#god how am I supposed to just go to sleep after reading this

[schemmentigfs]

can i request a fluff one shot where reader has to go on a trip (either for work or family reasons) and melissa meets them at the airport when they arrive back and is just super domestic once back at their shared apartment 🥺🥺

In the Quiet of Absence.

Summary: After spending a month in Paris for a work conference, you finds yourself longing for the warmth of home and, more than anything, for Melissa.

Tags: @lisaannwaltersbra @italianaidiota <3

You sink into the plush hotel bed, a sigh escaping your lips as you look out at the city lights glimmering against the Parisian skyline. It’s breathtaking—no doubt about that—but after almost a month, even the magic of Paris can't dull the ache you feel right now.

“God, I miss her so much…” you mutter to yourself, rubbing your temple as you glance around the luxurious room.

Your right hand drifts to the nightstand, fingers brushing over your phone. Without thinking, you pick it up, your thumb tracing over Melissa’s name. You can picture her asleep back home, curled up in bed, her auburn hair spilling across the pillow, maybe even with little Sweet Cheeks nestled at her chest. The thought brings a goofy but genuine grin to your lips as you press ‘record voicemail.’

With the phone cradled in your hand, you start speaking quietly, as if she could somehow hear you through the miles of the ocean.

“Good night, Lis. I know you won’t see this until morning since you’re probably fast asleep right now. Paris is... well, it’s Paris. Beautiful, busy, a little overwhelming. Everyone says how lucky I am to be here, but honestly, it just makes me miss you more. I walked by a café today, and I kept thinking how nice it would be to sit there with you, sipping coffee, people-watching, maybe listening to you rant about the tourists. It’s just not the same without you here to share it with.”

Sighing softly, you add. “I spent the day at the conference, and honestly, I found myself daydreaming about our couch and Sweet Cheeks curled up between us. I wish you could’ve seen the view from the top of the Eiffel Tower. You would’ve loved it. I tried to take some pictures, but they just don’t do it justice.”

As you keep talking about the conference through voicemail, the people you’ve met, and the places you’ve seen, you can’t help but let your thoughts drift to home.

Home.

It’s hard being so far from home, but even harder being far from her. Paris might be beautiful, a dream city for most, but without Melissa next to you, it feels empty, just walls and skies. You’d flown here for work, a month-long conference that was supposed to be exhilarating, a stepping stone in your writing career. And while there’s been value in it, each day is a little heavier than the last. Every stroll past the Eiffel Tower, every quiet hotel room evening, only reminds you of how much you miss the life you share with her.

You’d never imagined how hard it would be to be apart from her. Sure, you two had spent nights apart before, but a whole month? It was almost unbearable. You miss everything about her—her laugh, the way she fills the room with her warm, unfiltered energy, and the little things she does just to make you smile. It’s like there's a part of you that just isn't here, and every day, that longing grows heavier.

Everything here felt too polished, too perfect. You missed the little imperfections that made life with the second grade teacher so damn beautiful. How Melissa would wrap her arms around you in the mornings, still groggy from sleep. Her face when she’d forget where she put her reading glasses only for you to find them perched on her head, or the way she’d tease over making the perfect cup of coffee each morning. The way she would immediately fuss over your packing, making sure you had everything you needed, and the soft hum of her voice as she reassured you that everything would be just fine while you were away.

Home was with Melissa Schemmenti, and every part of you ached to be there.

Your girlfriend’s voice on the phone helps – her late-night calls about what went wrong at Abbott Elementary that day, the accent you love laced with the warmth of home. “Mon amour,” you’d whisper into the phone during one of your daily conversations, a term of endearment that wraps around both your hearts, even across the miles. But her voice isn’t enough, not when you’re used to seeing her every night, sharing meals, her touch grounding you in a way nothing else can.

With a gruff, you close your laptop, packing away notes you’d barely read. That’s when you hear the knock on your door, breaking the silence.

“Bonsoir, madame,” one of the hotel staff says politely when you respond. “Dinner is ready downstairs in the lobby.”

“Merci, je serai là dans cinq minutes.” Your answer is quick, almost robotic. Despite enjoying the culinary wonders of the place, you can’t help but prefer the meals of a specific redhead who knows everything about cooking and Italian cuisine.

“Pas étonnant, si vous avez besoin d’autre chose, nous sommes à votre disposition.”

You thank them with a smile, but you’re already glancing at your phone, at the time difference that keeps you apart, counting down the days – just three more – until you’re back in her arms.

Back at the bedroom, after finishing dinner, you’re restless. As much as the meal was filling, your thoughts are back at home with her. You finish up the small dessert in your room, the excitement building to be back in her arms, in the life you’ve built together. The night stretches on, a quiet contrast to the bustling city outside, and your sleep feels even further away.

You slip beneath the covers, staring at the ceiling as the quiet surrounds you. Sleep eludes you as memories of the older woman flood your mind—her lavender smell, the comfort of her presence. Everything.

“Just three more days,” you repeated the phrase, over and over again. Feeling like a mantra.

Closing your eyes, the loneliness is creeping in again, but the thought of returning keeps you anchored, making the distance feel just a little bit smaller.

It won’t be long now.

Back in Philadelphia, Melissa is dealing with her own form of aching loneliness. She’d thought she could handle a month without you; after all, she’d done it before. But the days had dragged on longer than expected, and each night without you next to her was another reminder of how deeply entwined you both were.

The redhead’s days are packed with the usual chaos at Abbott Elementary, but somehow it doesn’t quite fill the space you left behind. She comes home to an empty apartment that feels colder without the warmth of your laughter echoing through it. Sweet Cheeks, her classroom guinea pig, has become an unlikely companion, curled up in a little cage by her couch. She started bringing him home on weekends, claiming it was to keep the kids excited for Monday mornings. But if she were being honest with herself, she liked the company—even if it was just a ball of fur and squeaks. Sweet Cheeks always listened to her rants about the day, his tiny, twitching nose and big eyes a small comfort in your absence.

She talks to him about you sometimes, about the things she knows you’re seeing in Paris. “She’s probably at some fancy shit right now, buddy,” she mutters, throwing him a piece of lettuce as she leans back on the couch. “Probably complaining about how boring those rich dumbasses are.”

Melissa had never really considered herself to be sentimental. She was tough, independent, and good at taking care of herself. But after so many years of you two being together, this past month had taught her just how much you’d become her home. She finds herself missing the little things—your goodnight kisses, the way you leave your books stacked messily by the bed, the warmth of your hand reaching for hers whenever you pass each other in the kitchen.

She sighs and reaches for her phone, scrolling through your photos, lingering on the ones you’ve sent her from Paris. There’s one of you smiling in front of the Eiffel Tower, looking radiant with the city’s lights sparkling behind you. She can’t help but smile, even if her chest aches. “God, you’re beautiful,” she whispers, running a thumb over the screen. The animal lets out a small squeak, almost as if he’s in agreement, and she chuckles. “Yeah, champ. I’m the luckiest gal in Philly, huh?”

Her phone buzzes with a voicemail notification, and her heart jumps a little. It’s your voice, soft and intimate, filling the quiet of her apartment as you talk about your day. You talk about the conference, the view from the Eiffel Tower, and how much you wish she were there. The familiar sound of your voice brings an ache to her chest, but it also fills her with a sense of peace.

She presses the phone close to her heart once your message ends, letting out a shaky sigh. “Just three more days,” she says to herself, mirroring your own anxiety. She settles back into the couch, Sweet Cheeks nestled beside her, as she listens to your message one more time, the sound of your voice helping her feel just a little closer to you.

The nights for your girlfriend are the hardest. She lies awake, staring at the ceiling, longing for the warmth of your body beside her. Sometimes, she’ll grab the spare pillow, pulling it close to her chest as if it could somehow substitute for your presence. She buries her face into it, breathing deeply, as if she can still catch a faint trace of your scent.

She’s tough, but she’s not ashamed to admit that she’s counting down the hours until you come back.

When Saturday morning rolls around, Melissa stands by the sink, her sleeves pushed up, humming a soft tune as she washes the breakfast dishes. Sunlight filters gently through the curtains, casting a cozy glow over the kitchen and giving her that familiar sense of home she craves more than anything right now. Sweet Cheeks squeaks from his spot on the counter, and she reaches over, giving him a gentle scratch.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Mama will be back soon, okay?”

Just as the green eyed woman was about to finish the last dish, her phone rang. Seeing your name, Her heart skipped, her fingers fumbling with the dish towel as she hurriedly picked up.

“Hey, amore mio,” she greeted, her voice soft and warm, as if she hadn’t heard from you in months, though it had only been a few days.

“Hey, Lissa! Guess what?” you said, excitement bubbling through the phone.

She grinned, already thrilled just hearing your voice. “What? Tell me!”

“I’ll be back tomorrow!”

Melissa let out a little laugh, caught between disbelief and pure joy. “Shit, really? Tomorrow? I missed you so much!” The words escaped her before she could hold back. She looked down, feeling a bit silly for how much she’d let herself miss you.

Sweet Cheeks, catching onto her excitement, squeaked louder at his feet, little paws tapping against the kitchen counter as though to join in. “See, even Sweet Cheeks missed you,” your girlfriend joked. “I think he’s been going nuts without his other mama.”

You laughed on the other end, and Melissa felt warmth spread through her. She didn’t want to admit it outright, but it had been a long, lonely few days without you, the routine things—the cooking, the tidying, even sitting on the couch—felt empty without you there.

“Well, you just hold tight. Tomorrow, we’ll make up for lost time,” you replied, and she could practically feel your smile through the call.

“That’s perfect. Love you, hon.”

“Love you more.”

After you hung up, Melissa wandered to the bedroom, feeling a deep swell of emotions, her fingers brushing over her pocket where a small, carefully hidden velvet box lay. She’d been carrying it around for days, checking it repeatedly, rehearsing the words she wanted to say once you were home again. The plan was all there—she’d wait for a quiet Sunday morning, like the ones she cherished so much, and then she’d ask.

Unable to resist, she pulled one of your shirts from the closet, bringing it close to her nose. The faint scent of you clung to it, bringing her right back to those lazy Sunday mornings that had become her favorite part of your life together.

She let herself imagine it: you, padding out of bed with only your underwear on, your hair a mess and your eyes still heavy with sleep as you’d pull her into a hug from behind. Every time, she’d grumble a bit, pretending she wasn’t as soft as she actually felt in those moments. You’d tug her back into bed with you, insisting on snuggling under the covers while she made her usual complaints about wanting to get up and start the day.

But truthfully, she loved being wrapped up in your arms as the little spoon. She felt a rare kind of safety there, the weight of your arms around her, the warmth of your chest against her back. She’d pretend to make a bad face, grumbling softly, but she’d inevitably relax, letting out the soft snores you always teased her about later.

And then, just when everything felt perfectly peaceful, Sweet Cheeks would start squeaking from the foot of the bed, weaving around your legs in hopes of an early morning cuddle.

Melissa smiled to herself, clutching the shirt close as she pictured the day ahead, wondering how you’d react when you saw her there, waiting to welcome you home—and how your face would look when she finally asked the question she’d been holding in her heart.

The next day, after what felt like an eternity, she drove to the airport, her heart racing with every step. When she finally spotted you through the crowd, her heart just about burst. She didn’t hold back, rushing over and pulling you into a tight hug, her face buried in your shoulder.

“I missed you so much.”

You held her just as tightly, murmuring, “Missed you too, Mel. So, so much.”

As you made your way back to the apartment, your laughter filled the car, and Melissa soaked in every second of it, feeling like the pieces of her world had finally fallen back into place.

Once home, she proudly led you to the kitchen, where she had your favorite meal prepared and ready, the smell of marinara sauce filling the space. Sweet Cheeks squeaked in delight at the sight of you, and you scooped him up, letting him nuzzle against you in greeting.

After dinner, you settled on the couch together, wrapped up in each other, your sweet guinea pig resting contentedly in his popsicle stick home nearby. The redhead leaned into you, her heart racing again as she reached into her pocket, fingers brushing over the small box.

She took a deep breath, turning to you with all the love she’d been waiting to share. “I know it’s just us, and this fella,” she said softly, glancing down with a shy smile. “But… I couldn’t imagine my life without you. So, I was thinking, maybe… we could make this forever?”

“Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti, what are you doing?” you gasp confused, while blinking.

She cleared her thoart and kneeled down. “Y/N. Will you marry me?”

Your eyes widened as she pulled out the box, revealing the ring she’d been carrying. In that moment, with tears in your eyes, you nodded, pulling her close in an embrace filled with all the quiet love and warmth that had defined your life together.

And as the night wore on, Melissa held you close, feeling finally, deeply at home.

[parasocialqueen]

THE PARALLELS WHEN NEIL IS IN THE NEST WITH TSC ARE SICKENING. Wdymmmmm “jean was forbidden to use French but he’s whispered it to Neil when Riko wasn’t close enough to hear.”

I AM GOING TO LOSE MY FUCING MIND ISTG

[niallandtommo]

.

[jeonsweetpea]

Will It Fit?

Roommate!AU | Roommate!Jungkook x Reader

genre: fluff, smut, comedy, lil angst, slight idiots to lovers

rating: explicit

description: So what if your roommate caught you masturbating? At least he forgot about it the next day. But he can’t exactly forget the big dildo you left in your shared bathroom…

word count: 6.7k

warnings: size kink, JK has a big dick (no, really), slight pain kink, light choking, dirty talk, Dom!JK, flustered/shy JK at first, unprotected sex (this is fiction, we all wanna be raw-dogged by JK okay), lube, JK loves OC’s panties a LOT, fingering, mentions of masturbation, OC gets embarrassed at first but JK is sweet about it, oral sex (male & female receiving), cursing, Soft Dom!JK, JK is overly concerned with how big your dildo is, embarrassing moments from both parties, spanking, prone bone, creampie, confession scenes, 

a/n: As soon as I saw JK’s OJO face from that GCF, it kicked me into gear to write this. I’ve had this idea for SO long, but never had the motivation to finish it. I was supposed to release it last winter, so hope you’re all excited for it! Asks and reblogs are much appreciated (I read them all!). Also, much love to @jkeuphoriadreamland for bouncing ideas around with me. 

“[Y/N], I can hear you in there.” 

The muffled, disgruntled voice came from the other side of your door. Your eyes fluttered open and your hand stilled in your panties, your heart rate spiking. Maybe if you didn’t move a muscle, he’d go away. 

“I know you’re up,” he added. You rose up from your bed.

“Um… exactly what did you hear?” you squealed, face burning up at your terrible acting skills.

“Unlock this door.”

You didn't know what compelled you to saunter over and open the door a mere crack, but oh the sight before you was almost worth the humiliation. Jungkook was in nothing but gray sweats that sat dangerously low on his hips. He had a bad case of bedhead, but his locks looked so soft that you wanted nothing more than to grab onto them and make out with his beautiful lips, which were captivating you just as much as that intense gaze of his. 

“Hey… you…” you said with a meek smile, which he did not return.

“It’s 2 AM in the morning. I have work at 5. As hot as you sound, we either do something together so we both get satisfied or you let me get my rest because I am incredibly frustrated right now.”

Your eyes widened at his curt response. You’ve never seen him so tense, his tongue prodding the inside of his cheek as his glare bore into you. He leaned against your door frame with one arm, leaning in close enough to make you break eye contact. He tapped on the wooden frame with his index finger, awaiting your response. 

“Sorry…” 

God, you sounded absolutely pathetic . 

“Is that all your pretty lips are good for? Apologizing?” Before you could respond, he let out a tsk sound and retreated back to his bedroom. You stood there in a trance until his door shut loudly, snapping you out of it. You wondered if he realized how much worse he left you than when he found you. 

Fuck, was he always this hot when mad? 

You went back to your room after closing the door. Climbing into bed, you got under the covers and laid flat on your back deep in thought. The only reason you were masturbating in the first place was because your room was freezing cold. You thought the heater was fixed, but your room was somehow still the coldest one in the apartment. You knew you’d never be able to go to sleep at this rate, so you decided to do something that would tire you out and hopefully lull you into the rest you craved.

It was supposed to be simple. You, your hand, your phone, and sweet, sweet release. Damn Jungkook for interrupting you. It’s bad enough his room was nice and toasty while you were suffering. Yeah, you heard his loudass snores. You assumed he was deep in the REM cycle so how the hell did he catch your moans? Ugh.

If he was so annoyed with you, then he should have warmed you up instead!

You shook your head and got under the covers, groaning at your lewd thoughts. 

He’s my roommate. And he’s too good of a roommate for me to fuck things up. 

“Is that all your pretty lips are good for? Apologizing?”

Those words echoed in your mind. The way he changed his tone to a lower register with his Busan dialect slipping through was incredibly sexy. It was the perfect mix of frustration and anger and made your thighs rub together in want. Leaning over your nightstand, you opened the drawer and grabbed a velvet drawstring bag. Slipping off your pajama shorts, you pulled out your trusty dildo. Impatient, you closed your eyes and imagined Jungkook taking you right then and there. However, the moment you allowed the tip of the dildo to touch your entrance, all pleasure was lost. It was cold!

“Damn it…” you muttered. “I gotta warm it up. Ugh!”

You left your room in frustration and entered the bathroom, turning the sink on to the hottest setting and running it over your toy. 

This might’ve been the most desperate masturbation session you’ve ever had, but you didn’t care. This was all Jungkook’s fault!

The next morning was Saturday. You were eating your breakfast on the kitchen island while mindlessly scrolling on your phone when Jungkook came out of his room. As soon as you two locked eyes, you almost choked on your food and had to chug some water to calm down. The man, confused, ruffled his hair and watched you through drowsy eyes.

“Are you okay?” he said, followed by a yawn. 

You nodded as you beat your chest with your fist to get everything down. “Yeah… I just… didn’t expect you to be home. I thought you had work.”

“Oh,” He sounded more awake now. “I read my schedule wrong. Turns out I’m off every other Saturday now.”

“... Oh. Cool.”

He circled around the kitchen island to get to the fridge and you recalled last night’s events, mortified he had heard you. Should you apologize again? After all, you’re both two grown adults; there’s nothing to be ashamed about. If you didn’t say something now, that icky feeling would only fester inside you. 

“Hey Jungkook.”

“Yeah?” he said from behind the fridge door.

“About yesterday… I hope you can forget all about it.”

As the refrigerator door shut, you were greeted by the sight of the most adorable man sipping a carton of banana milk. His eyes were wide and brimming with curiosity from your words. 

“Did something happen yesterday? I was knocked out.”

You blinked at him twice. “Do you… not remember talking to me last night?”

“Hmm? I did? I was fast asleep, don’t remember a thing.” He took the seat next to you. “Why? What did we talk about?”

Pure relief washed over you like a tidal wave as you shook your head. “Oh, nothing much. My room’s a bit too cold. It was hard for me to sleep.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll talk to the landlord. Do you want to sleep with me?” You shot him an incredulous look and he began to stutter. “I-I mean! Sleep in my bed! Not with me in it. Unless you wanted to—ah—fuck me!

There. That’s the Jungkook you knew. He’s never crossed the line and flirted with you, so you didn’t either out of respect. But… It was too hard to resist teasing him. This was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

“Unless I wanted to… fuck you?” you repeated innocently. This was new territory for you—teasing him. His flustered reactions were so damn adorable though. The way his nose scrunched and his eyes darted around everywhere except for your face. If anyone was watching you, they’d swore you had hearts in your eyes. 

He set his drink down and proceeded to cover his face with both hands, panicking at his poor choice of words. “That didn’t come out right. Oh god… this is embarrassing.”

You covered your mouth to stifle your giggles. “It’s okay. I don’t want to peg you—I mean, take your bed.”

Jungkook dropped his hands, speaking the next sentence in pouts. “Hey, I don’t want to be peg—not the point. No, seriously. My room’s really warm.”

“I mean… if you really want me in your room, all you have to do is ask, you know,” you remarked. Jungkook’s cheeks were flushed with a tinge of pink, adding an extra charming element to his already cute self. Were you being too bold? 

It didn’t matter because seeing how his lips trembled and how he could barely hold himself together was fun to watch.

“I didn’t realize it was that easy…” he mumbled, more to himself than you. You tilted your head at him and he noticed how you crossed one arm over another “Not that I’m calling you easy!”

“Uh huh. I’m watching you, Jeon Jungkook. Hmph.”

“No, wait. I’m sorry.”

You placed your index finger on his lips to shush him, even going so far as to tap his lip piercing teasingly. “Is that all your pretty lips are good for? Apologizing?” 

You watched as his eyes widened once more and that caused you to realize what you were doing. My god. Using his own words against him was satisfying, but all this newfound confidence was going to get you in trouble. You cleared your throat and withdrew your hand, grabbing your breakfast plate and heading over to the sink before things could escalate.

“Uh… I’m gonna go to the gym. Run some errands or something,” Jungkook stammered as he got up, nearly toppling out of his stool. You bit your lip to hold in your laughter as he recomposed himself. Walking in the same direction, he flinched when you got near his proximity. “W-What are you doing?”

He’s so cute when nervous.

“Nothing. Grabbing my keys. I’m heading out too.”

“O-Okay.”

Your smile made his heart rate escalate. “Okay. I’ll see you later.”

You spent the day with your closest friends on a brunch date, followed by a trip to the mall, and then hot cocoa in the evening. It was much needed after the week you had and after bidding them farewell, you went back to your apartment. Upon entering, you took off your shoes and put them on the shoe rack.

“Jungkook? Are you home?” you called out. 

“Yeah! I just finished showering!” he called back in the distance. You went further into the apartment and plopped down on the couch. 

“Damn,” you muttered, rubbing your arms. “Wish I could have showered with him. It’s so cold outside…”

As if on cue, Jungkook called for you again. “[Y/N]? Could you come here?”

You took off your purse and slowly rose up from the couch, hesitant. This had to be a dream. Why would he need you to come to the bathroom? He must’ve forgotten a towel. Or a t-shirt. Or pants. The specifics didn’t really matter because your hormones were going berserk at the possibilities. 

You walked through the narrow hallway and stood in front of the bathroom door, excited at the thought of teasing him again. “I’m here. What’s up? Did you forget your towel or something? Silly boy.”

The door swung open and the shit-eating grin you had on your face dropped to the floor in an instant. 

“Why is there a dildo in the bathroom, silly girl?”

Shit. Quick, say something. Anything. Don’t just stand there like a gaping fish! Oh dear, how many seconds have passed? You must look like a total idiot.

Fuck! I forgot I left it here!!!

“Well…” you started to say, “I’m assuming it’s yours.”

Out of all the things your roommate could be calling you for, this was not on your radar. The awkwardness was more suffocating than the steam from his blazing hot shower minutes ago and you wished it lingered around long enough to make you disappear. 

Jungkook made a puckered face at your accusation, picked up the object, and shook it side to side, the bendy silicone material flopping everywhere. His big doe eyes were the highlight of his classic OJO face, the blatant confusion so adorable if you weren’t absolutely mortified. For the second time this week. 

God, and how could you even focus when he was dressed in nothing but a towel, his hair still slightly damp. The bulging muscles of his biceps were a feast for the eyes as well as his tattooed sleeve. You yearned for the day he’d use his arm as your necklace, but of course that shouldn’t be a priority at the moment. If anything, it was his fault you had to use a dildo anyway.

“[Y/N], you know damn well this isn’t mine.” He met your gaze and flashed you a soft smile, biting his lower lip. “I like mine bigger.”

You covered your face in shame, wishing the floor could open up and swallow you whole. “Good god, Jeon.”

“You still didn’t answer my question. Why is it in the bathroom?”

You gulped, finding enough strength to not die of embarrassment. “It’s getting colder outside and the heater doesn’t reach my room as well as it reaches yours. So…”

“Yeah…? But I’m not following.”

“The… thing in your hand—”

“Dildo?”

You visibly cringed. “Yes, okay, THAT. It got cold and I don’t like cold objects... Inside me. So I took it to the bathroom to run hot water on it to warm it up.”

“Before you use it?”

“No, to melt it. Yes, to use it!” you snapped, feeling the humiliation burning through your body. “I wasn’t aware you weren’t working today, remember? I clean it after each use so please just give it back!”

You ran over to yank it out of his hands, but he lifted it up high out of your reach. While cackling. That motherfucker. “Hey, maybe I want a turn.”

You had to bite back. “I knew you liked being pegged.”

“I do not!”

“Then give it back!”

“This thing is huge though. It fits?”

“I’m not having this conversation with you right now.” You jumped up but failed to reach it due to his quick reflexes. 

“Doesn’t it hurt? Because if something this big went up my—”

“Jungkook!”

“I’m just saying!” he said with his arms up in the air like you were about to tase him. “I find it hard to believe, that’s all. It’s really big. Like damn.”

Without thinking, you ripped his towel off his waist and he gasped, scrambling to shield his privates while you seized the opportunity to get your toy back.

You stormed out of the bathroom and ran to your room, locking the door afterwards. Falling to your knees, the embarrassment caught up to you, causing you to hang your head low in shame. You could hear the soft shuffling sounds of his footsteps approaching your door, followed by a gentle knock.

“[Y/N]? Are you okay?” He pressed his ear against the door to hear small sniffles. “Shit. I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to make you upset. I was teasing, I thought you wanted to tease me back and—I guess I took it too far.”

“Go away, Jeon,” you said, throwing the dildo at the door. Jungkook nearly had a heart attack at the loud thump and jolted back, clutching his chest. 

“Holy shit, that scared me,” he said, which earned a small chuckle from you despite the tears. “Hey… come on out. Please. I’m not judging you.”

“No. I’m humiliated. You heard me yesterday and now caught me today. I can’t face you ever again. It’s over!”

He placed a hand on your door, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “I didn’t even know we started, so how could we be over? You’re cute.”

That made you snap your head up. You quickly wiped away your tears and rose from the floor. “This isn’t fair… I’ve been embarrassed twice now.”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“You heard me masturbating yesterday!” you exclaimed, frustrated at his obliviousness. “You woke up and told me I had pretty lips or whatever and suggested we do something about it together!”

“I mean, you do have pretty lips. Yup. That sounds like me, yeah,” he said, nodding to himself. “But I really don’t remember. Come on out. I wanna see you.”

“No.”

“Would it help if I shared something embarrassing about me?”

You narrowed your eyes at the door, considering his offer. “... Go on…”

He sighed, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “Well… you know how I’ve been doing your laundry for you?” 

“Yeah…”

It was your most hated chore. Putting the clothes into the washer and dryer wasn’t your issue, but folding them was so tedious. So you and him made a deal. You were in charge of dishes and he would do the laundry. However, the one thing you refused to let Jungkook wash for you were your bras and panties. Those you handled yourself.

“You… left a pair of panties in my basket once by mistake.”

“I did?”

“Yeah. I washed them for you but um… before that, I might’ve… sort’ve… jerked off with them.”

Your doorknob jostled for a second as you unlocked it. Jungkook waited as the door swung open and was greeted by a displeased you, hands on your hips and all.  

“What? They were really pretty…” he added. “They were pink and had lace—”

“You… PERVERT!” you shouted, hitting his chest repeatedly. Of course, you were aware your feeble punches did nothing to his insanely toned pecs. Jungkook stared at you fondly, catching the hint of a smile that threatened to spill from your lips. 

“Oh, I’m a pervert? Says the girl who has an 8-inch dildo,” he countered, snatching both your wrists. 

“At least I’m able to take 8-inches!” you retorted, laughing at the situation. He joined in your laughter and then said,

“Good! That means you’ll be able to handle me!”

Your brain fizzled out at this point as the laughter subsided. “... What?”

Jungkook’s Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he gulped. “... You heard me. Go ahead, take off my towel again. See for yourself.”

He guided your hands downward to the soft fabric, which was already on the verge of unraveling itself with his prior movements. You stared at his pelvic lines, excitement bubbling beneath the surface while you tried your best to maintain a calm expression. 

“... Pervert,” you mumbled. Jungkook chuckled, taking one of your hands and placing it directly on his boner. 

“Maybe. But only you can make me feel this way.”

You bit your lip, feeling the heat radiating from beneath the fabric and your curiosity peaked. Tucking a finger into the towel, you pulled it down and let it fall to the ground. 

A loud squeal came from your lips as you covered your mouth. “Holy shit!”

Jungkook covered himself after seeing your reaction with both hands, embarrassment crawling up his spine. “Sorry, I’ll put it away.”

“No, no, no!” you said, putting your hands out in a stop motion. “Sorry, I just… you… you weren’t kidding.”

“Does it scare you?” His tone was sincere, his eyes genuinely showing concern. “Because… I don’t want to hurt you. And I know it can hurt. That’s why I was so curious about the dildo. Will it fit? Will I fit…?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how he phrased it, but quickly stopped when you noticed the fear in his eyes. Your thoughts wandered to if he had slept with someone prior and if it wasn’t a pleasant experience. Truth be told, you’ve never been with anyone as big as him so it’s all new for you.

“Well… if I’m prepared well enough, I can take it. The dildo fits but sometimes not all of it goes in. Um… man, this is embarrassing to talk about, ahhh. I feel like I keep making a fool of myself in front of you.”

Jungkook’s gaze softened at your vulnerability, taking your hand and placing it on his chest. His heart was beating just as rapidly as yours if not more. Then he put his other hand on the small of your back, pulling you close. 

“That makes two of us. But you make me crazy.”

He was so close that your senses were intoxicated with the fresh scent of eucalyptus and cotton wafting off him. His eyes shifted to your lips for a split second before meeting your gaze once more. 

“I really want to kiss these pretty lips of yours… If you’ll let me,” he said, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb and whispering the last part.

You begged him to kiss you already, so he leaned in and finally pressed his warm lips against yours as you closed your eyes. It started off as a gentle smooch, like a little tease to test the waters. When he pulled back, you leaned forward and chased his lips urgently. You felt him smiling into the kiss as he moved in tandem with you, deepening the kiss while switching positions to press you against a wall. One of his hands pinned your wrists above your head while his free hand slithered down the side of your body until it rested on your hip, giving you a firm squeeze.

“Jung—mmph—Jungkook…” you moaned. He used that chance to ease his tongue into your mouth and the kiss went from passionate to messy. When you moved your wrists in the slightest, he asserted dominance and pinned them back down into place. 

“You think I’m going to let you go so easily now that I have you?” he asked, the hunger in his voice evident. He carefully tugged your bottom lip in between his teeth and pulled it back in a seductive motion, which turned you on even more. 

Once he broke the kiss, the only thing that remained was a string of saliva that broke seconds later.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” he said in between pants.

“Since you’ve jerked off to my panties?” you teased while catching your breath.

He rolled his eyes. “Like you’ve never rubbed one out to me before.”

You scrunched up your nose at his response, unable to counteract his statement right away. “Hey… I wouldn’t have had to rub one out if you warmed me up in this cold weather.”

He smirked. “All you had to do was ask, you know.”

Releasing your hands, Jungkook went into your room and grabbed the dildo off the floor. He left you for a short moment and you waited there, confused, until you heard the sound of running water. He came back a minute later and then grabbed your hand, leading you to his bedroom.

“Had to wash it. Don’t worry, I’ll warm you up properly for the real thing.”

He guided you to his bed and helped you remove your jacket, blouse, and leggings. His grin was extra toothy because the set you were wearing was the exact set he jerked off too before. 

“What?” you asked, amused.

“N-Nothing.”

When your back was turned for a second, he mouthed the words ‘Oh my god’ and pressed his hands together as if thanking the universe for this very moment.

Now left in your bra and panties, you laid on his bed and he climbed on top of you, his lips latching onto the side of your neck. You mewled at the sizzling contact, pulling him close by his soft locks so that his hot skin was pressed against yours. He trailed his searing kisses down to your collarbone and then settled between the valley of your breasts. 

“The bra is pretty… you’re so pretty,” he said, full of admiration. He pulled one of the cups down to gain access to your breasts, capturing your perky nipple between his lips. He sucked tenderly, swirling his tongue around before tugging on it hard enough to elicit a moan. His other hand was greedy, slithering into your already soaked panties. His middle finger dipped in between your folds and he rubbed in circular motions to coax some more slick out of you. 

As you arched your back and moaned his name, he dipped one finger into you and began to pump it slowly. He added another one when you begged for it, sounding so desperate that he had to oblige. 

“Please fuck me already. I can’t take it,” you breathed. Jungkook only curled his fingers deeper inside, grazing your sweet spot while shaking his head. 

“Patience, beautiful. I need to make sure your sweet pussy can take it, remember? Gotta prep you well.”

“But I can take it, I can, oh god please.” 

“If you’re a good girl for me. Can you take another finger?”

You nodded eagerly, so he added a third finger and you squeezed your eyes shut from the delicious burn. 

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asked, observing your expressions carefully. You clutched onto the pillow and panted heavily. 

“Y-Yeah, I—god—your fingers feel good…”

He began to finger you with all three digits, the tightness of your walls bringing some resistance to his actions. But with a few more neck kisses to relax you, it became easier and you became more undone. 

“You’re doing so well,” he whispered into your ear, his heavy breath tickling it. He finally removed his fingers and grabbed the dildo at the end of the bed, bringing up to your lips. 

“Show me what those pretty lips of yours can do.”

You stuck out your tongue and licked a long stripe on the toy in a tantalizing slow motion, causing Jungkook to grunt. That damn smile of yours was going to kill him. You were the perfect minx—sweet and naughty. He didn’t have to tell you to suck it because you already were. 

“Such a good girl. You’re going to handle my cock so well.”

He removed the dildo out of your mouth and reached into his nightstand to pull out a bottle of lube. You stared at it like it was foreign to you and Jungkook was quick to notice.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I can take it. I know it.”

He chuckled, admiring your determination. “Still, I want to take my time.  Besides… it’s not every day I get to fuck someone so beautiful.”

He popped open the cap and squeezed a decent amount of lube onto the toy. Then he got back in between your legs and slowly began to insert it into you. You squirmed from the slippery, cold contact but Jungkook captured your lips into a deep kiss, igniting your body with fervor. 

He thrusted the dildo as deep as he could, stopping when there was resistance from your panties. Which you were more than thankful for because you already felt full. But then he began to pump it in and out of you at a steady pace, only accelerating when your moans became more constant. 

“Shit, shit,that feels so—“ Your words were swallowed by his lips and that stirred something within you, allowing Jungkook to easily glide the toy back and forth. He soon increased his speed, the obscene sounds your pussy was making the only thing that could be heard in the room. 

You broke away from the kiss and began tearing up from the intensity. 

“J-Jungkook, I think—“

You couldn’t, actually. Your orgasm crept up on you and made your entire body convulse. You shut your eyes to only see white, your ears were ringing, and your pussy surrendered to the pleasure. 

Jungkook removed the toy out of you gently and then kissed your sweaty forehead, giving you a bunny-tooth smile as you calmed down from your high. 

“Did you cum?”

You smacked his arm playfully. “Did I cum… pfft. No, actually. I’m waiting for a real man to make me cum. With a fat cock.”

“Well not to toot my own horn but…” He grinded his swollen cock against your thigh. “I think I meet the requirements.”

Now that things slowed down, this was the first time you really got to look at his cock properly. He wasn’t kidding about needing to prep you. It was as big as your dildo but much more girthier. It was a mouth-watering sight. 

Flipping the switch, you got on top of Jungkook this time. His eyes widened in surprise but then eased into a smile. You leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. 

“Let me take care of you now.”

“But I want to fuck you so bad.”

“You can wait, darling. My pussy is yours.”

His dick twitched at that. You giggled as you got in between his thighs, stroking his member a few times to hear those cute, breathy moans of his. 

Will it fit…? God, I hope so.

“Are you afraid you can’t take it?” Jungkook asked with concern. Shit. Did you say that out loud???

“I can. I will.”

“We don’t have to if you don’t—“

“Jungkook,” you said, squeezing his dick tightly, almost like a warning. “I can take it like a good girl. And if not, I’ll tell you. Okay?”

He closed his eyes and nodded as you began to suck him off. There was no way you could take all of him in your mouth but you’d be damned if you didn’t at least try. You went as far as you could and stopped when your gag reflex kicked in. Using your hand to stroke the area you couldn’t reach, you swirled your tongue and bobbed your head up and down. 

Jungkook’s abs clenched and unclenched at the action and he rested on his elbows to watch you. The way your bra cupped your breasts at this angle was enticing, your pretty lips working so hard to please him, and the view of your ass in those panties could make him cum right then and there. 

“Fuck, you’re so good at this—don’t stop.”

You smiled at the praise and continued, loving how he took a sharp inhale of breath when you cupped his balls. He put his hand on your head and pushed you down gently, not wanting to overdo it with his size. You controlled the pace, but he just wanted to touch you and admire you. 

“You’re too good to me…” 

You released his dick with a satisfying pop sound, kissing the tip and smiling. “Teach me what you like.”

“I love everything you do,” he said, grunting when you began stroking him again from the base to the tip. “Your hands are so much softer than mine.”

You stopped momentarily to spit on your hand before resuming your lewd actions and he threw his head back. 

“Fuck [Y/N]. That’s so hot.”

“Yeah? Have I been a good girl? Are you going to reward me?” He snatched your wrist, his eyes darkened and full of lust. 

“Can you handle it?”

You turned around on all fours, shaking your ass side to side to tempt him. “Take me, baby. Raw.”

His OJO face returned from your bold suggestion and you flashed him a wink. 

“I’m on the pill. Promise,” you informed. 

A burst of energy surged within him as he grabbed the bottle of lube and hurriedly squeezed some onto his cock. You giggled when he squirted a bit too much, haphazardly trying to divide it between two hands and spreading it evenly. But things turned serious when he grabbed your hips, yanking you closer to him.

He pulled your panties to the side and ate you out from behind first, loving how delicious your backside looked with them on. You moaned in delight and he placed a hand on your upper back, forcing your face down into the mattress. His tongue dipped into your folds and he flicked it on your clit a few times, loving the whiny sounds you were making. Then he pressed his entire mouth onto your pussy and sucked hard. 

You were overwhelmed with pleasure and were on the verge of cumming when he removed his mouth and replaced it with something else.

“Are you ready?” He teased his tip at your leaking entrance and you shuddered. 

“Yes, please fuck me.”

“Breathe baby. Relax as much as you can.”

You obeyed, feeling him push himself into you smoothly, knowing he prepped you more than enough. At least, that’s what you thought until he got in halfway. From there on, it felt like he was invading your walls and stretching you to new limits. 

There was a mild discomfort and Jungkook kissed your back lovingly to relax your tense muscles. You sighed and allowed him to bottom out, feeling the wind knock out of you when he did. 

“God!” you shouted, fisting his bedsheets. 

“F-Fuck… you feel amazing I—can I move? Does it hurt?”

“It doesn’t hurt… I just feel really full.”

“Okay,” he said in a restrained voice. “I’ll go slow.”

He gripped your hips tightly, like he needed something else to focus on or else he’d lose control and fuck the living daylights out of you. He eased himself out of you but only half way, wanting to savor your warmth a bit longer. Then he pushed himself back into you, making sure to go as slow as possible.

“Your ass looks amazing in these. You should wear them again.”

Your heart fluttered at the thought of doing this with him again. “Maybe if you spank me.”

He stilled his hips. “You really want me to?”

You began rocking your ass back and forth on his cock. “Yeah. I’m not that fragile… I can take it rough when I want to.” You swore you felt his cock twitch at this. “Hmm, looks like that excited you. You wanna fuck me rough, Jeon?”

He delivered a spank on your cheek, the sensation sending waves of pain and pleasure through your body. Your pussy tightened from this and it made Jungkook hiss. He spanked the other cheek and then both cheeks and you moaned, the slight pain distracting you from the girth of his big cock. 

“You think you’re in a position to be a brat?” He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you up so you were on all fours again. Laying on top of your back, he whispered in your ear, “Do you know how badly I want to fucking ruin you?”

He bit the shell of your ear and you let out a content sigh as he slowly thrusted in and out of you. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he reminded you. “But god, you feel so good. So tight. So slippery and wet. I just wanna have my way with you.”

You couldn’t wait anymore. “Please do. Make my pussy remember the shape of your cock. It’s yours to wreck.”

Jungkook got off your back and grabbed a nice fistful of your hair into a makeshift ponytail, forcing your head up as he thrusted into you to the hilt. That feeling of being full hit you full force and you submitted, letting him rock his hips back and forth to the pace he deemed fit. He undid your bra with his free hand, letting the undergarment fall onto the bed as he cupped one breast.

Your moans came out unashamed and full of whiny desperation. The intensity was becoming too much, but it felt too good to stop. There was no more discomfort, only lust and the desire to be fucked so hard that it had your eyes rolling. And Jungkook was more than willing to deliver.

He then grabbed a nearby pillow and placed it under your stomach, pushing your back down until you laid flat. 

“I’m not sure, but I read this makes things feel better on Reddit,” he explained quickly as he helped remove your panties. “But let me know if you want me to stop.”

You’re smitten by the fact he cared this much about you but also trying hard not to laugh at how he admitted to going to Reddit for sex advice. He was too precious.

“I will.”

With your ass propped up higher thanks to the elevation of the pillow, Jungkook eased into you once more and you bit into your pillow. He started to slam his hips into you, gripping onto the headboard to steady himself. 

“Fuck!” you said through gritted teeth. 

“Am I going too fast?” he breathed, slowing down his thrusts.

“No, it’s okay. I want it. I want you.”

Your words unleashed his primal urges to finally give it to you. He shoved his cock deep inside you, each thrust making your ass jiggle, the sight so unbelievably sexy that he had to spank you again.

“Yes, yes, yes! Fuck me harder!” you shouted. Jungkook laid on top of you, wrapping his bicep around your neck and planted a kiss on your cheek as he fucked you harder. You begged him to choke you and he obliged, squeezing your neck just enough to make you slightly dizzy. 

It was euphoric having that slight danger while being used for his pleasure. Your pussy tightened so much that Jungkook felt he was going to cum. 

He slowed the roll of his hips and then pulled out, quickly flipping you onto your back. Thanks to the pillow from earlier, your hips were propped up at the perfect height. 

“Spread your legs for me. Wider. Hold them open.”

You were so drunk on lust that you did everything he asked. He held onto your thighs and inserted his cock into you again, the new angle making your moans come out strangulated. He was so huge, you swore his tip was brushing against your cervix. Picking up the pace gradually, you took the abuse of his fat cock and screamed at how good it felt. 

“I can’t get enough of you,” Jungkook said through pants, wrapping a hand around the column of your neck. “I’m gonna cum.”

His hips began to stutter and you felt your pussy growing sore from the stretch. Anymore and you’d be in tears. You wanted to cum too, so you snuck your hand down to your clit and rubbed in circular motions. Jungkook used the last remaining bits of strength to fuck you for a few more minutes, which was more than enough for you to reach your climax. 

Cumming a second time was more painful than the first time due to the over sensitivity. But somehow it was more enjoyable because you had never felt something so intense. Jungkook kept coaxing you with sweet words, promising he was almost finished. 

He rutted into you for the last few seconds, counting 3, 2, 1 before spilling his seed inside you. His body laid on top of yours, the two of you sticky and sweaty but it was comforting just being in his embrace. 

“Jungkook?” 

“Yeah?”

“Get off. We gotta pee.”

He laughed at your serious tone. “I think I need another shower. Care to join me?”

Your roommate literally just fucked your brains out 5 minutes ago. Why were you feeling self-conscious in the shower with him? It didn’t make sense!

With the hot water on, you took a deep breath before feeling a pair of arms wrap around you from behind. 

“Questions, comments, concerns?”

Oh my god, you had to marry this man. “Um… I think I’ll be sore for the next few days.”

“I’m sorry.

“Don’t be. I enjoyed it a lot.”

He turned you around, so that you were facing him. “Enough to do it again?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Tonight?”

“W-Well… I mean—“

Look at him fumbling over his words. Adorable. “You’re such a pervert.”

“I can’t help it. You turn me on.”

You covered your chest, feeling shy. “Is that all I’m good for…?”

He immediately understood what you meant. “Of course not. Look at me,” he said while tilting your chin up. “Don’t you know how I feel about you?”

Your lips curled into a smile. “Well I learned today that you jerked off to my panties and you count down before you cum.”

You couldn’t help but explode into laughter at his OJO face when he heard you say that. 

“Hey! I do it to let you know when it’s coming!”

“Yes sir,” you teased with a salute. “I appreciate your punctuality, sir!”

“Oh my god, you’re so cheeky.” He hugged you again and booped his nose into yours. “I like you. You know, when a boy likes a girl and they go out on a date and then—oh shit, I did things backwards.”

You giggled. “I think I prefer it this way. I like you too. I’ve… liked you for a long time.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because! I didn’t want to make things awkward. But I guess things ended up being awkward anyway…”

“Because you were masturbating to me?” 

He had such a proud smile on his face. 

“Whatever! Panty thief!”

“You left them there.”

“You should’ve told me!”

“I did!”

“After you had your fun! You are so—”

He gave you a surprise peck on the cheek to distract you. 

“Awesome?” He smooched you again. And again. You couldn’t help but giggle. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Mmhmm. So… do you want to stay in my room tonight?”

“As long as you warm me up.”

“Oh, for sure. I’m great at that.”

“Because of experience or Reddit?”

There was his OJO face again. “Hey~!”

I truly hope you enjoyed the fic! Thank you for giving my writing a chance. :) Also I have an AO3 if you're more comfortable commenting there. Thanks!

[yeonzzzn]

🧊just come over, would ya?: sim jaeyun

pairing: jake x afab!reader word count: 2.2k

synopsis: snow storm causes the whole apartment complex power to go out, in which your hot neighbor offers to help keep you warm…

genre: neighbors au!, neighbors to lovers, smut

warnings: swearing, jerking off, fingering, finger riding, unprotective sex, cuddly + funny jake ♡

Your whole body shook, pulling yet another blanket over your body. 

Your sweatpants, sweatshirt, fuzzy socks, and beanie were not enough to keep you warm through this power outage. 

This was one of the moments you wished you had a fireplace in your small apartment, yet here you are. 

What was supposed to be a small snowfall turned into a snowstorm and the whole apartment complex’s power went out with no word on how long it would take for the power to come back on. 

Your teeth grinded together as you pulled the blankets over your head, pulling your legs to your chest in hopes of getting warmer. 

You tried to sleep, hoping it would pass the time, but due to your freezing, sleep was not going to come. 

You decided to check your phone in hopes of seeing a message from the apartment complex's owner about when the power would be back but instead saw a text from your neighbor. 

Jake: How are you holding up? Heard you sneezed earlier. The building is way too quiet.  You: Obviously I’m freezing.  Jake: Oh, you don’t have a fireplace, right?

You rolled your eyes at your text from him. He was clearly teasing you for not having one. 

Jake was always teasing you any moment he could get. You both attend the same college and have many classes together, so once he moved next door the amount of “good neighbor” jokes he would say was more annoying than his shit-eating grin when he’d say them. 

You: Jake, you obviously know I don’t have a fireplace, don’t be a dick :) Jake: Want to come over and use mine? The fireplace obviously, not my dick. 

You bit your bottom lip in debate. It would be nice to finally be warm, but the thought of being stuck with Jake for god knows how long made you irritated. Mostly after his joke just now.

You: No thanks. I’m good.  Jake: Y/N, I can clearly hear your teeth chattering through these walls.  Jake: I am trying to be nice here.  Jake: Just come over, would ya? Jake: The door is unlocked. 

You knew the best option would be to rush next door and sit in front of the fireplace with him.

Fuck it. 

You jumped from your bed, slipped your feet into your slippers, and rushed out of your room. 

The hallway was way colder than inside your apartment. The darkness of the hall reminds you of something from a horror film, the moonlight outside being the only source of light. 

You quickly jumped in front of Jake’s door, knocking frantically. 

After a soft “come in” was heard from the other side, you opened the door and quickly stepped in shutting the door behind you. 

You quickly took in Jake’s living room, his couch being pushed up closer to the fireplace. 

Jake raised a hand from his couch, “Over here.”

You kicked your slippers off, ready to sit close to the fire, only for your smile to turn upside down seeing Jake sprawled out, lying down. 

The only thing you could see was his eyes, the rest of him being completely covered by his blanket. 

You stared back at him? raising a brow, “Move over?” 

Jake furrows his brows, “No, Hi? Hello? How are you? Nice weather we are having?” 

You rolled your eyes, “Hi Jake, the weather sucks, move over, ya?” 

Jake lifted the blanket off his body, patting his hand to his stomach. 

You blankly stared at him, confused. Until it clicked in your head. 

Jake could read you like a book, your facial expression telling exactly how you were feeling, “Y/N, just come lay down.”

You shook your head, “No, I will sit on the floor.” 

Jake rolled his eyes this time. This was further than ideal for him too. All he was trying to do was be nice. Even with the fireplace he was still freezing and can only imagine how cold you were. 

“Y/N, we would warm up faster, it’s basic science and survival tactics.” 

You tucked your lip between your teeth. You knew he was right, plus he has his couch so close to the fireplace that you wouldn’t be able to fully sit in front of it anyway. 

You rolled your eyes and dropped your arms at your side, “Fine!” 

Jake smiled at you as you laid down on top of him, your head nuzzling in his neck. He threw the blanket back over your body, his arms wrapping around you. 

You hated to admit it, but this was nice. Your body slowly warms up, but obviously not fast enough. 

“If we strip down, we'll warm up faster.” Jake teased. 

You weren’t looking at him but you could feel his smirk that was slapped across his face. 

“Shut up, Sim.” you scoffed at him and a little chuckle left his lips. 

“Hey, I am just saying.” he shrugged his shoulders and you barely looked up at him, glaring at him. 

Jake absolutely loved teasing you. He loved how easy it was. You looked way too cute to him when he got you all mad. 

The way you’d look at him and the smiles you would try to hide when you thought he was being funny. It pulled at his heart more than he’d like to admit. 

Jake closed his eyes and wrapped his arms a bit tighter around you, his main focus to help keep you warm. 

Unfortunately laying in the same position was making you uncomfortable. You slowly started to wiggle around, trying to lay more comfortably. 

The friction of you moving against him was sending Jake’s thoughts into other places, biting down on his lip and steadying his breathing to keep calm. 

But you noticed all the well the bulge growing in his sweatpants against your stomach. 

“Sim Jaeyun,” you warned, shifting your leg up a bit, accidentally rubbing your knee against his hard length. 

“Stop moving then, jeez.” Jake spat out, his heart racing against his chest. 

You could hear how fast his heart was going, how it threatened to beat out of his chest. 

You just wanted to be comfortable, “Let me get comfortable and I’ll stop moving, I promise.” 

You slowly lifted your leg a bit more, Jake’s hand flying to your thigh, giving it a soft squeeze.

“Y/N,” he softly breathed out. You looked up at him, seeing the lust that filled his eyes, “If you keep moving on top of me, I can’t promise I’ll stay on my best behavior.” 

The way his voice spoke those words sent chills down your spine. You’ve never seen Jake look so serious and so…hot. 

You’ve always been attracted to Jake, he was such a good-looking man. But the Jake in front of you with lust and want written all over his face was enough to dampen your panties. With the way your name rolled off his tongue in warning made something in you click. 

Jake slowly laid his head back down on the armrest, his grip on your thigh not leaving. 

With the way Jake looked at this moment, made you want to test his limits. The way his eyes searched for something on the ceiling to focus on while his heart pounded and his dick twitched against your tummy. 

The hand that rested on his chest, you slowly slid down, your fingers brushing his soft skin where his shirt slid up from your leg. 

Jake hissed at your touch, his eyes closing, “Y/N, this is your last warning.” 

But you kept going, reaching your thumb to slide against his tip over his sweatpants, a soft “fuck” leaving his lips. 

You moved your hand down more, all your fingers grazing his clothed hard-on. His hand leaves your thigh to grip your hand. 

“If you keep up-“

“Kiss me.” you interrupted him. And that’s all it took. 

Jake’s lips found yours, one hand was placed at the side of your neck and jaw, and the other went back to your thigh. 

Jake kissed you with such hunger, his hand squeezing your thigh tightly. 

His tongue found its way into your mouth and rubbed against your own as he moaned on your lips. 

You snaked your hand down his sweatpants and underwear, wrapping your hand around his length, your thumb rubbing the precum around his tip. 

Jake released his lips from yours, resting his forehead on yours panting with each stroke your hand made. 

Strings of “Fuck fuck fuck fuck”, rolled off his tongue as you pumped him. 

You released him, sliding both hands up his torso and pulling his shirt along with them. 

Jake helped you remove his shirt and right after removing your own. Your shirts and beanie being thrown off somewhere else in the room. 

Jake kissed you again, his hands sliding from the sides of your face down to your shoulders, his fingers looping at your bra straps pulling them down. 

With just two fingers, Jake unclasped your bra and removed it from your body. 

The skin-to-skin contact drove you insane with how warm his body felt against your own. 

Jake squeezed your ass, a soft moan leaving your mouth and oh god it was music to his ears. 

Jake wanted to feel every inch of you. To worship your body the way it deserves to be. 

“Take your pants off,” he whispered, his thumbs looping into your sweatpants. 

You sat up getting rid of your pants and panties, your hands reaching for Jake helping him slide his off. 

His cock slapped against his abdomen, the precum glistening from the light of the fireplace. 

Jake’s hand snaked between your folds, groaning, “You’re so wet for me baby.” 

His long fingers pumped in and out of you. You flip your head back and dig your fingers into his chest. 

You rolled your hips against his fingers. Jake bit his lip at the site of you riding his fingers, your juices coating them.

God you were a sight to see, your facial expressions sending Jake over the deep in. 

He loved the way your hips rolled against his fingers, he needed to see how they’d work with his dick deep inside you. 

“Baby,” the Aussie man pled, “I need you on my cock, please.” 

You nodded, lifting yourself and lining the tip with your entrance. 

Jake threw his head back onto the couch’s arm as you slid down into him, “Oh fuck baby.” 

You started rolling your hips, placing your hands on his chest for support.

His hands went to your breasts, cupping both of them. Squeezing them with every roll of your hips against his. 

“Fuck baby, you look so beautiful riding my cock. Such a good girl for me.” 

“Hmmm, Jake, you f-feel so good.” you moaned out, sitting yourself up even more to bounce on his dick. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, Y/N. Oh, fuck me.” Jake groaned, his hands flying to your hips, slamming you down onto him. 

He helped you pick up speed, the knot in your stomach ready to burst. 

Jake knew you were getting close with the way your breath became unsteady and how you clenched around him. 

He felt like he was in heaven being fucked by an angel. 

Jake has dreamed of this moment since the day he met you in class and knew it was fate when he moved in next door. 

The moment he heard your soft moans coming from the other side of his bedroom wall he dreamt of being the one making you moan. 

He tried so hard to cover his ears, knowing it wasn’t something he needed to be listening to, but found his hand wrapped around his cock as he pumped himself to your moans. 

Now that he could hear your moans clear as day in his ears drove him wild. 

“Jake, I-I’m cumming.” you pant, your movements becoming sloppy. 

Jake pulled your body back down onto his, lifting his legs and wrapping his arms around your waist holding you down into place fucking into you. 

Your hands went into Jake’s hair as you chanted his name. 

“Cum for me baby girl,” he said between breaths, “Make a mess on my cock for me, ya?” 

You let go, the ecstasy washing over you. 

“That’s my good girl, so fucking good for me.” 

Jake fucked you into overstimulation, his cock twitching inside you, ready for release. 

“Jake,” you whispered into his cheek, placing small kisses. 

“I’m cumming baby, fuck, I’m cumming.” 

Jake connected his lips back to yours as he pumped his load into you, moaning against your lips. 

Jake loosened his grip on your body, slowly moving his hands up and down your bare back as the kisses went from lustful to soft and sweet, filled with passion. 

The only sound heard was your lips moving against each other and the crackling of the fireplace. 

As if on cue, all the lights in his apartment came on. The sound of the heating system starting up. 

“Guess the power is back.” You whispered against his mouth, slowly laying your head down on his chest. 

“I don’t know about you, but I was plenty warm.” Jake teased, earning him yet another glare from you. 

“And we are back to teasing, I’m going home.” 

“No no, Y/N, I’m sorry,” Jake said, wrapping his arms tightly around you, “I am not ready for you to go yet.” 

You giggled, “You know we are neighbors, right?” 

“Mmhm,” Jake hummed, “Make sure you always treat your neighbor well, never know when another snowstorm will hit.” 

You couldn’t be mad at him for that joke. He did keep you warm and won your heart over. 

“Y/N?” 

“Yes, Jake?” 

“Let’s do this more often.

a/n: this was a bit rushed and I apologize, but I still hope you all enjoyed it!

[nomazee]

Um hello! Is the 1k event thingy still up?? If so I would like to request a classmate! Dr ratio x reader at 2:47 am?

it's actually sickening how much fun i had with this i was giggling at my own jokes while typing this out... this was so fun to write THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING!!!

my 1k event!

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A blaring, aggravating, shrill sound wakes you up. Your hands go to cover your ears, protecting your sanity from the noise ringing somewhere from the tangle of sheets on your bed. Hands flailing around desperately to find the source of the piercing chimes, you writhe around in agony until you finally latch onto your phone. 

The brightness of the screen digs into your corneas as you lift up the device to see the caller ID of whoever had the guts to bother you on a school night. 

It comes to no surprise that the caller name reads “VERITAS FUCKING RATIO” in all caps with no contact photo. Your eye twitches and the grip on your phone tightens, just a hair away from leaving finger-shaped dents in the metal. 

Begrudgingly, you answer the call, tucking the phone next to your ear with nothing less than displeasure. “Veritas. Why are you calling me at—” you pull your phone back to check, “—almost three in the morning?” 

“The works cited page,” Veritas Fucking Ratio informs you matter-of-factly. There’s no hint of sleepiness in his voice, nothing that could possibly chip away at his good image, of course. “You did it in the wrong format. It’s supposed to be APA. This is a science project, not a literature project.” 

You might kill him. The project in question is to be presented tomorrow— today at ten in the morning. Ratio and you had been working on it for an entire two weeks, broken up into intermittent hour-long sessions because he was adamant that you split up the work instead of rushing to do it all the night before. Stupid self-righteous gorgeous beautiful academic genius-freak. Yeah, it definitely helped you in the long run, but he acted so sanctimonious about it that you refused to admit the benefits. 

“Veritas,” you imbue the syllables of his name with poison, as much as you can when you’re swaying as you sit up on your bed and fighting demons to not fall back asleep. “This is such an easily-fixed thing. Do you know what time it is right now? Why are you even awake? You know, I am supposed to get a full seven hours of sleep every night, and I was already cutting it short today, and you woke me up before I could even hit REM sleep. Do you know how upsetting this is? Fix the goddamn works cited yourself!” 

For once, Veritas is at a loss for words. The other end of the line is so quiet that you have to double check and make sure he hasn’t just hung up on you. Perspiration builds on your palms, thinking that this is it—this is the exact moment that you make Veritas-Fucking-Ratio snap and delete your name off the project credit slide, and you’re going to get a 0 because he will wipe off any evidence of your work from this plane of existence, and you will spend the rest of your measly life chasing after your MLA-turned-APA works cited page, too-little-too-late. 

“I’m awake because the— well.” He pauses, and his voice sounds so far away and unobtrusive that you’re almost worried. Your breath stills in the middle of your diaphragm. Waiting. “The works cited is one thing. But I wanted you to look at the slides, if you can.” 

If you can, he says, as if he’s giving you a choice, which he literally never has during this entire process. You had no role in choosing the topic, or the slide theme, or what days you worked on the project, or how often you worked on the project (because god forbid you procrastinate a little bit, right?!), but now, at almost three in the morning, Veritas is saying something along the lines of oh please my dearest project partner, I request that you open the Google Slides at once, but only if you would like to! I would never infringe on your free will at three in the morning, because I respect you as a partner. Or something like that. That was pretty much the gist of it. 

A raspy sigh escapes you, and you claw your busted laptop off the nightstand next to you, opening it up and squinting at the LED screen as you punch in your passcode. “You know, I have done a good job at going along with all of your whims, Veritas, the least you could do is fix the works cited for me. Seriously, how did you even miss that? You’re so detail-oriented, but you didn't even realize the format was wrong until tonight? Who even cares, seriously… it’s just a slideshow…” 

Your voice trails off as the slideshow presentation finally loads in. You see Veritas’ default profile picture blink in the upper right-hand corner, signaling that he’s viewing the slideshow with you. The slideshow which has apparently undergone a huge makeover. 

It’s—pleasant to look at. This entire time, you and Veritas had been editing a default, white-background black-serif-font-text slideshow. He refused to change it, telling you that it’s unprofessional to do anything too embellished, to which you fruitlessly said, Veritas, we will die early deaths because of the hole in the ozone layer, would you at least make it easier on my poor soul by letting me choose a pokemon-theme slide? Veritas had pretended like he couldn't hear you (in a very quiet library room, mind you), but the twitch in his brow gave him away. 

Now, though, the slides are decorated. It’s a really nice theme, complete with custom icons and graphic blobs of color—your favorite color, might you add. It’s—pretty. Dare you say, cute, but you think Veritas would vaporize your entire presentation if you called it cute. 

“Did you— this— did you pay for this slide theme?” 

“You— n— mn,” he trails off into an unintelligible mash of mumbling, and you hear a loud THUD that sounds awfully like the phone being thrown onto a mattress. Fabric shuffles around, before you hear Veritas’ voice again, clear and composed. “Sorry. I dropped my phone.” What a loser, and a liar, and an endearing freak. You really wish he video called you because you need to see his totally-very-ugly face. 

“I thought this was unprofessional, Veritas,” you say teasingly, a smile lining your words as you try not to giggle right into the phone. “What made you have a change of heart?” 

“Nothing,” the typical firmness of his voice has returned, much to your dismay. “The works cited is still wrong. You have to fix it.” 

“Oh, whatever you say, honored Ratio,” you open up your trusty citation-generator, ready for a long fifteen minutes of copying and pasting information. “Hey, you must be free after class tomorrow, right? Since the project is pretty much over, right?” 

“Yes,” Veritas answers after a moment of hesitation, only a hint of doubt in his voice. 

“That’s great. Keep your schedule clear, then.” 

(You fix the works cited slide, wish Veritas sweet dreams, and then wake up in the morning to completely ace your presentation. The minute the period ends, you drag him out of the classroom and into a coffee shop, paying for some five dollar pastry and joking that it’s payback for the cute slideshow theme that he definitely paid five dollars for. Veritas is an awful liar, and you tell him that, and he can’t even find the strength to deny it.)

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gen taglist: @tragedy-of-commons @lasiancunin

fill out my event taglist (pinned) or general taglist (navi) to be tagged in upcoming works!

[dalamjisung]

A muted shade of green ✧ Chapter 2: He's not yours to keep

genre: more angst than fluff, but I swear fluff is coming up next!

word count: 5562

pairing: reader x spencer reid

description: you are trying to make sense of all this mess, but it's time to learn that, sometimes, things are just messy and chaotic and you have to learn to look for the silver linings.

a muted shade of green masterlist

previous chapter // next chapter

author's note: I am absolutely over the moon with the response I've gotten on this series and I'm really thankful for all the love and support <3 if you want to join the taglist for this series, please let me know in the comments!

You don’t usually dream. 

Well, actually, if you tell Spencer that, he will say that you’re wrong– you do dream, you just don’t remember it. It’s common, not really recalling the scenes your brain conjure, Spencer would say; it can be due to a series of factors including high levels of stress and poor sleep. He would then tell you to stay home for a day, read a good book, and drink one of his fancy teas Penelope got for him a long time ago. 

But the thing is, Spencer can’t really tell you any of it. 

Not when you seem to be avoiding him even inside his own home. 

It starts after you wake up still in his armchair, feeling exhausted and disgustingly sticky, you finally have a couple of moments to yourself. Spencer is still sleeping, and you’re actually surprised to see him stretched out on the couch– his tie is throw on his coffee table, the purple colour suddenly too bright in the dim apartment, but otherwise, still wearing the same clothes he had on yesterday. You don’t understand why he didn’t change into pyjamas, but then again, you don’t understand much of anything right now. 

So you go through the facts. 

One by one, you list them in your mind– and little by little it dawns on you just how bad this really is. It’s hard, conceptualising that this is reality; that you really do have a psychopath targeting you. It’s the kind of thing that you only saw in those TV shows you loved to binge on late night, the kind of thing you read on the newspaper, happening to other people, but never really you. Except, it is happening to you, and you are not sure what to do next. Do you just sit and wait for her to make a move? Do you continue to live your life normally? How? How are you supposed to ignore the fact that a, as Agent Hotchner had described her, ‘prolific serial killer’ might know who are?

“Oh my god,” You whisper to yourself, head falling in your hands. The watch on your wrist, an old, analogue thing your mom had given you before you left New York, is pointing to a time you would never have been awake before. 5:23 in the morning. The sun is not even up yet and you have hours before you have to open the store, but then again, you have to clean the mess that was left behind due to your rushed departure from it. You wince, disgusted at the thought of having to clean old vomit from the floor, and disgusted with the bitter taste it left behind. Right now, you are a shell of a human being and you need to get yourself back together. 

You follow a familiar routine of recovery. It’s something you’ve done before and something you will surely have to do again, and it all starts with a simple list. 

Firstly, you need to get up. You need to stretch your legs, throw them to the side, and stand. You need to walk, remind your self that you can still make your own path even if it’s only to the bathroom down the hall. 

Then, you need to brush your teeth. The bitter taste stuck to your mouth makes you wince with memories that you want to bury. 

Showering would be your third step, but this is not your home. This is not your space, and these are not your things. 

A pettier side of you, one that is bothered and angry and irritated in a superficial level, wants to march back out to the living room, as loudly as you can, and shake Spencer away. You want to wake him up at the crack of dawn and make him share your torment, because in some level, even if you try to push against it, you blame him. Deep inside, you know that there is a big difference between the two– between blaming him and it being his fault. One is purposeful, conscious; it’s a decision you take and lay on his head. If you blame him, you commit yourself to hate him. The latter, however, is a fact. It’s irrefutable and immutable as the fact that you need air to live. It is his fault, but it was not his goal. 

“He didn’t mean it, but it’s still his fault,” You whisper to yourself, pushing yourself off the sink to try and figure out his shower. It is his house, that’s a fact. But you also deserve a nice, warm shower, and that is another fact. He pushed you to come stay with him, so you need to also push yourself to feel comfortable in this space that feels so foreign to your senses. “He didn’t mean it, but it’s still his fault.”

The words become your mantra. He didn’t mean it, but it’s still his fault. Somewhere in you, you know you have what it takes to forgive, but you just don’t have what it’s needed to forget. By repeating those words, you allow your brain to slowly process this situation as what it is– something that happened because of him, but not by him. As much as you want someone to blame, someone to scream at, Spencer Reid just isn’t that person. 

It takes you a moment to realise you don’t really have a towel or any of your products here, and using Spencer’s shampoo just feels… odd. Like an invasion of his space almost. “Oh thank god for you, Spencer,” You sighed, happy to see the pairing of shampoo and conditioner sitting perfectly on the corner. His hair had been one of the first things you noticed about him, all chestnut and shaggy and longish, but you are aware that not every man knows the basic of self-care. There is something about the way his smell takes over the bathroom, floating with the evaporation of the warm water hitting your skin, makes you smile. You feel closer to Spencer than you’ve ever been, and that is when your sense of danger hits. Your heart starts speeding, and your breathing is suddenly really shallow, and you’re trying to come out of the shower, to breathe in cold air, but all you get is humid mist and you can’t breathe, you can’t breathe at all, you can’t–

“Spencer!” You gasp, eyes wide in desperation once your legs feel like they might just give out. Scrambling to hold yourself up, your hands knock over some things in the counter, making more noise on top of the running shower. “SPENCER!” 

“What? What? What– oh my god,” The door slams against the wall and back, almost hitting him on the side when he crouched down next to your naked, curled up body. It’s quite unnatural for you to witness, him jumping into action so fast, like he is trained to make these decisions in a split second. But then you remember that he actually is trained to make these quick choices– like grabbing the towel before anything else, covering you without a single quip about your nakedness; like sitting you up and putting your back against the wall; like turning off the shower and sitting back down right next to you, breathing deeply and loudly. It’s unconscious, how you let your breathing fall in line with his, and it takes a moment to realise he’s doing this on purpose. “Y/N, are you okay?” 

“No,” You whisper, shaking from either the cold or the nerves or both. There are goosebumps all over your legs, the towel not covering you much from the top of your thighs down. “Spencer, I’m not okay. I’m… Until yesterday, you were just the adorable guy who shared my love for books. Y-You’d come into the store smiling and we’d talk and talk and– and now I have a serial killer possibly tracking me. How am I supposed to be okay? I’m so scared… oh god, I’m so scared, Spencer…” The one thing you are proud, amidst your utter embarrassment, is that you are not crying anymore. You still sound a bit rough, throat tired and hurting, and there is no energy left in you and he can hear that, you know he can, because when your voice echoes in the silent bathroom, kicking from wall to wall, you hear it too– the exhaustion and the numbness and the emptiness left behind. 

“I-I’m still that guy,” He stutters, head falling down in shame but voice still twinged with something resembling hope. “I love books. I love talking to you about books, I love going to your store first thing in the morning. I’m still this guy, I just… I just happen to work for the FBI.”

“Yeah, but I… I think that after having my life turned upside down because of a serial killer who has a crush on you, I’m just not that same girl.”

That is the last time you talk to him that day.

—————————————

Actually, that was the last time you talked to him that entire week. 

After he dropped you at the store that day and you were forced to face the embarrassing remnants of your lowest moment in life, moping old vomit from the floor, that feeling of turmoil in your chest died down. It settled. And it hardened. 

He tried making conversation on the walk back to his, but you’re clearly not up for it, so his voice slowed down, getting lower and lower, until it stopped altogether. This time, you shower before bed and make a beeline to the armchair again, letting Spencer’s begs and pleas for you to sleep on the bed fall in deft ears.

For five days, you two don’t talk. 

It’s a dance of chaos, how you step around each other at the apartment, and seeing him biting his words back or catching a glimpse of the bags under his eyes makes you feel guilty; of course it does. But you know that you can’t help him right now. Even if you were to forgive him, to force your mercy onto the situation, it wouldn’t be genuine. It would give him a false sense of relief while you’d forever be uncomfortable next to him, and you don’t want that. You don’t want to feel on edge next to Spencer, you don’t want to feel nauseous and scared when you’re with him. You want to talk about books and coffee and favourite places to order take out from. Instead, all you get to do is talk about her.

It would be a lie to say you don’t feel slightly jealous with the way that his mind seems to be so wrapped around Cat Adams. The imposed talking ban is hard on you both, that much you know, but the more Spencer let it happen, the more he let it stretch out and continue, the more you feel like maybe he doesn’t care that much. Maybe what is hard for him is the awkward tension trapped in his own apartment, rather than the pain of seeing each other so close yet not being able to laugh like you used to. And you know– you know how ridiculous your thought are, how childish you’re acting, but you can’t really blame yourself for being so on edge lately, not when your emotions are so zip and zapping through your body like thunder and lightening. 

There are exceptions, though. In this case three exceptions, three moments in a day in which he brakes the ban, and you, for once, allow yourself some weakness. 

“Good morning,” Is moment one. He says that every day, when he blinks himself awake on the couch. Ever since you’ve been there, a total of six days now, Spencer has slept on the couch, right next to the armchair you’ve claimed as your own. For these, you meet his eyes and nod, as if saying same to you.

Breakfast is quiet. He makes coffee and you make eggs, because despite you being there under forced circumstances, you are not going to be ungrateful and so you pay him back by getting groceries and cooking most meals. Which leads you to exception number two– the moment when he drops you at the bookstore.

You two walk there at 8 and he’s gone by 8:07, giving you enough time to mumble a “Be safe,” and give him his lunch for the day. He tried telling you that you didn’t have to cook for him, but you don’t really listen. As pathetic as it seems, this is the one way you’ve found to keep what you two had before, alive. 

The third exception is the one that truly breaks your heart, again and again. It’s when he gets home, and he looks exhausted, and his hands fidget with the files he holds close to his chest. You are the first thing he looks for, and you almost melt at the way his shoulders visibly relax when he spots you– always ready for bed, always in the armchair. He stopped trying to come get you at the bookstore at night once you’ve agreed to let the officers walk you home. The spare key he added to your keychain should hold a bigger meaning than it does, though it feels like it does hold a bigger weight. A means to an end, you tell yourself every time you unlock his front door. This is just a means to an end. “Thank you,” he will then say, before he even moves to the kitchen to see whatever it was on the plate you had made and set in the microwave for him. “And good night.” By then, you’re already semi-asleep and you don’t really say anything. 

You never thought you would miss these forbidden exceptions when they’re gone. 

You know that travel is a big part of Spencer’s job, but with all that is going on, you never really considered the fact that he might need to leave for a few days. At least not until he calls you, right before you lock the store. The irregularity of it all has you scrambling to pick it up. “Spencer?” You barely whisper, voice cracking in half as little by little, you freeze up. The sensation is like ice running through your veins, burning it’s way to your heart until it makes it stop. “Spencer? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” He quickly answers, voice rushed in a way that makes you relax. He always talks fast and you find it incredibly endearing, even during these times apart. “I’m okay, it’s okay. I’m calling because we got a case.”

“Uh, okay?”

“Y/N, that means they need us in Ohio. Today.” He seems almost hesitant to tell you he needs to leave the state. 

And you are as hesitant to accept it. “Oh,” You mumble, suddenly needing to making sure the officer assigned to you is still outside and ready to go. “Okay. Do… Do you need clothes or something?” 

Spencer’s chuckle almost makes it all okay. Almost. “No, thank you. I just– I want you to be comfortable, okay? Feel free to sleep in my bed and do anything you want to do, I don’t mind! Feel at home! Just… be comfortable.” 

For a second you nod, forgetting he can’t see you right now. “Okay. Thank you.” 

“And Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You started biting your nails when you were twelve and middle school was kicking your ass. To this day, right now, you still bite them when you’re nervous. 

“It’s good hearing your voice.” 

Going home and knowing he won’t be there is not as comforting as you thought it could be. The two of you are not speaking and the constant walking on egg shells does get tiring, so you try to rationalise this as something that is just not that bad. Maybe Spencer going on his mysterious trips is not that bad anymore. Before, your curiosity was your downfall– you worried he had gotten sick or worse. However, you don’t think knowing the truth is much better. The nature of his job is incredibly dangerous, and you don’t even know much about it. Now, you still worry, that much hasn’t changed. What has changed, though, is that getting sick would be considered lucky. Right now, you worried about the ‘or worse’. 

Your mom’s voice fills the empty space for a while. She texted you a couple of days ago and you just now got around to calling. “Sweetheart, how do we switch to video again? I want to see your face.” Alarm bells sound off in your mind and you immediately shut down the idea. “Sorry mom, I can’t right now. I’ll video call you tomorrow, okay? I’m cooking dinner right now.” Her worry is that of a mother, comforting like a blanket and familiar like a home. It is not, though, the worry you want. 

For obvious reasons, you don’t tell her what’s going on, much rather preferring to tell her about the mundane things that keep you going. “And I sold out of the book!” You say, a short-lived excitement running through you. “It’s quite exciting, mom– since I opened the shop I have never sold out of anything! This is a first!”

“That’s amazing, sweetie!” She says, and you can’t help but wonder how Spencer would’ve reacted to the news if he was there. It’s only then that you realise you’re halfway through making him a plate for when he comes home, except he won’t be back until the case is complete and you gulp, too aware of the common noises you hear around you. 

This is when you realise how much you miss you Spencer. And how much, even if unconsciously, he makes you feel comfortable and safe. You thought it was the apartment, but now, by yourself, laying on the armchair yet again, you feel vulnerable and exposed. Footsteps can be heard from time to time, neighbours getting home or leaving for the night, and every time, without a fault, you hold your breath and wait. Maybe the door will open and she will be there, or maybe it will be another delivery. God, it could be anything– a letter, flowers, another box. Knowing that Cat Adams had such easy access to Spencer’s apartment is enough to get you up and running to his room. 

Green. The walls are green, muted and cozy, and you smile even when your eyes sting with tears. There is a hole in your heart right now and it’s Spencer shaped. “God,” You groan, rubbing your tears clean so aggressively that it hurts. “When did things get so fucked up?” 

There’s no real answer to that, and you if you think any longer about this, your brain might just implode. For now, all you need is to sleep, but that won’t happen for a while; not with the way your heart speeds up at every crackle coming from his old, metal heather. Still, the chill air of Autumn seeps in through the walls, and you shiver. I want you to be comfortable, Spencer had said before leaving, and you might be crossing some boundaries right now, but you need him close to feel comfortable. You might not be able to get him, but the next best thing you have right now is one of his sweaters, and you have no qualms about opening his wardrobe and grabbing the first thing you find. Ironically enough, it’s an FBI Academy hoodie, though you can’t really imagine Spencer and all his formal glory in a hoodie. You put it on, nonetheless, shutting the door with your foot and just as you turn around, your eyes catch sight of something. Something big, and beige, and bone chilling. 

The box. 

In the heat of the moment, you simply thought he had throw it away. Hell, it would’ve made sense to throw it away! What the fuck was that box doing there…? With a shaky breath, you open the wardrobe door again, hoping, praying, that you were actually hallucinating and that what you saw was nothing but a shoe box or a bag. “God, please, be a bag, be a bag…” Safe to say, your words are in vain. “Fuck, Spencer, what is wrong with you?”

You’re shaking when you pull the box out of its hiding place, breathing shallow and fast. Reason escapes you as you quickly open it, not worried about how it was or even about putting it back in place; if it was up to you, this box would’ve been gone a long time ago. Clearly, it had not been up to you. “Oh my god, I’m going to be sick.” 

Expectations are a tricky thing to deal with. When it comes to your life, you never expected anything big. You know your limitation better than anyone and the largest you’ve dreamt before was the store. You didn’t expect an FBI agent. You didn’t expect a serial killer. And you certainly didn’t expect a box full of sex toys. “What the…” You don’t want to touch them, not with your bare hands, but it looks like there are tens of toys in there, varying in shapes and sizes and colours. It makes you wonder… last he told you, her games are psychological and manipulative. From what you are seeing, though, this is incredibly physical. This is about touch and intimacy and… fuck. This is about connection. You don’t have to be a profiler to know that, not when you are so secretive about your own toys, hidden in the back of your besides drawer away from unwanted eyes. It’s a private thing, and only people you trusted, people you let into your life, knew about them. 

Before you know what you’re doing, you rush to find your phone. It’s somewhere in the house, and you need to find it, you need to call him. “Pick up,” You whisper when you finally find it in the living room, under your favourite blanket on the chair. Even your fingers are shaking, vision a bit blurred from the adrenaline rushing through you– you feel like you’re in danger, and you don’t know what to do. “Spence, pick up, pick up, please pick up–“

“Hello?” You almost cry when you hear his raspy voice on the other side. It doesn’t make you feel any better to think that you might just have woken him up.

“Spencer,” You whine, embarrass with how needy you sound. The nice officer that brought you home is standing outside the door, and you could’ve gone to him– could’ve opened the door, asked him to stay inside, talk to him a little. Or you could’ve called Penelope. She had given you her number with promises that more often then not, she stayed behind to work from the BAU office. There is no place safer than my office, she had promised you, but how do you tell her that the problem is not your environment, it’s not where you are or what you’re doing… how do you tell her that the problem is you? She might not understand it so you don’t even dare try to explain it. You don’t dare to give her and the team this part of yourself too and you shut your mouth with a firm hand over your lips. 

Memories of a life you left behind flash behind your eyes, and you whimper, hugging your knees to your chest while you hear him desperately calling for you. As far as you can, you kick that godforsaken box away from you. “Y/N?! Y/N, say something, please! Are you okay? Y/N!”

“I’m here,” You whisper, pushing your hair away from your face. “I’m here.’ 

“What’s going on?” 

“Spencer, I–” A moment of regret and hesitation makes you pause. What can he even do all the way from Ohio? “I want to go home.” 

You’re not his priority. 

You’ll never be his priority. 

There is no point to this.

“…did something happen?” This is the Spencer you know– voice soft and guarded– and for a second it feels like you two are getting to know each other all over again. “Did officer Kaper make you uncomfortable? I’ll ask for a change of guard, I’ll–“

“N-No,” You cut him off with a shaky exhale. Your head falls on your free hand, finger tangled with your messy hair, and you tug on it. Sharply, the tingly pain on your scalp grounds you for a second, brings you back to this situation you created. “No, Spence, no no no, I just want to go home, I need to go home, I–“ 

“Y/N, breathe,” He coaches you as gently as he can, voice stable and strong, everything you seem to be lacking. “You’re going to set yourself off in a panic again if you don’t breathe. You’re safe in my apartment, okay? I know it’s not the same as being home, I know, but you’re safe there!”

“You’re not here, Spence!” 

There is a moment of silence for both of you. “You’re not here and you didn’t throw that fucking box away,” You whisper, keeping the moment something in between just the two of you. It’s enough that you are falling apart like this in front of Spencer, you don’t need officer Kaper bursting in the door to witness this too.

“You found the box,” He sighs. This is the first time you notice just how tired he sounds.

“I found the box,” You confirm, sniffling in a stubborn attempt to not start crying all over again. 

“It’s evidence. I can’t throw it away, Y/N.”

“Why is it here?”

“I’ve been working on the case on my free time and it just made sense to keep it at home…” 

“Spence, I want to go home. I don’t feel safe,” You admit, shaking your head. “I don’t feel safe here when you’re not here, Spence, I want to go home.” 

“I thought you hated me.”

“Spencer…” He has a point, though, and you know it. This is the first time you two speak in days, the first time you experience this type of comfort again, but it’s still not enough. He’s still not here, next to you, watching over you. He’s still not with you. “Spencer, I’m sorry.” 

“Silly girl, why are you apologising?” He asks, chuckling on the other side and you can picture him– you can see him shaking his head, hair falling around his pretty face like a perfect picture frame when his eyes, pure honey with specks of green, search for yours. Yeah… you can imagine it to perfection, almost like you are the one with eidetic memory. “This is all my fault. And I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you, Y/N and I’m trying to protect you, so I need you to stay there, okay? I need you to stay in my apartment, please.” 

You don’t know what to tell him. Your eyes wander around the room, looking at all the details he left behind without even noticing. There is a copy of Dostoevsky on the bed side table. I hate Russian literature, you remember telling him once. He was in the shop, bringing you coffee, when you caught a glimpse of a book you certainly didn’t sell him. And I’m appalled you’ve been buying books somewhere else. The way he laughed then, like his biggest problem in the world was explaining to you that this had been a gift from a friend and that he would never betray your trust like this. What do you hate so much about it?, he had asked, leaning over the counter and into you, eager to debate this topic he loved so much. I hate that it’s all about suffering. Even the moments of realisation and self-improvement, they are all through suffering and misery. And of course he had a retort to that, fingers twitching with his enthusiasm. But it’s contextual, you see! Those were written in time of civil unrest and political chaos, and it makes sense to have characters and plot lines that revolve around suffering when that is all you know from the world around you. To this day, your answer paralyses you. I’m a believer in silver linings and happy endings. And not because I’m naive or ignorant, but because the world around me has made me believe that there must be something better out there. Isn’t that nicer?

“Y/N, please tell me you’ll stay there, I need you to stay there.” 

His words almost escape you, but you catch them in the very last minute. It gives you a glimpse into a side of him he has yet to show you, and it absolutely shatters your heart in bits. I need you to stay there, he had said. Not you need to stay there, but I need you to stay there. Suddenly, you realise that this– all of this, the relocation, the involvement of the FBI, the dropping off and picking up– is not just for you. 

“I’ll stay here,” Whispering with him like this helps. “I’ll stay. I’m sorry I woke you up.” 

“Don’t be. I’m happy you called.” 

“I’ll let you go back to sleep, but Spence?” 

“Yeah?”

“Be safe. I need you back here.”

“I’ll be home in no time.” 

For a second, you trust him. You trust everything will be okay, that you can make everything okay until he gets back, and then you’ll pass the responsibility onto him. For a second, you trust him, but you also trust yourself. 

Everything will be okay. 

Everything will be okay. 

Everything will be okay. 

You fall asleep like this; wearing his hoodie and hugging your phone, nose buried on his pillow in hopes to dream of him. The sun wakes you up, and there are birds chirping at your window. Despite the heaviness you feel in you and dooming headache you know will settle soon, the romantic in you believes that today will be a good day. That today will be an okay day.

“Miss Y/L/N? It’s officer Kaper.” 

The knock doesn’t scare you anymore. On days one through three it had you jumping on air, heart about to stop from how fast it was beating. Days four and five were easier, less scary and more anxious, waiting for the punctual 9AM knock. From day six onwards, it was a welcome start to your day, knowing that someone is looking after you. 

You check the fisheye like Spencer told you to, and then you open the door only when you recognise the face on the other side. “Good morning, Officer,” You smile, nodding at him a bit stiffly. The two of you had been formally introduced by JJ, but it didn’t make this any less awkward for you. “Would you like some coffee?” 

“Sure,” He nods, smiling as he comes inside with his usual stack of mail. Everyday, without fail, someone picks up your mail and brings it to Officer Kaper. “Here’s your mail for the day, ma’am.” 

“How was the night shift?” It’s almost like a scripted conversation, these back and forth questions you throw at each other, and you’re finding that you hate this. You hate the stiff conversations and the self-imposed bans. But this is day two, and in just more two days, Spencer would be home. And you would talk to him, just like you used to before, just like you did over the phone. Nothing will change; you’re not going home any time soon and Cat Adams isn’t going to just magically disappear. It’s time to accept it and learn how to live with it, as hard as that sounds. 

Sifting through your mail has to be your favourite part of the day. It’s normal, slightly boring, and a peek into the routine you used to have and love. No one ever sends you letters, so it’s just bills. “Water, electricity, marketing, marketing,” The coffee is brewing in the background and Officer Kaper is telling you about his daughter. She’s a tiny girl, just two and very, very shy, but apparently, she loves stories. “I might have a book for her,” You get distracted from the letters for a second, smiling at the kind officer. “I’ll bring it to you later tonight!” 

When you look back again, it’s the one on top. 

The envelope is white, like any other letter, and it has no thing in the back but your name and address scribbled in red, a big heart right next to it. “Uh, Officer, this is… this is weird.” You’ve been instructed to let someone know if you received anything unlabelled or unexpected. This letter is certainly unexpected. “It has no return address.” 

“May I open it?” He asks and you nod. He opens it with a knife, pulling a small piece of paper inside. “Okay, it seems like a normal letter. There is no signature of any kind.”

“What does it say?” You’re nervous now, walking around Officer Kaper to read over his shoulder. “Oh my god.” 

“Does this mean anything to you?” 

Nodding, you’re dialling Spencer’s number already. “It means I’m fucked.” 

On the table, laid a message you’d never forget.

He’s not yours to keep. 

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

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God’s Favorite/Devil’s Choice • Ellie Williams

☢️ religious trauma • child abuse (emotional and physical • mental illness • physical illness • emotional trauma • death ☢️

Main Masterlist • Ellie Williams Masterlist

“Momma?” You asked quietly, watching out the window at the back yard. The winter had hit Jackson hard which left the entirety of the town covered in snow and frost. It looked like someone had forgotten to draw in the details of real life.

“Yes, Baby?” Your mother hummed from her spot in the living room, feet up on the coffee table and book in her hand.

You looked down at the water your hands were in and the dishes you had just washed from dinner. You weren’t sure if you should ask but the question was eating you up inside. “Was all that really true?”

“All what, Baby?” Your mother asked. You released the water from the sink and clambered down from the chair you stood on carefully. You returned the chair to the dining table and moved slowly towards the living room, half hiding in the doorway.

“Am I really going to hell?” You asked her softly and she chuckled, patting the space beside her on the sofa. You joined her, climbing up on the cushion beside her.

“I wish you weren’t.” She sighed, pulling you onto her lap and holding you close. She rocked you slightly as you sniffled. “I’ve been trying to save your soul since birth but some people, well they’re just damned.”

You cried into her chest and she rocked you quietly, shushing you. Her hand ran up and down your back slowly and you had almost drifted to sleep when she tapped your leg. “You can’t sleep yet.”

You blinked at her sleepily before nodding, climbing down off her lap and stumbling towards the little cupboard under the stairs. You were five now. You had to say your prayers for an hour every night before bed.

The door to the closet closed behind you and plunged you into darkness. You didn’t like this part. You were afraid of the dark but your mother told you that you had to pray in here. You had to try and save your soul from hell.

///

“Well this just fucking sucks, doesn’t it?” You winced when Ellie dropped herself at your table, her arms crossed. She looked around and then looked back to you. “Why do you sit on your own? Are you the town freak, am I committing social suicide on my first day of school?”

You didn’t want to tell her. In fact you would die for just one friend that your mother hadn’t run away with her Bible rhetoric but you knew this wouldn’t last long. She was rough, always swearing and she seemed to be more world weary than you. Your mother didn’t like you to know a lot about what went outside the walls of Jackson because it opened your mind to sin.

“You kind of are.” You told her quietly. She looked around again at the other tables before shrugging and picking up her sandwich. “Dina is pretty cool. You could sit with her.”

“I’ve never been cool. I was a loser back in my old school and I met my best friend that way. Don’t want to break my lucky streak now.” She spoke with food in her mouth and grinned at you. You winced but couldn’t help the little laugh you gave her. It would be nice to have a friend for a little while again.

“Have you ever heard of Savage Starlight?” Ellie asked and you shook your head. This launched her into a massive spiel on what had to be the greatest comic book ever made and she informed you about all the characters and story lines she had gotten to read.

“‘Course I don’t know how it ends which is fucking annoying but I suppose that’s my little taste to understand how surviving the outbreak was hard. What about you?” Ellie asked and you blinked at her before shrugging. “Got any hobbies?”

“Not really. I got a lot of chores to do after school. I don’t really get time.” You explained and Ellie scrunched her face up. “It’s just me and Momma. I gotta help her out cause she’s not able to get around that easy.”

“Oh. Was she hurt?” Ellie asked softly and you smiled at her thoughtfulness but shook your head. “What then?”

“She’s getting old, she says. So I have to help. That’s my job as a daughter, you know?” You explained and she seemed to be pondering the thought before shrugging.

“I mean I’m an orphan, so not really. Joel doesn’t make me do chores because he’s boring and likes doing them. Says it reminds him of before.” Ellie explained and you nodded. It made sense.

“Were you always an orphan?” You asked and she nodded, sipping at her water. “My pa died before I was born too.”

“Nice. I don’t actually know if my dad died but I’ve been in an orphanage since basically my birth. Joel is kind of like my dad except not, you know?” Ellie asked and you shook your head. You hadn’t really ever had a dad around so you couldn’t really relate.

“Not really but I’m glad you have someone.” You told her and she smiled brightly at you.

“I think now I have two someone’s.” You shared her smile a little reluctantly. Ellie was nice, you knew that made it hurt more when they didn’t want to be friends anymore.

///

“That girl, with the swearing? Is she in your class?” Your mother asked. You were stood at the sink, staring out at the back yard. Summer had come and the flowers you had planted in the spring were all in bloom. You were rather proud of them.

“Ellie?” You asked for clarification but you knew it could only be her. She had been at the Tipsy Bison with Joel for dinner and she had been swearing up a storm. “The new girl?”

“Yes, the new girl. Don’t be daft on purpose, it doesn’t suit you.” You ducked your head focusing on the warm water your hands were in. “Is she in your class?”

“There’s only one class, Momma.” You sighed and heard the sofa creak as your mother stood from her seat. You counted the foot steps it took for her to get to you.

“That sort of cheek is the reason you’ll never get past the gates of heaven.” Your mother snapped and you winced in preparation when she took a handful of your hair and pulled you towards the cupboard under the stairs. “I don’t know why I even try with you anymore. Get in there.”

The closet had gotten cramped with age but still you were supposed to fit in and pray for at least an hour when your mother got like this. She didn’t pray with you but she did expect you to pray out loud without any pauses or noises of shuffling around.

Your eyes would adjust in a few minutes and you would have to find a cramped position in which you could be comfortable because any sign of stiffness or soreness would be seen as a regret for having prayed and earn you another hour.

“I can’t hear you.” Your voice raised in level and you counted the prayers out on your fingers hoping you didn’t miss one. She wouldn’t tell you until after and you’d have to start all over again. Tears of frustration pricked at your water line and you did your best to keep your voice steady.

You hadn’t been cheeky. You were just answering her question. She was so convinced of your damned soul that she took any chance to try absolve your sins immediately after you had committed them. You weren’t sure why you weren’t able to go a day without sinning but you knew deep down your mother was right. You were awful and you would go to hell because you had been lying to her.

You and Ellie had been friends for weeks now and she had understood when you told her that your mother didn’t like you having friends. She never approached you outside of school when you were with your mother and it had turned into one of the longest friendships you’d ever had without her to get in the way.

So you prayed a little harder for your lies and begged god not to remove the first good thing that had happened to you in years.

///

“Joel is teaching me to play guitar.” Ellie told you quietly. You were supposed to be filling out your math worksheets together but both you and Ellie were very good at math and had finished them in the first five minutes. “He wanted to be a singer when he was younger.”

“Is he any good?” You asked, laughing at the idea of big Joel Miller singing the gospel music your mother played for you when she was in a good mood.

“I think so. He’s good at country at least. I don’t know about all those old pop songs that he sings while he’s washing dishes. He just looks and sounds stupid then.” Ellie told you with a grin and you laughed again.

“He seems really fun. Me and Momma don’t have fun like that.” You told her, hand reaching up to sooth your scalp that had been burning. Four times this week she’d dragged you by your hair to pray.

“I wish you could come over to our house. Joel could make dinner and you could see the garage. I basically live on my own.” Her chest puffed out and you were in awe. You’d like to live on your own you think.

“I wish I could too. I could see all your comics and posters.” You sighed wistfully and she bumped her shoulder against yours.

“I’ll just bring them all in one by one for you to see.” She promised and you smiled brightly at her, swallowing against the almost sick feeling you got in your stomach when Ellie was nice to you.

“I know you’re gonna say this is sappy but you’re my best friend, you know that?” You asked her and she laughed.

“I’m your only friend, Angel.” That nickname seemed like it was gonna stick. Ellie had chosen it when she asked why you always paused before eating your lunch. When you had explained that you were praying she had tagged you with the nickname despite your protests that you were far from an angel.

“You’re still the best.” You promised her and she laughed, resting her head on your shoulder for a minute before straightening up again. Ellie didn’t like saying sappy stuff so she chose to touch you in some way instead, it was how she showed she liked someone. “Yeah, I know. You love me too.”

She laughed and pushed you away but you noticed her cheeks turning pink and you knew you had hit the nail on the head. You were her best friend too. You’d never had that before.

///

“Momma?” You climbed the stairs slowly, surprised to not find your mother in the living room when you got home from school. There was no reply to your call and you found the bathroom door wide open along with your mothers bedroom door.

But yours was shut tightly.

You weren’t sure why your heart was pounding as you stepped closer to the door, your hand reaching for the door knob. You took a deep breath and turned it, pushing the door open.

Your room was destroyed, everything pulled out of place, all of your books open and tattered on the ground. Your dresser drawers were overturned on the ground with your clothes spilled everywhere. “Momma?”

She was sitting on the edge of your bed, just waiting and watching your reaction. You looked around again and then back to her for explanation. “Are you okay?”

Your stomach was sinking and your lungs were constricting. She knew something she shouldn’t know and you only had one secret when it came to your mother. There was only one you couldn’t share. Ellie Williams.

“You’ve been very careful.” Your mother noted casually. Like she wasn’t in the middle of your upturned room, like she hadn’t made this mess. “Not even a trace of her.”

Of course there wasn’t. She had wanted you to bring home some of her comics but you had denied her. All the little notes she had written you were tucked away in your workbook in class. You knew better than to think you had that level of privacy at home. “Trace of who, Momma?”

“Ellie Williams.” Her tone was cold and you stayed in the doorway, not daring to get any closer to her when she was like this. It was a long way down the stairs to the cupboard if she got your hair now.

“I don’t know what you mean, Momma.” Your voice shook and she laughed at you. You didn’t know how your mother made such an expression of joy manage to be the exact opposite, cold and unfeeling.

“If I didn’t know better then I’d believe you.” She said and you swallowed, looking around again like you had been careless enough to forget something. “But when Joel Miller approached me to ask could you have a sleepover, promised it wouldn’t interrupt your chores. I had to pretend to know that you’d been talking to his girl.”

You felt faint. Your hand reached out for the door frame to steady yourself when your knees buckled. You had been so careful but not careful enough.

Your mother lifted her hands and settled a long black belt over her lap, smoothing the leather of it with her index fingers. It was your belt and you suddenly had to fight the urge to vomit.

“I always knew your soul was damned.” She sighed like the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. “But I never could’ve guessed to what extent. You’ve broken two commandments.”

“Momma, I didn’t.” You spoke quickly, fear pulsing adrenaline around your body. “I didn’t lie to you. I promise. I never told you that we talked because we sit beside each other in class. We aren’t friends, Momma. She just doesn’t understand that I have other priorities, Momma.”

The words burned you to speak them. It felt a greater sin to forsake Ellie’s friendship than to lie to your mother and when the tears pricked your eyes you knew it to be true. “I’m sorry, Momma.”

“You’ve just lied to me again, haven’t you?” She asked and you nodded slowly. There wasn’t a god on this world or the next that would have you deny Ellie.

“She’s nice to me, Momma. She doesn’t treat me mean the way everyone else does.” You explained through your tears. “I just wanted one friend. Just one.”

“You have one friend. The only friend you need. Jesus Christ who died for your sins.” Your mother stood and walked towards you.

“It’s not a sin to love Ellie, Momma. She’s my best friend.” Your mother froze in place, her eyes narrowed at you. You realized your mistake a second too late. “Not like that, Momma. We’re just friends.”

“Praying ain’t enough for you, child.” She handed over the belt and you stared at it in confusion. You had expected her to hit you with it. Maybe you were too harsh on your mother. “Go on, ten lashes.”

“You want me to-”

“Over your back. You’ll have to take your top of but self flagellation will work better than prayer. Don’t go easy either, if it don’t hurt it ain’t working.” She urged and you stared at her, bile crawling up your throat. “Come on now.”

“Momma, I didn’t do anything wrong.” You sobbed but she didn’t move, watching you with those cold eyes. “Momma.”

“Ten. I’ll count.”

///

“Dude, where the hell were you?” Ellie exclaimed when you took your seat next to her almost four days later. She wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you fought the hiss of pain, leaning into the comfort of her embrace.

You had suffered for this sin, you might as well commit it now.

“Got sick.” You explained and she let you go, looking you over. You knew how you looked. Your eyes were puffy and you were walking with a stiffness that came from being on your knees praying for almost three days straight.

“Damn, you look like hell.” She whispered and you couldn’t help the laugh. Hell was only the half of it. You had been through it all and back again in the last four days and you had made a decision.

You were choosing Ellie. No matter the pain or the punishment, you weren’t going to lose Ellie. You’d rather face an eternity of Hell in the afterlife than choose a moment without her in this one.

“I missed you.” You told her quietly and let your head rest on her shoulder. It pulled at your back but the comfort outweighed the pain you were feeling and so you didn’t move. “I missed you a lot.”

“I missed you too.” Ellie promised quietly, her head resting against yours. “And don’t be mad but Joel totally put his foot in it the other day. He asked you mom why you couldn’t sleep over. He didn’t know it was a secret.”

“Oh.” You tried to keep your voice steady. “She never said anything. Probably thought he had the wrong person.”

“Thats a relief. I didn’t want you to get in trouble over me.” Ellie sighed and the pair of you sat up when class began. Ellie kept her leg firmly against yours though and you were grateful for the comfort it offered.

When lunch came about Mrs Collins called your name and held you back while everyone else went to get food. You made you way up to her desk and she gave you a gentle smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” You promised her. Your mother had told everyone that you had been sick. You weren’t sure why it wasn’t a sin when she lied.

“Your mother told me you got a pretty nasty case of food poisoning?” Mrs Collins asked and you nodded, wondering was this another sin to pray for. “She also made a strange request.”

Your heart dropped and you looked back over your shoulder to where Ellie was waiting for you in the doorway, her back to you both. “Please don’t.”

“You want to tell me why she wouldn’t want you sitting by Ellie?” Mrs Collins asked and you shook your head, tears in your eyes. “If Ellie is hurting you or being mean to you then you can tell me.”

“No. She’s my best friend. Please don’t. I’m not allowed see her outside of school.” You explained in a rush, knowing you shouldn’t be sharing this much.

“Okay. It’s okay.” Mrs Collins insisted and you wiped at your face to dry the tears you didn’t mean to shed. “You and Ellie can stay beside each other. I’ll tell your mother I separated you both.”

///

“Only two weeks left.” You and Ellie were sixteen now, sitting with your backs against the school house. Well, Ellie was sitting back, you were a little more mindful of how the rough stone might hurt.

“What are we going to do then?” Ellie still didn’t understand the extent of your reasoning for why your mother couldn’t see you both being friends. She thought that you were old enough now to just make your own decisions.

“Well we could work together right? Your mom can’t stop that. You have to work in Jackson.” That much was true but you knew Ellie wanted to patrol just like Joel did. She had the urge to always be trying to save the world and you knew your mother wouldn’t allow it.

“You want to patrol. I’ll probably end up a waitress or in the greenhouses.” You sighed and ran a hand over your face. Ellie laughed a little and reached for your hand, tangling your fingers together and you paused, staring at them.

Ellie was turning steadily red but she didn’t let go, she tightened her grip and tugged so you’d turn to look at her. “I do want to patrol. But I want to spend time with you more. I can clean dishes or something if needs be.”

You stared at Ellie, your head tilted slightly as you studied her. She didn’t hide from you but she was blushing fully this time. You stared a second longer.

Oh.

Oh.

“Ellie.” You sighed before laughing. She attempted to free her hand but you held on tighter. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“How?” She exclaimed and it seemed like she had been holding this in for a long time with how it burst out of her. “I know you’re like super religious and most religious people hate gay people and we’re best friends and I don’t want to lose you.”

“Ellie.” You laughed again before reaching out and clasping her face in your hands. You didn’t give her a second, pulling her in and kissing her firmly. “I would walk into hell gladly knowing that I’ve held heaven in my hands.*”

“Oh you’re so fucking gay.” Ellie laughed and kissed you again, her fingers tangling in your hair. Those words should’ve terrified you but you had come to terms with it years ago while you willingly took lashings for punishment. You knew you’d take any form of torture to get to this point.

“I can’t tell anyone. Not yet. My momma will find out but Ellie, I’ve got a plan.” You promised and she smiled, her hand moving from your hair to cup your cheek.

“I haven’t told Joel yet. It’s okay.” She promised, her forehead pressing to yours.

///

You’d had a plan. It had been a good plan. Your best plan yet. Your plan did not factor Ellie and her teeth into account. The small mark she had made, definitely an accident, had given you away. Your mother had always been more than suspicious of Ellie and it seemed that even though a small bruise could be from any number of things it only made sense that it was her when paired with swollen lips and a light in your eyes.

“No.” She held the belt out to you and for the first time you refused it, shaking your head and crossing your arms. Fire burned in your mothers eyes and her jaw clenched.

“You have sins you need to repent for. You’ll burn in hell.” She cautioned and you felt the tears finally fall from your eyes, your bravery slipping away.

“Momma I love her. I’ve been in love with her since before I knew what it was.” You sobbed and she looked even angrier if possible. “How can this be wrong?”

“No child of mine will embarrass me like this before God himself.” Your mother insisted and you lifted your hands in desperation. “I won’t stand for it.”

“What more can you do?” You asked her quietly, desperately. Your love for Ellie wasn’t a flaw and it couldn’t be a sin. You didn’t want to be fixed or cured or healed. Something that felt this pure couldn’t be anything other than a blessing.

“I told you. I won’t have it.” Your mother insisted and you stared at her, unable to understand her threat. “The Lord says suicide is a sin but surely he’d understand I just couldn’t be tainted by your sin.”

“Momma, don’t do that.” You couldn’t help your tears. “It’s not bad. It’s not!”

“It is and you know it. You wouldn’t have hidden it if you weren’t ashamed of your sin.” She told you and you choked back on your sobs. “You knew that you’d never be without sin but to go and do this. I knew since you were born that you were filled with sin but I didn’t think it was cause you were one of them!”

“Momma! You know I can’t change it. I can’t. I love her.” You were choking on the tears and she only shook her head. “You can’t do that, Momma. You can’t.”

“You want me to stay alive then you stop seeing her.”

///

“Hey Angel, you okay?” Ellie asked and you blinked at her before shaking your head.

“I can’t do this. I thought I could but I can’t.” Your back was raw from the amount of repenting you had required the evening before.

“Can’t do what?” Ellie asked, unsure.

“This. Us. I thought I could reconcile it but it’s not something I can allow myself to do.” You told her, tears already flowing down your cheeks.

“What? Allow yourself to what?” Ellie asked. “Be fucking happy?”

“I won’t be happy if I move out of my Momma’s. I’ll never forgive myself for leaving her there.” You told Ellie honestly. “I’m sorry I didn’t realise this before.”

“You can’t be serious.” Ellie stared at you, her face guarded like you were going to laugh and tell her it was a sick joke. “You are serious.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You wanted her to understand but she was too heroic. She would try help if she thought this wasn’t your decision.

“Yeah. So am I for not taking your fucking word for it the first day I met you. I should’ve sat with someone else.”

///

“Saw your girl started patrol today.” You looked up from the soapy water in the sink to where your mother was standing by the back door. You blinked at her, coming out of the daze you had been in. “That ain’t no job for a woman.”

She had been horrible the last few weeks. Telling you all about Ellie’s coming and goings when you refused to leave the house for anything other than work. Washing dishes down at the Bison. Everyone had to do their part, you hated doing yours.

It wasn’t a bad job per se. You could zone out and let muscle memory take over as you scrubbed the plates clean. No one talked to you much on account of your mother and it got you out of the house for a few hours every evening.

The problem was Ellie came to the diner every night with Dina and Jesse. She didn’t linger and you doubted that she even knew you were in the back. But you always found a second to pause when you heard her voice, as familiar to you as your own heartbeat.

“You never had anything to say when any other women go on patrol. Maria’s been doing it since the walls went up.” Your head jerked back with her grip on your hair and her hand pressed to the spot between your shoulder blades causing you to hiss.

“I didn’t ask for your sass.” She warned and you blinked back tears from the pain. “I think you oughta get to praying.”

“I got work, Momma.” You told her and she gripped your hair tighter. Her hand dug into your back, nails pressing deep.

“Better go get the belt then if you’re in such a hurry.” Your mother spat and released your hair. “Every time you talk like that I get reminded that you’re a child of the devil.”

You had a hard time believing that having the devil for a mother would be any different than the Momma you had.

///

It was years before you saw the signs. You had turned twenty one under your mothers watchful glare. She threatened harm on herself if you so much as came home late from work. You wondered why you cared so much that she remained unharmed when you hadn’t been able to lie on your back for years.

It all became clear one night when you followed the noise of her downstairs. She was standing in the kitchen, looking around in confusion. “Baby, what’re you doing up so late?”

She hadn’t called you Baby in years. Not since before you had met Ellie. She claimed that no baby of hers could be full of sin. “Just checking you’re okay, Momma.”

“I’m fine. Just a little lost.” She told you, an airy laugh on her lips. “I can’t find the bathroom.”

She was standing in a puddle.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Dealing with her was both harder and easier after your discovery. Maria let you stay home and care for her when you went to her and explained what was happening. There wasn’t exactly a nursing home you could send her to.

She began to pass through phases, a different version of your mother every time you talked to her. Sometimes you had your Momma back, a sweet woman who told you how pretty you’d grown to be. Sometimes you had your mother, the one who remembered Ellie.

Then one morning, the month you were turning twenty two, you had no mother. She had fallen asleep in her rocking chair and that was where you found her.

You sat with her for a long time. Just staring at her and wondered when it had gotten to the point that you stopped caring about her. Her death didn’t seem to have done anything besides giving you a sense of freedom you had only ever felt once before with Ellie’s lips on yours and her hands in your hair.

You found it within yourself to change her and wash her. She wouldn’t have wanted anyone else to do it. You laid her out in her own bed and then made your way down to the clinic to get a doctor to finally free you from her.

///

You had elected not to have a funeral service for your mother. You hadn’t even attended her burial yourself. No one had liked your mother, not even you. Maria had tried to sympathize with you but you hadn’t let her. She was the only one who tried.

You found yourself moving out of her house and into a small one bedroom cottage Maria had offered up. You returned to the Bison to wash dishes. You lived a boring life without prayers or belts or a constant ache on your scalp from having your hair pulled out by the root.

You could read books and leave the dishes overnight and play music that didn’t mention Jesus. Your back healed up but would forever be scarred but you knew without a doubt that your pain was at an end.

It had ended alongside her heartbeat and you knew for sure it was a bad thing to think but you no longer punished yourself for bad thoughts.

You no longer punished yourself.

///

A knock on the door gave you a pause and you looked up from your book to the living room window but you couldn’t see your front porch from the angle you were sat at. Just the pouring rain that had washed into Jackson a couple of days ago.

You pushed yourself up and answered the door, expecting Maria who came to check up on you monthly to make sure you hadn’t succumbed to madness while being so isolated.

It wasn’t Maria. It was Ellie.

She was soaked, rain water running down her hair and face into her clothes. You couldn’t say anything and chose instead to just stare at her as she left a puddle on your porch.

“Your mom died?” She asked and you marveled in how you had gone from speaking to her every day for almost four years to have gone longer without her words aimed at you.

“She did.” You answered slowly after a few minutes of just the rain for background noise. You continued to stare at her.

“I’m sorry.” You blinked, falling out of your trance at the condolences she offered. You folded your arms across your chest.

“What do you want Ellie?” You didn’t mean to sound harsh but you didn’t want her apologies. You wanted her to leave so you could get on with your quiet life.

“I want to know if she was the reason.” Ellie stopped pretending the second you did, grim determination on her face.

“We were kids, Ellie.” You sighed and she wiped the water off her face and clenched her jaw. “You can’t be still thinking about it.”

“Still thinking about it?” She exclaimed. “I ain’t stopped thinking about you. I’ve spent the last six years wondering if your mom wasn’t around would we be together.”

“Ellie.” You sighed heavily, stepping back from the doorway. She looked panicked for a second and you opened the door wider. “Come in before you catch your death.”

///

You got Ellie clothes to change into and a towel to dry herself off. When she returned to your living room she was wrapped in your clothes, toweling her hair dry. You had lit the small fire in your living room and now you were standing by the window, watching the rain.

“I didn’t know she had died.” Ellie spoke quietly and you looked up at her, releasing a sigh. You took a seat on your sofa, inviting Ellie to sit next to you. “Maria mentioned it in passing while we were at dinner. I came straight over here.”

“She had dementia or Alzheimer’s. One of those. It was bound to happen.” You explained to her and she nodded slowly.

“I know you really loved her.” Ellie sighed and you turned your head to look at her.

“I didn’t. Not really. I had a really tough life with her.” You explained to Ellie and she nodded like she had always known that. She didn’t get to nod like that. She didn’t know the half of it. “I think she had her sickness my whole life. She was batshit insane.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Ellie asked and you shrugged. You weren’t sure why you hadn’t been able to tell anyone. Mostly, you reasoned, you hadn’t known she was sick. How could you tell Ellie that you thought you were the problem? That you were so full of sin even your own mother couldn’t love you?

“It was my problem to deal with.” You told her honestly. “What are you really doing here?”

“To see if your okey. To see if there’s a chance we got it wrong at sixteen.” Ellie turned to face you, drawing her knees up to her chest. You couldn’t look at her.

“We?” You asked, picking at your nail beds and ignoring how close she was, how your body lit up in response.

“Yeah. We. You for calling it all off and me for letting you walk away.” You turned to look at her, incredulous. “I shouldn’t have given up.”

“That’s exactly what you should’ve done. Anything else would’ve made it so much worse.” You told her, pinching the bridge of your nose to ward off the headache you could feel coming.

“I could’ve helped!” Ellie insisted. “I could’ve given you the support you needed.”

“You couldn’t have made me straight!” You yelled, standing up from the sofa. You paced back to the window, staring out at the rain. “I needed to not be like this. You couldn’t have fixed that. She hated me.”

“She was your mother.” Ellie argued and you scoffed, fighting the urge to turn and look at her. “She had to have loved you.”

“She told me she’d kill herself if I went back to you.” You turned then, wanting to see the look in her eyes. The look of disgust because you gave in, you let her control you. But Ellie didn’t look disgusted, she looked horrified. “I came home one evening with swollen lips and this tiny mark on my jaw and she knew what we’d been doing. She told me that if I kept talking about loving you that she’d kill herself to not be stained by my sin.”

“She was sick. She didn’t know what she was-” your hand went to the hem of your T-shirt, pulling it up so that she could see your back. The criss cross of scars that overlapped. Years of torture and abuse. All of it culminating in this. “Angel.”

Ellie breathed that old nickname and you dropped your shirt but she caught it, having moved closer without your knowing. Her fingers ghosted over your skin and her breath came out shaky.

“When did this start?” Ellie asked and you laughed bitterly. “This isn’t a fucking joke. When did it start?”

“The day Joel asked for a sleepover. I told you she couldn’t know. I guess you just didn’t understand why.” She let your shirt drop and you turned around to find yourself face to face with her. “She told me that I was damned at five years of age. She used to make me pray in the dark for hours at a time. When I was twelve she made me hurt myself to repent for the sin of loving you. I never could. I repented for not being sorry instead.”

“I could’ve helped. I could’ve gotten you out.” Ellie sighed, her hand coming up to your cheek. You leaned into her and closed your eyes against the emotions that were welling up. “I could’ve fucking killed her for you.”

“I would’ve taken you up on that. Isn’t the awful?” You asked her but she shook her head, wrapping her arms around you. “I was so relieved when she died.”

“Guess I don’t have to feel bad for feeling the same way. I always knew it was her. Cause this, what’s going on with us, we might’ve been kids but I know what I felt, Angel. This was the real deal.” Ellie whispered against your neck and then you let it happen. You let the tears fall. You held her tightly and you sobbed for everything you could’ve had for the last six years.

///

You were sitting on the sofa, curled up against Ellie’s chest. Her hands softly stroked your hair and you were struck silent by the parallel of your mother doing the exact opposite, hurting you so violently.

“So you gonna cut me loose or keep me this time?” Ellie asked quietly. You looked up at her and without speaking cupped her cheek in your hand and pulled her down to your level. You pressed a sweet kiss to her lips and she smiled. “Not afraid of Hell any more?”

“If loving you leads me to hell then I’ll sit at the table with all the others who gave up the idea of an eternity of heaven for a short time with the true meaning of paradise.”

*Lyra Wren on tiktok

[m00nsbaby]

Helping you with homework.

Moon system x reader. - Headcanons.

Steven.

God bless Steven Grant's heart.

Although you didn't enjoy asking for help with things like this, you knew your boyfriend was the right person for your history assignment.

Unfortunately, remembering dates was your kryptonite.

"I'll explain it to you, okay?" He put on his glasses, and you sighed.

How were you supposed to concentrate when he looked like that?

You watched him go to his room and return with at least six different books in his arms.

And you pushed your chair so close that your shoulders touched.

It started well; you were understanding the timeline from prehistory to the Middle Ages.

However, you didn't take into account that once Steven started talking about his hyperfixations, he didn't stop.

By the second hour, you weren't sure if you were still retaining anything, so you did what your instinct dictated.

You hugged his arm, the one he wasn't using to underline sentences in his book, and your cheek rested against his shoulder.

Steven's heart raced, as it always did when you touched him spontaneously.

"Am I boring you already, love?" He kissed your hair, and shortly after, you felt the weight of his cheek against your head.

"Never," you simply said as the letters began to dance in front of your eyes.

The truth was that his voice relaxed you. Steven had a tendency to speak quickly, his accent resonating in your ears and warming you to your core, but when things got intimate, his voice seemed deeper.

He spoke slowly to make sure you didn't get lost in his words.

You yawned, and he noticed but didn't say anything. In fact, he kept talking.

And talking.

And talking.

Until your eyelids grew heavy.

"And with that, we conclude the topic of feudalism." You had fallen asleep about 10 minutes ago, hugging Steven's arm and feeling his slow breath against your body.

He chuckled, a sound you didn't even register.

Steven didn't feel bad about it; he knew school was taking its toll on you, and that day you hadn't taken your usual daily nap.

He knew better than anyone that you needed rest.

And because he had once read that people feel sleepy when they're comfortable with someone.

He didn't mind having to continue your assignment by himself, doing everything possible not to move you from his shoulder.

And taking breaks now and then to place a hand on your forehead to keep you from falling forward when you nodded off.

The next day, you woke up in your bed, and Steven had already gone to work.

Under a note with a happy face drawn on it were the seven pages of your handwritten essay.

You ended the day with the highest grade in your group, several congratulations, and many embarrassed smiles that screamed, "I didn't even lift the pen off the desk all night."

Marc.

"I beg you." "No."

"Marc?" "No."

"Please?" "I said no."

You had been following him around the house for about 5 hours. Usually, you had no trouble completing your responsibilities from start to finish, but on days like today, you didn't even have the energy to turn on your laptop.

And Marc, of course, had already decided that there was no way he would help you with something like this.

In his school days, he didn't even do his own homework.

"Please, please, please." "I said no."

After begging for the 46th time, you finally gave up. The rest of the day passed just as boringly until dinner when you took the last sip of coffee from your cup.

"I'm not going to do it." After a week of constant sleep deprivation, you decided that you could afford to sleep for 8 hours just this once.

Marc looked at you in silence for a few seconds before nodding his head.

"Then let's go to sleep."

You obeyed, and you both went hand in hand to bed. Like every night, you felt him press you against his body with both arms.

The exhaustion in your body made you give in in less than 10 minutes.

But Marc couldn't sleep.

At 12:27 in the morning, he quietly got out of bed.

And at 01:53, you woke up. The fear of not feeling your daily companion almost made you cry like a little kid.

You got up to look for him, and it wasn't difficult at all. The light from your laptop illuminated the entire dining room.

And the sound of the keys echoed through the house.

"Marc?" "No," he replied again. Admitting such gestures was not his strong suit.

Still, he pushed the chair back to give you space, and you dragged your feet to sit on his lap.

You sat sideways, your head resting on his shoulder as the warmth of his body relaxed you from head to toe.

He kept typing.

You don't know how long you slept there, but a while later, you felt him carry you to bed.

And just a few hours later, your alarm went off, with Marc's arms crushing you against his chest, and your laptop patiently waiting in the dining room.

Jake.

Spanish was never your strong suit.

And you knew very well that Jake was the one who could help you, but once you asked him, you knew he wouldn't stop bothering you.

He, on the other hand, was an expert in both things: speaking fluent Spanish and teasing you.

"Jake?" "Yes, honey?" "Can I ask you something?"

And as you suspected, he didn't leave you alone all day.

"Could you pour me a glass of water?" "¿Perdón? No te escuché." (Sorry? I didn't hear you.)

You looked at him with a furrowed brow.

"¿Y bien?" (Well?)

"Un… vaso de… agua." (A glass of water.) "¿Por qué?" (Why?) "Por favor." (Please.)

You rolled your eyes for the 17th time that day.

And he kissed you for the 23rd time.

"¿Amor?" You looked up from your phone. "¿Cómo se llama esto?" (What's this called?) You watched him point to his fork.

You were 12 seconds away from murdering him with your own hands.

"Tú puedes." (You can do it.) He sounded like the host of a children's program. "Te…"

"Te…" You stared at him, waiting for more clues. "Neeee." "Dor."

Kiss number 27.

You won't deny that you didn't hit him multiple times and gave him full-body shoves since you needed all your strength to at least get him to move.

And he mocked you every time.

"I hate you." "No-oh. Intenta de nuevo." (Try again.) "¡Te odio!"

At least this time he made you laugh.

It turns out that all day you didn't get around to doing the study session you had planned for the day.

And you probably learned more than if you had done it.

Still, you cursed when you felt your boyfriend's hands on your shoulders as he approached you from behind.

You looked up, and he leaned down to your height, with that mischievous smile that seemed permanently etched on his face.

"What?" "Te amo." (I love you.)

You blushed.

"Te amo." you said back as you received a chaste kiss on your lips.

You had lost count.

"Eres el amor de mi vida." (You're the love of my life.) Another kiss. "Espero algún día encontrar las palabras para hacerte saber cuanto te amo." (I hope to someday find the words to let you know how much I love you.)

You stopped paying attention once his lips started brushing against yours as he spoke.

"Te amo." he repeated, placing another kiss on your lips.

And when you thought the day was over, he didn't miss the opportunity to test your patience once more.

"Goodnight, babe." "No te entendí." (I didn't understand you.)

In the darkness, you heard the thump you gave his chest.

"Buenas noches." You kissed his shoulder.

And yes, the next day, you let him enjoy his multiple "I told you so" moments when you passed the exam.

[goblinwithartsupplies]

This is not my original post it belongs to @caffeinatedflumadiddlebutpjo who deleted their account but it’s so good and needs to be preserved

I like that there is just... A noticeable gap in the gods' under standing of mortal children. Like, Zeus really accused a TWELVE-YEAR-OLD of stealing his master bolt and the only justification I have for this is "Well, Hermes stole Apollo's cattle right after birth so that tracks".

But now I have a theory that the gods don't rediv understand how mortal

children work and that's why they're so blase about sending them to do ridiculous nonsense?

Like...

Zeus: What do you mean 'first word'? Why would they only speak one word?

Artemis: Humans can only cry when they are born.

Zeus: Nonsense. When vou were born you didn't cry. You delivered your brother and then came to me to ask for a birthday present.

Artemis: Humans aren't the same though. They can't walk or talk for many months. When they do speak it is only in small, short words.

Zeus: …that's not true

Artemis: I'm afraid it is

Zeus, under his breath: What the fuck

Later on...

Zeus: Did you know human babies can't speak when thev're tirst born?

Poseidon: that's so sad. Are demigods like that?

Zeus: I have no idea.

Poseidon: Mavbe we should ask around more. Athena was saying something about brain development.

Zeus: Their... THEIR BRAINS AREN'T DEVELOPED?!?!

Poseidon: I guess

Zeus: THESE HUMANS ARE WALKING AROUND WITHOUT FULLY FORMED BRAINS?!

Poseidon: I mean, so are you and I don't complain.

The quest continues...

Hermes: So... you're telling me that human kids don't know how to fend themselves at all? They need to be taught? I mean, fighting, of course, but outside of that???

Poseidon: Yeah, I thought it was like fish

where you just naturally know what you’re supposed to do. But apparently they have no idea and need to be shown everything

Hermes: I... that's awful. Why?

Poseidon: I don't know.

Suddenly all the gods are very concerned...

Ares: You mean to tell me that my kids are probably traumatized from war??

Hermes: That's what the research shows. Human kids aren't supposed to handle that kind of stuff and demigods are more human than we anticipated.

Ares: But... War?

Hermes: Idk what to tell you, bud. I'm beginning to understand why they hate us tho.

Everyone is naturally panicking

Demeter: YOU SENT MONSTERS AFTER MY BABIES WHEN THEY HAD NO BRAINS AND COULDN'T EVEN READ?!?

Hecate: HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT DEMIGODS WEREN'T BORN KNOWING HOW TO READ!?!?!

Athena: Our children all have dyslexia.

Demeter: YOU LET YOUR DAUGHTERRUN AWAY WHEN SHE WAS SEVEN! SILENCE!

Athena:…And? She is very mature and had my protection. I'm not like the rest of you. rhave done my researcn on humans and led her accordingly.

Apollo: Think of it this way, Athena. She would have just started losing baby teeth when she left home.

Athena: What?

Apollo: According to my son, they shed teeth. Like, they fall out and get new, bigger ones when they re old enougn. Didn't you know that?

Hades: That's disgusting. Our children do that?

Athena: I... That's not true! Your son is a liar!

Apollo: I AM THE GOD OF TRUTH!

It's a whole thing on Olympus

Hephaestus: Wait, they NEED to eat?!?! It isn't just for fun???

Hermes: What about water???

Dionysus: How do none ot vou know these things. Maybe you all should be camp directors for awhile-

Hades: Eight hours? They need EIGHT hours of sleep? A Day? There's no way NICO Is getting that much..

Dionysus: Oh, are they? Yeah lol. None of them are getting that much.

Aphrodite: Oh my gods... What happens if they don't get enough? Do they become ugly? ARE YOU GOING TO MAKE MY KIDS UGLY?!

Zeus: They're so fragile. Why are they even allowed out of the camp?! Chiron, explain!

Chiron: You... Uh, ask them to do stuff for you?

All of Olympus: *flips a table*

[steddietogo]

Eddie finds Steve’s green sweatshirt one day after getting surprise dunked in the pool at Casa Harrington by his own sheep. It’s soft and worn like it was once Steve’s favorite thing to wear but now it lays forgotten at the back of his closet.

Eddie doesn’t think much about it, just picks it up and pulls it on. Its just him and Steve in the kitchen when he gets back. The others are arguing about which movie to put on while Steve heated up dinner for all of them like a dutiful housewife. The thought makes him laugh.

Steve turns around at the sound of his voice. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, just. You pretend to get mad when the kids call you mom but here you are, being all—” He waves his hands about trying to convey his point but Steve is already distracted.

“That sweatshirt,” Steve has a frown on his face, but it’s not exactly a bad one. Eddie wonders when he learned to read Steve like that.

He gives Steve a twirl. “Do I look good in it?” Steve smiles, doesn’t deny it.

“You know, I fought my first demogorgan in it,”

“Woah,” Eddie looks down at it, feeling something akin to wonder when he smooths his palms over the fabric.

“Yeah,”

“God, Harrington,” Eddie looks up grinning. “You gotta keep a priceless artefact like this safe,” Steve rolls his eyes and goes to pull the pizza out of the oven. He’s still smiling though.

Eddie follows, then plants his butt on the counter so he can see Steve’s face. “Is that why you don’t wear it anymore?”

Steve’s cheeks puff out like a chipmunk when he sighs heavily. Eddie has the sudden urge to pinch them.

“Kinda, at first,” He doesn’t look at Eddie when he speaks. “I don’t even know why I kept it, you know? I kinda just wanted to burn every evidence of that night,”

Eddie nods and goes to gather plates for everyone. He should say it. Steve trusted him enough to share, Eddie should too right? He hasn’t said it out loud. Not to Wayne, not to the upside down scientists approved therapist. But he could tell Steve. Steve gets it. And Eddie so badly wants to talk about it, maybe cry a little. Because out of all the things that had happened, this one really breaks his heart.

Eddie startles when a hand softly presses into the small of his back. “You okay there?” Steve has his head tilted to the side to see Eddie better and this time the frown on his face spells worry.

“I can’t play my guitar,” he blurts out. And the words rush out of him all at once. “I can’t do it, I mean I get nightmares and shit, you know. And sometimes my scars hurt so much at night that I can’t even sleep. But this one really takes the cake, like, I pick her up and my heart starts racing and I can’t breath—” It’s happening again. His chest tightens to the point that he struggles to draw in a breath and his vision blurs out as his eyes fill with tears and— oh god he’s going to die in Steve’s kitchen.

“No, Eddie you’re not going to die, I promise,” says a steady voice firm enough that he almost believes it. Then warm hands pull him into an even warmer body. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, listens to Steve telling him how to breath and slowly, after a long while, the knot starts to loosen and breathing comes easier. Steve doesn’t stop running a soothing hand over his back as Eddie sags into him, suddenly winded. His fists are balled into Steve’s shirt like a scared little kid.

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbles when he’s gathered enough energy to start feeling embarrassed at how quickly he fell apart.

“Nothing to be sorry about, I swear, happens to the best of us,”

Eddie snorts, “Okay mom,” Steve swats at his arm. Eddie finally pulls away after a while. “Think I really needed that,”

“Hey, if you want, you can come over and trying playing over here?” Steve shrugs. “Maybe a change of location can help, I’ll even hold your hand through it,”

“How am I supposed to play if you’re holding my hand, dummy,” Eddie snarks, hiding his smile behind his hair. “But I’ll think about your offer,” There’s literally nothing to think about, what was he going to say, no? Steve’s answering look tells Eddie he knows too.

And if Eddie leans into Steve when he put his arm around Eddie in the sofa while sharing a blanket, well that’s his business.

[carlsdarling]

carl with fingering. it can be anything. any scenario. it’s all i can think about right now because LOOK AT HIS HANDS.

please and thank you 🙏🏼 keep on doing gods work 💗

Piano Player's Hands

Y/N gets really obsessed with Carl's hands... Bit more of a plot, than sex. Everyone is 18 or over.

WARNINGS: smut, nsfw

Piano player's hands, that's what popped into your head when you first became aware of Carl Grimes' hands during a boring meeting at the Alexandria Community Center.

You were sitting around a large round table, and the topic was how to make the Alexandria neighborhood safer because Saviours often prowled around the area

Carl didn't say much - he never did - he just listened, both hands wrapped around a coffee cup. Once you started, you couldn't stop looking at his hands. They were big for such a slender boy, but graceful - with long, slender fingers and clearly visible knuckles. Really the hands of a piano player; only the chipped and somewhat dirty fingernails and the calluses, the rough skin and the small wounds didn't fit the picture, you mused. But Carl's hands were mostly busy working, killing walkers or cleaning weapons. There wasn't much time for hand and nail care.

"Y/N?" asked Maggie impatiently, and you noticed startled - apparently she hadn't addressed you for the first time.

"Um, what?" you asked dumbly, and Maggie rolled her eyes.

"I was wondering if you'd be willing to be assigned to regular patrols outside the wall?"

"Uh, yeah," you stammered, taking your eyes off Carl's hands with difficulty.

                                                           ***

In the following time you caught yourself again and again thinking about Carl in a juicy way. About him and his hands, especially his fingers. You imagined Carl pleasuring himself; how his long fingers closed around his hard shaft and moved up and down, squeezing lightly, how he rubbed his thumb over the wet tip, how he tossed his head back and forth on the pillow and moaned. Certainly Carl did it every day; at least that was true of most boys his age. You had never had much contact, but now your thoughts were constantly circling around Carl.

When you masturbated yourself, you now fantasized exclusively about Carl; you dreamed of him sliding those fingers into your pussy and stroking your clit. You feared that people would see what you were thinking, so you started avoiding Carl. Whenever you ran into him, you would turn bright red, turn around, and walk away in the other direction. One day you were supposed to stand guard on the wall with Carl, but that was completely impossible, you couldn't talk to him or look him in the eye - he would read your dirty mind, you were sure of it. So you sought out Rick and asked him to let you switch shifts with someone.

Rick frowned at the schedule where the guard duties were listed. It was clear he wasn't thrilled with your request. "Now I'm going to have to reschedule everything," he groused. "Why do you want to change shifts?"

"Um, I, I... well, I don't like getting up early," you lied.

"The shift starts at 10 AM," Rick wondered. "But well, I guess you can switch with Glenn; you'll be on at 6 PM," he stated, scribbling on the list. Neither Rick, nor you had noticed Carl standing next to the doorway to the living room.

After leaving Rick's house, you went to the stables, you wanted to look at a newborn foal. The foal was lying in the straw, sleeping, protected by its mother. "Cute, isn't it?" a voice sounded behind you.

The foal woke up and roused itself. You flinched. "Carl!" you exclaimed. "Are you stalking me?" you then accused him.

"To be honest, yes," he answered hesitantly. "I overheard that you didn't want to be on guard duty with me. Besides, you're avoiding me like I have the plague. Have I done something to you?" he asked, half hurt, half provocative.

You glanced past him to his left hand, with which he was petting the foal. "No," you murmured. The sight made you all tingly.

"Then what is it?" demanded Carl angrily.

"Well...I can't talk about it," you evaded, your face glowing. You tried to walk past Carl out of the stable, but he held you by the shoulder.

"Wait," he said, amused. "Are you...are you maybe crushing on me?" He grinned.

"I don't know," you squirmed, licking your lips. Carl was suddenly very close to you, his breath warmly brushing your neck, then all of a sudden his lips lay softly on yours. You let yourself go into the kiss, of course you did. When you stopped the kiss a moment later, you whispered, "I can't stop thinking about your fingers."

Carl raised an eyebrow - the one, visible one. "My fingers?"

"Yes, they...they're extraordinary, beautiful, and I'd like you to...um..."

Carl chuckled. "Now I understand," he said, throwing you a cocky smile before kissing you again, letting his right hand wander to the buttons of your jeans, undoing them and fumbling forward into your panties. You went to your knees whimpering as he stroked you between your legs, wetting his fingers. You sank to the floor together, and you impatiently pushed your pants and panties down to your knees to give Carl free access. "You're completely wet for me," he noted with fascination.

"Carl, finger me, please," you moaned breathlessly, raising your hips with a yelp as Carl obeyed, sliding his index and middle finger into your willing pussy and gently moving them back and forth with a smooth rhythm. "Oh, Carl, yes, please," you moaned, totally wanting and at his mercy. Your muscles clenched around his fingers, craving more and more of him. He bent down and kissed you passionately as he continued to fuck you with his fingers. You clung to Carl's shoulders as he pushed you over the edge and the world exploded around you in stars and rainbow colors. "Carl!!!" you panted, clawing at him. One of the horses shied away at your outcry.

Breathing heavily, you relaxed as Carl slowly pulled his fingers out of you. They were all slippery from your juices. Your heart raced. Carl pressed himself against you longingly. "You could do something for me now," he pleaded, and you could see the bulge in his jeans. He rubbed over it meaningfully.

"Jerk yourself off," you suggested. "I want to see that."

Carl grinned suggestively. "Someday, maybe, but right now I want you to jerk me off. It's only fair, don't you think?" he pouted.

He wasn't wrong, though. "All right," you agreed. You still had a little time before you had to show up for your work at the doctor's office. Eagerly, Carl opened his belt and his jeans and pulled out his fully erected dick, and you noted that it was really big and just as pretty as Carl's hands, and inhaled sharply. However, it turned out that Carl was so aroused from your previous activities that he cum all over your hand just as soon as you touched him.

"Oh," he commented lamely. "Sorry, baby."

You had to snicker. "I think we should do this more often."

--

Tags: @loveforcarl @tessasweet @knochentrocken0808 @taylormarieee

[joaniscruzing]

sailor song - part 1 - e.w.

I am so glad to be writing a series again you guys! Heads up though, I am in school now, so I do need to focus on my studies, which means I can't crank out chapters once a day like I used to!

Y'all. I love Jackson Ellie. I legit have a Halloween costume of this on standby.

Summary: Mostly exposition, reader meets Ellie after a lot of staring from afar.

Warnings: Talks of religion

A/N: I'm trying to set this on after the events of TLOU II. In my head, I always feel like Ellie went back to Jackson and tried to start over and forget everything. I feel like she'd try to better herself, especially after literally losing everything. Also, let me know if you'd like to be tagged in the next chapter.

⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰

In Jackson, you normally went on about your day. You would wake up, pray, have the occasional outing, go on patrol, and then go back to your abode, where you would sleep. You always noticed Ellie though. Her presence, full of light, darkening as time passed, always penetrated your carelessness towards any outside happenings–or people.

You liked how Ellie carried herself, confident, and taking no shit from nobody. However, you also knew of Ellie’s sexuality, which, in your books, was a sin. While you would typically disregard sinners, there was just something about Ellie that drew you in. You didn’t know if it was the two pools of green mystery that were her eyes, or her low, but enchanting voice. Sometimes you would look from afar, watching her laugh as she smoked her joint and coughed, wondering if you and her would ever cross paths in the future. You presumed that she was too cool for you, too rebellious. In fact, you thought that in a normal world, she’d be a celebrity, as famous as Anne Hathaway, an actress from a movie you had loved watching during the movie nights in Jackson as a little kid, The Princess Diaries.

You didn’t know why you were religious, you supposed that it was a way for you to make some sense of the situation around you. After all, you could sum up this apocalypse as just part of God’s plan; and you wouldn’t have to overthink about the issues that came from it and the harshness of the situation. That aside, you wore the cross necklace you found one day while exploring some abandoned building out of boredom proudly and constantly. You read your bible every night, in hopes that maybe it would help you understand your circumstances, and in hopes that there would be a heaven for you to go to in the future.

One day though, after a rather sleepless night, you found yourself heading into town for coffee, looking rather disheveled. You were so tired, in fact, that you didn’t realize that your coffee was sloshing all around in its cup, and getting all over you.

“Hey!” Ellie called, running behind you.

“Huh?” you replied wearily, snapping out of it immediately when you realized who it was. Crap. It’s Ellie Williams.

“Hey, uh, you seem like you shouldn’t be running back to your house with burning hot coffee. Why don’t you come over here for a bit and drink it?”

“Oh, I didn’t realize that the coffee had gotten all over me. Please excuse my appearance,” you reply embarrassedly, “I’m fine though, thank you for the offer.”

“Then I’ll go with you to your house then.”

“Okay, didn’t realize you’re into stalking.”

“I’m into a lot more than just stalking” 

Your cheeks burn like hot coals. “I suppose I can drink some coffee with you.”

“Alright then. Should we go back to your house?”

“No, no, we can drink some coffee at that table over there.”

“Are you hiding something?” You look her in the eyes. You sense a twinge of skeptical energy coming from her, which, per the rumors you heard, was never a good sign.

“No! My house just isn’t clean right now.”

With that, you and Ellie sit down and you drink your coffee.

“Do you want me to get you some?”

“Oh fuck no, I’ve always hated coffee.”

[teabutmakeitazure]

Pinprick in the Backdrop (blurb)

>Yan! Chrollo x Fem! Reader

>Word count: 2k (exactly)

>a/n: this was a heat of the moment writing

Oneshot

You are surprisingly awake considering that you only had 3 hours of sleep in the last 2 days. It’s probably the caffeine but you would rather not admit it. Especially not when you woke up to Chrollo reading beside you in bed after you had flat out refused to share a bed with him. You haven’t slept since.

Despite all that, the exhaustion and deliriousness shows in your movements and conversation. Had you been cheated out of those 3 hours of sleep as well, you would probably have started hallucinating. Regardless, bitterness has been a loyal companion to your words ever since you left home. You suppose the companionship is justified, for when you are snatched away from your home and threatened with heinous things in sugar coated words, that is the only thing you can use to retaliate with.

The marble of the kitchen counter digs into your spine as you lean against it. It’s a dirty shade of dark grey granite that you don’t particularly like, and it also reminds you of Chrollo’s eyes. Other than that, the open kitchen facing the living room reminds you of your apartment. It’s a sad reminder but omnipresent and ever annoying.

Your lovely… partner (because you still can’t bring yourself to verbally give him any proper relation to you) is almost back and you are certain he will be in a good mood. He’s been in a good mood a lot lately. It almost seems suspicious. Chrollo is usually happy when he’s planning something with a very high success rate. Having the suspicion that he is up to something without having any means to find anything further is not fun.

Whatever. You open the door as usual when he knocks the way he showed you, and immediately turn on your heel, all patience gone due to your tired state. Chrollo follows behind you, hair down (something he does in front of you a lot after you compared his hair to the receding hairline that Dory’s father has) and hands inside the pockets of his fur lined jacket. The sofa is where you decide to settle with a book in hand (it’s Kant of all possibilities), clearly wordlessly screaming to be left alone only to have Chrollo settle right next to you.

A few moments of silence pass before Chrollo clears his throat. It fails to gather your attention so he does what he does to get you hissing at him. It works instantly and is 100% effective - so far anyway - in grabbing your attention and focus. Thus, with one smooth motion, he slides up to you, thighs colliding gently. It’s like you got an electric shock, the way you jumped and squealed. You immediately shift to the other end of the sofa, book thrown onto the space between you both, and glare daggers.

“Now that I have your attention,” Chrollo says, elbows resting on his knees, “there’s something we need to discuss.” A comment is already on the tip of your tongue, and you halfway open your mouth to let it out but Chrollo cuts you off. “We need to speak about sleeping arrangements.”

You give him a look that says ‘I would rather not’ but humour him anyway. “There’s no need. I get the bed, and you take the sofa. Like we agreed before.”

“Yes, but you aren’t sleeping.”

“I’ll take the sofa if you want the bed that much.”

“That isn’t the issue.” Chrollo sighs, a sight so rare you had to rub your eyes. “It’s your sleep. Darling, if you don’t sleep, you’ll start hallucinating.”

“I think I already am.” You give him another look with a brow raised. “Did you just sigh?”

He mirrors your expression. “I did.”

“Oh my God. I can’t believe my eyes.”

Confusion grows on his face, but Chrollo instantly pushes it aside. “It’s almost sunset. You should go to bed as soon as it gets dark. You can lock the room if you like. As long as you sleep that is.”

Your other eyebrow raises as well. The devil himself negotiating with you? That too with good intentions? How rare. There must be a catch somewhere. “I’m sure a measly door lock won’t ever stop you,” you accuse. Though your words are often honeyed, the bite they have is always delivered.

Chrollo tilts his head, doing that thing he always does when you are being unreasonable. He tilts his head and gives you a smile before reassuring you that he won’t do any such thing. The promise he makes of not ‘pouncing on you’ or anything similar does little to satisfy, yet you agree. If he is offering something sincerely, you would be a fool to refuse it.

-

It’s been four hours in bed.

You still can’t sleep.

If the heaviness behind your eyes is anything to go by, your body is extremely exhausted. Even with so much exhaustion, your body refuses to succumb to sleep. It’s probably due to the presence of your ‘favourite’ person. Not even the door and walls are able to minimise his aura.

You can quite literally feel his existence. It’s agonising. Although the curtains are drawn and it’s completely dark, it still does not help in the slightest. A reminder of Chrollo’s promise comes to mind, and you huff out of annoyance. Who does he think he is anyway? Him and his tacky jacket with an upside-down cross. Sure, he’s some sort of bigshot criminal, but he likes philosophy. Philosophy. The only thing about him that stands out is his perspective.

Another huff, and you turn to the other side. If he thinks he can scare you with his mere presence and take away the peace in your life, he’s wrong. And you’ll prove him wrong by going to sleep! Before that…

You wiggle out a hand from under the covers and tap the empty space of the king sized bed just to be sure as your eyes adjust to little lighting in the room. The only source is the street lights outside behind the curtains, so it doesn’t surprise you when it takes a few minutes. Upon discovering no warm human body with you in bed, you retract your hand and snuggle in. However, a familiar silhouette in the darkness causes you to rise abruptly.

“Mama?!” Eyes widened, you lean towards it, hoping to confirm your suspicions. Though you are now squinting and almost able to make out the figure, disappointment accompanies the revelation of the silhouette’s identity.

Phone’s flashlight now turned on, you are face to face with none other than the man who promised not to enter the room. “I’m sorry to disappoint you. Believe me, if I could, I’d turn into your mother only so that I wouldn’t have to see you so disappointed.”

An offended gasp escapes your mouth, and you huff for a third time before going back under the blanket. Bitter betrayal is all you can feel with only a hint of embarrassment (because why should you be embarrassed? he is the one who snuck into the room. how did he do that anyway?)

The mattress dips under Chrollo’s weight, and the curtains are promptly drawn to let light in. You immediately scoot to the farthest edge of the bed, only to be followed by Chrollo. Out of pure spite, you try rolling again yet fail as you take a fall to the floor. However, not even such a thing can deter you as you cross your arms, turn your back to the bed and remain lying on the floor.

There is nothing in this world that holds the power to stop you from being petty. Nothing. If he won’t respect your wishes, then he can have a try at sleeping on the floor with you.

You can hear the springs of the mattress, probably from him moving, and then footsteps. They sound like they’re coming from the other side of the bed and- is he coming your way? Why is he standing near you? You can hear a chuckle before you see him lie down on the floor right next to you, facing you with a smile. That bastard…

You huff for a fourth time before standing up. One knee on the mattress, you manoeuvre yourself to quickly go back under the covers and starfish before Chrollo makes his move. Smug victory makes you smile but the expression is quickly wiped off your face because the fiend has settled on the gap between your right arm and leg.

Another try it is then. This time, you curl into a ball, taking the entire banket with you, and settle on the corner of the bed. The attempt also proves to be feeble because he sits right next to you and rests his head where your shoulder is.

Now you have had enough. With the blanket wrapped around you, you simply get up and head for the bedroom door only to find Chrollo already standing there. How this demon incarnate can move so quickly, you will never understand. Thus, after your betrayed gasp, you make a beeline for the bathroom and lock the door before he can put his foot in the gap like last time. You are successful in this, and you celebrate by calling him an idiot in your head.

But what now? You’re inside the bathroom with a huge blanket wrapped around you. This is no place for a night’s rest, but you also don’t want to go out there where he is probably waiting for you. Goodness, you can already see the smug smile on his face as you come crawling back. Fine then. You’ll stay here until you feel sleepy.

And you do. You pace back and forth in the little space you have, huffing at your situation for the umpteenth time as you curse out Chrollo and the woman who birthed such an imp. Minutes blur as you continue back and forth and every single profanity you know has been uttered  at least thrice. When your legs deflect the curses back at you tenfold, you end up standing in front of the bathroom door with your ear pressed to the wood to listen to any sign of life in the bedroom.

When you feel somewhat sure of the room’s emptiness, you quietly unlock the door. After several seconds of waiting, you open the door just a crack, and when no one has yanked it open in your face, you open it yourself. The hinges creak a little, making you cringe at the noise, but the lack of human presence in the room and the closed door gives you comfort.

You immediately head for the bed, its tempting call beckoning you over. However, you are halfway there when a voice whispers right into your ear. You jump immediately, heart hammering inside your chest and a scream erupting from your throat out of surprise. A shadow stands as you turn to look behind you, no aura and no detected presence. Adjustment of your eyes to the light reveals Chrollo, a hand on his mouth in what you assume is a stifled laugh.

Disbelief and anger make themselves known, and you are quick to curse him out to his face. He, on the other hand, promptly composes himself. It is when your little fit of anger is over that he strikes. A hand reaches for your face, and although you flinch, you do not fight back. Chrollo’s palm cups your cheek as his thumb rubs the skin under your eyes and he smiles at you like he’s admiring a piece of gold jewellery he just polished.

“Get some sleep,” he says. “Your steps are becoming disoriented. I won’t bother you again.” The hand on your face retreats, and the door to the bedroom closes. As you stand in the middle of the room, the blanket still wrapped around you, you think over one question. How could he have noticed such a thing in such a dark room?

[caplanbuckybarnes]

CheaterCheaterBestFriendEater

Summary: After you'd gotten drunk with Tony one night when Steve was away on a mission, you never expected to be heartbroken I the morning.

Warnings: cheating, an abortion (not descriptive, just a brief mention of one), cheater!reader, pisse!steve (honestly, he should have been way more raged lol)

Word Count: 879

@saiilorstars sent in a GIF for a drabble. I'm going to do the Bucky one as well. Sorry, it's late, LOL.

Read on Ao3!

---

You knew from the look in his eyes that he was pissed. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to see that. You’d accidentally sent a text message to him that was meant entirely for someone else. Which, in retrospect, shouldn’t have been a problem. Expect that the text message revealed that you were pregnant.

And it couldn’t have been Steve’s. 

He had been on a mission with the Avengers and Guardians, tracking down half-devoured worlds to help restore them. He had been gone for over two months when you texted him this revealing information.

You felt lonely. You felt depressed. You were alone in the compound with Tony and Bucky. All it took was one lonely and drunk night to find yourself waltzing into Tony’s room first and seducing him, to promise that you wouldn’t tell a soul about your little escapades that night. But little had you known of the consequences. You could have sworn you took your birth control pill that morning. 

But as you looked at the tablet, the day’s previous one was still sealed shut. You waited several days before texting Tony while he ran errands with Bucky before letting him know. But of course, you had clicked on Steve’s pinned message on your phone without thinking before typing the message:

How the fuck am I supposed to fucking tell Steve, who is my goddamn BOYFRIEND, that I slept with one of his best friends and got pregnant? What the actual fuck, Tony?

It was with horror that you realised you’d sent the message to the wrong pinned message. You knew Steve would be arriving home shortly, so you’d been waiting for him on the house porch the four of you shared for bonding.

As he approached you, you stood up, swallowing the vomit that wanted to splatter all over the ground in front of you. “Do you have something you need to get off your chest, Y/N?”

“I’m glad to see you back, Steve,” you smiled at him shyly, not knowing what he was thinking. You always hated it when he was angered. He almost almost shut down his emotions when he was enraged. 

“Is Tony here? Bucky?” He asked, looking past you into the open door, down the house's hallway.

“They’re out getting dinner for all of us,” you swallowed the vomit down once again. You wished he’d just \look\ at you, for fuck’s sake. “Steve, I-”

“Save it,” he demanded, staring at you with pure disgust. “I’ll talk with Tony and see what he says, and I swear to god, if this was a mutual event, you’re not going to like the person I become.” Before you could say a single word in reply, he stormed past you, almost knocking into your shoulder as he leapt up the stairs in one motion.

--

Later that night, you stayed in the bed you shared with Steve, glancing at his empty side every few seconds. He and Tony had gone on a car ride hours earlier, leaving you and Bucky alone in the house. You knew you had fucked up. You knew you were in the wrong. You only hoped that Steve wouldn’t hurt Tony in the process.

Unable to sleep, even hours later, you finally decided to leave the bed and roam into the kitchen downstairs, only to find Tony sitting at the table with an empty beer bottle cradled in between his clasped hands.

“Tony?” you spoke, causing him to lift his head and stare at you. “Where’s Steve?”

“Out in the back chopping wood, I think,” he answered, surprisingly sober. “I told him you promised me you’d abort the damn thing. It was the only way to save both of our asses. It was a drunken mistake, and it never should have happened.” 

“Tony-”

“I’m calling T’challa in the morning to see about transporting you to Wakanda for a few days. Steve had the idea, not me, so don’t yell at me over it. I suggest you go pack about a week’s worth of clothes.”

“It’s the middle of the night, Tony,” you made to go to the back door before Tony stood up to block your way. “He needs sleep, Tony, and so do you and me. I can’t let him keep doing this.”

“Why not?” he replied. "We need the wood for the fireplace anyway. He didn’t kill me, so I think we’re both winning in this situation. Now go pack. I'll have Bucky drive you to the airport in the morning. Shuri will be picking you up from there."

There was no use in arguing with the man. Upstairs, you went to grab a large bag from your closet before going into the closet again and grabbing several outfits for the time you'll be staying in Wakanda.

--

You stayed in Wakanda for almost two months before Steve finally reached out to you with apologies and a desire to return home. He'd said he was deeply upset at your mistrust and still loved you. All you wanted was to be wrapped up in his arms again.

Another few days passed before you were woken up from your sleep to see Steve standing before your bed, holding a bouquet of your favourite flowers.

"It's time to go home, Y/N."

[rotyoursoul]

The Zoldyck’s hire an in-home therapist as Illumi’s wife isn’t having an easy time adjusting to her new lifestyle. Supposedly, she’s allowed to open up as much as she desires. Let’s see where this journey goes.

TW: Yandere themes / (18+ Minors DNI)

————————————

“What brings you both here today?”

“Please help me…” You croak to your only savior who’s seated just a coffee table across from you.

“Y/N.” Illumi warns placing a threatening hand laced with false adornment ontop of yours. His dead eyes move from the side of your face back to the therapists “My wife has been having a hard time adjusting to her new home.”

“Why do you think that is Y/N?”

Your mind quickly weaves from thought to thought, finally deducing that being truthful couldn’t get you in any worse of a situation than you already are.

“I just feel…. trapped.”

“You’ve been granted free reign of the entire estate.” Illumi flatly reminds.

“Mr. Zoldyck please allow your wife to finish her thought.”

“Alright.” They both look at you expectantly. You decide to try and ignore your husbands unblinking gaze and focus on the professional before you.

“I want to go beyond the estate. I miss the mall, flower shops, the market, other people….” You sigh “But Illumi believes I’ll try to escape while I’m out which makes absolutely no sense. Even if I did he’d be able to find me. I’d never really be free.”

She nods at you then turns her attention to your husband

“Illumi do you trust your wife’s word after hearing her thoughts?”

“No.” He sounds bored having already calculated these options long ago. “And as she’s stated, I’d quickly find her. Disciplinary action would ensue. Sleep deprivation, mild starvation, perhaps a needle etc….It’s just bothersome. I have missions to attend.”

Your mouth fell open. How could he admit that so easily?? Surely this went against some health workers code of ethics. The Zoldyck’s had to have been paying her SO well, that his confession didn’t matter.

The therapists expression remained solemn

“Mr. Zoldyck is it safe to say that you’re possessive over the ones you care about?”

“I suppose.”

“You care about me?!” You scoff

“Has that not been made clear?” Illumi questions earnestly

“Mrs. Zoldyck please consider the fact that he’s the one who requested I come here.”

“Oh God, you’re on his side!!” Tears begin to make themselves known as you slump down into the couch and lower into your sorrows.

“I’m not on one side or the other. I am simply here to unite you two.”

A moment of silence falls over the room. After a while, you shake your head in disbelief.

“Whatever just- how many more minutes do we have left?”

—————————————-

A/N: HEY! This is my first time writing for Illumi and publishing so I’m not sure if I captured him correctly. Please let me know! There’s a lot of places this story can go as well. Feel free to give me suggestions. Thank you for reading 🖤