#but she's never at her best because she keeps dragging herself down by the throat

[wickedcityy]

i am so easy to please sometimes. give me a fictional woman and the opportunity to watch her absolutely destroy herself and everyone around her and i will be so happy. like yes yes this is all i wanted in life,,,

[jellyfishsthings]

Hold Your Breath My Darling

WARNINGS: angst, like super angst, lovesick and whipped Spencer, earlier seasons Spencer, Hotch trained reader, Ex spy, fem reader, dying (or coming close to it), panic attacks, typical criminal minds violence... there will be a part two soon, please let my know if I am missing anything else

requests are open

part 2

The BAU team arrived at the small town of Crescent Hills, ready to investigate a series of gruesome murders. The victims all shared similar physical characteristics. The team quickly realized that the killer was targeting women who looked exactly like you, the same hair, the same eyes and somehow personality, which had to be the scarriwst part of them all.

As the team discussed their next move, Spencer couldn't help but stare at her. She was the spitting image of the victims, but she seemed unfazed by the situation. In fact, she suggested that she pose as bait in order to catch the killer. She was the agent her mentor made her, because Hotch would have done the same in a heartbeat. Yet as Hotch looked at the young woman standing at his side, standing tall and holding her head high with pride and bravery, wearing a mask of calmness hiding her whirlwind of emotions with quite the efficiency.

Spencer's heart skipped a beat at the thought of his best friend putting herself in danger. His hands shook with dread and anxiety and his mind raced to a million directions as his heart seemed to weight a few tons more than usual. He was so confused. He had always seen her as a friend, but in that moment, he couldn't deny the intense feelings he had for her. Yes he had always cared for her, and wouldn't wish any harm in her way, but at this moment he desperately wished to have been the genius he claimed to be, to find a way out of this, to solve this without any one getting hurt, to keep her safe and alive and well next to him, hoping she felt even a sliver of the intesity of his emotions. He knew he couldn't let her go through with this plan. He had to act quickly, not caring if he embarrassed himself in the process.

"You can't do this, it's too dangerous," Spencer pleaded with her, his eyes shining with unshead tears as he saw her walking in her hotel room, trying to make herself more appealing for the UnSub.

"I can handle myself, Spencer," she replied confidently."Do not worry. I have been trained from the best." She whispered as she lightly hugged him and kissed his cheeks and the storm raging inside of him seemed to calm down for a few short seconds.

But Spencer couldn't shake off the feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't bear the thought of losing her. He had been so focused on his work and solving the case that he hadn't even realized his true feelings for her until now. As the team set up a plan, Spencer couldn't help but keep a close eye on her. He couldn't let her out of his sight. But as she put herself in harm's way, Spencer's heart was in his throat

The warehouse was quiet, the ominous shadows twisting around the corners like specters waiting to strike and fear started clawing its way to her heart. Derek Morgan’s voice echoed in her mind; “You’re one of us, kiddo. Trust your instincts.” But in this moment, trust felt like an anchor dragging her deeper into despair.

She was second guessing herself now as well as her abilities. Maybe she had made a mistake. She had volunteered without hesitation, knowing the stakes were high. A string of brutal murders had terrorized several towns, and the Behavioral Analysis Unit needed to understand what made this killer tick. But she had never expected that the very thing she sought to uncover would entrap her instead.

As she stepped deeper into the warehouse, darkness enveloped her like a suffocating blanket. The cold was biting, but the fear coursed through her veins like ice. She had set off the sound of a chilling recording, a mocking lure that had been crafted specifically for the UnSub. The air was alive with tension, every creak of the old metal structure amplifying her dread.

“Just breathe,” she murmured to herself, but her heart raced faster with every passing second. Somehow, despite the adrenaline's flow, she felt an unsettling calm, as if her body was preparing for something inevitable.

She thought of the team back at the BAU. Hotch would be analyzing their data, Emily and Derek keeping their wits about them, and as she closed her eyes, she could almost hear Spencer Reid’s gentle voice. He was always a soothing presence, with his deep well of knowledge and quirky sense of humor.

“Remember when I tried to teach you how to play chess?” he whispered in her mind, a memory flooding back. They had been at a coffee shop breaking down a case when she had confided that she hadn’t learned the game as a child. With a persistent twinkle in his eye, he taught her the basics, patiently explaining the rules as she fumbled through the moves. They laughed when she mistakenly thought pawns could move diagonally anytime.

In this dark warehouse, she recalled how he had once said, “You have to think several moves ahead. In chess, just as in life.” She held onto that wisdom now, fighting to stifle her panic.

The quiet was shattered by footsteps echoing through the maze of crates and rusted metal. She steeled herself, adrenaline rushing through her as the UnSub emerged from the shadows. He was a tall figure, cloaked in darkness, his face obscured by a mask that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Welcome,” he said, his voice low and taunting. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

She fought the surge of terror that threatened to overwhelm her. How? How had he been expecting her? She was a trained spy for the love of God, before joining the BAU, had she rusted her abilities this quickly? It had only been five years. Five wonderful, free years.

She couldn’t falter. In her mind, she anchored herself to another memory: a sunny afternoon with Reid. They had shared ice cream on a picnic blanket, debating the best flavors like children. He had quipped that pistachio was underappreciated, while she insisted on the classic chocolate chip cookie dough.

“You’re practically a gourmet, aren’t you?” she teased, and his laugh had brightened that day, sunlight dancing in his eyes.

But now, there were no sunny picnics; shadows danced along the walls as the UnSub advanced towards her. She could see glimmers of rage flickering in his eyes, an intensity that struck fear into her heart.

“Let’s see just how strong you are,” he hissed, gripping her arms in a vice-like hold. She gasped as pain shot through her, but even as she winced, she summoned the memory of Reid, who had taught her the importance of mindfulness in the face of fear.

“Leave me alone!” she shouted, fueling her resolve with every ounce of anger she could muster.

But he laughed, a cruel sound that sent tremors of dread through her. The sharpness of reality cut through her feelings of safety, and she swallowed hard, desperately piecing together scattered memories, trying to fund the best course of action but it was already to late. She felt sluggish and slow, something was wrong.

She tried to find the good memories, to find courage and strength, such as Reid’s infinite patience, his love for obscure trivia, the whimsical way he could make her smile even in the darkest of moments.

“Your game is over,” the UnSub snarled, his breath hot against her skin.

As he began to carry out his twisted intentions, she closed her eyes tightly, conjuring one last memory, one that radiated warmth in the encroaching darkness. The night Reid had confessed his fears of inadequacy, only to find solace in their bond, his fingers grazing hers in comforting reassurance, his eyes reflecting the kind of understanding that only comes from empathy.

“I’m not afraid,” she whispered, even as fear clawed at her soul. “No matter what happens, I’m not afraid. I will not give you the satisfaction of the perfect murder, trust me it will be a fight to bring me down.”

"Oh, but you have already lost. I think you must be feeling it be now."

Her heart pounded with the realization that she might not escape. But in those harrowing moments, as she fought against the loop of pain and despair, she anchored herself in the love and camaraderie of her team—every shared laugh, every overcoming of hardship. No matter what happened, they would carry her spirit forward.

In those last flickers of consciousness, she thought of Spencer, his brilliance, his laugh, and the unyielding strength of their bond. She hoped he would forgive her for failing to bring him the answers they so desperately needed, all while holding onto the belief that even the darkest of nights must give way to dawn.

With that thought, she embraced the memories that would never fade, hoping they would echo in the hearts of those she loved, a reminder that even in their darkest hours, they could find light.

Then the darkness came.

The cold grip of fear tightened around Spencer Reid's heart as he stood in the dimly lit acting conference room of the BAU, a small desk office of the local police station. The air was thick with tension and the weight of impending decisions that could alter their fates. He paced the floor anxiously, running a hand through his tousled hair while his mind raced with worst-case scenarios.

“Guys, we can’t go through with this,” he implored, turning to face his team, his voice a tremor of desperation. “The unsub is more unpredictable than we anticipated, and we can’t risk her life. What if—”

“It’s not just about her,” Derek Morgan countered, crossing his arms. “This mission aims to take down a dangerous criminal. We need to act fast before he slips through our fingers again.”

“But what if he targets her, Morgan?” Spencer’s voice escalated, echoing in the room. “I've analyzed his patterns. If she’s involved, she’s at extreme risk. We can’t afford to lose her!”

Emily Prentiss, caught between the mounting urgency and Reid’s grave expression, glanced at the other agents. “We have to trust our instincts, Spencer, but you know we all understand the risk involved. We can deploy a secondary team to protect her—”

“No!” Reid snapped, panic threading his tone. “You don’t understand. I can’t shake this feeling. What if this is a trap? She shouldn’t be there. We need to stop this. We need to call it off.”

The room fell silent as his pleas hung in the air, but time was running out, and the team had a job to do. With reluctant determination, they gathered their gear and left the conference room, unknowingly walking into the lion’s den.

Spencer’s heart raced as he followed them, a whirlwind of dread washing over him. They arrived at the location of the suspected meeting and quickly fanned out, but dread settled deeper in his chest as time ticked away.

Minutes felt like hours, and Reid’s worries morphed into a nightmare. Suddenly, over the comms, a shout broke through the chaos, and panic pierced the stillness. “She’s down! She’s down!”

Spencer’s instinct kicked in, but it felt like running through molasses as he pushed past his teammates. His breath quickened dramatically. He reached the scene, and there she was—Her body lay still against the cold asphalt, pale and lifeless.

Everything around him blurred as the sirens wailed in the distance, blending into an agonizing scream that reverberated in his mind. He dropped to his knees beside her, an overwhelming despair crashing down like a tidal wave. “No, no, no…” he chanted, disbelief coursing through him as the realization sank in.

He placed his hands on her chest, feeling the emptiness where her spirit should have been. “Stay with me. Please,” he whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks as he started CPR. Each pump felt futile, desperation fueling his actions—A metronome to the rhythm of her fading heartbeat.

“Come on, please! Breathe, breathe!” Spencer’s voice cracked as he pressed harder, not willing to accept the undeniable truth standing stark against reality—a truth that seemed to throng his senses.

Suddenly, strong hands pulled him backward. “Spencer, let the medics handle this,” a voice shouted through the fog of his anguish. It was Morgan, trying to wrestle him back to reality.

“No! I can’t! I won’t let her go!” Reid screamed, thrashing against the hold, fighting against the gravity of grief. But the world around him was collapsing, everything turning hazy, the wail of the sirens growing louder, drowning him in despair.

“Spencer!” Morgan’s voice cut through the fog, but it felt distant, as if coming from underwater. He was pulled away from the scene, from her cold body that lay so still. The agents moved in, the medics began their work, but Reid felt as if a piece of himself was being torn apart, the agonizing reality sinking its teeth deeper into his soul.

He fell to his knees, the weight of his failure crashing into him like a heavy stone, unyielding and unforgiving. Tears streamed down his face as he watched helplessly, the ache in his chest mimicking a gaping wound.

Desperation clawed at him as he realized that no amount of pleading or data could bring her back. And in that moment, the chaos of the world faded away, and all he knew was a profound loss that reverberated through every fiber of his being.

And then the impossible happened. She was still bleeding, covered in deep cuts by a knife that would scar her for life. Yet her chest lifted lightly before falling down.

Once.

Twice.

He was sure he was dreaming of it. His mind playing a trick on him, not being ready to register his life without her existence.

But no.

It was true. She was breathing.

[anas-aspiration]

Silence & the bedroom.

Summary: toxic!ellie x reader, You recently decided to keep distance from your situationship because of how she treated you. Ellie uses the fact that you’re heartbroken to get into your pants and it works.

Warnings: dildo (r!receiving), oral (r! Receiving), masturbation (e!receiving), making out, manipulation from ellie, kind of virginity loss (r!receiving) ellie kinda rough.

Taglist hehe: @clairoscharm

"You know she doesn't love you, right?" Ellie said, looking deep into your eyes.

You became silent. She said it so confidently it was almost like you're the weird one for thinking it was a bold thing to ask. Her hand lay on your thigh, drawing small shapes around your soft skin anticipating your answer. Even though you both had been best friends for years, it had still been the first time Ellie said anything of that nature to you.

"Um, well..." you sank further into the bed, searching your mind for a way to answer her question, because the truth is that you really don't know.

"It's okay..It's hard when someone treats you like that." She spoke softly, putting her hand up to your cheek.

"Yeah, it fucking sucked. Who the fuck leaves someone in the dark like that?” You began tearing up. “I felt like nothing.”

“Babe, you are not nothing. I love you.” She said, taking your face in both hands.

“I love you too Ellie.” Your expression lifted.

There was a quiet moment filled with tension between the two of you. With every second passed you both inched closer to each other, without a word exchanged, and your lips locked.

Her hands fell from your face down to your sides. She was moving quickly. The kiss deepened and she took your hand in hers leading it to your shorts which was her way of telling you to take them off. You backed out of the kiss, hands still frozen in place.

“What are we doing?” You whispered.

“You need this baby. Don’t you want to feel loved?”

Your eyes gave a blank expression, but you nodded. Time blurred in your dazed little head. The only things you were aware of now were Ellies hands on you and the ache in your heart, and she could tell because of the way your eyelids drooped at each lick of her tongue that you were hers now.

“Ellie..” You moaned out while arching your back into her.

“I know baby..” she mumbled softly between your thighs. She knew everything, about you, about this situation, she held the cards. She was well aware that you never gotten exactly this far with anyone else. You never liked anyone enough to bother. “Mm baby?”

You lifted your head off the pillows to look at her, your expression turning euphoric at the sight of her below you continuing to work at you between words.

“Do you think you can take a little more?“ She looked at you with puppy dog eyes. “For me?”

“Yes yes. Please.” You pleaded.

She took her fingers out of you, causing your breath to become shallow. She quickly returned from her closet with a pink dido. She tapped your lips twice.

“Open.”

You complied.

She didn’t waste a second teasing or even preparing you before she went as far into your throat as she could. She did give you a second to breathe after this but then continued at a steady pace, earning sweet gagging sounds from you. She slipped a hand into her pajama pants so swiftly it almost didn’t catch your attention. You could already hear how wet she was, had you wondering how long she had this planned. The whole night?

She finally let you breathe, dragging the dildo down past your stomach and to your slit. Your heart was racing, but you kept a brave face without struggle.

You winced as she brought it inside of you yet adjusted to the stretch in seconds. It wasn’t long before she found a rhythm pumping her fingers into herself while also handling you.

“Fuck, you’re ughh- so beautiful like this.” She groaned above you.

All you could do was stare up at her, yearning for something you were already receiving. It felt like something was missing. She was sitting with one leg under the other, hand still pumping underneath her boxers, and on her face she wore this expression telling you she was close. She began bucking into her palm, causing you to meet her pace with your hips.

“I’m close..” you mumbled.

She didn’t respond, looking like she wasn’t even acknowledging your presence rather trying to chase her high. With a fee more pumps, she Let out a lengthy moan, pushing the dildo far as she could into you by reflex, and causing you to come with her. There was a few moments of heavy breathing between the two of you, and that aching feeling in your heart disappeared. The feeling had gradually faded, and as you opened your eyes, you saw Ellie avoiding your gaze, regret etched across her face. Your heart sank even deeper than it had been before.

A/n! I decided to make it just toxic ellie instead of toxic ex ellie. Also feel like this wasn’t toxic enough for some people cause other drabbles be literally insaneee, but whatever. Hope you liked it😊 and if you have any ideas request them I will like 99% do them and quick.

[pumpkinpastiesandcoffee]

Princess - Lip Gallagher

Lip Gallagher x F! Reader 18+

Summary: Tony's little sister has a crush on Lip and Lip has fallen for her even if she seems like a princess. Words: 2400 Warnings: NSFW, Dry sex / Dry humping, alcohol, marijuana

~MDNI~

Y/n was Tony Markovich's little sister and she had the world's biggest crush on Phillip Gallagher. Lip hadn't always liked the girl, he found her too shy, always hiding in the background but the last few months, bumping into her as she leaves her brothers place to then hanging out together, he found himself falling for her. Walking sunshine would be his best description of her, followed closely by princess which she complains about although she secretly loves the nickname.  

Lip was apprehensive to start anything with Tony's little sister, the man might like Fiona and by extension Lip and his family, but he was still a cop and he'd seen how scary he could be towards her boyfriend Kyle a few years back so it was no surprise she'd been single since. Y/n however was afraid Lip just wasn't into her and had been too afraid to say anything, her anxiety keeping her feelings just below the surface. It was hard though, watching him with Karen then even harder when they stopped seeing each other because now she could feasibly tell him how she feels but still the words would stick in her throat.

Tonight, she sat huddled under a picnic blanket, staring at the small crackling fire as people around the makeshift circle laughed and chatted. She glanced up when a beer bottle entered her line of sight and smiled up at Lip who was offering her the drink. "Thanks Lip, looks like it was a fight for the cooler tonight" she mused, eyeing the small group of guys that were stood around said cooler yelling at each other. "Ah, worth the fight I recon" Lip had laughed as he sat down beside her and as she tugged the blanket tighter around herself. Getting a glare from her in response, "It's not my fault I dressed for summer in summer, only for the temperature to drop like it's fall".

Lip pulled out a joint, lighting it up and taking a long drag of it, watching the smoke he blows back out dissipate into the air. Turning slightly, he offered it to y/n before remembering she doesn't smoke, "sorry, I always forget, you're a princess" he scoffed, lips curled into a playful smirk. He often made fun of her for it but never with the intention of forcing her into it and up until now she had never shown an interest either, never seemed bothered by the teasing. However, to his surprise he felt her fingers brush over his hand as she moved to take it from him causing Lip to raise a brow in surprise.

"Y'know I'm joking right? It's fine you don't smoke" Lip was quick to reassure her as he turned to face her properly. "Yeah, I know. You'd never make me do anything I didn't want to Lip. I want to try it, just been afraid of getting caught by Tony and he's working tonight, so" she shrugged, blue eyes flicking up to meet his. "Plus, I know I'm safe with you for my first-time smoking weed so, if the offer stands?" Lip nodded, that familiar warm feeling settling in his chest which he was quick to wave off as the weed even though he knew better. He handed the joint to her, explaining how to smoke it then watching as she followed his instructions.

Y/n only held it in her lungs for a few seconds before the dry burn of her lungs had her coughing. Lip reached over, rubbing her back as he laughed at her, a shit eating grin on his face. “Cat got your lung?” Lip laughed again, only to get whacked in the chest by her hand causing him to cough. Y/n shot him daggers but her lips were quirked up, her features alight with amusement the way he loved and it made him smile and that warm feeling tighten.

It only took a few minutes for it to kick in, but when it did, y/n found herself entranced by the fire, the way it moved and the flames broke off and flicked up into the sky had her captivated. Lip however was captivated instead by her, the way her eyes watched the flames and reflected them and the little gasp when it made a particularly loud crackle. At one point y/n leant into Lip’s side, his arm moving to wrap around her while she spoke, “Does it always feel this peaceful?” Lip shook his head, squeezing her lightly, “Not always, depends on the person and how often they smoke.” Y/n made a small sound in reply before smiling up at him. “I think this is the first time in my life I actually feel calm, like I can talk without everything catching in my throat, I like it” her voice trailed off as her eyes returned to the fire.

She perked up as a new song came on, “Oh! Oh Lip, I love this song” she beamed, standing up and extending her hand to him, “dance with me?” Had it been anyone else he would’ve said no but he couldn’t, not to her and with that he placed his beer down and took her hand. Y/n wasn’t a good dancer, but her awkwardness was rather endearing to Lip as they danced to a few songs, laughing freely as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a hug. Lip smiled, wrapping his own arms around her waist and hugged her back before lifting her up and spinning her around. She giggled, holding on tighter until he set her back down. Y/n expected the anxiety to bubble up as she looked up at him but instead found only the uninhibited desire to kiss him. One hand still holding his shoulder, the other moved to his cheek as she leaned in to kiss him, catching Lip off guard entirely. It took a second for him to kiss back but once he did, he never wanted to stop. It was a simple kiss, but they could both feel more, so when she pulled back, he pouted causing her to laugh.

“Walk me home?” she asked, a small smile on her lips. Lip nodded, “yeah, ‘course.” He took her hand and they headed for Tony’s house, although as they reached the foot path, the cool breeze had y/n shivering, curling into his arm. As much as he liked her being that close, he felt bad and quickly pulled away to shed his coat and wrap her in it, smiling when only her finger tips peeked through the sleeves. Taking her hand again, he was relieved when she leant back into him. As they reached the porch, she unlocked the door and stepped inside, smiling back at him, “coming?” Lip was quick to take her outstretched hand and follow her in. They walked upstairs and she pushed open one of the doors, he looked around her bedroom before looking back at her. She was kicking off her shoes and hopping onto her bed so he followed suit, coming to sit beside her, back against the wall and feet hanging off the other side of her bed while she sat facing him, legs tucked to the side.

Her fingers brushed his hand, pulling his eyes to her, “can I kiss you again?” Lip smiled, leaning forward and she was quick to meet him halfway. This time the kiss wasn’t unexpected and Lip made sure to make it a good one. His hands sat either side of her face, fingers curling into her hair as his tongue traced her bottom lip and without hesitation she opened her mouth for him, giving him complete control as she leant into him. Her hands grasped at his shoulders and Lip moved a hand to her waist, pulling her closer until she was sat, straddling his lap. The kissing only got more heated from there, Lip ran his hand on her waist under her top, loving the way she leaned into his touch. His hand moved to her back, tracing up and down her spine before returning to her waist.

Lip broke the kiss causing y/n to whine before he pressed his lips to her neck, hands moving to shove his jacket off her shoulders. She easily shrugged it off, letting the heavy fabric hit the floor as she focused on the way his teeth nipped her neck making her gasp. “Lip” her voice came out so softly it was barely audible but their proximity meant he heard her and he smiled against her throat, “Princess?” Her cheeks reddened at the teasing tone, her fingers carding through his hair, tugging at the short pieces at the back making him groan as he looked up to her. Both of his hands sat on her hips now and he gripped them tightly, pulling her forward, grinding her against the rough denim that wasn’t doing much to conceal how hard he was in that moment. She surprised herself with the moan that escaped her throat, cheeks now a deep shade of red as she looked down at him.

“Lip, I…” her voice trailed off and Lip stopped, eyes lifting to meet hers, brows knitting together, “We don’t have to if you don’t want to” She shook her head, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before glancing down, “I want to, I really do but, you should know I’m, well I’m a virgin.” Lip felt bad, the way she whispered the word ‘virgin’ sounded like she was ashamed and his hand caught the side of her face, encouraging her to look at him, “It’s okay.” Now it was his turn for his voice to trail off as he sighed, “You’re still high though, we can’t… you’re first time should be sober.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I should’ve told you before I invited you up here, now we’re both, I’m sorry Lip!” y/n rambled, immediately afraid she’d ruined his night and was about to hop off when Lip grabbed her hip, shaking his head, “It’s okay, we can just, make-out if you want? Or not if you don’t want to.” She shifted her weight back to the centre of his lap to kiss him however the friction had them both groaning. She was quick to apologise again and Lip was just as quick to reassure her it was okay, pressing his lips to hers in hopes of returning to the make-out session.

Lip kept his hands to her back and waist, his lips on hers or the hickey he had started earlier. Y/n however was still well aware of just how turned on they both were and decided to roll her hips against him. Maybe it was the weed or maybe it was the desperation for some form of friction, either way, feeling Lip dig his fingers into her waist made her smile. It wasn’t until she did it a second time with a bit more force that Lip realised it was no longer an accident, he glanced up at her with a brow raised and she bit her lip, “Is this okay?” Lip was sure he should say no and stop her, he should be decent and tell her to go to bed, but his decency seemed to stop at sex. Grinding on one another though? That was fair game. So instead, he found himself pushing his hips hard up into her, watching with a smirk as she gasped.

Things devolved into desperation after that, both tipsy and high, they wanted to feel good and their hot kisses full of tongue and teeth were only adding fuel to the fires burning in them. Lip was now gripping y/n’s hips tightly, using them as leverage to drag her over his now painfully hard cock, grunting as he pressed his lips to the crook of her neck. Y/n was no better, the previous slow rolling of her hips was now faster and getting uneven like her breathing, the small whimpers and moans only pushing Lip closer to his own climax. “Fuck, princess, you sound so sweet” Lip groaned against her ear, kissing her temple then her lips. She had avoided speaking, knowing sentences weren’t going to be achievable right now but she stuttered nonetheless, “so close, Lip, so” her voice cut off with a particularly harsh thrust from Lip. “Lip, Lip please, Lip,” she whimpered, nails biting into his shoulders as she chanted his name. She came moments later, body tensing as she cried out his name while Lip kept her moving as until he came too, groaning against her chest.

Y/n began to come down from her high, head resting against his shoulder as she got her breathing back to normal. Lip held her tightly still, arms now wrapped around her waist and his head leant back against the window. They stayed like that for a while, both enjoying the euphoria and comfort within one another before finally y/n leant back, cheeks red as she looked at Lip. He was quick to kiss her before leaning back to meet her eyes, “you okay?” She nodded, “yeah, I’m okay. You?” Lip nodded, kissing her cheek softly. “It’s probably really silly but god I am so tired now” she whispered causing Lip to laugh. “No, it’s not, it’s pretty normal. I should get home anyway; let you get to bed” He smiled softly at her.

Nodding, y/n slipped herself off his lap, “Yeah, plus if Tony comes home to us in bed together, I think he’d kill you.” Lip laughed nervously, hopping off the bed and grabbing his jacket, holding it in front of his crotch in hopes he could hide the dark patch they’d both made. He leant across the bed, kissing her gently but with a depth that had her head spinning. “I’ll see you tomorrow princess” Lip smirked at her before heading out. Y/n sat on her bed wondering if she just imagined it all or if it was some crazy weed induced hallucination, however as her eyes flicked across the floor, she noticed Lip’s scarf on the floor and she went a grabbed it. With the scarf in hand, she curled up under her covers, bringing the scarf up to her nose and breathing in, smiling at the smell of cigarettes, weed and beer she knew it was real and found herself falling asleep to thought of seeing Lip again tomorrow.

[imjustdreamingig]

Jesus, what's a girl to do?

Part 1, Part 3

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Robin meddles, Steve is clueless, and you're freaking out. So a regular day.

A/N: i genuinely have no idea where this came from, i legit posted the first part like 2 years ago. but I guess I want to start actually writing more? idk! we shall see. anyways, this fic stems from my (occasional) exhaustion to shy!reader and i'm basing this more on how horrifically i acted around the guys i would like even tho i consider myself an extrovert. enjoy whatever this is??? and lmk if u want a part 3! also this is not proof read so bear w me

warnings: sfw, swearing, uhhh i think that's it???

You were screwed. Absolutely, terribly, fucking screwed.

You were also very angry at your mother, giving her a glare every time she glanced your way at the dinner table. She merely gave you a wink in return, not understanding the true implications of her actions.

"So, Steve," your mom began as she cut a bit of the chicken on her plate, "you play basketball, right? Is that something you want to keep doing in university?" This time, you openly stared at your mom, trying to telepathically convey that you would literally kill her if she kept talking. You haven't made up your mind if you're joking or not.

Steve cleared his throat, "Yeah, I do, I'd say I'm pretty good at it, too. Wherever I end up going, I'll probably join their team for fun." He turned to you after taking a bite of his meal, smirking. "You like basketball too, right?"

You choked on your water, wiping your mouth with your sleeve. You looked at Steve properly for practically the first time that night, but your voice never wavered. "No, not really, why?"

He turned back to his food, amusement gracing his voice. "Well, I see you and Robin sitting together at every game, even the away ones, so I just assumed." If your face could sport a visible blush, you knew it would be a bright red, hot, mess.

"Well, I- I get dragged by Robin because she doesn't like sitting alone or going to random schools by herself like, half an hour away. Do you even watch the news? Girls by themselves are basically the perfect bait for random kidnappings and stuff, especially girls in high school, like I mean the statistics for-"

"Y/N" You're rambling is halted by your mother's voice. Steve is looking at you in bemusement. You are contemplating death. The situation is not looking good.

"Could you grab me some water from the kitchen, with ice," your mother said with a strained smile, holding out her glass. You grab it and push your chair out. "Sure, yeah," you replied. As you made your way to the kitchen, your mind replays the last hour of the events that have transpired, wondering what you could've possibly done in your past life to deserve this.

How could your own mother, the woman who birthed you, ask the hottest guy in your grade if he wanted to stay for dinner and not consult you first, all whilst knowing you had the most ridiculous crush on the guy.

Betrayed by the ones closest to you. This is probably how Julius Caesar felt.

After overcoming your initial shock, and lets face it, mortification of being paired up with Steve for your English project, you attempted to the best of your abilities to push down your feelings and remain professional in order to actually work on the project and make sure you got an A. Your grades would not suffer over a stupid crush on a stupid boy, that's where you drew the line. Unfortunately, this plan was not working out so well.

It was actually failing, horrifically at that.

It had been about a month since the semester started and the project had been assigned—a complex analysis of a classic book of your choice and how that particular novel has inspired the creation of others and advanced its genre. You had to write a collaborative essay to hand in to your teacher, as well as create an interactive presentation for your classmates explaining your chosen novel.

This was all due at the end of the semester and you'd be given no in class time to work on it since you had an ample amount time to work on it outside of school. It would also replace the need for a final exam, which was great news. When your teacher had explained the project, you were ecstatic, knowing exactly what book you wanted to do: Pride and Prejudice.

Then, you remembered who you had to do the project with, this huge, daunting, complex, project, where you would need to interact with your partner in close proximity for an extended period of time. You felt faint.

Steve, in his defence, had tried to approach you on multiple occasions to try and figure out when you two should meet to try and start the project. But, obviously, whenever you saw so much as a glimpse of him in the hallway, you would make yourself scarce.

The only time he would actually be able to talk to you was in your shared English class. Robin was beginning to go crazy at your increasingly outlandish excuses as to why you couldn't meet up with Steve after school in order to work on your project.

"Oh sorry, my mom needs my help on some stuff tonight."

"I have to take my brother to soccer practice."

"I can't today, I have an eye doctor appointment."

"My dog actually needs to go to the vet, she's sick, sorry."

"My family and I are going on a road trip this weekend, so I'm not free."

"My sister broke her leg uh— skiing, and she needs help writing stuff for school."

"Funny story, Robin has a crazy ex thats trying to get her to meet up with him again, and I have to help her slash their tires and like, do girl stuff, it's personal, so I'm not free, maybe next week though?"

That last excuse is what caused Robin to snap. She knew that Steve knew that you were making shit up, Robin has never even been in a relationship, let alone have an ex. Also, you didn't even have a sister, what gives!

You also had no clue exactly how close the pair had gotten due to working together at the video store and that she'd told Steve she was into girls. Therefore, like the great best friend she was, Robin decided it was time she intervened, for everyones sake really, but mostly yours.

"God," you sighed, "I never thought I would be so into arms, like not the huge, bulging one, you know? All veiny and red, that just scares me, hello, his are just ones that are like slightly defined, but have a very obvious outline of muscle, like I can tell he's strong, and fuck, his biceps, is it bad that I want to like, bite them? Because every time I look and him and he's fixing his hair I just keep getting this urge to—wait where are you going? Robin? Ok, OK! I'll stop, I promise! Come back!"

If Robin had to hear another anecdote about how you wanted to bite his arms, she was going to puke.

Your continuous blabbering about how good Steve's hair looked or how good those jeans looked on him and your inability to have one proper conversation with him or stay in the same room as him for longer than two minutes was making her go insane. She couldn't take it anymore.

So, Robin devised a plan, which one day she was sure you would thank her for—hopefully.

First, she inconspicuously made sure that you had nothing planned for Thursday night, already knowing you were free but wanting to double check that no random stuff had come up.

Then, she called your mom, who absolutely adored Robin. She told her about your situation and how if she did nothing, your infatuation for Steve was literally going to give her an aneurysm. Robin would tell you that she wanted to hang out Thursday night so you would get ready, but instead of her showing up, it would be Steve.

Not surprisingly, your mom agreed to Robin's crazy plan. She thought it was about time you got a boyfriend. You had already talked about Steve so much to her anyways, but any time she would tell you to just try talking to the guy, you vehemently refused.

"Mom, are you insane, I'm not going to do that," you scoffed as if literally just having a conversation with another person was the most insane idea in the world.

"Mija, how else are you supposed to get to know people if you can't speak to them? Besides, you never seem to have a problem talking back to me whenever we have an argument," you mom shrugged as she continued folding the laundry you were helping her with.

"Oh come on," you sighed exasperatedly, "that's not the same thing and you know it."

"I'm just saying, by the looks of it, I don't think I'll be a grandmother."

"Mom, what, hello!?"

Getting Steve to show up at your house was easier than Robin thought. She conveniently told him right before the beginning of their shift on Thursday that you'd told Robin that they should all get together at your house to finally get started on the project. Robin smiled a bit wider than necessary when Steve enthusiastic agreed to go.

When Robin gave Steve your address and told him that she would be over a little later because she left some stuff at her house, that no, she didn't need a ride and that no, she was fine walking, Steve was none the wiser to her actual plan.

As Robin saw Steve pull out of her driveway and making his way to your house, she gave herself a mental pat on the back and started thinking about what movie she should watch after dinner, knowing that the school day tomorrow would be very entertaining.

When Steve rang your doorbell, he was still clueless about the real intentions of Robin's plan, but when you opened the door and he saw your eyes go wide and your mouth drop slightly open, almost as if you weren't expecting to see him, something clicked in his head.

This was going to be fun.

[misswynters]

Jinx comforting depressed reader...as best she could

featuring. jinx x platonic! sister reader

requested by anon

Jinx wasn’t the best at handling emotions, well at least not the messy, quiet ones that didn’t come with explosions or screaming matches. But when she saw you, curled up on the edge of the old couch in the hideout, staring at nothing in particular, she couldn’t just walk away. It wasn’t the first time she’d found you like this, but it still hit her like a sucker punch to the gut every single time.

She approached cautiously, her usual chaotic energy dialed back to something softer. The quiet shuffle of her boots against the floor was the only sound as she made her way over, dropping down beside you with a loud plop. She stretched her legs out in front of her, slouching dramatically, trying to fill the space with her presence alone.

“You know,” she started, twirling a strand of her blue hair around her finger, “I was gonna blow something up today. Had the whole thing planned out—fireworks, kabooms, the works. But then I thought…” She leaned her head back and tilted it to look at you. “Maybe explosions aren’t what we need today.”

You blinked slowly, finally glancing her way, your expression unreadable. “We?”

“Yeah, we,” she said with a shrug, nudging your leg with hers. “You’re my partner-in-crime, remember? What’s the point of causing chaos if you’re not there to laugh about it after?”

You let out a faint snort, the first crack in the wall of silence that had been surrounding you all day. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make Jinx’s grin widen.

“Ah, there it is! I knew you still had some life in you, sis.” She pulled herself up into a cross-legged position, turning to face you fully. “Okay, let’s make a deal. You talk to me—about whatever’s got you all doom-and-gloom—and I’ll make it worth your while.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What’s ‘worth my while’ supposed to mean?”

She smirked, her eyes glinting mischievously. “Guess you’ll have to find out. But you’ve got my full attention, which, let’s be real, is worth its weight in gold.”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. Jinx always had a way of breaking through your walls, no matter how high you tried to build them. You hesitated, your gaze dropping to your hands, which were twisting nervously in your lap.

“It’s… hard to explain,” you murmured. “I just feel… heavy. Like I’m stuck in this fog, and no matter what I do, I can’t get out of it.”

Jinx’s expression softened, the teasing glint in her eyes replaced by something gentler. She reached out and took your hands in hers, her grip warm and grounding. “Yeah, that fog sucks,” she said simply. “I’ve been there. And it feels like it’s never gonna go away, right?”

You nodded, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you.

“Well, here’s the thing,” she continued, squeezing your hands lightly. “That fog? It’s a liar. It wants you to think you’re stuck forever, but you’re not. You’ve got me, and I’ll keep dragging you through it if I have to.”

Her words were unpolished, maybe even clumsy, but they hit exactly where they needed to. You felt a tear slide down your cheek, and before you could wipe it away, Jinx was leaning over to wrap you in a tight, slightly awkward hug. She smelled like gunpowder and oil and something uniquely her, and it was oddly comforting.

“Okay, okay, no more crying,” she said, pulling back just enough to look at you. “Because I’ve got a plan.”

You sniffled, your curiosity piqued despite everything. “A plan?”

“Yep!” She stood up and offered you her hand. “We’re gonna do something that makes you smile, even if it kills me. And I’m not talking about one of those fake, polite smiles you do when you’re pretending to be okay. I mean a real one.”

You hesitated for a moment before taking her hand, letting her pull you to your feet. “What did you have in mind?”

She grinned, her excitement infectious. “Oh, you’ll see. But fair warning: it might involve paint, glitter, and me being an absolute menace.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you laughed. A small, genuine sound that made Jinx’s chest swell with pride. “There’s my sis,” she said, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “Come on. Let’s go make a mess.”

taglist. @writingwisterias @ekkosh @inguuuuu @themostlesbianever

[natalievoncatte]

It began with a sneeze.

Lena’s entire body tensed, pain wracking her sinuses, and she tried to tamp it down and swallow it. There was a room full of investors, and she paused mid-presentation. She held up a protesting hand, signaling that she needed no help, and waved off her assistants. Finally the feeling subsided and she soldiered on, accidentally repeating part of the presentation. It didn’t matter, it was just a formality.

After, she was sitting alone in her office and she did sneeze this time, hard, into a silk handkerchief. A dull ache had settled into her bones and she felt droopy, tired. Still, she had work to do. Not the work she wanted to do. Not running the company, not strategizing. Not inventing or innovating. It was menial. It was assigned. She worked for her brother.

It was his pretty revenge, because Lena shot him two times in the chest. Then a bunch of very strange shit happened and Lena suddenly found herself in an entirely different world where Lex had never died, even though they both remembered it. A hellish nightmare world where Lillian was a philanthropist and Kara and all her friends worked more or less for Lex, keeping aliens in check.

Lena couldn’t go to her best friend for help, because her best friend had betrayed her. Lena almost wished she’d been erased when the multiverse collapsed, replaced by a copy of herself who’d never felt this agony.

There was a truth she would never admit, even to herself.

She’d feel better if Kara was here.

The days dragged on and so did her cold. Except, it wasn’t a cold. On the third day she woke to a high fever, feeling a little wobbly when she forced herself out of bed. Her sinuses burned and she had to breathe through her mouth. When she took her temperature, it was elevated, close to being dangerous. Every muscle and joint on her body ached and the sight of food made her retch involuntarily.

Lena had the goddamn flu.

She did something she’d never done: by a curt email, she informed her staff that she was ill and would not be in the office today. Instead, she rummaged through her closet, her breath catching on a familiar sweatshirt.

It was a Midvale High School Mathletes sweater. It was Kara’s, but Lena knew with a certainty that Kara had not been in Lena’s penthouse since It Happened. There was no way for this to get here but…

She stifled a sob. This world had its own Lena, one whose life she’d appropriated or merged with or God knows what, and that Lena Kara’s clothes in her home. Lena kept stumbling across them and it hurt more every time.

Had they been happy, before? Kara must have spent the night. They must have been close. Lena had been close with her Kara; they hung out and Kara had slept over a few times but they weren’t really on your-clothes-in-my-closet terms. Had that been what happened here? Did they share the bed? Were they…

Did they…

Lena put it on, felt it shelter her body. She put in two pairs of leggings and hoped her laptop would warm her. She curled with it on the couch, and got exactly nothing done. After three hours she closed the computer and flipped channels until she found the old friend of the seriously ill and the chronically unemployed: reruns.

Curling on one end of the couch, she laid her head to rest on the arm and her eyes slid closed.

It seemed that as soon as she did, she opened them again. Her head was throbbing. She tried to push herself up, but it was too great an effort and she flopped down again. Her throat was dry and sticky, and unable to breathe through her nose, air came in reedy wheezes. Swallowing only made it worse, and she felt a rising panic.

Something beyond sleep, thick and heavy, was dragging her down, even as she struggled.

A chill night breeze rolled over her, and she shivered explosively.

"Easy now. I've got you."

Powerful arms lifted her limp body and carried her. Gently, Lena was laid on her bed and a blanket thrown over her.

She opened her eyes. Kara sat her up, cradling her in one arm as she held a glass in another, so Lena could drink. She let the cool water wet her throat and did her best to breathe again. Gently, Kara lowered her back down to rest and folded a cool, damp cloth on her forehead. Lena sighed in relief.

“Get out. Don’t want you here.”

“I’m sorry,” Kara whispered. “I can’t leave you alone like this. I’ll be right back.”

She was indeed right back, Supergirl walking into Lena’s budoir carrying a drug store bag full of medicine. She sat Lena up again and administered the foul tasting stuff over Lena’s protests, then shut off the lights.

Lena tried to roll on her side. It didn’t go well.

Kara knelt and slipped out of her boots. Then, she undid one side, then the other, and unclasped her cape from her shoulders. She then swept it over Lena and tucked it around her gently.

“Kara,” Lena muttered.

“Hush. It’s a blanket. It’ll keep you warm.”

Lena wasn’t sure what happened next, if she dreamed it or if it was real, but she felt the bed shift as Kara climbed aboard and laid down beside her.

Eventually, she woke up again. Kara was tucked against her back, one arm thrown protectively over Lena’s side, resting on her blanket cocoon. Kara snored lightly, lying on the bed so that her chin rested on the crown of Lena’s head.

Kara noticed she’d stirred and silently stood, offering Lena her next dose of syrupy, nasty medicine. She accepted it just as silently and laid back down to sleep.

The cycle continued. Day came. Kara didn’t leave her. She drew the curtains and laid on the bed beside Lena, never speaking, never making any demands.

Finally Lena was well enough to roll over and face her.

“Why are you here?”

“I heard Gillian’s Island coming from your living room and thought you must be in danger.”

Lena snorted in spite of herself.

Kara softened. Her big blue eyes, eyes that could launch a thousand ships, carried such a weight of sorrow that Lena felt a surge of pain and regret in her heart, wondering why in the hell they were feuding. No. She couldn’t do that. She couldn’t just…

“I’m sorry.”

Lena tucked herself into the blankets. She wanted to roll over, to turn away, to stop this before she did something she would regret later.

“I keep finding your things in my place,” Kara murmured. “It makes me wonder if it was different here. If we were different. What if I’d made other choices. If I’d been honest with you. Bolder.”

“You weren’t,” said Lena. “You aren’t. That’s the way it is. That door was closed.”

“When I landed on your balcony, it was open.”

“A mistake I won’t repeat. Careless. Thank you for helping me, but I didn’t need it. I don’t need you.”

Kara closed her eyes and sighed.

“I hate doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“You’re lying.”

Lena jerked back, as much as her aching body would allow, anyway.

“How do you know?”

It didn’t hit Lena that she hadn’t offered a denial, at least not until later.

“Easy,” Kara smiled. “I cheat. Skin conductivity and moisture levels. Heat bloom on your skin. Pulse. Pupil dilation. Breathing patterns.”

“I have the flu. That’s why.”

Kara frowned.

“You’re wearing my sweater.”

“It’s not yours. It’s hers. The lives we stole.”

Kara shook her head. “That’s not what he did. Your brother created this world to live out his fantasies and make me suffer. That’s why your things are at my place and mine at yours. It’s showing us the life we should have had,” a tear shone on Kara’s cheek, “had I not been a fuckup and a coward. If I’d trusted you.”

Lena choked back a small sob, and started to cough violently.

Without a word, Kara gathered her up and rested Lena’s head on her shoulder, walling her up in those beefy, protective arms of hers. Lena allowed it, curling her fingers against the twitching muscles of Kara’s back.

Lena wanted to pull away…

No. That was a lie, a miserable fucking lie. She didn’t want to pull back. She didn’t want to fight. She thought she had to, that she needed to.

“Don’t cry,” Kara said, tenderly brushing a tear from Lena’s cheek. “I know you’re furious with me. I know things are bad. I know your brother has power over us. It’ll get better. I won’t let him hurt you. I won’t let anyone hurt you. I promise.”

“You already hurt me.”

“I know,” Kara whimpered, her voice wobbling. “I’m sorry, Lena. I’ve never been more sorry about anything in my entire life. I wake up every day praying I can find some way to take it back."

"You can't."

Kara tensed.

"Maybe you don't have to," said Lena.

Kara's breath caught. She lowered Lena to the bed, and this time wrapped them in the blankets together. She was so warm.

"I've got you."

Blessedly, Lena slept.

Each time she woke, she felt better. Eventually, she was well enough for Kara to leave the bed. A few minutes later, Kara came back, and she brought breakfast. Her appetite back, Lena dug in, enjoying the tea Kara brought.

Kara took the tray and plates when she was done.

"You look a lot better."

Lena nodded. "Ah, yes, thank you."

Silence. There was a heavy pause, and then Kara sat down beside her on the bed.

"I wish I'd been brave before."

Lena looked at her, really looked at her, this enchanting vision looking at Lena like she hung all the stars in the sky, her eyes so full of longing that Lena felt she might fall into them forever.

"What would you do if you were brave?"

"This."

Warm fingers curled around Lena's chin. Kara leaned in, and Lena felt it happen even before their lips touched. When they did, it was electric. Lena felt the world spinning. Kara caught her and lowered her to the bed.

"I don't care about multiverses and cosmic entities and your evil brother. No matter what they throw at me, I will always find my way back to you. If you want me."

Lena pulled her down into another kiss, and that was her answer.

[authorhjk1]

Oh fuck can we expect a part 2 for Haewon where she gets absolutely destroyed?

Blue icing

(Haewon X Male Reader)

You expected her to take a break. At least five minutes. Even one minute would've been enough.

Instead, she goes straight for your cock again.

You just came in her mare moments ago. Some of your jizz is still occasionally coming out of her nostrils in tiny globes. You pretty much destroyed her innocent face a minute ago, making her shed tear after tear. Making her gag as your cock bruises her throat.

Haewon is now staring up at you. Her big eyes coaxing you into becoming hard again. Her tear and cum stained face still looks oddly innocent. What else do you have to do to make a complete mess out of her?

A similar thought seems to linger in Haewon's mind as well.

"Where do you want to take me?"

The idea alone makes your cock twitch.

You ponder for a moment, looking around her apartment. Something in her kitchen catches your attention, but that's for later. Still trying to recover from the tiring face fuck, you nod towards her armchair that's standing in the corner of the living room.

"Ride me."

A mischievous smirk crosses her otherwise innocent face.

One second later, you find yourself sitting in the chair, Haewon hovering above you. She hikes up her skirt, revealing a pink thong underneath. It's actually purple by now. Her juices have drenched the light fabric, darkening it.

"Did you get this wet because I fucked your face?"

You give her a triumphant grin. Haewon frowns in anger.

"I'm wet because your cock is big. Not you. I still hate you."

She tries to sound tough, but you see her nervously glancing at your lap. Her pussy is only a few inches away from getting filled. During your hook up, she thought it wouldn't fit inside her. And you honestly can't even remember if she was able to handle it all.

"Maybe you aren't even tight. I'm just big enough to stretch you out anyway."

Haewon sticks out her tongue. But with her skirt around her waist, hovering above your cock, it makes her look sexy rather than rebellious.

"You wish. I'm the tightest you've ever had."

The young woman proves herself immediately after.

"Fuck."

Both of you groan in union as Haewon slowly takes in your tip. Your head rests against the back rest, but you force yourself to watch.

"Not b-bad, huh?"

Haewon tries to smile, but her pleasure twisted face makes her look like she just had a heart attack. Her lips are tightly pressed together.

"Not bad at all."

You have to admit it. She really is the tightest. But there is no use in telling her now. You don't want to see that satisfaction on her face.

"W-Wait."

Haewon has half your cock inside her pussy. Your hands hold her waist, slowly pulling her down. But when she hisses in pain, you stop your movements.

"I don't think I can take it all."

"Didn't you brag about having the best pussy I've ever been in?"

She shakes her head. Haewon takes heavy breaths, trying to get accustomed to your size.

"T-The tightest."

"Just admit my cock is too big for you."

She shakes her head again.

"Keep going."

You pull her a little further down.

"Stop."

A small whimper escapes her mouth.

"Is this enough now? I've proven I'm tight."

It's your time to shake your head.

"I can't get off like this, Haewon. You either take it all, or we are done here."

You look up at her, seeing how her eyes are shut tight. You don't care if you just lied. Your anger still isn't completely gone yet. You want to see her suffer a little.

"This is never gonna fit though!"

"Okay then."

You attempt to lift her off of you.

A long and loud moan escapes Haewon's mouth as she feels your cock drag along the walls of her tight cavern.

"W-Wait."

Only your tip is inside of her now. You feel her tremble.

"Let me try again. At my own pace."

"Are you being competitive? Or is your inner slut showing, Haewon?"

Her eyes glare at you. The fire threatening to burn you.

"I'm no slut. Even if I were, you would be responsible."

"I'm saying this one last time. It takes two to tango, Haewon. You are a slut. And you know it."

The petite girl on top for your raises her hand. You almost expect her to slap your cheek. Instead, she glances a little lower. In disbelieve, you feel her hand wrap around your throat. And, since her hand is too small, she uses the other one as well.

"No! You are at fault. You seduced me."

You know she can't hurt you. Her delicate fingers barely even manage to make you cough.

"I didn't do shit, Haewon."

By now, you realize that she is halfway down your cock again. Her snug walls threaten to strangle you too.

"Then who asked me to go to his hotel room?"

"Are you kidding me?"

Your hands on her waist encourage Haewon to start bouncing. Not fast or hard. But still incredibly well. As if she had done that her whole life.

"Do you remember what you said at the party?"

"What? Huh?"

Her face is right in front of yours, her eyes throwing daggers at you.

"Make me drunk and put a baby in my virgin pussy."

"I did not!"

You feel Haewon tighten around your cock.

"Yes, you did. You pleaded for it. Begged."

"Fuck you!"

She rides you at a faster pace now. Her hands around your throat squeeze you harder as her pussy does the same with your dick.

"You didn't want to be a virgin anymore. You wanted to feel like a whore."

"You are lying!"

This time, she does slap you. Not hard enough to hurt you. But probably leaving a red mark.

"I'm not, Haewon!"

Your turn to reach for her throat. There is no need for a second hand. Yours wraps around her perfectly. Her wide eyes glare at you, daring you to choke her.

"You want me to repeat all the dirty stuff you said!?"

"Fuck you! You are lying!"

Despite her yelling, her voice seems to tremble a little.

You are still halfway inside her snug pussy, trying your best to hold it in. How long can you resist?

"You said you don't remember!"

"I don't remember what we did. Only images. But I do know exactly what happened right before we went to the hotel."

"Liar!"

Haewon's hands are now in your hair, forcing your head back. It exposes your neck. A perfect spot for her to kiss your skin between shouts.

"If you're gonna call me a liar one more time, I'm gonna destroy your pussy Haewon."

You glare at her, her half open eyes now struggling to focus on you.

"Liar! Liar! Liar!"

Everytime she says that word, she tugs at your hair. And she keeps bouncing, slowly taking more and more of you inside.

"I warned you, slut."

"I'm not a slut, asshole!"

You've had enough of the name calling.

Grabbing her waist once more, you lift Haewon off your lap. She moans and whines as your cock stretches her walls one last time, before she feels completely empty.

"What are you doing?"

She mewls as she has to lets go off your hair.

You stand up, Haewon in your arms. Since you aren't inside of her, your cock rests against her pussy and midriff. Haewon looks down with big eyes, imagining how deep you could go.

"As promised, I'm gonna ruin you now."

You reach her kitchen, putting her down on her feet. Before Haewon can ask another question, you spin her around, bending her over the counter. She is now face to face with the thing she baked a couple of hours ago. Your ex girlfriend's birthday cake. If she stuck out her tongue, Haewon could probably lick up some of the blue icing.

"Wait. Go slow, I-"

It seems like it dawned on her what you are about to do.

"You asked for this."

Without giving Haewon time to reply or to prepare, you push inside of her again.

"Oh god!"

She moans, her head lies on the cold surface. You are already halfway inside, feeling her snug walls around you.

Haewon starts to squirm, when you start to push deeper. You part her walls further and further invading her pussy more and more.

"It's so deep."

She sighs, unable to stop you. Even Haewon herself can't really tell if this is pain or pleasure she is feeling.

You reach forward to grab a fistful of her black hair, unsatisfied with the amount of moans she is producing. A deep growl seems to escape her lips as you pull her head up. You see Haewon's back arch.

The position feels somehow familiar. Even the feeling of being almost completely inside of her seems natural. Are your memories from that night coming back?

"H-How are you so deep?"

Her cute whine motivates you to push further.

"Oh god!"

Another loud moan echoes through her apartment.

"You were right, Haewon. Your pussy really is the tightest."

It feels like she can't even hear you. Her body threatens to collapse, despite the fact that you are firmly holding onto her waist and her hair.

"But that still doesn't proof that you are innocent. You are still a slut."

A whimper escapes the girl's mouth. You can't tell if it's a protest or a reaction to you, pushing deeper.

After what feels like an eternity, you finally come to halt. Your still not completely inside of Haewon. You have to admit that you can't go deeper. At least not now. Her pussy I too tight.

You leave her snug cavern slowly, before pushing back in. The motion makes Haewon's body rock back and forth. Her nails scratch on the stone surface, trying to hold onto something.

"You are... You are so... So big."

It takes her a while to form a proper sentence as you start to actually fuck her. Slow and deep at first. But you gradually speed up and become more powerful with your thrusts.

Now, Haewon can't even string words together to make a sentence. Meaningless sounds escape her mouth, everytime you push into her. Her walls feel like they are stretched beyond repair. And with every thrust, you threaten to bruise her organs.

Usually, you would be fine with slow but forceful thrusts. But this isn't normal. You are still trying to take out your anger on Haewon's body. And the cake in front of her starts to fuel that fire inside of you even more. You can read your girlfriend's name as you fuck her best friend as deep as you possibly can.

"Fuck, Haewon. You are a stupid whore for telling her what happened. Why did you have to ruin this?"

You don't expect an answer. Because she is unable to talk. A small puddle of her drool is staining the counter.

"Did you do this, so you can fuck me again? Is that what it is?"

Your grip on her hair becomes stronger. You use your other hand to slap her ass, making her cheeks jiggle.

"P-Please."

You don't know if that's a yes, or if she is just asking you to fuck her harder.

The sight of Haewon like this and her tight pussy slowly drive you towards your orgasm. You know you don't have much time left. You keep fucking her from behind, pulling her hair. You still need to ruin that innocent face. It would be a shame if you wouldn't. Eying that cake again, you feel your blood boiling once again. You just wanna...

You go deeper into Haewon than ever before, almost bottoming out inside of her.

"Fuck!"

She almost screams as you push her forward. She is now leaning over the table, her feet dangling right above the floor. Her face is now right above the cake.

Instead of pulling on her hair, you suddenly grab the back of her head and push down. Haewon's moans and yelps are suddenly muffled by the cake. You bury her face in it, covering it in blue icing.

"Whore."

You growl into her ear as you chase your orgasm, satisfied with ruining her work. And her face.

Your thrusts make her body move and with that, her head as well. You press her down into the cake, which is turning into a mountain of crumbs.

Seeing her like this finally makes your climax. You pull out, which almost feels like an impossible task, before you start to shoot your cum all over her ass and back. It stains her skin, mixing with the build up sweat on it.

Haewon's face must be a complete mess. Some of the blue icing got into her hair.

You admire your work. A completely messed up Haewon. On the inside and on the outside. Her face completely ruined by the cake, her ass and back full with cum. Her pussy almost looks like it's gaping as if she is asking for more.

Haewon feels like the biggest slut in the world. Used and dirty like a fuck toy. Is that why she tried to end your relationship?

[knavesflames]

Write it.

Heheh I wrote it!! I’m not sure if it’s any good or not because I’ve never written like this before (OR posted it, look at me being bold) so I apologise if it’s no good😔😔

Anyway!! Fem Virgin!reader x corruption!arlecchino

Contents: throat fucking, praise, tears (good ones), arlecchino has a dick because why not, virgin reader

Word count: 1118

NSFW below!!

A small hum in your ear sends shivers down your spine before she even touches you. Your shiver only earns a low, throaty chuckle from the woman behind you, her breath on your neck.

“What’s wrong, doll? Are you nervous?”

You don’t even have to answer, because your body language speaks for you. Her voice sounds again, husky as she holds back a devilish smile, her hands finding the hem of your shirt.

“Take this off, hm? You look so much prettier when you don’t hide yourself away.”

Your clothes drop to the floor with the softest of thuds, leaving you bare. Her eyes roam you hungrily— look at you, standing so innocently with not the slightest clue she’s about to ruin you. For the better, of course.

She sinks you to your knees, her eyes staring into yours like you’ll disappear if she blinks.

“Come on, doll. Take my clothes off.”

She gestures to herself, your eyes immediately catching the bulge twitching in her pants, caused by nothing more than your innocence, and the thought of being the first person to hear your pleasured groans. Your hands cautiously tug the fabric of her suit pants, letting them drop to her ankles.. and oh my, she isn’t wearing underwear. Her dick springs out, hitting her lower belly. You gulp, taking in the sheer size of her, just how is that going to fit inside of you? You can’t think another thought before the tip of her taps against your lips.

“It’s alright, dove. Open wide, I’ll guide you.”

With hesitation, your lips part, allowing her in. Immediately she groans, taking a sharp breath as her head tilts back.

“Fuck, that’s it.”

Her thumb strokes your cheek as you tentatively begin swirling your tongue around her tip, your eyes staring up at her, sparkling every time she lets loose a small groan. You’re doing so well! She’s trying her best to go slow, to be gentle, it’s your first time, after all, but her only thought is fucking your throat. Her hands card through your hair, weaving through the strands as she subtly finds her grip, just perfect to hold your head still. Your hum of surprise vibrates against her, and she loses it— her hips snap up. A little slow, easing you into it, but the second she feels your nose meet the small patch of white hair on her pelvis, the second she hears your small gag as she hits the back of your throat, she loses control. Her hands grip your hair harder, holding your head still while she fucks your throat, relishing in the sounds of your choking, the way your eyes fill with tears, in the way your hands frantically grip her thighs to keep yourself grounded. “Fuck, you’re a good girl. So good at letting me use your throat like this, good girl.”

Before she can finish, she releases your head, pulling out of your mouth with a wet pop and a gasp from you. Her thumb wipes the small trickle of spit from your chin as her other hand wraps around your waist, pulling you onto her lap. You bite your lip when her dick twitches against you, your hips moving downwards to meet her when you feel the tip of her dick hit your swollen, puffy clit. She groans once more, taking herself by the base of her cock and dragging the tip across your soaked slit.

“So fucking wet for me. Your first time, all I’ve done is fuck your throat and you’re this needy? I thought you said you were innocent. Seems like you are a dirty girl, just like I thought. Good girl.”

Both hands now on your waist, she pulls you onto her cock, watching your face and listening to your squeal as you sink down. It being your first time, you struggle. But she coos and whispers soft praises as she gently bounces you up and down until you sink down all the way. Her eyes widen with satisfaction when she sees you’ve taken all of her, not a centimetre of space between your pelvises. A grunt leaves her lips when your pussy flutters around her. Her hand roughly grips your chin, aggressive but somehow so full of love.

“You’re perfect. Let me guide you, let me show you. I can make you feel so good you won’t ever think of anything else again.”

With a small nod of your head, and a shaky breath out, you feel her bouncing you again. God, the way she slides in and out with such ease, your pussy practically sucking her in with every movement. You’re nervous, she can tell, but the small whimpers leaving your throat spur her on. She coos soft praises, letting you get used to her as you grip on to her shoulders like you’re losing your grip on reality— and she adores every second of it.

Your head tilts back as you let out a loud moan, and her hands are quick to tug on your hair and bring you back, facing her.

“Look at me. I want to watch you lose your mind. I want to watch you get drunk on my cock.”

You try to speak out a response, but your mindless babbles only make her impatient. She’s no longer bouncing you, but holding you still while her hips thrust up, fucking into you harder. Her hand reaches to wrap around your throat, squeezing gently, just enough for you to keep in your mind that you’re hers, your virginity is hers, everything about you is hers. You whimper out a “more”, and her only response is a breathless chuckle. You’re utterly gone, your only thoughts of how she’s stuffing you full with her cock and how good it feels.

“Not so innocent now, hm? Good girl, my fucking good girl.”

You whisper words of agreement, tears filling your eyes and spilling down your cheeks as they roll back. Your nails dig into her so hard she feels her skin break, and.. there it is. The way your pussy clenches around her as you cum is so intoxicating, and she gives one final thrust before grunting, filling you up with her seed. Your head falls forward, leaning on her shoulder as she gives a few more gentle thrusts, stroking your hair. She can’t hide the wicked grin on her face at the fact she turned you from an innocent woman with no idea of sex into this blabbering, orgasming mess, begging for more. One messy swipe of her thumb over your clit leaves you bucking up against her, and she takes pleasure knowing you won’t ever stop thinking about her, and doesn’t she plan to use that to her advantage again and again.

[plscallmeeren]

D O M I N A N T D R U N K

Hermione Jean Granger x Reader

Request: yes

Summary: Hermione discovers a new side of herself when drunk (she and fem reader have been dating for a while now)

Warnings: Swearing; fingering, oral (f receiving), alcohol, drunk sex

Word Count: 1.7K+

Harry and Ron watched their best friend tip yet another fire whiskey down her throat. The sixth, to be exact. They nodded pitifully when she stumbled toward the cupboard to find another drink, exchanging worried glances.

"You realise she's a total lightweight," Ron whispered to Harry, brows furrowing as she tipped the golden liquid into her glass. "You reckon this is because of her potions exam?"

"Yeah, I guess. I don't know how to stop her." Hermione had spent the entire evening rambling on about how badly her potions final had been and that she would probably fail. (Harry and Ron highly doubted this, considering her worst marks were some of their best, but that wasn't a very favoured argument.)

"Hey, 'Mione," Ron called timidly, catching her attention after the second attempt. "You think that should be your last glass, maybe? Yeah? It's just a bit much for someone your size-"

"Shut up, Ronald," she interrupted, throwing her head back so that brown curls cascaded down her back. "It's not even midnight!"

"That's true," Harry joined in for the sake of solidarity, "but that doesn't have much to do with how sloshed you are-"

"Really, Harry. If you were drunk, too, you wouldn't care."

"Maybe we should go find (y/n), she could probably-"

"(Y/n)?" Hermione perked up. "Is she here?"

"No, but we could bring her-"

"She's so hot," Hermione drawled. Harry and Ron looked at each other in horror. "The way we shag... you have no idea. She can be really rough or really sweet..."

"What's protocol is situations like these?"

"I'm just hoping this situation will never happen again. It's a miracle Seamus and Dean haven't walked in yet-"

"Bloody hell!"

Hermione was struggling with the buttons of her shirt, but judging by murmurs of 'far too warm in here' the objective was to remove it.

"Okay, that's it. Keep your shirt on for a second and we'll take you to your girlfriend," Harry said firmly, but before he or Ron could stand up, she had rushed out the door and was giggling all the way down the stairs, almost crashing into the armchair near the archway.

"Bloody hell," Ron repeated.

"Oh, shut up."

You were sitting peacefully in the common room on the big couch by the fire, studying for herbology, when Hermione burst past Fred and George - mercifully, the only other two there - to sit down on your lap, careful notes be damned.

"Hello, love. What..." She pressed her lips to yours and you could have tasted the alcohol from her lips alone. "Since when do you drink more than one glass?"

"Since I'm stupid," she moaned, collapsing into you as her friends (and the twins) watched from afar. "I'm stupid and I'll fail and..."

"I don't know what draught you've been fed, but that's not true. I'll give you evidence of it in the morning - even if it takes a visit to every professor. Okay?"

"Okay," she mumbled, and you noticed she was doing kitten licks against the side of your neck. "I need you to fuck me."

You hesitated only a second, catching Harry's eye and nodding for them to leave. They scurried away gratefully. "I can't to that, love. You're drunk."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"So... you don't think I'm hot?" She undid another button or two teasingly until you nodded, laughing.

"Very."

"Then take me to your room."

"I have roommates."

"Then let's go to the prefects' bathroom."

You stared at her for a moment before giving in. Maybe if you gave her such a hard time asking exactly what she wanted, she would give up. You closed her shirt again with nimble fingers, making Hermione groan while Fred and George smirked from the opposite end of the room.

She dragged you by the hand, which led to you half-holding her upright when the lull of her steps overwhelmed her enthusiasm, until you finally reached the bathroom. Fortunately, Hermione could still remember the password in her drunken state. She locked the door behind you.

"What now?" you asked softly, resting your hands on her love handles. She crooned, humming as she considered.

It was strange seeing her this way - even when she was entirely distracted from reality, even when you were fucking her raw, she always had some form of composure. Not like now, where she mumbled every thought that came to her and slumped against your body for support.

"Fuck me. Please."

"I don't know. Too vague. Tell me exactly what to do."

She pondered this for a moment. "So... I'm in control?"

"Yes, I suppose. I'll do every little thing you ask. How does that sound?"

Hermione grinned. "Take off my shirt."

"Whatever you desire," you smiled, working the buttons in quick succession before pulling off the white clothing. She leaned into you, pressing the lace of her bra against your own t-shirt.

"Undress."

You pulled off the band tee and old sweats nonchalantly, followed by your boxers. Hermione ran her hands over your skin in wonder, as if it were the first time she could touch the planes of your body.

"My skirt. And stockings."

"What about them?"

"Get rid of them. And my bra. Take it all away."

"Yes, ma'am."

You unzipped her skirt, sliding it down her legs with the adjacent stockings and pulling them away from her feet one by one. The clasp behind her bra was easy, and you tried not to stare at her breasts like a child at a toy. Her nipples were perked, though, and some stretch lines reached from under each one, showing you that she had grown larger.

"You forgot my panties."

"You didn't ask."

In her impatience, she pulled them off herself, but from then on she didn't forget any details. "Kneel in front of me," she ordered, backing against a wall.

"Yes, ma'am," you smirked. Morally, you should have stopped there - earlier, even - but it was impossible. Not when you were now at eye level with her pussy, thighs sticky with juices.

"Put your tongue on my clit and move it in vertical ellipses." You obeyed, laughing against her at the absurd smarts in her language. She moaned loudly, bucking her hips into your face as her fingers scraped the walls for hold.

"Faster," she commanded, though she was getting dizzy from the stimulation. "Faster, faster, more."

You couldn't help yourself, digging your fingers into the soft flesh of her ass, just like she had told you to in the past. She was so soft - unbearably so - and your hands slipped down to her thighs, gripping them to keep her steady.

She mewled as her hips rolled over your face harshly. "Go on," she groaned when you pulled away a moment for air. You lay your tongue flat on her pussy before resuming, teasing her.

Hermione whined, spasming. It took you a moment to realise that she had already come, and that she couldn't stand during the sensation.

You fell back against the cold tile, letting her slide along your body until she sat almost on your chest. "Have you ever come that fast? I didn't know people could come that fast."

"Neither did I," Hermione admitted shyly. You were about to suggest sitting up, but to your amazement she was moving back and forth over your torso, legs spread. She was humping you.

"Hermione," you managed, watching in near fascination as she continued, head thrown back as moans and whines fell from her lips, a symphony of pornographic sounds. "Your cunt is still swollen from..."

"I know. Be quiet." You didn't find it in you to deny her, so you just watched. She was getting louder and louder. If you hadn't known better, you would have guessed she was in pain.

"Fuck, 'Mione," you groaned, back arching intuitively to get further inside her. "You're doing things to me."

But she didn't answer, lost in her own world. You were tempted to... "Can I touch myself?"

She nodded - or so you hoped - because the second you reached for yourself, both of you were making enough noise to drain out the slick squelching of her against your skin.

"Fingers," Hermione panted, placing a hand over your mouth, "put three inside of me."

"Three?" you asked, crazed. "You've got the tightest cunt-"

"Just do it," she said certainly, hand securing itself around your throat. "I command it."

Lightheaded from lack of air, you pulled your hand from yourself to her pussy, offering. She reluctantly rolled off you, splayed out on the white floor, waiting.

You took a deep breath, then plunged three fingers into her folds.

She screamed - or something like it - but before you could pull out she grabbed your wrist, pushing you inside again, as far as it would go.

"Again, again, again."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you chanted, forcing your digits into her even though her vagina rejected them and she wailed.

"Faster."

You could feel the sweat tumbling down your back from the effort, but you sped in and out of her cunt with brute force. You spared a glance at her and almost came; she was spread across the tile floor, thighs completely wet, body shaking, convulsing in attempts to get you further in.

"Come. Come with me," she squealed, so narrow around your fingers you couldn't enter. Your thumb took over; rushed circles clumsily drawn over her clit. Her hands groped you until they found your shoulders, fingernails digging into your back painfully. Her eyes rolled backc head lifting.

"Fuck!"

She came, and a moment later so did you. You collapsed next to her, chest rising and falling quickly.

"One more round," she panted. Had you misheard? You suddenly remembered she was still intoxicated.

"You're a dominant drunk," you mused. "Who would have thought."

"Now," she ordered.

"'Mione, I don't know if-"

"Do as I say," she insisted, sounding almost bratty but definitely enjoying the control.

"Yes, ma'am," you panted, sitting up.

"Do you know that spell for your wand? You know the one."

"Yeah, I do."

[rottin6]

mdni. 18+ | bartylily. cw: gun kink.

in lily’s defence, she did just start dating him so how was she supposed to know the rules? barging into her boyfriend’s room wasn’t the best idea, but the best lessons, as she knows, are learned from experience. barty’s sitting there when she walks in, lazily sprawled out on his bed, his chest bare with drops of sweat. he stares at her expectantly.

her focus is stuck on the gun, the silver barrel of it resting against the crease of his hip like it was anything but. “your parents never teach you how to knock?” he’s pissed off at her, but lily doesn’t care. she opens her mouth to speak, then closes—then opens again to mumble an incoherent apology, before moving to back out of the room. it’s then that barty lifts his left hand, the one holding the weapon and lily stops in her tracks, fear clouding her mind.

his eyes narrow at her, his back up against the headboard. he motions the gun as if he were waving her to move forward, “come here.” lily moves, hesitantly of course. she knows he wouldn’t hurt her—or she thinks so at least, and yet, she becomes weary of him. she crawls onto the bed, slowly, sitting in between his legs, and she can’t help the gasp that releases when he moves the gun against her cheek, gently forcing her to look at him.

“i asked you a question, doll.” he murmurs, tapping the barrel against her cheek, and instinctively, a heat begins to form in the pit of her stomach.

lily’s voice is pathetically small—meek when she speaks. “yes—no, i’m sorry, barty. was just excited to see you.” his jaw’s clenched as he hums, dragging the tip of the gun along her jaw sideways, stopping when he reaches her chin. lily’s surprised at herself, at her breathing for staying scarily even as she holds eye contact with him.

he continues to study her, looking for any sign of fear. he keeps his brows crossed, “you missed me?” he says, his voice low, lips barely moving. there’s a fondness in his eyes that calms lily, and suddenly the gun held to the bottom of her chin is the least of her worries. she nods carefully, an animalistic urge to rub her thighs against one another.

“mm-hm.”

there’s a beat of silence and then the corners of his lips twitch, “good.” barty’s eyes fall to her lips, all bitten and chapped from her habits. then, he inhales, “you’re pretty.” and all lily can choke out is a thank you. she doesn’t know why she’s so tense—on edge, but the compliment sends shivers right down to her toes. then, before she even knows what’s happening, barty’s pressing the gun against her lips, tapping it lightly and his eyes wide, full of expectation.

it comes out as a harsh breath when he speaks: “open.” and lily can’t help but gape at him, coming to the realisation that he’s gone and finally lost his mind. but the look on his face is a completely serious one, and he tries to force the barrel past her teeth. his right hand pulls on her hip, rubbing slow, comforting circles on the skin as he mumbles more, “c’mon baby, give me more.”

the gun’s cold against her teeth, the metal reminding her of the piercing on his tongue, and when it slips past her lips and onto her tongue, lily lets out a moan, one she had no idea was building up in the back of her throat.

she takes the gun in her mouth and barty’s sick when he’s watching her, his mouth curling upwards. “good. good girl. show the gun how much you missed me, and maybe i’ll let you show my cock, instead.” usually lily would jump at the opportunity but she really couldn’t care less. she doesn’t care if she doesn’t get to suck him off, because the feeling of the gun sliding in and out, slowly, from his guidance, is enough to satisfy her. barty coos and praises her as her eyes roll further back into her head the more he speeds up, his hard cock throbbing against her thigh.

barty’s impatient though, and though lily could sit there forever, he wastes no time in pulling out, manhandling her face down into his bedsheets and positioning his cock into her dripping hole. “fuck,” he says, “you got this wet from a little bit of sucking?” he pants, heavy from the way her sticky walls cling onto his length. he’s violent with it, unforgiving when he rams into her, and lily makes the mistake of trying to push him back away from her—to slow him down.

lily feels the coolness of the gun barrel press against the back of her head, and a soft click follows after.

“you fuckin’ try that again and see where it gets you.”

for @sommerregenjuniluft always x

[upat4amwiththemoon]

so i checked out your guidelines and you said that you like plot to be included too so i hope this isn't too much for you.

R is 11 here if that's okay with you.

can i ask you to write an avengers x teen!reader where tony adopts a kid from foster care and the team is trying to get her to open up but she locks herself in her room because she's used to moving from home to home or being abused in the system so she's scared to do anything normal like interact and stuff like that. when they showed her room on the first day she was hesitant to go in bc she's used to poor treatment. Wanda and Nat are the first ones to notice her behavior and they point it out to the rest of the team. they come up with a plan to help her but it only pushes her further away from them bc she isn't used to that much attention. they decide that when she's ready she'll come to them so one game night she tip toes downstairs and peaks in the living room to see them having a good time. wanda or vision senses her energy and she tries to silently sneak back but they invite her in and she reluctantly joins them. she isn't too familiar with the games they're playing so they teach her then afterwards they watch a bunch of movies and they're glad they can give her the family she never had.

Family

Summary: Sometimes it takes a while to find your true family.

Pairing: Avengers x teen!reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 1116

a/n: This is not too much at all! Thank you for the request :) (I’m sorry this is terrible)

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore

Walking into an entirely new surroundings is always anxiety inducing, but it’s especially scary when the people leading you to your so called new room are the world’s mightiest heroes.

There’s two men and two women in front of her, she knows who they are, of course, but she isn’t going to bring it up. Surely they have already sensed it.

One of the men, Iron Man, or Tony, as he told her to call him, is talking constantly. His hands are moving up and down, side to side as he gestures to different rooms and what’s in them. He is walking right in front of her, creating a sort of barrier between them. Wanda on the other hand, is walking next to her, occasionally glancing down at her.

Y/N keeps her eyes on Tony’s back. She doesn’t want to look anyone in the eyes or seem too fearful by mapping out the place.

“And this here,” Tony stops walking and opens a door, “is your room.” He turns to look at her with a big grin.

Not moving, Y/N stares inside the room. The four of them keep looking at her, waiting to see her reaction, but they get none.

Tony clears her throat. “You can go in, kid.” With small steps, she goes into the room. “We know it’s a bit empty, but you just tell me whatever you need and want, and I’ll buy it.”

She doesn’t need anything. It’s not like this room will be hers for long. It’s usual for her to stay in a home for a month at best. So, it’s better to not get attached to anything or anyone.

Wanda has a frown on her face as she watches Y/N set down her tiny bag. She’s worried of the girl, but puts those feelings on the side, this is a big change after all.

“Should we leave you to settle in?” Steve speaks up when the silence starts to drag on for a long time. “Someone could come get you when dinner is ready.”

With a nod from Y/N, the four of them close the door and leave her alone with her thoughts. With no one around, she lets out a deep breath and starts inspecting the room. It’s bigger than any other room she has had, and cleaner.

It’ll definitely be harder to leave this room behind when the time eventually comes.

After two very uneventful days, Natasha and Wanda have started talking with the other Avengers how Y/N doesn’t seem to get better, even though they’re giving her plenty of space. So, they decide to try another approach.

Wanda knocks on the door with a huge smile. Some of the other team members are behind her with boxes.

Opening the door only slightly, Y/N peeks through the gap. “Hi!” Wanda waves. “We got you something, if you could open the door a bit more?” Her voice is gentle and on the quieter side.

Y/N opens the door properly. Her eyes widen when she noticed the others and all the boxes waiting there. “We bought you some furniture and decorations.” Natasha brings one of the boxes in the room. “Obviously, we don’t know for sure what you like, but I think we got some good stuff.”

She stays frozen on her spot, out of the way, staring at the others walking in and out of the room. There are so many of them at the same time. Y/N doesn’t understand what they’re doing. Is this a test?

In fear of being punish for a wrong reaction, she decides to not react at all. Her hands are shaking behind her back, but she doesn’t let them see her fear. She just stares at them with a stoic expression.

“What do you think?” Wanda asks once the things are set. “You can obviously change things around if they aren’t to your liking, but this is a good start, yeah?” When Y/N just nods mutely, Wanda’s smile falls.

A silence falls over the room. Very uncomfortable and heavy silence. “Well,” Natasha clears her throat. “We’ll let you be.”

When the door closes, Wanda and Natasha glance at each other. “That didn’t work out the way I wanted.” Wanda mumbles. “I really thought that’d help her get out of her shell.”

“Maybe we just need to let her be.”

She huffs. “I know, it’s just so difficult when I can basically hear her worries.”

“It’ll happen, lets just do it on her terms.”

A week goes by where it almost seems like Y/N pulled into her shell even more. She wouldn’t speak to anyone, or even want to physically be in the same room as someone else. One of the team members always had to go knock on her door and leave a plate of food in front of it, so she would eat.

Most of the team got back into their regular routines, though their worry stayed the same, but they couldn’t stand outside her door forever. Wanda and Natasha would talk to her through the door at times, even if the conversation was fully one sided.

Today, the Avengers decided to spend the evening playing different board games. It’s not unusual for them, as they like to do bonding activities together.

Tony knocked on Y/N’s door to ask her to join them, but only got a small head shake as an answer. However, after an hour and a half, Y/N opens the door carefully.

She sneaks towards the living room, being cautious not to make any noise. Stopping right before the room, she peaks in. All the team members are laughing and shouting together.

Y/N takes deep breaths to calm herself down, these kind of situations still make her incredibly nervous. Suddenly, Wanda turns to look at her.

Her eyes turn wide and she is just about to turn away to go back to her room’s safety, but Wanda speaks up before she can. “Hey, sweetheart. Do you want to join us?” Now some of the others turn to look at her.

With hesitance, Y/N starts walking towards them. They’re surprised by this, but try their best not to show it. “We’re playing Monopoly. You ever played it?” Tony asks as Y/N sits between Wanda and Natasha.

“No.”

“That’s alright, we’ll teach you.” Wanda smiles, putting one more pawn to the board.

Y/N stays quiet for quite some time during the game night, but when the evening goes on, she starts initiating conversation more and even leans on Wanda’s side at times.

Maybe this family is different after all, it certainly isn’t ordinary.

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

They don’t talk much most nights. Billy will heat something up from the freezer or, on occasion, he’ll actually cook on the stove.

Max likes frozen dinner nights more because her brother doesn’t get mad if she doesn’t clean her plate. He won’t sit there and stare at her with his eyebrows raised expectantly until she reluctantly takes another bite.

Regardless of the food they’re having, he’ll ask the customary how was your day questions when he picks her up from school. He helps her with her homework, runs through times tables with her until she’s sick of seeing numbers, and he always pours over her report card when it gets sent out.

From what Max gathers from her friends at school, Billy does more than some of their parents do for them. Always signing permission slips without looking at them, letting them walk home by themselves.

Max walked home with her friend once and Billy screamed at her when he found her. She screamed back, and they didn’t have dinner that night, both closed up in their rooms.

At times, Max feels like a burden. Like when they go back-to-school shopping at the end of summer and Billy fusses about only buying supplies on rollback, and complains about the expenses at the register regardless. Makes her keep her hand on the side of the basket the entire time they’re at the store, as if she’s just dying to run away and get yelled at more.

She supposes that Billy cares, but only because he has to.

If he could be rid of her, he would.

She tries to bother him as little as possible. Tries to keep her place here secure because, after all, she has nowhere else to go. All she has left in the world is Billy.

So they don’t talk most nights.

One day in particular, when Max is striding up to the car with her backpack slung over one shoulder, she tries to be less noticeable than usual. Opens and closes the back passenger side door as softly as possible and shuffles her bag into the seat next to her, keeping her head down.

Billy glances at her over his shoulder before he puts the car in drive. Doesn’t ask about her day, which is a good sign that his was probably bad. Max takes a deep breath.

Figures that now is probably the best time, considering his disdain for arguing in the car.

“Do you remember my friend Megan?” she asks, voice small.

Billy reaches out to turn the stereo down a few notches, brows pinching together in thought.

“Lil’ redhead with the braces? Yeah.”

Max nods. Holds onto her seatbelt, almost wringing it in her hands.

“Yeah, her.”

“What about her?”

She can hear her heart thundering in her ears, which is silly, because the worst he can do is say no. She has to remind herself that she hasn’t done anything wrong before she swallows thickly and parts her lips to speak.

They’re barely out of the parking lot, fixing to turn onto the main street when Billy leans forward in his seat to check for oncoming traffic.

“Well,” Max begins, and clears her throat. “She’s having a sleepover this—“

Just as Billy pulls forward, a trucks races by out of nowhere, just barely kissing the front bumper. Max jerks forward in her seat from the abrupt stop, and then back again when Billy floors it.

His driving is usually mildly anxiety-inducing at best, depending on the day, but right now it’s just plain scary. Max grabs onto the door handle, eyes wide as she stares at her brother with his fists clenched tight around the wheel.

They make it to the truck at the next light, which is red, and Billy throws the car in park before he climbs out. In the middle of the street.

Max has never seen him so angry in her life, face red all the way down his neck, veins popping to the surface of his skin as he stalks over to the truck.

The driver mistakes his intent and rolls the window down, probably looking to hurl an insult or two, but Billy reaches in and unlocks the door. Hurls it open and drags the guy out of his seat by his shirt, stretching the seatbelt with him as he starts to dangle half upside-down.

Max rolls her window down, unable to tear her eyes away.

“Why the fuck are you driving in a school zone like that?” Billy growls. He keeps a fist tangled in the front of the guy’s shirt and draws his other back before landing a punch hard on his jaw. “I got my little sister in the car, you piece of shit, I would’ve killed you. Do you understand me?”

Before he can respond, Billy hits him again. Snaps his head back from the force, and blood trickles from his nose.

He gasps out, hands flailing to grab onto anything to keep himself upright, and shakes his head when Billy rears back again.

“Jesus, man, I’m sorry!”

Billy holds his glare for another beat before he clenches his jaw and shoves the guy at the ground, leaving him tangled and still semi-suspended by his seatbelt as he turns and walks back around the car.

When he slides into his seat, he’s breathing hard. Throws the car back into drive just as the light turns green and double checks before he goes, freshly paranoid and still on-edge.

Max watches the man stumble and try to push himself up as cars behind him honk, only rolling the window up once they’re far enough away that she can’t see him clearly anymore.

Billy’s skin is red and bloody around his knuckles, fist clenched around the wheel. After his breath starts to calm, and his hold loosens, he leans back more in his seat and sighs. Glances at Max in the rear view mirror.

“Y’okay?” he asks.

There’s a slight shake in his voice. Max’s heart drops.

“Yeah,” she says. “I’m okay.”

Billy nods. His eyes are glassy when he returns his attention to the road.

“Good. You, um…” he trails off, clearing his throat. “You said something about Megan having a sleepover?”

Max looks down at her lap, fiddling with her seatbelt again.

“I don’t have to go.”

“When is it?”

His voice is so gentle, it almost sounds hurt. Somehow it makes Max feel worse than she does when he yells.

“Saturday,” she says. “It’s okay, I don’t—“

“Hey, relax, I’m not mad at you, alright? I don’t care if you wanna go to a friend’s house this weekend.” He switches his hands on the steering wheel, clenching and unclenching his fingers before he rests his bloodied hand in his lap out of view. “Just let me know what time to drop you off.”

Max nods. She looks back up at Billy when he laughs.

“What?”

“I’m pretty sure that guy pissed his pants.”

She smiles and crinkles her nose.

“Gross.”

“I know.” Billy taps his fingers on the wheel. “Since the sleepover isn’t tonight… you wanna go get a burger or something?”

Max quirks a brow.

“But I have homework.”

“Screw homework, I’m starving.”

She giggles at that. Watches through the window as they pass their usual turnoff, feeling that regular pool of dread morph into something warm in the pit of her stomach.

[schrodingerscougar]

The Heartbreak Prince (Alex Keller x f!reader)

Note: Okay, Chad Michael Collins is 44, so if we say Alex is 35-45, and you read this like the reader is in her early 20s, there might be a small reference to what you might consider grooming if you squint. In my head, Alex is 35 and the reader is around 30, but who am I to tell you how old she is?

Be a good girl for me.

Alex always took it on himself to keep you in line when you were ready to do something stupid or reckless. He had been like that since you were a kid, although the way he warned you changed drastically as you grew older.

Your brother didn't notice, or rather didn't want to notice, but his best friend was always extremely flirty with you. He touched your body every chance he got, placed soft kisses on your head, or simply gave you a ride home after a night out and spent the whole trip trying to make you smile and laugh.

Tonight he said these words when an ex of his showed up in the bar where you were drinking with your friends. You had never understood what he liked about her, the stereotypical dumb blonde who always tried to sound smart, but usually ended up saying something stupid. Alex deserved better, you were sure of that, and you hoped he knew it too.

“I always see your friends here, but you're never with them,” she complained with a pout she probably expected to look cute on her.

It wasn't cute. At all. And from the look on Alex’s face, you could tell he thought the same. His blue eyes were focused on the woman in front of him, and you could see his jaw tighten as he considered what to say. Their relationship got a nasty end, with a certain incident that divided your little group.

He traveled a lot because of his job–whatever it truly was, he never told you–but that relationship ended because she kissed some random guy at a party. Molly said it was an accident, then the story changed and she tried to turn herself into the victim by saying she felt neglected.

“What can I do for you?” Alex asked her eventually, his voice perfectly neutral as if he was talking to a stranger.

You didn't look at them, instead you focused on the screen of your phone and only listened to the conversation. That was more than enough for you, the least you wanted was witnessing a car crash. Because you knew the girl would throw a fit, either blaming Alex again or begging him to take her back.

She didn't respond right away and you heard a gasp leave her lips. Normally you would've assumed she was thinking about what to say, but knowing her, you quickly dismissed the idea. As if. Biting the inside of your cheek to keep a smile from appearing on your face, you opened a messaging app and began to send Alex some memes.

His phone beeped in front of him and he took a quick look at the screen. Out of the corner of your eye you watched as he turned it upside down and placed it on the table with a smirk. Then you felt his foot bump into your leg, and soon he spread his legs wide enough to be able to press his thigh to yours.

“What are you doing?” you wrote him as if he would answer now.

But to your surprise he picked up his phone and typed a short response. “Watch this.”

So you did as you were told and turned your head to face him. The corner of Alex's mouth turned upwards before he reached out to take your hand, long fingers lacing with yours as if this had been a common occurrence. Your breath caught in your throat which didn't seem to bother him. In fact, this only made him more determined to make it look like you were dating.

“Are you joking?” Molly asked hysterically, causing your friends to grab their drinks and walk away. “I always hated the way this snake tried to get your attention, even when we were dating.”

Alex rolled his eyes at this. “I don't know what gave you the idea, it was the other way around,” he told her cheekily, then leaned over to place a kiss on your head.

And you were sitting there, being dragged into a fight you didn't want to be a part of. While you tried to pay attention to anything but that conversation, the gears in your brain began to turn. The other way around? You had always assumed it was meaningless flirting from his part. But maybe he was only saying this to annoy Molly.

“I love it when you're such a good girl for me,” he whispered in your ear to bring you back to reality, and his lips touched your skin to make your brain short-circuit.

Only now that you looked up did you notice that Molly had left without a word, leaving you there alone. “Alex, what the hell?” you demanded as you moved a little away from him.

“What?” he asked innocently as he took a sip of his beer. You punched his upper arm with an angry look on your face. “Come on, you can't say this wasn't a long time coming.”

“Nothing happened.”

Alex let out a laugh before he put a finger under your chin to make you look at him. “Which is a shame.”

Before you could say anything, he leaned forward to kiss you, his lips gently moving in perfect sync with yours. Damn it, you didn't even realize you kissed him back. But it felt good, so good that you didn't want it to end. Maybe he was right. Maybe this really was a long time coming.

[adrift-in-thyme]

Whumptober Day 28: “We might not make it to the morning; so go on and tell me now”

Read it on Ao3

- Time/Malon

- Summary: an injured Link shows up at Lon Lon Ranch

CW for blood and injury, mentions of death and broken bones

——————————

Malon’s hands never shake.

She can’t afford for them to. Sure, there are times when they are a bit unsteady from exhaustion or stress. Sure, there are things that scare her enough to make them trembling a possibility. But in her world, when things get hairy there is only action and no time for anything else.

Now is no different. At least, that’s what she keeps telling herself. Her hands don’t tremble, even as blood oozes over them. Her thoughts don’t falter. No tears fall.

But they want to. Oh, they want to. Because this time feels so very different. She has dealt with wounded animals before and even wounded people (she will never forget the time Ingo got kicked in the leg by Epona; satisfying though it may have been after the man’s behavior, setting that bone wasn’t exactly what she would call enjoyable). Never before, however, has she held the broken body of someone she cares for quite so much.

“You’re an idiot, fairy boy,” she breathes as she presses another cloth to the gash running across her friend’s middle.

“‘m your idiot, though,” he mumbles back. Even now there is characteristic mischief peeking out from behind the exhaustion and pain straining his tone.

Malon rolls her eyes.

Link has been bleeding all over her nice, clean floors and furniture for at least five minutes now. And that’s after he rode in, slumped over Epona’s back, one hand pressed to his stomach, the other clutching the horse’s reins like a lifeline.

He had come because he had nowhere else to go, he had said when she had stepped out onto the porch, eyes wide and heart in her throat. Because he could think of nowhere else that would be safe. Where he would be accepted without hesitation.

And as she had helped him down from the saddle, as he had practically collapsed onto her arms, he had apologized. Assured her he would take care of the wound himself, if only she would provide him a place to stay. As though he were a stranger in her home and not her best friend.

“Oh, shush,” she had scolded, ushering him into the house and lowering him onto the nearest chair. “I’ll take care of everything. You just sit down.”

And meekly, he had obeyed.

Now, he watches her with a slightly dazed look, as she tries to save his life.

For that is what she is doing, really. If she doesn’t get this wound to stop bleeding soon, he’ll bleed out.

As it is, she’s afraid he won’t last the night.

She worries her bottom lip and reaches behind her for the bandages lying on the table.

“Care to tell me how this happened?” The sharp bite of fear is in her tone despite her attempts to restrain it.

And really, who cares at this point, anyway? Her fairy boy is hurt, badly. She’s allowed to be a little worried.

Link drags in an unsteady breath.

“Monster fight.”

“The usual, then.” She shakes her head, sighing. “What I wanna know is what kinda monster fight was it that got you this hurt? I don’t think you’ve ever come around looking like this before.”

Link blinks, long and slow. The blue of his eyes seems unnaturally bright. Maybe because of the light, maybe because of pain. Malon thinks it’s likely both. But it almost reminds her of that little fairy that used to follow him around.

“Did you go into a dungeon or somethin’?”

Her gaze is back on her work, now, as she ties the bandages as tightly as possible. But when he speaks she can hear something almost like guilt in his voice.

“I—” A sharp hiss, fingers fisting in the fabric of his tunic. Malon murmurs an apology, trying to ignore the way the sound is like a dagger to her heart. “I was looking for…for something.”

“Lookin’ for something huh?”

She ties off the gauzy strips of fabric now practically holding the man together and takes a moment to survey her work.

That should hold.

Now, to get that bleeding firmly under control before he passes out…or worse. She grasps the bottle of potion that she had snatched from the cupboard earlier. It’s always handy, she has found, for times when the healing power of Lon Lon milk isn’t quite up to par. Times like now.

“That had better have been one important treasure. Did you get it at least?”

A small smile lifts Link’s lips. Somehow, it doesn’t make him look any more alive. He’s too pale, too ashen. There’s too much blood, coating his tunic, coating his hands and dribbling down from his mouth and nose.

But at least he has the strength to smile. Malon is willing to appreciate small miracles.

“Yeah, I got it.”

Something in the way he says it makes her slightly suspicious. But she hardly has time to figure out why. She wipes her hands on a nearby cloth, quickly so as not to take in just how stark the crimson looks against the white. Then, she uncorks the potion bottle and gets to her feet.

Link moves trembling, crimson drenched fingers toward the bottle. But she shakes her head.

“Uh-uh. You’re weak. Let me.”

With one careful hand, she tips his chin up and holds the bottle to his lips with the other. He swallows its contents obediently.

“That should help,” she says, once he’s finished. She turns away, setting the bottle back on the table. “At the very least you won’t be bleeding everywhere anymore.”

“Thanks,” he murmurs. He sounds a bit stronger already, she thinks. But maybe she’s just fooling herself to distract from the worry currently chewing a hole in her gut.

“Anytime, fairy boy.”

Malon inspects the wound one more time, reassuring herself that it’s no longer in danger of bleeding through the bandages. Thankfully, the potion already seems to be doing its job. The bandages remain a clean, cottony white.

“Looks like you’re out of the danger zone,” she says with a sigh of relief. “But you’re gonna need some rest and a new set of clothes.”

She looks over him once more, frowning. He raises an eyebrow.

“What?”

“I’m gonna have to tend to those other wounds of yours too. I swear, you look like you let the horses trample you.”

There is a distinct twinkle in his eye now. Already, he is beginning to look a little more like himself.

“Ah, it’s a…a good look then. A seasoned adventurer kind of look.”

Her lips quirk up even as she glares at him.

“No. It’s not a good look. I thought that much was implied. And it’s the kind that gives me a heart attack.”

He grins. But it quickly turns into a grimace as she sets about cleaning a cut along his neck. Gently, she tilts her head to get a better look at it.

“Stay still, now, and let me work.”

He mumbles a tired-sounding reply. His eyes are beginning to drift closed, despite his efforts to keep them open. And as she tackles each injury, he grows closer and closer toward losing his grip on consciousness completely. But the time he is cleaned up and she has managed to help him fumble into one of Talon’s spare tunics he is practically asleep.

“There,” she murmurs, setting aside the bowl of water and multiple cloths that she had used. They tinge the water pink. “Feelin a little better now?”

She knows that she is. The terror of earlier has abated somewhat, every steady breath, every beat of his heart convincing her that the danger is gone. At least, for now.

For now, her fairy boy is safe. For now, her hands don’t shake.

He hums, sleepily. His gaze is trained on the fireplace now, seemingly mesmerized by the flames dancing there. But when she drapes a blanket over him he drags his gaze up to meet hers.

“Hey, Mal.”

“Yeah?”

“I…I think I’m in love with you.” He frowns, thought obviously a difficult task at the moment. “No…know I am.”

Malon stops short, edges of the blanket still clutched in her suddenly shaky hands. A short bark of laughter escapes, a bit louder than she means it to be.

“I think you’ve lost a little bit too much blood.”

“‘m fine,” he retorts, scowling. “Malon ‘m serious. I love you.”

Shaking her head, she tucks the blanket up around his chin and presses a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Alright, fairy boy. It’s time for you to get some sleep. We can pick up this conversation in the morning.”

His scowl becomes decidedly pouty, though he has little choice but to comply. His eyes slip closed, breath beginning to even out.

By the time, Malon has cleaned up the gory mess (she never wants to see this much blood again, especially not from him), and put away her tools, he is long gone. She allows herself a moment to gaze at him, slumbering peacefully, face illuminated by the flickering flames. He is less pale now and with the blood gone he looks more human. Younger, more like himself.

Reaching out, she rubs her thumb on his cheek, a smile playing on her lips.

“I love you too, Link.”

[avirxy]

115. "Please don't touch me." But Werewolf Claire? (I love ur au btw)

She wakes up with blood in her mouth, cracked and dried along her lips, stained in rivulets down the hollow of her throat.

Claire blinks, wincing as she turns her head away from searing sunlight overhead.

It parts through the leaves, glinting across dry, withered underbrush. Spring is approaching but cold still nips and bites at the foliage, making it an off wicker brown that soaks up everything.

She doesn’t immediately see anyone or anything, just endless woodland. Curling her fingers into the soft earth the trickling sound of running water hisses nearby, not man made, to rough and tumbling.

The stumbling trip is made in short bursts of leaning against nearby trees, her feet catching along roots that rise from the ground. But she sees it eventually, slightly sloping lower into the earth.

Claire drags herself to the bank, aching for a drink, to get this—disgusting, tangy…sweet blood out of her mouth and off her hands.

It’s under her fingernails, wedged along each bed.

She doesn’t recognize the creek either, sandy little outcroppings, the trees, sometimes she can piece together a relative location, like once she woke up near the lookout or by those weary abandoned straggler cabins belonging to some sort of nature preserve.

The unknowing scares her, of what she did, or didn’t do.

Ice cold water stings her skin, but the want for a drink is far outweighing any chill she’s experiencing. It’s easier to focus on, keep the task simple so her mind can’t stray.

Claire almost doesn’t care as it drips in-between her fingers, soaking her ruined clothes.

She hears him long before she sees him, as she’s cupping another palm full of water, the twigs he keeps stepping on, his rushed breaths.

Something could hunt him down so easily, in the woods, where the beast knows best, it could be on his back before he has the chance to defend himself.

Jim’s an incredibly capable fighter, and part of her knows his rush is to reach her, uncaring with the noise he’s stirring up. But he couldn’t stop her when the moon hangs full and heavy in the sky if he tried, and he wouldn’t.

Even if it hunted him he’d play offensive, Jim would never hurt her and that terrifies her, because she knows the wolf doesn’t hold the same values.

She could end up over his body one of these days.

Claire’s already seen enough of that in her nightmares.

Ones that keep her sleepless and cagey, desperately fiddling with the tab of an energy drink before first period because she can’t close her eyes without seeing flashes of what might be true or not.

He’s breathing hard when he crests the edge, a tattered bag slung over his shoulder. Toby calls it something really stupid and joking, a recovery bag but the exact name is blanking her right now, too early for her mind to fully be slotted back into place.

Housing whatever Jim has carefully packed into it for her today. His eyes widen at the sight of her, relief the only emotion spread across his face.

It should be disgust she thinks bitterly, using her sharp nails to scrape at the dried blood still sticking to her wrists, but she can’t get it all off, even days later the ghost of the feeling lingers, the guilt.

Claire swears the blood is still on her hands sometimes, soaked into her skin as a reminder.

“I got turned around twice,” He talks so light, so softly, “this magic compass could definitely use some tweaking.”

He’s also awful with directions so, the cards are stacked against him.

He kneels down, carefully slipping the bag off his shoulder. Jim’s sword sits at his hip, he doesn’t take any chances after one month when a Ogre decided no one was allowed to cross his bridge without losing a limb. Funny it wasn’t a troll.

It’s never been used against her, not yet, likely not ever, not willingly.

His heartbeat thumps in her ears, so loud it’s almost enticing, closer still he approaches, bringing with him that—

Gold flashes violently across her vision and Claire shies away instantly, inhaling sharply.

“Please don’t touch me.”

It’s not that she doesn’t want his comfort, his touch. She’s covered in someone…something’s blood though.

And his heartbeat is far too leering.

Jim doesn’t press, he never does, gaze flitting across her face worriedly. Sitting down in the mud there’s ample space between, he’s safer that way.

Claire stares at her reflection, watching it twist and warp as the water ripples, just like last night. The nearly unrecognizable figure stays human though, untamed brown hair, the blaring strip of white. Her eyes look weird though, fighting between flits of gold.

“Did I…”

“No,” He assures steadily. “You stayed to the east of town the entire time, never got close, Darci had a spell going all night.”

Her bottom lip has been worn raw from the drag of her teeth. “And you didn’t find anything?”

Jim seems to infer what she’s asking. “It was probably an animal.”

“And if it wasn’t?”

“Claire, I don’t think you’d do that.”

She wouldn’t, but the wolf would, it did, she still doesn’t think Toby’s fully forgiven her for Mr. Fluffy, the poor thing was found mauled in a ditch not long after the full moon a few months ago.

“Why do you keep doing this for me?”

He wakes up before dawn, or maybe he doesn’t even sleep, treks through mud and grime, exposes himself to the danger of the woods.

All to find her.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know how you stand it.”

Claire doesn’t phrase it as a question, because she already knows the answer. If it were him, instead of her, if he was cursed to become a monster, to roam the woods under burning moonlight she’d do everything in her power to help him.

He smiled softly. “You can’t chase me off with a little blood,”

Would she chase him off with the fact that this is forever, there’s no cure, there’s nothing in the world that could possibly help her.

“Claire?”

The tears burning at the edges of her eyes are becoming harder to fight off, blurring her peripheral.

She tries to swallow the thick, wallowing knot in her throat unsuccessfully.

“Hey,” He breathes in a whisper, fast and worried.

“Can I?”

She fights with herself for several moments before nodding, squeezing her eyes shut.

Jim grasps one of her bloodstained hands, clasping his fingers across her own and Claire feels fresh tears sting her eyes, it’s done so gently she trembles at the force of it.

“It’s okay,” He murmurs as the first of many sobs escape past her teeth.

“Claire, it’s okay.” Jim repeats as she twists on the bank and grasps the edges of his shirt, hating herself for getting blood on his clothes.

His arms wrap around her, carefully, holding her up as Claire cries, burying her face in the space between his neck and shoulder.

She hates it—

She hates that she’s crying in front of him.

Claire hates that she can’t stop herself, that she can’t wait an hour until she’s sitting in shower as the water rubs her skin raw to sob, to cry until her voice is hoarse and her eyes are so blurry with tears it’s hard to see.

Jim just keeps murmuring the same two words, over and over.

Gently reminding her, staining his hands with blood just like her’s already are.