#do not MENTION the way her eyes teared up when she thought about it

[47lake]

payback

synopsis: you always loved it when she got frustrated, but something about this night specifically drove you absolutely wild. plus, you had to get your payback.

‼️: sub!top!billie, dom!bottom!reader, restraints, begging, tears, thigh riding, teasing, princess treatment(receiving), more that i’m probably forgetting oops ! w/c 2.6k

continuation of 'im sorry'

the two of you were at dinner with her team, a very classy restaurant with everyone’s tab covered by billie as a way to say thank you for all their hard work throughout the year.

you let your girlfriend pick your outfit for the night, she returned from the closet after very carful consideration with a sleek, long sleeve, deep crimson dress that you had gotten recently. you chuckled and smiled, knowing billie had been waiting for you to wear it. you paired it with some black louboutins bils has surprised you with a few days before.

“they were supposed to be for christmas but i was too excited to see your reaction so, do you like them?!”

she was always so sweet to you, spoiling you with anything she even thought you would like. you pick something up to look at it closer in a store? it’s practically bought already.

you hooked the clasp of a gold necklace you mentioned liking to her once. it arrived at your door a few days later along with the earrings and bracelet to match, accompanied by a proud billie.

you sprayed a few sprays of her eilish no 1 & no 3, the mix of the warm vanilla with the christmas-y scent mixing together in a way that billie loved.

you grabbed your purse, black leather with gold accents, perfect for any outfit. you stepped out of the closet, lipstick in hand, to find your girl adjusting her tie, the perfect shade of red to match your dress. she was wearing a suit, a little baggy to fit her aesthetic, with her new converse, ‘open up the door’ could be read along the side of the sole.

you stood there for a moment, watching her adjust herself, she was perfect. you cleared your throat to make your presence known, she practically did a 360, eager to see how you looked.

“you’re kidding… there’s no way i get to call this gorgeous girl mine, somebody pinch me.”

she took your hand as the two of you closed the distance between yourselves, she spun you in a circle, whistling as she took it all in.

“you know i could sit here and admire you for hours but we’ve gotta go or we’re gonna be late!”

she gripped your hand a little tighter and led you out the door, opening your car door for you and holding her hand out to help you get in. she shut the door softly and ran around to her side, throwing herself inside and slamming her own door.

she waited for you to buckle your seatbelt and touch up your makeup, watching intently as you outlined your lips. thumbing circles against your exposed thigh through the slit that ran up the side of your dress. just as you snapped the mirror shut she started backing down the driveway, her hand never leaving your skin as she turned out onto the street.

you both always had to be touching, you reached over to hold the back of her neck as she held your thigh. you scratched her neck softly, your red acrylics perfectly contrasting her pale skin.

you couldn’t help but watch her, it was your favorite thing. her side profile always so gorgeous, her resting face always seemed so focused, you wondered what she could be thinking about all the time.

the car ahead of you casting a bright red light across her features, helping you clearly see her face light up as she turned her focus to you.

“whatcha looking at?”

“just my girl.”

she smiled wide and returned her gaze to the road, such a sweet girl.

──୨ৎ──

throughout the night you could see your appearance was having more and more of an effect on her.

her eyes lingering on the deep neckline of your dress for just a little too long when you spoke to her.

her mind visibly wandering as you shot her knowing glances.

how intently she watched you even if she was speaking to someone else across the room.

everyone knew billie was infatuated with you, but tonight was something more. something that she couldn’t hide no matter how hard she tried.

her gaze currently fixated under the table, the slit of your dress falling to perfectly showcase your crossed legs and her hand atop your thigh.

“billie?”

“hm?!”

she snapped her head, tuggingher gaze away from your body. you giggled quietly as she ran her hand along your skin, giving you any attention she could.

“your speech?”

“OH! right yes!”

she stood up out of her seat and called attention to everyone within the private room. she thanked her team for all their hard work and patience with her and her career. she went on to tell a few funny stories between her and some of the crew, laughs erupting around the room. billie’s smile gleamed through all the chatter, she waited for everyone to settle down and turned to you.

“and i also want to thank my beautiful girl!”

she reached down for your hand, placing it in her own.

“this girl has helped me through thick and thin, kept me grounded, and helped me truly be me. she has done more for me than she will ever know, and i love her endlessly.”

you couldn’t help but smile, you loved how sentimental she could be, she’s so perfect.

everyone starts clapping as she motions to you after her little spill, smile still plastered on your face, you shook your head and squeezed her hand tightly.

she sat down and people went back to chatting amongst themselves, billies hand quickly returning to your thigh. she leaned closer to you, lips inches away from your ear.

“you look so beautiful, it’s driving me crazy.”

she slid her hand up just enough to show her intentions behind that statement, you laughed and told her to be patient. you loved when she got enamored like this, she couldn’t pull her gaze away from you if she tried.

you lightly placed your hand on top of hers, running your index gently across her middle & ring. you’d think something so simple wouldn’t bother her so much, but you could instantly see her her zone out, god knows what she could be recollecting.

you cleared your throat as someone approached, snapping het out of her thoughts instantly. amusement shown clearly across your features. you kissed her cheek, leaving a vivid red stamp on her face. it paired nicely with the rosy blush now coating her cheeks.

she stumbled over her words as you continued to trace over her fingers with your own, her eyes darting around the room as she tried to focus on what the poor girl in front of her was saying. she answered to the best of her ability and the girl walked back to her seat, billie shot you a look that clearly read ‘you’re so mean!’ you smiled innocently and leaned into her ear.

“i can’t wait until we get home sweet girl, you’re gonna be so good for me.”

her hand flew over her mouth, eyes wide as her mind ran with ideas of what was in store. she cleared her throat and adjusted her hair, trying to keep herself composed, much to her dismay her pink cheeks and hot ears were a dead giveaway.

──୨ৎ──

you and billie both stood outside the door of the restaurant saying your goodbyes to everyone, thanking them for coming and for everything they do. billies team was so big it felt like ages, especially since you were eager to get your hands on her.

the last person got in their car and drove away, billie snatched you up in her arms and practically flew to her car.

she set you down and opened the car door for you, like always, holding her hand out to keep you steady as you got inside. you buckled your seatbelt and she shut the door with care, despite her impatience, running around to her side and flinging herself inside. she started up the car and began to drive while simultaneously buckling her seatbelt, wasting as little time as possible.

“someone’s excited.”

you teased her as you ran your fingers through her hair.

“how could i not be? you only drove me absolutely insane throughout the entirety of dinner!”

“oh hush, you know you like it.”

she turned her gaze away, pretending to be focused on the road as she hid her smile.

she ran her hand up and down your thigh, traveling just a little further up each time. she wanted you so bad it was precious, tracing circles with her thumb and tapping the pads of her fingers against your skin.

you couldn’t help but smile, you uncrossed your legs, looking over to see her attention directed towards your thighs. you felt her hand travel further up than before, making sure to stop before she got carried away. her eyes fixated on the road, bottom lip tucked between her teeth as she smiled.

she pulled into the driveway, getting out of the car quickly and running around to your side. she opened the door and undid your seatbelt for you, eager to get inside already. you giggled as she held her hand out, taking it and stepping out.

you held both sides of her face as she shut the door back, kissing her passionately. her hands cascaded to your waist as yours wrapped around the back of her neck, her touch fell down to your ass as she squeezed softly. you pulled away, thumbing over her cheek as you were met with her pouty eyes and swollen lips.

“my poor baby.”

she tried pull you back in when you grabbed a handful of her tie, leading her to the door. you held your free hand out expectantly as she scrambled through her pockets for the keys, handing them to you with a cheesy smile.

you undid the lock and pulled her a little harder as you led the way to the bedroom, opening the door and walking her over to the bed. you let her out of your grip and she flops down, looking up at you and waiting for her next instruction.

“help me with my dress sweetheart, i can’t reach the zipper.”

she jumps up and obliges happy, slowly pulling the zipper down with one hand, the other resting on your hip. her plump lips trailing soft kisses across your shoulder and your collarbone to eventually land on the nape of your neck. the zipper soon runs out and she pushes the sleeves off your shoulders, spinning you around, kisses now lining the edge of your jaw as she slips your dress off.

“i wanna make you feel good..”

you caress her shoulders and push her away gently, the backs of her knees hitting the edge of the sheets as she is sat on the bed again. you straddle her lap and watch as her eyes linger on your exposed figure, she’s always had a weakness for how perfect you look in lace.

“i know, you’re so eager my love. i promise, you’re gonna make me feel so good.”

she smiles looking up at you, her hands return to your skin, so desperate to please. you loosen her tie and pull it off, unbuttoning her shirt to join the pile forming in the floor. you slide off her lap and get on your knees between her legs, undoing her belt and and button of her pants, sliding them off and throwing them to the slide.

now that you had her on display to match yourself you told her to move back, her back resting against the headboard as she sat up straight, legs out in front her.

“i want you to close your eyes for me sweet girl, you can do that, yeah?”

she nodded intently as her lids fell closed, waiting for your next move. you got up off her lap and pulled the drawer of the nightstand open. you smiled as you pulled out a roll of ribbon, you told billie to be patient and quiet as you tied her wrists to the headboard in a pretty red bow.

you could cum right then, she looked so sweet. her eyes closed, bottom lip tucked between her teeth, your kiss stamp on her face, rosy pink cheeks flush as her arms remained above her head. you quickly slipped your bra and panties off and positioned yourself to be straddled across her thigh.

“open, my love.”

her eyes fluttered open, looking up as she gasped, the realization of her restraint washing over her. she tugged gently against the ribbon, looking at you with a pout painted across her face.

“babyyy?!”

“payback. pretty girl, don’t you remember when you just couldn’t help yourself?”

you watched as she became lost in her own thoughts, recollecting her apologies falling from her lips as she held you down.

she quickly snapped out of her daze when she felt your wet heat touch down on her thigh, her focus instantly fixated on the slow rhythm of you hips against her thigh.

“come on! please! just let me touch you please! i’ll be a good girl, i promise!”

you smiled, your hands finding stability in the sheets as you picked up your pace, dirty moans rolling off your tongue that you knew would drive her wild.

“i know you will, you’re making me feel so good, sweetheart. just sit there and look pretty for me, yeah?”

she nodded slowly and her attention instantly retuned to the puddle of arousal pooling against her skin. you began to roll your hips faster and faster against her. she repeated ‘please’ and ‘fuck’ over and over, not touching you was making her crazy. you loved it.

she started to buck her hips, loving that you were using her to get off.

“such a dirty girl. you’re just watching and can’t control yourself?”

her eyes locked with yours, she looked so sweet when she got needy like this, small droplets fell from her eyes in frustration.

“please let me touch you, please, it’s all i want, please, baby.”

oh. my. god.

you couldn’t refuse that, you untied her pretty bow and tossed it aside.

her hands flew to your hips, positioning one to be able to press circles into your clit with her thumb. she began to guide your hips, picking up at the pace where you had left off.

you laid your head against her shoulder as she rolled your hips faster and faster, moans and whines spilling out of you rapidly as the knot inside of you grew tighter and tighter.

“fuck bils! yes! make me cum!”

she pressed your hips down harder and kept her pace and your body shook in her grasp, she kissed your neck as her pace grew slow, letting you ride out your high. you sighed deeply and laid against her for a moment, catching your breath.

“don’t move.”

she nodded and waited patiently, you took one final breath and got off her thigh, positioning yourself a little further back between her legs. you looked up at her and held her gaze with yours, arching your back in front of her.

“fuck!”

she inhaled sharply as your warm tongue collected all of your pleasure off her skin. you sat up once you were finished, kissing her deeply.

“my good girl, you took your payback so well.”

this one is a bit long but i hope you all enjoy! 🖤

let me know if yall have anything yall wanna see with loser subtopillie 🧟‍♀️

send any requests to my inbox ! 📥

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[jo-speaks]

Not sure if this is the right way to request this, so please excuse me but 🍩,20, luke Hughes 

warnings: cheating, breakups, mentions of sex

“You’re being unreasonable!” 

His words caused you to stop in the middle of the hallway, turning around to face him directly. 

“Unreasonable?” You scoffed, “Then enlighten me, Luke. What is unreasonable about me thinking that you didn’t sleep with her when she’s literally in your bed wearing your hoodie?”

Luke sighed, “That’s not the whole story. Jack threw a party, she got drunk, puked on her dress, so I thought the right thing to do would be to at least make sure she sobered up before getting into an uber.”

He stepped closer to you as he saw the gears in your head turning in your head. You had heard this same story before when you came over unexpectedly just to find a girl in his bed. You believed it knowing Luke was a nice guy, but twice in a row?

“Baby, you’ve gotta trust me.” He mumbled, his hands grabbing the sides of your face as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead, “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

You sighed, your body softening in his hold, “Oh I’m trying to. So hard right now, Luke.”

Just as you looked up at him, tears threatening to leave your eyes, you could hear the faint noise of movement going on in his room. Before you could process anything, the door opened behind him, revealing a pant-less girl, still in his damn hoodie. 

“Lukey, come back to bed. I’m in the mood for a second round before your girlfriend gets back.” 

Since Luke was a decent bit taller than you, you were hidden behind his frame, the girl unable to see you as she spoke to your boyfriend. 

Luke’s face turned into a grimace, his gaze immediately finding yours as you pushed him away from you. “Y/N-”

“No.” You mumbled, afraid to raise your voice so late into the night, “Fuck you. And fuck whoever you want because we’re done.”

You turned around, making your way downstairs to leave, trying your hardest not to let the tears fall from your eyes. You hadn’t expected Luke to follow, but he did. He grabbed your arm, turning you around to face him just as your hand touched the knob of the front door. 

“Please, don’t leave. I’ll tell her to go and we can just-” He began, but you cut him off.

“And we can just what?” You asked, your eyebrows knitting together in frustration, “Forget it happened? Fall asleep in the same bed you fucked her in?” Luke let out a breath, his own eyes beginning to fill with tears, “I’m sorry.”

You scoffed in his face, worming your arm out of his grasp before turning around and leaving the apartment for the last time, leaving him standing regretfully in his doorway.

[lizmitches]

“had a nice day, darling? can’t say. you caught the stretford strangler yet? can’t say. what do you want for tea? can’t say.”

“…is that supposed to be me and you?”

“no. i mean, of course not. you’ve made that really clear.”

[fairy-angel222]

Being older bf! Toji’s sweet dolly gf.

Everybody wonders just how it even happened. He was so big and broody, face always serious as he peered down at people with hard glares. But you.. you were so sweet. Everyone loved you, thought you were the most darling girl in town.

You were always so kind to people, smiling brightly as you engaged in conversation with almost anyone, easily lighting up their day with your gentle tone.

You’re a joy to be around, your presence was soft, warm.. welcoming. His was mean, scary even. It was a strange mixture. Not to mention how much bigger he is compared to you. His tall height and broad body engulfing yours completely when his arm wraps around your waist.

Your hand tight in his as you two walked down the street. Intertwined fingers swinging as you attempted to tug him into the direction when something caught your eye. Batting your lashes up at him with an innocent tilt of your head. “Daddy.. can you buy me this? Pretty please?”

He thinks he spoils you too much, only chuckling deeply before letting you drag him into the store with a squeal. The singular item turning into bags full by the time you were ready to leave. You could hear the whispers circulating around you about you and your big boyfriend, huffing with the roll of your eyes when a girl questioned your ability to please him. To take all of him, insisting to her friend that she’d do a better job.

Of course you could take him, you did every single night. When your legs are bent onto his arms. The man’s large muscles flexing as he slid your little body up and down his cock. Using you like his own personal flesh light to stroke himself with your snug walls.

You mewl loudly, head falling back onto his shoulder as your pussy gushed messily. Toji’s large hand pressing both your legs to your chest with a smirk. Watching as your eyes filled with tears at how much deeper he could reach when he began slamming up into you roughly. Throbbing tip kissing your g spot meanly before bullying its way deep inside you- being able to feel his massive girth poking desperately at your cervix for entrance.

You let out a string of high pitched moans, body shaking as Toji fucked your tight pussy on and off his cock. Your snug grip ready to milk him dry as he groaned. “You’re so fucking perfect like this baby. Shit, pretty pussy doesn’t even wanna let me go.”

“Mmfg— d-daddy. So g-good, ‘m so close.”

“Yeah? Close f’ me already? You’re taking me so well baby. Taking daddy’s cock so far up that sopping pussy like a good girl.”

You smile with a choked cry, toes curling through your socks as you neared your orgasm. You wished that girl could see you prove her wrong, show her how well you took your boyfriend’s fat cock. Something she could never ever have.

[moonlightrafe]

The Albatross

summary: Originally an unlikely match, you give birth to Aegon’s first child and his entire world changes.

pairing: Aegon x Strong!Reader

word count: 767

warnings: Description of pain & childbirth, brief mention of blood, guilt.

note: “Albatross” is used metaphorically as a psychological burden dealing with shame or guilt! (and shout out to Taylor Swift)

Aegon wanted to hate you. He wanted to hate your hair and your eyes. Your thick eyelashes, the freckles that dusted your cheeks, the way your nose scrunched when you laughed. Despite wanting to hate you in your entirety, he found himself physically incapable of doing so. As a young boy he refused to admit it, even going so far as to tease you for your features — but he thought you were beautiful. If anything, you could’ve resembled his mother more than a Targaryen.

It wasn’t your features that were wrong, but who you inherited them from; you and your brother’s served as living, breathing reminders of Rhaenyra’s infidelity.

Alicent Hightower had been sure to remind him and his siblings that you and your brothers were a product of their older sister's infidelity. An embarrassment to the family. An insult to the crown, to the realm. Abominations. Bastards.

Screams of pain shook the walls of the Red Keep.

“I can’t do this anymore, Aegon! Please make it stop, it hurts!” you rasped, clawing at the blood-soaked bedsheets. It had been almost 24 hours since your labors had begun. To everyone's surprise, Aegon had yet to leave your side.

“We’re almost there, my love. You’re doing a great job,” your husband encouraged as he placed a chaste kiss to your sweat-drenched forehead, which you only returned with a death glare.

“I cannot take it anymore! Just get it out! Cut it out if you have to!”

One of your handmaids tried to dab at your forehead with a cloth, but you gripped her hand forcefully.

Aegon gave her a sympathetic look as he got her out of your grasp, locking his fingers with yours.

“You know we can’t do that, my love. I will not risk losing you.”

You winced as your midwife slid a finger around the base of your opening. All day long you had been violated against your will. Childbirth was not only painful, but humiliating. For Aegon’s sake, you silently prayed the babe was a boy. You weren’t sure if you would be willing to go through this again.

“I can feel the head, your grace. Just a few more big pushes for me and the babe will be here.”

You groaned loudly, your teeth grinding together as another contraction wracked your frame. Pain radiated down your spine and into your groin. You felt like you were being ripped apart at the seams. Being eaten by Sunfyre seemed to be a more pleasant fate than this.

“You hear that? You’re almost done. You’re doing so good.”

You squeezed onto Aegon’s hand as hard as you could, pushing with all the strength in your body. The harder you pushed, the sooner it would be over. You needed it to be over. With a final push, your vision began to blur and your mind went blank.

Before you knew it, loud cries pulled you back to Earth, and coo’s from your handmaidens filled the room. You laid back with a sigh of relief.

Finally.

The handmaids quickly handed the babe to Aegon so you could get cleaned up.

“A girl,” she stated proudly, “and she looks just like you, my queen.”

“Like me?” You shot up.

“Lay back your grace, you need to relax,” she scolded you.

Throughout your pregnancy there was a fear in the back of your mind, that if the babe inherited your features that Aegon would be disappointed. Turns out, you couldn’t have been more wrong.

“Yes,” he chuckled, tears swelling in his eyes, “like you. She is absolutely beautiful.”

He placed the baby in your arms, smiling down at the two of you.

A wave of guilt had crashed over Aegon at the sight of his newborn daughter. As well as your initial reaction to her looks. Thinking about the torment you endured for those same features in a world full of violet eyes and snow-white hair. How could he have been so cruel to you for something so fickle?

He couldn’t help but think about Ser Harwin Strong. And the fact that he probably shared the same thoughts as him the first time he laid eyes on you as a babe. This baby was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen and the thought of anyone making her believe anything else made his blood boil. He would simply not allow it. Anyone who even dare whisper a word regarding your daughters features would lose their tongue for it.

Although the responsibility of sitting the Iron Throne loomed heavy over Aegon’s head it wasn’t until this very moment that he had true reason to be motivated to rule: his new family

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

I’M NOT HIM

rafe cameron x fem!reader

( mood board does NOT depict readers appearance !! )

SUMMARY: in which rafe snaps at reader during a heated argument and she flinches, her past trauma resurfacing. rafe breaking the main promise he made to her: to not be anything like her father.

based on an ask i got that i lost </3 i hope the anon who requested it finds this, and this its what you asked for! i’m a little rusty with one-shots so just a short one to ease me into things again! :)

WARNINGS: angst to fluff, arguing, cursing, mentions of past childhood abuse (reader), mentions of a gun/brief mention of violence, trauma responses, crying. (lmk if i missed anything!!)

WORD COUNT: 900 words

THIRD PERSON +

Rafe Cameron wasn’t the kind of man anyone would describe as soft. Not with the sharp edge in his voice, the perpetual storm behind his ocean eyes, and the way his knuckles bore scars from fights he barely remembered. He had spent his life battling demons, most of them inherited from Ward Cameron, and those fights had shaped him into someone who took no prisoners.

But with Y/N, none of that mattered.

Y/N was everything Rafe wasn’t—gentle, warm, full of an optimism he couldn’t begin to understand but adored nonetheless. She radiated light, the kind that made him want to shield her from the darkness in himself. For two years, she’d been his anchor, the one person who saw past the volatile exterior to the man buried beneath. And for two years, Rafe had promised himself that he would never hurt her.

But promises don’t always hold in the heat of the moment.

The argument had started over something Y/N had brought up before: the gun in Rafe’s apartment. She hated it, hated what it represented, and hated the memories it dragged up for her.

“Rafe, I told you,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “I don’t feel safe with it here. Please.”

Rafe, already wound tight from dealing with his father’s latest scheme and the growing weight of “the business,” felt his patience snap like a rubber band stretched too far.

“It’s not a big deal, Y/N,” he muttered, pacing the living room. “It’s not like I’m walking around with it in my hand. It’s locked up, alright? Just drop it.”

Y/N didn’t drop it. She rarely did when something mattered to her. “It is a big deal, Rafe. I asked you to get rid of it. I thought you understood how—”

“I said fucking drop it!” Rafe’s voice thundered through the room, loud enough to make the walls seem smaller.

The words echoed in the sudden silence, bouncing off the tension between them. Rafe froze, immediately regretting the way he’d shouted, but it was too late.

Y/N stood there, trembling, her wide eyes glassy with unshed tears. Her lip wobbled as she tried to hold herself together, but Rafe saw the cracks forming.

“Baby…” he said softly, taking a step toward her, reaching out his hand.

She flinched. Actually flinched.

It was like a knife to his chest, sharp and unrelenting. He knew her past—knew about her father’s temper and the way it had scarred her. He knew that shouting brought her back to those dark, suffocating memories.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with panic. He reached out again, but she backed away, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“I—I can’t,” she choked out before rushing to the bedroom and shutting the door behind her.

Rafe rushed after her before collapsing onto the floor, pressing his back against the wall beside the bedroom door. He could hear her quiet sobs on the other side, each one driving the guilt deeper into his chest.

He buried his face in his hands. “I’m so sorry, baby” he murmured, voice breaking. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to scare you. Please, just… let me make it right.”

Her sobs continued, muffled but heartbreaking. Rafe rested his head against the door, tears streaming down his face. He could picture her inside, curled up in the corner, just like she used to do as a little girl to shield herself from her father’s rage. A place he promised her she wouldn't ever have to go back to.

“I’m not him,” he whispered, as much to himself as to her. “I’ll never be him. I swear. I’ll never hurt you.”

Minutes turned into half an hour, but Rafe didn’t move. He felt he didn’t deserve to move.

When the door finally opened, Rafe almost didn’t notice at first. He’d been staring at the floor, lost in the heaviness of his own shame. But then Y/N was there, stepping out quietly and kneeling beside him.

Without a word, she crawled into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder. Her touch was tentative, as if she wasn’t entirely sure she could trust it yet, but Rafe held her like she was the only thing keeping him alive.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered over and over, his voice cracking as he clung to her. “I didn’t mean it. I swear, Y/N/N. I’m so sorry.”

Y/N didn’t respond right away. She just held him, letting his warmth chase away the cold that had settled in her chest. Eventually, she pulled back just enough to look at him, her tear-streaked face breaking his heart all over again.

“Please don’t yell at me like that again,” she said softly, her voice trembling.

Rafe cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing away her tears. “I won’t,” he promised, his tone fierce with conviction. “Never again. I’ll get rid of the gun. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right. Just… don’t be afraid of me.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Y/N said, her voice barely audible. “I’m afraid of the person you might become.”

Rafe nodded, the weight of her words sinking deep. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, holding her tightly again. “I’ll be better,” he whispered. “For you, I’ll be better.”

In that moment, Rafe vowed to prove it. Not with words, but with actions—starting with the gun.

(dividers by @kodaswrld <3)

betty’s notes ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

ahhhh my first one-shot in FOREVER :’) it’s a short one and really sad and angsty but it felt like the quickest ask to whip out, and angst is easier for me to write atm :)

i’m so excited to start with the other requests, and please don’t stop requesting! i plan on writing most stuff 1,500 words +, this was just a short little ask so please request with as MUCH detail as possible <3

master list will be updated soon! but for now, to keep track of my works check my personalised tags that are below such as: #bettys asks!! ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ and #bettys work!! ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ or my personalised tags for characters !!

[itneverendshere]

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - FIVE

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mention of pregnancy; abortion; lack of self-care

You’ve had to make a lot of unfortunate decisions in your life.

Choosing a place for your entire family to rest for eternity, picking the caskets, the headstones—it felt like deciding which curtains to buy for the house, except you were burying your entire close family.

After the crash, your parents were gone instantly, just like that—no goodbyes, no warning, just there one moment and gone the next.

But your sister survived. Three days. You thought maybe that was a sign, she’d live despite everything, and you wouldn’t be left alone.

Two weeks later, the doctors told you it was time, but you couldn’t accept it. You held her hand, begging her to stay, telling her every promise you could think of if she opened her eyes.

When the monitors finally went flat, you couldn’t feel anything but desperation. Rafe had to pull you out of there, his arms locked around you while you kicked and screamed, sobbing and begging your sister not to go, not to leave you here.

You fought him with everything you had left, clawing, crying, pleading for just one more second. You were screaming so loud you didn’t even recognize your voice. Everything good had been ripped away from your hands, there was nothing left of the world you’d known.

After that, you remember sitting in some stuffy funeral home office, skimming through catalogs and hardly seeing the pages through your tears. The caskets all looked the same, the types of wood made no difference to you, fabric linings, all of it felt so wrong. 

None of it was a choice you should have to make. 

It was unthinkable to be contemplating about gravestones. How could you sum up your family in limited words or dates, let alone choose a font for it?

You just picked something neutral and blank, something that didn’t require thought or emotion because, by then, you had nothing left to give. 

Now you were trapped again, caught between a rock and a hard place.

Your first thought had been telling Topper, your only real family left, but he was as much Rafe’s as he was yours, and when it came down to it, he was still his best friend. Loyal to him since they were five, and jesus knows how he’d react if he found out about this. He’d most likely freak the fuck out and tell Rafe everything, thinking he was doing the right thing, or worse, letting it slip to Ruthie.

Ruthie—no chance you’d involve her. She’d just see this as another fucked up piece of gossip she could hold over your head, another way to judge or control you. She was “friend” only in the loosest sense of the word.

Kelce was the last person you’d consider turning to for something this serious. He has always been there, but you never got close. He was too much of an instigator, always pushing Rafe to do reckless things he’d regret later, peer pressuring him in ways that made you wonder if he even knew what loyalty meant. He had this weird loyalty to Ruthie, defending her comments as if she was some misunderstood angel when really, she was just… mean.

So that left Sarah. 

It felt weird, thinking of her as the person you’d call on for something so serious, she was the only one who felt… safe. She wouldn’t judge, wouldn’t pry, she’d seen what the worst kind of family conflict could do, and she’d keep this private, just for you.

It’s then you recognized how small your world was. How few people were truly yours.

You were pretty sure no one in this town would fully understand, they’d just offer their "advice," as if they knew you, seen what you’d been through. 

The truth was, they didn’t know shit. They hadn't seen you holding your sister’s hand, begging her to stay alive. They didn’t know what it was like to bury everything that made you feel like a person, like you belonged somewhere, and have to get up the next day like nothing happened.

Nine days, you would be halfway across the country, and you needed someone. You pictured saying it out loud: “I’m pregnant", just those two words, to someone’s face, you had no idea what to say next.

Maybe you’d tell them that it wasn’t about wanting it gone out of spite or shame, but because you couldn’t bring a child into a world where you felt this alone.

Earlier that morning, you’d stared down at your phone, thumb itching to click on Sarah’s name, like just pressing "call" could fix everything. You despised how needy it made you feel—reaching out, when you’d prided yourself on surviving alone. 

You didn’t have much time to ponder about it, because you were stuck at the beach cleanup.

Just like every other summer, another "social responsibility" event that your late father’s foundation insisted you smile through. Even back then, when they were alive, your summers were a carousel of charity galas, fundraisers, endless hours of small talk, and impeccably arranged seating charts.

The board members of the foundation probably thought it would “ground” you—remind you of your privilege, of your “responsibility” to give back. As if a couple of hours and a few bags of garbage would somehow balance the scales. They never seemed to understand how much of it was all for show, this shallow idea that if you looked the part, no one would care to learn more.

But, still, you’d show up. You always did. Smile, make just enough small talk to appease the right people. 

Today, it was just you, a few kids and teens dotted along the beach with oversized trash bags. It wasn’t even noon, but the sun felt like it was scorching you alive. It was laughable, really, standing under this blistering sun with a cheap trash bag and an endless stretch of sand to clean. 

Kie, who was so genuinely invested in this whole “save the planet” thing it was almost enviable was there too with JJ, who was running around her as usual, wearing his ‘I’m just here for the ride’ expression but enjoying himself. The love between them made you miss having someone who cared in ways that weren’t just calculated moves.

She waved at you from the shoreline, her eyes moving to the trash bag you were barely half-filling.

You weren’t friends, but if Sarah liked her, you did too.

You offered a faint smile back, tired, because between all the shit you’d been thinking about, you'd forgotten to eat, to drink anything, and every time you leaned down to grab another crumpled plastic bottle or a bit of seaweed-laden garbage, you felt like your legs were about to give out on you. 

Every now and then, she would throw a quick, appraising glance your way, like she was expecting you to miraculously become invested in the beach’s ecosystem.

You didn’t have it in you to pretend this was enjoyable today. The “effortless” philanthropy your family loved was a lifestyle you’d never bought into. It didn’t matter how many smiling photos of you had ended up on some charity’s social media—you knew you’d rather be anywhere else.

You had to take a break every few minutes, leaning against a pier post, trying to get yourself together as a few of the younger kids gave you wary glances. You could have left—probably should have.

You managed a tight-lipped smile, giving a thumbs-up that said, Just doing great over here, guys!

You were in a long t-shirt, which hung over your bikini and shorts, the fabric slightly oversized, to help hide what was still a small change in your body. Paranoia was your new best friend, always worrying that someone would notice something different, even if you didn’t have a noticeable bump yet.

Bending down to grab another plastic bottle, you felt a stab of nausea hit you hard, rolling up from your stomach, thick and sour, but you ignored it. Not here. Not now.

You straightened up too fast, and your vision blurred slightly, that familiar sense of vertigo hitting you. You took a shallow breath, ignoring the burn at the back of your throat, your hands shaking slightly as you adjusted the bag slung over your shoulder.

One girl looked up at you with these wide eyes kids like to pull, “Are you okay?” 

You smiled, brushing it off as if you weren’t about two seconds away from collapsing. “Of course. Just... need a second.” 

The kids were watching you again, with that look of curiosity. You couldn’t look them in the eye. It wasn’t their fault. They just didn’t understand that sometimes the grown-ups didn’t know what they were doing either. 

Just a few more bags of trash and you’d be able to get back to your car, maybe grab some water from the cooler in the trunk, sit down, and think about it.

This used to be easy, you got a weird kind of enjoyment from these cleanups, running around with your sister, making it a competition to see who could pick up the most trash, laughing until your stomachs hurt over stupid jokes about jellyfish and sunscreen. Back then, this was just one of a thousand little family traditions, one of those things that felt effortless.

Now, sweat dripped down the back of your neck, making your skin prickle uncomfortably.

You’d long given up wiping it away, knowing that it would only come back thicker and hotter the next second. Every instinct told you to run off to the parking lot, and sit in the car with the AC blasting until your body remembered it didn’t hate you.

Leaning down for one last bottle wedged in the sand, your legs wobbled and gave way beneath you. Just like that, your vision was spotty, as if someone had turned down the brightness on the entire beach, and you pitched forward.

Just as you felt yourself going down, a hand caught your arm, pulling you back up.

"Whoa, whoa, you okay?" A teenage boy, maybe sixteen, gripped your arm firmly, keeping you upright.

How much longer could they realistically expect you to go on, plastering on that sweet, dutiful smile? How much “grounding” could one person take?

You blinked, trying to clear the haze in your eyes, "I’m fine. Just a little lightheaded, really, it’s fine,” you insisted, but then a shadow loomed beside you. 

Your vision was so foggy that it took seconds for you to register it.

You looked up slowly, feeling a familiar drop in your stomach as you realized who it was.

The last time you’d been this close to him, the two of you had been screaming insults across the room, Lily having to physically step in. She’d forced him to leave before you two killed each other. It was a miracle you hadn’t punched him then and there.

 “You should sit down.”

It felt like a sidekick to your chest.

The sound of his voice was grinding on your nerves, and just like that you were stuck back in your dream, a real memory, leaning against him, his hand playing with a strand of your hair as he laughed at something you’d said, the two of you carefree under a golden sunset. 

Except this was real.

Rafe was shirtless, with his board tucked under one arm, surf wax staining his fingers, and the sun glinting off his damp skin, like he was God’s gift to the Outer Banks. His buzzed hair was dark and wet, droplets trailing down his temples and catching along his jawline. His cheeks were flushed, a little red from the heat.

You looked away, somewhere over his shoulder, anywhere but at him, refusing to let him see you in this fragile state.

“Go away. I’m fine.”

But he didn’t move.

He’d been summoned from your absolute worst memories, catching you at your lowest when you least wanted his help. Typical. 

“No,” he refused firmly, with that stupid, stubborn look that made you want to throw something at his head. “I’ve seen you almost fall three times now.”

“Maybe if you stopped looking at me like a creep, you wouldn’t have to see me ‘almost fall.”

“I wasn’t—"

You grounded your teeth, “Just go back to surfing.”

Rafe let out a dry laugh, shaking his head as if you were the one acting crazy. “Yeah, 'cause you look perfectly stable right now.”

He'd always been a master of the passive-aggressive half-sneer, the art of making you feel like everyone else was imposing on his day, no matter the situation.

“Don’t act like you care.” you snapped, voice carrying over the sand, earning a few glances from nearby kids.

He ran a hand over his face, looking around as if he didn’t want to be there any more than you did, mouth pressed into a tight line. You wanted to scream that this was his fault too, that every choice he’d made led to you standing here alone, exhausted, and terrified.

“Water would help, y’know”, his tone just shy of patronizing “You can’t go around dehydrating yourself just to make a point.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Your fingers twitched with the urge to send him stumbling to the other side of the beach, you knew that any sudden movement would make you light-headed again, and the last thing you wanted was to give him more proof of your weakness.

The kid—still standing there, eyes wide and darting between you both—looked like he was watching a reality TV show when Kiara appeared at your side.

“Let’s not do this here,” she begged under her breath, handing you a bottle of water she’d brought over, a kindness you didn’t want but couldn’t reject. “Just sit down for a second, please?”

JJ followed, always with that air of easygoing nonchalance, but his eyes were serious as he glanced from you to Rafe.

“She’s right. Just take a second, yeah?” He looked over at Rafe, “Maybe you should leave,” he said pointedly.

“Maybe you should mind your fuckin’ business Maybank.”

“Look, uh,” the kid stammered, knowing he could get caught in the crossfire. “I’ll… I’ll go see if anyone needs help further down the beach…”

You waved him off, your focus still locked on Rafe as the kid all but bolted away, you didn’t want anyone to think they had to “rescue” you.

You tried to take a step back, but the little strength you had in you disappeared as you felt your knees wobble.

"Jesus," you heard him groan, and then his hands were on your arms, board on the sand, holding you as you stumbled. "I told you to sit down."

You shook his hands off, "Don’t tell me what to do.”

It was hard to believe the two of you had once burned hotter than any bonfire, two people who got under each other’s skin, in love, and in hate.

He let out an exasperated sigh while you took a sip from the water Kiara handed you, ignoring how your hands were still shaking around the bottle. 

She spoke again, trying to be the voice of reason, "We’re here to help the community, remember?"

JJ smirked, "Yeah, think the sea turtles are rooting for y’all to work out your issues somewhere else.”

You ignored his joke, keeping your eyes on Rafe, your pride and stubbornness refusing to let him win, “I’m fine.”

“Yeah?”

He looked you over, his gaze fixed to your warm cheeks and the dewy sheen across your temple, “You look real fine, don’t you?” He didn’t even try to cloak his sarcasm.

God, he could be so exasperating.

He couldn’t understand. How could he even think he could look at you now and know anything about who you were? Standing there, with that stupid board and that look, like he couldn’t imagine anything bothering him as much as this seemed to be bothering you.

As if he hadn’t already ruined you in so many ways that felt impossible to get over. 

“Don’t you have something better to do?” 

“Oh, believe me, I do,” he drawled, his eyes trailing from the waves back to you. 

You were tired of this game, of fighting him every time he showed up only to leave you feeling even emptier than before.

Your fists clenched, and you opened your mouth to hurl something back, but the dizziness hit you again. Before you could compose yourself, Rafe’s arm wrapped around your waist, strong and frustratingly secure, holding you upright with an ease that made your skin crawl.

He had seen you at your weakest, had been there at the hospital after the accident, keeping you together when you were certain you’d break. 

Yet, here you were, in a sick way, back in his arms, all broken apart.

“That’s it. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“I hate to say it, but he’s right,” JJ chimed in, hand shielding his eyes from the sun.

The world alone had all kinds of alarms going off in your brain. You fought back instinctively, your hands pushing at his chest, freeing your arm. 

“I told you, I’m fine.”

He let go, but he didn’t back away.

Instead, he narrowed his eyes, “You think I don’t know what fine looks like? I was there.”

He was there. And you didn’t want to be reminded of it, not in front of other people. 

He meant the exhaustion and hunger pains you’d welcomed after your family was gone, embraced even, because it meant you wouldn’t have to feel anything else.

You’d wanted to disappear, and he’d been there—dragging you back, forcing you to drink water and swallow bites of food, even when you pushed him away. He’d seen you at your absolute lowest, where you didn’t care if you made it through the day. 

The thought of the hospital, tests, questions, you fought it, but your vision was already blurring.

You couldn’t let him find out about the baby. 

Your breathing felt tighter, each shallow breath only making the spinning worse, you could sense your body giving in to the exhaustion

“Shit,” you heard him curse, sounding distant now like he was farther away. 

You felt yourself sway as if the ground was opening beneath you, there was a ringing in your ears that made his voice sound muffled but you still felt his arms catching you again, holding you upright before you fell.

Waking up in a moving vehicle was like emerging from a nightmare, except somehow, this was worse, because you were no longer at the beach. 

You blinked hard, desperate to wipe the fogginess in your eyes and when it did go away, you realized who was behind the wheel. 

Rafe. 

Your heart pounded—your desperation to keep the baby a secret, how you almost passed out at the beach, and the fact that now he was most likely driving you to the hospital.

“What the hell are you doing?” you practically screamed, your voice hoarse from the lack of water.

He didn’t spare you a glance, “You passed out, genius. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

Your whole body went rigid. “Are you insane?”

“Me?” He scoffed, as he kept his focus on the road. “You practically ate sand back there. You’re not fine.”

“Turn the car around. I’ll call my driver and be fine.” You huffed like he was too dumb to understand. “I don’t need your help.”

He let out a dry laugh, still not looking at you. 

“Yeah. You’re out of your mind if you think I’m letting you out of this car right now.”

“Rafe, I’m not kidding,” you warned, louder this time. “Stop. The. Car.”

He gave you a sideways glance, his grip on the wheel tightening.

“Not happening.”

Your heart hammered as you realized he wasn’t going to back down, you were driven by sheer desperation.

“Fine, then I’ll do it myself." you muttered, reaching for the door handle. 

Anything to get out of this suffocating car before he dragged you all the way to the ER and they found out you were pregnant—with his baby, no less.

His eyes widened, finally snapping from the road to your hand on the handle.

“Are you crazy? Get your hand off that, I’m fuckin' serious.”

You yanked at it anyway, twisting the handle and pulling with spiteful defiance, and Rafe’s expression went from annoyed to full-on rage. He swerved the car to the side of the road, tires skidding as he slammed the brakes and practically threw the car into park.

Before he could even stop fully, you flung the door open and stumbled out, sandals sinking into the gravel as you stalked away.

You didn’t get more than a few feet, he was already bolting after you.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you muttered, digging your nails into your palms. 

How the hell had it come to this? You were stuck here, pregnant with his child, and he played the reluctant hero like you needed him swooping in to save you.

Rafe reached you in two strides, his fingers were digging into his forehead, pointing at it with exasperation imprinted into every corner of his face. 

“Are you out of your fuckin' mind?” He sounded like he was talking to some unruly child.

And the worst part? You could see that frustration in his eyes, the same look he used to give you when he’d reached his limit with you.

You wondered if he ever got to that point with Sofia.

What would he do if she was the one almost fainting? Would he still look like she was some colossal burden, or would he soften, maybe even smile as he fussed over her, acting like he wanted to help?

You hated yourself for caring at all.

Sofia—the one who looked like she'd been ripped off from some perfect postcard, all wide-eyed sweetness and gentle smiles. She probably never challenged him, snapped back, or made him want to pull his hair out.

There was no way he’d look at her like she was a mess, someone he just had to “deal with.” He likely saw her as easy, perfect, all soft and sweet words, everything you weren’t.

This wasn’t who you wanted to be, and yet here you were, stumbling around half-dead and pregnant with his child.

“I’m sorry, am I bothering you?” You spat the words, watching his jaw clench tighter. 

He exhaled sharply, rolling his eyes. 

“Unbelievable. Only you could take me trying to help and turn it into this.”

You were done. You were done with the memories, with the torment of seeing him be something better for someone else. 

“Help?” You laughed bitterly, the anger engulfing you so hard it felt as if it choking you. “You think this is help? That I need you, of all people?”

He took a step back, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I'm trying to help."

You hated how calm he was, how rational he sounded.

It was maddening when all you wanted was for him to get angry, to let that icy surface crack, to give you even a glimpse of something real, something that wasn’t just irritation or sarcasm.

You wanted proof that he still was affected by you, that this was the same guy who used to be everything, who’d promised you everything.

But you swallowed it down, straightening up, because there was no way in hell, you’d let him see even a hint of weakness.

“Trust me,” you shot back, “I’ll be just fine without you.”

He raised an eyebrow, a bitter smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “Get in the car.”

“No,” you said, firm and unyielding, every inch of you screaming that you wouldn’t let him decide anything for you ever again.

“Fine. Have it your way.”

In one swift move, he reached out, his hands gripping your arms with enough pressure to pull you forward, lifting you clean off your feet. Your breath caught in a furious gasp as he practically dragged you back to the car, his fingers warm against your skin, like you were just a mild convenience. 

“Put me down!” 

You struggled against his hold, jabbing at his chest with what little strength you could muster, but he didn’t even flinch, didn’t so much as hesitate. 

“Rafe, I swear—”

He opened the passenger door with one hand, keeping a firm grip on you with the other, before finally setting you down—not gently—onto the seat. Without meaning to, tears began falling as you struggled against his hands. You could feel them wetting your cheeks, your voice was breaking, jumping to distress as you tried to twist out of his hold, feeling so small under his unrelenting strength.

He almost knelt in front of you, reaching for the seat belt with one hand, while his other remained firmly on your shoulder, holding you still. You felt trapped, impresioned as you tried to turn in every direction, hands weakly pushing him back, but he caught them effortlessly.

“Stop!” you meekly choked out, failing to shove him, the words coming out shameful.

You could feel your heart breaking all over again.

You hated that he was seeing you like this, how he dared to act like you needed him—it made your skin crawl. You hated that he could do this, like he had any right like you’d ever wanted him involved in this part of your life, let alone now.

This was a version of you only Rafe could bring out.

You glared up at him, practically shaking with rage as Rafe ignored your protests like you were nothing more than a child throwing a fit. 

“Get your hands off me.”

His jaw tightened, ignoring the flailing punches and slaps grazing him, and you couldn’t stop the sob that escaped, loud and ugly.

“I’m not letting you kill yourself out of spite.”

Your chest hurt like you’d been run over a hundred times—it felt suffocating. “I hate you.”

For the first time, you thought he might actually leave you here. 

His fingers stopped as if your words had made an impact, his lips pressed into a thin line. Your vision blurred as he leaned in, his touch hovering as if to wipe away the tear running down your cheek, but he didn’t, instead, he closed his hand into a fist and drew back, his face just inches from yours. 

A faint, humorless smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he clicked the seatbelt into place. He made a low humming noise, that thing he did when he was getting ready to make someone feel two inches tall. 

 "Yeah? Get in line."

Without another word, he pulled back, slamming the door shut, and walking around to the driver’s side.

You wiped at your cheeks, furious that he’d seen you like this, that he had the power to break you down. It was humiliating, sitting here in his car, every part of your body screaming to escape. 

He got in, started the engine, neither of you spoke.

Rafe drove fast, every rev of the engine matching the churning in your stomach perfectly. You sat there, trembling, the dread building with every mile that passed. You gripped the seatbelt so hard it felt like your entire body might go numb, and stared straight ahead, breathing shallow, trying to ignore the sting in your eyes.

You bit back another wave of nausea. Weakness.

You’d already shown him too much. 

You didn’t need a lecture from some doctor on how you “should’ve taken better care of yourself", let alone with Rafe there, watching, scrutinizing, acting like this was his business when he’d made it clear long ago that it wasn’t. He was in your space in the worst way, reopening all the wounds.

You were seething. He had no right to do this.

The thought made you want to drop dead—doctor would walk in, casually drop the news about the baby, and you'd be left watching his reaction in real time.

You looked at the entrance to the ER. The vision of anyone running tests, of some well-meaning nurse, coming in and spilling everything about the baby in front of him—no way. You wouldn’t let that happen.

He wasted no time getting out, moving around to your side, while you sat rigidly, staring straight ahead. His hand was already on the door, yanking it open, looking down at you like he was ready to drag you inside if he had to.

You weren’t moving. You knew the second you stepped inside, it would be over. 

“C’mon,” Rafe pressed, his hand outstretched, hovering there like he thought he could compel you to listen. “Stop being so stubborn.”

You crossed your arms over your stomach, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I’m not going in.”

Rafe let out a sigh, nearing his limit, and knelt down to your level.

“Look, you passed out. I’m not leaving until you get checked out.”

“You’re gonna be here for a while then.”

“Would you stop?” His voice softened for the first time, as if he was trying to reach some part of you that he thought still cared. “You look like you haven’t slept in days, like you haven’t eaten anything that wasn’t out of a vending machine. I know you don’t want my help, but can you just stop for a second and—”

“And what?” you interrupted.

“And think! If you don’t get in there, I’ll drag you in myself.”

Your heart raced, “You wouldn’t dare.”

Rafe stepped closer; his jaw set in determination. “Try me.”

“You’re not coming in."

He blinked like the idea hadn’t even occurred to him. “What?”

Maybe he was seeing the protection you’d built up around yourself since he left, how there was no longer any crack left open for him to slip through.

“I don’t need you. I don’t want you in there.”

“Fine.” His tone was clipped, restrained. “But I’ll be right here.”

You slammed the door shut behind you, not letting him your legs still shaking. You’d rather collapse face-first into the concrete than give him the satisfaction of listening to him. 

“Yeah, you do that,” you replied, turning and walking toward the entrance, refusing to look back.

Stepping inside, you felt a slight tremor run through you—part relief, part panic. The lights were too bright, almost white. Your heart wobbled, replaying how he’d been such a fucking asshole to you.

You’d forgotten how mean he could be, how easily he could go from angry to something so frigid it made you want to cry yourself to sleep.

“Hi there,” The receptionist greeted, her eyes moving over you with a professional once-over, “What brings you in today?”

You forced a small smile, knowing she wouldn’t buy it.

“Just…got a little dehydrated, that’s all.”

“Okay…let’s just get some basic information.” She clicked into her computer, her fingers poised over the keyboard. “Name?”

You cleared your throat, rattling off your full name, she nodded, typing it in.

“Have you experienced any other symptoms besides dizziness?”

“Nothing serious,” you replied, dismissively. “It’s just the heat, like I said. I just need some water and I’ll be good as new.”

This had to be a fucking nightmare you got sucked in, you could sense your blood pressure spike.

She tapped her screen and glanced back at you.

“Alright, Miss Thornton, it looks like we’ll just need a few quick details here to get you all checked in. Can I start with your insurance provider?”

A chuckle almost slipped out of you. Insurance—God, you were fine with insurance. What you weren’t okay with was everything else. You answered, “Blue Cross.”

She asked for your birthdate, which you gave on autopilot, hoping she’d skip any weird or invasive questions. “Any allergies?”

You shook your head. Please, just let this be over. 

“It’s really not a big deal,” You blurted out, giving her a thin smile and forcing calm into your voice. “I just need the IV. You know, standard stuff.”

“Of course, dear. We’ll get things started, it will include routine tests, like bloodwork, just to be safe.”

Bloodwork. Perfect. You were doing everything you could to keep from falling into that spiraling panic mode. 

Please, just get me in, get me out, and don’t find anything.

“Just head down to Room 12.”

All you could think was that you wanted this to be over—before the whole town, or worse, he, found out. It made you want to scream. He was the last person who should be outside.

This was his fault. You’d never be here if he hadn’t shown up.

The next hour passed in seconds—questions, forms, an IV drip.

They’d done blood work, too, but you’d sighed in relief when they’d told you the results wouldn’t be ready immediately. As far as they knew, you’d just overdone it, and now, as you lay on a cot in a room that reeked of sick people, all they’d prescribed was rest, hydration, and food.

When the nurse asked if anyone could pick you up, the thought of calling someone, asking them to see you like this, made you delirious. You didn’t need anyone; you were perfectly fine on your own.

But you also didn’t want Rafe and his delusional ass to barge through the doors.

The nurse moved around you awkwardly, eyes still expectant, as if you were just a button away from a reliable “someone” to come running.

You looked at her, controlling the compulsion to yell. Little people ever bothered to check on you, to show up for more than just the drama or gossip.

Out of them, only one face bounced around in your head.

“Yeah, I got someone.”

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[alsofoundinpeas]

In the Blink of a Lens

Summary: When Spencer Reid finally succumbs to technology and gets a smartphone, he takes a tentative step into the digital world by sending his best friend (and colleague) Y/N a picture. What starts as an innocent attempt to embrace modern tech leaves Y/N flustered as the seemingly innocent gesture forces her to confront feelings she’s been ignoring for years. Neither of them is prepared for the powerful impact of a single, innocent photo as the lines between friendship and something more start to blur.

(AKA Spencer sends the above selfie and reader gets horny because his hand is quite literally swallowing the phone HAHAHA)

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI!! This fic is intended for adult audiences. Hand kink/fixation. Overstimulation. Oral (both m and f receiving). Fingering. Unprotected sex/P in V sex (do as I say not as I do and STAY PROTECTED IRL!!). Dirty talk/praise kink. Softdom!Spencer and bratty!sub!reader. Some religious phrasing (because who are fanfic writers really without it?) Pull-out method used (again, do as I say not as I do!!) Very brief mention of a sex toy (doesn't get used). Fluffy smut. Two idiots in love/best friends to lovers trope. <3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!BAU!reader/afab!reader

A/N: This is my humble contribution to the Spencer Reid hand kink supremacy (no but seriously how are his hands THAT attractive??). This is kinda sorta an AU I guess because I wrote this with season four Reid in mind but I'm not sure (and Google will not give me a clear answer) if that type of iPhone was around then so let's just pretend it was for the sake of the fic pls. :') Also the "Sincerely, Spencer Reid" was a direct nod to B99's very own Raymond Holt because I could definitely see him and Spence handling tech the same way LMAO. As always, please tell me what you think! :) If you enjoy it, please like, reblog, and share it with your friends! <3 Thank you and I love you all :) (I also ask that my work not be uploaded to other platforms or translated without my explicit permission. Thank you!)

Am I doing this selfie thing right? Sincerely, Spencer Reid

The screen felt almost blinding in the dim lighting of Y/N's bedroom as she stared slack-jawed at the image open on her phone.

Spencer finally upgraded to a smartphone a week ago after an unfortunate crash to the ground (stupid raised sidewalk) shattered the old flip phone that had long ago earned him the nickname "Grandpa" from his pain-in-the-ass-loving best friend. Y/N had never seen a man so devastated over losing what was essentially a brick that made calls, so to cheer him up, she helped him pick out a new phone and set it up.

She was beginning to regret that decision as she gawked at the selfie Spencer had sent.

It was sweet—an innocent photo of him sitting in his car, just after finishing the paperwork he’d insisted on handling alone, despite her offers to help. He'd banished her to her apartment, as stubborn as ever. The shot was taken in his rearview mirror, a faint grin tugging at his lips, his maple-toned eyes obscured by the phone. There was nothing about the image that should have made her pulse quicken. But when the realization hit her, a rush of warmth flooded her face.

It was his hand.

His hand seemed almost too big for the phone, dwarfing it as he snapped the picture. It wasn’t that she hadn’t noticed how large his hands were—everyone did—but she’d never given it much thought. Until now. Watching the way his fingers effortlessly swallowed the device, she couldn’t tear her eyes away. There was something about the sheer size of his hand, the way it seemed to overpower the phone, that made her suddenly hyper-aware of every detail.

His fingers were long, elegant, and well-cared-for; fingers that seemed capable of touching parts of her she'd never been able to reach on her own—

No. No, no, no. There was absolutely no way she was having these thoughts about Spencer Reid. Spencer, her endearingly awkward best friend of four years. Her rock. Her partner in the field. The man she’d always thought of as just that—nothing more. Well...

Y/N did have a crush on him once, in the earliest stages of their friendship. But it was just a small, silly, unreciprocated crush that she locked away in the deepest parts of her subconscious so that she could at least still be his friend. She accepted that it would never happen and moved on. Or she thought she had...

A muffled curse leaves Y/N's lips as she realizes she never responded, her thumbs hovering over the keyboard as she struggles to think of a response. Since when has she ever struggled to talk to Spencer? Seriously, what the fuck was wrong with her tonight? Was she ovulating?

Y/N: Next time, show off those pretty brown eyes of yours and you've got it down pat :)

Okay... That sounded way flirtier than she intended... But that's how they usually joked with each other, right? She was just overthinking everything because she was exhausted from their most recent case. That's it.

Y/N: Also... why have you not put your phone case on yet?? You're practically begging for another sidewalk incident to happen, Grandpa.

That's better. That feels normal.

She sets her phone down on her nightstand, picking up her abandoned book to continue reading. Y/N's heart rate is almost back to normal when her phone's ringtone blaring startles her, the book falling to her lap with a muted thud. An annoyed groan rumbles in her throat as she reaches over to grab the device, internally praying it wasn't Hotch calling with another case. They had JUST gotten back from Ohio not even six hours ago and she just wanted to rest—

To her surprise, it was Spencer calling.

"It's awfully late for you to be calling, Grandpa," Y/N drawled as she answered the call, her lips curling up into a grin as she heard Spencer scoff on the other line. "Shouldn't you be in bed by now?"

"I am in bed," Spencer grumbled in response, and she could hear some shuffling as he got comfortable. "And I put the case on right after I sent the selfie, thank you very much. Speaking of, did you know that the origin of selfies was actually believed to be..."

Spencer launched into a thorough explanation of not only the origins of selfies but also a detailed account of why self-portraits came about. Y/N hung onto every word, just as she always did when he spoke. Most people found his rambling to be annoying, but not her. She thought it was fascinating how much information he kept tucked away in that brain of his and was more than willing to listen and ask questions about anything he blurted out.

The conversation stretches on for another hour, neither of them wanting to be the one to end it. It’s not until the fifth yawn escapes Spencer that Y/N finally chuckles into the phone before reluctantly saying goodnight. Spencer’s voice is warm as he wishes her sweet dreams, and the call ends with the soft beep of disconnecting. And, for the first time in a long while, sweet dreams she did have…

"Does that feel good? Hm, pretty girl?" Spencer murmured into her ear as she writhed between his spread legs, her bare back pressed flush to his clothed chest.

The night had started with celebratory drinks after finally closing one of their more grueling cases, the team getting some much-needed relaxation and bonding in. Spencer was Y/N's designated driver as per usual since he didn't drink, instead choosing to nurse a soda as he eyed Y/N down from across the booth.

He was directly across from her, snugly between Derek and Hotch. But he wasn't paying attention to them. His eyes had been fixated on her from the moment she'd come back from the bar with Emily and Penelope, tracing the contours of her flushed face as she tipped her head back and took another shot.

Y/N had no intentions of getting completely drunk, instead choosing to remain just tipsy enough to enjoy the warmth that flowed through her body from the alcohol and maintain a steady buzz. That way she could be aware of her surroundings while also enjoying herself and the company of her team.

The bar was dim, the pounding of her heartbeat matching the beat of the music bumping overhead as her gaze fell on Spencer. Her brows furrowed at the unabashedly hungry look in his eyes, her tongue poking out to wet her lips subconsciously. She had to have been hallucinating. There was no way he'd be looking at her like that... right?

But he had been. And that same look is exactly what led them to where they were now, with Spencer propped up against her headboard holding her at his mercy while his fingers pumped tirelessly into her drenched pussy. She was sure the sight of them was downright filthy, an erotic contrast of her completely bare body pressed against his fully clothed one.

Y/N was in shambles, her legs trembling as her nails dug uselessly into his thighs while soft whimpers and moans flowed freely from her kiss-swollen lips. Her mind was reeling, a dizzying mixture of the remaining alcohol in her system, the pleasure coiling tightly in her lower stomach, and the knowledge that it was Spencer causing said pleasure.

She was so, so close... just a few more strokes of his fingers and...

A sharp gasp sounded through the bedroom as Y/N jolted awake, her chest heaving as she shakily sat up to turn off her alarm. She blinked hard, attempting to clear the fog from her vision as she fell back into her pillows. The dull aching between her thighs served as a sore reminder of what she was so close to achieving in her dream...

Her eyes snapped open as the memory of the dream hit her like a tidal wave. Guilt, confusion, and sheer horror crashed over her, and she groaned, her hands dragging down her face in frustrated disbelief. She’d just had a dream—a wet dream—about Spencer Fucking Reid.

What had gotten into her?

Before she could dive too deep into why her crush on Spencer had apparently resurfaced with a vengeance after being dormant for so long, her phone dinged with a message from the genius himself. It felt like the universe was rubbing salt in the wound, taunting her for the forbidden thoughts she couldn’t seem to shake about her best friend.

Spence <3: Are you going to get coffee? Sincerely, Spencer Reid

Y/N snorted out a laugh at how he signed his text, shaking her head as she responded.

Y/N: ... Spence, you don't have to sign your name on each text. I have your number saved. And yes, I am :)

A minute passes before his response comes through.

Spence <3: Oh. Well then, can you also bring me coffee please?

Y/N: Of course I can <3

Her earlier guilt lingers in the pit of her stomach as she sets the phone down, rolling out of bed with a sigh to begin getting ready for work. How was she going to face him after having a dream like that? Maybe it was a fluke; a one-off occurrence manifested from her lack of sexual endeavors so her brain had no choice but to use Spencer as a fill-in for her fantasies.

Opting to pretend it never happened so she could face her best friend later, Y/N finished getting ready and left for the café, determined to get there on time for work.

The elevator dinged as Y/N strolled into the bullpen, her and Spencer's usual orders in hand and a soft smile on her face. Thankfully, today was a paperwork day—a task most of the team dreaded, but one Y/N welcomed. It gave her a chance to recover from the constant motion sickness from the jet and the relentless flirtations of the officers when they worked cases out of state.

"Mm, my very own coffee fairy!" Spencer grinned, setting down the stack of papers he’d been poring over. His eyes sparkled as she made her way across the room, finally meeting his gaze from across the desk as she stopped in front of him. "Have I ever told you you're the best?"

"Yes, you have," Y/N teased with a playful grin, holding out his coffee. "But I don’t mind hearing it more often."

Her dream, it seemed, hadn’t been a fluke, a realization that hits her as Spencer grabs his coffee. Her eyes involuntarily track the way his fingers curl around the Styrofoam cup, and a shiver runs up her spine when they inadvertently brush against hers. Her cheeks flush as she quickly pulls her gaze away, meeting his curious eyes instead.

"You feeling okay, Y/N? You look a little flushed," Spencer murmured, his brow furrowed in concern as he eyed her over the rim of his cup.

Y/N blinked, her heart pounding in her throat as she swallowed and nodded. The sight had sent her mind reeling, the memory of those same fingers buried deep inside of her in her dream the night before surfacing against her will.

"Y-yeah. Yeah, I'm fine I just-"

Before Y/N could finish stammering out her lame excuse, Morgan sauntered into the bullpen with Garcia, the pair immediately honing in on her and Spencer as they made their way over.

"Oh, c'mon Y/N! Seriously? Pretty boy here gets a coffee but the rest of us don't?" Morgan taunted, chuckling as Y/N reached out to playfully swat at his arm with an eye roll.

"Well obviously! He's her work husband," Penelope chimed in matter-of-factly, giggling as she wiggled her eyebrows. "It would mean a divorce was brewing if she didn't."

The team had started the joke years ago, teasing her and Spencer for being the youngest members and for how quickly they’d clicked. To everyone else, it was obvious their friendship ran deeper than either of the two realized. The problem was that neither one of them could see it. Some profilers they were.

No matter how many times the joke was made, Spencer’s face still turned bright red every single time.

"Har dee har har," Spencer scoffed, his eyes shifting to the cup still gripped in his hand.

The banter was cut short as Hotch stepped out of his office, everyone mumbling their goodbyes and scurrying back to their desks to get their work done. Y/N welcomed the distraction with open arms, diving into her work to try to get her mind off of her conflicted feelings towards her best friend.

All day long, Y/N fought the growing urge to watch Spencer’s hands, but it was impossible to ignore. Her eyes were drawn to the way his fingers traced the edge of a case file as he analyzed it, or how they drummed a steady rhythm on his desk, each tap somehow amplifying the tension she was trying to suppress.

Her breaking point came when the team was wrapping up for the day. Spencer, eager to show off, insisted on demonstrating a new cardistry trick he’d learned. The rest of the team gathered around, and Y/N felt herself drawn in, unable to look away. Her eyes locked on his fingers as he deftly manipulated the cards, the muscles in his hands flexing with each smooth, controlled movement. She barely registered her open mouth or the way her pulse quickened—every part of her attention was on him.

Y/N was jolted back to reality when Emily nudged her, a raised eyebrow full of amusement as the rest of the team cheered and complimented Spencer on his newly acquired skill. Rather than meet Emily’s knowing look, Y/N quickly murmured her praise for Spencer, then hastily made her exit, claiming she needed to hit a store before it closed.

If she thought that day was bad, the next few weeks were hell.

The BAU had two back-to-back cases, leaving them no time to rest as they flew straight from Tennessee to Arizona. The dry heat seemed to make Spencer restless—constantly running his fingers through his hair, fidgeting with his watch, or rolling up his sleeves. Meanwhile, Y/N felt her sanity slipping away, her thoughts unraveling as she stumbled over her words or completely lost track of what she was saying—because she couldn’t stop staring at those goddamned hands.

Spencer wasn’t blind to the shift in her behavior. He’d noticed how she started to occupy herself with something whenever he entered the room, or how she became increasingly uneasy around him—spinning the rings on her fingers, tugging at the necklace he'd given her for her last birthday, or even finding reasons to leave the room entirely the moment he stepped in.

Y/N's usual teasing had begun to feel hollow, and the familiar touches she used to give him—guiding him gently by the hand, rubbing his shoulder when frustration set in, or planting an exaggerated kiss on his cheek before leaving—had completely disappeared.

He felt gutted, unable to think of a single reason for Y/N's sudden distance. The uncertainty gnawed at him, twisting his stomach with worry. What if she was tired of him? Or worse… what if she had finally seen through his feelings for her and was repulsed by them?

When the team wrapped up in Arizona and boarded the jet home, Spencer made up his mind.

After Y/N chose to sit next to Emily instead of her usual spot beside him, he couldn’t take it anymore. The not knowing was eating at him, and more than anything… he missed her. She was the one person who saw him for who he truly was, the one who understood him better than he understood himself. The one who brought him solace during the toughest cases and reminded him why he kept going. The thought of losing her was unbearable, and he promised himself he’d do whatever it took to fix whatever had gone wrong.

As soon as the jet touched down in Quantico, Y/N quickly muttered her goodbyes and made a beeline for the parking garage. Finally, she was free. Free to go home, shut herself off, and stop behaving like a complete mess around Spencer. She hated how distant she’d been, but she couldn’t help it. The weight of her obsessive thoughts about him and the feelings she’d tried to bury for so long had completely overridden her rational thoughts, leaving her acting out of control.

Fingers closed around her upper arm just inches from her car, and a sharp yelp escaped her lips. She spun around, startled, to find an equally surprised Spencer standing there. She had been so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she hadn't heard him following her.

"Jesus, Grandpa! Make an announcement before you sneak up on people!" Y/N complained loudly, turning away from him to unlock her car and toss her go bag into the backseat.

Spencer couldn't help but feel some relief at the nickname, a surge of hope coursing through him. Grandpa. She hadn't called him that in almost two weeks. He cleared his throat, holding onto his courage as he finally addressed her recent behavior.

"Sorry! Sorry, I just— I wanted to make sure we were okay? I’ve noticed you’ve been acting… not like yourself lately. Not that I’m calling you weird or anything—"

Y/N's heart broke at the nervous rambling spewing from his lips as he stood before her, tucked into himself and fidgeting with his hands as he tried to speak. God, she was such an asshole.

"Spence," Y/N murmured, gently interrupting him before letting out a soft sigh. "I promise, we're fine. I’m sorry if I’ve seemed distant. It’s just… I’ve been so stressed with the cases, and compartmentalizing has been harder than usual. I guess I didn’t want to drag you into it. I’m really sorry."

It wasn't necessarily a lie. She really had been stressed and struggling with compartmentalizing... just not because of their job.

Spencer’s shoulders relaxed, his tense expression softening into one of understanding. “You know I’m always here for you, right? You don’t have to carry that burden alone. I’d much rather you let me in than struggle with it on your own."

Scratch that. She wasn't just an asshole. She was the biggest asshole in the world for making him feel the way he had.

"I know that. I really do," Y/N murmured, her fingers nervously playing with her lip. "It's just… I get way too independent sometimes." She sighed, then brightened. "How about this? Tomorrow’s our first Saturday off in over a month… Why don’t you come over and we can do a movie marathon? We could use some good 'work spouse' bonding, don’t you think?"

Spencer’s smile stretched across his face, his voice a little more eager than usual and his cheeks flushed. "Yeah, I'd, uh... I'd love that. Let's do it."

Y/N returned his grin, her heart fluttering from how excited he looked. Relief flooded through her veins as he agreed to her plans, not realizing how much she had truly missed him the past few weeks since she'd been so focused on trying not to gawk at him every five minutes.

"Perfect. It’s a date,” Y/N teased, her smile widening. “Now, get in. I’m not letting you take the train back this late."

"What? Isn't this what you wanted, sweetheart?" Spencer crooned into her ear, tightening his hold around her wrists as he kept them pinned above her head.

Another frustrated whine left her lips as she tugged uselessly against his hold, but they both knew she didn't actually want to slip free. One of his hands was wrapped tightly around both of her wrists, his other tracing maddeningly up and down her side.

"Or did you want Officer Davidson's hands on you instead?" His tone was taunting, a hint of jealousy tainting his words as he tightened his grip.

The moment they stepped into their shared hotel room after leaving the precinct, Spencer was all over her. She’d noticed the heated glares he shot her way while she stood across the room, wearing a bored expression as Officer Davidson repeatedly (and unsuccessfully) tried to flirt with her.

They hadn't announced their new relationship status to the team yet per Spencer's insistence, but it was obvious from the intensity in Spencer’s eyes that he wanted to shout it to the world now. The way he glared at Davidson made it clear he was ready to stake his claim, watching the officer eye her like prey.

Now they were here, with Spencer hellbent on making sure she understood that she was his.

Y/N shook her head, looking up at Spencer pleadingly as she tilted her hips up in search of his. "No, never. Only want you, Spence."

A dark chuckle escaped him as he smirked down at her, his hand, which had been trailing along her side, now cupping her chin. His fingers gently squeezed her cheeks, coaxing her lips into a pout.

"Only me? Is that right, sweet girl?" Spencer cooed, loosening his grip to press on her bottom lip with his thumb before sliding the digit into her mouth. "Because it sure looked like you were enjoying his attention."

The flushed head of his cock teased her entrance, pressing between her folds as his hips slowly rocked back and forth, prolonging her teasing instead of giving her what she wanted. She groaned around his thumb, sucking the digit further into her mouth and holding his gaze in an effort to tempt him into finally fucking her instead of just grinding against her.

A soft hiss fell from his lips as his gaze darkened. He shifted his weight above her, keeping her wrists clasped in his hand and shoving them into the mattress as he began to rut against her harder. Her sharp gasp sounded through the air as he angled his hips up, the tip of his cock dipping into her deliciously before he halted his movements, keeping only a few inches inside of her.

Y/N writhed beneath him, whimpering her protests around his thumb as her jaw slackened, muffled pleas spilling from her lips as she began to beg uselessly for him to just fuck her already.

Spencer pressed down on her tongue with his thumb, a grunt escaping him before he yanked his thumb out of her mouth, using the hand to pin her down instead.

"Be still—"

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, the harsh light of morning pouring through her curtains, and she let out a disgruntled groan as she blindly searched for her phone on the nightstand. After weeks of peaceful, dreamless sleep, of course she would dream about Spencer the night before their hangout. Wait—

Y/N sat up abruptly, unlocking her phone to check the time, only to notice a message waiting for her on the lock screen.

Spence <3: I’ll be there in an hour with a surprise.

Sent twenty-three minutes ago.

Fuck. She'd completely forgotten to set an alarm to get ready for their movie marathon, despite being the one who had suggested it in the first place. Whatever brain cells that photo had scrambled in her brain needed to get a grip so she could function on a level above Neanderthal.

Y/N: Surprise? You spoil me, old man. I'll see you then :)

Y/N exhaled wearily, rolling out of bed and dragging her feet across the plush carpet. She shuffled over to her dresser, picking out an outfit consisting of black yoga pants and an old band tee before heading to the bathroom for a cold shower. Maybe it would clear her head—or at least get rid of the incessant aching between her thighs. It worked on men, right?

One miserable shower and a change of clothes later, Y/N finally managed to clear some of the fog clouding her mind. She darted around her apartment, tidying up in a flurry before Spencer arrived. Moving between the kitchen and the living room, she gathered everything for their movie marathon: a pile of 90's slasher films spread out on the coffee table, her biggest throw blanket draped across the sectional, and a bag of popcorn popping away in the microwave.

Spencer's signature knock rang through the apartment at the same time the microwave started beeping, signaling that the popcorn was done.

"Coming!" Y/N shouted from the kitchen, opening the microwave door so it wouldn't repeat the shrill noise before making her way to the front door.

She swings it open with an excited grin, her gaze immediately dropping to the bag in Spencer's hand. She beckons for Spencer to come in, trying to sneak a peek at what was in the slightly crinkled paper bag.

"Geez, don't look too excited to see me," Spencer chuckled, following Y/N into her kitchen.

She waved dismissively, laughing softly as she grabbed the bag of popcorn and a bowl to pour it into. Spencer sat the bag on the counter, finally revealing its contents as he pulled out a tub of ice cream and some sour gummy worms.

"A man after my own heart!" Y/N gasped with an exaggerated swoon, cackling as Spencer swatted at her playfully.

"You said you were stressed, and I know you’ve got a sweet tooth just like me, so I figured it’d be perfect for our movie marathon," Spencer said with a shrug, the faintest blush creeping up his neck.

That kind of thoughtful behavior was just another reason her emotions had been in turmoil for the past few weeks. The selfie had opened a door to a spiral of introspection, one that made her revisit every moment they’d shared. She had always known their friendship straddled the line between platonic and something more, but she’d convinced herself it was simply because they were so comfortable with one another. It wasn’t until now that she began to wonder if those boundaries had been blurred intentionally — if, deep down, they both had wanted more all along.

The movie marathon kicked off after a bit of grumbling from Spencer, who finally gave in to watching the cheesy slasher films he’d insisted were beneath him. A few awkward moments of shifting on the couch later, they settled into a comfortable spot—Y/N tucked into his side, both of them with snacks in their laps and the throw blanket wrapped around them, ready to dive into the horror-filled lineup.

As they settled into the movie, Spencer’s gaze lingered on Y/N for a moment too long. He noticed the drip of vanilla ice cream at the corner of her mouth, the sight causing an unwelcome tightness in his pants. Before he could stop himself, he reached over. His thumb gently swiped the sugary trail now pooling along her lower lip, a soft swipe that left his hand lingering a fraction of a second longer than necessary.

"Here, you've got a little..."

The words died in his throat as her lips wrapped around his thumb, both of their eyes widening as their gaze met.

In that moment, everything fell into place for Spencer. It wasn’t stress that had been driving her distant behavior—he realized with a sudden jolt—it was something else entirely. The way she'd been pulling away, the tension between them… it wasn’t just exhaustion or anxiety. No, it was something far more complicated. It was desire.

Y/N jerked backward, nearly sending all of their precariously placed snacks to the floor as her face burned with embarrassment. "Oh, my God I- I'm so sorry Spence," she stammered, her words tripping over each other. "I have no idea why I did that-"

"Y/N."

Spencer cut her off with a hushed murmur of her name, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she stopped her nervous rambling.

"It's okay. I-I liked it," Spencer reassured her softly.

Y/N stared at him, dumbfounded.

"What?"

"I liked it."

Spencer repeated himself surely, but the tremble in his voice gave away the fact that his brave front was exactly that: a front.

"I—" He hesitated, a heavy sigh escaping him. His hands fumbled with the snacks for a moment, setting them carefully on the coffee table as if buying time. He finally turned to face her fully, the weight of his words settling in. "Y/N… I've been in love with you since the moment I met you. I never said anything because I was scared… scared you wouldn’t feel the same. And after everything these past few weeks, with you pulling away, I thought maybe you’d figured it out and hated me for it. But… maybe I was wrong. Maybe you actually feel the same way I do..."

Y/N’s mouth parted in shock, her mouth opening and closing like she wanted to say something—anything—but the words just wouldn’t come. Spencer loved her. He always had. And she had spent all this time convincing herself her feelings were one-sided, certain he couldn’t possibly feel the same way.

Spencer's voice wavered as he spoke, his eyes searching hers with a quiet intensity. "Please, tell me I was wrong. Tell me you feel the same." His words hung in the air, and he held his breath, waiting, afraid that his confession might have been the thing to push her away for good.

The raw vulnerability in his voice broke through the fog in her mind, and without thinking, she nodded quickly, the words tumbling from her lips before she could stop them.

"Yes! Yes, Spence, I feel the same way," she breathed, her voice shaky as she looked up at him, eyes wide with a mix of relief and disbelief. "I always have… I just… I convinced myself it was impossible. I never thought you could feel the same."

A soft laugh escaped him, his grin widening as he wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. "How could I not, Y/N?" he murmured, his voice low and sincere. "You’re everything to me. You’re the reason I started believing in soulmates… because I know I’ll never find anyone more perfectly made for me than you. You’re it. Always have been."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at his words, her eyes welling up involuntarily. No one had ever spoken to her with such reverence, and in that moment, she realized she held him in the same regard. But where Spencer's words were so effortlessly beautiful, hers often fell short. So, instead of trying to find the right ones, she chose to show him just how deeply he mattered to her.

Within seconds, her lips were on his, her hands gently cradling his face as she pulled him closer. Spencer surrendered to the kiss, his hands sliding to her waist, mirroring her movements and pulling her in.

It started as a slow, hesitant kiss that rapidly devolved into something more desperate as the weight of years of silent longing melted away between them. What Y/N couldn't articulate into words she poured into touch, threading her trembling fingers into his soft hair and tugging, urging him to hover over her as she laid back against the couch. Her lips moved against his fiercely, trying to convey the silent message that she was just as in love with him as he was with her.

The movie had long since faded into the background, its faint dialogue and sporadic screams now an odd soundtrack blending with the muffled whimpers and soft pants that filled the space between them as their hands began to roam. Spencer's hips were nestled between hers, unmoving and stiff as he tried not to mindlessly hump against her like an animal in heat.

Y/N noticed Spencer's rigidness, breaking the kiss to look up at him with a furrowed brow. "What's wrong?" She breathed out, propping up on her elbows and brushing their noses together. "Are we moving too fast? We can stop if you want, I-I'm sorry—"

"No!" Spencer borderline shouted in his haste to ease the insecurity he saw creeping into her eyes, his face flushing as he cleared his throat. "No, no that's not it at all. I just, um... I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. I wasn't sure how far you wanted this to go."

Y/N’s shoulders relaxed, a small frown giving way to a playful smirk. She idly twisted the loose curls at the nape of his neck between her fingers, her gaze locking with his.

"I want you, Spence. All of you. If that's what you want, too."

Spencer's nod was immediate, his forehead almost knocking into hers, causing her to laugh at his eagerness. "God, yes. I want that, so much. I want you so much."

Y/N grinned as she tilted her head to brush their lips together, landing a chaste kiss on his mouth before she tugged him down, leaning forward to whisper into his ear. "Yeah? You wanna fuck me, Spence?"

He inhaled sharply through his nose, his eyes fluttering shut as his head fell into the crook of her neck. If he were younger, he probably would have just cum in his pants from her words alone. But he was a man now. A barely composed man who was dizzy from the intoxicating scent of her perfume crowding his nose and the most painful erection he's had since puberty straining against his slacks.

"Such a crude mouth you have," Spencer murmured in feigned disappointment, shaking his head before pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses to the skin of her neck. "Maybe I should fill it up until you learn some manners, hm?"

He traced the fingers of his right hand up her side as he pulled back enough to look into her eyes, his left hand pressed into the cushions to keep him from laying all his body weight onto her. He'd caught her lingering glances at his hands throughout the last few weeks. He just hadn't been sure why she'd been staring at them so hard... but now? Now, he knew exactly why she'd been so fixated on them, and he planned to use that to his advantage.

The whimper that slipped from Y/N's lips as Spencer slid two fingers into her gaping mouth confirmed his suspicions, the shit-eating grin on his face growing wide as he pressed the digits down against her tongue. She began to suck at his fingers eagerly, the feeling of her tongue laving over them making his body tremble in anticipation.

His hips began to rock against hers, slowly grinding against her aching core as he pressed kisses up and down the side of her neck. Once he was satisfied with his teasing, he pulled his fingers from her mouth with a slick 'pop', replacing them with his tongue as he kissed her deeply.

Y/N’s mind whirled, both surprised and intrigued by the sudden shift in his demeanor, captivated by how effortlessly he stepped into control. It wasn’t what she’d anticipated at all. She’d seen glimpses of this side of him—brief moments in the field or during interrogations—but never like this. The man before her was assured and confident, a stark contrast to his usual, endearing awkwardness.

Their kiss grew hungry as Spencer continued where they had left off before, his hands sliding under the hem of her shirt and bunching the fabric as they trailed up. He broke the kiss long enough to help her out of the shirt, tossing it somewhere in the direction of the TV before capturing her lips once more. He was a man ravenous, consumed by the sweetness of her lips, and even the seconds it took to remove her t-shirt felt like an unbearable eternity without them.

Her hands were just as busy as his, dragging down his clothed chest before finding the button of his slacks in the cramped space between them. Her fingers fumbled with the button blindly, and her movements faltered when his teeth gently tugged at her lower lip.

"Off," Y/N whined indignantly against his mouth, tugging frustratedly at the button. "Take them off."

Spencer obliged, helpless to her commands as he sat back on his heels, easily undoing the pesky button that was keeping her from what she wanted. She went to sit up to help with his zipper, but in her rush to get his pants off, she didn't realize just how close his knee was to the edge of the cushion.

The motion knocked his knee outwards, a surprised yelp leaving his lips as he instinctively reached out for her to steady himself, but it was too late.

A startled squeal slipped from Y/N as they both tumbled to the floor, landing with a muted thud on the plush carpet. Spencer’s hands shot to her waist, his eyes wide as he glanced up at her, now sprawled on top of him, her laughter filling the air at their unexpected fall. He joined her, chuckling loudly.

They were a perfect chaos—rumpled clothes, kiss-swollen lips, tangled hair, and eyes full of love. But neither of them minded, because they finally had what they’d both been yearning for all this time: each other.

The fall did little to curb their desire for each other. Y/N ducked her head, pressing her lips to Spencer's with renewed vigor as her hands slipped underneath his sweater. She giggled as he squirmed underneath her touch.

"You're such a wiggle worm!" Y/N huffed, pulling back just enough to let the words slip free into the air between them as she lifted the sweater up and over his head.

Spencer scoffed, his own hands slipping beneath the waistband of her yoga pants and shoving them down her legs. "I can't help that your hands feel like ice!"

A quiet hiss left her lips at the feeling of his equally cold hands brushing against the skin of her thighs. She wriggled on top of him, kicking off the remaining fabric that had wrapped around her feet.

"So do yours, but you don't see me acting like a baby about it!"

"Oh, I'll show you a baby—"

Y/N cackled as Spencer rolled them over, hovering above her once more with a cheeky grin and soft chuckles. He bombarded her with kisses all over her face and collarbones, ignoring her hands swatting at him playfully as he continued his attack. Soon his pants joined the growing pile of clothes near the entertainment center, the soft glow of the TV illuminating the room as the final scenes of the forgotten movie played out. His hands made swift work of removing her bra, leaving her lying underneath him in only her lacy underwear.

Their laughter died out as they stared into each other's eyes, the weight of what was about to change—what had already changed—settling over them. But fear didn’t touch them. There was no reason for it. This was always meant to be; written in the stars, woven into their destiny long before they existed.

Spencer closed the gap between them, kissing Y/N tenderly as he lowered himself just enough for their bare chests to press together and their hips to align perfectly. A sigh escaped her at the feeling of his hardened cock grinding against her, the thin fabric of his boxers and her soaked panties doing little to conceal what lay beneath.

Neither of them had ever pictured their first time unfolding on the living room floor, but in a way, it made the moment even more unforgettable. It was a testament to how desperately they wanted each other—so much that they’d choose the roughness of the carpet and rug burns over the luxury of her bed to avoid the few minutes apart it would take to get to her room.

"You're sure you want this?"

Spencer broke the kiss, his eyes tracing hers for any trace of hesitation or doubt. Y/N's lips curved into a faint smile as she reached up to caress his face. Her thumb stroked the skin of his cheekbone as she nodded.

"More than anything."

The look in her eyes told him that she was being completely honest. That was all the confirmation he needed. His shaky hands found the edges of the lace adorning her hips, inching his body down as he tugged the soaked-through fabric down her legs.

Y/N's face scrunched in confusion as Spencer moved lower, her brows furrowing as he pressed a kiss to her knee. "What are you-"

Her words cut off with a sharp moan as Spencer latched his mouth to her clit, her head tipping back against the floor as her hands buried themselves into his disheveled strands. Her back arched as her legs spread instinctively, making room for him as he began to devour her. He shifted, grabbing ahold of her thighs and placing them over his shoulders as his tongue alternated between teasing kitten licks and long, drawn-out laps up and down her pussy.

Y/N struggled to open her eyes, peering down at him as pleasure began to flood her veins. The sight of his hands—those beautiful goddamned hands that had inadvertently caused this to happen— gripping her thighs hard enough to leave bruises had her mouth hanging open, small whimpers and moans flowing freely into the open space.

"You taste exquisite, sweetheart. So, so good," Spencer mumbled against her slick skin before sucking her clit into his mouth gently.

Y/N cried out, writhing underneath him as the pleasure in her lower stomach began to build rapidly. A loud groan wrenched itself from her throat as Spencer grabbed her hips, pinning them to the ground as he continued to ravage her in a way that rendered her useless.

"You can take it, pretty girl," Spencer cooed, placing a kiss on her clit before one of his hands left her hip to trace her folds. "Cum for me so I can fuck you so good you'll never want anyone else again."

Who the fuck taught him how to talk like that?

Y/N couldn’t speak to tell him that she’d never want anyone else anyways; that he was etched into her very soul, and every part of her would forever long for his touch and his touch alone. She cried out as his middle finger prodded at her entrance before slipping inside, her orgasm so close she could almost taste it.

Spencer moaned against her from how little resistance her walls had against the intrusion, immediately adding his ring finger to the mix. He thrusted them into her hard, curling the lithe digits in search of that rough patch of skin that would give him what he wanted. It took all of three strokes before he found it, his mouth forming a smirk as she gripped his hair and yanked, grinding her hips up into his mouth as she thrashed beneath him.

"Spence! Fuck, I-I'm cumming—"

Y/N barely uttered the words before her climax seized her, her toes curling as her vision whitened and the world shattered around her. She could vaguely register Spencer's sweet voice coaxing her through it, his forehead now pressed to hers as his fingers continued to gently thrust into her through the aftershocks. Only when she was trembling and weakly shoving at his wrist did he finally stop his movements, his lips meeting hers in a series of soft kisses as her chest heaved beneath him.

"Yeah?" He murmured with a smug grin, pulling back to smooth her hair away from her damp face with his clean hand as she stared up at him in bewilderment.

Spencer Reid had just caused her to cum harder than she ever had in her life. Spencer—the same Spencer that was too shy to look her in the eyes for a solid month after first meeting her— just made her cum so hard she almost blacked out. She understood why he was a man of magic now... and it had nothing to do with the novelty tricks he was always showing off.

"Yeah," Y/N whispered in response, still reeling from her orgasm.

If that was the type of climax she could reach simply from his tongue and fingers, she was convinced that she'd never actually experienced one with anyone else.

"Do you want to stop there? Or do you want to keep going?"

Spencer's voice was soft as he stared at the gorgeous woman beneath him. He found it ironic that he was already kneeling between her thighs because that had now become his place of worship. His redemption came in the form of her essence, dripping from his fingers as they rested against her hip. He'd never need anything else as long as he had her.

"Keep going. I want to keep going," Y/N pleaded softly, her hands reaching for his boxers. "Just—c'mere. Wanna taste you before you fuck me brainless. Please?"

A pitiful whine left Spencer’s lips as he felt his composure crack slightly. He wasn’t prepared for her to practically beg to suck his cock. He found himself nodding mindlessly, his hands going to help her strip him of his boxers before he remembered the mess still clinging to his fingers.

“Clean these for me first, sweet girl. Then you can.”

Spencer brought his fingers up to her lips, watching in amazement as she obeyed without a fuss. She even went as far as moaning while she licked his fingers clean of her, holding his gaze while she did. Y/N knew what she did to him. She knew he was just as affected by her as she was him. And she reveled in it.

Once he deemed them clean enough, he pulled them from her mouth before ridding himself of the last shred of fabric between them. The second that Spencer was bare before her, she pounced. Her hands pushed at his chest, urging him to lie back as she crawled on top of him.

“You’re so pretty, Spence,” Y/N breathed dazedly, pecking his lips before trailing her kisses down his chest. “God… look at you.”

Spencer flushed bright red while she continued to murmur her praises as she gripped the base of him, his cock twitching in her hand.

He had never been particularly confident—growing up as a child prodigy in a Las Vegas public school had stripped him of any sense of self-worth before it had a chance to take root. Unlike Morgan, he didn’t have the muscles or the easy charm with women. He could count the number of sexual encounters he’d had on one hand. His dates rarely progressed beyond the first, driven away by his nervous rambling and the unpredictable demands of his job.

The only way Spencer even knew how to make Y/N feel so good was because he had studied every piece of material he could find on the intricacies of female anatomy and sexual pleasure on the off chance one of his dates would blossom into something more than an uncomfortable hook-up and dash situation. It also helped that he’d pined after her since he’d known her, that longing translating into a dire need to make her feel the best she ever had because that’s what she deserved. She deserved to feel pleasure in its purest form, to feel cherished and worshipped because that’s how precious she was to him.

And in this moment, as she gazed at him with the kind of reverence that made it seem as though he was the center of her universe, Spencer believed that maybe, just maybe, he deserved to feel that way too.

His fingers grasped helplessly at the carpet beneath him as her beautiful lips wrapped around the flushed head of his arousal, a muffled curse falling into the air as she swirled her tongue around him. Y/N smirked around her mouthful, her eyes glinting with amusement as she inhaled through her nose and pushed lower, taking him into the back of her throat. The gag that she emitted from the motion had his hips jerking up, a flurry of apologies spewing from his mouth.

Instead of responding verbally, she simply grabbed his hands and guided them to her hair, encouraging him to take hold and move her as he pleased. Once he threaded his hands through her hair, she continued. Her own hands planted firmly on his thighs as she began to bob her head around what she could fit, a soft hum vibrating around his length as her eyes fluttered shut.

Spencer was speechless— absolutely floored as he stared slack-jawed at the woman moaning around his cock like she was the one receiving pleasure from it. He gave an experimental tug of her hair, his head falling back with a thunk as she moaned louder and moved faster. It was as though she were unraveling his very soul with her tongue, hurtling him towards an orgasm he didn’t want to have just yet.

“Y-Y/N wait I— ngh!” Spencer groaned, his grip on her hair tightening unintentionally as he tried to pull her off of him. “I won’t be able to fuck you if you make me cum down your throat, pretty girl. P-please—“

Y/N whined in protest but finally eased herself off of his cock, a trail of spit bridging her lower lip to the head of him as she stared up at him with watery eyes and swollen lips.

Spencer felt delirious as he took in the sight. It was something he’d dreamed about (albeit guiltily) for years, and having the real thing in front of him was infinitely better than anything his subconscious had conjured up during those restless nights. She was a vision; a work of art that deserved to have a museum dedicated to her and her alone.

“Oh, don’t pout. Unless you don’t want to be fucked anymore?” Spencer chuckled breathlessly, arching a brow as she moved to straddle him. His hands found their way to her waist, a shudder running down his spine as she settled over him.

“If you won’t fuck me… I have a pretty nice dildo in my bedside drawer that should do the trick,” Y/N hummed coyly, dragging her heat across the length of him with a soft sigh.

Spencer’s eyes darkened at that, his grip on her hips tightening to put a halt to her subtle movements.

“Yeah? You think it’d make you feel better than I could?”

Y/N swallowed hard, the aching between her legs starting to override her logical thinking. She knew the answer he was looking for; the answer that would give her exactly what she wanted. But she decided to be a smartass instead.

“Maybe,” She answered with a shrug, nibbling at her lower lip as she tried to fight against his hold to get the friction she craved.

“Go get it then.”

Spencer leaned forward, his nose brushing hers as she sat in his lap, a challenge in his gaze. He knew she wouldn’t—she was getting restless, just like him. But if this was the game she wanted to play, he was determined to win.

Panic spread across Y/N’s face at the cold, indifferent look in his eyes. Her hands rested on his shoulders, her frown betraying the sinking realization of the hole she’d dug for herself. They were both ridiculously competitive, so why she’d started this—rather than just admitting how badly she wanted him buried inside her—was beyond her.

“I was kidding,” Y/N huffed, tilting forward in an attempt to capture his lips.

Spencer leaned back, keeping his lips just out of reach. He shook his head, smirking softly. “Nope. Either go get it, or say you’re sorry.”

Y/N hesitated, frowning as she weighed her options. She wanted him so badly it hurt. But pride was a hell of a thing. She knew he wouldn’t back down. Normally, she wouldn’t either. But his cock was pressed so deliciously against her clit that she decided it would be more than worth it to lose just this once.

“I’m sorry,” She mumbled, barely audible.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

Spencer’s taunting made her groan in frustration before she sighed and tried again.

“I said I’m sorry—“

He shifted them so that his back was against the couch, her knees on both sides of his hips digging into the carpet hard enough that he was certain it would sting once they started. He’d make sure to take care of her afterward, though. He gazed up at her with adoration, thoroughly enjoying how needy she'd become. Her breath hitched as he adjusted his hips, the head of his cock pressing against her entrance.

“One more time, hm?” Spencer coaxed, his hands now rubbing up and down her sides but still holding her tight enough that she couldn't rock against him. If he was honest, his resolve had crumbled as quickly as hers, but he couldn’t help from teasing her for just a little longer.

“I’m sorry!” Y/N cried out, her forehead pressing against his as she whimpered. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Spencer finally pressed a kiss to her lips before pulling back, his lips brushing against hers as he crooned. “Good girl, baby. Thank you.”

Hearing the praise fall so easily from his mouth had Y/N canting her hips down eagerly, willing to do whatever he wanted just so she could hear his sweet words over and over again. Her determination didn’t waver, her hips pushing down insistently. Spencer’s hold on her waist faltered, and for a brief moment, gravity claimed its victory.

A startled gasp slipped from her lips as the tip of his cock pushed into her, followed by a guttural moan that had Spencer's ears ringing as he cursed loudly. She had been so used to his hold that she wasn't prepared to support herself, his hands having barely caught her from dropping completely. He immediately yanked her up, the cool air against his skin a shock after having felt her warmth for the first time.

“God—fuck!" Spencer groaned as his head tipped back against the couch cushions, straining against every instinct begging him to just drive into her and utilizing every muscle in his body to keep her suspended as she wriggled impatiently.

"Baby... how are you— how are you wanting to do this?” Spencer whispered, swallowing before he continued. “I’m pretty sure I have a condom in my wallet, but I… um. I’m clean...”

Their hearts pounded in their chests as his words lingered in the air, the only sounds in the room being the repeated menu options from the forgotten movie and the ragged rhythm of their breaths.

Y/N meweled, reaching down to realign him with her entrance. “I’m clean and on birth control… Can we...? Like this? Please—“

“Yes.”

Y/N chuckled at his blunt response, though she was just as desperate to feel him after having the faintest taste of what he felt inside her. Her lips found his for a chaste kiss before she finally began to lower herself onto his cock, this time without his resistance.

Her laughter died in her throat, morphing into a choked whimper from the stretch of him. Even with how aroused she was, trying to make him fit was a struggle. Spencer was easily the biggest out of anyone she’d ever been with— a feat she hadn't quite realized until she was pausing halfway down his cock with a stuttered moan, slowly circling her hips in an attempt to adjust to the sensation.

Spencer was convinced he'd somehow died and ascended to paradise as he gazed up at the angelic woman hovering above him, enthralled by watching her fight to take the full length of him into her depths. His hands massaged up and down her trembling thighs, hoping to help her relax enough to take the rest of him without it hurting. Hums of encouragement rumbled from his chest as he stared unblinking at her, the warm amber of his eyes almost consumed completely by his blown pupils. His thumb found her clit and rubbed small circles into it as her eyes fluttered closed and she inhaled sharply through her nose.

"That's it, sweet girl," He cooed, continuing his gentle ministrations as she whined from deep in her throat. "Just like that. You're taking me so well. My gorgeous girl."

There was a pleasant burn as Y/N gingerly lifted her hips, leaving only the head of him inside of her. The way her hardened nipples brushed against his bare chest had her shivering lightly, the touch sending small sparks of pleasure jolting through her. Soft whines spilled from her lips as Spencer moved his hands around to grip her ass, gently massaging the flesh as she raised up on her knees.

With a committed roll of her hips and a quiet grunt, Y/N finally took the rest of his length, their bodies now flush together as her head dropped into the crook of his neck. The whorish moan Spencer released into her ear as he bottomed out had her clenching around him, a dire need to cause more of those sinful noises prompting her hips to begin moving. The raw stinging against her knees as she began to ride him in earnest only spurred her on, her nails digging into his shoulders as her head lolled back.

"Spence—" Y/N whimpered, resting her forehead against his as she panted out his name again and again, chanting it as though it were a mantra.

Spencer shushed her, understanding exactly what she couldn't manage to vocalize. He nodded against her as their bodies moved in tandem. "I know, baby. I know. You feel divine. My sweet angel." He continued to murmur out his praises as his head rested back on the edge of the couch cushion, small fingerprint-shaped bruises marking her skin as he clung to her.

Her hips began to falter as exhaustion started to settle into her bones from the vigorous pace she'd set, her second orgasm brewing in the pit of her stomach as though it were a wicked thunderstorm in waiting, ready to roll in and wreak havoc on her entire body at any minute. The slick sounds of their bodies connecting over and over paired with the symphony of heady moans and whimpers spilling between them—it was all driving her closer and closer to ecstasy.

Spencer noticed the fumble in her movements, his brows pinched together as he fought to keep his own climax at bay so he could enjoy the sensation of being wrapped up in her walls for a while longer. But he couldn't let his pretty girl do all of the work, could he? That would be cruel.

He planted his feet into the ground, beginning to pound into her from below. A satisfied smirk adorned his face as Y/N cried out, her head falling into the crook of his neck once more as she began to babble incoherently against his skin. The pace he set was wild and unrestrained, the angle allowing him to drive into her g-spot repeatedly.

"Take it, take it, take it—" Spencer hissed through clenched teeth before he latched his mouth onto her right nipple, sucking at the bud and swirling his tongue around it.

Y/N threaded her fingers through his hair, hanging on tightly as Spencer ravaged her. Her mouth hung open as moan after moan wrenched itself from her core and embedded into his damp skin. The pleasure searing through her veins was consuming her, burning her from the inside out. She was so close—

The catalyst for her orgasm came in the form of Spencer's hands slipping down her ass and underneath her thighs so that the tips of his fingers were brushing against where they were connected with each thrust. All it took was that one simple touch for the tension in her body to snap, her teeth digging into his shoulder as she tried to muffle her screams while her walls pulsed around him violently. Her eyes squeezed shut as she wailed his name loudly, not caring if any of her neighbors heard them at this point. She wanted the world to know exactly who was making her feel this good.

Spencer toppled them over onto the ground as she came around him, pinning her to the carpet and rutting into her fervently. Something akin to a sob fell from his lips before he abruptly pulled out, jerking his cock in quick strokes before he was spurting his cum across her stomach and tits with a cry of her name.

He crumpled to the ground beside her, pulling her into his side before he slung an arm over his face. Their chests heaved as they came down from their highs, both of them completely spent after such depraved lovemaking. His free hand stroked up and down her slick skin as she rested her head on his chest, calming the tremors wracking her body as they caught their breath.

Once Spencer regained feeling in his legs, he scooped Y/N from the floor and into his arms, hauling her off toward her bathroom as giggles bubbled from her lips at his surprising show of strength. Y/N watched with pure fondness as he started the shower, her heart swelling as he glanced back at her with a tired grin. When the water was warm enough, he held her hand as he helped her step in, following behind her with a hand wrapped around her waist to hold her steady.

After a shower spent lost in love-struck gazes, soapy caresses, and slow, tender kisses against the tiles, they ended up wrapped in each other's arms in her bed. It was only midday, but it was Saturday—so why not indulge in a nap? They had more than earned it after their (failed) movie marathon.

"Y'know," Y/N started, her voice low as fatigue began to cloud her mind. "You really do have massive hands." She took his hand, which had been resting loosely between them, lifting it to align with hers for comparison. His hand was nearly twice the size of hers, and the sight made her smile with amusement.

Spencer snorted, his nose scrunching as he laughed quietly at her observation.

"Well, yeah... I am 6'1", sweetheart. It would be abnormal if I didn't have massive hands," He stated matter-of-factly. "Besides, you love them. Really love them," He added with a sleepy smirk.

Y/N's face burned as she rolled her eyes, playfully shoving him with a scoff. "Yeah, yeah. It isn't my fault you have hands that were crafted by Michelangelo himself," She murmured defensively.

Spencer pulled her closer, brushing a kiss against her forehead, then her nose, her cheeks, and finally, her lips.

"You know I'm just teasing you. Did you know that—"

As Spencer began to prattle on about the variations and degrees of hand kinks and fetishes, Y/N's mind drifted back to the picture that had unknowingly set everything in motion. She couldn’t help but thank that raised crack in the sidewalk for pushing her old-fashioned boyfriend (that still felt so surreal to say) to embrace modern technology—because without it, she might have spent even more time blind to the fact that she was utterly, hopelessly in love with the man lying before her.

And as they drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms, Spencer felt a deep sense of gratitude for finally being able to love the beautiful woman in his arms the way he’d always dreamed of.

Continued A/N's: I felt evil for my first (published) fic being so angsty so I decided to write this as a formal apology LMAO. I had so much fun writing this, and I hope you have just as much fun reading it. Please tell me what you think and let me know if you'd like to see a sequel for this as well! :) K <3

[adieutristana]

getting married headcanons / arcane women x fem! reader

the thought of marriage and weddings have been on my mind for weeks now and i’m not sure why, but i’m a sap like that. i also haven’t been able to find many fics in the arcane tags about marriage so i figured i’d write my own :)

i’m getting to requests as quickly as possible! my first final is this friday and i’m kinda freaking out. things should speed up once im on winter break!

summary: headcanons of what it would be like marrying arcane characters.

characters included: jinx, vi, mel, sevika, caitlyn.

tags/warnings: fluff. SO much fluff. mentions of (happy) crying, mentions of drinking, s2 spoilers / mentions of death (caitlyn), slight hurt/comfort

men dni.

jinx;

✧.* you had spoken of marriage before, and every time you did, jinx became incredibly emotional. the girl had never seen marriage as something in the cards for her. a master criminal, a symbol, a living martyr? sure. but never a wife. so when you brought up the fact that you one day wanted to marry her, she was inconsolable in the best way possible.

✧.* to think that someone loved her enough to want to marry her, to want to spend the rest of their life by her side was unreal. she never thought she would have that.

✧.* so naturally, when you got down on one knee in front of jinx and opened a velvet box, presenting her with a shining diamond- jinx was in hysterics. she immediately broke into a fit of tears. blubbering, she nodded frantically, shakily taking your hands in hers. you felt a few tears of your own fall from your eyes as you slipped the ring onto her finger.

✧.* "yes, yes, yes- oh god, yes, i want to marry you. are you sure, though? i mean... will i make a good wife? are you sure you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody like me?"

✧.* "yes, jinx. i want all of it. all of the chaos, all of the mischief and adventure. all of you."

✧.* jinx immediately makes it a point to show off her brand-new, shiny ring to absolutely everyone. she’s engaged now, and she’s gonna make it everybody’s problem. she would go into sevika’s usual spot- a local casino just to track her down and shove her hand in her face. sevika would just raise an eyebrow, and look back up at jinx. seemingly unamused.

✧.* “i’m a fiancée now! see?”

✧.* “i can see that.”

✧.* “you can at least act like you’re excited for me!”

✧.* jinx’s favorite part of being engaged is probably planning the wedding. she makes almost all of the decorations herself- centerpieces, messy tablecloths, colorful banners. they’re crude and chaotic, but they’re jinx.

✧.* you do manage to talk her into letting a friend make flower arrangements and cater, though.

✧.* while jinx wants to look nice for her big day, she doesn’t really put that much thought into what she wears, instead wanting to hear your input. if you want her to wear a suit, she’ll do so! if you’d rather see her in a dress, fine by her. however, i can’t see her in an extravagant wedding gown… probably something simple.

✧.* she does insist on wearing her hair in a single braid, though.

✧.* jinx wants a small wedding, at a local empty hall she can decorate however she pleases. close friends and (your) family are the only guests welcomed.

✧.* when the day of the wedding comes, jinx is both ecstatic and a nervous wreck. a million thoughts are swirling through her mind, whispering to her from every angle. what if you leave her at the altar? what if you get cold feet? but the fact that you are there, she knows you’re here for the long haul, is what grounds jinx.

✧.* jinx somehow convinced vi to walk her down the aisle.

✧.* it actually wasn’t hard at all, she’s just exaggerating. despite the strains and tainted history between the two, vi wouldn’t miss the chance to see her little sister get married for anything in the world.

✧.* when she walks down the aisle, she’s the first one at the altar. twiddling with her thumbs, eyes darting around the hall.

✧.* when she finally sees you being walked down, though, jinx isn’t able to hold back her tears. it starts out small, then a dam breaks. you just look so beautiful.

✧.* it comes time for the reading of vows, and jinx’s voice is trembling. bless her, she’s sniffling and trying through shaking hands to unfold the paper.

✧.* “i’m not good with words, you know this. i never have been. but you make it so easy. i’ve never felt more like myself with someone, never felt so loved and cared for. i still wonder why you chose to marry someone so chaotic, a ‘master criminal,’ as the pilties put it. but i can’t explain how grateful i am. you love me for everything that i am, and everything i’m not. it’s you and me, always. i love you.”

✧.* after exchanging rings, jinx is practically pouncing on you to close the distance between you. the exact moment the officiant says ‘you may now kiss.’

✧.* jinx is completely different during the reception. the music selection is so perfectly her, but also so you. she’s (horribly) dancing, tugging your wrists to invite you to dance with her. whooping and singing along to the music. this is the happiest you’ve ever seen jinx. your wife.

vi;

✧.* vi is also someone who never saw herself getting married, honest. she had a prison wife at one point, but that was just to get her through each grueling hour at stillwater. the girl never saw herself being married for real. until she met you.

✧.* she first began calling you her wife playfully. vi is a sucker for pet names, isn’t she?

✧.* “i’m home! how’s my wife doing? i didn’t keep ya waiting long, did i?”

✧.* but the more she called you her wife, and the more positive your reactions to the nickname became, it dawned on her that she actually could see herself marrying you. that option had just never clicked in her mind.

✧.* the two of you never properly talked about marriage per se, but it was silently agreed that it was a possibility.

✧.* however, it still caught you completely off guard when vi proposed to you.

✧.* it was in the middle of a field, which already struck you as odd. vi wasn’t one to go exploring in nature typically, but she said she wanted to see the stars with you, so you didn’t ask any questions.

✧.* you’re side-by-side with vi on a shared blanket, while your girlfriend uses her finger to point out each constellation. she’s wrong about the name of the majority, but you don’t have the heart to tell her that. she’s just too cute.

✧.* however, at the end of the night, when you’re occupied with folding the blanket, you glance over your shoulder to see vi on one knee. your hand claps over your mouth and the blanket falls onto the ground.

✧.* “(y/n), i love you. you know this. i tell you every day. but we’ve been together for a while now… and i think i’m ready to take the next step. i call you my wife anyways, why not make it official?”

✧.* with tears welling in your eyes, you nod again and again. hands covering your mouth and one shakily stretching to let vi slip the ring onto your finger.

✧.* it’s a simple ring; a silver band with a rectangular alexandrite in the center. but you can tell from the shine that vi had been saving for this purchase for a while.

✧.* vi wanted to get a ring worthy of you. a ring that showcased her endless devotion to you, and damn, she did a good job hiding the ring as long as she did.

✧.* vi doesn’t waste any time when it comes to planning. she wants a small wedding, but still intimate and romantic.

✧.* almost everything is done by the two of you, with minimal help from jinx. vi does centerpieces, invitations, and the music, while you take care of the catering, flower arrangements, and guest planning.

✧.* jinx likely just makes a few light coverings to give the illusions of different colored lights during the reception.

✧.* your girlfriend fiancée wears a tailored black suit, with a maroon vest and tie. she put a lot into being able to rent it, so she wants to make sure she looks perfect for her soon-to-be wife!

✧.* the day of the ceremony finally arrives. vi is nervous, but she does her best to keep herself grounded. it isn’t until she’s stood at the altar waiting for her bride that anxiety truly sets in.

✧.* yet, all of that anxiety melts the instant she sees you walking down the aisle. your eyes light and full of adoration, only for her. the smile on your face is enough to light up the entire universe on its own.

✧.* it’s then, when she takes your hand as you step up to the altar, that she begins to feel tears pricking at her eyes.

✧.* vi has her vows memorized. she made a habit of reading them aloud every night at least twenty times, over and over again. but she still manages to stumble over her words; something you can’t help but giggle to.

✧.* “my love for you has always been clear. since the day i met you, you’ve never left my mind, or my side. i love all of your cute habits, all of the things you think i don’t notice, the sound of your voice, your smile, those eyes… i love all of you. i promise to love you now, and forever. you complete me.”

✧.* vi is fully crying by the time she finally gets to cup your cheeks and press her lips to yours, holding the kiss longer than she probably should. but she just can’t help herself. you’re her wife now.

✧.* she doesn’t get shitfaced during the reception, but your wife is definitely pretty drunk on the dance floor. busting out moves you didn’t even know she had.

✧.* she feels free to let loose now, have fun, with you by her side. dancing with her. singing along to the music without a care in the world.

mel;

✧.* with mel, marriage wasn’t really a conversation the two of you had, instead, it was a given from the beginning.

✧.* mel takes relationships very seriously and sees anything casual as a waste of her precious time. marriage is the end goal when mel gets into any relationship, so it wouldn’t be any different for you. she loves you, and you love her, the natural thing to do is to get married.

✧.* however, she is a patient woman and willing to wait for whenever you’re ready to commit to marriage. she is busy after all, she can wait as long as needed.

✧.* when you finally are at a place in your life- financially, mentally, emotionally, to be able to comfortably get married, mel wastes no time proposing to you.

✧.* you figured it would be the other way around, and actually did begin window-shopping for a general idea of what ring you’d purchase for your girlfriend.

✧.* but mel has a way of knowing things, and she tells you that she’ll buy it.

✧.* “i know you’ve been browsing around, here and there for a ring. be patient. i’ll handle that, okay?”

✧.* when mel proposes, it’s in a small, intimate space in her home. the woman goes to plenty of galas and parties as a councilwoman, but she wants this moment to be only between her and her girlfriend.

✧.* warm candlelight fills the room, the scent of peonies and baby’s breath subtle. you’re unsure of what’s going on for such decorations- was there a holiday that you forgot? your anniversary wasn’t for another few months, so surely-

✧.* a soft voice from behind you pulls you back to reality. the sight of mel, on one knee, holding open a violet velvet box.

✧.* “my dearest. i know i tell you regularly, and i know you’re aware, but i love you. i love you more than life itself, and i want nothing more than to make the next commitment to you. i need to marry you, (y/n).”

✧.* and god, the ring itself. the stone is practically a boulder. it’s a gold band with a cluster of diamonds framing one big diamond in the middle. yes, mel is the most wealthy woman in piltover, but she’s truly outdone herself.

✧.* you’re in tears, mumbling out choked ‘yes’s as your now-fiancée beams. she takes extra care, gently slipping the ring onto your finger. letting you know just how beautiful it looks on you.

✧.* as much as mel would love to be thoroughly involved in planning the wedding, duty calls. so you have creative liberty- she trusts you. she also does hire a professional wedding planner to get most of the difficult work done. the last thing mel would want is you worrying your pretty head before marrying her.

✧.* a grand hall, with gold interior, fountains, high ceilings and glass chandeliers was selected for your wedding. a place which many former high-ranking members of piltover’s society have been married in years prior.

✧.* as for a dress, mel chooses a grand, white gown. silk with lace trimmings, and a cathedral-length veil. she doesn’t mind what you wear, the only thing that matters to her is your comfort.

✧.* naturally, the majority of piltover is invited to the wedding. it’s not every day that the most high-ranking woman in your city gets married.

✧.* the day of the wedding comes. mel is an expert when it comes to keeping herself calm on the outside; stoic and poised. but internally, she’s a mess.

✧.* mel medarda, getting married? it’s always been something she’s wanted, but now that it’s happening, it’s hitting her what she’s about to do. yet, that makes it so much more exciting.

✧.* her worry is more about what how she’ll be perceived by the public, and presenting a much more vulnerable side of herself.

✧.* when mel walks down the aisle, bouquet in hand, orchestra plucking strings, she’s taking deep breaths to ground herself. this is really happening.

✧.* she sees you walk toward the altar, and she immediately has to close her eyes. only for a second. you look absolutely divine- it’s overwhelming. so many emotions: love, adoration, gratitude, all swirling in mel’s chest.

✧.* mel has her vows memorized. she’s always had a good memory, but she can’t stop her voice from cracking and breaking every few words. the moment is just all-consuming.

✧.* “my love for you is eternal. it always has been, and it always will be. to be stood before all of piltover, making this promise to you is an opportunity i am honored to have. i promise to fiercely love you for as long as you will allow me to, and as long as you will love me. (y/n). my love, my light, and now my wife.”

✧.* she has to wipe away a few stray tears from her face afterward, but she giggles and tightly embraces you. just before brushing your lips with hers, a moment she wishes she could stay in forever.

✧.* the reception is refined and calm. although others may be getting a bit tipsy, mel would much rather slow-dance with you on the floor. stand beside the cake, champagne in hand, just admiring you for all that you are. she swears you’ve never looked more beautiful.

sevika;

✧.* sevika has never given marriage a second thought. for other girls? sure, but never her. she had a job to do, a city to protect, and that was her priority.

✧.* until you in passing mentioned being old and married in jest. that statement hit sevika like a bag of bricks.

✧.* trying to lay her head down to rest, your voice plays on a loop in sevika’s head. being old and married. married. married to each other.

✧.* she simply can’t shake the thought. again, she had never given marriage a second thought, but sevika could truly see herself marrying you. that was how loyal and devoted she was to you, how much she loved you.

✧.* sevika doesn’t mention it, though. that’s the kind of woman she is, isn’t it? moving in silence, but with intention nonetheless.

✧.* however, one day, sevika slips out of your shared home to take care of ‘business.’

✧.* “be back soon, love. i won’t be long. -sevika”, reads a note left on your dresser.

✧.* where sevika is actually going is to a metal smith in zaun, a humble craftsman in a shared space with various other artists. she wants your ring to be perfectly you, and she wants your ring to be one that nobody else possesses. so custom-made is the only option.

✧.* a thick silver band with an amethyst in the center, and engravings on the inside. it takes about two weeks to finish, with sevika checking in about twice every week in the wee hours of the morning. this is one of the most important projects she’s ever overseen.

✧.* once she finally gets it, sevika will not let go of the ring box. a heavy maple wood box housing the most important possession she has, soon to be yours.

✧.* of course, sevika fiddling with her left pocket doesn’t go unnoticed by you. but she brushes it off, tells you that she wasn’t sure if she left something in there from the day before.

✧.* her proposal is spontaneous. she tries to plan it, but she simply cannot wait any longer. she takes the ring box out of her pocket, presenting it to you and slowly opening it.

✧.* “i don’t… i don’t do this stuff. i don’t know how to, i’m sorry. but i… i love you, and i can’t stop thinking about what you said before. about being old and married. i want that, with you.”

✧.* it’s so rare that sevika is completely unguarded, even in private. she’s a soft lover, but you can tell that right now, all of her walls are down. poor woman, she’s even shaking.

✧.* you just grab her hand, a stray tear falling down your cheek, and whisper, “yes.”

✧.* sevika has no idea where to start when it comes to wedding planning (or event planning to begin with.) so you take on most of the responsibility for planning, occasionally enlisting help from friends.

✧.* of course, sevika is still very involved in terms of observing and helping you make decisions.

✧.* you choose a small hall, enough to hold a handful of guests. sevika doesn’t have many people to invite, granted, but there needs to be enough room for her playing mates at the casino, jinx, and your guests.

✧.* your fiancée chooses a dusty plum suit, tailored to her body and the smallest golden hoops in her ears. (you didn’t even know she had her ears pierced until the day of the wedding.)

✧.* the day comes, and sevika sees you walking down the aisle. she stares at you in nothing short of awe, pure joy. her mouth hangs open.

✧.* when you finally step up to meet her at the altar, it takes everything in the woman to not simply whisk you away then and there. patience, sevika, she tells herself.

✧.* she has her vows written down, despite trying to memorize them. she’s just filled with too many emotions. nerves, mostly.

✧.* “standing here now, i realize more than ever how much i love you. you’ve brought something to my life i never thought i’d feel: unconditional, unwavering love. i don’t know how you do it, but you make every day better than the last. you’ve gotten through to my heart. i swear to love you, to be loyal to you, and to protect you.”

✧.* she doesn’t even wait for the officiant to say that you may kiss, she’s immediately closing the distance between you as soon as you finish exchanging vows, kissing her wife again, and again, and again.

✧.* sevika doesn’t do much during the reception, mostly drinking little sips of whine and gazing at you with that longing expression you’ve come to know. if you try to drag her out onto the floor to dance with you, she’ll playfully groan and roll her eyes. but you know she loves it. she loves you.

✧.* “come on, sev, dance with me!”

✧.* “i don’t dance.”

✧.* “well, you do now!”

caitlyn;

✧.* the topic of marriage is a difficult one for caitlyn. as a member of one of the highest-ranking houses in piltover, it’s an expectation that she will one day marry. not necessarily from her parents, but from piltover and tradition.

✧.* honestly, she was indifferent. if she found someone she’d like to marry, great. but if not, she wasn’t going to hold her breath or beat herself up over it.

✧.* when you came into her life, caitlyn could feel her perception of marriage slowly changing. it was still indifferent at best, but she now understood why marriage was so common. why it was a thing, even. her love for you grew stronger by the day, and she wouldn’t be opposed to marriage- if it was you.

✧.* not married because she has to be, but because she wants to be.

✧.* caitlyn is transparent about all of this with you, telling you that while she’s okay with the idea of marriage, she doesn’t expect it. it’s the least she can do: be honest.

✧.* ultimately, the decision is in your hands, and you decide that you undoubtedly want caitlyn to be your wife.

✧.* so you browse every single jeweler in both piltover and the undercity. looking for any hidden gems amongst them. independent jewelers, chains, even heirlooms from your family. but in your search, you find a sole jewelry dealer in the undercity. selling a silver engagement ring with sapphire clusters that perfectly match caitlyn’s eyes.

✧.* you’re in the family’s garden, cait looking off into the distance. observing… the leaves, the flowers, the way the light hits them? you’re unsure, but you decide now is your opportunity.

✧.* “caitlyn.”

✧.* caitlyn quickly turns her head to you, looking the slightest bit concerned. “hm?”

✧.* that’s when you drop to one knee and take out a ring box. caitlyn’s eyes blow wide, both hands clapping over her mouth. she can’t believe the scene that’s playing out in front of her.

✧.* “i can’t contain myself anymore. caitlyn, the time i’ve had with you has been wonderful. the most amazing time of my life. you are the epitome of grace and diligence, consistently leading. you bring out the best in me day after day, and my life feels complete with you in it. caitlyn kiramman, will you marry me?”

✧.* bless caitlyn, she’s trying so hard to keep the tears threatening to spill at bay. she only nods, once, then twice, then over and over before bringing you into a deep kiss.

✧.* when you slip the ring onto her finger, you wish you could freeze time and frame this particular moment. the adoration in the woman’s eyes is one you can’t describe.

✧.* when it comes to wedding planning, cait wants to be as involved as possible. of course, she has a job to do, so that does prolong the planning. but patience is a virtue she learned early, so she doesn’t mind.

✧.* “what’s another few months? we have all the time in the world, dear.”

✧.* the two of you choose to have a small and intimate wedding, inviting her father, a few council members, and anyone you’d like to invite.

✧.* caitlyn chooses a sleek v-neck black dress, fitted to her form with a long train. she opts to wear a small tiara instead of a veil.

✧.* upon further examination, you notice that it’s the very tiara cassandra wore on her wedding day. silver, with small rubies delicately placed. caitlyn honoring her mother in this way brought a whirlwind of emotions to you, but you knew she would be happy for her daughter.

✧.* and for that very reason, among many others, caitlyn’s wedding day is an emotional one for her. she’s elated to be finally marrying the woman she loves, but she wishes more than anything that her mother could be there to see it.

✧.* seeing cait walk down the aisle does wonders to you. waiting at the altar for her was excruciating as is, but you almost have to pick your jaw up off the floor as your fiancée makes her way closer and closer to you. she looks otherworldly.

✧.* she chuckles and beams at you once she steps up to the altar. taking a moment to just admire you. she reaches a slim hand out to gently tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, cupping your cheek in her hand for only a moment. her sapphire eyes full of adoration.

✧.* caitlyn has her vows written down, in that annoyingly perfect penmanship of hers. she reads from the paper, glancing up at you constantly while having to wipe her eyes.

✧.* “(y/n), i didn’t know if this day would ever come. but i’m so glad that it has. my love for you knows no bounds, it festers and grows and builds onto itself every day. it’s exhilarating, as is every day by your side. to call myself your wife will be my greatest honor. and to welcome you into the kiramann family, an even greater honor.”

✧.* she’s fully crying by the time she finishes reading out her vows, looking up at you with the best smile that she can muster. she’s so overcome with love, she can’t help it.

✧.* the moment the officiant says you may kiss, caitlyn is placing one hand firmly on your waist and the other wraps around your lower back. holding you close and brushing her lips against yours.

✧.* cait’s reception is rather relaxed, with a selection of mostly classical and contemporary music playing quietly over speakers. however, she insists on having several slow dances with you. she’s surprisingly good, which makes you suspect she’s experienced with this.

✧.* guiding you back and forth with expertise, her head buried into the crook of your neck. holding you impossibly close to her as she hums in contentment.

[fastandcarlos]

End Of The World : ̗̀➛ Lando Norris

summary: you were fine that morning, so when lando suddenly gets a phone call that changes his things upside down, it feels as if his world has come crashing down

His heart sunk as Lando tried to get his head around what he was told on the phone. It was a blur of words to him as Lando tried to piece it altogether, tears falling freely down his cheeks. His knees buckled from underneath him as Lando dropped down into a chair, his breath shaky, heart racing as the call came to an end. 

He couldn’t quite believe it, your smile the last thing he saw that morning. Yet after being hit on your way to work, Lando’s world suddenly felt as if it was crashing down, hearing that your unconscious body had been transported to the nearest hospital. 

“I-I need to go,” Lando stuttered as he stood up from the meeting, rushing out of the building before anyone could reply. Panicked eyes watched Lando, but he was long gone, sprinting as fast as he could out of the building to where his car was parked. The journey was a blur as Lando blinked through his tears, hurrying into the hospital, shouting out your name. 

He was stopped by a doctor holding onto his shoulders, noticing how distressed he was. 

“Right this way,” the doctor told him, leading him down the corridor to where Lando could find you. “There is one thing that I must tell you first, your girlfriend is not in a good way. There’s extensive damage, most of it physical, which you need to prepare for.” 

“I don’t care,” Lando whispered, “I just want to be with her, please.” 

As the door to your room opened, a sharp intake of breath came from him. Lando couldn’t believe his eyes as he noticed the cuts and grazes all over your body, the machines around your bedside with cables attached to your body to keep you alive. 

“Oh, love,” Lando hummed, rushing to sit down beside you, placing his hand delicately over yours. You were cold, fragile, nothing like the warmth he usually received from you. “I’m here now,” Lando told you, brushing the pad of his thumb over the back of your hand. “She’s going to be alright, isn’t she?” 

“She’s stable,” the doctor informed him, standing in the doorway to your room. “The injuries are quite severe; we’re going to have to be closely monitoring your partner for a little while longer before we can make any decisions.” 

“Is there going to be any lasting damage? Permanently?” 

“Most of her injuries will heal with time,” the doctor tried his best to assure Lando, offering him a weak smile. “It sounds like the driver lost control of their car when they hit your partner’s, she overturned into the road,” he added, watching Lando flinch as he pictured the scene of the crash.  

All he could see was your car, with you terrified inside of it. Lando hated thinking about how you felt, how scared you must have been when that impact came, all alone in your car. He could imagine you calling out for him to help you, only he was nowhere to be found. 

His free hand continued to wipe under his eyes as Lando continued to study you. He’d lost count of how many marks he found, bruises, scrapes, cuts, not to mention the dry blood that was in your hairline. He wished he could do something, anything, to take the pain away. 

The doctor left the room, leaving Lando all by himself with you, giving him the time that he needed. His mind was racing with his own thoughts as his eyes stayed staring down at you, struggling to believe how his life had managed to turn upside down in only a blink of an eye. 

“I’m not leaving your side,” Lando whispered as he squeezed your hand, “I promise that you’re going to be alright.” 

The lack of response from you sent a shiver down Lando’s spine. Usually you’d laugh, or smile, give him some sort of reaction, but instead Lando was left with nothing from you. 

“I hate that you went through this all alone,” Lando added, moving one of his hands to brush over the top of your head through your hair. “I love you, however long you need to I’m going to be there for you. I know I joke about telling you to shut up all the time, but now I really could do with hearing your voice sweetheart.” 

The only sound in the room was the beep of the machines, letting Lando know that you were still there. It was a steady beat, which the doctor assured him was a good sign, but the only sign that Lando would take was the one when your eyes opened up. 

The hours he spent at the hospital soon became days, turning into a couple of weeks. Lando could hardly remember what the outside looked like as he spent every possible second with you, making sure that you knew that he was right there with you. 

When they could, his family and friends would stay with him for a while, even some of the other drivers had stopped by too. Mostly they were there to check on Lando, knowing that he’d no doubt neglect himself as he tried to focus all his energy on you instead. 

“There you are,” one of the nurses smiled as Lando walked through the hospital doors again, rushing down the corridor to get to him. “We were wondering if we were going to see you again.” 

Lando looked suspiciously across at her, following behind as she walked down to where your room was. “Has something happened?” 

“Don’t worry,” she smiled, saying nothing more as they got to the door to your room. “I’ll come and see how she’s getting on in a bit.” 

Lando nodded as he opened up the door, placing his phone into his pocket that he held. The regular beeping greeted him, although as Lando’s eyes looked up, his heart stopped as he saw a familiar pair of eyes staring back across at him. 

Lando rushed in, taking his usual seat beside you. 

“You’re awake,” he whispered, leaning across and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Are you alright? Do you need anything?” Lando fretted, eyes studying you closely. 

Your head faintly shook, the amount of pain you were in evident from the expression that was on your face. “I’m fine,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. 

A sigh came from Lando as he heard just how weak you were for the very first time. “You’ve got no idea how scared I was, I thought I was going to lose you, like the end of the world or something.” 

There was a look of disbelief on Lando’s face as he held onto your hand, struggling to believe that you were there with him. It would still be a long recovery for you, but it was the start that he had been hoping for. 

“You’ve got no idea how many people have stopped by to visit you,” Lando told you, “I always knew that everyone adored you, but I had no idea just how much, they’re all going to be so happy to hear you’re awake.” 

Your smile slowly turned up as Lando spoke, your mind was foggy as you tried to figure how much you had missed, still so uncertain as to what had happened. 

“You’re going to be alright,” Lando smiled, squeezing against your hand once again. “I’m going to be with you every single second, I promise.” 

“W-what happened?” You stuttered, voice faltering as you looked to Lando to try and make sense of everything and fit the missing jigsaw pieces together. 

Lando frowned, “your car was overturned, some guy lost control and went crashing into you, but you don’t need to worry about that, everything is getting sorted.” 

Your head nodded as Lando pressed a kiss to your cheek. “I love you,” you whispered as his ear brushed your lips. 

“I love you too, I’m so glad that you’re okay.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[lowkeyren]

NOT EVERYONE KNOWS!

in which — being in a secret relationship with them but they’re all idiots

featuring — dan feng, blade, jing yuan (separately) x gn!reader

wc: total 2.6k, from event req: here!, debut fic for my milestone event yippee, they keep fumbling but it’s ok cus they’re hot, reblogs w comments are appreciated, please enjoy!! <3

#DAN FENG

+ wait… since when are you guys married?!

dan feng? i just know he’s gonna mess this shit up so badly. he’s the high elder, but also the epitome of boyfailure. he really can’t help it, those terms of endearment just slip out so easily when you're by his side.

and it doesn’t stop there. he’s completely oblivious to the shocked silence and wide-eyed stares from others; for example, he might be holding your hand absentmindedly while discussing serious matters, and only snaps back to reality when you cough awkwardly.

but unfortunately, it’s not that simple when the gang (re: high cloud quintet) find out about your relationship. disclaimer: chaos ensues

dan feng immediately sits up upon seeing you enter the room, a fresh batch of tea brewing in hand. the discussion among the group gradually fades into the background as his eyes trail your figure while you carefully pour tea into each person’s teacup.

the piquant aroma fills his senses, and he can’t stop a small smile from creeping across his face when you take a seat next to him. he takes a sip, the delicate flavor enveloping his taste buds, leaving behind a delightful aftertaste that lingers long after the tea is swallowed. 

“—thus we require a substantial amount of time, speaking of which, anything on your end dan feng?” 

he finds himself watching you out of the corner of his eye. “imbibitor lunae…?” and it’s almost impossible for him to tear his gaze away from you. 

“hello? dan feng?” he snaps back to reality, blinking a few times before processing the initial question. “a-ahem, yes. darling, could you pass me the report?” he says, turning to your side.

the room falls silent, and a shocked gasp escapes from baiheng's mouth before jingliu clasps a hand over it; jing yuan shifts in his seat, exchanging a bewildered glance with yingxing. 

“hm..? did you forget to bring it?” his tone is soft and gentle, a stark contrast to the shocked expression on everyone’s face. “are you alright my dear? your face is quite red, do y—”

before he can finish, you manage to find your voice, trying to mask your embarrassment with a strained smile. “no, i didn’t forget the report, and i’m perfectly fine…  though our friends might need a minute to recover.” 

baiheng, still wide-eyed, blurts out, “hold on, are you guys… in a relationship?” 

dan feng blinks in confusion ”oh, did i forget to mention that part?” —to which you hear someone across the table audibly facepalm. 

you sigh, voice strained but laced with amusement, “i can’t believe you never told them we got married.” your words are followed by the sound of a cup shattering on the floor.

“wait… since when are you guys married?!” you pat jingyuan’s back, trying to stifle a laugh. “since last year.”

“seriously, and you never thought of telling us.”

“it was an honest mistake, yingxing.” dan feng replies, crossing his arms defensively.

baiheng shakes her head, “an honest mistake? like forgetting to water your plants, not like forgetting to tell us you got married!”

“well congratulations, i suppose. though a heads-up would’ve been nice.” jingliu manages a wry smile, though she internally cringes at baiheng’s exaggerated (or not) reaction, opting to just let her be. 

"sorry, it slipped my mind.” dan feng's nonchalant shrug only serves to further fuel jingyuan's irk, his eye visibly twitching; yingxing lets out a groan, still reeling from the revelation. you can’t help but chuckle softly at the scene unfolding, taking a sip of your tea. 

“you weren’t planning to tell us at all?!”

"honest mistake."  you can tell he’s just teasing his friends by the way a small smirk appears on his face as he attempts to hide it behind his teacup. (you nearly had to restrain baiheng as she tried to leap over the table.)

well, it seems like you’re not going to get anything done today.

#BLADE

+ easy, just buy me a nice ring and leave the lying part to me.

please. if you had a penny for every time blade almost exposes that you’re dating, you’d have three pennies. which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened thrice. 

the first time was when he received a call from you while in the car with firefly. he answered almost immediately, without realizing that wearing earphones does not necessarily mean he isn't able to be heard in real life, just that others can’t hear what he’s listening to. 

“went to boomerville n the locals said they knew u” —silverwolf, probably.

second was when someone confessed their feelings to you, and he “instinctively” jumped in to say you have a husband. "what husband? i don't see a ring on your finger." so now, that same man won't stop asking you about this so-called “husband” (that doesn’t exist). 

and third time, well we’ll see.

“are you sure you don’t want me to kill him.” 

you huff out in annoyance, “this wouldn’t even be an issue if you hadn’t mentioned i had a husband.” sighing, you push yourself off the bed and turn to face your boyfriend.

“...that aside, how exactly do you plan on handling him?” blade raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his gaze. “easy! just buy me a nice ring, and leave the lying part to me.”

if blade hadn’t seriously considered taking care of the man before, he certainly seems determined to do so now. “hey what’s with that reaction…”

blade’s eyes narrow as he takes in your response. “a ring huh, what are you going to do with it?” you roll your eyes, trying to stifle a smile. “what else? pretend i have a husband.” 

he sighs, “is this really the best solution you can come up with?” (he really doesn't like the idea of you having a husband…that isn’t him, fake or not)  “yup!” you reply with a grin, “i’ll be eagerly awaiting the ‘surprise’!” with that, you plant a quick kiss on his cheek and swiftly exit the room.

oh you’re lucky he loves you. (even though this is totally, 100% his fault)

—

“hmm, bladie? why the sudden interest in jewellery?” kafka smirks, curiosity dancing in her eyes. blade chooses to stay silent, picking out the most expensive ring; and kafka’s expression only broadens with amusement as she watches his intense scrutiny of the display.

“planning something special, are we?” she teases, leaning closer. “or are you just trying to impress someone?”

blade finally glances up, his face inscrutable. “just taking care of business.” he replies tersely, slipping the ring onto the counter along the pile of designer jackets. 

“right… well, i’ll be interested to see how this turns out.”

—

“what?” the man in front of you asks, his confusion evident. 

you tilt your head slightly, trying to gauge his reaction. “you seem surprised. did you think i was joking?” you casually brush a strand of hair away, subtly flaunting the ring to him —and to any onlookers; trying not to crack a smile when you hear a loud gasp followed by a flurry of hushed whispers.

he grits his teeth, clearly embarrassed and humiliated by the commotion. “i didn’t expect you to be married… especially since you never wear the ring.”

“or is it that you’re not all that attached to your husband?” the audacity of this man… just as you’re at a loss of words, a firm hand grips the man’s shoulder from behind.

blade yanks the man back, and away from you. “you’re pushing your luck.”  the sudden motion causes the man to stumble, his face pale with a mix of surprise and fear.

“w-who the hell are you?!” the man’s voice trembles as he tries to regain his composure. meanwhile, you notice a crowd beginning to form around you, with some people eagerly pulling out their phones to record the escalating drama.

“leave, now.” you can tell blade’s patience is wearing thin, dangerously so.

the man’s eyes narrow in defiance. “why should i? you’re the one to talk when you’re hiding behind a disguise.” blade pins the man with a steely gaze, his intense stare making the man stiffen under its weight.

but what you didn’t expect was for blade to turn around, remove his mask and letting it dangle from one ear; he then raises your hand to his lips, placing a tender kiss upon it.

the man’s face immediately drains of colour, and the crowd around you erupts into a cacophony of gasps and murmurs. you’re not sure whether he's more shocked by blades' bold gesture or by the fact that a notorious criminal is standing right in front of him. (its the latter)

the man, now visibly shaken, scrambles away, yelling out a “sorry!” before disappearing into the crowd. blade pulls you away, ignoring the flashes of cameras and ducks into a nearby alley.

the next morning, you wake up to a barrage of notifications on your phone. you discover the group chat flooded with messages from your friends.

“@barcodewrist @[you] explain yourselves”

“Bladie, so that was what the ring was for~” 

“bro i cant believe this old ass man has rizz”

you quickly type out a message asking for context, in which you only receive a link from silverwolf. as you click in, you can’t help but wish you can unsee what’s on the screen.

“‘YOUR NAME’, IDENTIFIED IN ASSOCIATION WITH STELLARON HUNTER ‘BLADE’: WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE. BOUNTY SET AT 3.5 BILLION.” and attached below is a video of what transpired yesterday. 

“great” you mutter under your breath, “not only am i dating a wanted criminal, now i'm one too.” you shoot a quick message to the group chat “any tips on staying out of trouble when your boyfriend’s a fugitive? asking for a friend... and my sanity.”

on the bright side, at least you’ll be greeted by a very pleased blade, now publicly acknowledged as your husband —oh and don’t question the second ring on your finger.

#JING YUAN

+ stop you're not allowed to smile at me like that. / like what?

how do i even start. he’s so smug, please throw a rock at him and wipe that “:3” off his face.

you really do sometimes wonder if jing yuan ever truly intended to keep this relationship a secret, especially by how he practically transforms into a lovesick puppy whenever you’re within a 10 meter radius. 

goodluck because he's also such a tease, an insufferable one. despite that, you can’t deny there’s something endearing about how he always seems to light up when you’re around, his constant teasing remarks making it harder to stay mad whenever you call him out for being “too lax”. 

after all, he may be a headache, but he’s your headache —one that comes with a hefty dose of affection and a penchant for making every single moment spent together memorable.

being the general’s secretary, and his lover isn’t an easy job. 

you’re focused on the task before you; reviewing documents, scheduling meetings, coordinating logistics for high-stakes missions —ensuring no crucial information slips through the cracks. 

but you can’t help but feel a pair of eyes boring into you. it’s a subtle sensation, a weight that pulls your awareness away from the task at hand. you glance up from your desk, only to be met by jing yuan’s gaze, fixed on you with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken.

“jing yuan, what are you doing?” you ask, but he doesn’t answer. though a smile slowly spreads across his face as he continues to watch you. his overwhelming stare makes it difficult to concentrate…

and worse? he looks utterly and hopelessly in love.

“stop, you're not allowed to smile at me like that.” the words come out softer than intended; he leans in slightly, the warmth in his expression only deepening.

“and why not?” he asks, his voice carries a hint of amusement. the twinkle in his eyes suggests that he knows exactly what he’s doing, and it only adds to your annoyance. 

“because” you reply, trying to sound exasperated, “you’re looking at me as if you’re in love with me or something!” —and your handsome face makes it impossible to focus.

jing yuan’s smile only widens, clearly enjoying your reaction. “is that so? i didn’t realise my smile had such an effect on you.” (you hope his pants catch on fire because he’s obviously lying about being unaware of the effect his presence has on you)

“and i am in love with you.” 

that, in fact, did not ease the fluttering in your chest. “shh!” you quickly cover his mouth with your hand; you hold your grip for a moment longer, feeling the warmth of his breath against your palm.

“hmm… so i can't even look at my beloved partner now?” his voice comes out slightly muffled and distorted due to your playful assault on his face. you give his cheek one last, harsh pinch before finally letting him go.

you heave a sigh of relief once you’re sure no one heard anything, you loosen your grip but keep your palm resting on his face. with a playful pinch, you squeeze his cheek. “you tease!” you furrow your brows, though a small smile tugs at your lips despite your effort to remain stern.

you shake your head with a smile, “do you have any idea how hard it is to stay focused when you’re looking at me like that?” the admission slips out before you can stop it, and you feel a flush rise to your cheeks.

“i know,” he replies with a grin, “and i wouldn’t change a thing.”

jing yuan rests his chin on his hand, his elbow propped up on your desk; the warmth of his gaze and the cheeky grin on his face makes it hard to stay frustrated at him. 

“you’re impossible,” you say with a mock scowl, though your tone carries a lighthearted edge. “but it’s also hard to stay mad at you.”

he chuckles softly, clearly pleased with your reaction. he leans in a bit more, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “oh? then would you like to head out—”

“you wish.” you cut him off with a deadpan look, “that stack of papers has been sitting there since this morning, and it’s not going to magically sort itself out.”

you gesture toward the mountain of documents on your desk, which has only grown throughout the day. he sighs, settling himself comfortably into the seat beside you. you pick up your pen as you try to regain your focus again amidst the lingering warmth of his presence.

this time, you really do consider throwing a rock at him when his head falls on your shoulder as he dozes off just five minutes later.

but hey, at least he makes it clear that he’s head over heels for you, even if it comes with a side of embarrassment, and a few near heart attacks. 

MASTERLIST ; EVENT M.LIST

[witchesverse]

house wife

pairing: dark!50swanda x fem!reader

summary: after wanda meets you in her hex, she decides that she wants to keep you as her own.

content: noncon, heavy manipulation, degradation, mention of murder, crying, cheating (kinda??), nipple touching, fingering, clit rubbing, spitting, face slapping, mention of training.

a/n: half way writing this i realised wanda didn't have her children in the 50s so just pretend she did so i don't need to rewrite it :(

masterlist

The moment she met you, she was hooked. Everything about you drew her in. It made her heart flutter at how you genuinely cared for others and that beautiful, shy smile that would spread across your face at one of her compliments.

And it made her stomach flip at how utterly perfect your body was.

When she created the hex, it was out of grief and the yearning for a family with her dead husband, Vision. But once she met you, that idea was disregarded, and then her children and Vision disappeared.

She didn't care for her family's disappearance. She was too focused on the fact that she could finally have you.

The real you.

"Oh, hiya, Wanda!" Your cheerful voice brought a smile to her face.

You stood at your front door, holding a cookie tray with an apron wrapped around your waist. Wanda thought you looked adorable.

"Oh no, I hope I'm not intruding on your baking time, sweetheart." Wanda's voice was laced with faux concern.

You immediately shook your head, seemingly baffled by the question Wanda had asked. "Of course not! Your presence would never intrude on my time. In fact, why don't you come and sit whilst I finish baking?"

"Are you sure? I don't-"

"I insist."

Wanda bit her tongue, holding herself back from snapping at you and spanking your arse over her thigh. How dare you cut her off.

You stepped back, letting Wanda enter your house.

Your house was big for one person; it makes Wanda think someone else lived here before the hex.

"Make yourself at home!" You gestured to the living room, "I'll just pop these in the oven."

Instead of sitting on the couch, Wanda followed you to the kitchen and watched you. She held back a moan at how perfect your arse looked as you bent down to place the cookies in the oven.

She wanted to be slow and give you time to warm up to her, but you looked too perfect to resist, especially with how your dress revealed your panties to her.

"Come here," Wanda spoke with such authority that you immediately obeyed.

She softly grabbed you by the chin, forcing you to look at her. She smiled at how easily you complied.

Such a dumb, pretty thing.

She dragged her thumb over your lips and your mouth dropped slightly. Her chuckle brought you back into 'reality'.

"Um," You cleared your throat and stepped away from her. Wanda hid the anger in her face.

She stepped forward, sandwiching you between herself and the kitchen counter. She placed one hand on the counter and the other on your temple.

She lifted the spell.

Your eyes widened and your sweet, soft look was replaced by pure fear. You tried to run, but Wanda prepared for that and her magic kept you in place.

"Y-You did this," You whimpered "Please, let me go. I'll do anything, please."

Wanda smiled innocently, "Anything?"

"My wife-" You gasped, "Is she here? God, I haven't seen her in weeks. Please let her go if she's here. I promise-"

Wanda covered your mouth with her hand. She didn't want to hear about your wife. She wished she trapped your stupid wife in her hex so she could kill her.

"If you comply, I promise I won't hurt her." It was a simple lie, but you believed it.

She used her thumb to wipe your tears away. She couldn't have you crying already.

"Strip for me."

She watched with an amused grin as your brain struggled to process her request, but when it did, heat rose to your cheeks. With shaky hands, you removed your clothing until you were bare and on complete display for Wanda.

Wanda's fingers brushed against your erect nipples and her other hand wrapped around your throat, pushing you onto the counter. You whimpered as your back hit the cold counter.

"So perfect," Wanda muttered, more to herself than you.

Her fingers dragged down your stomach, goosebumps rising, until she stopped at your cunt. She lightly circled your clit and you whimpered in response.

Then, her fingers went lower. She tsked, shaking her head and brought her fingers up. They were drenched.

“I’m not…” You swallowed, unable to finish your sentence.

“You’re not what? Enjoying this?” Wanda rolled her eyes “Don’t give me that bullshit because you’re drenched.”

You looked away, tears filling your eyes. You were embarrassed.

Wanda sighed. She had a lot of behavioural corrections to do.

She grabbed your chin, turning you to face her. You watched with teary eyes as Wanda spat on your cunt, spreading her spit with her fingers.

One of her fingers slowly entered, curling upwards and pulling out. She kept a steady pace, figuring out what made you scream. It was understimulating.

"More,"

Your demand was whispered and weak, but Wanda heard it.

"Say it with manners."

"Please, can I have more?"

You nearly cried. The guilt of begging another woman to fuck you ate you up, yet you couldn't stop yourself.

Wanda rewarded you with another finger, stretching you out. Your hips desperately rutted into her palm, chasing the pleasure. It was brain-numbing how good her fingers felt.

She slipped a third finger inside. It was embarrassing how drenched you were. You could feel your slick dripping down your ass and were positive it was dripping down Wanda's arm.

Your orgasm hit you suddenly. Your back was arched and your toes curled. Your eyes fluttered closed and your mouth dropped open, letting out the sluttiest moan.

Wanda captured your lips with hers, muffling your moans.

"Can't have people knowing what a whore you are." She mumbled.

You shuddered, wanting to say something snarky in reply but words fell dumb on your tongue.

"My wife-"

Wanda pulled back, anger evident on her face and her palm met your cheek. It wasn't a hard slap, but it made your heart drop and tears fill your eyes.

"So much training is needed."

Her fingers touched your temples and you were put under her spell again. She stepped back and sucked her fingers clean, watching your reaction intently.

You cleared your throat and looked around, confusion written on your face. You ran your hands over your naked body and jumped when you noticed Wanda standing there.

"My goodness!" You picked your clothes off the floor, shielding yourself from Wanda. "Sorry, Wanda. I-I don't remember getting naked but give me three seconds to tidy myself up and I'll meet you in the living room!"

Wanda grinned as she watched you walk away.

Brainless little plaything.

[helaintoloki]

Hey I want to request something since I saw your request was open. So can you do a fic where five and y/n ( they are already married) end up in the deli with the other fives.

Basically there are only few fives that have a y/n but she's died in their timeline. So basically it's just the other fives wanting to know more about her abd the fives telling their stories of their y/n

Y/n absolutely loves the attention she almost sequeled when she saw the other fives lol.

a/n: so this actually ended up turning into a more depressing piece than i planned LOL but the original intention is there

warnings: language, angst, mentions of death, light amount of fluff

summary: your search for answers leads you to a deli with multiple versions of your husband inside

As the danger of the impending apocalypse finally begins to sink in for Five, he realizes he needs to get you somewhere safe until he figures out a way to stop the world from ending. Thus, while his siblings continued to fight off the monstrous cleanse that was Ben and Jennifer, Five quickly grabbed hold of you and jumped you both to the only place he could think of.

You stumble over your own feet as your body adjusts to being dropped into a new setting, your hand quickly raising to shield your eyes from the bright neons that hang above you as you take in your surroundings. A subway car comes to a screeching halt in front you, and before you can protest Five is quickly ushering you inside.

“Five, where are we?” You demand, completely disoriented from having been transported away from the fight without warning and preoccupied with worry at the thought of your family fighting against the Cleanse without you both present. “Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you somewhere safe where you can stay until I figure out how to undo this mess,” he instructs you hastily, his lips pulling back into an exasperated frown at your resistance to enter the subway car. He doesn’t have time for you to fight him on this, his siblings need him, and he needs you away from the fight. Though you’re skilled at combat and wickedly smart, you don’t have powers, and Five can’t risk something happening to you while he’s preoccupied with saving the world.

“You’re leaving me?!” You exclaim in distress as panic immediately begins to take over your rational mind. You push against him harder to move away from the train, but despite all your efforts the boy doesn’t budge.

“It’s only temporary, I promise you,” he assures you, and when you shove him hard in the chest once more he tightly takes hold of your hands and brings them to his lips to comfort you. “I’ll take you somewhere nice, somewhere with a beautiful house and a garden full of strawberry bushes. I found it while exploring other timelines in search of clues on how to prevent the apocalypse, I know it’s safe because I went there alone. You can stay in the house until this is all over and I’ll come back for you.”

“Five, what if…” you swallow harshly as tears begin to well in your eyes, your emotions overtaking you at the thought of this being goodbye, “…what if you don’t come back?”

Five refuses to meet your gaze when the question leaves your lips. He’d never lie to you, and he knows he can’t guarantee he’ll live long enough to join you in the peaceful timeline he’d found, but he doesn’t have the heart to voice this to you. How can he look you in your tear filled eyes and tell you that this might be the last time you’ll be together as husband and wife?

Sighing, he releases your hands in exchange for cupping your face so that he may brush away the tears that slide down your warm cheeks. He hopes that one day you’ll be able to understand that every moment leading up to this has been for you, and he would happily die a hundred times over if it meant keeping you safe. “You’re just going to have to trust me.”

You open your mouth to argue only to snap it shut when your gaze falls over his shoulder and lands on another figure in the subway. You blink away your tears to get a better view and are left speechless when you realize you’re staring back at the face of your husband.

But how can that be when he’s standing right in front of you?

Noticing your change in demeanor, Five follows your gaze and spots the lookalike that stands across the way from you both. His features contort into confusion as you both watch the second Five offer you a wave in greeting before disappearing down the stairs. Exchanging looks of uncertainty, Five and yourself immediately rush after the doppelgänger to figure out just what exactly is going on.

Your quick chase leads you both to the front doors of a deli, the dazzling sign above welcoming you warmly as you cautiously open the doors and set foot into Max’s despite Five’s protests to wait. If this other Five has the answers you need to return home safely together, then you’ll stop at nothing to get them.

Your originally confident demeanor quickly dwindles when the restaurant becomes deathly silent upon your entry. While you only expected to see one Five, you now find about twenty of them staring intently at you as you slowly walk towards the lookalike from the subway that waves you over to his table. Five is quick to rush after you and place a protective arm around your waist; you’re not the only one unsettled by their stares, and he feels uncharacteristically territorial in the presence of himself.

“Have a seat,” the subway lookalike offers with a gesture towards the empty space across from him, and you’re both quick to slide into the cushions at his command. “I’m glad you found me.”

“What is this place?” Your husband demands impatiently as another Five dressed in a waiter’s uniform approaches your table with three cups of coffee in hand.

“This is where all the Fives come after they decide to give up on figuring out a way to stop the apocalypse.”

As he speaks, a plate of pie is suddenly placed in front of you, and before you can even open your mouth to question it, the waiter offers you wink and assures you, “It’s on the house.”

Picking up the fork, your eyes widen in surprise as you realize what specific dessert has been given to you. Looking up at the Five across from you, you ask, “How did he know that-“

“Pumpkin pie is your favorite?” The lookalike finishes for you with an amused smile before leaning back to take a drink of his coffee. “We all know that, because we all know you.”

“Me?” You repeat quietly, brows drawn together in confusion as you look to your husband who seems rather displeased with all of the attention you’re getting. He never once thought to think of himself as potential competition over you, but it figures. Who better than himself to sweep you off your feet?

“Mind telling me why you all seem to have such a great interest in my wife?” Five demands with a wry smile, eyes blazing with annoyance and a subtle hint of jealousy.

“‘Your’ wife?” The Five behind the deli counter scoffs in amusement. “Take a number, pal.”

“What deli Five means to say is that each and every one of us has our own y/n in our own perspective timelines,” the boy across from you clarifies before gesturing to the the back of the shop. Your eyes widen in shock as you take in all the various pictures of yourself that line the wall from top to bottom, and it takes you a moment to process the fact that various versions of you have existed throughout time unbeknownst to you.

“My y/n was a trained assassin,” the Five at the table next to you describes with a dreamy smile before biting into his sandwich.

“Mine was sent alongside Hazel and Cha Cha to kill me,” another voices while pulling down the collar of his shirt to showcase the ghastly scar on his chest. “She gave me this along with three beautiful kids before I screwed it all up with this end of the world bullshit.”

“If you all care so much about her then why did you give up trying to save the world?” Your husband protests in agitation. Your search for answers is going absolutely nowhere, and you’re both left with more questions than solutions. If these doppelgängers were really meant to be him from different timelines, then why did they quit so easily? His sole purpose, his entire being, was doing everything in his power to ensure the safety of his family. Come hell or high water, Five would always be willing to get his hands dirty if it meant you and his siblings lived to see another day. So why weren’t they doing the same? “Why come here instead of preventing the apocalypse so she has the chance to live a safe and happy life even if it means you can’t be in it?”

A forlorn silence fills the deli at his question, and now none of the Fives can find it in themselves to look at you. Their features are almost shameful, their eyes full of guilt and their shoulders full of tension as no one dares to answer.

“When us Fives find a way to save the world, y/n is the one that pays the price,” the boy across from you discloses somberly before tilting his head to meet your gaze. Looking at you is like looking at a ghost, and he has to stop himself from reaching out to you as if you are his own. “The Handler killed my y/n after discovering my betrayal of the Commission.”

Another Five raises a woeful hand before announcing, “Viktor killed my y/n on accident with his bow after he discovered his powers.”

“My wife took a bullet for me because she thought my life was worth more than her own.”

“Dad had y/n disposed of in my timeline because he saw her as a distraction to me and my siblings.”

“Cha Cha tracked us down, found our home, and burned it to the ground with y/n still in it while I was away trying to save the world.”

You swallow harshly and ignore the knots in your stomach at hearing all the violent ways in which other versions of you had met their end. Your heart aches at learning what these men have been through and how much they’ve lost, but it also makes you begin to wonder if your fate will be worse than any story they can come up with. Sensing your discomfort, Five wraps a comforting arm around your figure and pulls you closer into his side.

“No matter how many times I traveled back to make it right, the result was the same,” the boy across from you relents in a desolate tone. “If I couldn’t even keep the most important woman in my life safe then how could I expect myself to save the world?”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you murmur softly, taking it upon yourself to reach across for his hand and offer your comfort. “I’m sorry for all of your losses. But as a y/n myself, I don’t think she would have wanted you to give up. She would have wanted you to keep going in spite of her death because that’s what she loved about you- your strength and your resilience when it comes to saving the people you care about.”

“God, you sound just like her,” he comments with a doleful laugh before shaking his head and pulling his hand away. “Believe me, I did everything I could. But no matter what we do, there’s no escaping the apocalypse.”

“So that’s it? There’s nothing we can do?” Five retorts in disbelief. This was all a complete waste of his time. He’s nowhere near close to preventing the Cleanse, and you’re still not somewhere safe away from the impending apocalypse.

“You can enjoy the time you have left with your y/n,” the lookalike instructs firmly, the other Fives in the deli nodding along. “You got lucky, you still have your wife, so why don’t you do us all a favor and take her somewhere nice?”

“I’m not giving up on this,” your husband argues before hastily rising from his seat in the booth. “There has to be a way to save the world, and I won’t stop until I figure it out myself.”

You watch him stalk out of the deli with purpose as he slams the door open and begins to formulate his next move. The room is silent other than the bell that jingles above the door, and you take this as your cue to leave.

“I should probably go after him,” you admit with a meek smile before scooting your way out of the booth. The Five from the subway rises to meet you, and he can’t help but to carefully cup your face in his hands and admire your features for just a moment. This might be the last time he’ll ever get to see you in person, and he’d like to commit every detail of you to memory from the reflection of the light in your eye to the smell of your perfume.

“If he ever gives you any trouble, you know where to find us,” he instructs you firmly before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head and releasing you from his hold. Smiling faintly, you return the gesture by chastely pressing your lips to his cheek before rushing off after your husband.

Who would have guessed that in every timeline, in every possible version of himself to exist, Five’s love for you knows no bounds.

[clandestineloki]

miguel o'hara x shy crybaby housewife!reader

cw: non-graphic mentions of violence, suggestive bit at the end lmk if u want an nsfw of this!!

ok but imagine shy lil missus o'hara who's a stay at home wife while miguel goes off to either alchemax or to fight some bad guys

and miguel comes home stressed all the time but just a touch of her hand on his shoulder grounds him after all that fighting

and miguel is tired but happy, grateful for his little love taking such good care of him :)) giving you a forehead kiss before he goes off to the bathroom, settling in the perfectly warm bath prepared for him before indulging in his little wife's amazing cooking 

but one night when he comes home a little bit more tense than usual

she's very tense

she's heard him yelling at his subordinates over the phone and yelling at dumb-ass cops who get in the way of him stopping some thief

and while miguel has always been soft and kind and gentle with her, she's scared that she'll accidentally do something wrong :((

so miguel walks past her, exhausted, and almost smiles at the smell of dinner

no forehead kiss for her :(( poor baby

sitting at the dining table head in his hands as he mumbles about not getting the chance to grab a snack, let alone a break in spanish

and she knows he's hungry, but she knows his whole body will be aching if he doesn't take a bath to regulate his body temperature

but poor baby doesn't know how to say it without him possibly snapping at her :((

she's standing on the other side of the table nervously fidgeting with the dish towel and finding the right words to say

"y-you... you gotta t-take a bath f-first..."

miguel sighs into his hands. "i know, but im really hungry, cariño..."

"b-but... if you don't... you'll be s-sore..."

he looks up, brows furrowing. "what?"

he was genuinely confused why you seemed so scared of him, but his voice came out a bit more bluntly than he meant it to.

your eyes widen and you look down. "n-nothing," you mumble, tears beginning to well up in your eyes. "sorry."

"hey, hey, baby..." miguel stands up, walking over to you and pulling you into his arms. "what's wrong? did i say something?"

"no..." you sniffle, "jus thought i made you mad..."

"no, no, no, i'm not mad," he kisses all over u: your teary eyes, your wobbling lips, your forehead, the tip of ur nose

miguel kisses you deeply and then hugs you close to him. "im not mad, i promise. i'm just so so tired and hungry and the food smelled so good i'm gonna die if i don't get to taste it," he whispers, laughing when you giggle at his declaration.

"the bath can wait," he caresses your cheek with his hand.

"b-but you're gonna get cramps tomorrow if-"

he cuts you off with a big smooch to your face. "it doesn't matter. im staying home tomorrow."

"wh-what?!" you look up at him as he sits down, pulling you into his lap. "but you have work- and- and you're spiderman- and-"

he shakes his head, running his fingers through your hair.

"i'm your husband first, and all that other shit second."

miguel sighs, pulling you closer.

"i know i haven't been taking care of you the way i should be."

before you can interject about how he's doing so much already, he presses a finger against your lips.

"ssh. and alchemax and the cops don't really give a shit about me, can probably last every other day without me there. they'd probably have a field day without this jackass there," he chuckles. "but you, baby, i need to return the favor- ah, ah! let me finish, gatita- return the favor for keeping this place a safe space for me."

a kiss here, a kiss there. "entiendes?"

you nod, hugging him. "just glad you're home," you mumble, nuzzling into his neck.

he spends the rest of that hour enjoying the food you made for him while also feeding you and rattling all about the thugs he stopped that day.

then he pulls you into the bath with him, despite your protests, and laughs as he splashes you with the soapy water, making you squeal and threaten to spray him with the shower nozzle

then the two of you dry up and snuggle in bed, not bothering to put on any clothes. miguel smiles down at you and you smile up at him, before he rolls you on your back and crawls over you to make the sweetest yet roughest love to show you just how thankful he is for having a sweet lil thing like u to come home to <3

(part 2 is here~)

[parfaitblogs]

fresh out the slammer ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer reid comes home from prison, and needs to fulfil everything he has missed about you. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: smut & comfort (18+ mdni) tags: post prison!reid. soft dom!spencer. teeth might rot i was cringing during some of this. established relationship. the briefest of breast play because what do i hate? the word nipple! fingering. p in v. no protection is mentioned but imagine what you will. casual nudity afterwards. spencer's got bruises from prison. i lowkey forgot about his thigh wound until the very end.  word count: 5.7k a/n: there's a completely different version of me in a world where i didn't write this. i hope she's doing well. i feel like i've been reborn. this is stupidly long LOL my apologies. pleaseee tell me if you liked this! or if you didn't! i love feedback! here's my monthly smut fic see you all in october!

Three months wasn't a long time, in the grand scheme of things. A quarter of a year usually went by too quickly for anybody's liking, the year sprinting through seasons until all twelve months were complete, and you were repeating it all over again. Usually. Three months without Spencer Reid, however, went by achingly slowly. And you hadn't originally considered just how agonising they could be. 

Each day was another painful mirror of the last, waking up and going to bed with the same sense of dread in your stomach, oftentimes swallowing you whole and leaving you unable to do just about anything at all. 

Living life without Spencer Reid was hard.

You saw him — of course you did. Despite his original efforts to keep you off the approved visitors list, Penelope Garcia had seen one glimpse of your heart shattered expression upon being told, and marched her way to the prison to slap sense into him. You weren't sure if that was metaphoric or not. 

However, seeing him once every other week and living with him were two very different situations. You hadn't realised just how much you had depended on him always being there when you woke up in the morning until you were waking up to cold bed sheets and a pillow clutched petulantly to your chest in hopes of recreating the warmth only Spencer could provide. 

And then he was free. 

From prison, that is. You hadn't heard it all — information about his time in prison had been kept from you in an attempt to protect your own peace of mind. But you knew from at least the bruises he was always sporting no matter when you went to visit him, that something awful had happened to him in there, and his own brain would keep him imprisoned for as long as it wished. 

But he was free.

And he was here, and you were staring up at his face littered with unkempt facial hair and a head of untreated curls, and regardless of everything horrific he had endured brewing behind his eyes, he was staring at you with the same softness he had before any of this happened. 

Despite the beginning of a protest when you wrapped your arms around his torso, you hugged him, and he hugged you, and even the faintest smell of grime and blood couldn't stop you from gripping onto him with so much force you thought your knuckles would break. 

"You're real," you whispered into his chest, muffled by it, and it shook beneath your face as he laughed, quietly. Beautifully.

"I am," he answered, and you could feel him crushing his own facial features into the top of your head, no doubt inhaling your shampoo. "You're real."

"Yes," you confirmed with a nod.

Maybe hours passed, perhaps only minutes. Whichever it was, you were still reluctant to pull away from him until he did, your face stained with tear streaks you don't remember shedding, his own eyes glassy as your gazes met. 

"You don't want to talk about it, do you?" you asked him, walking backwards as you led him out of the doorway you two had been finding solace in, and further into the apartment space you were ecstatic to share together again. 

"Not particularly," he answered, strides catching up to you and encasing your waist between his hands, tugging your body closer to his own. "Is that okay?"

"As long as you promise not to keep it in," you replied, teeth chewing into your lower lip in a contemplative habit. 

"I have counselling at work," he said, and you nodded, your facial features softening only a little — you knew him well enough to know he wouldn't enjoy said counselling sessions. Breath tickled your lips as he leaned in a little closer, inciting heat onto your cheeks. "Any other questions?"

"No," you replied, your own lips twitching in amusement. "That's it. Why?"

"Because I haven't kissed you in three months," he murmured, "and I want to."

"Maybe," you said with a hum, and he said your name chidingly, eliciting a laugh from you. "Yeah. Okay."

To be honest, you had spent a few too many nights allowing your thoughts to wander and end up dreaming about what it would be like to kiss him again. Whether or not either of you would have the patience to be gentle and kind to one another. In those nights, you had decided you would be. Your heart cracking every time you thought of Spencer alone in a concrete cell that it left you with a gaping hole in your chest. All you really wanted was to hold him and remind him how adored he was. 

Right now, you learned you wouldn't be. 

There was a tenderness in the way his hands found your cheeks to cup, and there was a softness in his fingertips against your skin. Yet, everything he kissed with was anything but. Feverish and quick, swallowing you whole and inspiring a spark in your chest that resulted in you kissing back just as hungry. 

Just when you thought there was nothing left to trigger within him, a squeak left your lips as the result of him tugging you impossibly closer, and he was beginning to walk you backwards, even further into the apartment, his kiss growing all consuming. 

"Spencer," you said, breathlessly, jerking your head back, staring at him, waiting for him to realise you weren't returning your lips to his, and his eyes opened. 

"What?" he asked, almost irritatedly. When he watched the slight flicker of hurt flash on your face at the tone, his own expression became gentler. "I'm sorry. Is something wrong?"

Immediately, you shook your head. "No. I just wanted to check how far you wanted to go," your hands travelled up to his hair, fingers scratching gently against his scalp. "I know there's a lot going on up here."

"Actually, right now it's just you," he said, tilting a head to the side to lean into one of your palms. "It's mostly you all the time. But right now you're consuming it."

"I make such an impact on your life," you quipped. 

"I know you're teasing, but you do," he replied, fingers tracing up and down either side of your jawline, eyes searching each small detail on your face he had no doubt already memorised. "I survived in there for you."

"Oh."

Probably not the most eloquent response for the things he had just confessed, but truly your brain had scrambled within an instant, and you weren't sure what to say.

"Sorry," he said, hands stilling on your face. "To answer your question, I don't know. I really missed you."

"I know," you said when a gaping silence followed his words. "We don't have to."

"I think I want to."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "You can't think, Spence. You've gotta know."

"I've definitely said that to you before," he chided, thinking for a moment, before, "yes. I did. First time we had sex."

"Sue me for repeating important sexual advice to you, Spencer Reid," you huffed. He laughed. 

"No, I mean, I do. Want to," he finally replied. "I'm really scared of hurting you."

"Do you want to hurt me?"

"No."

"Then you won't," you reassured him, despite knowing whatever doubt he had in himself would not be resolved just like that, and it'll probably eat at his mind for a long while. "And even if you do, I won't be upset with you." When his face scrunched and his expression mirrored judgement, you stammered to clarify. "Not in a kinky way. Don't look at me like that, Spencer. Stop it. I just meant I'll understand. And I won't be mad."

"Didn't take you to be into masochism," he mumbled, and you groaned at his selective hearing, dropping your forehead to his shoulder, that shook with his laughter. "Kidding, honey. I know what you mean."

"Not funny."

"It was a little," he countered, a hand reaching up to entangle within your hair to pull your head back, gently, so he could look at you again. 

"Hi," you said when your eyes locked once more. 

"Hello," he answered, his lips pulling into a smile. "I'd like to kiss you again."

"You've used up your kiss for the day, actually," you replied, sweetly beaming up at him. 

"Quiet," he shot back, leaning forwards and allowing his lips to brush hesitantly against yours, eyes searching your own with an added hint of desperation. "Please?"

You pretended to think for a moment too long, because he was already mumbling something that sounded a little like 'brat', and pressed his mouth to yours once more. 

You couldn't complain. 

It was the same intensity as earlier, and yet there was something in it that differentiated the homesickness of the kiss from then, and the desperation now. Large hands — that you would probably allow to encase you whole — pathetically held your face lightly, hips knocking with yours as he walked you backwards and up against the back of the couch. 

"Spence," you whimpered embarrassingly, hands clawing at the sleeves of his suit jacket, trialling and failing at tugging it off his body. 

"I got you, sweet girl," he mumbled against your lips, not breaking the kiss for even a second as he helped you, shrugging the jacket off and allowing it to fall to the floor — something he will certainly chastise himself for later. 

"Bedroom," you said, in between heavy breaths and feverish kisses. A request he was more than happy to comply to, for he had nodded, and you were instantaneously tugging on one of his hands in the direction of the room, his eyes fixated on your body as he trailed behind. 

"Missed you so much," he murmured as he tugged you back towards him the second he had kicked the door shut, lips finding the corner of your mouth, then your jawline, then your neck, as he kissed down you. 

"So you've said," you breathed out, tilting your head to the side as he gently nipped at the skin. 

"Do you get off on being mean to me?" he chided, lifting his head to look at you again, and your heart stuttered. 

"No. Just that dominance act that it brings out," you murmured, attempting to keep the mood light. Successfully so, for air huffed out of his nose as his lips twitched, fingers that had dropped to your waist squeezing it gently. In unresolved doubt, you added, "I missed you too. Don't worry."

"I'm not," he replied, and the weight lifted off your shoulders. "Lie down."

"So demanding," you teased, though his tone was anything but firm.

You were met with an unimpressed look, and you merely grinned back as you climbed onto the bed, sitting cross legged atop it, staring up at him expectingly.

Instead of moving over you like you had expected, he crouched at the foot of the bed, holding his hands out on the mattress in front of you. Needing no more than the simple gesture, you untangled your legs and stretched them out in front of you, and he tugged you down towards the end of the bed, breath hitting the skin of your thighs deliciously. 

"I'm supposed to be making you feel good," you argued when his fingers trailed up the sides of your legs, finding the waistband of your pyjama shorts.

"Why?" he questioned, halting his movements as he searched your face. 

"Because you're the one who just got out of prison," his face scrunched at the verbal reminder. "Sorry. But... yeah. I have thought about making you come the day you got home like daily."

"Oh have you?" his eyebrows shot up, and it was then that your brain caught up to your running mouth, and your cheeks heated up. 

"Nope. Forget I said anything."

"No," he pushed himself up from the floor, moving his body over yours on the bed, successfully forcing you to lie back. "Tell me those thoughts."

"Spencer," you moaned, shaking your head as you buried your face into your hands, that he was a little too quick to catch and pry away. 

"I'm not going to judge you," he said, amused. "In fact, I aspire to know every single thought there is up in that pretty head of yours. Especially the ones about me. Please tell me."

"I just thought about making you come. There's nothing more exciting to it."

"Yes, but how?" 

"My mouth, I guess," you mumbled, voice going impossibly quiet. "I don't know."

"You're acting like you have never given me oral," he said, catching your gaze within milliseconds of you averting it, thumb and forefinger straightening your head again. 

"Nobody says oral, Spencer. Say head," your own face now scrunched up. 

"Lots of people say oral," he defended. 

"Yeah, old people. We are not old people."

"Fine, you're acting like you have never given me head." 

Despite it being a jab at him to take the heat off of you, the phrase coming out from his lips sounded exceptionally vulgar for what it was, and it only resulted in your stomach flipping. 

Finally, you regained some control over your own thoughts, and you found it in you to reply. "That's what I want to do. Because I want to make you feel good."

"You underestimate how much I gain from making you feel good," he countered, fingers lazily caressing the skin of your jaw as his eyes studied your face with an intensity that had your stomach flipping. 

"It cannot be as good as an orgasm," you huffed, stubbornly so. 

He nipped at your nose. "It is."

"Can we compromise?" 

"So you don't want me to give you oral?" his eyebrows rose. 

In every other situation, you would not be fighting him on this. In fact, he would probably have already gotten his foreplay of teasing and teetering you on the edge out of the way by now, and you'd be well and truly content. However, the forefront of your mind was still plagued by how little time Spencer had to take care of himself, and the last thing you needed him to be was at your service. Despite his protests. 

"Head," you corrected. "And no."

He searched for remnants of a lie for a few beats longer, before he nodded his head, giving in. "What's your compromise, honey?"

"I don't think there's a sexy way to say to just put it in me," you said, and his lips curled up into an amused smile, followed by a huff of laughter. 

"No, I don't think there is," he agreed. "I do think anything you say can be sexy, though."

You pulled a face, and you shook your head. "No. Don't say that ever again either."

"I can't compliment you, I can't give you ora—head," he rattled off. "Is there anything good I get out of this?"

"You get to fuck me?" you batted your eyelashes up at him. 

"Such vulgar language," he chastised, ducking his head when a hand of yours rose to swat him. 

Despite himself, his head had dropped to the crook of your neck, and he had begun placing feather like kisses along the skin that distracted you just enough to drop your hand back to the mattress beneath you.

Any other day, and you'd probably still be bickering with him until the minute he made you come. However, three months without even the faintest of touches from him left you overwhelmed with everything he did to you, and so the gentle kisses trailing down to the collar of your shirt were enough to destroy any coherent thoughts you could have. 

Cautiously, and with a touch so delicate, Spencer lifted your — his — shirt up your abdomen, fingertips leaving behind the warmest of trails as they skimmed along your skin. One quiet whine from you was all it took for him to hurry his teasing along, and soon enough your shirt was discarded. 

A quiet, sharp inhale of air was the other sound aside from your quickened breathing, and you felt tears sting your vision as another kiss was placed just below your now exposed collarbone. 

The time without you seemed to weigh nothing in his mind as he took every inch of you in separately, lips mapping out your body like it was the first time all over again, though still knowing exactly when to pause and pay attention to for the sweetest of sounds to be ripped from your throat. 

He liked to hear you. 

Fingers found your waist as his lips kissed down your sternum, then back up and over until they reached your nipple. He spent time on each breast, ignoring your impatient whining as he neglected the rest of you for a few minutes too long (in your opinion).

"Spencer," you scolded, and it was all it took for him to accept you were not in the mood to wait, and for him to decide he wasn't either. 

"Sorry, honey," he replied, voice impossibly soft as he returned his lips to your face, a kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth as his fingers found your shorts again. "Can I take these off?"

"I think we're incredibly out of balance," you replied. And though there wasn't really anything wrong with the sentence — you had certainly said it before — he still pulled back, an unrecognisable grey clouding his eyes. "What?"

"I want to keep my shirt on," was his response, the words inciting confusion to your face. 

"What? Why?"

"Do I need a reason?"

You wanted to scream that yes, he did. But did he? Wordlessly, you shook your head, but it didn't help the pang of worry in your chest. 

"Unless there's something like an embarrassing tattoo, I'm not going to judge you," you decided to say instead. "Did you get an embarrassing tattoo in prison?"

"No," he shook his head, and you were comforted by the amusement in his tone. "I didn't have the best time in prison."

"I know," you replied.

"And I wasn't very liked. By the men in there."

You knew that too, to an extent. You knew the bruises on his face weren't self inflicted. "You're liked by me."

"I know, sweet girl," a heart shatteringly sad smile stretched across his face as a hand lifted to your cheek. "It just isn't very pretty. And I don't want you to worry."

Well, now you were. Regardless, you nodded your head, turning your head to the side so you could kiss the palm of the hand on your face. "I won't worry, then."

"I want to keep my shirt on. Can that please be okay with you?" 

Silently, and after a debate inside your brain, you nodded your head. Gratefully, he pecked your lips once more, before his focus shifted back to you and your body. 

"Shorts. Can I take them off?" he asked, again.

"Yes."

"Thank you."

His fingers collected the fabric of your shorts' waistband, and gently pulled them down your legs, cool air washing over you despite the final leftover article of clothing on your body. You shivered, and you could hear him mumbling nearly incoherent apologies as he kissed your stomach.

"These too?" he then asked, eyes flickering between your face for confirmation, and the pair of underwear you still had residing on your body. You nodded your head, and he pulled them down too.

You do not remember a time ever fearing being naked beneath Spencer Reid's gaze, and that did not change even now, as an arguably different man drank in your entire body, the love he had for you not having wavered despite the passing of time. 

And you certainly did not fear the way one of his hands slid up your leg, seemingly soothingly, until it teetered on the edge of too far up the limb to be innocent, and he was intensely watching your face for every reaction you could possibly make. 

Achingly gently, his middle finger ran up the centre, collecting arousal you hadn't realised was there and knuckle gently bumping your clit, eliciting a quiet mewl from you. You watched him smile at the sound, dragging his finger back down, gathering more of your arousal until he was pushing the finger in.

Your eyes fluttered shut, the feeling oh so familiar, and yet seemingly foreign all at once. Too long, you decided then. Three months is too long.

Leaning back down, his lips brushed your jawline, the otherwise odd sensation of there being something — someone — inside of you balancing out with the pleasure that came from the comfort of it being him. And of course the delicate circles his thumb had begun to draw on your clit. 

"Did you do this while I was in prison?" he asked you, lips moving against your skin. 

"Touch myself?" 

"Mhm."

"Yeah," you said, voice breathless. "Was never good, though."

"No?" he asked, curling his finger inside of you and tugging a louder moan from your throat. "Why not?"

"Just never felt as nice. Not like you."

"Oh. I'm sorry, angel," he murmured, pulling his lips away so he could look at you again. Though, your eyes were still planted shut. "I'll make up for it then, yeah?"

You feverishly nodded your head, and he laughed. Fulfilling his promise, he sped up the motions of his finger and thumb, your hands grabbing ahold of fistfuls of the sheets, in hopes that it will provide some comfort from the overwhelming feeling of Spencer touching you again. 

"Can I add another finger?" he asked, and though slightly hesitant, you nodded your head. 

He waited a beat longer before fulfilling your request, and there was something obscene about how easily another finger entered you. Though, Spencer thought it was pretty, and your back arching was pretty, and yes, he had missed this and he had missed you and he was biting his tongue from telling you that all over again. 

"Spencer," a delicately breathy whine left your lips when the heel of his palm collided with your clit — thumb long forgotten once he had gotten distracted with thrusting fingers in and out of you. 

"Hm?"

Your eyes fluttered open to meet his, the kindest smile on his face reminding you just how much he adored you, and your heart sporadically beat in your chest. When you didn't say anything else, he quickened his ministrations, eliciting more whines and moans.

"Is two orgasms too much for tonight?" he asked you, the question seemingly innocent regardless of both it's undertones, and what he was currently doing to you. 

In hindsight you should've probably said yes. It most certainly would've hurried things along to something he would enjoy as much as you. However, if Spencer Reid fingering you was a religion, you were an eternally loyal follower, and you would do anything to keep him there for as long as you could. 

So you shook your head, murmuring a quiet, "No. I can do two," and allowing him to fasten his fingers once more. 

Fingers found and massaged that spot inside of you he had probably engrained into his brain, and he was leaning down to swallow the loud moan that followed from the feeling. Practiced motions tore the same sounds from your throat as he repeatedly brushed up against it, until your eyes were forced to squeeze shut once more, and hands that were once seeking solace in the sheets, found his wrist and wrapped around it. 

"I can't move if you're going to keep my arm locked up, angel," he said when your nails dug into his wrist, lips smiling against your skin. 

A few short jerks of his hand convinced you to let go of the death grip you had on him, instead returning them to the mattress.

Then he was doing that motion again, and again, and you were silently praying he would never stop. Although, if your moans were any indication to where you were at — and they were — Spencer wouldn't. 

Your hips bucking told him more than he needed to know, and the absence of his body above you when he lay down on the bed next to you was long forgotten when a splayed hand on your abdomen pushed you back down into the mattress, your heart stuttering at the feeling. 

Gentle whines of his name, and a repeated mantra of 'please, please, please' was the only thing your otherwise dismantled brain could come up with, and Spencer was relishing in the knowledge that he was doing this to you. And though it is something he knows he's done before, it had been far too long since and the reminder was always welcome. 

"I know, sweet girl," he said against you when your eyes came open and searched his desperately, walls fluttering around his fingers indicating just how close you were. 

"Please don't stop."

"I won't," he confirmed, punctuating the promise with his thumb returning to your clit. He had your best interest in mind — you knew that. He now wouldn't stop even if you begged him to. 

Overwhelming seemed too insignificant of a word to describe what you felt like when you came, nerve endings all over your body sparking, instead of just the ones he was stimulating. 

His thumb rubbing circles and his fingers thrusting in and out of you didn't falter until your shaking body had stilled and your strings of moans had diminished, slowly coming to a stop and leaving your body — seemingly — as fast as they had entered. 

The content smile on your face was interrupted with Spencer's hand lifting to your lips, and instinctively you parted them, already knowing exactly what he was after. 

His middle and ring fingers entered your mouth, and your face scrunched up despite yourself as you tasted yourself on them. He laughed at that — of course he did — and pulled them out soon after. 

"You do that every time," he murmured, hair tickling your skin as he placed open mouthed kisses over your shoulder, up towards your neck. 

"It tastes weird," you argued, and his teeth nipping your skin told you he disagreed. Though, he wasn't in the mood to argue, for he didn't say anything else on the matter. 

"Still got it in you for one more?" he asked you, pulling his head back so he could see you once again. 

"Yes."

"Good."

Your eyes watched him even as he rolled back to take his pants off, and the awkward smile he gave you provided the inkling of comfort that there was still the man from three months prior in there. 

"I really missed you, you know?" This time it was you saying it, piercing the air as his hand came down between your thighs to part them. The head of his cock nudged against you, brushing delicately through your folds and eliciting a quiet whimper from your lips. 

"I know," he answered, pressing kisses on your shoulder once more. "Are you okay?"

"Me? Yeah. I'm fine," you confirmed with a nod, confusion crossing your features all up until you learned why he was asking. 

A broken moan, choked and caught in your throat, left you when he painstakingly slowly pushed inside of you. There's not a lot going on inside your mind when he stops, your entire body aflame and equally desperate for more, as you were for him to take a moment here. 

"I love you," he breathed out, the words hurried and encouraging your heart to speed up, and your mind to melt even more. 

"I love you too," you said back, voice just as quiet, gently nudging hips ushering for him to move. 

"Impatient girl," he muttered, but you smiled nonetheless because he did (move). 

His thrusts were slow, and gentle, but you never truly minded how much time he took with you once you two were here. Even more so now, for you were on the same page as him, and you wanted to savour every single moment of this down to the second. 

A whimper left your lips, followed closely by the desperate whisper of his name, and lips that were still resting against your shoulder smiled. 

"I thought about this a lot," he said to you, his hand that was holding your thighs slightly open sliding up to find your clit. "I definitely shouldn't have."

"Why?" You knew why, but the thought of hearing him answer it aloud excited you a little. 

Unfortunately, he knew you better than that. "Don't play coy. You know why, honey."

"You're cruel," you huffed, and he laughed, rolling his hips to meet yours, earning another moan. "Maybe I don't."

"Use that wonderful imagination of yours, then," he answered, rubbing your clit at the same time as he moved his hips once more, effortlessly rendering you unable to respond to him again. 

A teenage boy probably could've lasted longer than the both of you, but you decided to blame it all on your already sensitive nerves from a prior orgasm, and the fact that Spencer Reid had not had you like this for over 2190 hours (not that he was counting).

Whimpers escaped your throat as he kept his hips thrusting into you at an achingly slow pace, while his fingers working on your clit did anything but. It was an aching juxtaposition that left you reeling for more, and Spencer was now the one shutting his eyes so he could hold onto some semblance of composure. 

"Spencer," you pleaded, and it was a quiet moan from behind you that told you he was exactly where you were. 

"I know, honey," he replied, the desperation in his voice jumpstarting your heart. "Need to come, yeah?"

"Mmhm," you nodded your head quickly, breathlessly moaning. "Please."

"You're going to. Don't worry. Don't need to beg, sweet girl."

Commingled moans and obscenely wet noises filled the air, and your hips stuttered as your stomach twisted into knots. 

Chanting his name like a prayer, you meet him wherever your two souls go in that moment, and it's a shuddering feeling as you come at the same time as him. For the first time in forever. 

His hand drops back to your thigh and he massages the muscles there gently, willing himself to stop before he crossed the line of overstimulation — not that you think you'd complain about that. 

There was an emptiness when he pulled out, but then he was kissing you again to make up for it, and you were smiling against his lips as you kissed him back. This time, without the fever. 

"How're you feeling?" he asked you, quietly. 

"Happy," you answered, forcing your heavy eyelids open when he pulled back. "How are you feeling?"

"Also happy," he agreed, and your heart soared. 

"Good."

"You need to go pee," he said, placing another kiss on your cheek, before he leaned his body away entirely. 

"Help?"

Arguably, you could do it yourself. Your limbs were tired, yes, and your mind was melting, but you were coherent enough to brave it alone. 

Thankfully, you didn't have to. 

He carried you to the bathroom, running the bath water after you had silently begged him for it with your eyes (looking between him and the empty bath with wide eyes and a jutted lip worked wonders), and leaving you to pee. 

"Are you getting in with me?" you asked him as wobbly legs akin to a fawn carried you over to the now full and steaming bathtub. 

"Do you want me to?"

Hesitantly, you nodded your head, fidgeting with your fingers in front of you. "But you'd have to take your shirt off. So you don't have to."

He studied your face for a moment longer, before he nodded, and fingers expertly worked at unbuttoning down the shirt. 

"I'm okay now. That's the important thing you have to remember, okay?" his words provided little comfort, but you nodded your head regardless. 

You had a suspicion already of what sight you were going to be met with, but it didn't stop the guilt settling into your chest when the shirt fell to the floor anyways. 

"Spence," you murmured, taking a hesitant step forwards, heart falling to your stomach. 

Bruises littered the skin, some fresh and still purple, others nearly healed and yellowing. But there were so many, and it was then that you were swallowing the rest of him in with your eyes, catching the bandage on his thigh. 

"What is that?" you nodded towards the covered wound, and when your eyes returned to his face again, he was staring at you with an unreadable expression. 

"A lot happened," he answered, quietly, before repeating, "I'm okay now."

You nodded your head, tears stinging your vision for nothing more than your ridiculous amount of empathy. "Can you tell me about it?"

"I will," he promised. "Eventually. Just not now, okay? I haven't processed it all yet."

"Okay," you replied, and his heart shattered at the sight of a tear slipping down your face. 

"Hey," he took ahold of your hand and tugged you closer to him, fingers running through your hair and resting at the base of your scalp. "I promise, honey. I'm not going to disintegrate from a few bruises."

"It isn't just a few," you answered, voice wavering. "There's so many."

"You have a heart too big for your chest," he decided to say instead, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. "Most of them don't even hurt now. Please believe me when I say I'm okay."

"I'm trying," your voice is thick with a sob caught in your throat. "I think I'm just really tired."

"Yeah," he crooned, agreeing. "Your body's released a lot of prolactin, which encourages sleep. Alongside the endorphins and dopamine that you're crashing from upon seeing this."

Wordlessly, you nodded your head, and he kissed the tip of your nose in an attempt to comfort. 

"Bath, then we can sleep, and we can talk more in the morning," he listed off, and you merely nodded your head once more, sniffling and wiping your eyes. 

"Okay."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[uraveragelonelysapphic]

Lavender

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: Nature had always been your life. How fitting that it could now cause your death.

Warnings: angst (with a happy ending!), mentions of vomiting and blood.

a/n: Hello hello! This is perhaps definitely ass, but I really wanted to write for these two because I'm hopelessly in love with them both. Please enjoy!

Hanahaki Disease 花吐き病 (Japanese) is a fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings, or when the victim dies. It can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim's romantic feelings for their love also disappear.

The natural world had always brought you peace. The softness of the grass under your feet, the gentle breeze blowing against your skin, the tender feeling of a flower blooming by your hand. You were a green witch, after all.

That was what had driven your family away. You had been 12 when you first sprouted a lily from your hand. You were more curious than scared; you had always sensed there was something that separated you from the rest of your family. Something about the earth’s treasures had always called to you. 

But even at your young age, you knew who you were living with. Sharing your abilities was a recipe for disaster; a sure fire way to have you outcast from your family.

So you did your best to keep your powers a secret, honing them in private, away from the watchful eye of your parents.

When you were 20, the inevitable happened. You were meant to be collecting berries for dinner when you had spotted a Willow Tree. It was worse for wear; you could feel it pleading for help as you approached it with a soft smile.

“It’s alright,” you soothed the tree as you gently placed your palms against the soil where its roots rested, “You’ll be alright.”

You closed your eyes, focusing on strengthening the roots as green magic pulsed out from your hands, through the soil, and into the tree itself, which began to heal instantly.

The snapping of a twig broke you out from your trance, turning your head to see your mother fleeing the scene. Your heart dropped as you quickly stood, moving to follow her.

She was too fast. By the time you had returned to your cabin, everyone and everything was gone. Your entire family had left you.

You fell to your knees in the middle of what was once your home, tears rolling down your face as you stared at the ground. Numb, broken, grieving.

You don’t know how long you stayed in that spot. You didn’t eat, you didn’t sleep, you just sat, staring, longing.

It wasn’t until a cold hand lifted your chin that you realized you weren’t alone anymore.

“Hello, darling,” a voice said softly, and you locked eyes with one of the most beautiful women you had ever seen. Her brown eyes were intoxicating, drawing you in. You tilted your head at her in confusion and intrigue. Who was she? What was she doing here?

“You’ve been sat here for a week, darling. No food, no water, no sleep. You’ll kill yourself if you keep up like this,” she said as she looked at you curiously.

Your eyes widened in realization. Death. 

She shook her head at you gently, sensing your fear. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m not taking you. It’s not your time,” she said, stroking your hair gently. 

“Thank you, Lady Death,” you stuttered out, in awe of her soft nature, directly contrasting the connotation of her very existence.

She smiled at you in response. “You can call me Rio, sweet girl.” 

There was a moment where you two merely looked at one another before she looked away, taking on a rather stern expression. “But I feel the need to tell you, sitting here and mourning your abandonment will only hurt you. It’s not your time. So don’t let it be. Get up, you’re coming with me.”

You stumble away from her in confusion. “I thought you weren’t taking me?”

She shook her head. “I’m not taking you to the afterlife. I am, however, taking you in. You’ll be staying with Agatha and I.”

You knew that name. You had read about it during your private studies.

“Agatha? Like…’The Witch Killer’ Agatha? That Agatha?” you asked cautiously.

Rio cackled, extending her hand to you.

You took it.

And so began the years you spent with Death and her lover, Agatha Harkness. The two women were vastly different to their reputations that had preceded them. Sure, they both had a fierceness to them. They had to, in order to survive their daily lives filled with corpses and taking souls.

But, with each other, they held such a softness. Rio often came back from a long day exhausted and drained. Death didn’t tend to be a fan favorite, and people made it evident, shouting at her and berating her as she escorted the souls of their loved ones to the afterlife. But Agatha greeted her at the door each evening with a hug, simply holding her for minutes on end, whispering sweet nothings in her ear as Rio visibly relaxed into her hold.

And Rio returned the favor, treating Agatha with a love full of tenderness and warmth. Comforting her after each nightmare, preventing her from overworking herself, giving her soft apology kisses after any arguments.

Before long, you knew almost everything about the pair. You learned about Agatha and her son, and his loss which nearly tore Agatha and Rio apart. How Agatha was only a ‘Witch Killer’ to keep Nicky alive as long as she could. How Rio held such anguish and guilt at having to take Nicky’s soul. How Agatha once held it against her but now loved her as fiercely as ever.

The two were made for each other, and though they welcomed you with a similar softness to that which they showed each other, you chalked it up to them taking pity on a girl who was abandoned by her family. You knew they could never love you like they loved each other.

But that didn’t stop you from falling for them. It happened subconsciously; you never meant for it to happen. But when your heart panged in longing at seeing Agatha and Rio curled up in each other’s arms in the living room, you knew it had happened. It panged even further as you looked down, noticing a red carnation that had bloomed in your palm against your will.

You were determined to ignore it. Surely you could enjoy their presence without focusing on the way your stomach flipped when Rio smiled at you, or how your heart seemed to triple in size whenever Agatha would stroke your hair in affectionate greeting. But what you had to do became evident one morning.

“We’re headed out for a bit, doll,” Agatha said as you sat at the table eating the breakfast she had made for you.

You nodded. “Okay! Don’t stay out too late, I’m making your favorite for dinner, Ags.”

She beamed at you, making butterflies flare up in your stomach so violently they made you uneasy. “You’re a gem. Isn’t she just?” She turned to Rio, squeezing her hand gently.

“Oh, yeah, she’s the sweetest,” Rio replied, winking at you as you feel your heart beat faster.

The two bid you a final farewell before leaving for the day. As soon as they left, you began to feel an uncomfortable itch in your throat. You furrowed your brows, attempting to clear your throat to ease the discomfort, but to no avail. Eventually you began coughing. It was a cough that made you feel sick, made you feel like something was really wrong.

And when you coughed into your palm and saw the petals of daffodils, your suspicions were confirmed.

You had heard of Hanahaki disease but had always believed it to be a myth. Your heart dropped at the realization that your love for these women was going to kill you.

You had to leave.

So you did. You packed up that day and left, traveling solo for centuries as you studied the disease you suffered from. 

Luckily, it impacted witches differently than humans. As your lifespan tended to be a lot longer, the disease was longer lasting; escalating at a slower pace before killing you altogether.

For the first hundred years, it had mostly been a consistent burning in your throat and coughing up various flower petals. Miserable, but bearable nonetheless.

After those hundred years, it began to escalate at a quicker pace as the flowers bloomed quicker and sharper. After 200 years of this disease, you were weaker than ever before. Coughing constantly, a never ending sensation of your insides burning, vomiting flower petals and blood.

Yes, there was the option of surgery, but you couldn’t bring yourself to allow that option to become a reality. You didn’t want to forget the love you held for Rio and Agatha. They had shown you kindness and softness like none other. You would die before you let yourself remove the memory of them from your very soul.

And you were getting close. You knew your time was running out.

And so, after another long day of slowly dying, you stared up at the sky, longing for your loves, even though you knew it could never be.

It was then that you felt yourself being sucked into the ground beneath you, and you let out a yelp at the shock.

Before you knew it, you were clawing your way out of the ground, now in a completely unfamiliar place. You were on a path in a strange, dystopian-looking forest. You could feel the magic buzzing around you as you pulled yourself up from the ground.

“Who is that?”

“I thought we already got a green witch?”

You heard a gasp and looked up to meet a pair of blue eyes you had longed for night after night for the past 200 years.

“Agatha,” you said quietly, tears welling in your eyes before you could stop them.

A familiar voice said your name and you shuddered at the sound.

“Rio.”

The two women stared at you and you stared back, unsure of what to say.

“So, are you gonna introduce us to the new girl, or…” a witch in a pink dress asked and you broke your intense stare-down to introduce yourself by name to the coven of witches. 

“I’m a green witch,” you explained.

“We’ve already got one,” a teenage boy said, pointing at Rio awkwardly.

You knew well and good that Rio wasn’t here as a green witch, she was here on work business, but you didn’t want to blow what seemed to be a cover, and you also didn’t have a damn clue where you were, so you played along.

“Well, you know summoning spells, you never know how many you’re gonna get…” you tried cautiously, still feeling the gaze of your former housemates burning into the side of your head.

“Y/N, a word?” Agatha finally asked, and you gulp before nodding and following her and Rio to a secluded part of the forest.

“Hey guys…what’s up?” you asked with an awkward smile, trying to ease the tension.

Rio narrowed her eyes at you, crossing her arms. “What’s up is that you up and left 200 years ago without so much as a word to either of us. Care to explain?”

You tried to look to Agatha for support, but she wouldn’t meet your eyes. Your stomach turned at the thought that you had upset these women you loved so deeply.

You took a deep breath, staring at the ground. “I had some business to attend to. I didn’t want either of you to get wrapped up in it.”

“Was your business ‘killing yourself?’ You look rough,” Rio said, a teasing smirk hiding her worry.

“Thanks,” you rolled your eyes, some tension releasing from your shoulders at the knowledge that Rio wasn’t angry enough to ignore you.

“You left without so much as saying goodbye,” Agatha said quietly. She sounded so hurt, and you couldn’t believe you had brought this on the pair, but you knew they deserved to love each other in peace, not be burdened at being the cause of your death.

“Ags, I’m really sorry, I should’ve said goodbye, I just-“ you were cut off as a violent coughing fit shook you, causing both women to raise their eyebrows at you.

You turned away from them as you coughed a plumeria flower out of your throat. You quickly slipped the flower into your pocket and wiped a bit of blood from the corner of your mouth before turning to face the two witches again.

The eyes on you were soft and concerned, but you shook your head at them, shutting down their questions before they even asked. “I’m fine, just a cough.”

Rio opened her mouth to protest when a witch sporting orange streaks in her hair interrupted.

“I’m sorry to get in the middle of whatever this reunion is, but I think it’s time for our next trial.”

You furrowed your brows. “Trial?” You began to realize that you had no idea where you actually were.

“Duh, we are on the Witches Road, after all!” The teenage boy exclaimed, leaving you even more confused.

The road isn’t real. You knew all about the song that Agatha had used to lure her victims in. 

“Wait, but-“ you stopped yourself from questioning any further when you saw Rio subtly shake her head at you, a silent plea to not reveal the truth of the road to the group.

You nodded in understanding, deciding to save your questions for later. “Alright, where’s the next trial?”

You looked up to see the group staring at something behind you. Agatha and Rio were particularly fascinated by it.

You turned around and your stomach dropped. You saw a cottage. It’s covered in vines and moss, making it appear worn down. But you thought it was beautiful. Perhaps that’s because it was yours. And Agatha’s. and Rio’s.

You looked at the path leading to the cottage. It was covered in flowers. You took a deep breath.

You just got here and already you were being given a trial.

As you and the rest of the coven approached the cottage, you couldn’t help but turn to the women you desire the most for comfort. 

Rio had an arm wrapped around Agatha’s waist, her thumb gently stroking the witch’s hip bone. Agatha looked up at her, smiling in gratitude, and Rio pressed a soft kiss to Agatha’s forehead.

Your stomach churned at the sight, and you felt bile rising in your throat. You painfully swallowed it back down, cringing at the effect it had on your throat, already raw from the thorns slowly tearing it to shreds.

“You good?” The witch in the pink dress asked, and you nodded.

“Yeah. Let’s just get this over with.”

The inside of the cottage looked just like you thought it would.

Home.

The same furniture, same pillows and blankets, same decor on the walls.

Your eyes filled with tears as you remembered all the time you had spent here with the women you loved more than anything.

“Doll,” a gentle voice said, and you turned to see Agatha looking at you softly. She approached you slowly, holding a hand out for you, but you took a step back.

“I’m fine,” you said, brushing your face and continuing to move through the house.

“This is new,” you heard Rio’s voice from the room resembling your bedroom. 

You entered and were greeted with a tapestry on your wall. It showed 5 flowers. Below the woven flowers was a message:

The words she never spoke will slowly begin to choke. For if they never cared, a life cannot be spared.

“It’s my life,” you breathed out, staring in horror at the plants on the tapestry.

Rio nodded, running her fingers along the tapestry as she identified the plants.

“Lily. Rebirth,” she began.

“The birth of your powers, the birth of you as a witch,” Agatha identified.

“Willow Tree. Loss.”

“The loss of your kin. Being abandoned by those you called family,” Agatha continued.

“Red Carnations. Deep, affectionate love.”

Agatha went silent at this, her brows furrowing.

“Daffodil. Unrequited love.”

Rio and Agatha were visibly shaken by this point. What hadn’t you told them? You were in love? With who?

Rio snapped her head to look at you upon seeing the last flower.

“Plumeria,” she said grimly.

Agatha’s eyes were wide. “What does that mean?” 

Rio only continued to look at you.

“Rio, what does that mean???”

Her question was answered as you began to cough violently again, the sheer force of it bringing you to your knees.

Agatha rushed over to you in a panic. She looked at the rest of the coven in terror. “What’s happening to her?” she cried as you began to choke.

“The words she never spoke will slowly begin to choke,” the teenager said.

“Hanahaki disease,” the witch in pink breathed out.

“What the hell is that?” Agatha was crying now, watching as petals and thorns made their way out of your mouth covered in blood.

“A disease that affects someone facing unrequited love,” Rio said in realization.

As she put the pieces together she knelt in front of you in an instant, anger coursing through her.

“You left because of this,” she said, her voice low, “You thought we didn’t love you, so you left?” she asked incredulously.

“Didn’t want—you to—-see me die,” you gasped out, fighting for air as you began to cough up more and more blood.

“You’re not dying, Y/N. I won’t take you,” Rio choked out, her sorrow getting the best of her. 

“Better this way,” you managed, and Agatha choked out a sob.

“It’s not, doll, we love you, we love you,” she cried helplessly.

The whole coven stood in shock. The two women they feared the most were in the most pain they had seen since they began to walk the road.

Both women hold you tight, desperately trying to convince you of their love.

Rio grabbed your face to look at her. “There’s a reason I took you in that day, mi vida,” she whispered as tears fell down her face, “I felt pulled to you. I knew you would be special to me. Aggie and I love you so much, please believe me.”

She leaned in and pressed her lips to yours, ignoring the blood and petals and thorns and focusing on you. Just you.

When she pulled away you gasped, finally able to gather air into your lungs.

Relief was visible throughout the entire coven. They had only just met you, but seeing how your existence being threatened had brought absolute devastation to two of the most intimidating women on earth had shaken them.

As you began to breathe again, you sagged against Agatha.

“You’re okay, doll, you’re okay now,” she assured you as she gently ran a hand through your hair.

The door to the cottage slammed open, and the rest of the coven took it as their cue to leave, giving you three a moment to recover.

As you laid against Agatha, you looked at Rio with tired eyes. “Sorry for getting blood on you,” you rasped, causing the woman to roll her eyes at you.

“You’re such an idiot, you know that?” She scolded before taking both of your hands in hers. “I. Love. You.”

Tears filled your eyes at her earnest confession. “I’m so sorry I ran,” you began, your body shaking, “I saw the love you had for each other, and how much you had healed each other, and I couldn’t hurt that. I didn’t want you to see me die. It wouldn’t have been your fault,” you said brokenly.

Agatha shushed you, kissing the top of your head. “You shouldn’t have run. It would’ve saved us all 200 years of agony,” she said, and you hang your head in guilt.

But then you felt a cold hand lifting your chin. And suddenly you were 20 years old again, looking into the eyes of Lady Death herself. 

But this time, instead of looking at you with curiosity, she looked at you with something much stronger. She looked at you with love.

“But we’ve got you back now,” she said, smiling tearfully at you, “so we’re taking you in. Is that okay?”

Your body wracked with sobs as you nodded, and both women were holding you in an instant. Your back was against Agatha’s front as her arms wrapped around your waist. Rio straddled you, her arms wrapping around your neck as she pulled you close.

And out of the cracked wooden floor of that cottage, something bloomed.

Lavender. Healing. Love.