to keep me waiting.”

“I want to hear it,” moving your fingers faster you lock eyes with the demon. “If I cum, before you beg me, you won’t cum at all.”

“P-Please-“ he spats, eyes onyx orbs. “Come here and fuck me or I’ll rip your throat out with my teeth. 

“If you ask so nicely…”

“Do you think Y/N can end the cure?” looking at Castiel, wondering why the angel frowns deeply Sam looks at the lore again. “She’s sure about this spell? We didn’t use that one with Crowley.”

“Trust me,” Castiel assures. “If anyone can master this spell, it’s Y/N. She’s a bit difficult but deep down inside she’s a good person.”

“If you say so…”

“Bitch,” Dean tries to inhale your scent when you straddle his lap. He fights the ropes again, dreams of wrapping his hand around your throat, and fuck you raw. “Get started or I’ll-“

“Kill me,” you smirk, raising your hips to line his cock up with your dripping core. “Nah, I think you’ll take my pussy and cum when I tell you to,” pushing your tits in his face you grunt, “lips around my nipple, suck it like a good boy.”

“Fuck you, bitch,” a slap silences Dean and you sink onto without warning. He hisses, growls low in his throat before you silence him with your tits in his face again. 

“You know the drill, Winchester. Give me what I want,” you gyrate your hips, force a deep guttural growl out of Dean’s throat, “and I’ll fuck you like no slut before me.”

“You’re the only slut I fucked so far,” he husks, plump lips curled into a smirk. “Now get started bitch, or I’ll bite your nipple.”

“Do it,” you whimper, watching Dean wrap his lips around one nipple, crazing it with his teeth. He smirks against your plush flesh before he bites down your tit and you grip his shoulders, crying out. “Fuck, you’re a beast.”

“I’m a monster and you just sank down my dick. I hope you didn’t get into trouble, sweetheart,” he grins, thrusting upward to hit that spot making you see stars. “There it is bitch. Now ride me as you mean it.”

“Fucking shut your mouth,” fisting his hair you force Dean to crane his neck. “Look at me while I fuck you, demon.”

“The moment I get out of these ropes, this cunt is mine, your ass is mine, your body and soul are going to be mine. And I’ll ruin you. Every. Single. Hole,” the demon threatens, licking his lips when you start to move your hips. “Good girl.”

“Shut up,” you tug harder, force another growl out of his throat. “Just take it like a good boy.” You grin, feeling his chest heave up and down against your breasts. “I bet you’d like to push me to the ground and just fuck me raw from behind like a wild dog.”

“Feral wolf, sweetheart,” you ignore Dean throws insults at you or that you’ve got the feeling he’s too comfortable with you on top of him. All you have in mind is to fuck him into obedience. “There, faster, harder. Make yourself cum on my cock, slut. I want you to cream all over me.” Your hips begin to stutter, and you hate yourself for it but you grip his shoulders to bounce faster on his cock. 

“FUCK-I-M-“ you dig your nails into his shoulders, moaning loudly when your orgasm ripples through your body. You close your eyes, and for a moment, you allow yourself to let your guard down only to feel Dean’s hands paw at your ass.

“Yeah, and you will for the rest of the night-“ the demon smirks when you snap your eyes open. “Game over, witch. Now you will be good and do anything I want.” He grins, revealing pearl white teeth. “This includes taking my cock like a good girl.”

You shiver as his rough hands guide you up and down his cock. “Look at you, pathetic slut. Impaled on a demon’s cock you’re nothing but a drooling bitch in heat. Now I’m gonna fuck you as you deserve it.”

“OH GOD!” you cry, fighting his hands when he stands to throw you onto the ground. “Dean…”

“Aw, just stay there and take it, baby girl. I don’t bite,” he grins, rolling his shoulders. “Well, maybe a little…”

“Did Y/N just scream?” worriedly looking at the dungeon Sam debates to help you or to listen to his friend.

“Sam, she said we shall not enter the dungeon before she leaves it. And we can’t. She sealed it with a spell.”

“I’m just worried if she tried to keep us out or Dean inside…”

“Such a bad girl,” Dean pushes you to the ground, face pressed into the cold concrete. “I should snap your neck and just leave but I will cream this pussy first.” you moan at his threat, already dripping for more.

“Do your worst,” you whimper. “I can take it.”

“I know you can,” he wraps one large palm around your throat, forces you on your hands. “And you will take me so deep it hurts. Pity I don’t give a shit if you like it or not.”

“Fuck me like a man or leave it,” you quip. “If you can’t get hard, ask your brother for advice. He made me cum so hard last time we had a quickie.”

“You’re mine to fuck,” he grips you by your hips, driving in balls deep without warning. “Fuck, that’s a good pussy.” you writhe on his cock, moaning shamelessly as he starts to hammer into you.

“Hurry up, I got an appointment for cardio training later,” Dean chuckles darkly. “I mean it, Winchester.”

“The only valid form of cardio is taking my dick, Y/N. Now shut your mouth or I’ll gag you with my fist,” he speeds up, arms wrapping tightly around your chest to bring your back against his body. “Your pussy just saved your life.” he whispers in your ear, rutting harder into you.

“Blood to blood, mind to mind,” you chant, crying out the last word when Dean wraps one hand around your throat again. “Soul to soul, bind us. His Darkness, come to me. Let my light swallow it.” 

“What the fuck?” Dean roars through his orgasm, shudders when blinding light surrounds you and the demon inside your body. 

“Chain to chain, bind our souls. His Darkness be mine. My light be his,” you fall back against Dean’s chest, chanting the last words of your spell. “Let my heart save his…”

Dean pulls out of you, breaks apart, warily watching you. He breathes hard, not understanding why he can’t stop looking at you.

“Darkness fade away, set his soul free and take mine,” you end the spell, ripping your necklace off your neck to throw it at Dean.

The demon screams in agony, falls to the ground, clutching his chest. “It’s done, no turning back, Winchester,” you sigh, losing consciousness.

“How could you let her do this?” looking at you snuggled in his pillow Dean huffs. “You let a fucking witch bind me to her?”

“She said it’s the only way to end the cure. We were—desperate,” Sam chokes out. “Purified blood and the spell didn’t work.”

“Why did she have to do it that way?” licking his lips, Dean remembers the way you came around him. 

“She purified your soul and shares the burden of the mark with you until we can remove it,” Castiel explains. “We reached the end of the rope Dean. Be thankful. Y/N was the only one agreeing to help you.”

“That woman is a witch!” Dean groans, when you roll to his favorite side on the bed, giggling when he glares at you.

“Aw, that hurts my feelings, hunter,” you mutter, blinking your eyes open. “I assume the cure worked?”

“He’s human again and pissed,” Sam throws his hands up in surrender. “I’m going to get drunk tonight. Leave me out of this fight.”

“I’ll leave you alone to talk things out,” Castiel ushers out of the room, sighing as Dean slams the door shut behind him.

“You got them wrapped around your finger, but I don’t trust you one bit,” he pokes your thigh. “Get off my bed and out of the bunker.”

“No thank you for your help?” you sit up, grinning at Dean. “Or rather for the fuck?”

“This stays between you and me,” he’s in your face, breathing heavily. “I dare you to tell Sam we fucked.”

“I’m the kiss and not tell kind of girl, Winchester. And—it was a pitiful and disappointing encounter. Why would I tell anyone about the worst sex I ever had?” you fake a deep sigh, batting your eyelashes.

“You are so frustrating.”

“And sexy,” you coo, kneeling on the bed. “Did you already see the great new tattoo on your chest? This means you are mine from now on.”

“A fucking chain,” Dean mutters, watching you pat his cock. “What are you up to? Why did you help me?”

“You’re a source of pure darkness and this gets me all tingly,” purring the words you slide your hand up to his chest to fist his shirt. “I’m the only one controlling it. If you want to stay human, you better satisfy my needs.”

“Your needs,” Dean huffs, but his cock twitches in interest. “Dream on.”

“I only want to get dicked down good and hard once in a while. Oh! And I want you to help me cross things off my bucket list. I already got hate sex, sex with a demon, sex with a hunter, and sex with Dean Winchester.”

“You’re a freak…a kinky one,” husking the words Dean unbuckles his belt…slowly. “What else do you have on that list?” he cocks a brow, smirking as you already unbutton the shirt you stole from him. “Y/N, I asked you a question.”

“Let’s see-“ cocking your head you try to remember all the things on your list. “Sex with you on your car. Eating pie off someone’s body. Killing the coven who killed my family. Sex with Sam Winchester. Sex with both Winchesters. Learning how to play a piano.”

“Holy fuck!” Dean growls, freeing his aching cock. “You are a fucking slut for Winchester cocks.”

“And?” you shrug, eyes glued to Dean’s cock. “I get bored easily on hunts and let my mind drift toward a good dick-story.” 

“Get on hands and knees, bitch,” Dean orders. “You’ll recite your bucket list while I fuck you raw. And no, you won’t get Sammy’s dick, only mine. Now hands behind your back, I got a nice rope waiting to tame you.”

“I prefer your dick…”

Tags in reblog.

[specialagentsergio]

wish i were

summary: Emily’s back where she belongs, but she’s learning that you can’t come back from the dead the same as you were before. Spencer’s reeling from betrayal and broken trust. Then there’s you—their safe port in the storm. But you’re not okay either, and you have a choice to make.

pairing: spencer reid x f!reader (unrequited), emily prentiss x f!reader

category: angst

content warnings: lots of swearing, mentions of/implied sex, mentions of vomiting (nothing descriptive), fighting, negative feelings towards other team members, bittersweet ending

a/n: it’s finally here. thank you all for your patience. i wasn’t planning on posting angst and unrequited love on valentine’s day, but i don’t want to wait another day to post this; i’m kinda sick of looking at it tbh. anyways, i hope you enjoy it and it lives up to your expectations. sorry it’s so long. apparently i have a lot to say.

word count: 8.7k

series masterlist || masterlist

Ten weeks ago.

“Absolutely not,” Emily croaks out. Her voice is rough and broken from the breathing tube, and it hurts her throat to speak, but she ignores it. “No. I won’t do it.”

She can hardly believe what she’s hearing. She’s only been awake for a few hours and she’s already fed up with the bullshit the world is throwing at her. Right now, it’s in the form of her boss asking her to fake her own death. “You can’t seriously think this is an acceptable solution.”

Hotch is unreadable, his unit chief face firmly in place. “It’s for your own safety.”

Emily scoffs, then immediately winces at the pain that shoots through her midsection. But she continues. “So put me in a safe house or something. I’m not making my friends bury me.”

“It’s for their safety as well,” he replies. “Doyle’s still out there. He’s targeted them before. You know he’ll do it again to get to you if he finds out you’re alive.”

“Then let them in on this,” she argues. “They can keep a secret.”

His expression slips—just a little bit, but she sees it. It’s hesitance.

“Where’s (Y/N)?” she asks, a feeling of dread settling over her. “I want to see her. I’m not making a decision like this without her.”

Hotch folds his arms over his chest. “It’s not your decision to make, Emily,” he says quietly. “It’s already done.”

Her breath catches in her throat. She looks him up and down, searching desperately for any sign that he’s lying, that this is all just some cruel joke, that any second now you’ll be walking through the door, a smile on your face—

There are none.

Her lungs burn and she’s forced to take in a breath. “You son of a bitch,” she whispers. “You... son of a bitch. How dare you? How dare you.”

He doesn’t so much as flinch as her voice increases in volume, which only serves to make her angrier.

“How fucking dare you! You let me see (Y/N) right now, you bastard!”

The door opens—her heart leaps—

It’s JJ, who, if Hotch is to be believed, is the only other one to know about this. JJ hurries to her side and reaches out, but Emily yanks her arm away.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” she snarls. “You—” Her eyes land on the water pitcher on the table in front of her and she lunges forward, the searing pain it causes barely registering. She seizes it and throws it with all the force she can muster.

Hotch doesn’t move out of the way, letting it hit his chest and soak the front of his clothing. Its accompanying cup follows, then the TV remote. It’s not until she grabs the vase of flowers that he ducks out of the way. The glass shatters on the floor. All the while, she’s screaming obscenities at him.

JJ tries in vain to calm her down, holding up her hands placatingly. “Emily, please—”

“Don’t talk to me!” she yells. “You have the audacity to come in here and speak to me when you know I’m alive and my girlfriend doesn’t!”

“Emily!” Her voice is stern. “I understand you’re upset—”

“Don’t use your fucking mom voice on me, Jennifer, I’m not a fucking child—”

“What’s going on in here?” A pair of nurses enter the room, no doubt drawn by the commotion.

“She’s bleeding,” JJ answers immediately. “I think she might have aggravated something when she sat up.”

“She’s not supposed to be sitting up at all. What did you two do?” one of the nurses scolds.

“She just got some bad news—”

“Well, isn’t that a nice way to put it!” The nurses are trying to coax her into laying back down, but Emily resists it. “A really great way to describe the two of you trying to force me into letting my family and girlfriend think I’m dead!”

“I think some of the stitches tore,” the second nurse says.

“Go get the doctor,” the first one instructs an orderly standing in the doorway.

Movement catches Emily’s eye and she looks towards it to see Hotch taking a step backwards.

“Don’t you dare leave!” she screams. “I’m not done with you, you motherf—”

“Agent, please, you need to lie back.”

“And you two need to leave,” the older of the nurses says.

Then there’s a third person at her side. Judging by the white coat, it’s the doctor. “What’s the problem?” he asks them.

“She’s agitated and we think some stitches might have burst.”

“Damn right I’m agitated!” Emily cries. “They’re trying to—I—” She looks past the doctor to find that JJ and Hotch are gone.

“Emily, we’re going to give you something to help you relax,” he tells her.

Her vision goes blurry and she can’t figure out why until she feels the tears sliding down her cheeks. She lets the nurses push her back now and her head thumps against the pillow. “Please—” she chokes on a sob. “Please, I want to see my girlfriend.”

“What’s her name?” the doctor asks kindly.

“(Y/N). We’ve been together for almost a year. I need…” Her limbs are starting to feel heavy. “I need to call her, or—or something. She thinks… she thinks….”

“Shh, you’re okay,” one of the nurses soothes. “You’re going to be okay.”

Emily blinks slowly and shakes her head. “But she won’t be. She…”

The world fades to black.

---

There are tear stains on your pillowcase.

That’s the first thing Emily notices when she walks into your bedroom. She recognizes them so quickly because similar ones were on her pillows in Paris.

“Sorry, I’ve been meaning to run the sheets through the wash,” you say when you notice her looking.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” She sets her bag on the bedside table, careful to jostle Sergio as little as possible. He’s in her arms, pressed against her chest and purring loudly. He definitely remembers her—she’d been a little worried that he wouldn’t.

Emily is absolutely exhausted. It has been a very long day. Doyle is dead, Declan is safe, and now all she wants to do is take a nice, hot shower and curl up in bed with you. But you haven’t been able to keep eye contact with her for more than a few moments at a time.

She expected something like this to happen. She knew once the relief of seeing her alive wore off, there was going to be a heap of more, uglier emotions surfacing.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

You glance up at her just briefly, busying yourself with stripping off the pillowcases and replacing them with a clean set. “I don’t know what to say, Emily,” you sigh. “I just… I don’t.”

She strokes Sergio’s back a couple of times to calm herself before replying. “You can say anything. You’ve been through so much, and I… I’m not going to hold what you’re feeling against you.”

You shake your head. “I don’t want to say something I’ll regret.”

It confirms her suspicions. “(Y/N), you’re allowed to be mad at me,” she says. “Hell, you could even yell at me if you wanted to and I’d be okay with it.”

You snort. “I don’t want to yell at you. But, um, could I ask you a question?”

“Anything.”

“Okay. Well…” You shuffle from one foot to the other. “I’m… not really sure how to ask this, but, how… how did this happen?”

Your voice is hesitant. You’re holding back, but Emily can read between the lines. “You mean, how could I let you think I was dead?” she corrects softly.

You breathe in sharply and wrap your arms around yourself. Your eyes are wet when you look up at her and nod.

Emily tries not to let her next words come out too fast, lest it seem like she’s dismissing your feelings or making excuses. “I didn’t get a choice.” Her voice cracks and she clears her throat. “When I came to after surgery, the funeral had already been held.”

Your mouth drops open. You stare at her for a few seconds, then blink several times. Your eyes move around, focused on nothing in particular as you try to process what she’s just told you. Eventually, they settle on the bedroom door behind her. “I’m gonna punch his face,” you whisper.

Emily can’t stop the genuine laugh that bubbles out of her. “Yeah, Hotch heard similar things from me.”

“Oh my god, Em,” you breathe out, and her heart skips a beat at the nickname. “That must have been awful.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t fun,” she admits. “But at least I knew you were alive and that I’d see you again someday. It can’t come close to what you went through.”

You shake your head. “This isn’t the suffering Olympics. It was harder for you in some ways than it was for me, I’m sure. Like, if I was waking up after being stabbed, I’d want my girlfriend there holding my hand.”

Emily’s eyes prick with tears as she listens to you, remembering how it felt to be at the hospital without you there to hold her hand through all the scary bits. But you? You had buried her, and now you’re here considering how Emily had felt throughout all this. She’s not sure if you’re actively trying to make her fall even more in love with you, but if you are, you’re succeeding.

“I can’t promise to never be mad at you about this,” you continue, “but I’ll take being mad at you for actually being alive rather than being mad at you for dying.”

“That’s… really mature of you,” she observes.

“I started seeing a therapist a few days after the funeral,” you say with a shrug. “Can you put Sergio down and help me change the bed sheets?”

She nods and places him gently on the floor. She’s about to ask why you’re wanting to change them right now, when you’re clearly just as exhausted as she is, when she finds a tie wedged between the top and fitted sheets at the foot of the bed. She frowns as she lifts it up—it’s not one she recognizes as yours or hers, but she does think she’s seen it before.

“Oh, so that’s where that went,” you say.

“I don’t remember you having a tie like this. Is it new?”

“It’s Spencer’s,” you clarify.

“Oh. What… what’s it doing in your bed?” she asks hesitantly.

“He would stay over sometimes when I couldn’t sleep and he’s too long—“ you spread your hands apart “—for either of the couches.”

“I see.” Emily smooths out the wrinkles in the fabric and crosses the room to put it on top of the dresser, trying to tamp down the sting of jealousy. The other side of your bed is supposed to be hers.

“Nothing happened,” you say and she realizes she’s frowning.

“I know,” she replies, and she does—she just wishes it had been her in the bed with you. But you’ve at least given her a good lead-in for her surprise. “Anyways, you wouldn’t have even had the time with the amount of online Scrabble you were playing.”

Now it’s your turn to frown. “How do you know about that?”

The corner of her mouth turns up. “I was there for every game, sergio2010.”

It takes you a moment to put it together. “You’re cheetobreath?” you ask. “I thought that was JJ.”

“It was her idea,” Emily says. “And that’s what you were supposed to think.”

Your reaction delights her—you start laughing. “That’s ridiculous!”

“I had to stick it to Hotch somehow,” she defends, barely holding back her own laughter.

You shake your head fondly as you finish tucking in the fresh sheets. Emily helps you spread the comforter back over the bed and return the pillows to their spots. She isn’t sure what to do after that, though, and nervously clasps her hands in front of her. You’re silent for a few seconds, watching her from across the bed.

“I’m going to go take a shower,” you say eventually.

“Um, okay,” she replies. “But you know, I could go stay at a hotel instead if you’d prefer.”

You shake your head. “You’re gonna join me.”

“Ah.” Emily swallows, part nervous, part thrilled. “That’s… I mean, yeah. Okay.”

You hold out your hand in invitation; she circles the bed and takes it.

After, when you’re both clean and settled into bed, she pulls you as close to her as she can. “This is so nice,” you sigh into her skin. “You’re so soft, Em.”

Her eyebrows furrow. “Um, thank you?”

“Spencer’s bony,” you explain.

Emily snorts. “Yeah, I know. I fell asleep on his shoulder on the jet a few years ago and it was painful.”

You giggle. “Did you know he talks in his sleep?”

“Morgan’s mentioned it. You learn anything else when you were snuggled up with him?” she teases, running her fingers through your damp hair.

“It wasn’t like that,” you protest. “We didn’t snuggle. I’d just kind of… press my forehead on his arm and one leg against his.” Your voice lowers as you continue, “I just really missed being close to someone.”

“I did, too,” she whispers back. “I wish it had been me, but I’m glad you had him.”

You nod against her in agreement. “I love you, Emily,” you say, briefly tightening your grip on her.

“I love you, too,” she replies, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “So much.”

You drift off to sleep quickly, and she’s not far behind.

It’s the best sleep she’s had in months.

---

Spencer’s barely heard from you since the hearing last week.

He’d gotten plenty of texts from Jennifer (all of which he ignored), but only a few from you. That’s probably normal for most adult friends, but not for you two, especially so when the fact that you were the only two people not to apply for reinstatement to the BAU is taken into consideration. He thought that he’d be able to seriously talk about it with you, to share his feelings and maybe work it out together. But all he had gotten was a brief message:

Emily was reinstated, so I’m going back, too.

It left him frustrated, but when it came down to it, he understood—he was the same. Since you were going back, so was he.

On Monday morning, everyone’s first day back together, he gets off the elevator and is immediately confronted with the last person he wants to see.

“Hey, where have you been? I wanted to do brunch this weekend,” Jennifer says.

Spencer barely resists rolling his eyes, instead keeping them fixed on the file he’s holding. “I had to deal with some stuff with my mom.” It’s not a lie—he did have to check in with his mom. It just didn’t take as long as he’s implying. “Have you seen Garcia?”

“Uh, she’s with Rossi,” Jennifer answers, and she sounds startled by his behavior, but he doesn’t care. You’re at your desk, and as he passes by, he takes your arm.

“Wha—Spencer?” You’re taken aback, but you let him pull you along and into a file room.

“What?” you repeat when he turns to you after closing the door.

He tucks the file into his bag, the folds his arms over his chest. “I barely heard from you last week.”

Your eyebrows scrunch together. “Well, yeah, I’ve been busy,” you say. “Emily’s moving in with me so we’ve been taking her things out of storage and to my apartment to unpack.”

Spencer glances away, trying to ignore the stab of jealousy in his chest. Just two weeks ago, he was in your bed and he’s quickly been replaced. And sure, he knows you don’t feel that way about him, but it was easy to pretend you did when you were asleep right next to him. “Not busy enough to make a decision about work,” he points out.

“So?”

“You’re the only other one who didn’t apply for reinstatement to the unit,” he replies. “You’d think that would be something for us to talk about.”

“You never said you wanted to,” you say, giving him a little shrug.

He doesn’t resist the eye roll this time. Does Spencer know he’s being a bit unfair? Yes. Does he care? Not particularly. No one bothered to seriously check in with him last week. He wasn’t expecting everyone to, but he was expecting it from you. He’s only been at work for five minutes, but his emotions are already running high, and he doesn’t care to reign them in. “I didn’t think I’d have to.”

“You should’ve. I can’t read your mind.” Now you’re getting defensive. “And what does it matter, anyways? You’re not my boyfriend; I don’t have to run my decisions past you.”

“I know that,” he snaps. He really could have done without hearing you say that. “I’m just there to warm up your bed when you’re lonely is all, huh?”

You’re shocked for only a moment before pivoting to anger. “I didn’t make you do anything. You could’ve said no. And I certainly don’t owe you anything from it.”

“Clearly,” he mutters.

You heave an angry sigh. “Look, I know you’re mad about the whole thing, but don’t take it out on me. I don’t know why you’re so surprised that I wanted to spend the past week catching up with my girlfriend after thinking she was dead for ten weeks. If you wanted to talk, you should’ve said so. Stop being such an ass.”

Spencer doesn’t answer. You’re right, and he knows it, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to admit it. He just looks down at the floor, avoiding your glare.

When it becomes clear to you that he has no intention of responding, you mutter, “whatever” under your breath and duck behind him, walking out of the door and leaving him alone again.

---

The case has been miserable.

In rural Oklahoma, their unsub is burning his victims with acid. Not the worst they’ve seen, but not pleasant, either—this job never is.

You’re still mad at him, which is bad enough, but he’s also had to watch you be far more… touchy with Emily than you ever were before. It’s not super apparent—you still keep it professional at the local P.D. and when you’re out on work assignments, but you’re going out of your way to find any excuse to touch her that you can outside of that.

Then there’s the motel they’re staying at and its thin walls. He heard a few things last night from your room next door. It was quickly followed by shushes, but he heard enough to infer what was going on. So he’d dug his noise-canceling headphones out of his bag. It had been a good solution at the time, but then he’d fallen asleep with them on. As a result, he’d slept with his neck at an odd angle. It’s midday now and it’s still aching.

To top it all off, there’s Jennifer. He’s been trying to keep his distance from her, and had thought the snide remarks he hadn’t been able to hold back might encourage her to stay away. But she keeps pressing the issue, and when she tells him she thinks he’s mad about micro-expressions, he can’t hold it back anymore.

“You think it’s about my profiling skills? Jennifer, listen, the only reason you were able to manage my perceptions is because I trusted you. I came to your house for ten weeks in a row crying over losing a friend, and not once did you have the decency to tell me the truth.”

She protests, so he brings up Dilaudid. He knows it’s a low blow, and that she still feels guilty about them splitting up all those years ago, leading to his abduction and subsequent problem, but he doesn’t care. He just wants her to hurt like he is.

The team is staring and Emily says his name, but he just tells Jennifer that it’s too late to be sorry and leaves without another word.

Outside, he sits on the curb in front of one of the SUVs and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to calm himself down. He’s not alone for long, though. Just a few minutes later, he hears footsteps coming from behind him. The sound that involuntarily comes out of his throat can only be described as a growl.

“God, Jennifer, what do I have to do to get you to understand that I want you to leave me the fuck alone!” he nearly yells.

But it’s not Jennifer that answers. “It’s me,” you say softly.

Spencer sighs. He drops his hands from his face but doesn’t open his eyes. “What?”

“Can I sit?”

He’s not sure he wants to be around anyone, but it’s hard for him to say no to you. “Sure,” he says dully.

You join him on the curb, but keep a few feet of space between you. You don’t say anything, though, just sit quietly, letting him make the first move.

“How are you okay?” he asks eventually.

“What?” You sound incredulous. “I’m not sure where you got that idea. I’m so mad at Hotch that I can barely breathe when I’m in the same room as him.”

Spencer considers this for a moment, recalling when everyone’s been in the same room during this case. He realizes that since he’s been preoccupied with you touching Emily and trying to avoid Jennifer, he’s missed how you tense up whenever you see Hotch, and that you keep him out of your eyesight whenever possible.

“But you’re fine with Emily,” he observes. That does honestly confuse him, because he’s mad at Emily as well. And if it had been you in her place? He’s not sure he’d ever be able to forgive you, even without you knowing the way he feels about you.

“For the most part,” you say. “I still feel a little mad at her sometimes, but it helps me to remember that it wasn’t her fault.”

He finally looks at you, raising an eyebrow. “Being alive in Paris and not telling you isn’t her fault?”

“She didn’t really get a choice. When she woke up after surgery, the funeral had already happened,” you explain. “Hotch made the decision without her.”

“Hmm.” He files that information away to think over later. “And Jennifer?”

You shrug. “I can’t be too mad at her, since she did so much for me during those weeks.”

He snorts. “Yeah, out of guilt.”

“Probably, yes,” you concede. “But not having to pack up Emily’s things and take them to storage myself, feeding Sergio and bringing him to stay with me, bringing me hot meals when I was surviving off of cereal alone because I could barely get out of bed, let alone cook for myself… it went a long way.”

On the one hand, it’s a bit comforting for him to hear how Jennifer helped the woman he loves. On the other, she could have ended your pain with three words—Emily is alive—but she didn’t. She let the woman he loves suffer the pain of the loss of a partner.

And she sure didn’t bring him hot meals.

This shouldn’t surprise you, Spencer. You’ve always been the afterthought. The burden. You should be used to this by now.

He clenches the fabric of his pants in his hands. “That doesn’t make me any less angry,” he mutters.

“That’s fine.”

“You can’t expect me to just—wait, what?”

“That’s fine,” you repeat. “I’m not trying to tell you to just get over it or whatever because she was nice to me. Like Em told me, you’re allowed to be mad.”

Spencer bites his lip, resisting the urge to ask you to stop calling her Em. You’re the only one that calls her that—or rather, is allowed to call her that, and it’s obvious why. It’s also similar enough to you calling him Spence that he’ll always start comparing himself to Emily when he hears it, and he’s been trying to stop doing that for months.

“Maybe you just, I don’t know,” you continue, drawing him out of his thoughts. “You could just try to be a little less passive aggressive with JJ?”

He opens his mouth, about to flat-out refuse, but before he can, you tack on, “For me? Just a little bit?”

God damn it.

“Only if she stops bothering me,” he says bluntly.

“Yeah, she, um… she was crying when I left, so I think she’s got the message now,” you say quietly.

He feels a bit guilty upon hearing that, but not enough to apologize, or even really regret it. I told her I didn’t want to talk about it, he rationalizes to himself. She’s the one who decided to push it anyways.

After a few moments of silence, you reach out and pat his knee. “I love you, you know.”

He knows what you mean, knows that you don’t mean it like that, but his heart still skips a beat. He responds to you with a nod.

You push yourself to your feet, tell him to take all the time he needs, and you’ll see him when he’s ready to come back in, then walk away.

When he’s certain you’re out of earshot, he whispers back, “I love you, too.”

---

Emily sits down across from him on the plane, and Spencer is immediately reminded of the morning after he caught you and her together. That time, Emily had folded her hands in front of her on the table. This time, she slides something across it to him. He looks up from his book and sees his missing tie, wrinkles ironed out and folded neatly.

“It was in her bed,” she explains when his brow furrows.

Spencer wonders if that made Emily jealous.

He’s not a good enough person to not hope it did.

“Thanks,” he mutters, putting it away in his bag.

Emily’s quiet, but she doesn’t leave. She must have something else to say. He sighs. “What is it?”  

“Are you going to Rossi’s house tomorrow night?” she asks.

He looks back down to his book. “I don’t know. I’m not so sure I can make it.”

“Okay. Well, Reid, you can be mad at me for as long as you need to. I’m okay with that.”

Spencer frowns. He kind of wishes she wasn’t being so nice and understanding. It makes it harder to be upset with her, and he wants to be upset with her.

“I’d like to say something to you, though, if that’s okay,” she says.

He reluctantly looks back up. “What?”

Emily holds his gaze. “Thank you,” she says earnestly.

He blinks. “Uh, for what?”

Her voice wavers slightly with emotion as she speaks. “For looking out for her when I couldn’t.”

His eyes drift away from Emily and to the couch where you’re sleeping. “My pleasure,” he replies quietly. When he looks back at Emily, she has a curious look on her face.

For the first time, instead of panicking over keeping his secret, instead of shying away, Spencer looks right back at her. A few seconds later, he thinks he sees a flash of realization in her eyes, but it’s so quick he can’t be sure.

“Well, thank you,” she repeats, and takes her leave. He watches as she leans down and tucks the blanket closer around you. He closes his eyes, leans back in his seat, and imagines a world where he was the one adjusting it instead.

---

“You’re gonna go weeks, months even, feeling fine. And then you’re gonna have a bad day.”

Emily can barely get the hotel room door open, her hands are shaking so much. A bad day. What Hotch called it, she thinks, was a bit of an understatement.

She’s just come back from taking a witness statement to help wrap up the piano man case—or rather, she was trying to take one.

“I was told that you would only give your statement to me.”

“Why didn’t you let me pull the trigger?” Regina asks.

“Because you would be in prison.” Emily understands why Regina is mad at her, and she’s fine with taking the brunt of it. Lying to her to stop her from shooting the unsub was the right thing to do. “I know it’s hard--”

“No, you don’t. You have no idea what it’s like…” Regina pauses briefly, anger radiating off of her. “When the monster from your nightmares comes back for you.”

Emily breaks eye contact and looks down. She knows exactly what that’s like.

Regina recognizes it. “Wait--”

Redirect, redirect, redirect. “Look, I’m here as a courtesy--”

“Something happened to you.”

“So do you want to give me your statement or not?”

But Regina is relentless. “What did you do to him, huh? Did you arrest him like a good FBI agent? Or did you kill him?”

Emily sits down heavily on the spare bed, drawing your attention away from packing up your things for the flight home. “Em?”

She just shakes her head, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees and closing her eyes. “It was the right thing,” she whispers to herself. “It was the right thing. I did the right thing.”

You sit down next to her and place your hand on her back. “What happened?”

Emily swallows hard, feeling sick to her stomach. Her hair is sticking to the back of her neck; she tilts her head to try and dislodge it. You catch on and pull it to the side for her.

“Talk to me, baby,” you urge gently. “Just something, anything I can do to help.”

She takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm down enough to speak. “I—I think,” she stutters. “I th—think I just ruined a woman’s pe—peace of m—mind for good.”

You start rubbing circles on her back and ask, “How?”

“You know, when they talk about victims getting revictimized by the system, they mean you.”

Emily shudders involuntarily. “I… you know how we found the unsub with a—a victim?”

Slowly, in sentences fractured by gasping breaths, swallows to hold back the nausea, and even a few sobs, she recounts what Regina said to her.

You murmur something under your breath that she doesn’t catch, then, ever so gently, you pull her into your arms.

Emily Prentiss isn’t one to break down, not in her own home and especially not in front of others. She controls any “negative” emotions as best as she can, her feelings only displayed through a trembling voice, misty eyes, or run-down nails. Screaming, tears, and nervous gestures were not befitting of an ambassador’s daughter, after all, and those habits formed in childhood have stayed with her until this day.

But there’s one person who’s the exception. There’s one person with whom those walls just don’t seem to exist. That person, of course, is you.

You pull her into your arms, and Emily Prentiss breaks down, because she can. She can because she knows you’ll be there to help put her back together again.

“You never had a chance to mourn your own death, did you?”

She hadn’t understood what her therapist meant when she said it yesterday morning, but Emily thinks she does now. This time last year, what Regina said would have unsettled her, and she would have felt sorry for her, but she probably wouldn’t have dwelt on it much. It’s not last year, though. It’s this year, and she’s coming undone in your embrace over Regina’s words, words she knows will never leave her.

“I didn’t pull the trigger.”

“Still… your monster’s dead. I have to live with mine. That’s my statement.”

Emily has a promise to keep, so she boards the jet early. A few minutes later, Hotch slides into the seat across from her and waits. It still takes her a few moments to collect herself enough to say the words.

“I’m having a bad day.”

---

Spencer’s not sure if you’re going to be able to keep doing this job. He became very familiar with your nervous tics and outward signs of stress during those weeks, and now he can notice them almost immediately.

You seemed okay for the first few months. A few habits cropped up now and then—biting your lip, tapping each fingertip to your thumb in turn—but that was fairly normal. It’s a stressful job.

But then your bottom lip starts getting chapped again, and during conversions with anyone other than Emily, you’re quiet; you often have to be prompted to share your thoughts.

He tries to find out what’s wrong, but when he asks, you shut it down. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” he says quietly. “But, um, you probably should talk to… somebody, you know?”

You barely look up from your paperwork as you respond. “I appreciate the concern, but I’ve been seeing a therapist since this whole shitshow started. I’ve got Emily, too. If anything, I should be telling you to go talk to a professional.”

Spencer just says “okay” again, then a few minutes later he excuses himself to go hide in the bathroom and nurse his hurt feelings. He knows you weren’t trying to be mean. Flipping around the suggestion to him most certainly came from a place of love. But he’s not interested in receiving any kind of psychiatric care—he’s actively opposed to it. So being told anything of that sort upsets him and often makes him angry.

Today it’s just salt in the wound, though. The wound itself is Emily. And god, does he ever feel guilty about the resentment that crops up every time her name is in your mouth. She was dead, and every day she was gone, he wished she weren’t. He cried countless tears over her and would’ve given anything to at least be able to say goodbye.

Then the impossible happened—she came back. He didn’t have to say goodbye at all. And sure, there was the initial relief and happiness, and the warmest hug ever, but now he finds himself resenting her. He’d never wish for her to be gone again, but he can’t stop the jealousy, no matter how hard he tries.

Recently, when Emily was shot during a case in California, he held back your hair as you leaned out of the door of the SUV and threw up upon receiving the news. Spencer Reid would never deny that he’s a germaphobe, but he wants that. He wants to be the one taking care of you, the one whose shoulder you fall asleep on, the one going home with you at the end of the day.

He doesn’t want Emily gone, never, ever again, but he wants you back. Those ten weeks, as awful as they were, weren’t the worst he’s had, because during that time, you were always seeking him out. He knows you didn’t want him that way, but if Emily had really been gone, he thinks one day, that might have changed. The thought always brings tears to his eyes.

Still, he would settle for having you the way he did during the years before he fell for you. Things just haven’t been the same since Emily came back. You don’t stay up late talking anymore. You haven’t a movie night in months. You don’t ask about the books he’s reading or what he did over the weekend. This is it: this is exactly what he was afraid of happening when he found you with Emily.

Spencer doesn’t think it’s personal. He thinks it’s because you’re barely hanging on these days, and just don’t have the energy anymore to do things like you used to.

It still hurts, though. He wonders if it’ll ever stop hurting.

---

Respite can come at the strangest of times and in the oddest of ways. Today, it comes to Emily in the middle of a hostage situation at a bank, in the form of a job offer.

The team is trying to find the I.D. of the Queen of Hearts, one of the robbers, when she gets a surprise call from Clyde Easter, her old Interpol Unit Chief, who gives her the information he knows about the unsub. He doesn’t know her name, but he reminds her that she’s seen the unsub before, at a robbery in Paris while she was living there. Then when the team learns that their unsubs want to fly out to Chad, she calls him back.

“Well, unfortunately Interpol doesn’t have many assets in that particular region in Africa. Maybe that’s something you could help me with when this is over.”

Emily scoffs. “Work for Interpol again? That’ll be the day.”

“Not work, darling. Run,” he corrects. “You see, I’ve been promoted. So, the team’s yours whenever you want it.”

“It’s a hell of a time to bring that up,” she says, ignoring the questioning glances she’s getting from you, Reid, and JJ.

Clyde asks her to think about it, but there’s no time to do that now. She pushes it to the back of her mind and goes back to work.

By the time the day is over, she’s tired. Just tired. You both narrowly survive the explosion in the bank thanks to the alcove you were in, trying to help two elderly patrons. Then a mere hour later, you scare the shit out of her by finding Will strapped to an active bomb and deactivating it yourself. So Clyde’s offer doesn’t come up again until the next morning, when light is spilling through the curtains, illuminating the bedroom with a soft, warm glow.

You face each other in bed, legs twined together under the covers. “What was that about working for Interpol again?” you ask softly, tucking your arm under your head.

“Clyde was promoted,” she replies just as quietly, as to not disturb the peaceful morning feeling. “He offered me his old job. He wants me to run the London office.”

Your eyes widen. “Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“How are you feeling about that?”

Emily blows out a breath. “I’d like to at least… consider it.”

You reach out, finding her hand in the sheets and lacing your fingers between hers. “What’s stopping you?”

“I’m sure you can guess,” she replies, squeezing your hand back.

“Well, then I think you’re more than just considering it,” you say. “You wouldn’t bring it to me if you didn’t want to take the job.”

Emily thinks for a moment, then admits, “I… I do want to take it. But I have to know what you think, honestly.” She was already robbed out of making one life-changing decision without you in this past year. She has no interest in that happening again.

“Honestly?” you repeat, shifting a little. At her nod, you continue, “I think it’s a good option for us.”

“Us?” she asks, eyebrows raising.

“Yeah, us,” you affirm. “What, you think I’m just going to stay here if you move away?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know, maybe. This is the first time we’ve talked about something like this.”

“Fair point,” you say, then sigh. “We’re… both struggling here in D.C., Em. I know it and you know it. This place, this team. It used to be my home, but now, I just… it’s not like it was before.”

“You don’t trust Hotch anymore,” Emily says quietly.

You let out a small, broken chuckle. “I’ve tried. I’ve been trying so hard. I know he did what he thought he had to, but I just… I can’t.”

“It’s okay to feel that way,” she points out. She lets go of your hand to reach up and wipe away a tear that breaks your lash line. “In fact, I’d say it’s reasonable, with what you went through.”

You close your eyes and nod, putting your hand on top of hers to keep it on your cheek. “I know it’s been hard for you, too.”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “I wanted to come back, and at first, I felt like I was home. But I just can’t go back to my old life and pretend that nothing happened. The only time I feel at home now is… well, it’s when I’m alone with you, just like this.”

“Emily Prentiss, I had no idea you were such a romantic,” you say, cracking a smile.

“Oh, stop,” she says, but she’s blushing. When your giggles subside, she speaks again. “I would love for you to come to London with me. But I don’t want you to forget what you’d be leaving. There’s still a lot of good here.”

You nod. “There is. I’m just not sure it’s enough anymore,” you say softly.

“I understand. You can think about it. I don’t need an answer now.”

So you don’t give her one, not right away. But you do a few hours later. So Emily picks up her phone and dials Clyde’s number.

---

JJ’s a beautiful bride, but Spencer’s eyes keep drifting over to you. The dress you’re wearing tonight is wonderful; from the cut to the color, it suits you perfectly. But that’s not what’s really got his attention. It’s the way you’re carrying yourself. You’re smiling, and you seem truly happy, without any reservations. But there’s also a bit of sadness clinging to you, and he can’t tell what’s causing it.

The party has been going on for a while by the time he finds himself dancing with you. You’d asked him, and now you’ve steered him a little ways away from everyone else. “There’s something I have to tell you,” you say just as he’s about to ask what’s going on.

To his dismay, he doesn’t have a clue what it’s going to be. He doesn’t like not having at least an idea. He swallows, then says, “Okay.”

You can’t meet his eyes; you look down to the floor instead and watch your feet move in time together. So whatever it is, I’m not going to like it, he thinks, and his anxiety spikes. “What is it?” he asks, tightening his grip on you without really meaning to.

You take a deep breath, then look up. “Emily and I are leaving.”

His heart drops and he stops in his tracks, causing you to stumble a little over his feet. “Oh, shi—sorry,” he says. “I just—you’re leaving the BAU? But you’re still going to be in D.C., right?”

You sigh, then guide him off the dance floor and to a quiet spot not too far away. “You remember what Emily said about working for Interpol again yesterday?”

“Interpol?” he repeats, his voice pitching upwards. “You mean, like, overseas?”

“London, to be specific.”

He opens his mouth but nothing comes out. He doesn’t know what to say. Things were a little rocky between you and him when Emily came back, and for a little while afterwards, sure, but recently he’d started to feel like he had his best friend back.

Apparently he couldn’t be more wrong.

Spencer’s used to people leaving. First it was his dad, then Ethan. Elle was next, quickly followed by Gideon. JJ was forced out, and although she ended up coming back, it didn’t erase the pain he felt in her absence. And then there was everything that happened with Emily.

So, Spencer’s used to people leaving. In a way, he almost expects it.

He just wishes it would stop hurting so damn much.

What is it about me? he wonders. What is it that makes people run away? There’s clearly something wrong with--

“Hey!”

He jumps, startled out of his introspection. When his eyes refocus on you, you put your hands on your hips.

“I don’t appreciate people being mean to my best friend, you know,” you tell him seriously.

“Uh…” He blinks a few times. “I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

“That includes him being mean to himself,” you continue. “I know what you were thinking.”

“What? No, you don’t,” he protests.

“Don’t I?” You put the tip of your finger on your chin. “Was it or was it not something along the lines of, people always leave me, why do they do that, there must be something wrong with me?”

He hates that you’re right, so he doesn’t answer, just scowls and looks away.

“It’s not true, you know.”

“Sure,” he mutters. Sure it isn’t. You’ve only just added your name to the list.

“I mean it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Look at me.”

Spencer doesn’t, and your resulting sigh sounds so frustrated, and then he thinks, Oh, great work, Reid. (Y/N) tells you she’s leaving and what do you do? You piss her off. Honestly, it’s no wonder--

And then your hands are on his face, cradling his cheeks, and he’s too surprised to resist your gaze anymore.

“It’s not your fault, Spencer,” you say, your voice equal parts firm and gentle. “You didn’t drive me away. Not even close. There’s nothing inherently wrong with you, okay? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He sniffs, trying to hold back the sudden onslaught of emotions you’ve just caused. “Well, I could have gone without picking a fight with you on our first day back at work,” he says, sniffling again.

“What’re you tal—Spencer, that was almost a year ago.”

“Nine months.”

“Whatever. The point still stands. You’re not why I’m leaving, okay? You’re…” you trail off and he’s alarmed to see your eyes grow wet. “You’re the opposite, actually. You were the only thing keeping me here when Emily was gone. And now, you’re why it’s so hard to leave.”

“I am?” he whispers before he can think better of it.

“You are,” you affirm. “I think Emily’s actually a little worried you’re gonna talk me out of it.”

It gets a laugh out of him, but right after a little sob escapes him and he squeezes his eyes shut. When you hug him, he immediately reciprocates, wrapping his arms around your middle tightly.

“Hey, this isn’t the end, okay?” you say, and he can tell from the way your voice is trembling that you’re crying, too. “I know you like to ignore it, but we do live in the digital age, and I’ll be hounding you to talk to me at least once a week. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“I’d certainly hope not,” he murmurs, resting his head on your shoulder.

The two of you stay like that for a while, just holding each other, trying not to cry too much. Eventually, you pull away. “Besides, it’s not like I’m leaving first thing in the morning. Our flight isn’t for another ten days. I’m gonna be around.”

Spencer nods. “Okay.”

“Okay,” you repeat, then swipe at your face, clearing away the tears. “Um, we should head back. You still owe me a dance.”

And dance with you he does, swaying gently from side to side with his hand resting on your waist. A look over your shoulder shows Emily and Derek dancing in a similar manner; judging by the way he’s holding her, she told him the news as well.

He has an eidetic memory, but Spencer makes the effort to commit this moment to his brain all the same. He wants to remember the way you’re holding him, resting your head on his chest and running your thumb over the back of his hand every so often. He wants to remember how your skin feels against his, the texture of your hair. The lighting in the backyard and the way it makes you glow. The words that you said, telling him that it’s not his fault, that nothing’s wrong with him. He’s not quite sure he believes it, but you’ve never lied to him before, so he’ll try to accept it.

The song ends, and tears threaten to fall again when you pick up your head and take a step back.

“Hey, no more crying tonight,” you say. “Because if you start crying, I’ll start crying, and I don’t want to cry any more tonight. Save it for my grand exit at the airport terminal.”

That makes him break into a smile and he’s able to blink back the tears. “Okay.”

“Do you mind if I take this dance?” It’s Emily, and she’s looking at him, head tilted in your direction.

“Oh, um.” He clears his throat. “No, um, go—go ahead.”

He passes your hand to her, and what he feels is silly. You’re not some prize to be won; you don’t belong to anyone other than yourself. But he feels like he’s passing you off to Emily, almost… entrusting you to her. The look Emily gives him makes him think she understands this.

“Wait,” you say before she can properly take you into her arms. You lean towards him and press a kiss to his cheek.

Spencer doesn’t stay around to watch you two dance. He retreats back into the house, fingertips on the spot you kissed. He lets them sit there for a moment, then forces himself to drop his hand. It’s far past time for him to try and move on. He doesn’t want you to leave, but it might be what he needs.

Maybe, just maybe, with some distance, he can begin to heal.

---

On the first day at work without you, Spencer finds a small frame on his desk. He immediately recognizes the picture inside of it—it’s the one you’d kept as your lockscreen for months, much to his dismay.

It’s a picture from the relatively early days of your friendship, well before he felt anything that wasn’t platonic towards you. You’d dragged him out on a weekend off to a nearby amusement park, because, “you can’t die without having ridden a roller coaster at least once, Spence.” He had no desire to do so, but he didn’t have any other plans, so he went along with it.

The roller coaster ended up making him vomit, and the picture is from shortly after that. You’re holding up the camera with one hand and making a peace sign with the other, smiling from ear to ear. He still looks a little queasy, only managing a small smile, but he still looks somewhat happy. And he was, that day. Other than the nausea, he’d had a lot of fun with you.

He picks up the frame and feels something on the back of it. He flips it over and finds one of his lilac colored post-it notes, displaying your handwriting.

“When it’s time to go, remember what you’re leaving. Remember the best. My friends have always been the best of me.”

Tears blur his vision. Doctor Who. Of course you picked Doctor Who. And you’ve written something else, too, in smaller letters:

If you don’t answer my calls at least twice a month, I’ll tell JJ you’ve been stealing from her Cheetos stash for eight years. Love ya.

He laughs out loud, a little wet giggle that he has to follow up with a sniffle. He slips the note under the frame’s felt backing to keep it safe, then rearranges his things until he settles on the perfect spot for it to sit on his desk. He retrieves a fresh sticky note and scribbles down a reminder to himself to call you when he gets home, sticking it the cover of one of his books. After all, he can’t have JJ knowing about his thievery. The team’s good at what they do, but he doesn’t think anyone would be able to find his body once JJ’s done with him.

His eyes drift back to the photograph, coming to a stop on your face. He misses you already. He even misses the ugly bits, when you’d snapped at each other, when you were crying on his shoulder. When he saw you with Emily that first time. It’s an odd mix of emotions. Longing, nostalgia, grief, happiness, safety. Belonging.

Remember the best. My friends have always been the best of me.

Spencer couldn’t agree more.

---------------

tell me what you thought here!

oh my god, i can hardly believe it’s over. there’s still going to be a small epilogue, but it’s optional. thank you, thank you, thank you, to everyone who read and supported this series and your enthusiasm for it. you’ve made me so very happy. and if you relate to spencer in this, i want you to know you’re gonna find your someone someday. if that’s what you want, i believe you’ll find it eventually. much love to all of you. 💖

series taglist: @sobereinstein , @zizzlekwum , @goldensatine , @closetedreidstan , @afuckingshituniverse , @uswntxx , @johnmulaneyslut , @90spumkin , @mcntsee , @zhuzhubii , @shadyladyperfection , @mggbler , @eva-cadeau , @esmesisle , @anothergayinthelife , @wecouldbreakthedistance , @zozoleesi , @calm-and-doctor , i think that’s everyone?? so sorry if i missed you.

[wh6res]

steel trap | haechan

%☆#!* it was something right out of a fairy tail, only there was no plot twist and there was no happy ending.

peep @go-shotaro's spin-off of this! <3

it was something right out of a fairy tail, only there was no plot twist and there was no happy ending, not one for a side character like you. because you were sure as hell that you’re the side character, because if you weren’t, you wouldn’t be lying face down on the grimy floors of your own castle’s dungeons. the smell is utterly horrible, a mixture of blood and sweat and other… other excrements you’d rather not state.

that little traitorous bastard made sure you’ll hear and see no one when he had his minions throw you in here. isolated, alone, away from the rest of your father’s whole monarchy whom he decided to imprison someplace else.

but what you hated the most wasn’t the smell, or the dark, nor was it the reinforced steel bars keeping you locked in here, gaps so narrow your elbow catches when you push your arm through.

it was the steel trap hanging by four chains cemented onto the ceiling. it's hardly that big. it’s composition looked akin to what hunters used to trap rodents with but you’ve yet to see rodents that can accomodate that big of a trap. at best, it looked like it can fit bigger dogs—a trap? or a cage? you don’t know. you didn’t want to know.

a door opens and you hear boots pattering against wet cement. judging by the echoing footsteps, there were four people coming—it was always four, you’ve noticed. three of his men, one on each side, one guarding the back, and finally, that monster who leads the pack.

on a regular occasion, you would’ve snarled and faced him head on but the emotions bubbling inside of you are different when you know he’s here to remind you once again where you now lie in the food chain. you have this urge to hit your head against the wall everytime a certain memory resurfaces in your mind.

the night of the raid. the night your parents were assasinated and your family’s reign has met it’s end. from your silken sheets, layered gowns, and seven-course meals to dirty rags that you bet has never been laundered, to stale bread and a cup of water a day.

you could still feel the ghosts of his nimble fingers. one had feathered up your thighs, the other had slipped under the straps of your silk nightgown. no more hallways, no more secret passages, no more dirty tricks. he caught you, fair and square.

he took you that night, defiled and sunk you deep into something your own country will never be proud of—a whore. how dirty you had felt when he forced his fingers into you and made you beg. and beg. and beg. go on, beg for it, your highness. beg for my cock like a bitch!

but your deepest nightmares only truly began when he had forced you to get in that modified rodent trap hanging off the ceiling with your knees curled underneath you and your arms tucked in. he made you suck him off, abused your throat and called you his pretty thing when he painted your face with his cum. gross. when you had tried wiping it off, he had rattled the cage so hard your temples hits the criss-crossing bars.

he had only told you one thing, that night. face and voice void of any lighthearted amusement as he bends down and coos into your ear like a lover. “remember, this is your place now. below me, below dirt. what's wrong with treating a bitch like how a bitch should be treated?”

but you didn’t remember. didn’t put much heed into his words. you only made it five full sprints across the palace garden when his guards took you down and threw you back in here. he’s come back with a clear purpose of putting you back into your place.

only him alone enters your cell, his three guards stationing themselves a few feet in front of the steel bars, backs turned.

his eyes sparkled in delight to see you squirming backwards against the moist walls like some frightened animal, whimpering and calling for his name in the most reverent manner that he thought you were praying. he doesn’t need to touch you to know you’re body is wracking in unadulterated fear.

“haechan,” you sob. “haechan, please—please! i’m sorry…”

he clicks his tongue, shaking his head in disappointment. darling, oh darling, this kind of begging won’t save you but it’s highly appreciated all the same. haechan’s boots thundered like a death march as he made his way towards you, fisting your hair to manually crane your head back. you hate looking into his eyes, hate seeing the reflection of your terrified self, stripped off of all the titles you once owned.

“hmm,” he hums, mockingly. “i think my bitch is in dire need of a reminder.”

when he shoves you forward, landing right in front of your steel cage, you waste no time clambering in.

[legendaryoikawa]

eros 1: love is a bitch / oikawa tooru / eros masterlist 

pairing: oikawa x female reader

word count: 2,665k

synopsis: lingerie shopping is the activity you’ve thought to kill time while your boyfriend was away for his games. little did you know while you were trying on the piece from victoria’s secret, came in oikawa tooru, fresh with his dick turned on upon the sight of your fat ass.

genre: boyfriend!oikawa, smut, pwp (mirror sex, penetration, strip tease, dirty banters, profanities, nsfw themes)

minors dni

taglist: @boosyboo9206 @dokisaki (can’t tag) @godjo @flavostella02 @heykoutaro (can’t tag) @aleacarnin @licitix @katsukis-sad-angel @k-sakura @dokisuki (can’t tag) @black-water-78 @throughtheinterstices @iloverarepares @newfriendjen @aizawaslovebot @ratatouille407 @midnightartist​ @ya-kkun​ @daicrie​ @mochipk​ @kanesshiiweeb​ @134340-cm​ @svgafresh​ @annexerca​ @neavil​ @paigypol (can’t tag) @aggressivelyshoutsokay​ thank you for the love and support!

BE PART OF MY TAGLIST HERE 

You let out a sigh. Exactly twenty five days and fourteen hours pass by and you’re still alone in your apartment complex. You receive nothing; no calls or texts from him. No trace of your boyfriend, Oikawa. Today is his supposed arrival from his training camp but there you are, alone.

The vibrant pink paper bag sits on top of the kitchen island. A lacy lingerie that you manage to haul for half its original price. You know Oikawa will definitely love seeing you in those fits. However you couldn’t help but to feel upset, given the fact that the day is close to conclusion yet, he is still nowhere to be found. What good does it even do to try out the recent lingerie you just bought when Oikawa isn’t even home? It’s like dolling up in front of a ghost. The reaction you expect won’t be thrown out against you. And it upsets you to the core.

But the mere fact you have already gone out of the trouble. To the extent of making an impulsive purchase of buying lingerie got you changing your mind on the spot. To hell be damned, you’ll be trying out the garment, without him or not.

Huffing, you approached the island to grab on the bag. Fishing out the black piece-- it is really beautiful engraved with little gems on the straps and lace on the cups. You didn’t bother going to the bathroom to change. Carefully, you removed your top then your pants. Sliding the lingerie up onto your body isn’t much of a trouble though, but your attention is entirely focused on the straps that you barely notice the movement of the door knob.

The soft footsteps padding through the hall alerts you as you finish tucking in the last strap from behind. There is a pause and it hits every single nerve in your body. You let out a slow exhale, fumbling with the ends of your hair as you feel the looming presence slowly approaching you from behind.

You hear his breath slowly fanning the delicate skin of your neck. You try to close your eyes, trying to act composed as if his presence isn’t something that dominates or overwhelms you. But he is what he is. Even the slow, soft breaths from him never fail to elicit a reaction from you. “This is really something I wasn’t expecting, at all,” he begins slowly. Your breath hitches as you try to think of a possible counterattack to throw against him, making you wait for days. But your body seems to have betrayed you the moment Oikawa set foot in your shared complex. Barely making anything, but you were already growing too flustered.

There is a long pause. You are trying to contain yourself, desperately searching for words. Soft breaths filling in the silence on the dim and quiet hall.

“Who said this was for you?” You begin slowly. Enunciating your words with emphasis while you slowly spin your heel to face him completely. The sight of him never fails to leave you breathless. You let out a quiet yelp when he took one daring step towards you. The soft surface of the granite counter sends a cooling sensation to your spine. You close your eyes, feeling the hot fanning of his minty breath against your face as he drags his words out, “And what if I do something to gain you?”

You are pretty sure it is an innuendo and you didn’t grapple to change the mood between the two of you. You raise a challenging brow, tilting your head backwards as if pushing his buttons further, “And what are you going to do?”

A playful smile tugs his lips. His tone changes into something richer, deeper and dangerous shades of velvet. You try to calm yourself, trying to steady your breathing. Oikawa is someone as bubbly, bright as the morning sun packed with his usual pride. But this time, his tone got your belly swirling with a heavy sensation of pleasure. Your heart makes a beeline to your throat as you wait for his next moves. He inquires slowly, “Mind if I make it up to you?” He calmly states while exuding up smug superiority. As he always should.

You let out an exasperated breath. Playing hard to get when Oikawa is looking too hot and offensive is something too hard for you to contain. Too hard to resist. Too hard to hold in much further.

“As long... as it’s worth the days of your absence, then it’s... fine,” you finally say.

He smirks. Lifting his hand to cup your face, he lets out a slow breath followed by a desperate call of your name. Chuckling, he begins, “You’ll never know how I kept on waiting for the training to end…” he tilts his head, examining your half naked figure. “And to see you in this fucking clothes makes me want to fuck you… right here, right now. Did you really dress up like this to impress your king, huh?” Your cheeks immediately burn upon hearing his words. The way he dominates you. You want him now too, so bad.

You decide to play along with him. Swallowing and engulfing— the sexual tension around is insurmountable. You know he’s doing this to tease you. And you don’t want to give him what he wants, that easily. “What if I said I did? Are you happy with this?” You run up a hand starting to your hip upward to your breasts, cupping them gingerly. Oikawa’s eyes follow every moment of your hand, his gaze pinned down onto your breasts. What a fucking tease, he thought especially when you leaned down to give him a full sight of what is beneath the flimsy garment.

He smirks at your boldness, “I do. I love the design, too bad they’ll be ripped out open as soon as I’ll lay my hands on them.” He sucks a sharp intake of breath. He’s growing impatient yet there is no sign of submission from you yet.

“Who says I’m allowing you to lay hands on these? On me?” You laugh breathlessly. Amusement lacing onto your tone. However, Oikawa isn’t having it. Not to mention his growing bulge.

He scoffs, already fed up. Annoyed at the playful banters thrown between you. He couldn’t hold another round of him playing coy, especially not in this current situation where you’re almost wearing nothing at all.

“Cat got your tongu—?”

He snaps. “How are you holding in? Are your little panties already wet over me?” He speaks confidently, looking down at your figure. “Come on now, give in to me like the little good girl you are.”

The last statement of his took you off-guard. You try to stand up straight however it looks like you are just feigning confidence especially that you cannot maintain eye contact with him. You manage to blurt out, despite the failed attempt at concealing your flustered state. Oikawa watches you, with a condescending smirk on his lips, hands resting on his nape. “Do you really think you deserve any of this? I think not,” you manage to spit out.

You see how his expression changed. Nostrils flaring. His expression darkening. You know you’ve pushed his limits now that he is clenching his jaw then suddenly attacking you, catching you by surprise. You feel his hot lips pressed against yours. Deliciously hot, hard, with a notable sky-high passion. Your hands creep up and clinged on his jersey, catching a fistful of his garment for support. He withdraws to breathe and continues to attack you barely even letting you breathe. His kisses were sloppy, all slippery. Oikawa is the drug you cannot afford to remove out of your life, he’s making you intoxicated with only just his mouth. Just his mouth.

You let out a moan when you felt his hands gripping your hips tightly. Then, he turns you suddenly that made your eyes widen. You feel the growing bulge sticking onto your ass as he presses his body onto yours. Burrowing his face onto the crook of your neck. You lean onto him, your head resting onto his shoulders as he attacks your neck from behind. Sucking and nimbling. Low breathes and moans. Hickies are adorning your neck like fresh flowers with hues of violet, blue and red. Fresh. Oikawa breathes through your nape, and slowly smiles onto your neck.

He whispers, “look at the mirror, baby.”

Confused, you lift your head and saw your reflection staring back at you. The same dishevelled, you. Oikawa grins as he slids his hands down your frame. Adoring the way he elicited a reaction from you. With an expert flick of his calloused hands, the lingerie is already removed from you, that fast and easy. The chilly air from the open window sends a tingling sensation against your naked torso.

“Fuck. Look at you,” he grins. “I want to fuck you in front of the mirror so badly but i need you inside me, now.” There’s a hint of urgency in his voice. He pushes you towards the nearby counter and swoops you easily to place you onto the cold granite surface. You instinctively wrap your legs around his hips while he continues to attack you.

You moan into his mouth when you felt his hand running over your thighs. You are growing desperate and needy after his teasing touches. He bits onto your mouth as he shamelessly grinds his crotch onto your clothed pussy. “Love that?” He says between his breathes.

You’re pooling with lust and arousal. With him panting everytime he comes in contact with your heat. And his expression. He leans in further, inhaling your neck, “Damn. You always smell so good.” He breathes loud and grazes his teeth onto your sweet spot. Sucking and marking as he pleases, “I need you off the counter now.”

He pulls you off and turns you around again. He takes a fistful of you hair to whisper directly onto your ear. “I hate begging. But, may I proceed to fuck you with all my fucking might?”

You nod slowly. Pressing yourself onto his crotch, grinding playfully. You can feel his amusement, especially the way you dare to tease him until he was the one to submit to you. You wait for him to move, your hands sweaty against the granite counter. There’s a sound of shuffling— fabric. Oikawa tugs his gym shorts down followed by his black boxers. He takes his cock into his hand, giving it a subtle jerk while his other hand snaking up to pull you undies down your thighs. The sight of you makes him groan, the flesh almost welcoming, he strokes himself again, this time faster.

“I’m on pill,” you begin. Assuring him. You move slowly in your spot, rasping while your wetness drips down your thigs in anticipation. “What’s taking you so long? You’re not serving or anything.”

He sniggers while letting his cock spring free. He pulls the garment down your legs until it tangles into a roll of a lacy garment down down ankles. You kick it away with your right foot and settle on, widening you stance. You feel the rush of excitement coursing through you upon the feeling of his at your entrance. You bit your lip in anticipation.

“My… before you get something you fucking want, what do you need to say first?” He drags out word by word enunciating every syllable slowly down your ear. You close your eyes for a moment, letting out a deep breath. You calmly say, “Please,” while steadying your hands onto the counter’s edge.

He grins in satisfaction. He drawls slowly, praising you, “Very good.” And positions himself by gripping your hips tightly. Judging by the way of his strong hold, it’ll surely leave out marks the next day. Your mind swirls upon the feeling of his sudden entrance in you, breathes being sucked as he draws and takes his time entering your sweet entrance.

After adjusting, he begins by moving his lips in a slow manner. Then taking you by surprise by exerting in sharp, fast thrust. You feel your thighs coming in contact with the cold counter. You let out soft moans and incoherent cusses filling out the silent room. He encircles his finger down your clit making you gasp for air.

He bucks down roughly onto you. His other hand encircling and busy with your clit. While his other hand is cupping your breast. You moan out shamelessly, cussing him out as the waves of pleasure bubbles down your belly. Coursing like a river.

“Fucking hell. You feel so good.”

You cannot hear him properly as the ragged breathing clouded your hearing. He calls out to you while grinding his hips deeply on you. He moves his left hand to caress your stomach while the other one snakes their way to your hips. Slightly moist with your juices. You whimper while your head drops down. Breast juggling after each of his pounces.

His voice is stiff. “I’m going closs.” His breathing is strained every after his words. You shake your head no, panting hard. He clicks his tongue and works his fingers around your clit, again. Rubbing till you jolt at the intensity of his touch. Gooseflesh has risen up the skin along your hot flesh.

He picks up speed. His thrust deep and hard— a loop of never-ending pounce that you wanted to moan out loud in pleasure. You can feel his sharp poke of his hip bone colliding against the flesh of your ass. You bosom moving after his movements. You let out a breathy whine as your orgasm is approaching fast. You grab his left hand that is groping your chest to hold for support. Digging your nails onto his forearms as you felt the tightening knot forming in your belly.

He let out a strain cuss from behind as you cum. The feeling of your walls surrounding him made him feel high in ecstasy. He pulls out instantly when he cums, his hands freeing away from your body to stroke his oozing cock. You exhale, feeling the hot, gooey liquid drip down your legs.

You are panting hard. You feel your lungs swell as you try to recollect your breath. Oikawa moves to grab a clean towel to clean himself up. Amidst his act of cleansing himself over, you feel him tugging your panties back on for you, planting small kisses along the inner flesh of your thighs.

“Are you fine, baby?” You stand up, trying to steady in your shaky legs. Your hands are sweaty, plastered on the counter as you move your head to nod in approval. You work your way to turn and face him. You give him a sweet smile then running your tongue over your lower lip.

He feels his heart tug upon seeing your sight. So serene yet hot at the same time. He gawks at your breasts, your neck full of his marks and he notes how glowing you are even the aftermath of his relentless fucking.

He leans forward to nibble on your lower lip, then proceeds to kiss you fully in the lips. You can feel your legs crumpling at the romantic gesture, you immediately held onto him for support.

He raises a brow, “Does that make up for my absence?”

You let out a shaky laugh. He tilts his head in confusion. Instead of answering him, you bit on your lip while pressing your thighs together. Your gestures alone are more than just answers to his question. He just needs a consent from you may that be verbal or gestures.

You look up at him, “Aren’t you tired?”

“Baby, I’m an athlete. We’re just starting.”

He grins while tugging you upstairs. Fucking you until you pass out of exhaustion. He really did make up for his absence to the point that you couldn’t walk the next day.

note: i apologize for some grammatical error bdhdhd thank you for 300! also sorry for me being so shit at smut, i tried HAHA

[inskz]

lucky charm - lee minho

pairing - lee minho x reader

genre - college!au, best friends to lovers, very cliche fluff (lucky girl starring lindsey lohan kinda vibes???)

words - 4k

note - this is just a cute little drabble i wrote while im still waiting for my covid test results to come back so that i can leave my room and see the sun again 🤪 pls be careful everybody take care of your health 💚 enjoy!!!

- - - - -

“You must be kidding me,” you sigh when you see Minho’s hand has turned into a fist, his rock crushing miserably your scissors. Once again, you lost at rock, paper, scissors. And once again, you’re the one that is going to wash your best friend’s dishes that have piled up in is tiny kitchen sink throughout the week.

“Fuck that. This is so unfair,” you grumble, throwing the dishtowel in Minho’s stupid yet perfectly chiseled face.

You make a beeline for his bed, which is actually only a few steps away from the kitchen. Being a broke college student definitely doesn’t allow him to rent a spacious studio, let alone a two-room apartment. You throw yourself headfirst onto his uncomfortable mattress, whose springs always poke your back at night.

“Life is so unfair,” your friend mocks you, dragging out every vowel of his sentence dramatically.

No doubt, you would be strangling him at that very moment if you weren’t so busy playing dead, hoping he would forget about your pitiful existence.

But there is no way mister Lee Minho would miss out on an opportunity to have his gross plates cleaned by someone else. Grabbing onto your ankle, he drags you out of bed until you plop down on the dirty carpeted floor (Minho has the unfortunate tendency to procrastinate vacuuming too). At this point, you are fake crying, throwing a literal tantrum, like a 6 years old child would.

“Life is unfair!” you yell, your feet kicking in the air in pure anger.

At least it is to you. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been lucky. The only instance you got remotely close to it was when you found a four-leaf clover last summer. Well, only if you disregard the fact you stepped into dog poop  on your way to picking it. Oh and that you were wearing brand new white Converse. 

On the other hand, it seems like the boy has the whole crew of the Olympus gods on his side. Not one day goes by without his guardian angel manifesting its presence. 

Minho has always been the lucky type. The type to get an extra nugget in his box of 10. To find 20 dollars bills on the ground. To win every single Instagram giveaway he participates to (and lord knows how much he likes participating to them). 

But how can you be mad at him when he always happily shares his food with you, invites you to the restaurant without you even asking, and gives you his prizes, pretending he doesn’t need them? You don’t believe him when he says he see no use in a panda onesie or a waterproof bluetooth speaker. Deep down, you know it’s his way to silently love you. 

But well, you can still blame him for occasionally taking advantage of your misfortune to make you do his dreaded house chores, just like right now. 

Everyone thinks you are a bizarre duo. Even you can’t fathom how in hell you two became best friends, considering how awfully your first encounter went three years ago. 

On orientation day, he asked you for the time, probably because his phone was dead (or maybe because he was dying to talk to you?)

Without hesitation, you lifted and rotated your wrist so that you could see your watch. Little did you remember; you never actually owned a watch and you were holding a fancy 7 dollars iced coffee, which, of course, did not have a lid on because plastic is bad for the environment (duh). 

Minho couldn’t help but burst out in hysterical laughter when the whole drink spilled on your jeans. For your defense, you didn’t sleep at all the night before  since you were terrified of being alone in your new dorm room the first few days (weird stuff happens all the time in dorms, okay?). If he had asked you for your name, you probably wouldn’t even have been able to tell him. 

But Minho thought you were the funniest person on campus, and he really needed a clown like you to entertain him throughout his endless college semesters. That’s what he told you anyways. Not that he thought you were the cutest human being he had ever seen. 

Why would he when you are the literal definition of a mess: always having toothpaste stains on your sweater, bags under your eyes, messy hair, tripping and falling, missing buses, breaking things, losing stuff. 

Most of the time, you just forget your keys and Minho lets you crash at his place since he hasn’t got any roommate and he isn’t used to sleeping alone, especially without his cats. It surely isn’t because he loves waking up next to a very groggy but adorable you every single morning, no.  

Minho manages to bring you back to the countertop despite your reluctance. Positioned behind you, his arms trapping your body to make sure you can’t run away from your duties, he dips your hands into the soapy water, and you can’t help but squirm at the touch of an unknown substance sticking to a plate that has probably been soaking here for a week. You despise doing the dishes and your friend knows it.

You hear him giggle in your ear while he is playing with your arms like you are some type of marionette, making you to take the sponge and squeeze dish soap onto it. 

You’ve never been the kind to like proximity nor seemed to be Minho, but for some reason, you always end up glued to each other. You hate public displays of attention and pet names a little less when it comes from him. Or maybe you don’t hate it at all and actually crave it every single minute that goes by.

Before he has the time to come up with the Machiavellian idea to soak your pajamas in dirty water (because you know he would inevitably have at some point), you yank his hands off of you and start scrubbing angrily the dirty cups. 

Minho stays behind you anyways, observing your every move, his chin propped up on your shoulder like a curious little bird. To be honest, his presence is kind of getting overwhelming. But whatever, it’s not like his slightest touch makes your heart warm up in comfort or that he smells like fresh linen drying out on the porch of a cottage house on a sunny Sunday morning or anything. 

“You missed a spot. Here” he murmurs teasingly, his lips almost touching your earlobe, while he points at the handle of his hideous ‘world’s greatest dad’ mug Jisung gifted him last christmas. 

You know he has noticed the way you shivered violently at the feeling of his breath tickling your skin because he starts snickering loudly. 

“I swear to god if you don’t shut up and go seat on the couch, I’ll slap you so hard with this spatula you’ll regret you were even born,” you say, turning around suddenly to menace him with the plastic utensil. 

Of course, he isn’t afraid one bit. Right now, you really wish you could make the smug, but oh so attractive, look on his face disappear. 

“Alright, ma’am” he laughs, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’ll let you do your thing”. He lets himself fall onto his dingy couch. 

You can hear him humming one of his favorite songs above the sound of the water running. It would probably be getting on your nerves if his voice wasn’t so pretty.  

“Chan’s sick, so we’re not going to the gym tomorrow night. Do you wanna eat tacos? El Huero has even better deals than usual” he asks you, scrolling mindlessly through his phone. 

“Aren’t the deals supposed to be on Tuesdays?” You frown and scrub a little harder the frying pan Minho has burnt the night before while trying to make chocolate chips pancakes for diner, because why eat savory food when you can have dessert for every meal, right? It is one of the few advantages of living without your parents you both truly enjoy. 

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Tomorrow,” he yawns, probably exhausted after what you put him through last night. You forced him to catch up on the entire season of Love Island because you desperately needed someone to bitch with, and what better partner than Lee Minho.  

You take a quick glance at him and see him stretching himself across the cushions like a cat. You always thought there was something feline about his features. While you’re drying the mugs with the dishtowel, your mind wanders uncontrollably, thinking about his piercing eyes, his delicate nose, the corners of his lips that curl up a little… 

All of the sudden, your hands freeze. Minho is too immersed in TikToks to notice the stupor on your face. “Wait. Today is… Monday?” you stutter. 

Alarmed by the sound of your voice, his eyes finally leave his phone’s screen to look up at you. “Yeah” he repeats slowly as if you are the dumbest person he has ever encountered. 

And you truly are. You are pretty sure your heart has stopped beating. Minho’s “world’s greatest dad” mug you’re holding slips between your fingers and comes crashing on the floor with a deafening sound. The pieces are now scattered all around you, making you unable to make out what’s written on it anymore. Not a big loss, if you ask. 

“Y/N, you know that’s my favorite mug!” he exclaims, leaping up from the couch. “I’m sure you did it on purpose,” he mutters while he’s trying to collect the small fragments, in vain. 

But you’re too shocked at this very moment to pay attention to the glare your friend is giving you. To be honest, Minho has only two moods: glaring at you or teasing you.  

“My interview,” you finally manage to say, and Minho’s eyes go wide as he realizes the critical situation you’re in. 

You check the time on the microwave: 10:45. In 30 minutes, you’re supposed to be on the other side of town, being interrogated by boring businessmen that are going to decide whether or not you’ll be accepted for a paid internship in one of the most reputable music label of the country. Basically, decide whether you’ll live a happy and fulfilling life, working in the sector you’ve always dreamed of or end up miserable with a boring office job and a massive college debt. 

“Holy shit,” Minho whispers. You can see a wave of panic washing across his face for a split second, but, as always, he manages to find his composure back immediately. 

He has never been the kind to lose his cool, except to scold you when you forget the names of his cats and their respective coats’ color (which you unfortunately often did forget). 

“What are you doing? Get dressed!” He tells you when he sees you’re still standing there dumbfounded in the kitchen, like the famous Robert Pattinson meme, wearing an oversize Kermit the frog shirt with a dozen holes in it and his favorite Adidas sweatpants you always stole from him.

“No, it’s too late. I can’t make it,” you mutter, your breath short. You’re paralyzed, as if there is a 20lbs rock sitting at the bottom of your stomach, pinning you to the ground. 

This isn’t bad luck, you think. This is karma. This is what you get for skipping classes to watch telereality shows in your bed with your best friend and not even realizing it isn’t the weekend anymore.

“Miss me with that bullshit.” He runs to his closet and rummages through his drawers, throwing every piece of clothing that’s on his way to find an appropriate outfit that would fit you. 

“You’re gonna go do this interview even if I have to drag you all the way there.” He pushes you into his bathroom since you still haven’t moved an inch. 

You manage to brush your teeth and your hair, fighting through the nauseous feeling that is building up in your tummy. 

When you come back to the living room, Minho has found dress pants and a sweater that might not look utterly ridiculous on you. He lets you change in a corner, while he runs around the room collecting all your essentials. 

“You’re coming?” you ask him when you see he is already wearing his puffer jacket.  

“You really think I’m gonna let you go all by yourself when you’re literally not even able to put your shoes on properly”. You are, indeed, struggling with your laces, as if your fingers are suddenly made out of butter. 

Minho ties them up for you and you literally feel like he’s your babysitter. You know you’re gonna hear about this for months – what are you saying- years! But all you can think about at the moment though, is the fact that sneakers are definitely not appropriate for an interview. 

He throws your warmest coat at you, grab his keys, and by some type of miracle, you’re both out to the door in less than 10 minutes. 

You try to call the elevator, but Minho grabs your arm and leads you to the staircase. His hand never leaving yours, he runs down the stairs and you have no choice but to follow him as fast as you can. 

You can’t count how many times you missed a step and fell at this particularly slippery spot, between the 5th and the 4th floor, but weirdly enough, it doesn’t happen today. 

When you finally reach the ground floor, you exit the complex and Minho hops on his old and rusty bike that he had attached to nearest tree the night before.

“There’s no way I’m riding behind you on this death machine,” you laugh nervously. The memory of that one time Minho convinced you to seat into his bicycle basket (as if you could even realistically fit in it) and you both fell seconds after he started to pedal is coming back to your mind.

Sure, it was after a long night of drinking, you were both tipsy and it was the only way to get you home since you had spent all your uber money at the bar, but still! You’re pretty sure the bruise on your butt hasn’t disappeared to this day.  

“Hurry up,” Minho groans, ignoring your complaint. You unwillingly seat on his flimsy pannier rack and wrap your arms around his torso. 

You haven’t even left, yet you’re already holding onto his puffer jacket for dear life. A giggle escapes your friend’s mouth (which you think is very inappropriate in such a desperate situation) before he lifts his feet off the ground and starts pedaling. 

You try to ignore the loud squeaking of the bicycle drive by shutting your eyes tighter and rehearsing your introduction you have prepared over and over in your head. No matter how hard you are trying, you can’t remember what you are supposed to say just after your age (which, as you can imagine, isn’t really far into your monologue). 

By the way the wind is lashing your face, you can tell Minho has picked up the speed. His breathing is getting louder, his heartbeat faster and you can’t help but think you’re probably way too heavy for him to bike you around like that. Maybe he shouldn’t skip his gym sessions with Chan so often. Or maybe you shouldn’t have eaten the leftover pancakes for breakfast after all.

You find the courage to open your eyelids and are pleased to see you’re already halfway there, probably because every single one of the traffic lights you encounter is green, and your friend is going surprisingly fast. Is luck finally starting to smile upon you? 

Your mad race comes to a halt when you reach the address of your interview. You hop off the bike and so does Minho who, by the way, is a panting mess. He’s barely able to catch his breath, strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, but he’s beaming at you when he realizes you’re just on time. 

“Go” he gasps, pushing you in the direction of the building’s hall. 

You walk up to the glass door but as your hands are about to push it, you pull a 180. Your friend sighs loudly, already knowing what’s coming next. 

“Wait. No. I can’t do this. I’m not prepared” you tell him frantically. “I’m freaking out. I think I’m gonna pass out.” You are now walking in circles, mumbling incoherently. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

Your heart is racing in your chest and your hands are getting clammy at the simple thought of failure. But guess what? You can’t fail if you don’t even try! One more good reason to just go back to bed and forget about your sad life for a good 8 hours, right? 

“Y/N, you’re the most talented person I know, you’re gonna do just fine” Minho catches you in his arm to stop your endless pacing. You would probably think this gesture is endearing if it wasn’t just meant to make sure you couldn’t run for your life.  

“No, I’m not. What if I throw up in front of everybody like that one time during the Romeo and Juliet musical?” You look up at him and his face is only inches away from yours. You’re sure you would be swooning at how beautiful he looks if you weren’t so terrified at this very moment.

“You were nine,” your best friend says, and you swear you have never heard him speak to you in such a sweet tone before. His voice is like honey and lavander but it doesn’t soothe you like it should. 

You manage to break free from his embrace to crouch down, in an attempt to slow down your breathing. If only you had data left, you could be watching those short relaxing videos on your phone. They always work. But no, you had to spent it all on online games, just one week into the month. You really are beyond help.  

“Y/N I know you’re scared, but if you miss out on this opportunity, you’re gonna regret it for the rest of your life.” Minho is lowering himself so that you can hear him, even though you’re curled up in a ball. 

“And I’m warning you, I won’t want to hear you complain about it,” he adds, this whole situation obviously starting to get on his nerves. 

If you were him, you would have probably left a long time ago. But this isn’t your best friend’s way of behaving. You know he would never abandon you no matter how annoying you could be (and you could be very annoying sometimes). After all, he is always the one holding your hair while you puke in the toilets when you had a couple too many drinks.

It takes all your willpower to stand up but there is no other way, you have to do it. You can hear the time ticking dangerously in your mind, as if your brain had turned into a clock.

“You’re right. Slap me,” you say, looking at him straight in the eyes, dead serious. 

“Wha -“

“Slap some sense into me. They do that in movies when people are panicking. It’s like throwing a bucket of cold water in someone’s face. But clearly we don’t have a bucket and we don’t have cold wa- “ you start blabbering. 

“What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not gonna slap you!” Your friend isn’t usually that horrified at the thought of beating your ass. In fact, he has felt the desire to rip your head off more than once, especially when you’d steal all the duvet at night, but at this moment he is just scared you might have actually lost your mind.  

“Just fucking do it Minho!” you scream, your hands clenching the front of his grey hoodie he always looks so divine in. 

Minho has never obeyed you, and this is not the day he is going to start. 

He puts both of his hands on the sides of your face and crashes his lips onto yours. 

You would be lying if you said you have never imagined the day your best friend would kiss you. It happens pretty much every single time you look at his cute pout a little too long. But one thing is certain, it isn’t like you pictured it to be at all.

You were convinced your heart would go so wild it would burst out of your chest and your head would spin so furiously you’d lose your balance. You thought your stomach would fill with butterflies to the brim and your whole body would be on fire.

But none of that is happening. On the contrary, every single muscle in your body relaxes under his touch. The way his soft mouth presses gently against yours makes you calmer, almost at peace amongst all this turmoil. 

Minho is kissing all your tension and stress away and you catch yourself letting a sigh of relief escape your parted lips.

As if you have kissed him already hundreds of times in your past life, Minho feels like home. He’s a safe haven you can always take refuge in during troubled times. Ever since the day you met, he has never left your side.

When he breaks away from the kiss, you notice your breath isn’t so ragged and your mind isn’t so foggy anymore. You’re serene. His cold hands are still cupping your face, slightly squishing your cheeks, and you feel like an idiot sandwich for asking him to slap you seconds before.

“That can work too, I guess…” you mutter.  

“You’re okay?” he asks, staring at you with the softest eyes you’ve ever seen.

You just nod, unable to say one more word, and sprint to the entrance, not wanting to make your interviewers wait any longer than they already have.

“Good luck!” You hear him yell just before the door closes behind you and you can’t help but grin from ear to ear.

- - - - - 

Thirty minutes later, you finally step out of the fancy lobby to find a very bored Minho leaning against a tree, patiently waiting for you.

“You’re still here?”

“Of course, I am,” he says, his mouth full of croissant. He gives you a large iced coffee he probably went buying to kill time. Your lips unconsciously curl up into a smile when you notice it comes from the same chain that the one you spilled on your lap on the day you first met him. 

“How did it go?” he asks you, sticking his buttery pastry into your mouth so that you can take a bite.

“Way better than I thought” you answer, right after you swallowed. You hate the way flakes would always get stuck between your teeth. But Minho is always there to warn you about it before anyone else notices, and even pick them for you if you can’t manage to, which, when you think about it, is kind of gross. 

There are two things the boy knows about you: you’re the greatest pessimist on earth and you’d rather die than admit you were wrong (especially if it meant he was right). So for you to even say it wasn’t that bad, means it went phenomenal. 

“I don’t want to say ‘I told you so’ but I told you so.” He smiles so wide you can barely see his eyes anymore. You have to look away, otherwise you know you might become instantly blinded by love.

“Maybe I could use some more of your luck” you mumble, staring at your shoes and kicking the red leaves that were surrounding your feet on this sunny autumn morning. 

“Really? And what makes you think I’ll share it with you,” he teases you, leaning forward to incite you to look at him in the eyes. 

“That.”

Your hand finds the back of his neck and pulls him in, in order to close the space that is still left between your mouths.

At first, Minho stiffens, taken aback by your bold move. But soon enough, he caves into your touch. He kisses you back fervently, like he means it. 

His fingers entagle in your hair, his arm wraps around your waist and his chest presses against your body. You’re melting in his embrace, submerged by a wave of bliss which he alone seems to know the recipe. 

It feels new, yet so familiar. Like it was supposed to happen, like it was written in the stars. 

He tastes like croissant and Americano. Like fortune and fate. 

And you can’t help but think you’re the luckiest person on earth.

Who cares about winning the lottery when Lee Minho is your lucky charm? 

[ktheist]

03 — show me yours & i’ll show you mine | m

➙ muses. seokjin x college student / gamer!reader ft. best friend! taehyung

➙ genre. best friend’s brother au. university au. working au. fwb au.

➙ word. 1.9k

➙ warnings. explicit content, fingering, mild exhibitionism

➙ index. 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | finale | side story 1 |

➙ synopsis.  “why are you doing this if you’re not gonna fuck me?”

x

saturday evening, taehyung comes up to you with a face of a blank canvas, phone in his hand facing the ceiling and relays the news of his break up.

you’re in the middle of watching a show with his two brothers on your laptop.

“wh-what?” is all you manage to say whilst namjoon and seokjin freeze in their spots.

“i broke up with her,” taehyung’s shoulderline rises as he casually shrugs.

“but why?” deep down, you have an inkling - but your mouth moved on its own before you can even stop it.

“cause she was shit talking you,” and with that, he twirls around, heading back to the hallway where one of the doors connect to his room.

and just like second nature, your body shoots up, trailing after the slumped man like a mother to her pupper.

“you guys watch without me,” you briefly say to the two men on the couch, their faces scrunching with growing concern.

for the first time in a long time, you and taehyung bare your hearts to each other. talked about your fears and hopes and what keeps you going. which is, to an extent, each other and the two brothers. you’re not sure how you fell asleep but you wake up with a leg sprawled all over your stomach and a snoring sound echoing against the wall. the blanket draped over you and taehyung isn’t part of his bedset because one, you and taehyung end up sleeping on top of the sheets and two, you know the only one brother out of the three loves the color blue so much, his bedsheets and blankets are always themed with light cerulean. and this blanket - you’ve definitely seen seokjin use a dozen times.

"hey, morning,” you greet the two brothers whilst they’re unpacking what seems to be takeouts from a store you all collectively agree have no bad item in their menu.

everyone eats just about anything from that restaurant.

“morning, sleepyhead.” namjoon shakes his head, smiling - it’s probably the hair pointing in different directions.

“how’s taehyung?” seokjin asks when you come to sit on the stool next to where he’s standing.

“well, i mean - he’s not in a good place,” you begin, “i know he really liked her. and i know she talks shit about me behind my back and she knows i do too and he’s always caught in between, but he always seemed to brush it off and never take sides you know? so i didn’t think he’d break up with her over it.”

“hey, it’s not your fault,” the hand on your shoulder is warm, seeping into your heart as you examine the sincerity of those brown eyes, down to the reassuring smile of those plump lips.

“thanks for saying that, jinnie,” you want to ask for a kiss (and maybe some dick) but with namjoon - though he’s cluelessly continuing with his task of preparing the takeouts - around, you settle for patting his hand that’s on your shoulder.

after washing your face and returning to the kitchen, you find the previously sleeping-like-a-long giant perched on one of the stools, rubbing the grogginess out of his eyes.

“look who’s up!” a smack lands on taehyung’s back.

the aforementioned man doesn’t even flinch as he takes another second to rub all the sleepiness away before craning his neck to look at your smiling face - it may be a dumb smile but someone’s got to be lifting the atmosphere.

“i thought you left,” he grumbles, before his arm snakes around your waist and brings you in for a side hug.

the recoil is almost automated as your smile scrunches into a cringe, arms flailing to push him away and at least get a few inches gap in between,“ew, what the hell.”

“i’m sad! gimme a hug,” he laments whilst namjoon laughs, commenting something about how “adorable” the two of you are and how it “...reminds me of the good old days, you know?”

he means when you and taehyung aren’t as resistant to skinships.

but all your attention goes to the eldest brother whose glance lingers a second too long before he tears his gaze off from you and taehyung.

x

it turns out that little bitch tried making taehyung choose between you and her after he’d texted her (in an attempt to placate her jealousy-prone heart) about how you’d opted to room with seokjin in yesterday.

give them and inch and they’ll take a mile.

“i should’ve known,” taehyung shakes his head, bags heavy under his eyes as he lies in his bed, cocooned by the light cerulean blanket, “you don’t like her but you like everyone-”

“don’t you go justin bieber on me,” you smack him in the stomach, to which he curls up into a caterpillar, moaning in pain and something about suing for personal injuries.

but the fact that he can complaint at all means that he’s recovered half of himself.

“i’m getting some food from the kitchen, you want anything?” you roll your eyes.

“how bout a new girlfriend?” he manages to say, despite the so called blow to the stomach.

“potato chips it is,” you nod before strutting out of the door.

the hallway is dimly lit, save for the lone light in the ceiling and the slightest bit of gap that allows luminescence to pour out of seokjin’s room. so you knock on the door, leaning against the frame, “hey.”

kim seokjin sits on the chair you previously occupied the night before, round glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as his eyes widen for the briefest second before offering you one of his warm smiles, “hey, how’s taehyung?”

“he’s eating,” you shrug, trying to appear casual even though something in the way his shirt swallows his already broad built and making him appear like you can fight him and win - gets your heart doing flips.

“that’s gre-” he can’t even properly get his response out because you’re already crossing the short distance between you and him, hands cupping his cheeks before smashing your lips against his. as if you haven’t had water for days. as if you’ve been breathing with your head barely above water.

his hands find their way on your hips, kissing you back more delicately than you can ever control yourself. tingles dot your skin from where his hand caresses your elbow and travels up your arm, lingering there, as though forgetting the reason his warning touch.

“i needed that,” you break away only to steal another kiss before confessing.

seokjin chuckles, his hand slipping over to your chest before attempting to pinch your nipple. to which he fails because your padded bra successfully blocks him off.

“oh, you’re wearing a bra?” the genuine surprise gleaming in his eyes should offend you.

“unless you want your brother accidentally touching my nips while we were wrestling each other to decide who gets to use your comfy as hell blanket,” you roll your eyes.

taehyung won, obviously. which explained why he was lying in bed like a human burrito just now.

“i’d have to give taehyung a personal beating if that happened,” the dorky grin and amused glint in his whenever he cracks a not-so-funny-but-adorable joke, isn’t present.

your heart’s always done this thing where it skips with every smile that curls on his lips, yet the lack of it and the underlying seriousness of his tone is making your heart lurch in your throat, warmth spreading all over your body.

“anyways, i need to get taehyung some chips, thanks for the kiss.” you wave but something wraps around your wrist like an iron hold seconds before you find yourself perched in seokjin’s lap and the man dangerously close to you - despite having shared a passionate kiss just a moment ago.

“taehyung this, taehyung that,” his hand slips under your shirt, coarse hand trailing up your back until you feel him unhooking your bra in one go.

like he’s had enough practice in the art of seduction.

“well, he’s the one out of the four of us with a broken heart,” you pray to the constellations and deities that your voice is levelled though it soon proves to be pointless if his other hand’s snaking up your front and hovers over your chest where he could feel the organ beneath beating wildly.

“you’re breaking mine though... with spending that much time with my brother,” he traps your nipple in between his thumb and index finger, caressing, teasing with a smile that ironically has probably broken a few hearts of his own.

“i can fix that,” you beam, finger tracing down his front and down to the waistline of his pants, to which you can’t reach unless you scoot away to allow your hand to -

“not right now,” the sound of wind chimes drum in your ears as he chuckles.

it makes the umpteenth rejection a little less prickly, as you pout, “when?”

“soon,” and with that, he takes your wrist in his hand, making you push your own shirt up until your nipples are bare in the open, “hold this up for me, please.”

it’s the please that gets you.

ever the gentleman even as he’s about to tease you with his teeth against your nipples and his free hand fondling your other breast.

“why are you doing this if you’re not gonna fuck me?” you grunt, displeased, but arch your back anyway to make it easier for him to suckle and bite on your erected nipples.

you’ve always thought his hair looked soft but it’s softer as you bury your free hand in it. at first, it’s just a gentle caress - just like patting a golden retriever. but then as his tongue lapse over your protruded nub and the pressure in his free hand in your other breast grows more intense, you’re surprised he’s not moaning out in pain from the way your hand’s instinctively grasping at his roots.

“ah!” a yelp escapes you when he leaves your left nipple for the other one, biting down harder than you’re used to but not enough to draw blood.

you’re lost in the pain and pleasure of his tongue and apt fingers, where his mouth isn’t sucking on your nipple, his fingers are pinching and groping it. somewhere in the back of your mind, you distinctively remember a midly pressing matter-

“what the fuck?”

something about a heartbroken best friend and an unclosed door.

"t-taehyung!” you gasp, body almost jolting upward like a criminal caught red handed but seokjin’s arms around your body roots you down in his lap as he slowly pulls down your shirt before turning his attention to his youngest brother.

“taehyung, calm down,” he instructs with ease but his wide-eyed gaze is filled with concern.

“this isn’t-” you begin, slipping away from seokjin’s loosened grasp to pad over to your best friend who looks like he’s seen a ghost or his brother and best friend almost-fucking. either one works, “this isn’t what you think.”

“no-” the younger cups his mouth as he doubles over, his other hand held up in the air as if to tell you to “stay the fuck back-”

“oh, come on,” the slightest brush of your nipples against the material of your carelessly-pulled-down bra makes does not go pass you, yet you put your hand on your hip, rolling your eyes, “don’t be so dramatic.”

and that’s when taehyung hurls his guts out in front of seokjin’s door.

x

note. ooof 

i wasn’t sure if this drabble was gonna gain any eager readers. when i say eager, i mean those who look forward to an update, but some of you showed interest and it warms my heart! so here’s to another update! hope yall enjoyed!

taglist. @aretha170​ @scalubera​ @ambersaesthetics​ !

[pride-moth]

You only get what you grieve [Stolitz Week Day 5 Hurt/Comfort]

Ao3 Link

Event Info Link

Stolas has been drifting in and out of consciousness in his tight restraints for hours by the time Blitz, Millie, Moxxie and Loona break down the door to his holding cell. It’s a big, empty room, all metal and a single cupboard. Stolas is tied to a chair, has been for days, no food, no water in his reach. To get it, he would depend on Stella’s mercy and she has shown him none.

It takes him a moment to force his eyes open, and attempt to feel his own limbs when they all pour into the room. He can’t, the ropes around his body have cut off all sensation in them. He can faintly remember them hurting when he was first put in them, but all the pain has long been replaced by unbearable numbness.

Blitz rushes towards him to hold his face between his hands. “Millie! Give me your knife!” he yells and cuts Stolas free the moment he receives the knife.

Stolas’ arms fall to his sides uselessly. “Blitzy?” he says weakly, his voice barely more than a rasp.

“Sir, I think he’s dehydrated,” Moxxie remarks.

“Then get some water, Moxx!” Blitz yells, making Moxxie scurry into the back of the room, stands in front of Stolas again and takes his face back between his hands. “Stolas? Hey, it’s… It’s okay, we’re here now, you’ll be okay.”

“Stella?” Stolas asks, it’s all he can get out.

“She… She’s dead. We… Took care of that. It was… I was… Sorry, there was no other way.”

Stolas doesn’t say anything, but is overcome with a hefty cough.

Moxxie comes running back with a large bottle of water. Blitz yanks it from his hands and holds it carefully to Stolas’ beak. “Slowly,” he says softly, perhaps more softly than Stolas has ever heard him speak.

He drinks, trying to slow himself down, but he hasn’t had a drop of liquid in three days and his body is aching for it with every fiber. His arms start to itch again, so that’s a good sign as well at least. He stops drinking for a moment to whisper “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, I wouldn’t just let you die in this hole.” There’s a rumbling above them. Blitz looks up in obvious concern. “Can you get up?”

“I don’t know, I barely feel my limbs.”

The steps above them grow faster. “Loona, you’re strong, can you throw him over your shoulder when we get in a hurry?”

She shrugs. “I guess. Either way, we should probably get running.”

“I thought…?”

“Yeah, we got rid of Stella, but unfortunately Striker still has a bit more of a personal problem with us,” Millie explains while she gestures for Blitz to give her her knife back.

As if on cue, Striker appears in the doorframe, already bleeding from his shoulder, but his eyes hungry for a fight. “You killed my source of income, you destroyed my job and you’re even trying to save this pompous asshole?”

“I’d rather have a pompous asshole than a deranged one!”

“Hand him out to me, I’m sure there are enough overlords and royals in Hell who would be more than willing to pay a good bounty for him. And I would even be generous and give you all 10%. As a peace offer.”

“Fuck you and your peace,” Blitz says, draws his gun and takes a single shot.

The bang echoes throughout the small room and leaves Stolas’ ears ringing. A stinging pain takes over that makes it hard for him to look up and focus. But when he manages to lift his head again, he sees Striker on the ground, struggling to hold onto this bleeding leg.

“Let’s get out of here,” Blitz sighs and motions for everyone to follow him as he jumps over Striker and leaves him behind on the ground.

“Sir?” Moxxie says as though to raise an objection.

“Shut it, Moxx. Loona, take Stolas. Now.” Blitz doesn’t even look back at them.

Loona throws Stolas over her shoulder with surprising ease and carries him outside.

They make their way through the abandoned warehouse building in uneasy silence, only the sound of steps on metal between them.

When they make it outside, the light almost burns Stolas’ eyes. “Let’s go to the office,” Blitz offers.

“But Via…” Stolas says weakly, still hanging over Loona’s shoulder, suddenly overcome with fear for his precious baby.

“She’s there, we got her out of the palace first thing before we went on our little rescue mission. Took one of your butlers, too, so someone can look after her.”

“Oh thank the stars.”

“No, thank me maybe, but you can save that for later.” Blitz fishes his phone out of his pocket and stuffs it back in, frustration all over his face. “Moxxie, would you call an ambulance?”

“What?”

“An ambulance. Weee-oh, weee-oh. Takes people to the hospital, do you even have a brain up there?!”

“Sir, I know what an ambulance is, but why?”

“Well, Striker is bleeding out in there, for one.”

“Don’t you want him dead?”

Blitz laughs. “Are you insane? He’s the only motherfucker in Hell to put up a real fight, do you really think I want to deprive myself of that fun?”

Moxxie sighs, shakes his head, but calls the ambulance without further discussion.

Loona sits Stolas down on the couch of their waiting room. Stolas thanks her and feels sleep gnawing at him more intensely than ever before.

It takes not even two seconds before Octavia storms in and throws her arms around him, “Oh my God, Dad! You’re safe!”

Stolas weakly lifts his arms, thankful to feel them again at all, and wraps them around her. “Of course, Via. I would never leave you alone.”

“I assume Mom didn’t make it?”

Stolas’ looks around helplessly, unsure of how to respond.

“She was on the way to fully execute your dad, so we didn’t really have a choice,” Blitz says, as a matter of fact, but he doesn’t seem particularly happy about it. “I… I’m sorry.”

Octavia nods. A thousand emotions run through her big eyes in a matter of seconds. Grief, relief, anger. “I… I’m glad you’re safe, Dad. I just… I need a moment.” She lets go of him and gets up. She leaves the room.

“Via-” Stolas tries to get up but his legs don’t quite allow him to yet.

“Leave her,” Loona says, “Her mom might have been a bitch, but she was still her mom and it’s hard to lose that. I’ll check on her later.”

Stolas wants to protest, run after his daughter, but simply gives her a sad nod. He’s not running anywhere yet.

“How are you feeling?” Blitz asks as Millie enters the room with some hot chocolate for everyone.

Stolas can only shrug. “Like shit, mostly. I can sort of feel my body again, at least. But, I just… I can’t form a clear thought, it’s all so… foggy. I… I can’t even think of how I feel about Stella being dead. It doesn’t feel real. Nothing feels real.”

Blitz nods and hands him one of the hot chocolate cups. “That’s okay, take your time.”

“You’re being extremely nice to me,” Stolas remarks.

“Stolas, I’m coming off a 72 hour rescue mission and I’m mostly just glad you’re alive. I don’t exactly have energy left over for snarky sarcasm, okay. Being as charmingly abrasive as I am takes work.” Blitz plops down on the couch next to him with a shaky laugh. Stolas leans against him.

“Thank you. I don’t think I would still be alive without you.”

“I would never let you die,” Blitz whispers.

Across the room Millie is gesturing at Moxxie and they excuse themselves from the room moments later.

“Where are they going?”

Blitz sighs. “Ugh, they want to give us the room. As if I’m gonna drop a whole confession speech on you when you barely function.”

Stolas stops. “Confession?”

“Oh crap.” Blitz blushes. “I… Don’t worry about it today, okay? Worry about your daughter and the very awkward funeral you’re about to attend soon. Just… Just let me help you put yourself back together.”

Stolas stays silent.

“Let’s start by massaging your shoulders, those must be killing you. Sorry, maybe not the best time to make jokes about murder. Uhm, anyway.” Blitz puts his mug down, gets off the couch to walk behind Stolas. He starts carefully massaging Stolas’s shoulders.

It feels good, it takes some of the edge off, it brings warmth back into Stolas’ body. It makes everything feel a little less horrible. It makes everything horrible he has experienced in the past few days feel a little farther away. He doesn’t want Blitz to ever stop touching him. He wants to feel these hands on him for as long as he lives. It should be some earth-shattering revelation, but it simply feels like the culmination of everything they’ve been through. “I love you,” he whispers, without thinking.

Blitz stops massaging him for a moment. “You should call a therapist.”

“Because I love you?”

“No, because you’ve just spent three days tied up in a storage unit without food or drink and your wife had to be murdered to get you out of there. You might need some help processing that.”

“Were you even listening to me?” Stolas asks, a little heartbroken.

“I was, Stolas. And I love you, too, you big idiot, but I’m not going to talk about this with you now. Not before we’ve slept for 24 hours. Not before things aren’t somewhat okay with your daughter. I don’t… I’m not going to take advantage of you like that.”

“It’s not-”

“Please, Stolas. Let me just… Be there for you for now. Platonically.”

Stolas swallows but then he nods and that’s all that’s said about it for the evening. It’s enough, though, for now, that Blitz brings him hot chocolate and massages him and helps him talk to Via and helps him get up and walk again. And Blitz is right, he has other concerns for now. The horror of the moment is over, but there’s so much work ahead.

[honey-dewey]

The Monster we Share

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales/Reader

Word Count: 2,812

Warnings: PTSD for military action, sexual assault, and abuse. Mentions of abuse, panic attacks and dissociation, one very bitchy ex-wife, mentions of canon-typical violence, I think that’s it. 

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

Frankie would tell you he was messed up, at which point you would retaliate with the fact that you were just as messed up as he was. Both diagnosed with PTSD, life isn’t easy, but it doesn’t always suck either.

Dating someone with PTSD was difficult.

Dating someone with PTSD when you also had PTSD was nothing short of a hellscape.

You had met Francisco Morales through a friend of a friend, and after a few drinks and some chatting, you two were close friends. Fast forward six months, and you were dating and living together in Frankie’s house. It would’ve been a miracle.

Would’ve, of course, being the key word here.

Soon into your relationship, you heard about Frankie’s PTSD involving his time in the military, specifically his non-military mission down in South America from a year ago. You had opened up then, spilling about abuse from an ex and the horror show that had been your life for almost three straight years. You’d never seen Frankie look vicious, but in that moment, he looked like a killer.

Now, a year into your relationship, and you were still navigating the rocky parts.

Namely the nightmares.

You woke in a cold sweat, broken from your nightmare by a harsh scream coming from your side. Scrambling upright, you tried to rouse Frankie, who was thrashing and screaming, his eyes still closed.

“Frankie!” You yelled, putting your hands on his shoulders and doing your best to wake your boyfriend. “Frankie please!”

Frankie shot upright, eyes wide open, and immediately took a swing in your direction. You jumped back, but he was faster. Thankfully, his fist didn’t hit your face, which was where he was aiming, but with all the jostling around, he did catch your shoulder.

You yelped, falling off the bed and immediately starting to cry, curling up as small as you could. Despite the obvious differences from your previous apartment and relationship, all you could see, all you could hear, was your ex.

“Babe?” Frankie’s raw voice echoed through your mind. “Babe?” He sounded more urgent, and you realized, with detached worry, that it was because you were hyperventilating. “Babe!”

He pulled you close, something which you didn’t have the energy to object. Carefully lining your back against his chest and sitting you in his lap, Frankie leaned against the wall and held you against him as your panic died down, as you realized you were safe. No one in this house would ever hurt you, not on purpose.

When you finally stopped breathing heavy, you collapsed into Frankie’s embrace, feeling utterly boneless and totally spent. It was rare you entered a dissociative state after panic attacks, but this time must’ve just been unlucky.

“Hey,” Frankie breathed, and you heard him very faintly, as if he were speaking through a pane of glass. Not much stuck when you dissociated, but despite that, Frankie was determined to talk to you. “Can I lift you onto the bed?” He never got a response, but just him having the heart to actually ask instead of just doing it was comforting. After a beat, he lifted you up and carefully placed you on the bed, laying beside you once he was done.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, running feather light fingers across your aching shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

You didn’t respond. Your eyes were open, but you couldn’t really see. All you could do was lay there, waiting for your brain to turn back on again. Frankie stayed beside you the entire time, humming ABBA songs and trying to shake away the remnants of his own nightmare.

When you finally sparked back to awareness, it was your hearing that came back first. Able to anchor onto Frankie’s humming, you pulled yourself out of the dark, blinking and twitching your fingers as your sense of feeling returned. Then your sense of smell, then your touch, then you could taste blood on your tongue. Finally, your sight unclouded.

Frankie must’ve noticed you blinking more than once in a row and immediately reached over to the bedside table and held a glass of water. With one hand, he helped guide you to sitting, and then he pressed the glass into your hands. “Drink,” he said softly, and you did, glad for the water to wash the metal taste out of your mouth.

“Are you okay?” Frankie asked, taking the glass once it was empty. You nodded, not trusting your vocal chords to work right now.

“Just wanna get some sleep?” Frankie asked, and you nodded again.

Nothing makes you want sleep more than a two AM panic attack, so you ended up sleeping until noon, only really rolling out of bed because Frankie was missing and you wanted to check on him.

You found him on the couch, eating lunch and sitting on the phone, quietly arguing with someone.

“No!” He whisper yelled. “Absolutely not, I get custody! She’s my daughter too!”

You slowly walked into the kitchen, trying not to be spotted. There was still coffee in the pot for you, and you made yourself a cup while Frankie got even more mad.

“Marisa,” he hissed. “Don’t you fucking dare. I deserve to see her too, even if it’s just weekends!” He was quiet for a minute before responding. “You leave my partner out of this!” He yelled, practically at full volume, and you jumped, splashing coffee all down your front. Frankie turned, shocked. “I’m calling you back,” he said firmly. “This is not over.”

As soon as he hung up, Frankie rushed over to you and took the nearly empty mug from you. “Hey, you okay?”

“Better,” you said softly. “How’s Emmie?”

Frankie sighed, leaning his forehead against your shoulder. “Marisa still won’t let me have custody,” he said weakly. “I miss Emmie. I want to see her.”

You sighed, wrapping Frankie in a hug. “It’ll be okay Frankie,” you promised. “It’s been a year. I’m sure if we went to court, you could get partial custody if you proved you’d been clean for the whole year, which you have.”

Frankie began to shudder, and you sunk to the ground with him still in your arms. “You’ve never been in a legal battle with Marisa,” he said shakily. “She’s determined to never let Emmie see me again.”

You ground your teeth. “I hate that woman.”

“Feeling’s mutual,” Frankie said.

Eventually, with cold coffee on your shirt and your stomach empty, you got up and urged Frankie to get dressed. “We’re going out to lunch,” you said insistently, kissing his knuckles. “Please?”

Frankie relented, and you two ended up driving to a small 24 hour diner that had the best pancakes pretty much ever. You’d only found it because of Benny, who had gotten a job as one of the waiters. You sat at your favorite table, the one in the corner where Frankie could see all the exits, and ordered pancakes.

Five minutes into your meal, you were interrupted.

“Daddy?”

Frankie’s eyes widened, looking at a small baby, barely two, standing near your table. She was a spitting image of Frankie, right down to the curve of her nose and the spark in her eyes. Her two thick pigtails bounced as she began to get excited. “Daddy!”

Frankie was frozen, face stiff. You bent down, smiling at Emmie. “Hiya Emmie. Where’s your mommy?”

Emmie shrugged, and you grew more worried. “Well, where were you sitting?”

“Over there,” Emmie said, pointing to a table.

“Okay,” you said, standing and holding out your hand. “Why don’t we sit back down over there. Your mommy is gonna be super worried when she doesn’t see you over there.”

Right as you finished, a scream echoed through the diner. “You bitch!” Marisa yelled, running over and yanking Emmie from your gentle grip. “How fucking dare you!”

You stepped back. “I’m so sorry Ma'am, she approached us. I was just trying to return her.”

Marisa’s eyes found Frankie and she seethed. “Good luck getting custody now,” she snapped loudly. “You just tried to kidnap Amelia!”

Emmie whined, tugging against her mother. “Daddy!” She yelled, pointing.

For you, everything else faded when you saw Frankie. He was sobbing, curled in a ball and shaking violently, hands gripping his hair and breathing uneven.

“Frankie!” You immediately rushed to his side, trying to dislodge his hands. “Frankie, honey, it’s me.”

“Fish?”

You looked up, seeing Benny standing there, wearing an apron and a horrified expression. “Benny!” You said gratefully. “Thank god, can you comfort Frankie? I’m gonna call the cops.”

“I already did it,” one of the other patrons said, holding up their phone. “And my girlfriend has been filming this whole thing.”

You nodded gratefully, turning your attention back to Frankie. “Hey babe, hey, that’s it,” you praised softly, hearing his breathing even out. “You’re with me, it’s safe. We’re here, in the diner, and Benny’s here. Hey, see, we’re all safe.”

Frankie nodded slowly, regaining himself. “Em?”

You pointed to Emmie, who was being held back by Marisa. “She’s still here. Still safe. See?”

Another slow nod, and then the cops were rushing in. You sat in Frankie’s lap, cradling his head and keeping him secure as they cops asked everyone what had happened. Upon reviewing the footage from the other patron, they took Marisa for questioning, at which she screeched and threw a fit and tried to assault the cop. Emmie, as soon as she was free, ran towards you. Benny scooped her up, holding her close.

“Are you this girl’s father?” The cop asked Benny.

“No,” Benny said. “I’m one of her godfathers. That’s her father, but he doesn’t have any custody.”

The cop sighed. “Write your name and number here, we’ll be in touch about the custody.”

Benny jotted down Frankie’s name and number and nodded to the cop as he left.

“Aight Fish, you ready to go home?” Benny asked, bouncing Emmie in his arms.

Frankie nodded, getting up with your help and trudging to the car.

Emmie watched as Benny sat in the back with her and you drove, holding Frankie’s hand and trying not to let yourself waver. “Is daddy borken?” She asked Benny.

Benny sighed. “No hon, he isn’t broken. His brain just doesn’t like him very much.”

“Oh. Otay.”

The rest of the ride home was near silent. Benny kept Emmie occupied as only he could do, mostly by very quietly teaching her to sing ninety nine bottles of beer on the wall. You didn’t object. It made Frankie smile when she lisps her way through the song, and you would do anything to see that smile again.

The other two boys were waiting for you at home, sitting on the porch. They jumped up when you two arrived back, both eager to see Emmie and make sure Frankie was okay.

“Hey,” Will said softly, pulling you aside as everyone trudges into the house. “Y’know how you told me to keep an ear on you-know-who?”

It’s like a ton of bricks hit your chest. “Yeah?”

Will smiled. “Gone. Completely. At least ten years behind bars for abuse, but the more they look into his past relationships, the more time he gets.”

The bricks suddenly crumbled, and you were crying, tears bubbling over.

“What the hell?” Frankie asked, coming back out and pulling you into a hug. “What’s going on?”

“He’s gone!” You said happily, beyond the tears. “Gone Frankie! He’s gone!”

Will filled in the details, and Frankie was grinning wildly when he finished. “This is amazing,” he said, still hugging you. “Amazing.”

You two headed back in, Frankie’s arm over your shoulder. None of the boys knew how bad your past relationship ran except Will, but they definitely knew something was wrong. So when you came in, teary but smiling, they immediately asked what was wrong.

“Their ex is gone for good,” Frankie said happily.

It was a cause for celebration, which was just what you did. Benny, along with Will and Emmie, went to go get a cake while you, Santi, and Frankie made dinner. Dinner wasn’t fancy, mostly just warming up whatever you could find and hoping Emmie would eat it.

“We’re home!” Benny said happily, opening the door and holding up a cake. “I got cake!”

“And I’ve got dinner for Emmie,” Will said from behind Benny.

While Emmie at chicken nuggets and honey mustard, you and the boys ate tacos and cake. It was a messy dinner, but it filled your bellies and made you happy.

“Movie?” Benny asked hopefully once you’d packed up the leftovers.

You sighed, putting the pan in the sink to be washed later. “Yeah, sure. Go turn the TV on.”

Benny eagerly hopped over to the couch and sat down, turning the TV on and flicking through channels. When he found a decent movie, he let the channel sit as he watched.

The movie was a violent one, something you didn’t want Emmie to watch. She yawned as you carried her to the guest bedroom, which wasn’t fit for a two year old, but it would have to do for now. You tucked some pillows under the sheets to protect her from rolling out of the bed and set a box at the side so she could get down in the morning. With a kiss goodnight, she was out like a light.

“We good in here boys?” You asked, poking your head back into the living room. “Oh for god's sake, change the channel.”

“Why?” Benny asked. “I like this movie!”

You pointed to Frankie, who was gripping the armrest of the couch. “You’re gonna set him off.”

Frankie nodded his thanks, eyes wide and body stiff. Benny changed the channel to some cute animated movie you’d seen the trailer for but never bothered to watch the movie.

You hummed, sitting practically on top of Frankie. He never panicked during movies with live fire and violence anymore, but they still made him jittery.

“You okay?” Frankie asked softly, running his hands over your skin.

“I should be asking you that,” you pointed out, kissing the hairless patch on Frankie’s face. “Tomorrow will be better. We’ll take Emmie shopping.”

Frankie smiled. “Lord, we really are two complete messes.”

You snuggled closer into Frankie’s arms. “Messes shmesses. We’re together. Our pasts are being amended. One day, we might even be able to look back at how we are now and laugh.”

“Yeah, when Emmie’s in college.”

Smiling, you reached up and grabbed Frankie’s face, squishing his cheeks. “Even if we aren’t, if we’re still waking up at two AM with nightmares and spending our days comforting each other through panic attacks, I’ll still love you.”

Frankie grinned. “I’ll love you more.”

“Oh no you don’t,” you argued playfully. “I’ll love you more.”

“Nah, I definitely love you more.”

You heard gagging from the other side of the couch and turned to see Benny making a face. “Get a room!”

Frankie stuck his tongue out at Benny while you laughed. Santi and Will both whistled when Frankie scooped you up and carried you to bed.

Because of your ex, you and Frankie had never slept together. Bed sharing was difficult in the first months, and then cuddling was the next hurdle. You were finally comfortable enough to snuggle in the bed together, and when you reached the bedroom, Frankie plopped you on the bed and immediately snuggled up. Clothes still on, he gently rested a hand on your waist, murmuring soft words in your ears.

“I don’t think this is what Benny meant when he said get a room,” you said happily as Frankie peppered kisses across your collarbones.

“To hell with what Benny meant,” Frankie said. “You aren’t ready.”

It almost made you cry. “Thank you Frankie,” you said, a slight wobble to your voice. “Thank you.”

“You adjust your life for me,” Frankie reminded you. “I can adjust my life for you.”

That night, as you lay down to sleep, you stared at the ceiling, listening to Frankie’s low and rhythmic breathing. He was right. You had mindlessly adjusted for him, noticing what set him off and silently making changes so he didn’t have panic attacks on the daily. But he had done the same for you, changing his words and his mannerisms so he could be the best person for you, the person you needed. It was so seamless, the way you two molded to each other.

“Love you,” you whispered softly into the air, swirling around because of the fan Frankie needed on. Frankie, dead asleep, didn’t respond, but you didn’t mind. Rolling closer to Frankie, tucking yourself up and under his arm, you breathing in his late night smell. “Thank you.”

You knew, in the morning, he’d either wake up at three in tears or slowly in the sun. But either way, he would wake up to you, ready for his worst, and no matter what, he would be there for yours when it struck. You both had each other, no matter how dark life got. The monster you shared would always connect you.

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

JJ Maybank x reader pt. 2

Summary: You’re a kook but only associate with Sarah Cameron. After she gets involved with John B, you’re introduced to the rest of the pogues and catch JJ’s eye with how shy and different you are from the other kooks. // 

PART 1 

A/N: a couple people asked for a part 2 so I shall of course deliver. I hope you guys like it! xx 

Warning!!:Rafe being a total dick and unwanted touching, not major tho but just a warning in case that makes you uncomfortable 

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: OPEN {CLOSED}

** Who I Write For **

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

JJ held his hand out to you, “don’t want the lady to fall.”

You blush and take his hand, stepping over onto the dock, “Thank you.” You and the pogues had just arrived back to the Chateau after a day on the water.

“Of course.” He grins, grabbing your bag and walking up the dock.

“You know I can carry my own bag.”

He nods, “I know, but if I have your bag, you can’t leave without me asking you out on a date.”

Your eyes go wide as you look at him, “A d-date?”

“Yes ma’am. If you accept the offer of course.”

You nervously bite your lip, “But I’m.. I’m not like the girls you usually date.” “Ah. I have a reputation huh?” He sighs and stops walking turning around to face you, “You’re so much better than them. You’re not like other girls, especially kooks. You’re.. laid back, shy. Not throwing yourself at me like other girls. You’re cute too.”

You blush, shaking your head, “So I’m boring is what you’re saying?”

His eyes go wide and he quickly shakes his head, “No No. Shit, I didn’t mean it-”

You laugh and put a hand on his arm, stopping him, “I know what you meant. It’s okay.”

“So.. what do you say? Would you like to go on a date with me? Say this Saturday night?”

“I would love that..”

~

And that was now a month ago. You, Sarah and Kie got ready at your house for the Midsummer’s party. You three would be going together since John B was working with Pope, JJ would be busting tables at the Country Club and Kie’s date bailed last minute. You girls didn’t mind though.

When you arrived at the country club all eyes were on you. You weren’t used to this kind of attention, even hanging around Sarah, all eyes were usually on her, but this time it was you included.

“Told you the dress was a good choice.” Sarah whispers to you.

You roll your eyes, “I can’t breath.”

“Suck it in buttercup.” She laughs walking over to the drinks. Kie finds someone to talk with and then Sarah goes to speak with John B. You’re pouring your drink when someone steps beside you, “Damn, can I get your number? You girl are beautiful.” You recognized the voice immediately and giggled, “JJ..” You turn your head and he’s looking you up and down, smirking.

“What? You do.” He grins, hand on your hip.

“You look pretty handsome yourself.” You put a hand on his chest and lean up to kiss him.

“We’re all having an after party at the beach. You want to go?” His hands slip off your hips and turn to refill the drink container.

“That’s fine. I didn’t bring extra clothes though. I’ll have to change.” You take a sip of the drink in your hand.

“Hey! Pogue!”

You groan quietly, “Rafe Cameron.”

He rolls his eyes, turning to face the kook a grin on his face, “Rafe Cameron. What can I do for you?”

Rafe walks over and notices you standing there. “Damn, y/n?” He looks you up and down, a hungry look in his eyes, “I didn’t know you could look that… that sexy.” He smirks, “Makes me wonder what it looks like underneath all the clothes.”

You grab JJ’s arm as he lunges after Rafe, “JJ, don’t.”

“Ooooh Damn, did I hit a nerve, maybank?” Rafe laughs, holding his hands up.

“Fuck off, Cameron. Leave her alone.”

Rafe chuckles, “Whatever.. I’ll see you later y/n.” He gives you a wink before walking off.

“He’s such a dick.” JJ huffs.

“He’s just trying to get under your skin.” You sigh, “He’s always been like that.”

~

You and JJ go your separate ways and after a while you make your way to the bathroom when you hear yelling down the hall and some grunts.

You follow the sounds and when you turn the corner, Rafe is throwing a punch to JJ’s stomach as Kelce and Topper hold him back. “What the hell, Rafe!” You hold your dress in one hand and quickly rush over.

“There’s the girl of the hour.” Rafe smirks at you. 

JJ thrashes in Kelce and Topper’s grip, “don’t fucking touch her!”

Rafe chuckles, “I wasn’t going too, however, now I know it would bother the hell out of you. I think I will.”

You gulp and take a step back as Rafe turns his attention to you, “Come on, y/n. Why don’t we give your boyfriend a show? I know you’ve always had a thing for your best friend’s older brother.” His hand reaches out to caress your cheek and you quickly slap his hand away. 

“Gross, Rafe! You’re disgusting.” You go to walk by him to get to JJ, but he grabs your arm and yanks you to his chest.

“Don’t say you never wanted it. I know you wanted me to deflower you.” He smirks and leans close to you. 

“In your dreams.” You spit in his face and he pulls back from you, wiping his face, “Oh shit.” 

 When you and JJ started dating, your whole demeanor changed. You became more confident in yourself, not as shy. You didn’t let anyone walk over you. JJ taught you how to talk to assholes and throw a punch or two. You weren’t scared of people walking all over you anymore, especially Rafe Cameron. Obviously, he didn’t know the shy little girl was no longer there or he wouldn’t be trying you.  

“Damn, someone’s turned into a bitch.” He chuckles and reaches out to grab you again, wrapping his arms around your body. 

You thrash in his arms, “Let go of me!” 

He lifts you and pushes you against the wall, using his body to keep you against the wall, “Come on you know you want me.” His hand is pulling your long dress up your legs. 

 as JJ struggles against Kelce’s headlock, “don’t touch her!” 

Rafe moves his arm to your throat, holding you in place, “I wonder if Maybank has already deflowered you. Huh? I bet he has. Couldn’t wait to get his hands on a piece of ass like yourself.” He chuckles. 

“Rafe, you son of a bitch, I’ll kill you!” JJ is seething in anger at the scene in front of him. His threat pulls Rafe’s attention away from you for a split second and you’re able to send a right hook to rafe’s nose, then a knee to the balls. 

Rafe groans, doubling over in pain. You quickly step passed him, your dress falling back to the floor. 

Kelce and topper let JJ go and are now checking on Rafe. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” JJ’s hand cups your cheeks, looking over your body for any sign of injury. 

You shook your head, “I’m okay. but you’re not.. you’re bleeding JJ.” You gently touch his cheek. 

“I’m fine. Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“Let’s get out of here, please? I want to go home.” 

~ 

JJ sits on the edge of the tub as you sit in front him, cleaning his wounds. He winces, “That was a nice right hook.”

You dab another wound, glancing up at him with a blush on your cheeks, “I had a good teacher.” 

“Remind me not to piss you off because you can obviously take on a man twice your size. I mean I’ve created a monster.” 

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[another-snape-story]

In the Darkness

Chapter XXII

Downhearted, engulfed with hatred for himself, Snape was sitting in the dark of his quarters, fingers tracing the curves of a fancy vial he twirled in his hands. A bottle of firewhiskey prepared to be uncorked long ago, seemed now to be forgotten.

Blueish moonlight seeping through frozen waters of the lake illuminated a part of the room reaching the wall where extinct fireplace breathed cold and chilliness adding an unpleasant feeling of despondency to the surrounding. His black frock rock thrown carelessly over the armrest of the sofa, Snape hoped physical discomfort would at least partially replace excruciating pain within his soul. No matter how hard he knocked at your door, how desolately he pleaded to open it, you didn’t answer. Snape was sure you had no desire to see him. If only he knew you were looking for him in the meantime.

You’ve never been to his private chambers – even approaching that part of the corridor made you feel uncomfortable, as if you were violating his privacy. But you just couldn’t leave it like this! You had to talk to him…

Realizing the misery of your predicament, drained of every feeling or emotion – you’ve cried too much to be capable of any – resigned with the worst outcome, you dragged along the passageway to try your luck at the last steppingstone which would predetermine your further relationship with the man.

Snape’s heart sank as he saw you at his threshold. Eyes locked on his, you stood motionless not daring to enter. Words stuck in your throat; you seemed to forget how to breathe.

Snape stepped aside.

Uncertainly, you trudged past him.

“Where have you been?” you asked quietly, “I’ve been searching for you everywhere…”

Your question baffled him – Snape would imagine it otherwise. The only thing he wanted was to fall on his knees before you and beg for forgiveness.  

“Dropped in ‘Hog’s Head’ for a drink,” he answered down in the mouth.

“I returned after you a few minutes later…” disappointed, you reverted your glance. Snape couldn’t expect that. If he found it probable you would return, he would surely stay there for as long as it’d take, even if he had to wait an eternity!

“Forgive me, Sev?” you turned to him all of a sudden, your eyes emitting the anguish of a mental agony. “Forgive me being an ungrateful bitch…”

Pain and despair now visible on his face, Snape dashed towards you. “No! That’s me who should apologize. You’ve been through hell, and I…”

“And you never left my side,” you smiled weakly, a tear rolling down your cheek.

“I hurt you. I didn’t mean that,” he whispered taking you into his hold. “It was a mistake. I am a mistake. My life is a mistake…”

“Don’t say that!” you pulled away to look him in the eyes. “You’re the most wonderful human being I’ve ever known! Don’t say you’re a mistake…” your voice cracked. “If it is me who made you think so…” you cried, too distressed to hold back, “…I will hate myself for the rest of my life…”

A storm of emotions raging in his soul, Snape rose shaky hands to your face. Lacking on confidence, he was afraid to touch you considering this gesture too intimate to be permissible, yet desire was stronger than reason.

Your skin so soft against his fingers, he gently wiped your tears putting so much delicacy into it, as if you were the most fragile thing in the world to fall apart at a slightest contact. Although physically you remained solid in shape, on the inside you appeared a real mess. Clutching at him, you sobbed still cursing yourself for your outburst at the station, yet immensely happy to be in his arms, relieved he didn’t reject you. “I’m so sorry, Severus… I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t be,” his voice as gentle as his touch, he caressed your face losing himself in the depth of your eyes. Yet he was so close that a tiny bend of his head was enough for your lips to come together. Looking at him, you felt all the tension disappear straight away – for a split second you fully relaxed once you realized what was going to happen.

The world spun around as his lips touched yours, hesitant and insecure at first, but growing more resolute inasmuch as he sensed you were kissing him back; on the spur of the moment, you could no longer feel the ground under your feet – you could no longer feel anything but a euphoric feeling expanding your chest.

Dissolving in his embrace, you kissed him selflessly, with all love and tenderness you’ve been harboring for this man since your nature trusted him long before your mind could too. Snape held you tight melting into the warmth of your side, unwilling to ever let go, since it might be his only chance to relish your affection he craved so bad.

“We can’t,” he breathed out as your lips parted.

Your mind still floating in the air, it took you a second to comprehend his words. “What? Why?” Delighted glint of your eyes faded all at once.

“I’m not a good party for you,” the words seemed to hurt him more than yourself.

“Let me decide!” you couldn’t believe he was backing down – now – when he made you happier than ever once in your life.

“Just look at me!” he spoke out of heart. “I’m not worthy... You deserve better. The best! And I... What can I give you?”

“Sev…”

“Although you are the one and only thing that matters to me and brings sense to my life... although I’m going to protect you at all costs… I just can’t drag you into all this shit I’m involved in without breaking your heart with the terrible things I did and certainly will do. You wouldn’t bear it if I tell you, neither would you tolerate silence or lies, which I want to tell you the least! I want to be honest with you, but truth might kill all the good feelings you have for me and... You shouldn’t have grown with any kind of empathy for me... I can’t understand how it happened, why you...”

“You’re right,” you didn’t let him finish, cupping his face and gently stroking his jaws. “I don’t know what you’ve done, but I know what you’re doing here and now! And I don’t see a bad guy behind these eyes,” your thumbs softly traced a line along his eyebrows, while you reached out for his lips giving off your soul through the kiss. Your tenderness disarmed him – too weak to abstain from pleasure of your soothing touch he couldn’t help conceding into your will. “If you think some unpleasant fact from your past, which I believe you have a plenty, would scare me away,” you pressed your forehead against his, “you’re damn wrong!”

“You have no idea who I actually am!”

“You’re the man I love,” you whispered, “and that’s just enough for me. Even if you are the Dark Lord himself.”

“I served him,” he confessed louringly knowing he might lose you forever, but his words didn’t seem to frighten you.

“Yes, that’s what I thought,” you smiled lovingly, looking him in the eyes and stroking his hair.

“But how did you…” Snape’s brows twitched in utter disbelief.

“That night, when you told me you did really bad things, remember?”

Of course, he remembered.

“You can talk to me anytime once you’re ready. I want you to know I’ll always be here for you – to listen or to share silence... I won’t leave you, whatever you say...” you wrapped your arms around his neck clinging to him with your whole essence. “Don’t push me away... Severus, please... Together we can handle everything…”

His hands landed on your sides and made their way along your back to squeeze you tightly and never let go. You felt his breathing on your skin as he let out a peaceful sigh, once his head found place on your shoulder. 

“Could you possibly light the fireplace?” a playful voice resounded in semidarkness of a cold and poorly lit room.

“I believe I could,” answered the deep one.

“And some candles would be nice.”

<<< Previous Chapter • Next Chapter >>>

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[slashssunglasses]

Mafia Slash- “Craving” P1

okay so the concept of “mafia slash” is something my friend Lily introduced to our friend group and since then we’ve all been building off of this, Mafia Slash will most likely appear several times here so be read ;)

✧༺♥༻∞　　∞༺♥༻✧ ✧༺♥༻∞　　∞༺♥༻✧ ✧༺♥༻∞　　∞༺♥༻✧

Slash: early 2000s end of snakepit- beginning of velvet remover Slash.

Backstory: (a/n I’ll do a full imagine solely on the origin story if y'all would like :}) 

Anywho, Slash was the most well known, ruthless, and feared mafia boss in the entire city- hell the entire state. His entire bloodline being gangster royalty. He never really wanted this life but after the tragic murder of his father his heart froze, a wave of pure power washing over him as he was forced to lead the “family business” at such a young age. You, see now you knew all about him, you’ve heard the stories, I mean cmon everyones heard the stories: the knives, the guns, the beatings…this guy enjoyed getting his hands dirty. It’d been rumored that Slash had been eyeing you but you never gave him attention, you didn't fear him. maybe it was because you knew he’d never hurt you. 

Unfortunately, your father-that bastard- used the common knowledge that Slash fancied you to his advantage when he found himself in some hot water with the Hudson family. It’s common knowledge that in the mafia life, fathers tend to offer their daughters as sort of “peace makers” the idea always disgusted you but you never thought that your father would be so quick to give you away like that, as if you were property. That fucking coward. But, a deals a deal, and growing up in this life you know that you never break deals, no matter how hard it’s gonna be or how much youre gonna suffer you never break a deal…especially with guys like Slash. It was done, as much as you hated it- you were now his. 

It’s been some time since you moved into the Hudson residence, Slash had been giving you your space because he understood how unfavorable it was for you to be forced into a relationship with someone you didn’t love but he was determined to make you fall for him and that you were. 

You’d never tell him of course.

 You slept in different rooms and you stayed away from his business even though you were quite used to it and even a little good at handling said business thanks to your father. You didn't think he noticed but he definitely did and it took every ounce of willpower to restrain himself from drooling right in front of you. Day and Night he fantasized about the business endeavors you’d go on, how good you were at talking your way out of things. Yet, you still had this sort of ‘dependance’ (?) on him, I mean you were one bad bitch- you did everything for yourself but you still found a way to make Slash feel like you needed his protecting or that you just needed him in general, no matter how hard you tried to push him away he still felt it, he felt that buzz in his tummy, he felt needed.

He thought you didn’t see him pulling knives and beating people up, he had this facade going on: the nice misunderstood gangster. 

Part of it was true-except the nice part, only towards you was he ever ‘soft’ and caring.  You were getting sick of him trying to act like he wasn’t evil, plus the months you’d gone without any contact other than your fingers and a few toys you’d manage to slip in. Boy oh boy, the more you were around him the more you wanted him, the more you fantasized about him using those same toys on you. It was becoming unbearable you held a grudge against him at this point. You didn’t want to want him! God it was just something abut the way he growled angrily through his teeth, laughed in the faces of petrified snitches, was just a scary guy but then would turn around and try not to stumble over his words when talking to you, he would rock on his heels nervously, he was a wreck! 

You enjoyed the power trip you got from having so much power over one of the scariest guys you’ve met. But you just wanted him to quit the act, show his true colors. What? Was he scared? Maybe then he’d know how it felt, you were scared a little at first too, living with a man in his 30′s while you were just starting to enjoy your 20′s. The hate bubbled into horniness but, you wouldn’t admit just how badly you wanted him, never! You did however watch from afar and look back on the memories your brain kept while you worked yourself on the silk sheets of the room you’d been living in. 

Riding the dildos suction cupped to the floor of the bathtub, spreading your legs under the faucet. like an animal in heat, you did anything and everything to get yourself off, the idea of it all being under Slash’s nose sent sparks of adrenaline through you. You smirked every time you two had a ‘lovers spat’ -as his men called it- because you saw his patience wear thinner and thinner each time, his desire to hide his nasty side evaporating. 

It was only a matter of time before one of you snapped 

You two had gone out for some business thing, you had no clue what it was for and frankly you didn’t care. All you knew was that you had to be done up real nice. You felt adventurous wanted to give yourself a little ‘foreplay’ beforehand by putting on the sluttiest lingerie set you owned. equipped with a garter belt, stockings, a g string, and transparent bra. It was beyond skimpy. You truly only wore it for yourself, and the idea that you’d have it on under whatever dress he bought for you for the night and he’d have no clue, was beyond thrilling. Gosh if he were to catch a glimpse what would happen? You didn’t even know. 

The night went by slowly so you decided to entertain yourself by actually speaking to the other people in attendance. A line of men drooling for you seemed to work. 

After finishing up another painfully boring conversation you slumped in your seat at the bar signaling for the bartender to bring you another whiskey. “On the rocks please” you sighed leaning on your elbow. “Whiskey? i’m sorry but you’re a woman?” a voice chuckled from behind you. 

You couldn't believe what you just heard. 

Turning your head around you scoffed, “and you’re clearly a misogynistic asshole. look at us both stating facts” you sarcastically smiled before turning back around

“No, I'm sorry I didn't mean it like that” the man chuckles awkwardly sitting next to you, “it was my lame attempt at a sarcastic joke” 

“Oh yes very lame” you giggle turning to face him, “sorry, usually I do see most of the women drinking the fruity cocktails” he awkwardly rubbed his neck, “it’s ok, don’t worry” you smile warmly. “Uh I'm Mike” he extended his hand out, “I’m y/n” you giggled. 

You two began chatting and hitting it off. 

He provided a tasteful change from all the boring drooling duds that usually attended these functions. You payed little to no attention to where Slash was and what he doing, you were too busy enjoying your time with your new friend Mike.  

“Who’s this honey?” You heard Slash’s voice perk up as you felt his arm snake around your shoulder. His touch burning your skin as you felt that thick sexual tension from these past few weeks resurface again. You tensed- an action that was supposed to keep you from melting under his rough touch. Clearly it didn't work since you could feel that familiar horny buzz in your panties. 

You looked at mike, absolute panic laced his face. 

“Oh uh, I’m sorry I didn't know I- uh ok” he scrambled away in pure fear. “Why would you do that” you jolted angrily out of his hold. Your arms crossed as you tried not to fall to your knees. God why was he appearing so sexy lately? “Why would you flirt with another man?” he snarled lowly, trying to contain his anger as to not set you off. He hated seeing you with another man, he wanted you to be his and only his. 

“I was not flirting” you scoffed, “oh yeah? I saw you, touching his arm and giggling. that man was drooling over you!” he whisper yelled, “he was?” you smirked, you did this as an attempt to make him rage, you were so tired of the fake face he put on, you wanted to see him get mad. He clenched his fists stretching his neck out, “what're you gonna do? you gonna beat him up?” you pouted, “no” he scoffed, “good. I didn't want him anyway, he was a coward. Pfft scared of you, scurrying away like a scared little mouse. I can’t with such wimps” you sighed walking away from him. 

You could feel his eyes burning into your back as you hips swayed, the clacking of your heels giving you a nice rhythm. 

Some time had passed and you were exhausted. You hadn't seen slash again for a while which normally wouldn't strike you as odd but for some reason you didn't feel okay about him being gone. On top of that you wanted to go home. Growling to yourself in annoyance you begin your trek to go look for him. 

Searching throughout the building, the front door, the bathrooms…nothing. 

Finally you exited through the back door thinking he probably stepped out for a cigarette or something. That’s when you were met with an angered Slash surrounded by his men. His fists flying up and down as he beat the absolute living shit out of some poor soul. His Blazer off, sleeves rolled up showing his tattoos, skin dewy with seat as he grunted between punches. Your brain managing to make the situation filthy.

It was then that you caught a glimpse of who he was destroying.

 Mike. 

“Slash!” you screamed and everyone’s heads shot towards yours. Mike was dropped onto the ground, his bloody face weakly crawling away. Slash stared at you, his chest rising and falling quickly as he panted. “I thought I told you to make sure she stayed inside” he grabbed one of his men by the collar

“Hey stop it!” you pushed him off, the men around you gasped quietly. “God you’re such an asshole!” you growled storming off towards the car. You didn't want him to beat someone who was innocent up, someone who didn't deserve it. You wanted him to be angry with you, that was the thrill you got, you enjoyed seeing him get angry at people who deserved it, although he was a scary guy he was also a just one. 

Slash couldn't help himself though, he wanted to make that guys face unrecognizable, he wanted him to be unable to attract anyone. 

He followed you towards the car. “Hey wait” he called out from behind you. Finally he grabbed hold of your arm right in front of the trunk of the limo you two had arrived in. “Don’t fucking touch me!” you ripped your arm from his, “I'm sorry okay, I don’t know what came over me” he sighed. The words flowed unnaturally from his lips, he was trying to keep the nice guy facade. 

“Oh my god give me a break already! Yes you do, you know exactly what came over you! Stop trying to act like this nice guy okay? Because I know you’re not” you yelled in frustration, all he did was shake his head. 

“Oh my god spare me please! I'm so sick of you acting like you’re this sweet guy. You’re a fucking pussy” you tugged on your hair. 

All of the sudden you were pushed against the car, Slash’s face close to yours, your noses touching as you felt the cool metal of his knife against your neck. “This is what you want? hm? you want me to hurt you?” he snarled tapping the cold blade around your skin. 

An orgasmic rush coursed through you as your adrenaline pumped, you could feel the blood speeding throughout your veins. Your breath shocks the flicked the knife back into the protecter. 

Once the blade was out of sight he pushed off of you. All you did was stare at him absolutely breathless. “Fuck you” you finally pushed him harshly, all he did was look back at you with that cocky grin of his, the one that would spread across his face when he knew he was winning. You didn't know what came over you but you grabbed him by his collar pulling him close to you as you leaned on the car. 

Your lips crashed in a desperate sloppy make out. You didn't care that you'd just caved, the way his hands explored your body overtop the tight black dress made your knees fall weak. 

You wanted him. 

You needed him.

 You craved him.

Your fingers tangled into his curls as you pushed his face closer to yours smushing your lips together as his tongue explored your mouth. Big ringed hands squeezing your lower back pressing you close to him. You could feel his hard pressing against your thigh. God you were soaked. The horniness taking over you, turning you into the filthiest woman he’s ever encountered. 

You pulled a hand away from his shoulders and palmed him through his pants. “This, this is what I do to huh?” you panted in between kisses as he groaned into your mouth. “Mm fuck” you whined as you felt him pulsate through his pants, “take me, take me home and do all the things you think about doing to me while you pump your cock, I want you be the big bad man you are” you whispered desperately in his ear as you stroked him through his pants. 

He looked at you with nearly blacked out eyes, full of lust, full of desire, he was like an animal in heat. “Take me home big guy” you giggled squeezing his muscles. 

“Fuck me” he growled grabbing you and throwing you in the car…

TO BE CONTINUED...