#good thing nothing bad will ever happen to them and no one will get hurt! :3

[bitchy-craft]

PICK A CARD: What you need to work on (it can hurt a little)

Hello and welcome to this new reading! I will tell you what you need to work on. I hope you all enjoy it!

Masterpost > Paid Readings > Patreon Masterlist

The extended version of this reading can be found on my patreon, the link of which is here

                     pick a card

Pile 1:

You need to find balance in your emotions, you need to know and figure out what is good for you, and what you want. And the moment you do know, make sure you do it, even if it hurts, even if you are scared of the outcome. You need to get a hold of your true wishes, your true beliefs and thoughts, and take the control you wish to have. Leave those insecurities, and those fears behind, get through them, and think about your true wish, even if it hurts.

It’s hard to look back at what you’ve been through, the happy moments, the sad and conflicting moments. It’s hard to realise that these good things must come to an end, and hurt is okay to have, you are allowed to feel and acknowledge that hurt, you need to accept it be able to work on it and grow through it.

Extended reading

Pile 2:

Be happy with the little things. You can’t be happy with little progress, because the greater goal hasn’t been accomplished. I wouldn’t be surprised if you sometimes have progress but it still makes you frustrated because it wasn’t the full thing that you wished for.

Learn to realise that little progress can and must be celebrated too, you’re allowed to be proud of yourself for the little things, even if you get disappointed by it. You need to learn to leave those disappointed thoughts behind, accept them and move on. You can be happy and relieved while being disappointed that you didn’t fully succeed. But those little things, those little things are worth celebrating, they can help you gain more confidence and believe as long as you let them, they can make you stronger.

Extended reading

Pile 3:

Don’t just sit around and do nothing while waiting for the luck of the draw. If you want to accomplish something, then go do it. The universe won’t bend for you, you must bend the universe yourself. Don’t think your success will come from nowhere, don’t think the journey to this success will be easy without any obstacles. Every journey has obstacles, and every journey has moments where you want to quit and not continue.

If you want something, go do it. Just because something small happened that you didn’t want to happen, which made you disappointed, it doesn’t mean you should give up. Do not give up and believe the whole universe is against you. Of course, not a single journey is the same, but that doesn’t mean your journey should come easy to you, nor does it mean it should come hard to you. Every journey also teaches you something, and maybe for you, this journey wants to teach you that you must work hard and continue even though certain moments suck.

Extended reading

Pile 4:

You are not better than anyone else, so please stop trying to act like you are. Even if you are not aware of the fact that you act like that, you do. Please watch your words because a lot of things happening around you are just a roll of the dice. If something good happens you’re lucky, and if something bad happens it was just something that would happen one way or another.

Being confident in your knowledge is good, but don’t make yourself believe you know so much, because you don’t. Don’t put your insecurities so far away that your way of coping becomes a burden for others. You can be insecure yet have knowledge, you don’t need to be over-confident with it. And even if you are not confident, don’t try to mask it off. You need to learn how to balance these things. You do not know how much you don’t know, and as you grow older and experience more and more you will realise that you will never know a lot; because there is too much out there to know for your knowledge to be ever considered a lot.

Extended reading

Pile 5:

Go for it, don’t wait around and be scared, do it. It is good that you think about possible dangers and the wish to do it correctly, but over-thinking is also something that exists, and it’s not good. Don’t sit and imagine everything, being able to control everything, if you want it to happen you must do it. Get a grasp of that wish, stand in confidence and become the person you’ve always wanted to become, do the thing you’ve always wanted.

You are insecure, and being insecure is okay, but just because you are insecure it doesn’t mean everything and everyone should handle you with care. Everyone should be treated the same, which includes you. Do you want to do this? Well, it’s a tough world, get ready for it. Don’t be scared and wait around doing nothing, do it or don’t, in the end, you’ll know what you want.

Extended reading

[ass-fuehrerin]

In[action]

Whether it was a carefully calculated manipulation or pure improvisation in the heat of the moment,

[swaying Gi-hun’s empathy through a real story about his wife was both one of the most brilliant and one of the most terrifying things In-ho ever did or could do to Seong.]

He essentially hung up a Chekhov’s gun — one that would fire straight at Gi-hun the moment the Frontman’s identity might inevitably came to light.

The only question is — how exactly will it wound him?

Hurt Gi-hun, enrage him, throw him into agony — those aren’t the outcomes I fear. They’re the ones I expect. The ones I hope for. With bated breath, I wait and hope that Gi-hun will find the emotional and psychological strength to get enraged, to feel his heart breaking into pieces, and to keep fighting after his still-black-and-white world — where good and evil are relatively clear — shatters into gray. A world where the righteous and the damned, the honest and the deceitful, the heroes and the cowards, the "good" and the "bad" — all people — can evoke the same depth of sympathy. A world where "us" and "them" dissolve into “me” and “them”.

[It’s the same thing nature documentary filmmakers and hosts do to us.]

The poor rabbit, dashing through the snowy forest, fleeing from the fox, tugs at our hearts — right up until the camera shifts focus. And suddenly, we see her — starving, weak, having failed yet another hunt — dragging herself back to the den where her kits, hungry and waiting, now have nothing to eat because the rabbit got away.

The collapse of equally powerful sympathies for both sides creates confusion. A reckoning. But — most terrifying of all — it can lead to emotional burnout. Numbness. You stop rooting for the rabbit or the fox. For a lion or a zebra. For a killer whale or a seal. For a “manager” or a “player”. You become an observer. Like the filmmakers. Like the host. Intervention is pointless — because this is the natural order, the fundamental way of things, and nothing you do will change that. You don’t make the rules, but you don’t have to follow them either — you can step outside their reach and simply watch them play out.

[I’m not afraid of Gi-hun’s explosion. Of his actions. I’m afraid of his numbness.]

Of his inaction — being the only actual action he does. I’m not afraid that, under In-ho’s pressure, under threats to his or his daughter’s lives he might become the next Frontman — I’m afraid he might do it willingly by burning out, going silent, and stepping back. Fading into the shadows. Taking his place in the observation deck.

Because numbness isn’t just apathy. It’s surrender. It’s the quietest, most insidious way a system like this wins — not by forcing its victims into compliance, but by exhausting them into stepping aside. By making them convince themselves it’s futile, inevitable, or simply not their fight anymore — it’s the game they host and watch.

[Maybe it is what happened to In-ho?]

That might be the most tragic part of his story — not being forced into becoming the Frontman, butt choosing it. Maybe not all at once, but step by step, each time convincing himself that resistance was pointless or that survival demanded compromise.

At some point, In-ho must have faced the same breaking point Gi-hun is hurtling toward. He likely told himself, “I’m not the villain. I’m just doing what I have to do.” And then, over time, that self-justification hardened into something worse: acceptance. A point where he no longer needed to justify it at all. Where watching, enforcing, even orchestrating the suffering of others became second nature — because he had long since stopped feeling the weight of it. Because it is the natural order.

Because:

it’s like staring at a finished painting, created by others (and judging by his at-home collection of anthologies of artists works, In-ho clearly has a liking for it) — you didn’t choose the colors, didn’t sketch the outlines, didn’t decide what the final image would look like. You’re a mere observer not daring to smear the paint, disrupt the composition, refuse to be just another stroke in a predetermined masterpiece of cruelty.

If that’s the road — In-ho’s version of it — Gi-hun is at risk of walking, then his numbness wouldn’t just be dangerous — it would be fatal. It would be his first step toward becoming another man in front of those observers. In-ho knows the path Gi-hun is on. Because it once happened to him.

Maybe In-ho isn’t just testing Gi-hun — maybe he’s watching him in a way that’s almost... desperate. A way of asking,

[“What would it have looked like if I had chosen differently?”]

It is controversial, but for In-ho it still might be about witnessing a version of himself who still has a choice. Seeing if someone — anyone — can take the step he never did.

And if Gi-hun — at any stage of the game — makes a different move, not the one In-ho anticipated (I played these games before!1!!1), he would be forced to confront something he buried long ago: that he could have done the same. That he wasn’t as trapped as he convinced himself he was. That he became this way not because he had no other choice — but because he made the one.

And maybe that’s why In-ho plays this game with Gi-hun at all. Not just to manipulate him, not just to prepare him for the inevitable — but to finally, after all these years, see what should have been.

In the hope — just like us — that Gi-hun is this “what if”-version of himself.

[miniwheat77]

The One pt. 2 (Creepy Graves x Reader.)

!NSFW, smut, p in v sex, scumbag!graves, non con, dub con, NO MINORS!

Not edited please forgive me 😭

Phillip Graves, truth be told. Was a lot of things.

He was an asshole, a traitor. A scumbag really. He could be creepy.

But when he sets his mind to something, he does absolutely everything he can to get it. He’s a hard worker. He puts in one-hundred percent all the time. It’s what he does. He cares about his Shadows and he makes the effort when he needs to. It’s who he is, it’s what he does.

Phillip has a downside though. Not just the fact that he’s a total asshole, but he’s just as naive as you’ve been. Too trusting, that’s how he’s gotten hurt bad enough to become what he’s become.

General Shepherd took advantage of how loyal Phillip was. He used him to get what he wanted and Phillip really did believe that he was doing the right thing, until he wound up in the worst possible situation he could’ve ever thought of. All of those men that died carrying those missiles, all of the innocent people he killed under command of General Shepherd. Finding out that General had been using him all along.

Graves lies awake at night most nights. As a man, it’s never something he expected. To be taken advantage of. To be used.

So when he thinks about what he did to you, he feels weak. Powerless.

At the time, it felt good. Not hurting you but how he felt with you. It felt good. The look in your eyes when you left that night, of course it ate him alive. But he ignored it. Until now.

He felt as if he was just like General Shepherd. A freak. A monster who preys on innocent people. He knew he needed to find you and make everything right with you but it was a challenge. You were harder to find than he thought.

He approached Laswell about it, he didn’t expect her to help him since you were some random civilian but she needed his help too. A deal was made. That’s how he found out where you lived and where you worked. But he couldn’t just show up to your house or your job, because you wouldn’t react well to that and he’d feel like a creep. It had to be in passing. He followed you for a while, gathering your routine. He finds when you’ll be at a pharmacy or grocery store. He tracks your schedule to a T and that’s when his plan finally goes into effect. Phillip contacts the pharmacy he’d gone to for years and changes his prescriptions over to the same Pharmacy as you. His sleeping pills anyways.

He starts grocery shopping where you do. Learning the layout. He wanted to know exactly where everything was. It’s what he did.

He plans it just right and runs into you on a Friday night as you’re picking up your groceries and supplies for the weekend.

He didn’t expect to literally run into you, turning a corner too fast and slamming straight into you.

“Shit- Sorry!” He gasps. He helps you pick up your items, going to hand them to you. “It’s okay- it’s my faul-“ your eyes widen and you freeze when you see him. You swallow hard. “Shit. Y/N… Hey.” He breathes. “I.. I have to go.” You spin around. He catches your arm, stopping you. “Hey.. wait.” He breathes. You freeze, pulling your arm out of his grasp. “I have nothing to say to you, Phillip. Don’t touch me.” You breathe.

“Look.. about what happened a couple weeks ago.” He sighs. “I’m really sorry. I took everything too far and I should’ve never done it. It was the heat of the moment and I wasn’t thinking correctly…” he takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

You don’t trust him. Of course you don’t.

“Look. It’s whatever, alright? I’ll forgive you if you just leave me alone.” You mumble. “For good.” You turn away, surprised when he lets you leave this time.

But this is Phillip Graves we’re talking about. He doesn’t lose, nor does he give up.

He already knows what kind of car you drive and you let out a frustrated groan when you see him leaning against it in the parking lot. "What exactly is it you want?"

"Just give me a chance... It's all I ask." He breathes. "I already gave you one and you still messed it up."

He sighs. "Okay. Alright. I'm an idiot. Just... get in the car? Let me talk to you please?" He bites his lip. He wants you to feel bad for him but it's not working. You unlock the door and he gets inside the passenger seat. You sit down in the drivers seat. "Good. No one can hear us." He laughs.

He turns to you. "I.. I couldn't explain myself completely in there. Not with everyone around. See..." He trails off. "I know I came off as a creep before. It was totally wrong and I do regret that." He sighs. "As for me- cumming inside of you." You turn your face away from his. The way he talks about it so nonchalant has you flinching. "I got lost in you. Honestly. I am a deprived man and being inside of you just took over me. I couldn't help myself." He palms himself in your passenger seat and you hate that what he's doing is working. That ache starts back between your thighs. Images of his cock sliding between your legs fill your mind. You hate that he does this to you so easily. "Why do you this hm? Why do you take over my mind so easily?" You groan. "I've finally got you off of my mind and here you are again and I know that the moment I trust you again you'll fuck it all up by being the scumbag that you are."

He swallows hard. "You could ask anyone. I'm not usually so.. stupid when it comes to people. I don't know what it is about you. I just want to.. fuck you until you're crying. Cum in you over and over every single day until I know you're pregnant with my kids and I think these things about you when I've talked to you a collective four times. I don't know what it is."

"Jesus Phillip." You look down. "I know. I know that it's wrong." He groans. "But I know that I have to feel it again. You wrapped around me. It's all I can fucking think about." He bites his lip. Hissing as he adjusts himself. No shame in the fact that he's practically begging for your pussy.

"Is that what it will take for you to leave me alone?" You ask. He looks at you. "If I fuck you again, will you leave me alone?"

He shakes his head. "No.. probably not. You've got me in a chokehold baby. I'm going to keep coming back for more." He sighs. You shake your head. "Christ. What did I get myself into with you. I should have stayed the hell away from you."

"You probably should've. Put the car in gear and drive." He nods. You look him in the eyes. "What?"

"Don't make me do it doll. Just listen okay?"

Do what? What does he mean?

"We both know I'm not above making you, so just put the car in gear and drive."

You swallow hard. Shaking your head. "Why me?" You look at him. "Because. I think you're the one." he laughs. "And I'm a stubborn guy. So... I'm going to keep coming back. Until you want me anyways." He mumbles. You smile. The first time you'd smiled at him in a long time. It strikes him right to his core. "You have a weird love language, Phillip Graves." Your smile makes his heart ache. "I know I do. I know..." He trails off. "And you've got the most stunning smile I've ever seen. I want to see it every day." His cheeks go pink.

You laugh. "If you'd just be normal you might see it more often." You can't help the snort that leaves you. "I can't help myself around you. I don't know what it is. When I'm in your presence I just lose every bit of reason I have. It's ridiculous." He groans.

"Where do you want me to drive?" You look at him. "My house." He nods. It's dark and your friend should be in bed by now, she didn't need to see you with him. Knowing how big of a creep he could be.

You still hadn't told her about how he'd tricked you to his house and took your virginity. She didn't know you were a virgin so you'll probably just keep that one to yourself. You already looked stupid enough.

You don't know why you keep coming back for more with him. Not really. Maybe it's to pass the time. Or maybe the way he intimidates you in the most perfect way. You hate that he's so persuasive.

“What exactly is it you want with me?” You turn to look at him. “Clearly you don’t want a relationship, so what is it?”

He turns to look at you, confused. “Who said I didn’t want a relationship?”

You raise your eyebrows. “Not sure, maybe your actions?” You laugh.

He shakes his head. “I’m bad at this, alright? But that doesn’t mean that I don’t want a relationship with you.”

You hadn’t thought about it. Being in a relationship with him. Maybe you should’ve before you served yourself up on a silver platter for him.

It’s frustrating, the games.

“You can’t make me be in a relationship with you. You can’t MAKE me do anything.” You turn to look at him as you pull into his driveway. “Remember that. Next time you think you can.”

He nods his head. “I have given you more chances than you deserve already, Phillip.”

“I know you have.”

You sigh, glancing to the house next door.

It would be pretty cool to be her neighbor.

“So don’t fuck this up anymore.” You look at him. “Swear on it.” He breathes. “You can pull into my garage if you want.”

“Okay. Wait.. did you leave your car at the grocery store?”

He shakes his head. “Had a coworker drop me off after work. We carpool together sometimes.”

“Oh okay.”

You follow him into his house, taking it upon yourself to sit on his couch. You tug something out of your pocket, focusing all of your attention on it for a second.

“What is it?” He asks.

You look up at him, unsure of what he means. “Oh.. it’s uhhh. Lottery scratch off.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you liked those.” He laughs. “Really? I figured you would’ve since you’ve been following me around for the last week.” You don’t take your eyes away from it, scratching at the paper with a quarter. He’s frozen.

“I know you think I’m naive, Phillip. But I’m really not.”

He laughs, moving to sit down next to you. “I don’t think you’re naive. I guess I just thought I was more sneaky than that.”

“I’m an observer, most people wouldn’t have noticed.”

“An observer?” He presses.

“I.. watch things. My surroundings. Sex trafficking is at all time high you know.”

“Nothing.” You groan. Shoving it back into your pocket.

He smiles. “You’re really cute you know that?” He laughs. “Thanks.” You mumble.

“Why’d you only buy one?” He asks. “They’re only a dollar.”

You smile. “Bold of you to assume I make enough money house sitting and babysitting to afford more than one.” You laugh. He smiles. “You actually do babysit?”

You nod your head. “Mhm. Yeah. I babysit for a couple different family’s currently. Early mornings usually.”

“How old are the kids?” He asks. “Uhhh. Newborn to.. 3 or 4.”

Phillips mind travels to you holding a baby. You’d make such a pretty mom.

It makes him want to put you into a mating press.

He looks down. “I think you’ll make a great mom.”

“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me so far, Phillip.” You laugh.

“I’m gonna go get changed, you need something to sleep in?”

“Yeah, but uh.” You turn to look at him as he stands up, he pauses and looks back at you since you’ve got something to say. “Maybe you should wait.”

“Hm? Why?”

You shrug. “Just think your gear is kind’ve hot. That’s all.” You smirk up at him.

Seeing him smile, raising his eyebrows. “Oh?”

“Mhm.”

“You have one of those nicknames?” You ask.

“A callsign?” He asks. Sitting back down next to you. Closer than before. “Yeah! That.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“What is it?” You ask. Seeing him smile. “You’re a curious girl.”

You raise your hands in surrender. “My bad. If I’m pressing too much just tell me to back off.”

He laughs. “It’s Shadow 0-1”

You raise your eyebrows. “Shit. That’s intimidating.” You laugh. “Kind’ve hot too.”

“You keep saying that. But.. you’re not doing anything about it.”

He’s turned on. You can tell by how serious he’s gotten. “I’m seeing how much you’ll let me get away with. Before you do something about it.” You smile. “You’re very forgiving too.” He places a hand on your thigh, seeing you stiffen up.

“Maybe I’m just bored.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Is it that? Or do you just miss the way it felt when I put my cock in you for the first time?”

He sees your facade faltering. A smile forming on your face to accompany your rosy cheeks.

“Fuck! Damn you’re good.” You laugh. Breaking first.

“I know, it’s what I do.” He laughs.

“Ya gonna let me kiss you or what?” He smirks. “Just do it.” You roll your eyes.

“Sit in my lap.” He tilts his head, smirk on his lips. He’s got one hand on the back of the couch, sliding his hips to the edge of the couch. Sliding a hand under your thigh. You’ve got leggings on, so it’s not uncomfortable, moving to climb into his lap. Straddling him.

He rests his hands on your hips. “You thought about it?” He asks.

“What?”

“About being in a relationship with me.” He nods.

You chew at your lip. “I wasn’t really thinking about it just yet, no.”

“You don’t have to, course not.” He laughs. “But I’ll take good care of you, you know?” He pulls you into him, the zipper of his cargo pants pressing into you. You wiggle slightly.

He reaches up, grasping the zipper of the jacket you had on and unzipping it. Seeing that you’ve only got a bra on underneath it.

“Shit.” He trails off.

“What do you say?” He asks again.

“I’ll be your girlfriend. But.. nothing weird alright? If I find out you creep on other girls the way you did with me, I’ll make you pay.”

He smiles. You’re not threatening but he doesn’t want to find out what you mean by it.

Besides, Phillip only seemed to be a creep for you.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, baby. I’m a very loyal man. Too loyal sometimes.” He laughs. “What?”

“It’s a story for another time.”

You start to back off.

“I’ve done things. Things I’m not proud of. Being too loyal to someone above me.”

You nod your head. “We all make mistakes Phillip.”

You’re starting to crack the code with him.

He’s more naive than you thought.

“Yeah. But a lot of innocent people died. By my hands.”

You swallow hard. He doesn’t miss it.

“Seems as if you had no choice, you were listening to a superior, no?”

He nods his head. “Yeah, but I shouldn’t have.”

“How were you to know?”

“You’ve a good point baby.”

Phillip was clearly a dangerous man. He made that very apparent by his demeanor.

You lean into him, hand sliding up onto his neck. He grips your hips, guiding you into him. Your lips press against his and he hugs you tight to him. Deepening the kiss.

It’s not exactly how he thought it’d happen again. He imagined he’d have you up in his bed, being gentle. An apology, more or less. But instead you’re desperately shoving your leggings down your legs, reach in for his waistband.

He doesn’t take his pants all of the way off, just unbuttons them and unzips them. Tugging them down past his cock.

He pumps himself slightly, you rest your arms on his shoulders, lifting yourself up onto him. You look him in the eyes, he holds himself still so that you can slide down onto him.

“Oh fuck..” he draws it out. Moaning out. He closes his eyes, resting his head against the back of the couch. You raise yourself up and slide back down onto him, taking in a sharp breath. You seem a little off this time, like it’s too much. You’re panting as you move and you’ve barely started.

“You alright?” He asks. You nod your head. “Y-yeah. It’s just a lot more intense this time.” You breathe.

“You’ve had time to heal. It should feel better.”

You nod your head, chest raising and falling with your harsh breaths. “I-it really does.” You bite your lip, finally looking up from his chest. His eyes meet yours. He stands up with you, taking you off guard. “Woah!” You gasp, clutching onto him. “Don’t drop me!” You panic.

He laughs, walking up the stairs to his bedroom. “There is no way in hell I’d drop you.”

He lays you down in his bed, moving himself over the top of you. He starts removing his gear, hips still flush with yours as he pauses. All that’s left are his jeans but he doesn’t want to pull away from you to take them off. He tries not to be too rough with you, but he just can’t help himself. “You look so good under me.” He breathes. Gritting his teeth as he thrusts into you. His bed hammers into the wall with each brutal thrust he takes but he doesn’t care.

He wants to thank you for giving him another chance, but he knows now isn’t the time. “You alright?” He asks. You nod your head. Giving him a small smile. “You keep asking that.” You giggle.

“Wanna make sure you’re okay baby. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me, Phillip.”

He clenches his eyes shut. You’re too nice.

He pushes your thighs up slightly. Not going for a mating press just yet, he doesn’t want to scare you. Something close. He slides deeper, feeling you tense up. You take in another sharp breath, unsteady moans falling from your lips. You clutch at his bed sheets and he enjoys watching you fall apart beneath him. He’s waited weeks for this to happen again. For a while he was unsure if it would even happen again at all.

You’re the only girl he wants in his bed. Forever.

He can feel that knot forming, getting tighter each time he buries himself into you.

“I-I’m close Phillip.” You whine. “That’s my good girl.” He breathes, lowering his head to kiss along your neck. “Cum for me.”

It doesn’t take much more for you to do just that. Hips bucking into his slightly as you finish, clamping tight around him. He rides your high out, but he’s getting close himself.

He’s right there, about to draw his hips back out of respect for you.

You wrap your legs around him, holding him still. His eyes widen. “W-what are you doing?” You say nothing, he tries to pull back again. “Y/N! Stop it I’m about t-“ he closes his eyes, baring his teeth as he reaches his orgasm. When he realizes what you’ve just done, they snap open again.

“Did you just-“

“I did.”

“I was trying to be respectful-“

“And I was getting even.”

He laughs, taken off guard by you. “You really are my kind of girl.” He laughs.

———

“Hey.” He smiles. You’re standing at his door, having just finished babysitting. “Hey.” You smile.

“I got something for you.”

He steps to the side and you walk into his house. “What is it?”

He passes you a handful of one dollar scratch offs. “Phillip!” You gasp, looking up at him. “There’s like twenty of them!”

“Twenty five to be exact. I have another twenty five if you wanna work for em.” He winks. “Why did you get so many?”

“Cause I know that you like them. And I want to see you smile.”

You laugh. “You’re something else.”

“If you really think fifty dollars is all I’m willing to spend on you, you’re mistaken. You’re worth more than that to me.” He smiles, crossing his arms.

“It is too much.” He shakes his head. “No. It’s not. That’s why I was thinking, you should just move in with me. Let me take care of you.” He smiles.

You roll your eyes. “I will consider moving in with you, but I’m not quitting my jobs.” He nods his head.

“Sounds good to me, princess.”

[divatheeva]

A piece I did for @ingo-ingoing-ingone for his very cool fic (that I still need to read but I’m scared to because of angst) Always By Your Side!! Might need to tap the photo to see it in better quality, thank u for that Tumblr xoxo

Ingo and Emmet are hangin out at the park and see a Pokémon that reminds them of themselves! :) too bad it’s a bit of a bully

[gl1tchxr]

the dynamic between juxt and ny is unparalleled. they learn from each other without meaning to. they're both jealous of the other. they inspire each other to be better. they absorb each other's worst habits. they seem like they would get along least but they understand each other in a way no one else can

[whimsyprinx]

currently failing to cope with the fact that none of my friends feel like My Friend

[mobpd]

I'm such a coward. tried to at least get deep enough as a preparation to slit my wrists but I couldn't even get to the second layer. and it's not even like i don't like to hit styro, i'm just being a little bitch about it

[stardust-thief]

look after you

an: this my first x reader fic LMAOO, i needed to write smth and this spencer was on my brain :// i am in the middle of a rly long donna fic but i cba this was much easier. also i absolutley have not proof read this sorry

synopsis: you get hurt while hunting down an unsub, after some reluctance (and kind words from papa rossi) you let spencer take care of you, 1.7k words

cw: descriptions of violence, panic attack, spencer swears and can drive (the most un-canon thing abt him) umm italians..., the rest is just fluffy, hurt/comfort, x reader but no y/n

masterlist

The unsub had his gun pointed at you, the cold press of the barrel against flesh. He was ranting and raving about needing to be seen and understood, having spent his childhood in emotional neglect. Teachers and parents failed him at every turn, it’s not his fault that this happened but he can fix it if he just drops the gun. Rossi tried to tell him this over and over, but he only got more angry, pushing the gun in harder and harder. 

If you were to open your eyes, you would’ve seen JJ and Luke there too, guns trained on the unsub. Their eyes glancing between you, the unsub, and the gun. But you didn’t. Not until the bang went off and you could breathe again. 

The flashing lights of the ambulance do nothing to dissuade the pressing headache you feel coming on, the movement of people helps even less. You watch as the EMT’s cart the unsub away on a gurney, sheet covering him. 

“You okay, kid?” Rossi asks from beside you, he had been hovering ever since the ambulance arrived. 

“I’m fine, just need a good night's rest. I’ll be good as new.” You hummed half-heartedly. 

David Rossi always knew when someone was lying to him, part of that talent comes from his job as a profiler, but it’s mostly because of some ancient Italian magic. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that to me. Look, Hotch is on his way with Reid and Emily. They’re gonna be taking some witness statements, but I imagine Boy Wonder will be a little distracted. I want you to let him take care of you, ok? You’ve been through hell tonight kid, let him worry.”

Italians never lie, although you wish they did. Spencer had very obviously caught feelings for you, everyone on the team could see it. Unfortunately, so could you. Spencer Reid was one of the kindest, most genuine people you had ever met, always putting other people's needs before his own. A voice in your head kept telling you that there is nothing you have done to deserve someone like him doting all over you? You had only brought trouble to the people who loved you. Eventually you learned that it was better to just keep everyone at a distance; if you don’t let them in, they can’t get hurt. Which worked well, up until Spencer.

He had such a wormy way of getting into your brain at the worst times; whether it was when you were alone in your kitchen, or at slightly dangerous, very inappropriate times on a case. You couldn’t stop thinking about him and his stupidly cute (and sometimes ill-timed) facts. Some part of you wanted to let him in, in the end the stubborn side always took over. 

Before long, you heard the worried cries of Spencer trying to find you in the chaos. Rossi called his name and gave you a pat on the shoulder, “Remember, you deserve to be looked after too.” and left to find Hotch.

“Oh my god, are you okay? We tried to get here as soon as we could, but they managed to take down the unsub right? What happened, did he hurt you? How did you get so close? Talk to me are-” Oh, how he rambles. 

“Spencer, I’m fine. I just need to… rest, you know. He didn’t hurt me that bad, just a sprained wrist, couple bruises. Could’ve been worse.”

He spluttered, “Could’ve- you know, that doesn’t make this any better, I was so worried about you. He had a fucking gun to your head, I was going insane thinking about what could’ve happened. What did the EMT say about your wrist?”

“Just to rest it, and use an ice pack if it starts to swell or hurt.” You couldn’t look him in the eye, he was so worried about you. It made butterflies dance in your belly, but there was a twinge of guilt there too. He was so busy, he worked so hard and then went home to look after his mom. He had too much on his plate, how could you add more to it? “Spence, I’m really sorry about worrying you. I should be fine to leave now, so I’ll just head home and sleep it off. Have a good night.” You pushed yourself off the ambulance, eyes focused downwards, restless fingers fidgeting with the already frayed bandage.

“No- wait what are you talking about? You’re gonna drive yourself home in this condition? I can’t let you do that, even thinking about it makes me feel sick.” He lowered his head to yours and spoke softer this time, “Please let me take you home. I don’t have to stay, I just want to make sure you’re ok, ok?”

Fuck that voice did things to you. Leaning from side to side, you thought about what Rossi had said earlier. Maybe, it was ok to let someone in? It would be cruel to let him suffer more, not knowing if you were ok or somehow got in a car crash with 5 other vehicles on your way home. Just this once, you think.

Looking up into his soft eyes, you give a small nod. His lips immediately turned up into a smile, his hand comes up to cup your head, fingers stroking your cheek. It felt… nice. His thumb was calloused but he still moisturised enough for it to feel smooth, and he smelled like lemongrass and ginger. His hand fell to the small of your back as he guided you to his car. Ever the gentlemen, he opened your door and softly placed his hand over your head as you got in. Manoeuvring himself into the driver's side, he pulled out his phone and typed something, then quickly stuffed it away into a pocket and turned on the engine.

The sky was dark when you woke up. The unsub had a gun to your head at dusk, and Spencer was walking into your apartment when the moon was out. He took off his shoes and the door, and walked into your living room.

“I’ve never been here before,” he mused. “I like it.”

He looked at ease wandering around your apartment, his shoulders had relaxed and he let out soft musings as he perused your photo collections.

“Oh Spencer, not that one, it’s embarrassing!” You tried (with not a lot of effort) to pull him away from the frame.

“No this is cute, was this when you were at University?” He asked, wrapping an arm around you.

Oh my god. “Yeah, um- those were some of my friends at the time. I try and keep in touch but, you know.”

He hummed, pulling you closer into him. Finally content, he looked down at you. “How’s your wrist?”

“It’s ok,” you shrugged, “just a little tender now.”

“Where’s your kitchen, I can get some ice.”

“Spence-” you wanted to tell him no, to go home and look after himself. But his body was so warm, having him so close to you melted your brain, leaving you unable to think of any good reason as to why he should leave. “It’s the first door on the right.”

His grip tightened for a moment before he swiftly navigated you to the sofa, and turned to leave for the kitchen. The cold of the apartment rushed to get you as soon as he unraveled his arms. You hadn’t been alone all day since the unsubs attack, it somehow felt more claustrophobic. His hand on your throat, squeezing the air from your lungs. The way he grabbed your arm, contorting it so he could throw you to the ground. The gun, pressed into your forehead. The knowledge that the only thing between you being alive, and you being in a ditch, was a madman's finger on the trigger. Reality faded as each memory pressed further and further into your mind. You weren’t in your apartment anymore, you could feel the cold concrete beneath your hands. The thick air in your lungs, Rossi and the unsub shouting.

A hand on your knee, a soft voice bringing you back. There was no unsub, no gun to your head. You were alive. You were alive and Spencer was in your apartment, wiping the tears that had fallen down your face.

“You with me?” His voice was so soft, you couldn’t recall ever hearing Spencer raise his voice in anger. He was so gentle when he touched you. 

The floodgates burst, choked sobs made their way past your lips. Your shoulder shook as you cried, pressing yourself into Spencer’s arms. “Oh honey,” He murmured, pressing his lips into your head, softly rocking you back and forth as you sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. It was too much. You could have died today. Very nearly did. You weren’t ready to die, not yet at least.

As your cries softened into hiccups, you pushed yourself back from Spencer. “I’m sorry, that was so disgusting. It just all- I don’t know.”

 “Hey, you don’t ever have to apologise to me ok? What you went through was really scary, I’d honestly be more shocked if you didn’t cry.” His hand moved to draw soothing shapes along your back as you leaned back into him. “You want to watch something to calm down? I brought you some water and an ice pack for your wrist.”

He would be the death of you. You nod and push yourself back into the sofa, moving your wrist to rest in your lap. Spencer gently places the ice pack across your wrist and grips the tips of your fingers. He leans forward to push your cup of water towards you and grabs the TV remote, then turns and leans back so your side is pressed into his front. Truthfully, Spencer didn’t seem like the type to watch cable TV but he navigated the menu with somewhat ease. 

“Look at what’s on! It’s your favourite isn’t it, you want me to put it on.” He said as he nudged your shoulder.

He remembered your favourite film, of course he would remember it he has an eidetic memory. You hummed a yes as you relaxed your body further into his, finally content. Maybe Rossi was right, having Spencer close really wasn’t so bad after all.

[mynahx3]

I'll Make You Better, Baby 1.5k

This is a lil drabble of @meo-eiru elf OC Silas. The lil cutie just wants to take care of his little human Hope everyone enjoys!! Got inspired after getting sick ;-;

WARNINGS: Noncon oral (male receiving), forced infantilization, implied kidnapping, implied prior noncon, weird misunderstood mom/ baby relationship, Silas does not understand his feelings for reader lol GN! Reader

Being sick had to be one of the worst things to happen at this very moment. It hurt to move; you barfed almost everything you ate, and all you wanted to do was curl up in bed and sleep until you felt better.

When it happened before, you would stay home from work. Recover bundled in your bed with a plethora of medications on your nightstand, maybe with a cup of tea or two to soothe your aching throat. Either sleep the day away or spend the time bingeing your favorite show.

Things like that took time for you to get better, but they were conventional.

Now if someone told you that you'd be forced into the care of a delusional elf after getting lost in the enchanted forest, you'd call them crazy. But here you were, being pampered as he insisted on feeding you strange concoctions, doting on you like a mother would.

Only a mother wouldn't be doing this to their child.

Silas currently had you on the bed, bundled in the blanket, but you were on your knees. He stood at the foot of the bed; being as tall as he was, he loomed over you like a giant. His eyes were lovestruck and filled with tears as he guided your head up and down his length.

The taste of him was all over your tongue; a mix of his cum and drool went down your chin. Not bad, per say; it tasted sweeter with a hint of saltiness, unlike any human you've ever been with.

His fingers were tangled in your hair as he assisted you, moving your head with a firm but gentle touch. Your mouth aches around him, and he barely went halfway; your throat felt raw and stretched as you took more and more of him in.

"Feels so good, my baby." Silas praised, his hips bucking more into your throat on accident. "Let me, let me help you."

The action made you gag, hands pushing harder on his hips. It was a miracle you could breathe with how much your nose was stopped up much less with his monster of a cock down your throat.

You closed your eyes and tried to relax, focusing on your breathing and blocking out the sensation of him filling you up. It was a task easier said than done. Silas moans above you, high and needy like always, long ears down and twitching; his entire face blushed a deep red.

When this was first proposed, you fought it, like always; your weak attempts did nothing to phase him. His strength compared to yours was like night and day; he easily picked you up from the floor where he found you in the bathroom after dinner.

Doting on you, cleaning you up after barfing, and then claiming he had to feed his baby. That he needed to give you your medicine.

You knew what that meant. Another session of swallowing his fluids. His blood. His cum. He tried to get you to drink milk from his large chest, but that didn't work, to his disappointment, so he had to make due. He was still trying to trigger his lactation to no avail.

Not much was known of the magical realm to humans, much less elves. Magical beings were said to have healing properties, but this way was… demeaning.

A choked sound comes from you; his hips move faster as he continues to force his fluids down your throat. You open your eyes, your hands pushing harder on his hips, trying to find the strength to pry yourself off him, but he only cooed at you sweetly.

With a hand over yours, he guided it along what didn't fit in your mouth, making it run along it smoothly. The taste was overwhelming, and his cock had a velvety texture over your tongue, making it difficult to resist the sensation. Letting out a muffled cry, you looked up at him, tears going down your cheeks, trying to convey your discomfort, but he only smiled down at you, tears in his own eyes.

"Just a little longer." He urged, moans escaping his lips as you gargled on his length. "A little longer and you'll feel better. Mommy will make you feel so good, I promise."

The sound of his voice was both soothing and unsettling, as you struggled to comply with his demands. Each passing moment felt like an eternity, the taste of him becoming more unbearable with each passing second. But you knew you had no choice but to endure it, hoping that eventually it would all be over. As you fought back the urge to gag, his grip on your head tightened, pushing you further down.

Moaning in pleasure, he gently patted your hair, whispering words of encouragement that only added to your discomfort.

"Such a strong baby. You'll be full soon, so full and happy."

You could feel tears welling up in your eyes as you tried to block out the sensations overwhelming you. With how fast he was moving and how loud he was, it wouldn't be long.

His hips stuttered, his breathing becoming more erratic as he reached his peak. The sound of his pleasure-filled moans filled the room, making your skin crawl even more.

As he finally came, your mouth was filled even more. The hot, fruity taste of his release made you gag, but you forced yourself to swallow it down, knowing there was no other choice.

"There you go, there you go." He encouraged, making sure to keep his hold on you until you swallowed every drop.

He was groaning as he felt your tongue travel along his length, sending shivers down his spine. He almost felt his knees give in from the sensations, but he held on, reveling in the pleasure you were giving him.

As he released his grip on you, you felt a wave of relief wash over you; this gave you the moment to gasp for air. The room fell silent, the only sound being the heavy breathing of both of you.

You could feel his eyes on you, watching your every move as you tried to compose yourself. Harder for you than him. Although you were still experiencing headaches and body aches, at least your nausea had subsided. The frown was back on your face, something that you never really tried to hide anymore.

Silas wiped the remnants from your chin before kissing you gently, his tongue going into your mouth in a slow, sensual manner. He let the kiss go on for what felt like an eternity, his hands exploring your body with a gentle touch. Eventually, he pulled away with a soft smile, cupping your face as he pecked your nose, ignoring the way you glared at him.

"Come sleep with mommy, baby!"

He looked fine, aside from the light blush on his cheeks and pointy ears. As cheerful as always, fixing himself to get ready for bed, he preferred to sleep in the nude.

You really couldn't stand him, you thought, a grimace on your face as you reluctantly followed him to bed. The two of you followed your usual routine since you've been sick.

He made you drink a mysterious liquid from a glass; it was a dark red, almost like blood, and knowing him, it most likely was.

He grinned broadly when you handed him the glass back after drinking it. The taste was of iron and cherries, a strange combination that surprisingly wasn't as bad as you expected. You couldn't help but wonder what exactly he was giving you, but you were used to it by now. His coddling, his singing, and his insistence on taking care of you despite your protests.

You were used to it all by now. Plus, you were really too exhausted to fight anymore.

With you nestled against his chest and a blanket around the two of you, his arms encircling your body like a vice, he was beyond happy. Silas always had a way of getting what he wanted, even if it meant invading your personal space. You couldn't stand him or his behavior at times.

Occasionally, though, he was right.

The effects of his bodily fluids were no doubt working their magic on you, leaving you feeling surprisingly content. You felt warm all over and strangely full in your stomach, like if you had eaten a delicious soup. Your throat was finally free of the acid from barfing and whatever he had done to it.

Looking at him, he slept peacefully, snoring lightly as he laid next to you in bed. Despite his annoying habits, there was a sense of comfort in his presence.

No, no. That wasn't it.

You closed your eyes, shaking your head. The warmth of his body next to yours was simply soothing, nothing more.

You weren't thinking straight; it had to be the fever getting to your brain.

It didn't help that you really needed to get some sleep.

Relaxing more against him, you felt your eyes grow heavier, the sound of his breathing lulling you into a peaceful slumber. The fever-induced delirium was taking its toll, but for now, you were content to drift off in his comforting embrace.

[luveline]

if it’s at all possible, i’m requesting the fluffiest, giggliest fic with poly!marauders where reader is just sad and teary so they get in a big cuddle pile and tickle her and kiss her until she’s a giggly mess and all cheered up 🥹 thank you lovely jade!! <3

ty for requesting angel! fem, 1.1k

You watch yourself in the mirror. At your vanity, a cotton pad soaked in toner in hand. You wash down your face gently, your eyes hot and heavy and waiting to fill with tears. 

Maybe it’s because it’s Sirius who’s sitting on your bed that you end up crying. It’s hard to explain why it makes a difference, why he’s the one out of everyone who you can’t hide from when you’re sad. It’s not as though James or Remus are any less understanding than he is. James is the most generous person you’ve ever met, he’d let you cry into his arms for days on end without complaint, and Remus understands better than most what it is to be in pain, but Sirius won’t make you talk about it. When you’re feeling better, you’ll realise that it’s the complete lack of pressure to confront your feelings that brings them to the surface. Sirius won’t ask you to explain yourself. 

The tears fall down in discordant waves. One from the left, two from the right. Your nose grows hot, an uncomfortable wetness gathering at the back of your throat. 

You put your cotton pad aside, sniffling. 

“You okay, my angel?” Sirius asks, turning another page of his novel. 

You take a shaky breath. “Yeah,” you say, voice thick with tears. 

“You don’t sound okay.” You watch in the mirror as he puts his book down. He stands up quickly, and you’re presented with how good looking he is. Even through tears, he looks pretty. “What’s wrong?” 

You bend in on yourself, pressing your fingers to your eyes. “It’s nothing.” 

His hand falls against your shoulder, warm, the other not far behind. He leans on your back. “Come on, sweet girl,” he whispers, “don’t cry by yourself. Come to bed with me.” 

He doesn’t push you. You knew he wouldn’t. 

You let him usher you into the bed, where he sits with crossed legs and you fall into his chest. Your shoulders ache with your crying, shaking as the tears turn to sobs. You think about everything too much. And, despite the best intentions, Sirius’ gentle patting and hugging makes you cry harder. 

It’s a quiet house. The sound of your breakdown attracts another boy. He climbs into bed in front of you both. You know it’s Remus because James’ would’ve exclaimed in fear at the door, his hand tentative on your thigh. “Is everything alright?” he asks softly. 

“She’s okay, just a rough day,” Sirius says. 

It isn’t a lie. You wrap your arms around his waist like a clamp and lay there, face slipping down against his stomach, all bent and hurting as tears soak his dark t-shirt. 

“Really rough, it must’ve been,” Remus says. He rubs your thigh. “It’ll be okay. We’re here.” 

That makes you cry worse, too, but eventually the sentiment is driven home. No matter how bad the day is, or what happens to you, you’ll always have people to come home to who love you, and who want to rub your back for you when you can’t calm down. 

Remus pats your leg in a rhythm. Sirius stays very still. They both, somehow, know what you need. 

A little later, you lay with your face pressed to Sirius’ chest just shy of his armpit, Remus’ patting turned to light tickling, his voice a low constant. “You’re just so beautiful it intimidates people, that’s your problem, dovey, you’re scary because you’re that pretty. You think I’m blowing smoke, but I’m serious, and Sirius agrees with me, and James would get down on his knees right here and now and testify to that same thing.” His hand slides between the soft upper insides of your thighs to squeeze one reverently. “Everyone is jealous of you.” 

“Stop it,” you mumble. 

“She’s smiling,” Sirius says, drawing a loop behind your ear. 

“Stop.” 

“Everyone is jealous of me,” Remus furthers, “at Books and Coco, whenever you come with me, the boy behind the counter always gives me that stupid chauvinistic look like I’ve done some great service to men-kind in landing you.” Remus leans down to kiss your leg. “And it’s silly that he gives me that look, but his sentiment isn’t wrong. I can’t say I landed you, but I am lucky.” 

“Stop,” you say again, laughing as his breath further tickles your leg. 

The door to the bedroom clatters open. You jump, having not heard the front door, but Sirius rubs your arm and you quickly calm. After all, it’s James coming in. He’s far from scary. 

“Hello,” he says, a little breathless, “you guys wouldn’t believe the photo I just took at the pond. The sun was setting and there were all these colours coming through the trees and over the water.” He gives you a funny look. “Have you been crying?” 

“Just a bit,” Sirius says gently, hugging you a half inch closer, “she’s alright now.” 

James frowns. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.” 

“It’s okay,” Sirius answers for you. To some, his speaking for you might irk them, but right now it’s exactly what you need. It’s less embarrassing to have him talk for you. “Remus has praised her half to death, and he keeps tickling us both.” 

“Oh, you’re tickling him too?” you ask. 

Remus squints at you. “Well, just a little bit.” 

You put upon a forlorn sigh. “I’m not as special as I thought.” 

“Sweetheart, you are the most special,” James says, climbing into the bed, making you the centre of their flower, “you’re gorgeous. Let’s have a kiss.” 

“That’s what I said,” Remus says, laughing as you lean away from James’ kiss, even as big hands find your cheeks to hold your face. 

“Come on, lovely girl, just give me a kiss so I know you’re alright,” James says. 

You evade to tease him. You can’t help laughing as you turn your head one way and then the other, quick to dodge him, his lips pressing half kisses against whatever bit of skin he can as you move. 

“This is harassment!” you laugh. 

“Just one kiss…” He holds your face steady, and he looks at you long and hard. When you move your chin up to kiss him, he moves away. “You’re okay?” he asks softly. 

“I’m fine,” you laugh, kissing him quickly. 

James collapses atop you, all his weight and smells. “Thank god for that.” 

“Well, thank Sirius,” Remus says, “he did all the back-rubbing.” 

Sirius groans and tries to get out from under you. “You’re all very heavy.” 

“James? Can I see your photo?” you ask. 

He squeezes you half to death in answer. 

[lupinqs]

paige x reader request!! okay so reader has never dated before (she’s always focused on school and boys around her never seem to “meet up” to her standards….right lol) when she gets to college she meets p and they become really close. they end up falling for each other but reader is conflicted bc she has thought she’s been straight but looking back all the signs were there. she’s never wanted to have sex before (men are scary) but she wants to with p, she trusts her. this could be p talking reader through this realization and/or smut (p being really sweet w her bc it’s her first time yk)!! thank you!!

FIRST TIME ━━ paige bueckers x reader

☆ ━ summary: your first time is with paige

☆ ━ word count: 5.3K

☆ ━ warnings: smut with plot (honestly just p eating r out)

☆ ━ links: my masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: my gift to everyone after that hellish lottery… fuck dallas bro 😐😐 also this is not my best work this month has been fucking terrible so my bad

FOR YOU, it’s always been school. School, school, school. By seventh grade, you already knew you wanted to go into medicine. Your parents both work in the field—your mom at the hospital, your dad in his private practice. You grew up hearing their stories over dinner, listening to the ups and downs of their days, feeling that pull towards something important, something that could make a difference. The way they talked about their work, you couldn’t help but imagine yourself there, following in their footsteps.

So, you worked. Hard. From the moment you set your sights on medicine, there was no looking back. High school flew by in a steady cycle of textbooks, flashcards, volunteer shifts, and internships, each one a piece of the puzzle you were putting together. You spent weekends shadowing doctors, hours in study groups, a summer interning at the local hospital where you first learned what a real emergency room felt like. Even then, nothing could shake you from the goal you’d carved out for yourself. You’d known from the start where you wanted to end up: Yale. As a Connecticut native, it felt like a given. You saw yourself there so clearly that the idea of not getting in didn’t even occur to you.

Until it did. And when the rejection letter came, it was like the ground had fallen out beneath you. There was shock, disappointment, embarrassment. You’d done everything right—how had that not been enough? But still, UConn is a good college, and the goal is med school anyway. You tell yourself it doesn’t matter where you get your undergraduate degree, that you’ll just work even harder this time. When it comes to med school applications, there won’t be any mistakes, no missed chances. You won’t let it happen again—you will be going to Yale.

The thing is, school’s been your everything for so long that you don’t have much of a life outside of it. You had a first kiss once, an awkward moment with a boy who you never talked to again. But after that, there hasn’t been anything more. You’ve always been busy, and to be honest, there’s never been anyone who made you want to carve out time. Every relationship around you seemed like a distraction, a place for people to get hurt or get sidetracked, neither of which were part of your plan. Your friends like to tease you about it, saying your standards are too high, that no one will ever live up to the expectations you’ve set. And maybe that was true. Maybe that’s what it is. The boys just don’t meet your standards. You accept that, not caring to pay any mind to them (though they certainly paid mind to you), continuing to stay focused.

But at UConn, things start to feel different. College is strange that way—there’s structure, but there’s also space, a little more breathing room. It’s not like high school, where everyone knew what you were doing all the time, where your schedule was mapped out. Here, people let loose, go out, drink, stay up until all hours for no reason at all. You do it, too, and you realize it’s fun. But you never let it go further, never bother to get any sort of romance or even hook-ups involved in your life—because you’re still who you are. Your studies come first, always. You continuously remind yourself of that. Med school is the goal, and you work towards it every day.

Besides, you’re not even really interested in dating or anything of the sort.

That is, until you meet a certain blonde-haired basketball player.

It happens during the second semester of your freshman year, in a class you’re only taking for the credit. You barely even remember signing up for it—some easy elective with minimal workload to round out your schedule. You don’t care about the subject, don’t even plan on giving it much effort beyond the occasional assignment because you know it’ll be easy anyways. But then she walks in.

Paige Bueckers. You’ve heard the name before, of course. Everyone has. She’s the sophomore basketball phenom, the face of UConn athletics, practically a celebrity on campus. You’ve never paid her much attention—basketball isn’t really your thing—but the buzz around her is impossible to ignore. Still, when she strolls into the classroom, disheveled and running a little late, it takes you a moment to connect the dots. Her hair’s thrown into a low bun, messy strands framing her face. She’s in a gray UConn sweatsuit, the hem of her hoodie slightly frayed, her glasses sitting casually on the bridge of her nose. She scans the room, sees that the only open seat is next to you, and slides into it without hesitation.

“Hey,” she says, flashing you a quick smile before dropping her bag on the floor.

And that’s it. Nothing monumental. Just a simple greeting. But there’s something about her—her presence, the casual ease with which she takes up space—that immediately hooks your attention.

At first, you try to keep your head down. She’s just another classmate, someone you’ll probably never see again once the semester’s over. But Paige doesn’t make it easy to ignore her. She leans over to you during class, whispering comments about the lecture or the professor’s awkward hand gestures. She’s funny—unexpectedly so—and you catch yourself smiling at her jokes even when you try not to.

You notice other things, too. Like the sharp line of her jaw, the way her broad shoulders stretch the fabric of her sweatshirt, the subtle curve of muscle beneath her long sleeves. She’s not the type of traditional feminine pretty that you’d expect, not delicate or polished. No makeup, no carefully curated outfits. But there’s something about her—an almost sculptural beauty, like she’s been chiseled from marble by a particularly ambitious artist. It’s distracting. And you don’t get distracted easily.

When your friends convince you to go to your first basketball game of the season, you tell yourself it’s just for the experience. A chance to break out of your usual routine. But then you see her on the court. And suddenly, everything makes sense. Paige doesn’t just play basketball; she owns it. She’s gorgeous out there, all fire and intensity, her movements fluid and commanding. You find yourself watching her more than the game, mesmerized by the way she moves, just her presence in general.

After that, you start looking forward to class in a way you never have before. It’s not the subject, obviously. It’s Paige. The way she smiles at you when she walks in, the way she leans over to whisper something ridiculous during a particularly boring lecture. She’s the best part of your day, and you don’t even try to deny it.

When the two of you get paired up for a group project, it feels like fate. You go to her apartment to work on it, expecting the same easy banter from class, but it’s more than that. The two of you get off track almost immediately, laughing over something stupid, and before you know it, hours have passed and you’ve barely made any progress. You end up staying way later than planned, both of you scrambling to get back on task before you have to call it a night. By the time you leave, you’ve swapped numbers, and from then on, the texts come easily.

It starts with class updates, but soon it’s more. Late night conversations that have nothing to do with school, Facetimes, too. Hanging out becomes natural: grabbing frozen yogurt, wandering around campus, studying together even when you don’t need to. You talk and talk and talk, and somehow, it’s never boring. Paige has this way of making everything feel lighter, like the weight you usually carry around doesn’t exist when you’re with her.

One night, after one of your froyo runs, you’re sitting in her car. The frozen yogurt is long gone, but neither of you seems ready to say goodbye. The conversation slows, dipping into a comfortable silence. You glance at her, and she’s already looking at you. There’s a shift in the air, something unspoken passing between you. And then, suddenly, she’s kissing you.

You freeze. Not because you don’t want it, but because it’s so unexpected. Your brain can’t catch up with what’s happening, and for a moment, you’re completely still. Paige pulls back almost immediately, her face flushing as she stumbles through an apology. “I’m sorry—I thought—God, I must’ve read that wrong. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” you interrupt, shaking your head as you finally find your voice. “I didn’t mind.”

Her eyes search yours, uncertain, and then the silence settles again. Before you can second-guess yourself, you lean back in. This time, the kiss is slower, more deliberate. Her hand cups your jaw, warm and steady, while your fingers find their way to her arm, brushing over the solid muscle of her bicep. The center console is a nuisance, forcing you both into awkward angles, but you don’t care. It’s all soft lips and quiet breaths, a perfect mix of hunger and gentleness.

When she finally pulls away, she drives you back to your dorm, her voice soft as she says, “I had a good time tonight.”

You manage a quiet “Me too,” before slipping out of the car.

Back in your dorm, your roommate is asleep, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, your heart still racing. You just kissed Paige Bueckers. A girl. And you liked it. More than liked it—you want to do it again.

The realization hits you like a freight train. You’ve never thought about girls like that before, never let your mind wander there. You always assumed you were straight, just too busy or too picky to find the right guy. But now, as you think about Paige, about her hands on your face, her lips against yours, it all starts to make sense. You never wanted boys. Not really. That kiss in high school with that random guy had felt wrong, awkward. The idea of being with a man had never appealed to you—except for maybe Drew Starkey, but even that felt more like a joke than anything real.

But this? The thought of Paige, of her smile, her laugh, the way she made you feel like you were the only person in the room—that feels real. And it’s terrifying.

Because now you know two things for sure:

You’re gay.

And you really, really like Paige Bueckers.

And it turns out that she really likes you, too.

Because that first kiss turns into another kiss. And another. And now, every time you’re alone together, it happens like clockwork.

The two of you have started hanging out in your rooms more often, the need for privacy overtaking any desire to sit in common areas or go out. Paige’s teammates joke that the two of you have become “homebodies,” but they don’t know the half of it. They don’t know how, as soon as the door closes, her lips find yours, soft and insistent, her hands framing your face as if you’re the most delicate thing she’s ever touched.

You’re not dating—at least, not officially. You haven’t talked about it, haven’t dared to address what’s happening between you. It’s easier this way, or so you tell yourself. But a part of you wonders why Paige doesn’t bring it up. Why she hasn’t said anything about what this is or what it could be. And that bothers you, even if you try to push it to the back of your mind. Then again, you’ve never done relationships, so maybe this in between is for the better—at least, for now.

Tonight, her teammates have gone to Ted’s. Paige had asked if you wanted to go, but when you wrinkled your nose and said, “Not really,” she grinned and said, “Me neither.” So, here you are, alone in her dorm room, a movie playing on the small TV mounted to the wall. Neither of you are watching it.

You’re lying on her bed, her weight hovering above you, and there’s no space, no breath between the two of you. Her lips are on yours, insistent and hungry, her body pressing against yours as if she can’t get close enough. There’s an urgency in her kiss tonight, a need that you can feel deep in your chest. You kiss her back with equal fervor, your hands tangling in her hair, pulling her closer, trying to anchor yourself to her.

Her hands are on your hips, her fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp against her mouth. You feel her smile against your lips at the sound and it makes you smile, too.

And, for the first time, you find yourself wanting more. Your skin feels like it’s on fire, your nerves alight with a buzzing energy that you don’t fully understand but don’t want to lose. Paige seems to sense it too because her hands slide up your sides, her thumbs tracing slow, deliberate lines against your skin.

Her lips leave yours, trailing along your jaw, down to your neck. The kisses are messy and open-mouthed, her breath hot and ragged against your skin. When her hands slip under your shirt, tracing over your stomach, you shiver.

“Can I take it off?” she asks, her voice soft but tinged with want.

You hesitate for a moment before nodding, lifting your arms to help her pull the shirt over your head. It’s gone in an instant, and you’re left in just your bra. The cool air against your skin makes you shiver again, but it’s nothing compared to the way Paige looks at you.

Her eyes roam over you, but not in a way that makes you feel objectified. It’s more like she’s in awe, like she can’t believe you’re here with her, like she can’t believe she gets to see you like this. It’s overwhelming.

You look away, suddenly self-conscious. It’s nerve-wracking, you’ve never done this before, and you know that Paige has. But Paige also knows that you haven’t, which you suppose makes things easier. You feel her fingers catch your chin, gently turning your head back to face her. Her touch is so tender it nearly makes you cry.

“If you wanna stop, tell me,” she says, her blue eyes locked onto yours, her voice steady and sincere.

You shake your head, your heart pounding. “I don’t wanna stop,” you say quickly, and then, after a pause, you add, your face flushing slightly with embarrassment, “I’m just a little nervous.”

She smiles softly, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Her hands move to your ribs, tracing slow, soothing lines along your skin. “It’s okay,” she murmurs. “You don’t gotta be. I’m right here.”

Her words settle something inside you, easing the tension in your chest. You nod, and she kisses you again, her lips slow and deliberate against yours. The urgency from earlier is still there, but now it’s tempered by something softer, something deeper. You want her closer, impossibly closer.

Her hands slide up your sides once more, stopping just below your chest, and the anticipation alone makes your breath catch. When her palms finally cup your breasts through your bra, her touch is firm yet reverent, and the sensation makes you gasp against her mouth. Your breathing deepens, your chest rising and falling under her hands.

It’s instinctual, the way your hands move to her waist, your fingers slipping underneath the hem of her long-sleeve shirt. Her skin is warm beneath your touch, and you can feel the subtle definition of her abs as your hands explore, your palms smoothing over her sides.

Paige groans softly into your mouth, her body pressing harder against yours as if she’s trying to fuse you together. Then she pulls away just enough to tug her long-sleeve shirt over her head in one fluid motion, tossing it carelessly across the room. The moment it’s gone, she’s back, her lips finding yours again, more insistent than ever.

She’s in just her sports bra now, and you can’t help but let your fingers trail along the edges of it, brushing against the smooth fabric and the warm skin beneath. Paige shivers under your touch, and the knowledge that you’re affecting her this much makes your heart race even faster.

Then you feel her hands move behind your back, her fingers toying with the clasp of your bra. She hesitates, her lips hovering over yours as if she’s waiting for your permission.

You pull back just slightly, your lips still brushing hers as you murmur, “Take it off.”

Her eyes flicker with something intense, something almost vulnerable, as she nods. She unclasps your bra with practiced ease, sliding the straps down your shoulders before pulling it away completely. For a moment, she doesn’t move, her gaze dropping to your bare chest. Her throat bobs as she swallows hard, and when she finally speaks, her voice is low and husky.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” she mutters, her eyes locking with yours for a heartbeat before her lips are on yours again, desperate and consuming.

Her hands return to your breasts, cupping and kneading them in a way that makes your head fall back against the pillows. A quiet whimper escapes your throat, and Paige groans in response, the sound vibrating against your lips.

Her mouth begins to wander, leaving your lips to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your jawline, then lower to your neck. She lingers there, her teeth grazing your skin before she soothes the slight sting with her tongue. Each kiss feels deliberate, like she’s trying to memorize the way you taste, the way you react to her touch.

She moves lower, her lips brushing along your collarbone, her breath warm and uneven against your skin. Her hands continue their slow, deliberate exploration of your chest, her thumbs brushing over your nipples in a way that makes your breath hitch.

Her lips trace the edges of your breasts, teasing and deliberate, and it’s almost too much. Your fingers tighten their hold on her sides, your nails digging slightly into her skin as you try to ground yourself.

Paige’s lips move with an unrelenting intensity, open-mouthed kisses peppered across your chest as though she’s determined to worship every inch of you. When her mouth closes over one of your nipples, the heat and pressure of her tongue send a jolt through your body, and you swallow hard, trying to keep yourself steady. The sensation is new, overwhelming in the best way, and you feel a steady, growing thrum between your legs that you can’t ignore.

She doesn’t rush, her lips and tongue moving with precision, her hands anchoring you to the bed as if she doesn’t want you to float away. Her mouth trails from one breast to the other, lavishing attention in a way that makes your breath hitch and your fingers curl into the sheets.

“Paige,” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper, your chest rising and falling heavily as her lips continue their descent.

She hums softly against your skin, a sound that vibrates through you as her mouth moves lower. She lingers over your stomach, her lips and tongue leaving a warm, wet trail across your skin. When she sucks on a spot just below your navel, you know she’s leaving a mark, but you don’t care. The sensation is intoxicating, her gentle pressure grounding you as your thoughts scatter into nothing but her touch, her presence.

Then, her hands move to the waistband of your sweatpants, pausing just above your hips. Her fingers don’t tug or pull, just hover there, her thumbs brushing lightly against your skin. You glance down at her, heart pounding in your chest, only to find her already looking up at you.

Her eyes are soft, full of a question she hasn’t yet asked, though there’s no mistaking the want clouding her gaze. When she finally speaks, her voice is quiet, careful, “Do you want me to?”

You swallow thickly, your throat dry. Do you want her to? God, yes. It’s not even a question. You don’t just want her—you think you might need her in this moment, need her to fix that ache that’s been building between your legs since she first kissed you tonight.

But it’s scary. Already, you’ve never been this exposed with anyone before, and this—this is something else entirely. A deeper kind of intimacy, one you thought you’d be ready for but now realize the weight of. Whenever you pictured what your first time might be like, you never really thought it would be too important, but now, here, with Paige above you, it feels monumental.

But who else would it be, if not her? Paige, who makes you feel safe, wanted, adored. You trust her in a way you’ve never trusted anyone. She’s kind, patient, and you like her so much it almost hurts. It only makes sense for it to be her. Even if it’s scary. Even if the thought creeps in—what if you’re not enough for her? What if you’re different from the others she’s been with, and she’s disappointed?

Your thoughts are interrupted as Paige reaches for your hand, her fingers threading through yours in a gentle, grounding gesture. Her eyes stay on yours, searching, concerned. She says your name, softly, once, then again. And then, “Baby…” Her voice cracks just slightly, and it tugs at something deep inside you. “Please don’t feel pressured. It’s okay. We don’t gotta do anything else.”

The way she says it, so sincere and unselfish, almost undoes you. You shake your head quickly, squeezing her hand in reassurance. “I don’t feel pressured,” you say, and though your voice wavers, it’s honest. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself before you continue. “Just… just keep going, please.”

She hesitates, her eyes locked on yours for a long moment, as if she’s searching for any sign of hesitation, any flicker of doubt. When she seems to find nothing but your own need and trust, she nods, her expression softening into something almost reverent.

“Okay,” she murmurs, her lips pressing a kiss to your stomach, this one gentler than the ones before, less insistent but no less meaningful. She kisses you again, and again, her hands moving slowly as her fingers hook around the waistband of your sweatpants.

She pulls them down your legs with care, her eyes flicking back to yours to make sure it’s still okay. You nod, your heart racing but your body completely at ease with her. And as Paige tosses the sweatpants aside, her hands return to your hips, her lips never far from your skin, and you feel nothing but trust, nothing but her.

She places feather-light kisses along your inner thighs, moving slowly, her lips brushing over the sensitive skin in a way that makes your breath hitch. Her hands rest on your hips, thumbs tracing lazy circles that feel both soothing and electrifying. When her lips press against the edge of your underwear, your heart races so fast it’s all you can hear.

And then, without breaking her rhythm, she tilts her head slightly and presses a soft, lingering kiss right over your clothed clit. The sensation is light, almost teasing, but it sends a shiver coursing through you. You take a shaky breath through your nose, swallowing hard, because she’s barely touched you, and already your body feels like it’s on fire.

When her fingers slide to the waistband of your underwear, she pauses, her eyes flicking up to meet yours. The unspoken question is there again, and this time, you don’t even need to think about it. “Mm-hmm,” you hum softly, nodding as your chest rises and falls a little faster.

Paige nods back, her expression soft but full of intent, and she hooks her fingers around the elastic, sliding your underwear down slowly, carefully, as if she’s unwrapping something fragile. The cool air against your skin makes you shiver, and when her gaze lowers, taking you in fully for the first time, you feel your face heat up, a mixture of anticipation and self-consciousness twisting in your chest.

Instinctively, your legs start to close, but Paige catches them gently, her hands warm and steady as she presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Don’t hide,” she murmurs, her voice low and soothing. When you don’t immediately relax, she looks up at you, sincerity written all over her face. “You’re so pretty, baby,” she says, her words soft but firm, like a promise.

Her reassurance eases some of the tension, and when she presses another kiss to your thigh—this one closer to where you want her—you let your legs fall open again, trusting her. Paige doesn’t rush. She kisses along your thigh again, then again, each one inching closer to where your body feels like it’s burning.

And then she’s there, her breath warm against your clit as she places the softest kiss there. The contact has you gasping quietly, your hips shifting involuntarily. She pauses, letting her lips linger, as if testing your response. When you let out a quiet, broken sound, she pulls back just slightly, her eyes lifting to yours as if checking one last time.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” she whispers, her hands smoothing up and down your thighs. You nod quickly, a whispered, “Okay,” tumbling out, though it feels like an understatement.

And then, without wasting any more time, Paige’s tongue slides along your core. That alone is enough to make your whole body flex, your stomach shuddering. Before you even get to process that foreign feeling of her tongue running up your slit, Paige presses her mouth against your clit completely, rolling her tongue right to the collection of nerves.

Her tongue alternates between soft, sweeping strokes and precise flicks that have you gasping for breath. It’s almost too much, and yet, not enough all at once. You bite your lip, trying to stay quiet, but a moan finally escapes when her tongue moves a certain way, hitting a spot that has your whole body tightening. The sound you make is desperate, unrestrained, and your face flushes in embarrassment. But Paige doesn’t seem to mind—if anything, she doubles down, a soft moan escaping her lips, vibrating against you that sends a fresh wave of pleasure rolling through your body.

Jesus Christ, she’s good at this. Somewhere in the back of your mind, it makes you wonder how many people she’s been with, how much practice she’s had to make you feel like this. But then her tongue slips inside you, making you forget any and all of your thoughts, before it slides back out and smoothes back along your clit.

“Mmm, P,” you manage to gasp, your voice shaky and uneven. She glances up at you, her gaze meeting yours, and the sight of her—eyes dark with want, lips glistening—sends heat flooding through you. When she holds your gaze and tilts her head just slightly, her tongue hitting that same perfect spot again, your head falls back against the pillow, a breathless cry slipping out.

“Right there?” she murmurs, her voice low and muffled against you. The vibrations of her words are enough to make you tremble, and all you can do is nod, your fingers tightening in her hair as you whisper a choked, “Yeah—yes, shit.”

Paige doesn’t let up for a second, her lips and tongue working in seamless harmony to drive you closer and closer to the edge. It’s overwhelming, how good she is at this. Every flick of her tongue, every deliberate motion feels impossibly intentional, like she knows exactly what to do to unravel you piece by piece. Your thighs tense around her, hands tangling into her blonde hair as you press her closer, hips shifting instinctively to meet her movements.

Her hands grip your thighs firmly, keeping you steady as she focuses all of her attention on you. You can feel the intensity in every motion she makes—each swirl of her tongue, every press of her lips against you is filled with purpose. She’s completely locked in, as if nothing else in the world exists but you. The tension in your stomach coils tighter and tighter, your breaths coming in short, shallow gasps.

The noises slipping from your lips are no longer something you can control. You’ve never felt anything like this before, never imagined something could feel this good. Your hips move against her instinctively, searching for more, for everything she can give you. And Paige? Paige meets you exactly where you are, matching your every movement with a rhythm that drives you absolutely wild. As your legs begin to shake, she seems to sense your need for something more, and she slides her hands beneath your thighs, lifting your legs and placing them over her shoulders to get ever closer to your wet, dripping cunt.

“Fuck,” you breathe, your voice trembling as the pressure builds higher and higher. You’re teetering on the edge, every nerve in your body alight with sensation. Paige doesn’t stop, her brows furrowing slightly in concentration as her her mouth becomes more precise and focused, tongue swiping so quickly against your wetness that you can tell she’s determined to push you over. “Paige, I think I’m gonna—”

You feel her nod against you, her tongue chasing the movement, and, between her kitten-licks and sucks, she gasps, breathless herself, “I know, I know. I gotchu, ma.”

And when she dives back in, taking your clit into her mouth and sucking it, her teeth scraping against you, her head shaking with the effort, that seems to do it. Your body tenses, toes curling as you gasp her name again, louder this time. The dam finally breaks, a wave of ecstasy crashing over you so intensely that it leaves you trembling. You cry out, your back arching off the bed as your hand grips Paige’s hair tightly, holding her to you as your orgasm overtakes you, your pussy dripping.

Fuck.

Paige doesn’t pull away, her hands steady on your thighs as she guides you through it, her tongue slowing its movements but not stopping, easing you gently down from your peak. Your body shudders with aftershocks, and you’re left breathless, your heart pounding wildly in your chest.

When Paige finally pulls back, her lips are swollen and glistening, a soft, almost smug smile on her face. She crawls up your body, pressing a kiss to your hip, then your stomach, before finally reaching your lips again. Her kiss is soft, tender, a stark contrast to the intensity of what just happened.

“Hey,” she murmurs against your lips, her voice gentle as she brushes a strand of hair from your face. “You good?”

You nod, still catching your breath, and manage to whisper, “That was… fuck, P.”

Paige grins, her fingers lightly tracing circles along your side. “Did so good for me,” she murmurs, her voice warm and affectionate. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

Her words make your heart flutter, and you bury your face in her neck, a shy smile spreading across your lips. Paige wraps her arms around you, pulling you close as you both settle into the bed. The steady rhythm of her breathing against you is soothing, grounding you after all of… that.

“I’m really glad it was you,” you murmur softly, your fingers idly tracing patterns on her shoulder.

Paige presses a kiss to the top of your head, her voice low and full of sincerity as she replies, “Me too.”

[pencil-n-pen]

I’M STILL TRYING EVERYTHING

⋆° 𐙚 ₊🧦☕🧸₊°⋆ ೀ₊°⋆

previous | kofi | masterlist

post prison!spencer reid x fem!reader

₊ ⊹

I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me.

-mirrorball, taylor swift

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summary: you’ve never had a date or a relationship that either didn’t work out or end in disaster. now that you have spencer, you’re determined not to let it happen again

cw: referenced bad past relationships, very very vaguely referenced past domestic abuse that honestly could be taken a different way, referenced child abuse (readers parents are STILL not it) again this is a criminal minds fic so references to graphic violence

tags/tropes: hurt/comfort (do i even need to say this? you all know who i am) insecurity, like one line of misogyny and it’s in the past and not brought up again, spencer being soft n worried, HEALTHY COMMUNICATION, spencer is just as gone for reader as she is for him honestly he's just a sap

a/n: back by popular demand !! seriously guys, you have no idea how much the support and comments and reblogs and asks means to me 🥹 the overwhelming amount of love for the first fic made me so happy when people started asking about a sequel i knew i had to !!

read the crossword on the collage for a surprise :)

this one goes out to all my girlies who’ve ever felt like they needed to be less in order to get a boyfriend or keep one. we’ll have our soft love just the way it was meant to be

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Spencer is a really good boyfriend.

Like… a really good boyfriend. You’re not sure if this is how having a real boyfriend is or if Spencer is just like this.

He’s so good to you. He’s just so- so him. You can’t explain it. Can’t put it into words.

He’s very patient with you. You’ve never explicitly stated it, but he’s picked up on your previous relationship experience- or more accurately, your lack thereof. The morning after you’d gone home with him, night consisting of nothing but easy sleep and warmth, he’d asked you out for real. Asked you if you’d go on a date with him, and you’d agreed, a giddy smile fixed firmly on your face.

But you still worry.

All it takes it one conversation with your parents to push things over the edge.

“Yes, dad. He’s very good to me.”

A laugh crackles over the line. “I tell you, your mother and I never thought we’d see the day.”

The words twinge uncomfortably in your chest. “Hey, I’m not that bad. I’ve just been focused.”

“More like uptight.”

“Dad—“

“You know, you still haven’t come out to visit your poor old parents since getting this so-called cushy job. And now you’ve got this boyfriend. You’re too young to settle down. Don’t you think we should meet him?”

Sometimes conversations turn so quickly they leave you stranded— scrambling to pick up pieces of what you thought was going to happen and piece them together to make something new. Something for the new route the conversation has taken.

You couldn’t hold back your sigh if you tried. “We haven’t been dating for that long dad, I don’t want to spring this on him—“

“Sweetie, if we don’t meet him now, why might never meet him. Who knows how long he’s gonna stick around?”

(Sometimes, in moments like these, for just a split second, you wonder how a father could say something like that, to his daughter. You wonder why, wonder what you did wrong. And then, you imagine Hotch saying those same things, and you can’t, and it almost makes you feel a little better.)

Your blood runs cold. “What could you possibly mean by that?”

“Well, you know how things have ended in the past. I’m just saying I’d like to meet him before he’s gone."

You don't dignify his words with a response.

"Come on, honey. I'm just joking with you."

"It's not funny."

"Don't be like that--"

"Goodbye."

You hang up, snapping the phone shut with a sigh.

The older you've gotten, the more conversations with your parents end up like this. You suppose it's the way you 'wasted your potential' or 'never made something of yourself.' They've always held resentment ever since you decided to become an agent. So you know not to take what they say to heart, because their words only come from a place of disappointment and displeasure. It's not a reflection of who you really are or what you've really accomplished.

Or at least, that's what Hotch told you when he'd overheard one of your phone calls. It meant more than you'd let on.

But your Dad's words linger in your head. They're irritating and sharp where they claw around in your head because they're true.

You can count on one hand the amount of romantic endeavors you've had. And from those, they all ended horribly. Your parents lost sympathy towards the end of your attempts, muttered words of needing to try harder to keep them, that you should be satisfied that somebody wanted you at all, that you should try to be less... you.

Try to be less... you, dear. The books and the facts- nobody wants those. Put some more effort into your appearance. Otherwise you'll end up all alone.

You'd tried to take their advice, of course. But the relationships that were fathered your parents direction were not loving. There was nothing soft or gentle or warm about them. You'd never felt more unlovable.

So when the incident with the shooter happened and you were lying on the lecture hall floor, blood coloring the carpet deep scarlet, you'd vowed to never let it happen again. That you were going to use your intellect and wit and passion for what you wanted to do- you'd promised yourself that if you survived, you would try to make your life your own, one step at a time.

This, of course, is easier said than done.

It's easy enough to refuse to let yourself get involved with men who are clearly only interested in your for your badge or your body --though the latter happens so rarely you really don't have to worry about it-- because you don't care about them. They're blips on your radar.

But Spencer? Sweet, sweet Spencer who makes you hot-cocoa and binge watches Doctor Who with you, even the later seasons, which you know he doesn't like as much but you love. Spencer who always has a grounding touch to offer, or a quiet command when you need him. Spencer who puts you first.

But there's a limit to these things, right? As far as you've seen, romantic relationship's are transactional, or conditional. Sometimes both. He can't just... keep doing this forever. It's too kind. Too sweet. It'll come to an end soon. Like, like the honeymoon era in early relationships. That's all it is. Plus, he's older than you, and you have no illusions about your unavoidable impulsiveness and naivety.

You've been told that your standards are too high before. "Struck by the hopeless romantic's arrow," your brother had said once, back when you were still in school, crying over a boy who'd told you that he didn't want to date you because you were too smart for a girl.

"That's not being hopeless romantic. There's no such thing as being too smart for a girl."

"There isn't," He'd amended, "But you're not going to have an easy time finding a guy. You of all people can't really afford to be picky."

He'd been right, in the end. So you're just... having a hard time figuring out how genuine Spencer's actions are. Guy's don't really act all romantic in the context of you. You've been told your whole life to be happy with what you get, and what you've had in the past is decidedly not lining up with how Spencer treats you.

It's a nasty little thing in your ear. Is it real? Does it matter as much to him?

When is it all going to end?

--

Rossi make's an offhand comment during a mission that you talk a lot when you're excited about the subject at hand.

JJ agrees. "It's a little unnerving when the subject is the bruising patterns of strangulation."

That little voice comes back.

Too much too much too much too much too much--

"It's useful," You protest, mouth dry.

JJ snorts, "I'm not sure about that. We need to know that the victim was strangled, not what happens to the body during blunt-force asphyxiation."

You'd grown quiet then, let the chatter and musings of the rest of the team wash over you.

Is that something Spencer finds annoying? You have always found things other's view morbid and disturbing fascinating. But JJ is right. No one wants to hear about that.

You brush the comment off, square your shoulders, get back on with the case.

Be better. Try harder.

You don't seen the furrow of Spencer's brows from where he's been watching you, or the quick look he shares with Hotch.

--

You'd never really thought about how clingy you can be before Emily makes an offhand comment about it while the two of you wait in line at a coffee shop. There's a couple in front of you, the girl all over her partner, kissing and giggling and hugging them close.

"Ugh," Emily groans once the two get their coffee and move on. "I could never understand the appeal of all that. I mean doesn't it feel stifling?"

A little stab of ice in your stomach.

"I don't know. I think it's nice."

"No, thank you. If I were her partner, I'd feel smothered."

You think about that conversation every time you take Spencer's hand or lean into his simple touches. They're invasive little things, the thoughts. It's not hard to pull back on all the touching. You never really ask for them in the first place- always too nervous to come off clingy. But you suppose just taking, taking, taking is just the same.

A quick shake of your head, not leaning in, a quiet "I'm fine." and that little nagging fear of smothering begins to quiet. It doesn't leave, but it does get quieter. For a little while, at least.

--

The hard part is trying to be less without noticeably being less. Spencer's smart- and he's a profiler. If you pull back too much too quickly, he'll notice, and you don't want to talk about this yet. You just need to make sure he'll stay. That things won't—

That you won't find out too late that you don't mean as much to him as he does to you.

That's the kind of thing that can't happen again. But ascertaining his true feelings and desires is difficult, because this is all kind's of new territory for you. You want to believe it's real. You really, really want to believe it's real.

But it's never been real before, so why would it be real now?

--

You've asked around (subtly and carefully, of course) about the type of girl Spencer's dated or drifted towards in the past. You know he said he wanted something soft and sweet, but you can't help but think that you're not really either, nor are you in line with his type. All things considered, you're a mess. Something tired-eyed and hollow is how you feel most days. Some sort of creature perhaps? You're honestly not sure what you are. You've spent your entire life being singled out or otherwise othered- always too smart or too different or too weird or too much or too loud or too quiet or too shy or too, too, too. Always too something. You have never been called soft or sweet. In a demeaning way, sure, but never with the quiet reverence that Spencer said it with that night.

It feels like a balancing act, a bit. Holding all those too much parts so close to your chest with one hand and shoving the ones you think Spencer wants with the other hand.

You could probably drop the one hand. The one holding the bad parts. But you're just not convinced he'll stay. You're not sure that he won't look at them with some form of disgust or pity or something else terrible.

You know the balancing act isn't sustainable— you'll fall eventually, and everything will come crashing down, but until then, you just keep trying. Trying to see if he'll stay, trying to see what to do if he won't. How to ensure he will, if that's something that's possible.

--

The act does not hold up for as long as you hoped it would. It comes crashing down with a glass. Literally.

You and Spencer are in the kitchen on a rare weekend off, cooking and drinking wine and swaying to some little old love song.

It should be perfect, except you're worrying that you look ugly while you're dancing, and you're probably singing off-key, and he maybe wants you to shut up so he can hear the song or dance in peace.

He reaches towards you and you just— your brain shrieks for a moment, all senses going into overdrive and you jerk backward, and your elbow knocks into your wine glass, and it falls, shattering behind you with a deafening crash.

Your entire body tenses, waiting for yelling or sighing or something, because you broke the glass, there's crystalline shards everywhere, the wine red and it looks like blood, maybe it is, maybe you're bleeding because the glass was really close to your foot when it fell but you're not sure because you can't really feel your feet or your fingers or—

"Don't move," Spencer says, voice serious, and tears well in your eyes, because this is when it all ends isn't it? "I don't want you to— honey?"

"Yes?" You croak.

His eyes are swimming with concern as he takes in your hunched shoulders, shallow breaths, and scared expression.

Understanding flickers in his features, and you resist the urge to hold your breath.

"Nothing is going to happen to you because of the glass, okay? Everything is fine. We're fine. I'm not mad. See? I'm not mad. I just don't want you to cut your feet on the glass. I'm going to clean this up and get your slippers, okay?"

"Okay." You breathe, voice hoarse. You wring your hands nervously as he leaves to retrieve the necessary supplies to clean the mess, heart beating so fast and so hard you're shocked you can't see it through your shirt.

He's not mad. He's not mad. You're not in trouble. Your parents aren't here. You're not grounded. You're not in trouble. He's not mad.

You're silent while he cleans, focused on getting your breathing under control while he babbles quietly about the history of glass making and the significance of types of wine glasses. The facts and history wash over you in steady waves, easing the tension in your shoulders bit by bit.

"I didn't think you were going to hit me, Spencer."

He continues cleaning. "It's okay if you did. I would never blame you for that."

"But I don't," You say, suddenly desperate, "I know you wouldn't, I've never been hit, not like that."

He's quiet for a few minutes. "Does this have something to do with how you've been acting recently?"

You freeze. "What do you mean?"

He looks up, leaning back on his knees. Making himself smaller, you realize. He's trying not to scare you again.

"You're dating a profiler. Also, I speak fluent you, and you've been chewing all your hangnails again. You only do that when you're stressed and pretending like you're not."

Your finger's twitch at your sides.

His hands come up slowly, and he rubs the length of your waist and hips. "We don't have to talk about it right now, but I think we should soon. I don't want you hurting all by yourself. You've had enough of that. That's what I'm here for."

He finishes cleaning up the glass, and finishes cooking dinner- he'd assured you he'd turned off all burners when the glass hit the floor, so nothing's burnt.

Once you've both eaten, he steers you towards the couch and wordlessly puts on Doctor Who.

The Pandorica is just about to open when you finally decide that if you don't start talking, you never will.

"My parents think you're going to leave me."

Spencer makes a wounded noise in his throat. "Why do they think that?"

"Because it's happened before. I'm, um. I'm not very good at getting into relationships. Or keeping them."

"But that's not your fault."

You sniff hard, rubbing your face with your sleeve. "It is though, isn't it? At least a little. I know I can be a lot. I know I'm not easy to—"

You cut yourself off, but the words hang in the air anyway; unsaid.

I'm not easy to love.

"Anyway," You say, pushing through the lump in your throat. "I just thought. I don't know. I was worried that you'd get fed up with me."

"No," He whispers, voice raw and full of something a lot heavier than fond. "No, no baby. I like that you're clingy and you ramble when you get excited, because it means that we get to talk about something together."

He shifts on the couch, sitting criss-crossed, ducking his head down to catch your gaze. "You know what else I like?"

You scoot over, mirroring his position. "What?"

"I like that you always know when I need you. Even when I don't think I do, you're there. Because I do need you. This isn't a one-way street."

His words hit you straight in your chest. "Oh."

He smiles, brows a little scrunched, brown eyes a deep pool of fondness and a splash of concern. "Yeah. And I'm thinking you need me a little more than you want to let on."

The seam of your pajama pants suddenly becomes the most interesting thing in the world. Amazing, the wonders of a sewing machine.

"Maybe."

"Mmm," He hums, "So if I need you, don't you think that you're allowed to need me?"

Your fingers pick and twirl a loose thread around. "...Yes?"

A large, firm hand covers your thigh, giving it a quick squeeze. "Yes. Not only are you allowed to need me, I want you to need me. Cause you know how you're always worried about being the best girlfriend? Well, I'm always worried about being the best boyfriend."

That makes you look up. "Really?"

He chuckles again, a little puff of air fanning your face. "Yes, really. I assure you, contrary to your past experiences, this is one of those bare minimum things in a relationship."

"That does not," He continues, immediately catching the brief flicker of doubt and shame on your face, "Mean that it is your fault at all for how you were treated in the past. You wouldn't expect me to suddenly become an expert in veterinary medicine just because I've been to the vet's office a few times, right?"

"When did you go to the vet's—"

"Shh, I'm being a good boyfriend," He holds up a hand, lips quirking up when you can't suppress a tiny giggle, "But seriously. You had no frame of reference, right? And you were being told it was your fault. But it wasn't. You didn't deserve that."

He lets his words hang in the air for a little while and allows you time to process this new information.

"What do I do now?"

"Well," He leans in, brushing his nose against yours, curls tickling your forehead, "You've got a pretty sweet deal here. Just three things. You have to keep letting me need you, let yourself need me, and one last little thing."

"What?"

You're so close your breaths are mingling.

"Let me show you what this is supposed to look like. How a man is supposed to treat a pretty girl. His pretty girl."

"Oh, well," Heat rushes to your cheeks, your stomach doing flip-flops, "That sounds pretty hard. I don't know how I'll hold up."

His hand comes up to hold the side of your face, his thumb sweeping strokes under your eye.

"You say that now, but I know what happens to you when I get romantic. You swoon."

You laugh. "I do not swoon."

"You will."

He leans down, capturing your lips in a soft, gentle kiss. It isn't a kiss-kiss. He's kissing you just to kiss you; just to let you know that he's here, that you have him.

It's sweet and perfect and exactly what you need.

--

Letting yourself need Spencer is marginally easier now that you know he needs you. Now that you know you're not going all in for someone who isn't.

He also starts needing you a bit... louder.

It's late evening, and most people have gone home except you and a couple other members of the team, all still working on paperwork.

Except Spencer, who's decided to drape himself over your shoulders like a cat, his chin resting on your head.

"Don't you have work to do?"

"Either finished it or it can be done later."

You shift your shoulders, smiling at how his grumbles vibrate against your back.

He moves his head, pressing his cheek to your head instead of his chin, heaving a deep sigh.

"Your hair smells good."

"Like what?"

"You're shampoo. Yours always smell better than mine."

You continue to work through your paperwork, Spencer a continuous and solid weight against your back.

"Is this even comfortable for your back at all?"

"Doesn't matter. Need girlfriend time."

He can't see it, but you're sure he knows how hard you blush.

--

Spencer's cooking the two of you a late breakfast in the kitchen of his apartment, hair still all mussed from sleep. He's quite the sight. You can't stop staring.

You're sitting on the counter, still dressed in your pajamas, legs swinging.

"You wanna know something cool?"

"You know it,"

"Butterflies and moths can drink blood and tears. There's nutrients in them. Purple Emperor butterflies are especially known for this. It's called mud-puddling."

"So you're telling me I should make sure I bandage any open wounds before I go to a butterfly house?"

"I guess. I can't imagine they'd be able to drink enough blood to actually cause any damage."

"Maybe we'll have to go to a butterfly house. For research."

"Should we get dinner afterwards?"

"We'll deserve it, you know, for all the hard research we'll have done."

"Hmm. Yes, I suppose so."

--

Spencer's bed is infinitely more comfortable than your bed. You're pretty sure it's a combination of the fact that it's the only thing in the entire world that smells so much like him and the fact that he spent part of his large FBI paycheck on a fancy mattress. Back support is very important to him.

You're doing a little reading before bed, shamelessly sprawled all over him while he does his own reading. You've got a leg hooked over his hips, the other tangled with his legs, and your arms and head pillowed on his chest. You move a little every time he takes a breath, and more than once you've paused in your reading, mesmerized by the feeling.

He shifts under you, setting his book down on his night stand and making himself more comfortable.

"Should I move?"

"No," he says, voice deep and gravelly with sleep. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush to him, face pressed to the crook of your neck. He breathes deep, scruffy stubble scratching against your skin. "Like you close. Good for sleep."

Even with the lamp on, and your book in your hand, you fall asleep soon after him.

--

It's an ordinary evening for the two of you. Discarded dishes sit on the coffee table in front of the teeth, neither of you paying them any attention, wrapped up in each other and eyes glued to the T.V.

You look up at Spencer who's watching Doctor Who with the focus of a man who's never seen it, even though you know for a fact he's seen it before, several times in fact.

"I want to know the things you like," He'd said simply, the one time you'd asked why he takes your nightly Doctor Who watching so seriously.

And tonight's no different. Tonight, he looks... well, he looks like Spencer. His face illuminated by the TV screen, his hair all mussed from you running your hands through it earlier.

And it just kind of all hits you at once. You know.

"I love you."

He looks down at you, his expression soft and surprised. When your words register, his expression is so sickeningly fond and happy you can't help but lean in, burying your face in his chest. He rubs your back consolingly, then presses a little kiss to the crown of your head.

"I love you too."

⋆⭒˚.⋆

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[jasmineoolongtea]

it turns out, gojo satoru hates silence. to be more accurate, he hates the sound of total nothing when it comes to you.

that's not to say that he wants you to scream at him like all hell's breaking loose but he just wants something from you, good or bad he doesn't care, over this suffocating silence. you don't even look at him; instead, you focus on attempting to secure the sterile white bandages on top of his injuries. you pretend like you don't see the crimson red of his blood seeping through them as you do.

"baby..." his voice is barely above a whisper, a rare occurrence for someone who's always been the loudest in any room he's in. he gets no response from you, only the sight of your jaw tensing up as you grit your teeth. satoru tries and fails to meet your eyes.

"baby. please, talk to me." he pleads softly, using his other unoccupied hand to reach out to you. you freeze slightly at the feeling of his fingertips upon your arm.

a small sigh of defeat escapes him. "see? i'm fine, nothing's gonna hurt me alright? it's just a scratch, that's all." as if to emphasise his point, he raises his arms up in a show of goodwill, swallowing the harsh wince of pain that threatens to escape his lips.

for what feels like the first time in forever, you look back at him, your eyes meeting his cerulean ones. "that's not the point, satoru." you state, finishing up your bandaging of him. "what if one day you do get hurt badly?" the clang of your tools hitting the metal tray table echoes within the walls of the infirmary.

he brushes off your concerns with a wave. "that's not going to hap-"

"okay, but what if it does?" you cut him off bluntly. your expression is serious, deadly serious with your unwavering gaze and slightly furrowed brows, to the point where he's rendered speechless for the first time.

"have you ever thought about what would happen to the people you leave behind... about me?" your words trail off at the end of your sentence, your voice faltering slightly as well. maybe it's a trick of the light but satoru swears that tears are welling up in the corner of your eyes.

his chest tightens with an uncomfortable squeeze, his gaze falling to the floor. no one dares to speak for a moment, whatever words and phrases of reassurance satoru would typically throw your way now suddenly seem shallow and lack any sort of weight behind them. the air is tense around the both of you.

you don't even need him to respond to know the answer to your own question as it would be a resounding no. for most of his life, satoru lives and breathes like he's untouchable, detached from most things including other people. being someone who has been leagues above everyone else since birth does that to a person.

however, it seems that this has caused him to forget that others around him don't share his fate and that no matter how detached he still believes himself to be, there are still ones who crave his connection and see past his facade of godhood and more as the human he truly is underneath it all.

"...i'm sorry, baby." he murmurs under his breath as he looks back up at you, sincerity and raw vulnerability evident in his expression. "i promise that i'll be more careful next time." he brings your hands to his lips and presses a soft kiss against your skin, letting himself bask in the warmth, your warmth, that is radiating off of you.

"there shouldn't be a next time." you huff half-heartedly, trying to stand strong in light of his previous behaviour which led to this moment but you feel your knees start to turn into jelly the moment his lips graze your hands.

a faint laugh escapes him. "i'll make a promise on that too." he adds, spreading his legs slightly just so he can pull you against his chest and into his arms.

gojo satoru is used to living only for himself but now, he has to remember that he has someone to come home to and he's going to make sure that he starts living like he did. only a shame he didn't see this earlier.

[klaus-littlestwolf]

Hi hi!

If your last post (Klaus!alpha) I lovedddd!!

I noticed you mentioned omegas stealing alphas

Would you consider doing a story where Klaus is with an omega (maybe tatia or caroline) but he finds reader and realises she’s not just an omega but his mate and his wolf gets desperate to knot her instead?

No Lies can Keep me Away -Alpha!Klaus

(I will absolutely write that! I love this request so much, however I’m not okay with cheating so Klaus will Not be cheating but he will be ‘leaving’ Caroline for his Omega)

Warning: Mentions of SA while too drunk to consent

They were not together.

Klaus had made that clear to Caroline about 1,000 times. He was an Alpha and he wanted his own Omega, the one that was made just for him. Until then however, Caroline was a fun distraction. Klaus hated being alone, other than when he was painting, and so she was perfect since she was always happy to spend time with him. That is all they were, friends with some benefits.

Klaus had never really considered how far Caroline would go to “keep him” but when he did she was lucky he was too busy to kill her.

Klaus didn’t have many friends, his group was small and just made up of his brother and Caroline’s friends. Elijah was mated to Katherine who was Caroline’s best friend then there was Bonnie and Y/n. Y/n and Caroline were both Omegas and only friends because of Bonnie and Katherine, Omegas almost always hate each other and it was very clear that Caroline was the “dominant” so to speak. Y/n was quiet and always deferred to her friends, following along with what they did even if she didn’t want to. Klaus often felt bad for her, she clearly needed an Alpha, someone to protect her, she was too sweet for her own good and it got her hurt a lot. He would speak up for her much of the time when Caroline went too far like trying to force her into going home with guys from whatever bar they were at when she clearly didn’t want to. It always ended up with Caroline up his ass for “being in love” with her and how he never defends her like that.

Klaus couldn’t help it. Something about Y/n made him protective and he wanted to ensure she was safe. He never expected that to mean anything more than him just wanting to protect the sweet girl, until the morning after finals.

Klaus awoke on the couch to a whimpering sound tugging at his chest, instantly noticing that Caroline was cuddled into his side making him groan. She knew he hated her doing this, hated her pretending they were more than they were and cuddling into him while he’s passed out from a night of drinking. She just wanted to be able to tell everyone they “cuddled all night” and it was one of the things he hated the most. Caroline ended up in his bed after a party a lot, dragging him off to bed and staying the night only for them to both wake up naked. He knew she enjoyed fucking him when he was drunk since he didn’t “treat her like nothing but a simple fuck” as she put it or push her away afterwards but he always felt so grossed out after it happened, like he couldn’t wash the experience away without scraping off his skin. Luckily today they passed out in Katherine’s apartment on the couch and that left no room for her to do anything.

He sat up, pushing a pillow under her head and shoving the blanket off of him, thankfully she was a deep sleeper and he knew she would be out until much later. While he debated on getting coffee he noticed Y/n was up, rushing around trying to find her things and whining nervously letting him know that this was the noise that awoke him. He wasn’t shocked, an Omega in distress had always woken him up, ever since Kol presented and would cry over whatever was bothering him that day, he always had been a weepy Omega.

‘It’s up there.’ He pointed and she jumped, not having realized she wasn’t the only one awake. He pointed to her boot that was, for some reason, on the bookshelf. ‘I’ll get it-‘

‘No!’ She exclaimed and he jumped in surprise, never having known her to be loud…ever. ‘I mean-I’ve got it. Go back to sleep, Caroline will be upset if you leave her alone.’ She stated, reaching high to barely get the shoe from the top shelf, Klaus staring at her ass in those cute shorts which always made his pants tight. He had wished for years that this sweet little Omega could have been his with how strongly she set him on edge. She was just such a perfect Omega that he knew he would live his life jealous of whoever she did end up with while he would probably be stuck with Caroline forever just to avoid loneliness.

‘Fuck that, she doesn’t care when I’m pissed, she can be as upset with me as she wants…classes are over, where are you rushing off to?’ He wondered, the hangover beginning to be too much with the sun coming through the shades.

‘I just have to go home. I have something I have to get by 8 and it’s-Fuck! Bye!’ She exclaimed, not tying her boots as she ran passed him and out the front door. Klaus stood, grabbing his keys, phone and wallet before sliding on his shoes and closing the door behind him to see her leaning against the side of Caroline’s car and groaning.

‘Yeah, we threw that in the fire last night.’ Y/n’s bike had been thrown into the bonfire at some point when Caroline pointed out she wouldn’t need the stupid thing to get to and from classes anymore. ‘Get in, I’ll drive you-‘

‘No! No, you don’t need to. I’ll run, it’s no big deal-‘

‘Y/n! Seriously, you hate running and it’s not a problem. I’m going to get coffee anyway. We’ll go get your stuff and we’ll pick up coffee for everyone on the way back. Get in the car, I’m not taking “no” for an answer.’ She groaned before jumping into the truck and sitting in the back seat as far from him as possible. ‘I’m not a chauffeur love, get up here.’ He teased and grinned when she cracked a smile. ‘You don’t need to be so nervous, she’s not going to hurt you.’ Klaus knew that Caroline hated him being around other Omegas especially alone and that included Y/n, even though he knew her scent and she wasn’t his mate, Caroline didn’t seem to care. She hated him around Y/n most of all, even more than strangers.

‘You clearly don’t know your girlfriend very well.’ She mumbled, arms crossed and leaning away from him against the door in a position that looked painful with how far away she was trying to get.

‘I don’t know how many times I can tell people this, she is Not my girlfriend! Yes, we sleep together sometimes but it’s only ever been because I hate being alone that we’ve hung out together. I feel like I’ve made it very clear to everyone that I’m waiting for my mate and she…she just doesn’t care. It’s honestly annoying, she doesn’t care what I like and don’t like, she does what she wants, like sleeping with me in my bed. I’ve told her not to a billion times but does she listen? No, she just climbs into my bed when I’m drunk as hell and fucks me. She always tells people we’re together and makes me look like an ass when I tell people we’re not. I don’t…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to rant to you like that, I…I’m sorry.’

‘Klaus…you don’t need to be sorry. I didn’t know, she always said…I didn’t know you were looking for your mate. I-fuck…I’m so sorry.’ Y/n wanted to tell him but after all these years she didn’t know how to…sadly it seemed, she didn’t need to because the universe was going to do it for her. The suppressants that Omegas take need to be ingested within the same hour everyday or they stop working almost immediately, needing a constant supply in their body to keep their scent and heat away. Y/n takes hers every morning before classes at 7am, it was now 8 and as her watch began beeping she moved to turn it off quickly.

‘It’s not your fault, it’s mine. I should have dropped her years ago, I was just scared of not having anyone anymore. The people I hang out with are Caroline’s friends other than Elijah and he’ll do what Katherine says, so will you and Bonnie and I just…I put up with it.’

‘Klaus! She’s sexually assaulting you just so that she can live in a fantasy world where you love her, no one would drop you for that kind of crazy! I…I thought you loved her-I thought…I’m so sorry.’ She couldn’t stop saying it, feeling the need to apologize a billion more times.

Klaus put the car in park as he pulled up outside of her dorm. ‘Please don’t apologize? I’m not-what…what is that smell?’ He questioned and Y/n went rigid.

‘I have to go! I’m not feeling great, I’m just gonna stay in today! Thanks for the ride!’ She rushed her words out before nearly breaking her neck jumping from the truck and slamming the door, sprinting into the dorm leaving Klaus confused and alone to piece things together.

In his defense it only took him a moment of smelling the astounding scent and thinking about what she said and why she was apologizing to figure it all out, the key clue being his forming knot from smelling his Omega for the first time. He was out of the car and in the building in record time before sprinting down the hall to her room, opening the door and seeing her on her bed, tears streaming as she tried to open a pill bottle. Klaus rushed to grab the bottle from her and took it to the bathroom, pouring them into the toilet, Y/n trying to grab the bottle from him.

‘What did you do?!’ She cried, pathetically punching at him for a moment as he flushed them before allowing him to pull her to him and cry against his strong chest. He carried her back into her room and to her nest, allowing her to cry as long as she needed, content as he took in her scent, in a way he never thought he could be. ‘I’m sorry I hit you.’ She mumbled, her voice hoarse from crying.

‘It’s alright. Do you feel better now?’ She shook her head, moving to pull away but he held her tight. ‘Why didn’t you tell me Y/n? You’re my Omega, the most important thing in the world for me-for us…what did you think I was going to do?’

‘I was already on the suppressants when I started school here. When I realized you were…well-‘

‘Your Alpha. You can say it. I’m your Alpha, and you’re my Omega.’ She nodded, looking up at him unsure before he kissed her head.

‘I told Caroline about it as soon as I realized and she said you two were together. That you were in love and I…I didn’t want to ruin that for you. Plenty of people don’t wait for their mates and when she said you had given up looking I just…I wanted you to be happy. She always made it seem like you were and…I’m so sorry!

‘No. No more of that. She lied to us both…no more hiding. Okay?’ Y/n nodded and Klaus pulled her close before pressing his lips to hers. She hesitated but as he tightened his grip on her waist her body melted into his, 4 years of suffering with her Alphas scent under her nose and unable to be with him finally being over. ‘I’m sorry that you had to suffer through that, I should have rid myself of her a long time ago. I’m scared of being alone…it’s embarrassing to admit but putting up with her abuse and crazy bullshit was easier than…I’m-‘

‘If you say “sorry” I’m going to spank you.’ His eyes widened, a smile spreading across his face that he could not stop. ‘She hurt you, she lied to you and she-she assaulted you. We both fucked up but I’m happy to blame it all on Caroline since that’s where it all started and as soon as I see her face I’m going to cave it in for ever hurting my Alpha.’ She growled angrily.

‘That was the cutest little growl. Oh my God, you’re so precious!’ He coo’ed, pulling her close to kiss her again just before his phone began ringing. They both groaned, knowing whose ringtone it was as it sang Material Girl by Madonna and Klaus pulled his phone out, silencing the call, kissing her again. He had just pulled her to straddle his lap when her phone began to ring.

‘Okay, you know what? This is just going off.’ She rejected the call, blocking Caroline’s number and turning off her phone, her Alpha laughing and joining her immediately.

‘She’s going to lose her mind.’ He laughed, feeling a tad giddy, enjoying the idea of making her as upset as she constantly made him. ‘You smell wonderful, you know that?’ His nose found it’s way back to her neck and he enjoyed the little giggle she let slip, usually being so quiet. ‘Don’t you ever hide this from me again…wanna scent you for the rest of my life.’

‘Whenever you want Alpha, all yours.’ She purred, snuggling in close.

‘It won’t be long now that you missed the suppressants, your heat will probably start by tomorrow.’ He told her, moving to take off her jacket and shoes as well as his own before pulling the comforter over them in the already chilled room but making a mental note to make it colder as she would probably begin sweating in the night. Good thing about Omega dorms, they always (legally have to) have amazing air conditioning units. All Omega dorms had to have the option of killer AC with how hot they get at all times but especially during their heat. Her nest was cozy and wonderfully scented, he would be shocked if he could ever summon the willpower to leave it.

‘Please don’t leave? I don’t-‘

‘No Omega, I’m not going anywhere. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want but I will be here to take care of you. I’m going to do it right now, I promise. For now, you need to sleep. You’re hung over, dehydrated and sleep deprived, drink for me.’ He instructed as he got a bottle of water from the mini fridge beside the bed and had her drink half of it.

‘Don’t torture yourself okay?’ He looked at her questioningly, not understanding what she meant. ‘I want you, don’t get all dumb wondering if I would want you to touch me, you can help me through it…if you want to.’ She rushed out and Klaus just smiled. ‘I know maybe being with someone is uncomfortable for you and if all you want is to just be here with me then that’s okay, don’t torture yourself either way.’

Klaus was touched. Not only was she willing to trust him to do as her Alpha should and rut her through her heat but she is willing to suffer without it if he isn’t comfortable after everything Caroline had done to him. ‘No one has ever been that understanding before. I’m okay, I promise, I will always take care of you Omega…I’ve been looking for you for so long and you’ve been here under my nose for 4 years…you’re mine now. I’m stealing you and you’re gonna come and live with me. Got my fathers huge house in Damascus Virginia in the mountains, small town, quiet…everything you want if I remember correctly?’ Y/n was instantly stunned that he had remembered that. ‘I always paid attention. Didn’t like Caroline being cruel to you, turns out she always was anyway and she was using me to do it…‘

‘Virginia it is. Nice place to have a family.’ Klaus’ eyes widen at that thought.

‘You want to have my pups?’ She nodded and he groaned, feeling his cock swell as he pulled her closer, her back now against his chest. ‘I admit, I’ve thought about you swollen with my pups before, look so fucking gorgeous! Gonna be the death of me, Omega…just let your Alpha hold you baby. You need rest before your heat, can’t have you feeling even worse, can I?’

‘My good Alpha, so sweet to me.’ She turned to bury her face into Klaus’ chest and he groaned, holding her to him tightly and waiting until he heard that soft little snore that he knew she made before allowing himself to fall asleep.

They were both awoken (according to the clock) 2 hours later to a loud banging on the door.

‘The TA will make her stop if we just ignore it, it’s alright.’ Klaus mumbled, assuming it was Caroline as he pulled a blanket over their heads before hearing a familiar voice.

‘Niklaus! I know you’re in there, your phone is off! What’s going on, come on?!’ Klaus huffed, kissing her head and moving to speak to Elijah, only to open the door and find his brother along with his girlfriend and Caroline who looked ready to spit venom.

‘Really Elijah? You knew I was avoiding her and you did this? This is why I don’t trust you!’ He growled, moving to slam the door before Caroline caught it, shoving her way in.

‘You! You stole my mate, you little Knot-Hole!’ Everyone in the room reacted to that, even Elijah and Kat being shocked at the derogatory slur that is not permitted on school grounds-let alone to be used to others mates and doing so has gotten people really hurt.

‘If you ever call her that again...’ Klaus warned, stepping around her to get between them when she got too close to the bed. ‘Do not touch her nest, get the fuck out of our room. I don’t need to tell you anything about Y/n and I because you and I were never together. I am not, nor have I ever been your boyfriend, let alone your mate you delusional cunt!’

‘You’re just being cruel now!’ She cried, trying to get sympathy as always though even Kat was unsure what to do after what Caroline had called their friend-another Omega at that. An Omega using that word at all-let alone against another Omega was unheard of.

‘We never dated! Not once, for one singular day! I fucked you because I was lonely and you were fun for a while and I don’t care how cruel that sounds because you knew the deal from day 1. That wasn’t what you wanted though because then you told everyone we were mates even though you knew I was desperately searching for my real Omega, and you kept crawling into my bed which you knew I hated. Then you started fucking me when I was too drunk to push you off just so you could sleep with me without me shoving you away and “treating you like a simple fuck”! And Now I Find Out-You’ve been Lying to Y/n about us to keep her from telling me the truth for 4 years! She’s my Omega! Not a fun night, not a girlfriend to waste time with, My Omega! You’re a manipulative, slutty cunt and I want you out of our room and out of my life! You can also be damn sure I will be telling everyone exactly what you are.’

‘Yeah, a fucking rapist…’ Y/n scoffed, Caroline glaring and baring her fangs at the shy girl that she knew would never defend herself.

‘Shut your lying, thief mouth! You Stole my Alpha! What kind of a friend are you-‘

‘You stole mine for 4 years, right back at you whore.’ Everyone was shocked in that moment, never having heard the sweet creature say anything like that before.

‘Oh. Now that you have what’s mine behind you, you think you’re all big and bad? No, you’re still a useless little Fuckhole that nobody has ever wanted. He’ll come back to me when he realizes how useless you are-‘ Caroline was cut off as her ex best friend launched herself forward from the nest and took her to the floor, beating her violently and digging her claws into her face in a vicious attack.

‘You’re a dirty fucking rapist and if you ever come near him again I will cut you up so bad they’ll never get all the pieces together again, you filthy fucking whore-I-‘

She got no more words out as her Alphas arms wrapped around her and lifted her off the bloody mess that Caroline once called a face. ‘Enough Omega, Shh, it’s okay. She’s going, you’re alright!’ He put her back into her nest and grabbed the baby wipes he kept in his bag for his future Omega (along with hair ties, chapstick and a pad for surprise heat symptoms), quickly beginning to clean off the blood from her claws.

Neither Elijah nor Katherine moved to help Caroline no matter how much she whined. ‘Kat…’

‘Don’t Kat me, I’m not having you think you can climb on top of my man next. Get the fuck away from me.’ She growled, grabbing the blonde by her hair and dragging her into the hallway, Klaus moving to watch the Omega be dropped in a pathetic pile in the dorm hall. ‘I was recording cause I thought it would be funny to watch Klaus get told off but I’ll give it to the cops cause she definitely needs an ambulance.’ Katherine chuckled maliciously. ‘I’m sorry for everything Klaus, I wish you would have just told us the truth, we would have gotten rid of her years ago. You and I may not be best friends but we’re family and that shit is not okay.’ Kat moved to hug him, stopping 3 steps away as Y/n hissed out a warning that was instantly enough.

‘We’ll deal with the police. They won’t bother you until her heat is over. Text me if you need anything, I’ll bring you your meals for the week, least I can do.’ Elijah offered and Klaus agreed.

‘Thank you brother. If you could bring some protein bars and some juice later tonight, that would be great, I need to rehydrate her after last night.’

‘Of course. I’ll bring some of your favorite snacks too. Anything else, just t-‘ Elijah cut himself off, his eyes dilating as he was overcome with a thick, heavy scent coming from the nest that he was the closest to, Klaus moving to grab him and shove him out at a breakneck speed.

‘Text me when you’re here later tonight, bring me some of my clothes and my fan from my dorm room as well.’ He rushed out before shutting the door behind him. He knew air blowing directly on her as she’s like this would be good for her and as he turned around and noticed her sweating he’s glad he did. ‘Your heat hit you faster than we expected, huh?’ Klaus teased and Y/n just whined making grabby hands at him before he pulled off his clothes and crawled into the nest. ‘Don’t worry Omega, Alpha is here for you-‘

‘Knot! Knot Alpha! Need it, Please?!’ She pleaded, moving to present herself for him only to have him stop her and pin her on her back. It wasn’t the best position to ensure pregnancy but that didn’t matter to him, he needed to care for his Omega and they hadn’t been together once yet. He refused to take her like that the first time. ‘Alpha-‘

‘Shh…relax pet. I’m right here. Alphas gonna give you what you want.’ He promised, as he kissed her lips softly, lining his cock up with her soaking wet pussy and easing in, keeping her hips from forcing him deeper. His knot was already swelling and Klaus pulled her legs up to bottom out inside of her, her hips humping up into him. ‘Is my pretty Omega gonna cum on my cock already? Such a needy little thing.’ He teased as if he wasn’t seconds from spewing his own end which is exactly what happened 10 seconds later when she squeezed him almost painfully, his knot locking into place as it’s supposed to.

‘Yes…my knot…mine-‘

‘All yours Princess-nobody else’s-never given it to anybody. Alphas gonna knot you so much tonight people won’t know where you start and I end…all mine. No one will ever keep you from me again Omega, I promise.’

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist

[leviraaaaaa]

All that's left.

“I know you’re there.”

Levi's voice cut through the stillness, startling you. You’d been watching him from the side of the wreckage, watching as the ghosts of your comrades appeared for one last time, one last salute. One last declaration of all they dedicated. One last goodbye. They had met your gaze too, shooting a small sad smile and you knew what it meant.

You two were all that's left. The last one's standing.

You stayed out of his sight even after they disappeared, giving him the privacy to mourn. God knows he needed it. You didn’t think he had noticed your presence, but then again, who were you trying to fool? His extraordinary instincts were never to be underestimated.

With a sigh, you pushed yourself to stand straight and stumbled forward, trying not to put too much weight on the ankle you had injured. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eyes. Ever resilient, ever strong, the cracks were so slight, just barely there. But you knew. You could always tell.

“Hi.” You mumbled. He stared at you as you dragged yourself in front of him.

“Nice of you to make it out alive.” He said.

“Who would’ve thought?” You shrugged.

“You made an ugly titan by the way.”

“I’m sure you would’ve looked charming.”

“Bet.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. The conversation was so unbelievably normal, it was surreal. Like nothing ever happened. Here, amid the ruins of everything, all the corpses, smoke, blood and destruction—here you were, back to how it always was. Almost as if, if you concentrated hard enough, all of it would go away and you’d find you and him back in the soggy cafeteria of the scout headquarters, back to bantering with him and arguing about silly little things that don't really deserve arguments but it’s you and Levi so of course it’d end up an argument.

You felt so old suddenly.

How come you ended up here? In this way?

And Levi looked so tired, you could cry. Hasn’t he given enough? Doesn’t he get to rest now?

“Does that..” You glanced down at his leg, the one he had spread out in front of him. It was clear it was beyond repair. The fabric of his pants were torn at the knee, from where it was crushed between the titan’s jaw, a bloody, mangled mess. “Does that hurt?”

“Not really, no.” His eyes followed your gaze. “Numbed a while ago. Can’t feel shit really.”

You sighed. "Not very humanity's strongest anymore, huh?"

Levi raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?" He said. "Careful, I could still kick your ass."

"I'm sure."

You grinned. Then went ahead and dropped yourself beside him. He frowned.

“Shouldn’t we be getting up?” He said. “Why are you getting comfortable?”

“Why not?” You muttered, pulling your legs upto your chest, hugging them. “What’s it matter what we do or not? Armin’s the hot shit now, let him deal with everything.” Your head throbbed as you buried them in your knees. "We're too fucking old now anyways,"

He didn’t argue, but he made no attempt to get up either. If anything, he looked more relaxed. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to spend the rest of your life here. After all, you were so tired, and you were sure he was too. This was as good as anywhere else would be.

Because there’s no home to return to anymore.

“Do you think there’s anything left of Hange to bury?” He suddenly said.

You shuddered. What do you answer to that?

Your head pounded so hard, you couldn’t really think. Far away, somewhere in the distance, you could hear someone yelling at another someone, but you couldn’t bother to pay attention to the words. Armin and the others would figure something out surely.

You were exhausted.

“Say, Levi.” You said tiredly, nudging him slightly.

“What?”

“Wanna get married?”

Levi almost choked, he was suddenly all uptight, stiff as a board as he looked at you with wide eyes.

“What the fuck?” He asked, looking mildly horrified. “Are you seriously gonna make jokes here? Here?”

“Not joking.”

You lifted up your head, tilting it to look at him. It was hard to tell whether he was annoyed or flustered. Maybe both. "Not joking at all," You sighed. You’re not sure where the sudden boldness came from, but this is as good a time as any. Might as well. “You’re right. It’s a bad time to make jokes. So I’m dead serious.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am.” You nodded, turning your expression very serious.

“You’re weird as fuck.” He muttered out after several failed attempts to speak. The tips of his ears turned red, red as it always did whenever you used to jokingly suggest that he should date you. Except you weren’t really joking anymore. In fact, you haven’t been joking for a long, long time.

“I mean..” You closed your eyes. You were too tired to even feel embarrassed. “We’re the only ones left. Me and you. You’re all I have left, Levi. So, why not?”

He gasped at you for a long moment. Then he started shaking his head. “You’re insane.”

“You’re just realizing that?”

“No.” He muttered. “You’re insane. And it’s rubbing off on me.”

He paused for a long time, his one good eye searching your intensely, as if he was considering something. And finally, he made up his mind.

“You’re insane. And I’m no fucking different.” He sighed. “I must’ve hit my head pretty damn hard because I’m actually considering this shit.”

You grinned. “Go on, say it. You like me.”

“Wrong. I tolerate you.”

“Good enough. You don’t tolerate a lot of people, so I’ll take it as I'm special.”

He sighed, turning away, hoping that’s enough to hide his heart from you. You were special to him, always. But you didn’t need to know that. He didn’t want you to know that. He didn’t know how to let you know that.

“Can you believe us?” He scoffed instead. “We’re practically sitting in a graveyard. Half the world’s ruined but then there’s us.”

“That’s fine. Let’s keep being us. The world can go fuck itself. Meanwhile, we can—”

“Do not finish that sentence.” He glared.

You couldn’t help it—you laughed. A deep, aching laugh that left you gasping for air and brought tears to your eyes. And for the briefest moment, Levi’s lips twitched into something resembling a smile.

“We’re insane.” You admitted, still breathless. With that, you pushed yourself up, stumbling a little before you found your balance. You reached out your hand to Levi, who took it without question.

“Come on, Lev.” You pulled him up, letting him wrap an arm around you to brace himself. “Let’s go home.”

You were right, Levi thinks as he limped with you, letting you support him. It was nice to finally let himself lean on someone.

You two are the only ones left.

You’re all he has now.

The world has taken enough from him. He’s so tired of letting go.

And he’d be damned if he let you go too.

[ubeb0nes]

Sevika x fem!bar owner!reader

Pt. 2

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a/n: sorry this took so long lmao. I completely scrapped the first version i wrote of this because it just got too damn long

regardless, we're here now and i hope you enjoy!!

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"So… what is it exactly that you do?"

You'd asked her the question on yet another night where she'd stayed extra late, long after the last patrons had bid you a good night (or very early morning) and all the chairs had gone up.

(Sevika had put them up, even after you'd distinctly told her not to before you went into the kitchen. Your fault, really)

She ponders the question, wondering if you're playing at something more or really just asking. She knows you're smart. It's why she likes you. But she just doesn't know how smart.

"I hurt people, usually," she said casually. If the answer offended you, you displayed the opposite of it.

Your glasses clinking was the only sound to clash with the jukebox, ringing in a gentle sense of understanding on your part.

"A lucrative business here," you say.

"In the long-term. Better be, at least."

For someone who's known as The Lioness of the Lanes, it's a while before you ever see her lion'ing about or whatnot.

She's never violent in your establishment. But you know bad people, you know how to pick up someone's capacity for violence. Sevika has a huge one.

But you understand quickly that there's a reason she's called 'Lioness' and not 'hyena', or something. Her violence is never undue. If she bares her teeth, it's to protect.

Physical altercations aren't at all uncommon in your bar. It's the Undercity after all, these things happen but people always move on from it quickly.

You've noticed that people always seem to... "act right" whenever Sevika's at your bar that night. The meanest-looking men in your bar straighten their posture when she walks by their table, others greeting her with a nod of respect (or submission).

"Wow. I'm glad you like me, at least," you say as she sits down, right in front of you like always.

"Says who?" And she always gives that smug little smile when you laugh in response.

While she's watched/admired you put more than one customer on their ass for trying to cause a scene in your establishment, it's always with a protective posture.

She goes into guard dog mode the moment you cross out from behind the protection of your bar to tell a drunkard off. Her poker buddies poke fun at her for it.

She intervenes before you even get the chance to one time. Perhaps it's because the man keeps drunkenly bumping into her shoulder, or because his boisterous voice keeps causing her head to snap over to him.

You're busy laughing at her expense when the man turns his antics on you. You're perfectly content to brush off whatever rudeness he spouts at you, but Sevika clearly isn't when her hand shoots out and grabs the back of his neck.

He'd called you a dumbass or something of the sort in a more distasteful manner when you'd cut him off. Sevika's eyes had flared with a personal, wrathful anger before she'd grabbed him by the scruff.

"You know better," she snaps. It would be as if she were lecturing a child if it weren't for the man's face pressed against the bar. She's pressing him into the surface with nothing but the strength of her human arm, her large body looming over his as he slurs out an apology.

God, you wished she would grab you like that- who said that??

The next time she comes in, you insist her whiskey's on the house.

"Consider it compensation for dealing with that guy last night." She rolls her eyes at you as she lights her cigarillo on the lighter you offer, and throws a few bills on the bartop anyway (hot).

You throw them back at her with a playful glare, and subsequently earn yourself a real one. You feel a shiver run down your spine that's for any reason but fear.

"Don't play this game with me, you'll lose." To you, that really didn't sound all that bad.

Before you can even think, she's leaning forward and tucking the bills into the pocket of your apron in the middle of your sternum. The look she wears is challenging as she sits back, almost expectant of a reaction.

You don't disappoint, reaching out with two fingers to pluck the cigarillo from her lips and taking your own drag. Your eyes never leave hers, watching her shamelessly stare at that damn cigarillo with a burning jealousy.

"Hm. I picked a good brand, didn't I?" "Yeah, yeah, hand it back before you choke, princess."

You try not to let it get to your head (and heart) how it makes you feel when she calls you that, or any other name like 'baby', 'sweetheart', or 'beautiful'.

And you try not to let it get to your head how you seem to be the only one here who she calls those things.

Neither of you had any idea how hopelessly hers you already were.

While Sevika's "occupation" slowly becomes clearer to you, the amount of energy she puts into protecting you is completely out of sight and mind.

She tries to convince herself that her reasoning for continually lying in Silco's face is purely pragmatic; you're good for the community, providing a warm reprieve for the kids in the city against the harsh reality of Silco's slow revolution. As far as she's concerned, Zaun profits more from your continued thriving than any amount of money she could intimidate out of you.

The idea of ever coming into your bar for collections makes her a little sick, if she's honest. Never you. It's far too late for that now.

So when Silco sends her to do exactly that (because you're just that savvy at running your business), she feels her heart churn. She can only say no to Silco so many times and in so many ways. There's no way around this one without raising his suspicions, and she doesn't have the backing to combat that yet.

Your unfailing smile when you see her comes in makes her want to punch her own face in. She hates that she's fond of you.

"Hey good-lookin', you're late! What kept y-" "I'm here on business this time." "O..oh...?"

She explains Silco's tax with a coldness you've grown unfamiliar with from her. You take it like you would a slap to the face, growing angry before you can risk feeling sad.

"Sevika, what the hell is this? I've minded my damn business ever since I opened, the hell did I do to piss him off?" "It isn't personal, princess. You asked me what I do. I don't think I ever gave you the impression it was pretty." "If I knew petty extortion was what freedom-fighting meant to you, then I would've kept those cigs for myself."

You don't give her much more room to say anything after that before you're throwing a bag of coins at her and telling her to get the fuck out. She expected as much. You were hardy and quick to adapt, just like Zaun.

Sevika's done plenty of things in the name of a better future that she isn't proud of. But your money seemed to burn a hole through her hand, and the sting didn't fade even after she'd dropped it on Silco's desk.

"Good work," he said flippantly, as if she didn't always do good work. Go to hell.

She imagines it's your hand holding her lighter when she smokes through nearly half a pack later that night.

The soft voice of a shelved version of her whispers that maybe just this once, she should fight for something only she wants.

She tries to push away the thought and reason that it was always going to end up this way anyways, while you close down the bar for the night alone.