#if you’re my boss ignore the nap part

[abbenai]

i love watching regular show. especially now that i have a parks job like i see those funky little animals drive a golf cart around to pick up trash and experience horrors beyond their comprehension and nap on the clock and im like. haha i do that

[synthetickitsune]

Ashes Settle, Left Behind ✧ y.jh [part 1]

Pairing: Yoon Jeonghan x ghost!reader (gn) Genre: horror-ish angst Summary: Everything eventually comes to an end. Life. Love. Even marriage only lasts until death do us apart. So why should a soul bond be any different? Word count: 10k Warnings: a lot of inaccuracies that we shall all ignore for the sake of the plot (pretty please), mentions of fire, jeonghan has an invisible stalker basically A/N: Things got a little out of hand but lately that's all they do when it comes to me and writing lmao... Anyway, excited to finally be sharing the first part of my addition for @svthub's world tour collab! It ended up being more fun (and longer) than I expected and the second part hopefully shouldn't take too long now - unless I feel like torturing these two more. Also shoutout to @wooahaeproductions for helping me find out about the fire of Seattle that started all this! -> svthub world tour masterlist -> [part 2] (coming soon!)

You feel a shift in the air.

As if a tomb was opened and you could breathe again, see the world again. You see the light at the end of a tunnel. You let it envelope you.

You take a breath but the air doesn’t reach your lungs. You feel light and airy. Not held down by gravity; your lungs not weighted down by ashes and smoke.

You raise your hands and see. See - but not yourself. Just a blur. Like looking at the world through water.

Your body’s not there.

Just a ghost. A lingering memory someone dreamed up after an eternity.

It takes an effort to come to terms with your existence. Again. With a completely new form, in a new time. You’re not sure what’s a bigger shock - your ethereal self or how much everything changed. 

You can’t wander out, caged in another memory kept preserved in the bones of the city you lived in. 

The people are different. The technology is different. It’s hard to understand, but you have nothing better to do than watch the people who come in and walk through the graveyard that is your home. And you learn. It’s not much, but it’s enough.

The modern world is easy to grasp, but life… not so much. There’s only one thing that’s for certain: something changed. 

Something made the change happen. You have no explanation as to how or why. But you know one thing. He has returned.

As if you’ve been longing for eternity, you feel so relieved you could cry.

You can clearly visualize it. Him bursting in through the door, embracing you and spinning with you in his arms with that pretty and carefree smile.

He’s coming home. Finally, he’s coming home again.

You should get the dinner started…

But…

The kitchen burned down.

The house burned down.

The city burned down.

Usually he’d be cursing his alarm right about now, but today Jeonghan is already awake and sipping coffee by the window of his little shop.

Despite only having slept a couple hours, he feels energized and ready to face the day. He’s sure the exhaustion would catch up with him later, but the benefit of being his own boss and living right above his workplace is that he could always spend his lunch break napping in the comfort of his bed if he needed to. Although he isn’t sure he’d manage to keep his eyes closed or get a decent sleep until he figured out his battle plan.

What battle?

Figuring out the decoration for the upcoming city festival. The thought alone makes him breathe deeply and bite back a smile.

It was made very clear throughout the negotiations that he and his shop wasn’t the first choice; the general mood was more along the lines of you’ll have to do because no one else would accept an offer this low. But Jeonghan truthfully didn’t mind, he didn’t even mind the low pay even though it’d barely make him any profit. It was an opportunity to put himself and his business out there and show what he and his team are capable of. 

Having only tipped their toes into the waters of providing decorations for big events, this was huge. There was nothing he loved more than making bouquets for his customers and bringing smiles to faces that he sometimes couldn’t even see, but he also craved success. Not to mention that if his shop got contracted for more deals like this (with better pay, hopefully), he could likely afford to take better care of the people helping him, which was ultimately a stronger drive to make it big than the status of a successful business owner.

“Someone’s up early.” 

He turns in the direction of the voice and sees Joshua and Seungkwan walking in, both with a cup of coffee in their hands. Seeing them, he feels like he could work nonstop for weeks, all the way until the festival.

If everything goes well, maybe they could start doing weddings. Joshua is always going on about wanting to design and make someone's wedding bouquet. He'd be ecstatic if they got the opportunity. Most of them would be, Jeonghan thinks. He's seen some of Jihoon's ideas scribbled on loose pages around the shop. They were perfect, some fit for a neat modern wedding, others straight out of fairytale. Seungkwan daydreams of making little flower crowns for the flower girls and flower boys. 

Weren’t they simply meant to do weddings? It's not an easy business venture to get into, but with the festival... It's a good opportunity. Or maybe he’s just too hopeful.

"Good morning" he greets his friends with a warm smile. "It's gonna be a busy day so why not start straight away?"

"Someone's in a good mood," Seungkwan teases, but he's smiling too. 

The morning routine is a breeze with one extra person. Eventually, Seokmin and Jihoon come in and join too as they all agreed to meet and plan for the big event ahead. The back room is cramped with all of them gathered - another sign they need to make a lot of money and expand.

Although Jeonghan likes it this way, likes how cozy the main space of the shop is.

“Is there any theme they want? Colors, aesthetic?” Joshua asks, “It’d be much easier if there was.”

“No,” Jeonghan sighs, “They didn’t mention anything, so I guess we’re free to do whatever. It’s a history faire so I guess they have no idea either.”

“So something that will survive drunk dudes pissing in it for anything that’s not hanging in the air it is,” Seungkwan claps his hands like it’s a done deal, turning the attention of everyone to himself.

“Don’t ruin your boss’ illusions, dude,” Seokmin scolds him immediately, whisper-shouting as if Jeonghan couldn’t hear.

“He’s right though,” Jihoon points out with a shrug. Jeonghan pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Let’s dream a little and aim for aesthetic over functionality, shall we,” he sighs, “Bushes and weeds might be practical and local but let’s take this opportunity seriously.”

He gives Joshua a sharp glare before he can speak up. He knows his friend isn’t entirely on board with this thing ever since he heard about the details of the meeting Jeonghan attended. He’s not stupid, he knows they’re not taken seriously and that, realistically, it will be a miracle if anyone cares what they do for the decorations. It is a good way to advertise themselves though. 

“We should do something fun,” Seokmin interrupts their little staring contest, “We could make something nice and historical.”

Jeonghan thought about the same thing, the issue is…

“Flowers aren’t really known to last long, you know,” Jihoon points out, “That’s their beauty.”

“It might be a challenge to find any historical inspiration,” Joshua hums in thought, “But it would be cool if we pulled it off.”

Everyone seems to agree, and it shouldn’t be a surprise. After all, Jeonghan's main goal whenever he was hiring was to create a team of people that would fit well together. He didn’t want them to feel like coworkers, and he couldn’t be happier that it truly feels like they’re friends first and colleagues second.

The idea grows and transforms. The idea of teambuilding is thrown around a lot, even though it sounds more like an excuse to hang out instead of doing actual research and hunting for ideas. Some suggestions are better than others, some more logical than others, but Jeonghan decides to sit back and relax. Whatever they do, he’s confident the end result will be great. They’ll do well. Even if this whole thing turns into one big hang out under the guise of working. It might do them well to have fun without any worries. There’s gonna be plenty of time for that later.

The scene is all too familiar. You feel it just as you did those twenty-something years ago, although who really keeps track.

The light returning to your life. The world welcoming you back. It feels like it’s opening its arms to you now.

His arms. The safety, the security. The love. You yearn.

You feel it now almost physically; truly an oxymoron in your predicament.

You kept looking for him in the strange faces coming day after day, but it was never him. Not until now.

He’s coming home.

He’s close.

It makes your whole being tingle, like a magnet drawn to another, like a moth flying too close to a flame yet unable to pull back.

You feel the shift in the air. A rush of fresh breeze carrying the scent of wildflowers and the scent of the meadow where he stole your first kiss.

He’s here.

“This is stupid,” Jeonghan grumbles. His arms are crossed over his chest and there’s a displeased wrinkle between his brows. He wasn’t prepared for the sudden temperature drop between outside and here.

“Inspiration is a mysterious thing,” Joshua smooths that wrinkle away and chuckles, “Besides this is research. And that was your idea if I remember correctly.”

“My idea,” Jeonghan hisses, “Was googling a bunch of stuff and then deciding what had the chance of best results. Not going on a history tour that will be useless.”

“It’s more authentic. We’re going to breathe in the atmosphere of the old city,” the other man shrugs, “And c’mon, can you believe we’ve never been on one of these?”

Yes. Yes, he’s perfectly willing to believe so, because these tours are for tourists and history nuts and they’re neither. They have a flower shop for god’s sake. 

He doesn’t say that aloud, however, because the tour guide appears and as grumpy as the cold might be making him, and as spiteful he might feel towards Joshua for dragging him here so early in the morning on their day off, he won’t spoil the mood. So he schools his expression into a curious smile and listens to the introduction.

It’s not too bad once he gets into it. Although it does absolutely nothing so far as searching for anything decoration-related goes and inspiration is yet to hit him, it’s interesting. More so than he expected. And Joshua being Joshua reads his mind well enough that he asks the questions Jeonghan is also curious about. The younger man gives him a knowing smile whenever Jeonghan nods along to the guide’s explanation. He rolls his eyes at him.

The tour is really nice - unexpectedly, they also discover a half-burned photograph of a couple with flower baskets behind them and also a newspaper clip with a photo of something that looked like a faire with flowers decorating the streets that his companion excitedly pointed out to him. Not that either of these were clear enough to get any real inspiration, but hey, at least they will have something to report back to the guys.

However, as the tour progresses, an uneasy feeling grows in Jeonghan’s stomach. He’s never had any real issue with claustrophobia, so he doesn’t think that’s it. Human bodies are weird though, and their minds even more so. He’s stronger than some irrational fear trying to pull a trick on him. Is it really a phobia though? Is phobia supposed to make him anxious to his bones and hit him with nausea that feels like a cold hand squeezing his stomach? His knees feel like they’ll buckle under him any moment now.

“Hey, Han, are you alright?”

He jumps and only the lump in his throat stops him from yelping when Joshua grabs his shoulder. He’s frowning.

“Sorry, is there anywhere my friend can sit down for a minute?”

He hears his friend speak but the words don’t really register in his mind. He lets himself be led to the side and sat down on a chair. He feels faint. His head is spinning. He barely hears whatever Joshua is saying.

He’s here.

He’s alive.

And in turn, his life makes you remember what it felt like to live.

You don’t need to breathe but in the instant you see him, you forget you ever could.

He looks different, but you’d recognize him anywhere.

His hair is longer. It looks good on him, framing his face like a dark halo. He looks like an angel. Did he come to save you?

The clothes he’s wearing make him seem out of place just like the rest of the group. Just a tourist in a place that he should call home. That he once did call home. You don’t recognize the man next to him, and your heart pangs. His friends used to be yours too.

You move closer without realizing. It feels like your entire body is pulsing with life long forgotten; with a heartbeat you no longer have.

He doesn’t look good.

He seems to feel unwell. The closer you get, the more it seems to hurt him. Love truly is violence.

The man next to him calls his name.

You repeat it. It’s different. It feels different on your tongue, yet it doesn’t feel unfamiliar. You suppose that just comes with the territory.

He looks like he’s about to lose consciousness. You can’t just watch him getting hurt.

You move closer, grabbing onto his arm the second before he can fall.

He doesn’t. Instead he suddenly straightens as shiver runs through his body. He seems disoriented when he looks through you. Almost like he can tell that’s where you are.

You’re dragged along with him by his friend. Even though you’re right in front of his face, he doesn’t see you. He looks like he’s about to faint. Pearls of cold sweat forming on his forehead, his teeth chattering and face deadly pale. His friend moves right through you when he crouches down in front of him.

“Jeonghan? Can you hear me?” he taps your lover’s leg without any reaction, “What’s going on?”

“Breathe,” you whisper. Like a magic trick, he does. He gasps for air like he’s drowning on dry land and his friend panics, shooting up to his feet and shaking his shoulder. 

“Slowly. You don’t belong to me yet,” there’s a bitter smile on your face when again he follows your instructions. Not yet.

It’s a strange and nauseating feeling. You don’t wish him death, but you long to hold and be held. His soul recognizes yours, it yearns for you too. But will his heart? Would his heart?

“Shua?” Jeonghan asks, brows furrowed and eyes vacant. He looks dazed, the color still drained from his face.

“Han? Can you hear me?” the man - Shua - tries again.

“Yeah,” your lover rubs his face, “Yeah, sorry. I don’t know what happened.”

“You scared me, man,” the other man sighs, “How do you feel?”

“Good, I’m good now. Isn’t it cold here?” Jeonghan rubs his arms, trying to get the feeling back in them as he stands up. Shua looks ready to catch him if he loses strength again and you feel a sense of pride. He always knew to choose his friends well.

“Yeah, I guess it’s a bit chilly,” Shua responds, apprehensive, and clearly not trusting Jeonghan’s legs not to give up on him again.

“We should head up,” Jeonghan says and tries to orient himself. You can’t let him go. His friend frowns. The temperature didn’t change since they entered, only Jeonghan did - you did. You latch onto his arm. You hold him like he’s the ghost that could disappear at any moment. 

His skin is warm under your touch. He shivers and looks at his arm, right where you hold him, before passing a hand over it. His fingers slip right through you. Nothing helps him chase away the cool sensation it seems.

“I’m not sure, Han,” Shua hesitates, “It’s pretty hot up there and you seem kind of… I don’t want you to feel worse because of the heat.”

“I’ll be fine,” Jeonghan manages a smile. The same smile you used to see every day.

“Are you sure? I don’t know about you but I can’t afford any hospital bill,” his friend jokes, earning himself an eye roll.

Tears burn at your eyes. His friends were always like that - caring, kind, but with a mischievous heart.

“Alright, lemme just check with the guide that it’s okay for us to just leave,” Shua finally concedes, seeing as your lover won’t budge. Jeonghan gives him a nod (and a smile when the man hesitates again - Jeonghan even sits down to finally get him going).

It’s just you and him.

He sighs. As he massages his arm to get some feeling back in it, his warm palm passes through you once more. He grimaces. Can he perhaps feel you? It doesn’t matter how little. Can he tell you’re with him? You know it’s selfish, so so selfish. But you crave acknowledgement. After so long, after waiting for so long…

He looks up, he looks in your direction - he’s still looking as confused and lost as before. A lost young man, a look you’ve seen on him before when he took you on a trip to the countryside. He always looked at you so fondly back then. And now he doesn’t see you at all. You want him to - as selfish and cruel as it is. As foolish as it is. You want it even though your heart would break. He’d be terrified. Perhaps he wouldn’t even recognize you. You don’t think he would but you hope, you wish. It’s not like you have any idea if the same feelings in your heart remained in his.

He keeps running his hand over his arm like an obsession, like he’s trying to ground himself. He massages it, he pokes at it, he pinches it. He must feel your touch somehow, he does - he just doesn’t recognize it, so can it really be said he feels it at all? You should let go. Whatever he feels, it’s not a pleasant feeling. But you can’t. You finally found him again. You can’t let go now. It’d be like letting go of the straw that keeps you from drowning.

“Jeonghan,” you try calling his new name aloud. A mere whisper.

Yet he whips his head up and gasps. His pupils shrink, his mouth hangs open in a silent scream. He freezes. Not a simple scare freeze - no, the type of fear rooted deep in human instinct, the fear of something unknown and unnatural, something that seems human but isn’t.

He meets your eyes. You truly think he does. His breath gets stuck in his chest.

“-aaand we’re clear to go!” Shua announces cheerfully, returning back in a rush - then he speeds up more when he sees Jeonghan, his face immediately falling. “Hey, you good?”

He needs to shake Jeonghan’s shoulder to get his friend to look at him. He gets no other reaction than a few blinks.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he tries to lighten the mood, although his brow is furrowed in worry.

Jeonghan is pale as a sheet. You notice he bites his tongue, he resolves himself to push back his true feelings - you’ve learned to read him like an open book. It only causes you more pain now.

“I just got a bit nauseous,” Jeonghan lies through his teeth, “I think I messed up my breakfast.”

“That’s why I keep telling you to consider the kitchen more of a decoration,” Shua huffs while he helps Jeonghan stand up, insists on it despite the other’s protests. He watches out for him even as he stands straight and steady.

“Let’s just go,” Jeonghan groans, “I think I should lie down.”

You don’t let go. You see his hand twitch as if he wants to touch his arm again but he stops himself.

You hang onto his arm. You haven’t managed to leave the buried remains of the past before, held back by an invisible force. It must’ve been fate looking out for you.

Or maybe it wasn’t, maybe you’re meant to haunt this place. 

Whatever happens though, trapped here or not, you will hold onto him until the last second.

You hold your redundant breath as you’re all nearing the exit.

You’re carried out, anchored to your lover. 

The sun shines through you.

“So, how did it go?” No surprise Jihoon is already back. They really should have bit the bullet and volunteered to drag him around. Looking back, Joshua really should’ve picked him over Jeonghan.

“Well…” Joshua hesitates and Jeonghan rolls his eyes.

His arms still feels off. It’s cold - he thought maybe it was the wind blowing directly at it once they came out of the underground. (Not a leaf moved on the ground, but Jeonghan will ignore the fact. Maybe he just offended the wind in some way.) Maybe there really was something wrong with him. Could he eat some parasite in his food lately? Maybe. Honestly he would take anything over what he saw down there. Anything over being possessed by a ghost. He has too many things to achieve. He cannot afford to lose control of his body; wailing and being creepy is bad for the business.

“I feel better now,” he pats Joshua’s shoulder. It’s not a lie - or it won’t be in a while, once he gets lost in work. His arm still feels cold. Occasionally the feeling skims over his skin like a ghostly touch. He doesn’t want to entertain that thought. “Nothing to worry about, I just got a little dizzy. Maybe I slept too little?”

He thinks aloud, overacting but it works to make Joshua sigh in exasperation and Jihoon nod in understanding. Of course he would understand. 

“Look, just be careful, okay? We can get through one day without you, boss,” there’s a teasing lilt to Joshua’s voice when he calls him that but he coos at his friend anyway.

“Why don’t I start with the orders for tomorrow then, that’s easy enough,” he doesn’t wait for their agreement and instead goes to the back. Joshua will explain everything to Jihoon and he doesn’t necessarily need to be around for that. He knows they won’t protest if he takes on whatever he feels like, both a little too caring for their own good. That’s why he wants them to have easy lives, do well and be rich. A goal that will be a challenge if he starts losing his mind and seeing things suddenly. He shakes his head. Work. Focus on work and it’s gonna be fine.

And it is. They keep it cool in the back so the flowers don’t wilt as quickly. He would need to focus to feel the difference of temperatures on his body - so he won’t do that. He doesn’t need to think about much else while he prepares one bouquet after another, picking the right flowers, twisting stems together, tying bows… Although they should be getting ready for the festival and among other deals they have, they need to keep the core of the business running. It’s back to basics, but he loves it. He genuinely enjoys preparing the orders. Some of them are more specific than others, but he likes the artistic freedom of those in which he can just follow what occasion the bouquet is meant for and put his own twist to it. It’s an honor that so many people trust them to convey their feelings… or at least to create something pretty. He gets it, sometimes you just want to give someone a pretty flower without thinking about what it means.

He gets so into the work that he forgets about anything else and by the time Seokmin comes to get him, he’s done with everything. 

“You were faking it, weren’t you?” Seokmin accuses once he sees all the orders that needed to be prepared for tomorrow done and stored away. Jeonghan rolls his eyes.

“Joshua is just too dramatic. You know him,” he sighs. His friend doesn’t seem convinced.

“Well, he looked really worried,” the younger man shifts on his spot nervously, “He said you looked like you’ll pass out. Like you saw a ghost.”

Jeonghan flinches a little. But he recovers quickly, gasping in a split second and hitting Seokmin’s shoulder lightly with a declaration of: “Don’t say scary things like that!”

Seokmin teases him for a while, but it’s fair enough. Jeonghan’s never been too scared of ghosts and such, never worried about being trapped underground forever - actually he doesn’t think there was ever a time his friends saw him scared, and the jokes remind him of that. Right. Ghosts aren’t real. He must’ve been just lightheaded or something. Maybe he’s more stressed about the planning than he realized previously.

“Right, I’ll do a coffee run, you want something?” Seokmin remembers, quickly getting to why he actually came.

“I’ll come with you, it’s hard to carry everything alone,” Jeonghan says as he washes his hands. 

He thinks about grabbing the jacket he keeps at the shop, but thinks better of it. It’s windy outside and Seokmin suggests he returns for it, but he absolutely won’t. The cold feeling shifted, resting around his hand as if assuring him it’s not going anywhere. Hand in unlovable hand - who said that? He shakes his head. It’s easier to ignore the sensation with the wind blowing this and that way, and Seokmin is good at distracting him.

They talk about the results of Seokmin and Seungkwan’s “research” while they wait in line and for their order to be made. It seems they were about as successful as him and Joshua, so Jihoon is their biggest hope. Not that it matters, it’s unreasonable to think anyone at the festival would care about the historical accuracy of the flowers used as decorations, and their shop focuses on the symbolism anyway, but Jeonghan likes little details like that. Even if it makes their work much harder. It would be nice to have something traditional or local for the centerpiece at least.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Seokmin asks all of a sudden. It takes him by surprise, but soon the expression is replaced by a soft smile. He nods. 

He’s not. But maybe the time he spends with his friends will help. Or maybe he’ll go mad and these are the last precious moments he has with them. Fortunately, the human mind isn’t capable of comprehending things in their entirety, and so even if his thoughts are gloomy, he can still smile. He’s grateful for that.  

“It was nothing. Maybe phobias are like allergies?” Jeonghan suggests, wondering, “Maybe they can just pop up randomly or disappear.”

“So you think I could get over my fear of bugs?” Seokmin considers the idea seriously.

“I’ll give you a raise if you do,” Jeonghan smirks and easily dodges his friend’s elbow aimed at his ribs. This is definitely better than obsessing over something out of his control. Something that might be all in his head.

(He still looks over his shoulder as they exit the cafe.)

As they sit at the round table - as Seokmin jokes - it’s very obvious everyone had a great time but it wasn’t really a productive means of reaching their research goal. They skip only quickly over his and Joshua’s trip, everyone well familiar with its less than ideal ending.

Jihoon of course agrees that local flora of history would be a great research topic for a thesis, but for now the idea remains to be extensively explored in resources that could be found at local libraries. (The silver lining though, clearly, is the stack of books in his bag resting against the wall.)

Seungkwan and Seokmin, who visited the botanical garden, did manage to get some interesting and useful information. A little miracle nobody counted on happening. They also went above and beyond to ask the visitors of the park about their favorite flowers. (“To make it like it’s made for them!” they claim, although the notion is as ridiculous as it is cute.)

Jeonghan enjoys listening to his friends, he really does. His eyes hurt with the effort to keep them on the person talking, always switching. He’s trying. But he’s so nauseous that it feels like he’s being continuously punched in the stomach.

His head feels like it’s full of cotton and fog, not a single thought forms itself in its entirety. All of them are just incoherent, broken pieces littering his mind. Jeonghan has never dived in his entire life, but he thinks he knows what it feels like now. He feels as though an entire ocean is pressing down on him. The meeting can’t end soon enough - as much as he loves listening to the chaos.

His friends fortunately aren’t blind and with all of them being aware of his almost collapse earlier, they don’t take long to catch on to Jeonghan not feeling his best. It takes some convincing that he’ll be fine, that he just needs to eat and rest, even as he’s putting all his strength into not doubling over and curling into fetal position to ease the sudden sinking fear gripping his entire body. They follow him the entire way to his door just upstairs. It’s comical, him and his four little ducklings. It eases the tension in his body and the fear, but he would lie if he said he doesn’t prefer to isolate himself whenever he’s not feeling well. He’s strong enough to lie and tell them he’ll be fine on his own.

The door closes behind him with what feels like finality. It feels like he just closed the door to his old life, though he wouldn’t hesitate to say it feels like he left his old world - whatever that means when there’s no other world. His apartment looks like it always did, like it did when he left this morning. It feels like that was eternity ago - he can summon the memories of his excitement, the energy he felt. There’s none left in him now. 

He lets his bag fall to the floor and lay there. He doesn’t bother to hang up his keys and lets them rest on the little shelf next to some trinkets the guys brought back from their holidays over the years. 

He drags himself to the living room and throws himself down on the sofa. He’s staring at the white ceiling, watches the stripes of lights and shadows following one after another where the glow of the street lamp is blocked by his blinds. It’s too quiet. 

He should wash up. There are many things he should do, actually, but he has no strength or will to get up. His stomach feels uncomfortable and his muscles are tense. That probably doesn’t help with how he’s feeling. He takes a couple deep breaths, slows down his breathing even if it feels like he’s going to pass out.

His head throbs, but it’s better than the nausea twisting his stomach. He thinks he’ll faint soon, something bad is bound to happen to him, his body overcome with heat, then cold, all within a minute. His breathing is getting heavier. He tries closing his eyes, searching for any small relief. Instead he’s more aware of his body. 

Something tells him to move, something so primal he doesn’t dare to disobey. Like his own body knows if something doesn’t happen right now, he’s gonna die. He groans when he pushes himself up, clinging to the back of the couch. He needs water. He makes it to the bathroom, supporting himself on the walls. It only gets worse. It keeps getting worse and worse and he’s lightheaded. 

He holds himself up against the sink and turns on the water. It feels icy against his skin, but that’s what he needs. He splashes his face with it, and the relief is slow but it’s there. He drinks out of his palms and the cold water sliding down his throat helps. He’s nauseous still, he feels dizzy, but not on the verge of breakdown. 

At least that’s until he looks up.

The mirror on the wall shows two reflections. 

He shrieks so loud his throat burns despite the cold water sticking to it. 

He thinks he blacks out for a second. 

But when he opens his eyes, he’s still standing in his bathroom. His hands are cramped, curled around the edges of the sink so that he doesn’t fall. 

The mirror still shows another person behind him. 

His own shriek resonates in his head and his throat burns more at the memory.

Part of him wishes that what he saw looked like a monster. Something straight out of a horror movie, something inhumane. But it’s just a person. Barely there, a shadow of a human being. Something that isn’t there when he turns to looks back.

He closes his eyes tightly and only blinks them open after a few long minutes. He doesn’t know what he expected, but what he feels is a resignation. Something in him gives up when the person doesn’t disappear when he looks into the mirror again. He refuses to check if something hasn’t changed and the stranger hasn’t manifested in his home - he’s seen enough horror movies for that. He’d rather keep his eyes on the reflection. 

“I lost my mind,” he laughs, his head hanging between his shoulders. Tears pool in his eyes. Was it stress? Was it karma for the pranks he played? What was it that finally did him in?

He looks up and the ghost is wearing a sad smile. As if it’s pitying him. He laughs again. Even the creation of his own shattering mind thinks him a pathetic clown.

“You should sleep,” a voice says, and at the same time: “I should sleep.” He says.

He hears it, but it takes a second to comprehend that the echo of his voice wasn’t truly his voice, but some other, second voice. The ghostly figure behind him never moved its lips. Never moved. Never spoke. It just keeps staring.

Has he seen the face before?

The underground flashes in front of his eyes. The split-second trick of the light he saw there. Goosebumps erupt all over his body. Could it be the same face?

Surely he just saw something, some picture - the picture on the tour? It must be a waking nightmare, just a stranger’s face he saw once. It’s said you never forget a face you’ve seen and this must be it. Maybe he slept less than he thought. He must be exhausted, his body must be shutting down. That’s why he’s losing it. His vision starts swimming. He’s dizzy from staring at the figure so intensely.

Something like sleep paralysis maybe? He’s awake but ready to pass out from exhaustion. That must be it.

“Sleep,” he speaks again, and like before, there’s the echo of the second voice. He’s sure it’s just his sleep paralysis demon speaking. He’s pathetic enough that even demons would pity him.

Sleep… He needs to go to sleep. That much is obvious. But sleep seems like the stupid thing to do. He rubs his face again, splashes more cold water on it, but the ghost doesn’t disappear. So he does the unthinkable.

He turns around suddenly. So suddenly his head hurts and he almost loses his balance. He winces, but there is no one. No solid figure, no ghastly figure, nothing. Cautiously, he reaches forward, but he feels nothing. There’s the need to check the mirror again gnawing at the back of his mind, but he doesn’t. Instead he turns off the light so he can’t see at all. He extends his hand again but still - nothing. He takes a couple deep breaths and bolts. 

He’s stumbling and banging against the walls, but he makes it to his bedroom. He jumps on his bed, covers his body with a blanket and pants. His body is shivering, trembling, tight like his every muscle is cramped. It’s hard to breathe, the lump in his throat taking up too much space, the air can’t get through. He remembers the phone in his pocket and takes it out. It lights up and he can finally see again. 

It’s just him under the blanket. Only his body and nothing else. He sits up again. It makes him dizzy, the blanket falls. The phone lights up the room but it’s empty. It’s just him.

He sighs. 

He falls back, staring at the ceiling like he did before. The nausea is gone for the most part, and now that he’s lying down, he doesn’t feel like he’s gonna pass out in the next second. There is only the dread and anxiety left that make him lightheaded and wide awake despite the exhaustion. He knows his body will give out before his mind does, but that’s worse. He knows it’s gonna create nasty nightmares to haunt him, and it’s the last thing he needs today. He honestly feels like crying. He feels like calling someone - but what’s he gonna say? ‘Hey, I think I saw a ghost in my bathroom, can you come over?’ That sounds way too pathetic. It’s too late to ask anyone to come over, and to ask if they could stay over too. At least without a good reason. He knows he can rely on his friends, knows they wouldn’t ask questions and be there within minutes, but his pride won’t allow it. And looking like he does - he can imagine the mess that he is right now - they might not ask, but they’d be worried. Jeonghan doesn’t want that above all. 

So he takes a couple of deep breaths. If there is a ghost in his bathroom… If there is a ghost anywhere, if he is possessed… What’s he supposed to do about it at midnight? Nothing. There’s nothing he can do. 

He reasons with himself. He’s exhausted. He can feel his very bones weighing him down, and he already had some sort of breakdown earlier on the tour. Must be stress. Must be hunger - he doesn’t feel hungry at all, but except for breakfast, did he eat anything the whole day? He can only remember the breakfast and the toast Seungkwan basically forced down his throat. Must be that he’s starving. Must be the lack of sleep. Even though he felt energized, that doesn’t mean he was. His body must’ve lied to him - and now his own eyes and mind are lying to him. That must be it. There’s no way ghosts exist. 

He turns to his side and checks the calendar. It shouldn’t be too busy tomorrow, that should give them plenty of chances to brainstorm about the festival some more. He focuses on that. The festival. The orders they should get done tomorrow. All the practical and necessary day-to-day things. He should get some groceries too. A warm, home cooked meal would do him good, even if it was something simple that he cooked. It all must’ve been just exhaustion and hunger. 

He lets the screen go dark. He can barely make out his reflection in the dim light coming in through the window. Only his reflection. That soothes him a little. He can’t keep his eyes open anymore anyway. He listens to the sounds of the apartment and everything sounds as it should. No movement, no steps, no doors making funny sounds. He’ll laugh about it in the morning. He’ll tell the guys and they’ll laugh about it together. That’s how it’s gonna be. He allows himself a tiny smile.

Just a sleep paralysis that came too early. 

Errors happen even in the human body. 

That’s just how it is. 

You watch him fall asleep.

You don’t have a body, yet it feels like you do all the same. The pain feels real, even if it doesn’t have anywhere to anchor itself to. Passing points, your own ghosts of neurons shooting signals to each other in a messed up web all over your being. You are a nebula of pain.

It was obvious what’s going to happen. You knew it well. Yet it left your heart shattered on his bathroom floor. 

What hurts more - the terror in his eyes or that he doesn’t recognize you? Well, he has his own life now, one without you, so you suppose there’s only so many memories he can carry with himself. And you simply have no place among them.

It hurts. You want to scream, but you can’t - not in a way that would bring relief. And what if he hears you? In what universe could you endure seeing more of his panic? You know the answer.

Seeing him so exhausted hurt you too. Was it hard carrying you around? Bringing a second soul probably leaves a toll on the body just like carrying another body would. You wished to speak to him, but how could you utter a word when seeing you made him react the way he did. You don’t want him to lose his mind. You’ll have to be smart. You don’t want to hurt him more than you’re already doing. You can carry the hurt of the situation, you can withstand the hurt he causes you because it’s not his fault. Not his fault at all. Not yours either, you think, you hope, but you definitely have more power here. You comfort yourself with the knowledge you could probably talk to him. Just not tonight when the fear is fresh. 

You move closer to him, gently move some of his hair away from his face as if you were a cold breeze blowing in through the window. He looks angelic. His features are much softer than you remember, but he’s as handsome as he always was. You lie down beside him, admiring him in his sleep. It’s not gonna be a restful night. You see the first frown twist his face, and it stabs you right in your chest. You can’t protect him from nightmares, but you’ll share the pain.

Even if he won’t know.

“Wow,” Jihoon exclaims the moment he sees him, “You look-”

“- awful.”

“- like shit.”

Both Seokmin and Joshua pipe in. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

As expected, the night wasn’t kind to him at all. Well, perhaps he could find some silver lining in the fact that despite the night being quite hot, he was so exhausted he didn’t even notice. And despite the nightmares and the heat, he didn’t wake up sweaty and disgusting.

Anyway, he didn’t have the courage to wander into his bathroom and avoided mirrors like the plague, so he probably looks a mess anyway. 

(It was pathetic enough to crawl on the floor and blindly feel for his toothbrush and toothpaste on the sink without really stepping inside. To take a shower there was out of the question. Okay, maybe he was a little disgusting.)

“I couldn’t sleep well,” he shrugs, “Neighbours decided to have a party.”

The young couple living in the apartment above his own were actually the ideal neighbors, but that was good - with no reason to talk about them much, the lie would go unnoticed. He got several understanding nods in response.

“And… you feeling okay?” Seungkwan asks, and he’s once again touched by his friends’ concern that is mirrored on all three faces.

“Yeah,” he tries a small smile, “Would be better if I got actual sleep but it is what it is.”

“You can sneak out during lunch break, we won’t tell the boss,” Seokmin gives him an exaggerated wink. He scoffs, but smiles anyway. It’s genuine.

This is better. Normal is better. Last night feels like a fever dream compared to this. Just a joke played on him by his exhausted body and mind. He’s still shaken by it, though, the cracks it left in his confidence in himself and what reality is are still too sharp to joke about it. He hopes that by tomorrow he gets some quality sleep and his shit together.

“Anyway, let’s get to work so Friday isn’t a pain in the ass,” he claps, rolling his eyes at Seungkwan’s mock salute. 

He’s more grateful than he could ever express for these guys. The nightmare of last night is easily forgettable and written off as a glitch in the matrix with them around. 

When a cold breeze circles and brushes around his wrist though, as if lingering like a lover’s touch, he shivers and breaks out in cold sweat anyway. He turns around. He sees nothing. 

As it should be.

(Then why does he feel the hairs at the back of his neck stand up?)

You’ve always admired his hard working nature. The honesty and dedication with which he works. It’s quite the change from the man you used to know back then - you’d never think you’ll get to see him one day selling flowers, but it seems to suit the present day version of him. Very little of him changed in the aspects that matter. Bodies are no more than a shell to be eventually discarded - or that’s how you came to think of them over your short experience of being just a wandering soul.

You’re careful not to hover too close too often. He flinches any time the wind blows in, even if it’s a work of nature and not your touch. And so you lost your excuse to touch him. It still makes you uneasy to keep your distance. Your heart is filled with anxiety whenever you lose contact with him, terrified of being dragged back into the underground by the same mysterious power that allowed you to leave when you latched onto him.

Jeonghan’s friends watch him closely - trying to be as inconspicuous as they can to go unnoticed by him. Yet he does notice them, smiling a little to himself. He seems troubled but he hides it well. At least from everyone who can’t float around him and see him when nobody is looking. It pains your heart, it really does. But it can’t be helped - you can’t help it. Your instinct screams to stay close to your lover after what, decades - centuries? No way you’re letting him disappear from you now.

It’s painful to watch him be cautious and on guard, to be the only one aware of it, and the only one on the receiving end of this icy attitude. You don’t blame him. But it hurts. You’re tempted, oh so tempted, to take advantage of the moments when he speaks to his friends, moments when you know he’d fake being alright, to touch him. To wrap your arms around him and hold him. Just for a second.

He’s yours. Can’t he see? Can’t he feel it? His soul is yours, yours is his. Doesn’t he know?

It makes you angry. Some part of you is furious with him for not feeling the tug of your bond. It’s so deeply interwoven in your heart, bound to your very existence. Why else would you be awakened to your afterlife if not to meet him? To be one with him again?

And he doesn’t even bother to care about you.

All he seems to care about is how repulsive your touch is to him. When he’s left alone in the room, he turns around helplessly, desperately searching for something that is not there, yet something that makes his skin crawl, that invades his space, that he can’t run away from. 

Why would he run?

His eyes are wide and panicked, teary. You can see yourself in their reflection and you feel shame that makes you draw back.

But he’s still scared. He doesn’t know you back away from him.

He’s still backing himself into a corner, or against a wall, or a desk, or against soft blooming flowers that stop him in his tracks. And then you are reminded of his gentle touch and tender caresses and you want to weep. 

He might be terrified of the summer breeze, but he never harms the flowers. He stops himself before he can knock them over.

You’re a monster, and it hurts. You’re a monster but it hurts. You’re a monster despite and because it hurts. Being a ghost cannot possibly be described in any other way than the simple statement I am in pain.

You don’t want to hurt him. Yet it seems that’s all you can do.

You’re angry and you’re hurt, your emotions come and go like the waves at the sea.

And he’s hiding it all so well, acting like he lost his balance when his friends start returning. He laughs, pretty and bright. Like he was never on the verge of tears.

Truth be told though, it’s hard. He wants to break down, but he can’t and he won’t. Jeonghan won’t let them see him cry, he won’t tell them anything. He’ll let them tease him, he’ll whine at them. He’ll laugh. It’s important as a business owner to be able to act, to pretend. It’s what he’s always done. He doesn’t need help. He can do this.

It’s harder to let the work swallow him whole, however. He feels eyes on him. Hand frozen just a breath away from his skin. It makes him jumpy, but fortunately that can be easily written off and joked about as just him dozing off. It wouldn’t be the first time lack of sleep made him act weird, and for once he’s glad for that. At the same time, though, it stings. 

He wants to be comforted, to be reassured. At the same time, he doesn’t want his friends to be concerned about something that might just be his mind playing tricks on him. But it really doesn’t feel like a joke anymore. He can’t explain it; the impending sense of doom, like he’s about to have a heart attack. The fear so strong and urgent it enables him to act with absolute serenity. Jeonghan knows it’s not just the exhaustion - which means that yesterday was no play of the shadows in his bathroom either. It makes him nauseous all over again. It makes the scent of flowers overwhelming.

He makes it through the maintenance and prep for tomorrow with only a few tiny hiccups. Mostly due to the efforts of his friends to keep him entertained. He wonders if he’ll ever be able to thank them. They might quite literally be saving his life - or his sanity at the very least. But isn’t it the same thing at the end of the day - his life and his ability to comprehend that he’s living this life.

After the necessary is done at a record pace, a couple hours earlier than it would take under normal circumstances, they sit down according to plan to brainstorm. It’s more fun now that they abandoned the pressure of sticking to tradition and history - which in hindsight should be obvious to be impossible. It’s not like even if they wanted to, even if they could, it would be viable to only use the local wildflowers for all the decor.

Jihoon also shocks everyone when, unlike Seungkwan, he provides the list of artists and other entertainers who’ll be present at the festival. (“What? I have friends too, you know,” he scoffs when everyone turns to look at him with their mouths hanging open and Seungkwan grumbling to himself.) 

Most of the musicians are local and undiscovered artists, but it helps with imagining the vibe the festival will have. It’s starting to come together when they look up the official program and list of activities that will be available. Surprisingly it seems that it truly aims to celebrate the city’s history, if one’s willing to look past the few necessary activities for children that are planned. And memories, remembering, cherishing, all that is so easy to express through flower language. 

A little too easy. 

And Jeonghan is yet again grateful to his friends for a thing he’d find a little annoying any other day.

“We don’t have to have it figured out today,” he tries to join the conversation again, tries to steer it in a more productive direction. It’s hardly a conversation anymore, rather a contest of who can be the loudest. Jeonghan’s eyes meet with Jihoon’s who shrugs and lifts the paper in front of him. There’s a rough drawing of what looks like possible table decoration with arrows and names pointing to individual flowers that Jeonghan can’t make out through the flurry of hands thrown around in wild gestures. Jihoon mouths a what do you think? to him anyway, although he can’t quite respond.

He runs a hand through his hair just as Seungkwan scolds Joshua for apparently making the centerpiece look too much like a funeral decoration.

If something really has possessed him, he wonders what the entity must be thinking…

“Jeonghan was saying something,” Jihoon grumbles out of nowhere, and even though Jeonghan himself could barely make out what the other was saying, the room goes quiet and all the four heads turn in his direction. He sighs. Like he needs more eyes on him. At least these he can see.

“We don’t have to get everything finalized today,” Jeonghan reminds everyone and starts picking different colored highlighters from the table. He swipes different colors over the individual items on the list of everything they were contracted to provide. He tries to be fair with the division of labor and closely monitors the reaction when he slides the paper further down the table for everyone to check out. 

“I think it’s best if everyone picks out something and comes up with ideas for that,” Jeonghan suggests, “We have enough time, so let’s meet about it in two weeks. And if you have any ideas for the other things, write them down too.”

“Do you want to pick first?” Seokmin asks but Jeonghan shakes his head.

“I’m fine with whatever,” he waves them off. It’s not like he could get himself to consider and focus right now. Honestly he can’t be sure yet how big of a deal whatever’s happening to him is, so it’s better this way. If there’s a risk of him not doing as good of a job as he could, why take something one of the guys would enjoy?

He watches with fond eyes as his friends bicker over the colors more seriously than the tasks. He spins the pen he’s holding between his fingers. The eyes he feels on his back constantly never disappear but somehow it seems like he’s not the main focus now. Is he losing his mind for real? Jeonghan rubs his eyes. 

It’s like he can feel it. Like he can feel something hover around. He doesn’t see anything, truth be told he doesn’t feel anything unless… It feels foolish to say until it touches him because there’s nothing there but there’s no better way to explain it. If that something was a person, he can feel their gaze shifting. If it was a person, who could it be? He made his fair share of mistakes in his life, but he doesn’t think he’s ever hurt anyone enough for them to haunt him.

“Well, that leaves the centerpiece for you,” Joshua slides the paper back to him. He whines.

“Is it because Seungkwan hates your idea?” Jeonghan complains. He doesn’t care, not much anyway (although it does put a lot of pressure on him), as long as they’re happy but he is worried. It’s a big responsibility, and if this whole issue he’s having will drag on, can he do a good job? He doesn’t want to let them down.

“It’s because you’re the owner. You should be the star,” Seungkwan pushes at his shoulder. Jeonghan hopes his smile is convincing enough. He hopes they’ll read the anxiety only for the half of the worries they’re meant to see.

“Always being nice to me only when it’s convenient, I see,” he sighs, shaking his head. At least he can smile for real now. At least he can forget somewhat about the eyes when he play-fights with them. 

They throw around ideas for a while longer and go through the timeline again - when is the next meeting with the organizers, when are they going to need to make the order, when to start with the work. That’s gonna be the main issue - to manage everything in time along with the other jobs they have. It’s not like there aren’t ways to get around it, but it’s another huge thing on Jeonghan’s plate to figure out.

It’s not exactly a tiring day and all things considered, Jeonghan feels quite refreshed when he makes it home. Mostly because Joshua insists on hanging out with him for a while, so that takes away the anxious edge he feels about coming home. Still, he thinks it must be because the other man worries about his breakdown yesterday and it irritates him a little.

He doesn’t even know a half of it - if he knew the whole story, Jeonghan’s positive Joshua would treat him differently. Like a freak. Then the guilt hits. Joshua is too kind for his own good and Jeonghan’s paranoid. Of course his best friend would try to understand, he’d probably help him come up with a logical solution and offer support. It’s just Jeonghan’s mind trying to isolate him like it always does when he’s going through something. He wishes he could blame it on whatever nightmare he’s dreamed up, but he really can’t.

Once the door closes behind Joshua, Jeonghan feels like his heart dropped into his stomach. He can’t swallow. He can barely breathe. Not that there’s anything preventing him, but he can’t set any rhythm to taking breaths that would allow him not to choke. He’s gasping for breath, his ears ringing.

The eyes are on him.

They were the whole time, but he could push it to the back of his mind. Now it’s all coming back to him in full force.

He can feel them, burning into his back.

When he turns around, there will be nothing there.

He does, slowly, hesitantly, eyes glued to the floor. It takes all his will power to look up.

Nothing.

He smiles bitterly. At this point he’d prefer it if he was hallucinating as well. He wants to see that thing that he saw in the bathroom yesterday. Anything that would make it more real and less like a delusion brought on by a sudden attack of claustrophobia. Because he’s not going insane. He won’t lose his mind from a silly visit of a historical site that Joshua brought him on. 

Then a thought hits him - what if Joshua finds out about it somehow? If his best friend ever learns about what Jeonghan is going through, he’ll feel guilty. Like he’s not already beating himself over that sudden spell of nausea that overcame him then and over Jeonghan’s exhaustion and weakness.

He has to solve this. He has to figure it out, at least. Make any kind of first step of getting rid of this. Yesterday, he could easily dismiss it as a punishment for pushing himself too much - what else could he do? It was late, he needed to sleep. His own body protected him from the horrors that he can’t avoid today in the daylight. Sure, he’s still exhausted, but it simply doesn’t make sense.

Nothing makes sense. There’s no reason for him to have a psychotic break, so why? Why is this happening right when he most needs to be in a good condition? His fists clench and unclench, his jaw set. His eyes burn holes into the air in front of him. He can feel something there. He knows it’s there. He doesn’t understand why, he doesn’t understand what he’s dealing with, but he’s going to figure it out. Now.

Jeonghan struts into the bathroom and in the mirror - nothing. Only him. He takes a couple of deep angry breaths that sound too loud in the silent bathroom.

Not a speck of dust stirs. There’s no breeze. No cold ghostly touches brushing against his skin. If it was a dream, a trick of his exhausted body and mind, so be it. But he needs to be sure.“Show yourself,” he spits, “If there’s anything - anyone - following me, show yourself right now.”

[ramblingoak]

The Vampire's Bride part 2

(This is dedicated to the Anon that told me vampires were overdone)

Just another bit of The Cardinal's Bride rewritten with vampires in honor of spooky season. Probably will only do maybe one or two more parts? Thank you to @ghuleh-recs for the banner!

Read Part One / Three / Napping With A Monster

Cardinal Copia x Female Reader ~ The Ghouls fight over why you're still alive and you make the mistake of running from The Cardinal

Warnings: vampire violence, blood, sexy vampire!cowboy!copia, nsfw, 18+ only, mdni, 2k words

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The branches grabbed at you as if they were hands, your dress getting more torn up as you rushed through the woods.  This was stupid, you knew it was stupid, but when the two Ghouls had started fighting each other you had to take the chance.  The vampires had fought often since they had taken you, but this was the first fight that had gotten especially violent.

It was also the first time they had fought over you.

Sunshine was the one that always questioned The Cardinal, Copia as you had learned, although he seemed used to it for the most part.  He’d either humor her or ignore her and she seemed fine either way.  It was when she had asked why you were still alive that the mood had taken a turn.  You had been huddled by the campfire trying to stay warm when she had brought it up.  Copia was sitting on the other side of the fire, his eyes on you every time you snuck a glance.  He only looked away when Sunshine questioned him about you.

“Is there a reason she’s still here?”  Copia just gave her a single nod and she had bared her teeth at him.  “Care to share with everyone?” 

“Not really, no.”  When Sunshine growled Copia had flashed his own fangs at her.  “Don’t forget your place here.”

“Well apparently ‘my place’ is just to blindly follow you and starve.” 

“We all fed less than a week ago and we fed well.  Control your cravings or stay behind next time.” 

“Maybe you should control your cravings.”

“What in the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh please, I’ve seen the way you look at her.”  Most of the camp had already been invested in Sunshine and Copia’s conversation but now everyone had stopped to watch them.  “Like you’re hungry for more than her blood.”

“Sunshine, back off.”  Aether, one of the only Ghouls that had been kind to you had stepped close.  “Leave it alone.”

“No Aether I want to hear what she has to say.”  Copia crossed his arms and looked up at her, waving his hand in a circle when she stayed silent.  “Oh did you run out of courage?”

“Fuck you, she should have died with the rest of them.”

“What’s the matter Sunny?  You jealous?” 

The Ghoulette whipped her head around, her red eyes glowing with anger in the moonlight as she glared at the Ghoul that spoke. 

“Fuck off, Swiss.” 

“Mmm, no.  You fuck off.  It’s the boss’s business if he wants to keep a little midnight snack around.”

“The problem is no one is doing any snacking!  We’re going to have to start drinking deer blood soon.” 

“Maybe I meant a different kind of snacking.  Not that you’d have much experience with that seeing as you’re so fucking obnoxious you’d have to drain someone for them to spend any amount of time with you.”

Even Copia raised an eyebrow at that.  You shifted nervously, watching as Sunshine stared Swiss down.  The Ghoul was smirking back at her, neither one of them moving until Swiss winked and pursed his lips toward her.  With an inhuman shriek Sunshine launched towards him, her body like a blur as she slammed into his body.  They tumbled across the ground, snarling and snapping at each other.  Aether and the tall Ghoul, Mountain, surged forward to try and break them apart, but when Mountain wrapped his arms around Sunshine’s chest she slammed her head back and connected with his face.

“Fuck!” 

He shoved her away, directly into Aether, both of them going down in a tangle of limbs.  Swiss leapt up from the ground and followed them.  The Ghoul had his hands at his side, fingers spread out with nails seemingly growing into claws as he growled and reached out to grab Sunshine.  Mountain shook his head, blood splattering the ground as he ran after Swiss.  He slammed into his back, shoving him into the dirt face first.  Swiss quickly rolled over onto his back and dove at Mountain’s legs, both of them immediately tearing at each other.

With four of the Ghouls fighting the others seemed reluctant to try and stop it.  It wasn’t until Aether cried out, a spray of blood emitting from a claw mark Sunshine had just given him on his face that the rest of them finally sprung into action.  Dewdrop and Rain got in between Swiss and Mountain while Copia grabbed the back of Sunshine’s hair and attempted to peel her off Aether.  They were all growling and hissing, none of them looking your way.  You slowly rose and began to back away from the fire, not knowing how far you might get in the dark but your fear of what might happen if you stayed was too great.  

It was worth a shot.

At this point you weren’t sure how long you had been going.  The shouting and snarling was long gone, the only sounds you heard were bugs and owls as they went about their business.  You were straining your ears, hoping to hear the small stream you had all crossed earlier, but you really had no clue what direction it was.  A whimper left you involuntarily, quickly turning into a sob. 

You stumbled to a stop, leaning over and resting your hands on your knees as you took deep, panting breaths.  What were you doing?  You’d reach the creek and then what?  You had nothing with you, no idea where to go, stuck in the middle of a noisy forest.  As if on cue an owl shrieked and took off right above you.  Leaves spun down around you from the tree and the moment would have been peaceful if it wasn’t for the fear of what you left behind. 

After a deep shuddering breath you looked up into the tree canopy.  There was no sign of the owl anymore, but as your breathing quieted you began to frantically look around.  Something was off here, but it took you a moment to realize what… 

The forest was silent.

There were no more owls or bugs, no frogs singing.  The trees weren’t even moving.  It was like the entire forest was waiting for something to happen.  A twig snapping nearby had you spinning around and looking into the trees for what might have caused it, but it was too dark.  You exhaled slowly as you started to back away, not looking behind you in case something rushed at your front.  There was a rustle close by and then a cool breeze drifting right across your cheek, a whispered word barely forming along your skin.

“Bambola.”

You gasped and spun around again but the only thing in front of you was more dark forest.  Another whisper next to your other cheek made you yelp and stumble back.  Your dress got tangled in some fallen limbs and you cried out when one scraped across your cheek.  You had to get out of here.  With a strangled cry you shoved yourself back on your feet and started running again.  The forest was still quiet and your footsteps were loud, there would be no hiding from whatever chased you. 

“Bambola.” 

One glance behind you was all it took.  As soon as you looked away from where you were running your body slammed into what felt like a wall.  But it wasn’t a wall or a tree, it was the vampire that had kidnapped you for reasons he hadn’t told you yet.  Tears started to spill down your cheeks as you futilely hit his chest to try and get away.  All that got you was a deep chuckle as you were pulled tightly against his chest.

“Please let me go, please!” 

“Now, now bambola.  Where’s the fun in that?”  His sharp nails bit into your chin as he tilted it up so you were forced to look at his face.  “What’s happened here?”

When he reached towards your cheek with his other hand you flinched back, turning your face away from him.

“Please Cardinal, just let me go.” 

He didn’t say anything at your plea so you kept your head away from him.  Copia leaned forward, his nose nearly brushing the scratch from the tree limb.  You started shaking when he took a deep breath, groaning as he did so.

“I can’t bring you back like this.”  You gasped when something wet touched your skin, a quick flick of his tongue against the cut.  Copia groaned, deep and almost wild sounding, before you felt it again.  This time it ran from one end of the scratch to the other.  “Cazzo, you taste unholy.”

You whimpered at his words, at his actions.  He continued to lap your cheek, his chest vibrating with what almost felt like purrs.  When he stopped he dragged his lips to your ear, nipping at the lobe.  You couldn’t help but beg, to plead with him again to let you go. 

“I can’t go back there, Cardinal.” 

“No you cannot, not like this.” 

That got you to turn and face him.  It was shameful how you felt about this man.  About this vampire.  He was a monster, he wasn’t someone you should have fantasized about to begin with.  You shouldn’t be feeling a thrill run through you when you finally opened your eyes to look at him.  To see the effect your blood had on him. His red and white eyes seemed to be staring into your soul, his mouth open so you could see his fangs up close. 

The Cardinal was mesmerizing.  

You whispered please again but he just shook his head.   As your eyes wandered over his face you noticed a few scratches, presumably from fighting with his Ghouls.  Part of his hair was slicked back with blood but you couldn’t tell if it was his or not.  You yelped when he abruptly growled, spinning you around and pinning you against a nearby tree. 

“I can protect you bambola, but it comes with a price.”  You shook your head, you didn’t want to hear about the deal or the price of it.  His mouth broke out in a feral grin before he continued.  “Look at me.  I can make it so no one dares touch you.  Human or otherwise.”

It was like you were in a trance, his eyes so intense you were scared to look away. Mustering up all the courage you had left you lifted your chin defiantly and glared at him.

“I don’t need your help with anything.”

Copia laughed at that, a dark sound that sent a shiver down your body.

“If you go back there they will tear you apart.”  He lowered his head so his lips were touching your ear again. “I’ll make sure no one will dare touch you.”

Your hands found their way to his chest, clinging to his jacket.  What was he talking about?

“I don’t understand…what will you do?”  Copia didn’t say anything, he just lowered his head and brushed his nose along the line of your jaw.  You felt his lips brushing against your skin as he moved further down.  He couldn’t mean…  “No!” 

“Just a taste, mia bambola.  Enough to mark you.” 

You started pushing at his chest, shaking your head frantically.

“No!  I’m supposed to trust you to stop?!”

Copia slipped a hand into your hair, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“What other options do you have?”  He leaned forward and licked up a tear that had begun to fall down your cheek.  “I promise I’ll be gentle.  It won’t hurt for very long.  And after…”

His mouth was hovering over yours now, his lips just out of reach.

“After what?  What happens after?”  

Your breath hitched as he smiled at you, his fangs shining in the moonlight.

“After that you’ll be begging me to do it again.”

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

The Vampire's Bride Part One / Three / Napping With A Monster

The Outlaw Brides Masterpost

My Fic Masterpost

My Archive of Our Own Page

[bluedolup]

Oikawa x Reader: Medical Assistant

–Synopsis: Hospital AU: Oikawa is the head doctor in the pediatric department and you’re his favorite nurse, today he found out who your main doctor is. 

You yawned as you got off the elevator and went to your desk. It was 2:40 AM and your shift will start in 20 minutes; you always got to work 20 minutes early to get yourself ready for your 10 hour shift and to be able to eat breakfast. The only downside about the whole thing is that you have a boss who has the same hours as you and he sticks to you like velcro. 

“Y/N~ Are you here yet?” you heard his cheerful voice coming down the hall to your office. You sighed and smiled, “yes Doctor” you said not looking away from the screen. You heard fast and heavy shuffling approaching then the pretty face that greets you every morning. “Hey, when did you get here? Did you eat? How was the traffic?” he asked leaning against the door frame “I just got here, I’m eating now, and traffic was normal” you said “do you have the file I put in your mailbox yesterday?” you asked “yup, Suzuki, Hiro, and Akira, all coming in for shots” he said “yup, good luck. Trying to give a shot to a three-year-old is like trying to make a teenager wear a condom” you said, throwing away your empty onigiri rapper. 

“Phh, don’t get me started on that. Is that all you ate?” he asked “yeah, I’ll be fine though. I have a smoothie in the fridge” you said, washing your hands “well, you eat at home don’t you?” he asked “of course I do, after my nice 5 hour nap I have spicy cup noodles and beer” you say. Oikawa smirks and enters the office, closing the door behind him. He approached you from behind and leaned close to you. “With that routine, I should check on you more often, why don’t you make an appointment with me? I take good care of my patiences” he said. 

You glanced up at him, “I’m aware, but do I look like a child to you Doctor? I know you worry about me but I’ll leave that to my actual physician” you said placing a folder on his chest “and besides, Dr. Wakatoshi takes good care of me~” you smirked up at him as you walked out the office to begin your work. Leaving a ticked off Oikawa gripping onto today's charts of patients. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An hour into your shift and it’s going slow, it’s a relief to be honest but you know better than to say it out loud. Hospital superstition. You were in the middle of labeling blood vials when I felt my pager going off, I looked at it for a moment and it was…Iwaizumi? 

Why would he page me? He’s not even part of my department. The only reason why he would be calling me would be during my break to eat with him and Oikawa but it’s only been an hour. 

Could it be an emergency? 

I finished my task and rushed to the ICU unit where I tried to ignore the cries of heart broken family members and friends. I hate it down here. It’s always so busy and crowded with death left and right; I looked around and spotted Iwaizumi near a closed curtain. “Iwaizumi! You called? What’s going on?” you said “there you are, I have a slight problem that you are better off handling” he said, he took the curtain and opened it exposing Oikawa sitting on the bed, gripping onto his hand. “Ah…Y/N, you came” he said with a smile “Toru?! What are you doing here?!” you exclaimed “he got stabbed with a dirty needle, carless bastard” Iwaizumi said. 

“Hey! Don’t be so mean! I’m hurt you know and your patient” he said “that doesn’t excuse you from being an idiot! For someone who studied for 12 years, you wouldn’t expect them to die like this” he said “w-wait, let's not talk like that. You must be busy, I’ll examine him and update you” you said taking his chart “you’re the best” he said leaving us alone with the curtain pulled shut. You took a deep breath before turning to him, “this better be a joke” you gritted through your teeth. Oikawa's sweat dripped from his face, “um…it was an honest mistake. I really didn’t want to bother anyone I swear” he said. 

You groaned, “Toru! How could you get stabbed with a dirty needle! Not even a resident would do something like that let alone a senior doctor!” you yelled “please don’t yell at me! I’m still hurt here!” he yelled back. You sighed and looked at the chart, “I need to get blood from you to see if you don’t have any diseases. If you’re lucky enough not to have anything, I’ll still have to give you a vaccine in case it’s small enough to kill off” you went over to a shelf and took out some infectant and bandages “god I can’t believe this happened, you know how bad this could be! Your hand might need to get cut off!” you exclaimed “w-what happened to you staying positive?!” he asked “ugh…fine fine, I’m sorry. You just worry the hell out of me sometimes” you said patching his wound up. 

Oikawa frowned, “I’m sorry, I didn’t want Iwa to page you even but there was a bridge accident so…”, I looked up at him “I see, so you were going to keep this from me” you said “well…”. You glared at him, “idiot, I would’ve found out either way. What were you even doing to get in this situation” you asked “w-well, I was with a patient and I was giving shots, so…I accidently dug into the dirty needle box instead of the clean ones” he said. “Are you serious?! What was going through your head to make that kind of mistake?” you asked.

“It was your fault,” he said. You froze, “excuse you?” you said “you brought him up, stupid Ushiwaka. Why are you even his patient? Why couldn’t you be with Maki? He’s as good of a doctor as Wakatoshi is…so why did you have to choose him?” he asked. You stared at him in disbelief, “Toru, are you…jealous?” you asked. His eyes widened and his face turned red, “huh?! No! I just think, in my professional opinion, Maki is a better doctor for you then Wakatoshi is” he said “hmm, right. And why do you think that he’s a better physician than Wakatoshi is?” you asked “easy, Maki is a great listener, he’s detailed, he’s efficient, and a kind man” he said proudly. I nodded at his ridiculous argument, “true, he’s all those things but there is a very important thing you’re missing” you said. 

“HE’S A PHARMACIST” you exclaimed.

At that time another nurse entered with the blood drawing supplies, you blushed in embarrassment as you took the supplies and apologized. “...And?” he asked “Oikawa, I need a full time physician to be able to take care of me, the only thing Dr. Hanamaki can do for me is fill my pill bottles” you said getting the supplies sterile."I just don’t like that he gets to see you personally so much” he said “see me personally? He’s doing his job…are you jealous or something?” you asked.

His eyes widened and his face turned red, “no!” he lied “yes you are, what do you think he does?” you asked, crossing your arms “i don’t know…what does he do?” he asked intrigued “hmm, well, he feels me all over my body” you said. He glared at you, “what does that mean?” he asked “well, I went in for some pain in my…breasts” you said finding his vein to insert the needle. “Oh I’ll kill him” he said “I’m kidding! It’s his job Toru, what are you so worried about?” you asked “...you’ve been to his hospital have you?” he asked. I inserted the needle and let his blood flow into the tubes, “yes, that’s where the check ups happen” you said “well…what if he offers you a job there” he asked. 

You glanced up at him as you removed the needle, “so you’re telling me that you’re worried that I would leave to become his nurse?” you asked, placing a bandage on him “you’re one of my best nurses, I care about you so much and…I just…don’t think I can live without you…at the hospital” he said. “Oh? Is that it? There isn’t any other reason?” you asked, labeling his blood tubes. “I’d rather cross that path when we’re not at work, but I think you know what I mean” he said. 

You looked at him and smiled, “I’m your nurse Oikawa, I love working here and you’re the best doctor I could ever ask for” you said. The look on his face was priceless, his face was pure red and he was sweating bullets, “I hope you put that through your head, because if this happens again, I’ll tell Iwaizumi to keep you here” you said. He jumped a bit at your threat, “y-yes ma’am” he said, you gave him a smile “I’ll come back with the results”, you opened the curtains to be met with Iwaizumi again “hey, is everything ok?” you asked “yeah, just wanted to che- why the hell are you red?! Are you getting a fever again?!” he yelled at Oikawa as you rushed back to the blood lab not wanting to be here when Iwaizumi was upset.  

[clarepreed]

Sexual Healing

Story Summary and Content - 5,074 words. Avery is on a work retreat with her crush, Cara, when Cara experiences a sudden cardiac arrest while masturbating. Cara’s coworkers have no choice but to revive her using controversial techniques developed from the procedures in Experimental. Sudden cardiac arrest, on-site resuscitation, intercourse with a person who cannot consent. 🏳️‍🌈

Recommended reading: Experimental.

--

Avery

“I can’t believe you didn’t cancel this retreat, Grace.” Avery stood in front of the cabin’s bay windows, squinting into the blinding white of the winter storm outside. “We’re going to be stuck here.”

“I’m possibly not the most responsible employer.” Grace spoke from the corner of the living room. When Avery turned to look, her friend and boss was also staring out at the blizzard, her arms wrapped tight around her middle. “I should have believed you, Jada.”

“I was almost a meteorologist.” Jada was sitting on the hearth, her back to the fire. She’d recently changed her protective hairstyle, and was careful about keeping her braids draped down her front and away from the sparks. “Who you really should have believed was Cara. Her migraines are like clockwork with weather systems. She barfed twice on the trip up.”

“I think she’s feeling better now,” Grace said. She peeled her arms off her midsection and raked a hand through her platinum blonde. “She’s just taking a nap to recover some energy. I wish I had done that.”

“She’s been asleep a while,” Avery commented, looking at her watch. “Maybe someone should check on her?”

“If she’s feeling better,” Grace said, “we should get some work done. Go ahead and check on her. Note that I said ‘check’ and not ��hit.’”

Avery rolled her eyes and hurried back to her room, slipping into the Jack and Jill bathroom connecting her room with Cara’s. She flipped on the light, taking a minute to check her reflection.

No food in my teeth. No flakes of mascara on my cheeks. Hair still gelled back. That’ll do.

Avery always thought she and Cara were a study in contrasts; Cara short and curvy to Avery’s tall and athletic build. Avery kept her dark hair cropped short and gelled away from her face, while Cara wore her blonde hair long and streaked with bubble gum pink. Where Avery was serious and earnest, Cara was sweet and open-minded.

Cara was wonderful, and Avery had been trying to work up the nerve to ask her out for months.

Avery heaved a sigh and turned toward Cara’s door, knocking. “Cara?”

She leaned closer to the door, listening.

“Cara?”

Jeez. She must still be asleep.

Avery knocked again, then tried the doorknob. The knob turned, and she pushed the door open. “Cara? Are you—” Avery froze.

Cara sprawled on the bed, nude, her hand between her legs.

“Shit!” Avery spun around and stepped back into the bathroom. “I’m so sorry! Oh my God!”

She felt a flush run from her scalp down to her chest and stomach. Then it enveloped her clit. Avery gasped. Cara, for her part, didn’t say a word. She didn’t make any noises at all.

She’s getting off, close the damn door!

Avery reached back for the door knob, trying not to look at Cara.

She was awfully still for someone masturbating.

“I’m s-sorry,” Avery stammered. “Um...”

Did she fall asleep? Faint?

“Hey, I’m not looking, but are you okay?”

Silence. Sweat sprung out on Avery’s palms. She took a few indecisive breaths and said: “Cara, I’m turning around. I just need to see if you’re okay.”

Avery turned, quickly finding Cara’s face with her eyes. The other woman looked ashen, her eyes half-lidded and staring at nothing.

“Cara?” Avery’s voice came out hoarse and wobbly. She hurried over, no longer having to make herself ignore Cara’s naked body. She grabbed her coworker by the shoulder and shook her, hard. “Cara!”

Cara’s head tipped to the side, but she remained otherwise still. 

“Oh my God… HEY! HELP!” Avery shouted toward the rest of the house, then grasped Cara’s face, turning it toward the ceiling and tipping her head back. She leaned over, her last bystander CPR training slotting into place in the foreground of her mind. “Cara, be breathing. Come on…”

The air remained still between them.

“GRACE! HELP!” Avery pinched Cara’s nose and sealed her mouth wide over her crush’s lips.

Not how I wanted this…

She gave Cara two breaths, watching her exposed breasts rise and fall. Someone yanked on the bedroom door as she slid her hands under Cara’s shoulders and dragged her unceremoniously onto the floor. 

“Cara? Avery?” Grace called out.

Jada walked in through the bathroom and stopped in her tracks, staring in shock at Cara’s naked, limp body on the floor. 

“Unlock the other door! We need the first aid stuff!” Avery ran her fingers across Cara’s skin, tracing her ribs and locating the lower third of her sternum. Then she clasped her hands together and rocked her shoulders over them. “She’s not breathing! One, two, three, four…”

Jada flipped the lock and ran out of the room, pushing past Grace.

“What happened? Oh my God!” Grace kneeled across from her. “What do you need me to do?”

“Call 9-1-1! Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty…” Avery’s brain slowed down again, struggling to process what she was doing. Her breath came short; she wondered how long she could keep this up and wished she was in better shape. Beneath her, Cara’s body rocked with the force of her compressions. Her head bobbed and her breasts wobbled. “Thirty!”

Avery leaned over, pinched Cara’s nose again. Under her mouth, the other woman’s lips were cool and slack. 

As she was giving the second breath, Jada ran back into the room with an AED, a small duffel, and the poster from the inside of the first aid cabinet installed in the pantry of the rental.

“Yes, I’m Grace Belgrave. I’m at fifty-seven East Mountain Bridge Byway.” Grace sounded harried.

“One, two, three…”

“What do I do?” Jada gasped, dropping down to her knees at Cara’s head.

“…seven, eight, nine…”

“My employee… my friend,” Grace amended, “she’s not breathing. No, we… Avery, do you know what happened?”

“…twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty! Jada, breathe for her!” Avery watched Grace move out of Jada’s way, and then Avery said: “I found her like that. She… it looked like she’d been touching herself. Masturbating. But I don’t know why she isn’t breathing!”

“Okay, she was found like this. She may have been masturbating—What do you mean you don’t know when someone can come out?”

“One, two, three, four—”

“The snow. Fuck. But you’ll talk us through it?”

Avery looked down at Cara’s body as she continued shoving her weight down between Cara’s ample breasts. The force made her soft stomach rippled and distend with each compression, and she heard huffs of air slip from between Cara’s lips. “…twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty! Breathe, Jada!”

“YES! We have a full kit and an AED. Okay. S-CPR? Really? I… Yes, I did say she was possibly masturbating… yes, we’re willing, I just…” Grace stared at Avery. “They want us to do S-CPR. I saw it on the news, but—”

There was a click and the sound of electronics powering down, and the room went dark. 

“Hello? Hello!” Grace shouted into the phone. “Oh my God, it disconnected.”

“Open the curtains,” Jada said.

“No, let’s get her in the living room! Huge window and the fire, we can see in there.” Grace dropped the phone and crawled around to Cara’s head. “I’ve got her head. Avery, get her feet. Jada, grab the supplies. Now! Hurry!”

Together, they carried Cara’s limp body into the living room, laying her out on the rug.

“I’ll take over chest compressions for a while,” Cara said. “Jada, you’re on breaths. Avery, read us the damn instructions!”

Grace found her landmark and started forceful compressions on Cara. The blonde woman’s head lolled to the side, her eyes still staring into space. 

Avery squinted at the poster. “Choking… drowning… sudden cardiac arrest. Is that it? No! Sexually-mediated cardiac arrest and suspected corsexamine depletion! Sexual-Cardio Pulmonary Resuscitation!”

“���fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen…”

Jada began unpacking the duffel. “Pocket mask, oh… I’ll put that on her!” She grabbed the mask and popped it open, shaking out the straps. As she slid it onto Cara’s face, Avery continued reading.

“‘Start chest compressions, two inches deep at a rate of one hundred per minute. Thirty compressions to two breaths,’ yes… Okay, next step is to connect the AED!” She reached for the smaller red kit and unzipped it. The AED immediately powered on.

“…thirty!”

“Apply pads! Plug in the connector!”

Jada tipped Cara’s head back and wrapped her lips around the valve, blowing a breath into her coworker. Cara’s chest rose. Avery realized Cara’s nipples were hard, prominent and slightly dusky.

She shook herself and dug through the contents of the case, pulling out a sealed packet labeled “Adult.”

“Apply pads, plug in the connector!”

“One, two, three, four…”

“Give those to me,” Jada said. “Keep reading!”

Avery handed the packet to Jada and bent back over the poster. “‘Follow the AED instructions. If the AED does not shock or shocks and advises you to continue CPR, proceed to the next step.’”

Jada tipped open the packet and peeled the backing off the first adhesive pads.

“…twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four…”

“‘Locate the S-CPR kit.’” Avery reached for the duffel and overturned it.

Jada peeled the backing off the second pad, eyeing the diagram before applying it beneath Cara’s left breast.

“…thirty!”

Jada leaned over to give Cara two more breaths, and Avery grabbed the connector dangling from the defibrillator leads and plugged it into the AED.

“Analyzing rhythm! Do not touch patient!” Jada and Cara scooted back. “Analyzing rhythm! Do not touch patient!

Avery grabbed a smaller kit labeled “S-CPR” and unzipped it, tipping the contents onto the floor. She quickly rifled through the items. There were three cartridges labeled “7mg corsexamine-1mg epinephrine auto injector,” several condoms, dental dams, nitrile gloves, lube, and a black silicone dildo in a sealed package.

“Shock not advised. Continue CPR for two minutes.”

“Jada, take this round!” Grace, still breathing hard. “I’ll do the breaths!”

Jada went ashen, but she leaned over Cara, her clasped hands pressing to the reddened skin between Cara’s pale breasts. “One!” Her braids swung as she worked, her face determined.

“‘Following the instructions on the auto-injector, administer one dose of corsexamine-epinephrine to the thigh muscle of the patient.’” Avery picked up one of the auto-injectors.

“Here!” Grace said, reaching out. “I know how to use one of those.”

“…nineteen, twenty—oh my God!” A popping sound from Cara’s chest made Jada freeze up, her eyes wide and her hands still buried between Cara’s breasts.

“Keep going!” Avery said. “It’s okay!”

Grace removed the auto-injector from the tube, which she tossed to the side along with the blue cap from the top of the device. Jada resumed chest compressions. Cara’s feet swayed gently side to side with each thrust.

Without a word, Grace raised her arm and brought the end of the auto-injector down onto Cara’s thigh. There was a click, and Grace counted quietly to herself. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten!”

She sat the pen to the side and quickly leaned over Cara, blowing two quick breaths into the mask.

“‘Continue AED and CPR cycles until patient recovers, rescuers arrive, or you are too exhausted to continue. If you have enough rescuers, proceed to sexual resuscitation.’” Avery glanced up at Grace. “I can do that.”

“One, two, three, four…”

“You don’t have to do it just because you’re—”

“I’ve got it!” Avery snapped. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “‘Obtain consent from next of kin if present. If not, proceed according to your state’s updated Good Samaritan laws.’”

“What are our state’s Good Samaritan laws?” Grace asked.

“…thirty!” Jada called out.

While Grace bent over to breathe for Cara, Avery read: “‘Provide sexual stimulation to breasts, genitals and/or anus as rescuer is comfortable. Use included Personal Protective Equipment and lube. Sexual rescuer must follow AED no-contact instructions. Administer another auto-injector after every second AED analysis until all three have been administered, patient recovers, or EMS arrives. Do not stop CPR unless patient recovers or you are too tired to continue.’”

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven…” 

“Avery…” Grace said. “You don’t have to. We don’t have to. It’s still controversial—”

“I don’t want her to die,” Avery interrupted. Her voice sounded miserable to her own ears. “I’ve got it.”

“…twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six…”

Avery crawled over Cara’s prone body, quickly grasping Cara’s thighs and spreading her legs. 

“…thirty!”

She laid down on her stomach while Grace gave Cara air. Her hands rested on Cara’s hips, thumbs stroking her smooth skin.

Forgive me.

Live to forgive me.

Eschewing the gloves and dental dam, Avery leaned close, her breath caressing Cara’s vulva. Jada resumed pumping Cara’s chest. From this vantage point, all Avery could see was Jada’s hands between two large, swaying natural breasts, and the way Cara’s stomach popped with each pump.

She massaged Cara’s inner thighs, briefly confused, uncertain if she should dive right in or not. If she were making love to Cara, she’d start slow. But this wasn’t love-making, this was first aid. Sexual first aid.

Avery inhaled. Cara smelled like sex, probably from her activities prior to her cardiac arrest.

Who were you thinking of when you came?

She leaned closer, ran her tongue from anus to clit. Cara tasted sweet and tangy. She did it again, and slid her thumbs close to Cara’s opening. 

I could get lost in doing this, she thought, before chiding herself. She ran her hands back up Cara’s thighs, pressed her legs wider. 

“…twenty-nine, thirty!” Jada gasped. 

Avery plunged her tongue inside of Cara, then dragged it up and over her clit. Normally, she’d be checking in with her partner and paying attention to the movements and sounds she was making. She would ask Cara what she liked, what felt good. What she didn’t like. 

But Cara was still limp and unresponsive, her only sounds and movements created by Jada’s forceful chest compressions. At this distance, in addition to the puffs of air, Avery heard her ribcage creaking and her stomach sloshing.

“Analyzing rhythm! Do not touch patient!” With a gasp, Avery lurched backward, lifting her hands from Cara’s skin. “Analyzing rhythm! Do not touch patient!” 

“I’ll take over compressions this time!” Grace said

“No shock advised. Resume two minutes of CPR.”

Grace started chest compressions. “Come on, Cara! One, two, three…”

As Avery slid back between Cara’s thighs, Jada asked: “The instructions mentioned, uh, nipple simulation?”

“Yes!” Avery sealed her mouth over Cara’s clit. She looked up from that position, her eyes briefly meeting Jada’s. Jada slid around to the top of Cara’s head and reached down to rub and pinch Cara’s nipples.

Avery slipped a finger inside of Cara.

Come on, don’t die.

Cara

Strong, unexpected sensations pulled her out of the black hole she’d fallen in, alone in her room.

She’d been recovering from a migraine, yes, but she felt incredibly horny. She locked the door, stripped off her clothes, and laid down on the bed. As she touched herself, she thought about Avery. They’d been dancing around each other for months, and now she shared a room connected to Avery’s. She’d been wet just thinking about their proximity.

Her chest ached, and she sucked in a few deep breaths, thinking the excitement was making her chest muscles tense. Then she’d come hard and fast, and the pain had exploded, burning down and around to her lower back and up into her jaw. She’d ridden out the orgasm and the pain until everything went dark.

Now, her eyes were open but blurry, dark shapes moving over and around her. And she felt it all, whatever was going on.

Rhythmic pressure to her chest. Her breastbone shoved down toward her heart, over and over again, creating a burning pain that spread outward from her sternum. Fingers pinching and rolling her nipples. Another finger thrusting in and out of her slit. A warm, wet mouth sucking on her clit.

A mask on her face. The pumping stopped and she felt her lungs inflate with warm air. That’s when she realized she couldn’t move. The air rushed back out of her as soon as the incoming flow stopped. Another breath, and the same involuntary exhalation.

Then hands pressed to her skin and her sternum jerked downward. She heard a familiar woman’s voice say: “One, two, three…”

Grace?

The mouth between her thighs sucked hard, tongue flicking across her clit. Another finger joined the first and curled inside of her. She wanted to moan, but she couldn’t take a breath, or move her hips, or reach out to touch whomever was pleasuring her.

“…fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen…” 

Chest compressions?

The pumping motion hurt her. The pain was sharp and burning, and she could feel the structure of her ribcage flex and pop with each thrust. The force sent air out from between her lips and forced her stomach to ripple and budge. She felt her limbs rock.

The compressions stopped, and there was a rush of welcome air down her throat.

Did I have a heart attack?

“Shit, is this helping?” Grace. Then the chest compressions resumed, followed by the fingers rubbing and pinching her nipples. “One, two, three…”

“If the kit comes with three injectors, then it must not be unheard of to use them,” Jada reasoned. “And we’re hopefully keeping her from being brain damaged, right?”

If Grace and Jada are talking, that means Avery is…

Cara felt the muscles inside of her quake. Avery must have felt it, because everything increased in intensity. The fingers pumped in and out of her hard, the mouth on her clit licked and sucked, and the hand on her abdomen slipped down to put light pressure on her anus. 

God, not being able to moan or move…

Grace was breathing hard above her. “…thirty!”

Jada must be breathing for me, she thought, as her chest rose and fell. Is she playing with my nipples, too?

She tried to picture how this must look. Her curvy body splayed naked out on the floor. Three attractive women in business attire crouched around her. Grace’s manicured hands between her breasts. Jada’s full lips wrapping around the pocket mask valve. Avery, her lanky body stretched out on the floor, face buried between Cara’s thighs.

Her muscles pulsated again.

Avery

She felt Cara’s vaginal muscles flex around her fingers, and darted her eyes up Cara’s prone form. Grace and Jada didn’t seem to see anything different, and Cara otherwise lay limp on the floor. 

I hope this is working.

Avery’s hair was damp with sweat. She removed her hands and mouth from Cara’s body and pushed herself upright, reaching up to unbutton her blouse. She was wearing a tank top underneath, and as soon as she had the buttons undone, she tore off the blouse and threw it to the side. Then she reached for the lube and dildo.

“…twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!” Grace leaned back, gasping. “The AED should analyze again soon, right?”

Jada gave Cara another two breaths. “This is your last round.”

Avery quickly tore open the package and drizzled lube into her palm. She pumped the dildo into her lubricated fist to spread the lube, then rubbed the tip of the dildo around Cara’s clit. Grace was pumping Cara’s heart again, and Avery could see her stomach rippling with each compression. After a few seconds, she ran the dildo down to Cara’s opening and thrust it inside of her. She imagined that if Cara were conscious, her back would have bowed and she would have let out a loud moan.

Or so she hoped.

“Analyzing rhythm, do not touch patient. Analyzing rhythm, do not touch patient!” 

Avery pushed the dildo deep inside of Cara and then leaned back. Everyone raised their hands, waiting.

Cara

Oh my God.

She laid on the floor during the AED’s analysis, her lungs burning, keenly aware of her own heart laying still in her chest. Blurry shapes moved around her, but she couldn’t see anyone clearly. Avery had left the dildo inside of her, and she could feel her own lubrication increase, oozing out from around the silicone cock.

“No shock advised. Resume CPR for two minutes.”

“Dammit, Cara!” Grace snapped. 

Chest compressions resumed, followed by the dildo pumping in and out of her. She heard a click and the sound of plastic hitting the floor, and then something slammed into her thigh, stinging and painful. The hard tip pressed to her skin for ten seconds before it was removed.

“…eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!”

Chest compressions paused, and she felt another two breaths forced into her lungs. Then, to her surprise, the mask was removed from her face, and a pair of soft lips connected with hers for a deep kiss. A warm, wet tongue prodded her own unresponsive tongue, while a hand found her left breast, capturing it as it wobbled with the force of chest compressions.

Further down, Avery splayed her hand on Cara’s lower abdomen, her thumb rubbing circles around her clit as she pumped the dildo in and out of her slit.

“…ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen…” Jada’s voice, counting.

“Come on, Cara,” Avery said, sounding breathless. “I know you can feel us. Make your way back.”

“…twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!”

This time, her head was tipped back aggressively, and fingers pinched her nose hard. The soft lips sealed over her own mouth before a deep breath expanded her lungs. The process was repeated, and then she heard Jada call out: “One, two, three…”

A white-hot pain snapped through the center of her chest before settling just to the right of her sternum. Jada gagged, and Avery exclaimed: “Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” Cara wanted to scream, but she still couldn’t move. She tried to focus on the pleasure instead.

Avery shifted again between her legs, and she felt her wet tongue replace the thumb, drawing shapes across her sensitive nub. She began thrusting the dildo in and out faster, angling the tip up toward the spongy front wall.

“…eight, nine, ten, eleven…”

Cara wanted to draw panting breaths, wanted to roll her hips, wanted to spread her legs wide. Wanted to thrust up toward the dildo and Avery’s tongue. Wanted to take her own breasts in her hands and pinch her hardened nipples. But she couldn’t move, and her heart refused to beat on its own.

The hot mouth on her own gave her two more breaths, then resumed making out with her, kissing and nibbling her lips.

Arousal, pain, and fear wove through her mind and body. The fear was that they would stop, and that what was left of her vision would fade, then her mind. Then she would be dead.

Don’t stop. Don’t stop.

Avery shoved the dildo inside of her and then held it there with her other hand. Cara felt the pressure grow and realized Avery was working two fingers inside of her, pushing them in between the dildo and her front wall. Then she rubbed, moving the fingers in short circles. All the while, her tongue kept drawing shapes on her clit.

The pressure was tremendous. Not just between her legs, but between her breasts. Her muscles tightened of their own accord. She felt her vaginal muscles tense, then her entire pelvic floor. Her legs didn’t exactly move, but she felt tension run down the backs of her thighs and into her calves.

“…twenty-nine, thirty!”

Then she came, hard, squirting into Avery’s mouth and over her fingers, her muscles pulsating around the dildo.

Avery

“She just came!” Avery blurted in surprise. “I didn’t know she… would. Or could.”

Grace’s cheeks rounded out as she blew into Cara.

“She’s still not breathing!” Jada gasped, rocking her shoulders over her hands and resuming chest compressions. “One, two, three, four…”

Avery removed her fingers but left the dildo inside of Cara. Her hands ran up and down Cara’s round thighs, and she leaned forward again, pressing a kiss to her mons. “I… Normally, I would stop now, but…”

“…fourteen, fifteen, sixteen…” 

Avery pushed herself up onto her knees, looking down at the scene in front of her. Cara’s eyes were closed now. Avery didn’t know what that meant, or when it had happened. Grace leaned over Cara, stroking her face and whispering something that Avery didn’t catch. Jada gave Cara forceful chest compressions, her hands thrusting down two inches into the other woman’s chest. With each thrust, her large, natural breasts quaked. Her nipples were still erect, drawing circles in the air as Jada worked. The force rolled through her body, forcing huffs of air between her lips and making her stomach ripple. Between her thighs, the dildo protruded, wet and glistening.

“…thirty!”

Grace sealed her mouth over Cara’s and gave her a deep, chest-rising breath. She followed quickly with a second, and then Jada resumed chest compressions.

“I’m going to keep at it,” Avery said. Her face flushed hot. “I don’t want to stop too soon.”

“I agree,” Grace said. She leaned down and wrapped her lips around Cara’s left nipple.

Avery leaned forward and ran her hands over Cara’s stomach as it rippled and bulged, feeling the displaced force as Jada pumped her chest. Her gaze briefly caught on the way Cara’s ribcage bobbed with each thrust, collapsing and then inflating over and over again.

She forced her eyes further down Cara’s body, to the neat triangle of hair above her clit. Grasping the end of the dildo, she started working it in and out of Cara, listening to the squelch it made and trying to match Jada’s rhythm.

The AED interrupted them. “Analyzing rhythm. Do not touch patient! Analyzing rhythm! Do not touch patient!”

They each leaned back, Avery making sure she wasn’t touching Cara’s legs. She scanned her way up and down Cara’s body again, her eyes lingering on the bruises and reddened skin between her breasts, then landing on the white pads and the leads running to the defibrillator.

“Shock advised! Charging. Do not touch patient!”

“That’s good, right?” Jada said. “I think that’s a good thing.”

A loud alarm pealed and an orange button on the AED started flashing. “Press the shock button. Do not touch patient! Press the shock button!”

Grace glanced around at the three of them and then reached over and pressed the button. Cara’s body tensed up and released, and the AED said: “Shock delivered. Resume CPR for two minutes.”

“Fuck!” Grace interlocked her fingers and started chest compressions. Her hands worked hard and fast, her shoulders rocking forward and down. She looked angry. “One, two, three… Wake the fuck up, Cara! Ah, six, seven eight…”

Avery removed the dildo and set it to the side before running her fingers up Cara’s slit. Soaking wet. Avery herself was wet. She wanted to straddle Cara’s leg, grind against her as she worked. Instead, shoved two fingers inside of Cara and pressed the heel of her hand hard against Cara’s clit. “Come on, Cara!”

Cara

The shock felt like someone kicked her directly in the heart. She couldn’t gasp for air. She felt her heart flop and go still for several long seconds. Then it started moving, quivering in her chest but not beating.

Fuck…

The women were all talking around her, sounding more and more desperate. She felt her lungs inflate again, and then hands back on her chest. 

The dildo was withdrawn and replaced with fingers. Avery’s hand worked her hard, rubbing her from both the inside and out.

“…twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty…”

A warm, soft mouth found hers. Not Grace’s, Jada’s. Jada sucked on Cara’s bottom lip.

Oh, fuck… I’m going to come again…

“…twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!”

Time stretched and contracted. She lost track of what happened when. Breaths and compressions, thrusting fingers. The chest compressions still hurt, but they seemed to arouse her now. The feeling of others supporting her life, giving her oxygen, circulating her blood. Giving her pleasure.

“Analyzing rhythm! Do not touch patient!” The hands all withdrew.

No, fuck!

“Analyzing rhythm! Do not touch patient! Shock advised! Charging!”

An ache ran from her lips down her throat and into her chest, then sank to her stomach and pooled between her thighs. A high-pitched alarm sounded.

“Press the shock button! Do not touch patient! Press the shock button! Do not touch patient!”

GAH! Another kick to the chest, and then the hands and lips were back on her again. Kissing her, pumping her chest, working in and out of her vagina.

The ache grew sweet.

I’m going to come!

Her heart twitched back to life. Lub dub. Lub dub. Lub dub.

Cara tried to take a breath, but her lungs didn’t respond. Jada’s lips sealed over hers and gave her what she needed just in time, before the air hunger became intolerable. Grace began pumping her chest again, unaware that Cara’s heart had started beating. Between her thighs, she felt a finger rub the ring of her anus before slipping inside.

That was enough to tip her over. This time, she sucked in a noisy breath. Her back arched and her legs shook. Chest compressions immediately halted, but Avery kept pumping her fingers in and out, letting Cara ride her orgasm to the finish.

Cara came down slowly, taking in ragged gasps of air. She wrenched her eyes open, blinked everything into focus. Avery removed her fingers and let her hands rest on Cara’s naked thighs.

Coughing, Cara gazed up at the trio of women. They each leaned in close, their heads almost touching. They were sweaty, lipstick smeared, hair mussed.

“Hey,” Avery said. She was stroking Cara’s skin in a slow, soothing pattern. “Just lay there and breathe, okay? You just went through a lot.”

Grace let out a huff of air and sagged back on her heels. “Holy shit.”

Jada crawled over to the sofa and brought back a throw pillow to put under Cara’s head.

“Just breathe,” Avery said again. She looked like she wanted to say something else, but she bit her lip and ran her hand up Cara’s stomach to the sore center of her chest. “You’re going to be okay.”

Cara nodded and closed her eyes, surrendering to exhaustion. The last thing she felt was a blanket draping over her naked body, protecting her from the growing chill in the air.

[ittybxttykxttytxtty]

everytime i read your updates, the first thing that always comes out of my mouth is "omg" in all emotions...happy, sad, extra sad, extra angsty sad 🥹

“Sorry.” He hums, uncurling his body from around you and lying back.

this is a crime, how dare you uncurl away 😮

The very thought of leaving his bed created a physical ache inside of you. You wanted this, you wanted him, and you wanted so much more than he was probably willing to even give.

im begging you...please talk it out. please talk everything out 😭

It had taken every ounce of control in Billy’s body, every shred, every atom of it, not to reach across and pull you back into his arms.

all im saying is take that control and shove it up the stalker's ass 😌✨ we dont need that around here 😌✨

What label would you even put on that?

generally? idiots to lovers. specifically? strangers to mates to trauma buddies to pervy!neighbors with a hint of emotion to friends to boss x employee to ex!hook up to trauma buddies again to currently roommate to whatever chelsea decides next honestly 😂 and we love that for us 💖

Billy was forever haunted by a day you would know him, really know him, and not turn away, or leave.

omg, i havent even thought of the reader finding out about the panther business stuff 😌🔫

That he didn’t like you like that, that he was just letting you stay here because he was nice. This was nothing more than pity, and held no meaning beyond friendship.

we should put i tape over the mouth of your conscience. we dont need that kind of negativity in our life 😌🔪

“I can’t remember a single thing about myself.” You whisper to him in horror.

this is me during the first days of being in college, i hated that introduce yourself stage 🥹🔫 idk who i am, please dont ask 🥹🔫

He wants to know me, you think affectionately.

THIS IS THE KIND OF THINKING WE NEED. STAY IN THIS KIND OF HEAD SET, PLEASE AND THANK YOU. 💕

"Good girl.”

everytime, everytime billy says this an angel gets its wings. fly high, lil cherub. 😌✨

You swallow.

resolve that issue fast enough and you'll be swallowing his big load instead. 😌✨

“It’s my favourite place for a nap. I think you’ll like it.”

all i can imagine is his panther napping while his tail wagging in relaxed form

We can, he’d responded, but you don’t need a suit. Wear whatever you’re comfortable with.

congratulations, you played yourself. in an instant i already knew what baby girl was going to do 😂😂😂

okay, im not gonna put every line i liked in this part because it will just be the whole part of her describing the pool and thats like a portion of this chapter. it must feel so nice and relaxing tho like imagine swimming in a dimly lit pool with rain falling and the fucking forest sound?!?!?!?!? im immature so id play in the pool like i was in the movie waterworld or recreate that scene in the latest Jurassic park movie, the one where bryce dallas howard was slowly swimming her way to safety. all in all, it feels fun having that kind of pool and now i want one. so thanks for that 🥹✨

Billy’s losing control. Fast.

lose it fasterrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

The panther had rejected this argument. The panther was currently trying to urge Billy into removing his clothes and joining you.

GO GO PANTHER GO!

Was this the right idea? Should he give you more space?

how much more space does she neeeeeddddd?!?! at this point she'll be even farther away than pluto 😭😭😭😭

“Well, I spent most of my time in the woods. I’d break into abandoned cabins and stay until peak season. I’d read whatever books I could find, and explore the forest to pass the time.”

....

"I’m not sure.” You whisper softly, worried about his reaction.

this is valid, take your time baby girl 😭😭 dont listen to me, im like an irrational thought you always ignore. 😭😭😭

“Don’t feel sorry for telling me how you feel. I’d rather you stop me now, than regret it, or feel bad about yourself later.”

I SEE YOU, MS. CHELSEA. I SEE YOU.

THERE'S NOTHING MORE SEXY THAN A MAN WHO RESPECTS YOUR BOUNDARIES. 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

honestly, the pool stole the spotlight, ik you already described it in the chapter before but like..in action? beautiful 💕

im kidding, the emotions, the yearning, the little tidbits about billy 🥹

Teeth

Part 18

Werepanther!Billy Russo x Female reader

Masterlist

Warnings: Conversations about stalking and being afraid, some sexual frustration.

You woke up in his arms. A deep sigh when you realise your face is buried in his chest, his scent wrapped as tightly around you as his body was.

Your leg is kicked over his hip, your nightgown rucked up but you barely care, not when his soft breaths are tickling your ear like that.

You can’t help it, your hand rubbing his back, appreciating the feel of his skin.

He lets out a soft sigh, waking slightly the more you begin to shift beside him.

“Sorry.” He hums, uncurling his body from around you and lying back. You withdraw your leg, sighing and stretching your arms upward, back arching naturally to help you wake up.

You yawn, groaning a little as you rub your eyes. 

You feel good. Really good. You’re well rested and you feel so calm, turning on your side to look at him shyly. He blinks slowly at you, fighting sleep.

“Hey.” You say on a raspy breath, closing your eyes for a moment as they sting a little in protest at being open.

“Morning.” He replies, his voice is deep and rough and sends tingles of delight over your skin. Fucking hell, his voice in the morning was divine. You wanted to hear him speak more.

“Hope I wasn’t too much trouble.” You mumble, eyes still closed.

He makes a small hum.

“No, you-” He breathes out a small sigh, “You were perfect.”

God, you wanted to record his voice and save it for later. You could feel your body slowly getting aroused, you peek an eye open to glance at him, observing his shirtless form.

Is this what waking up with him would have been like? Close, perhaps, but if you had woken up with him that morning after you’d had sex, you wouldn’t have been able to stop touching him. 

Unlike now, where you were only close enough to feel the residual heat of his skin.

Wow, this was a really confusing situation. 

You definitely shouldn’t stay, despite how badly you wanted to. He was a friend right now, and nothing more.

The very thought of leaving his bed created a physical ache inside of you. You wanted this, you wanted him, and you wanted so much more than he was probably willing to even give.

Your throat closes up, you feel tears pool in your eyes. You blink fast to get rid of them.

Sitting up, you avoid looking at him and you scoot your way to the edge of the bed.

“See you at breakfast.” You murmur lightly, walking out of his room and back to yours.

.

It had taken every ounce of control in Billy’s body, every shred, every atom of it, not to reach across and pull you back into his arms. 

He’d even held his breath at one point, your scent so thick in the air, soaked into his sheets and lingering on his very skin, another gulp of your strawberry scent would decimate his self control. 

He wasn’t sure what words could be used to define a relationship like yours. His employee that he’d slept with once before he fucked up and you ended things with him, in his bed, because you were too scared to sleep alone after he’d brought you to his home to protect you from someone following you.

What label would you even put on that?

Luck, Billy thinks, because it gave him a second chance, one he would not destroy again by coming on too fast or leaving you alone. Something sours in his stomach at the idea of him considering this situation lucky, there was still someone out there after you, not that they would ever get another chance to be near or hurt you again. He would make sure of it.

The panther inside of him had been silent, placated by a night beside you, hums of serenity in his head, which had only stopped the moment you’d gotten up and left the room. 

Billy was forever haunted by a day you would know him, really know him, and not turn away, or leave. He was tormented by thoughts of you, by the ways you could bring him to his knees if you so wanted.

He’d do anything for you.

The concept of it didn’t even frighten him.

.

Billy makes a little sound to get your attention, and you turn to him with the kettle in hand.

“The kettle has a short somewhere and doesn’t turn on unless it’s in the right position, here-” He extends his hands out to you and you curiously place the kettle, halfway filled with water, into his hands.

You watch him angle the kettle slightly before slipping into the base and clicking it on. The little light in the on switch turns red for a second before blinking off. 

You’re mildly amused as you watch him swear under his breath, flipping the switch off, before turning it back on again. This time, it stays on and begins heating the water for your tea.

You give him a little smile of thanks when he turns to face you, not even bothering to ask him why he doesn’t just get a new one, before he’s explaining it to you.

“It was a housewarming gift from my friend.”

You nod in understanding.

“It’s probably not that hard to fix. I can take a look at it while I’m here… If you’d like.” You offer, already thinking about the tools you’d need to strip the wires.

He nods, tilting his head a little, looking at you with a depth in his gaze that makes your stomach feel like it’s twisting.

“Thank you.” Billy says, taking a step forward.

He takes another step and you swallow, hands curling into fists.

Was he going to kiss you?

You have to tilt your head higher the closer he got.

You jerk in surprise when the kettle clicks off behind you and he’s reaching for it.

Right…

You press your teeth together as a flood of negative emotions flood your mind. That he didn’t like you like that, that he was just letting you stay here because he was nice. This was nothing more than pity, and held no meaning beyond friendship.

It almost chokes you, the pain in your chest is searingly sharp.

You blink, pretending everything is alright, turning to watch him pour steaming water into two mugs.

“Sugar?” He asks, after placing a tea bag into each cup and letting it sit for a while.

You tell him how much, and you watch him prepare your tea how you like it, looking up at him, desperate to see more of this side of him, yearning to touch him.

You find yourself looking out of his windows, looking at your own apartment in the distance.

You can’t see much since the curtains are drawn, but you imagine what he could have seen when they were open.

It makes you a little uncomfortable now, that you know he wasn’t the only person watching you. That there was someone else peering into your life, enjoying your suffering. Why else would they have photographed the robbery instead of helping you? 

“Can I ask you something?” You ask softly, deep in thought, still staring at your shut curtains.

“Anything.” He replies.

“You’ve seen the photos. What do you think he- the stalker I mean- what do you think they think of me?”

He looks up at you for a moment, and doesn’t say anything until you glance at him curiously.

“I’m not equipped enough to give an analysis-”

You smile.

“Fair enough. But I just want to know what you think.”

He inclines his head, sliding your mug of tea over to you.

“Dinah said yesterday, that they might want you to feel scared, maybe they enjoy that.”

“Yeah but, don’t I look scared enough?” You say with a laugh.

“Maybe not.” He answers softly.

You smile sadly, shaking your head.

“So this person thinks I’m weak? Or… vulnerable?”

“If that’s what they think then they’re wrong.”

“Are they?” You mumble beneath your breath, looking down into your tea.

He tilts his head down, to find his way into your line of sight. You smile when you notice the odd way he bends to get your attention.

“Yes. And it doesn’t matter what this person thinks of you.” He follows easily.

“They’ve been watching me for a while, seeing way more intimate moments than I probably even know. What if this person knows me better than anyone?” 

Your heart squeezes in your chest, paranoia filling you, the idea that you really were just weak and scared becoming your most defining attributes.

“Then tell me something.” Billy says decisively.

You look up at him warily.

“What?”

“Tell me something you’ve never told anyone.” 

The corner of your mouth twitches up in amusement. You try your hardest to come up with something and fail. 

“I can’t remember a single thing about myself.” You whisper to him in horror.

He smiles, and then you watch his nose scrunch as he breaks into a grin. Adorable and boyish, you feel your stomach squeeze in delight.

“Okay okay,” You say, trying to come up with something that you’re sure you’ve never told anyone, “Oh here’s one- watching videos of people painting calms me down sometimes- Oh no, my therapist knows that. Shit.”

You think again for a long moment.

“My favourite painter is Vincent Van Gogh?” You offer instead.

Billy inclines his head in acceptance.

“Why?”

You blink.

“I like the way he doesn’t blend his brushstrokes, that you can see each one and see the separation of the colour, and still have a really amazing painting.”

He smiles at you, his eyes hold a depth that you adore.

“Tell me something else.” He says.

He wants to know me, you think affectionately.

“I think scars are beautiful,” You murmur, “They show where you’ve been and what you’ve lived through, and in a way, they’re no different than brushstrokes.”

“I have a lot of scars.”

“I know.”

I’ve seen you naked, you want to remind him.

The moment feels charged, soft electricity humming in the air, a call between your bodies.

“Well now I know things about you that no one else knows, and when I say that you’re smart and very brave, you have to believe me right?”

“Don’t guess,” He says, hand cupping your face, “believe me.”

“I guess.”

“I believe you.” You echo.

The corner of his mouth lifts into a smile.

“Good girl.”

You swallow.

Suddenly he blinks, tilting his head as if he’s just thought of something and smiles.

“I just remembered, I didn’t show you the whole house yet.”

He doesn’t say anything further, simply taking your hand in his, turning around to lead you in the direction of his bedroom.

Your heart pounds in your chest, ambling behind him with your mug of steaming tea still in hand, you try your best not to spill as you walk.

“It’s my favourite place for a nap. I think you’ll like it.” He says, and you study the back of his head, desperate to memorize everything about him.

When you’re back in the green walls of his bedroom, he releases your hand and approaches a wooden door you had assumed was a closet.

He tugs the door open, and you look at him curiously as he stands beside the door. He inclines his head for you to go in.

It’s a little dark, but you can see the little room immediately leads into a stairway, and your heart beats a little fast as you step in.

The space is enclosed, and the next thing you know Billy is right behind you, his voice in your ear.

“Don’t be scared,” he soothes, “Go up.”

“I’m not scared.” You grumble, gripping the handrail to step carefully to the top where you can see another door at the top of the stairs.

At the top, you don’t hesitate to turn the doorknob, pushing the door open swiftly.

The light hits you all at once and you squint, frowning in discomfort as your eyes try to adjust.

When your vision finally clears, your mouth drops open.

It’s a sunroom.

Sitting in the centre of his rooftop, is a room in the shape of a glass hexagon, large, soft, dark blue couches along each edge, filled with an array of potted plants and throw pillows. 

In the middle of the room, is a large stone table, with short legs.

The sun streams through the glass, lighting up the room effortlessly, an immaculate display of design.

“Billy.” Is all you can find the words to say.

He chuckles behind you, moving to sit on the couch.

“It came with the house. It was the main reason I bought it. Fixed it up in my first summer here and I’m glad I did.”

You nod in agreement, still looking around in wonder.

After a moment, you sit as well, the couch embracing your body easily.

You smile, tuck your legs under you and bring your cup of tea up to your lips for a sip.

It’s lovely, it’s cozy, you watch the sun shine into his hair.

He looks at you, and you feel like cold butter melting on warm toast.

Your grip on your cup tightens.

.

He’s dangerous.

He’s the most dangerous person in the world.

He’s dangerous because he cares, because he’s kind to you, because he’s patient and calm and is too willing to accommodate your needs.

He’s dangerous because he’s so far away, because he won’t kiss you and he won’t touch you and you have to stand here and pretend like you haven’t seen him naked and you don’t know what his mouth tastes like and pretending is going to kill you much faster than any stalker is.

You stand outside of his home gym, listening to him grunt as he took swings at a punching bag. You’d stepped in a few moments before to ask about swimming in his pool.

He’d been shirtless, covered in a sheen of his own sweat, a single strand of his hair sticking to his forehead.

Hey, I don’t have a swimsuit but I really wanna go in your pool. Can we take a quick trip back to my place?

We can, he’d responded, but you don’t need a suit. Wear whatever you’re comfortable with.

Any then you’d nodded, and left like an idiot because you couldn’t very well form new thoughts with him looking like that, right?

Fuck you, Billy Russo, you think, titling your head back to take a breath, fuck you and your hot fucking body and your stupidly handsome face.

You close your eyes, remembering the way he looked, lean and muscular, his hair moving with each powerful swing of his arm.

You gasp, arousal sticky between the lips of your cunt, soaking into the fabric of your underwear.

He’d said to wear what you felt was comfortable, and a devious thought fills your head. That maybe you’d be comfortable wearing nothing at all.

It feels easy enough to do. Step into his lovely pool room, take a deep breath in, and out, pulling your shirt off, and dropping your shorts unceremoniously onto the floor. You reach for it, folding it neatly and placing it onto the wooden bench on the far wall of the room.

There's a small shelf on the wall nearby with white rolled towels, maybe about five or six, and you consider them carefully as you approach the pool.

Your plan is foolproof, turn on the overhead rain feature, tug your underwear off and get into the pool as fast as possible. 

There's a panel on the wall near the entrance of the room, but there's also another waterproof control panel on the floor beside the pool for ease of access.

You smile absentmindedly, admiring the foresight that went into the pool design, wondering how much of a hand the man constantly on your mind had in the planning of it all.

You second guess yourself at the water’s edge. Were you really going to do this? 

Yes, you decide, sitting beside the pool so you could adjust the settings easily. 

The first thing you do is dim the lights, bringing it down to a much lower setting, and then turn on the small lights above your head that looked like stars. 

When it was satisfactory, you eagerly tap the tiny rain symbol on the panel, and select the lowest intensity.

To your amazement, it starts of like soft drizzle, and you pause to take in the ambience of it.

Some parts of the pool’s edge are lined with plants and large rock shapes to give the place a very natural effect. It’s got a kidney shape, or maybe something more irregular, that helps play into the nature theme you assume Billy was going for. 

After a moment, you increase the rain intensity, feeling it soak into your hair and over your shoulders. The droplets hit the leaves of the surrounding plants, creating a symphony of relaxing sounds.

It excites you now, to swim naked here, you tug your undergarments off so much more easily in the low light, curious to feel what it’s like to swim in a marvel like this.

You place your wet underthings near the pool’s edge, but far enough to keep it out of the rain, and you slip into the pool with a deep breath.

The water is warm, not too warm, but enough that you don’t shiver when you climb in. The rain falls around you, droplets disturbing the water, leaving transient ripples only there to be replaced by more raindrops.

It’s magical, the way this space makes you feel. You take a breath and dip your head below the surface of the water, feeling your hair float around you.

You come back up for air, taking your time to move around the pool. You’ve never swam naked before, but in the low light, it’s not as scary as you thought it would be.

You paddle around for a little, and after a while, you find your way back to the nearby control panel to explore other features.

You discover there’s an option to light up the interior of the pool, and another feature that plays ambient forest sounds. You find that you don’t like that as much, because it reminds you of past experiences you’d rather forget.

You find a comfortable spot on the edge of the pool, folding your hands under your head to rest your cheek comfortably, half floating in the gentle artificial rain.

You’re incredibly relaxed when you feel the rain intensity soften on your back. Peeking an eye open, you raise your head with a smile when you catch sight of Billy at the door.

“Sorry, didn’t want to disturb you.” He murmurs, approaching calmly. He’s still dressed the way he was before, shirtless, with a pair of dark grey sweatpants on his lower half.

“That’s alright.” You gulp, eyes trailing down his form shamelessly, too caught up in the way he looks to worry about him looking at you.

When he’s halfway to you, he stops suddenly. You raise an eyebrow at the small shocked expression on his face. You tilt your head curiously when you see his fists clench tightly.

“Are you naked?” He asks in a calm voice, his overall demeanour clearly displaying that he was not calm.

“Yes.” You say slowly.

You watch his jaw tighten, you swear you’ll hear his teeth crack with the amount of pressure he puts on them.

“You said to wear what’s comfortable.” You defend yourself, pushing away from the wall of the pool to float on your back peacefully, no doubt giving him a subtle glimpse of your nude body in the low light. You can’t discern the exact expression written on his face.

“You can join me if you’d like.” You offer.

You watch him debate with himself, unsure of what exactly is going on in his head, but you try to give him the space to decide, turning away from him to glide to the other end of the pool, holding your breath as the water moves all around you.

.

Billy’s losing control. Fast.

The panther has locked him into place, refusing to allow him to move away from you, after he’d decided he was going to allow you your privacy and gently turn down your offer of a swim.

Of course he wanted nothing more than to shed his clothes and join you, but he didn’t want to intrude.

The panther had rejected this argument. The panther was currently trying to urge Billy into removing his clothes and joining you.

It’s a war within himself, fighting with the deeper, darker base urges inside of him, rational thought being pulled from his mind as the beast demands he go to you.

He watches you push away from the wall, your head dipping under the surface as your ass raises into the air for a small moment. Graceful in your movement. 

Even with his ability to see in the low light, the small ripples of the water caused by the small raindrops obscure his view of your body.

Naked, he reminds himself.

The beast inserts imagery of your naked bodies against each other in the water, his arms caging you in while he sinks his cock into you.

He exhales, reaching down to push his pants down the length of his legs.

When he has his boxers off, and he’s just as naked as you are, he hesitates again.

Was this the right idea? Should he give you more space?

He turns away from the pool’s edge.

The panther, having enough of his internal battle, takes sudden control of his legs, one small push, and he tumbles into the water against better thought.

.

You take a breath when you reach the other end, only distracted by the sound of something large crashing into the water behind you. 

You turn suddenly in surprise, watching as Billy breaks the surface of the water, shaking his head and pushing his now wet hair back to pin you with his dark gaze.

You glance down shyly, unable to see anything more than dark shapes in the water, nothing that can tell you the state of his undress.

“So, h- how did you come up with the design for this place?” You ask, lowering your body into the water until only your head is above the surface, the water licking at your neck and chin, soft droplets just barely pattering onto your head.

He stays a small distance away, a wet strand of hair falling in front of his face as he begins speaking. You try not to get distracted by the way he looks.

“Remember when I told you I ran away from that group home when I was fifteen?”

You incline your head in affirmation.

“Well, I spent most of my time in the woods. I’d break into abandoned cabins and stay until peak season. I’d read whatever books I could find, and explore the forest to pass the time.”

You blink, your throat closing up at the lonely existence he was painting for you.

“I thought I hated it. When I came back to civilization, I didn’t think I would want reminders of it, but after all of that, I realised, that was the very first place I heard myself think.”

He looks up, and you keep your eyes on him.

“In the dark, under the trees, looking up at the stars.”

He looks back at you, and you can see the faint shine of the lights in his eyes.

“That was the first place I learned who I really was.”

You smile softly at him, inching closer.

“That’s amazing, Billy.” You hum.

He moves closer too, unable to be too far from you, or so you hope quietly.

“I know you’re afraid of the forest, of the reminder.”

You swallow, nodding, looking down at the ripples he creates as he moves.

“It makes me feel like I have no control, anything could happen and I have no power to stop it.”

It’s easier with you around, you want to say to him.

Like he did before, he inserts himself into your line of sight, pulling a smile onto your face at his antics.

“You have to know by now that you’re not powerless.”

You open your mouth to protest.

He cups your cheeks, bringing you close to his body, until you swear he’s touching you all over.

“Don’t argue.” He says in a stern tone that makes you gulp, looking up at him demurely, feeling yourself get comfortably small under his gaze.

“You’re resilient, you’ve been through so much and you’re still so strong.”

“But this is breaking me.” You confess, voice cracking as tears rise to the surface, having never admitted it out loud, not even to your therapist.

He looks pained for a moment, eyebrows drawing together, a tilt of his head before he’s dipping to take you into his arms.

A few tears fall, your breathing shallow as you cry for a moment, emotions overwhelming you, stealing your ability to breathe.

His large palm moves over your bare back, soothing you, his cheek is cool where it presses against yours.

You sniffle after a moment, getting control of your emotions, clinging to him in the water, unwilling to let him go.

He says your name softly, reverently, capturing your attention.

“You’re not broken yet, sweetheart, and I promise I’ll keep you safe. No one is going to touch a hair on your head, and no one is ever going to get the chance to hurt you.”

“That’s not your job, Billy. You don’t have to.” You protest.

His hands rise to cup your face, drawing back a little so that he can look at you, nose to nose.

“I want to. I want you to feel safe, and protected and relaxed because you deserve to be.”

You make a small sound, and before you can stop yourself, you rise onto your toes to kiss him.

His reaction is instantaneous, gripping the back of your head to press his mouth firmly to yours, a low groan in his throat, something dark and desperate.

You reach for him, wrapping your arms around his bare shoulders, pulling him close until your bodies are pressed to each other.

His hands grip your thighs, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his hips, the water sloshing as you move so eagerly.

You gasp against his mouth as you feel the largeness of his erection press against your thigh.

He grips your jaw tightly, placing punishing kisses onto your mouth, no doubt bruising your lips with the fervour.

His desire is matched with your own, your fingers scraping against his skin, wandering over the scars on his shoulder, smoothing over his wet hair.

“Are you sure?” He pants against your mouth, groaning when he feels your lips kiss the spot right below his ear.

He says your name on a groan, tilting his head back when your teeth scrape the base of his neck.

“Sweetheart,” He tries again, “You need to tell me.”

You pause suddenly, gasping as you come back to your senses. In truth, you weren’t sure about this, past experience telling you that doing this with him was probably a bad idea.

You give him a shy look, his breathing harsh as he looks into your eyes.

“I’m not sure.” You whisper softly, worried about his reaction.

Like he can sense your worry, he nods, withdrawing from your grip.

“That’s alright. It’s okay to be unsure.” He says, turning away for a moment, cupping a handful of water to pour onto his head.

Yet guilt fills you, past experience trying to pressure you into thinking that you’ve done something wrong.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper.

He turns back, concern in his gaze as he drops himself to eye level with you.

“Don’t feel sorry for telling me how you feel. I’d rather you stop me now, than regret it, or feel bad about yourself later.”

You think about mentioning your fear of him leaving again, after he’s done that so many times before, but you decide against it, because it would do no good at this point to say.

“I like you, I really do,” You whisper, “but I worry I’m using you to distract myself from the way I feel. That’s not fair to you.” 

He looks down, a somber expression on his face that makes your heart crack.

“I get it. Trust me, I do, I’m here for you, anything you want.”

You reach out to take his hand, bringing it up to your face so that you can kiss the back of his knuckles.

“Maybe we can take it slow? Until I can get my brain around things?”

He gives you a little smile, nodding acceptingly at the notion.

“Slow is good.” He says, leaning forward to kiss the top of your head.

You smile happily, looking up at him, feeling something different in your chest, a fondness, an appreciation, like nothing you’ve ever felt before. You may be naked, but you’re not remotely concerned about him violating the boundaries of your consent.

You toss your arms around him, holding him close , feeling him return the embrace.

After a few moments, you lean back, smiling up at him.

“Exactly how hard can this artificial rain fall?” You ask playfully.

He takes on an amused expression at the idea.

.

.

.

[giggly-squiggily]

Brush Of A Feather (My Hero Academia)

You know those random ideas you get at like- 3 am and can't get out of your mind? This is one of those ideas. I've had such a craving for Dabihawks lately, and the thought of Hawks messing with Dabi mid meeting was too funny to pass up! I hope you like it! :D

Summary: Dabi is bored during a meeting with the League. Hawks decides to relieve him of it.

CW: Swearing, pseudo death threats from Dabi

League meetings, Dabi learned from his time here, were like old tv shows. Usually meetings were held to go over and review already known facts and leads- the more sensitive stuff coded for protection- to make sure everyone was on the same page. Any new information they received was dealt out in smaller meetups, meaning Dabi already knew the scoop on practically everything they covered.

Case and point- he was bored.

And he wasn’t the only one it seems. Beside him, Toga was quietly clicking through various online quizzes. On his other side, Spinner was watching frog videos.

Slumping in his seat, Dabi let his eyes closed, wondering how long he’d get away with his nap before Shigaraki got on him for snoring. He was just starting to drift off when he felt it: a light brush of something against the back of his ears.

Dabi was covered in scar-tissue. There was little skin on him that wasn’t burned beyond recognition. That didn’t mean he couldn’t still feel things- it was just less sensitive compared to his healthy skin. In this case, whatever was brushing against his ear had enough force behind it he could feel it. Reaching back, he swatted at the disturbance.

Only for it to come again. This time against his other ear.

Waving a hand back, he grunted in frustration, concluding it must have been some bug that decided to mess with him. He went to grab it, only for it to slip through his fingers. Another brush- this time against his neck. He slapped at it- gritting his teeth.

“Is there a problem, Dabi?” Kurogiri asked him, putting him in the spotlight. So much for sleeping. “I’m fine- an annoying fly, that’s all.” He crossed his arms and slumped back, determined to ignore the returning flutter against his ears.

“Very well then. Please continue to pay attention.” The meeting went on, and Dabi closed his eyes. The fluttering against his scars suddenly stopped, only to return to his nose. Swatting at his face, he sputtered and glared, a glimpse of red darting out of his vision.

Red? Oh that son of a-

He looked around the room, trying to find the source of the feather. When all the windows and shadowed parts of the meeting room proved empty, he pulled up messenger on his computer:

D: Really? A Feather? I’m surprised you haven’t just snuck in.

H: It’s more fun this way. Besides, you know how your boss is. He wouldn’t let me within five feet of these meetings.

D: More fun, eh? Sure, let’s go with that

The feather wiggled under his nose once more, and this time Dabi couldn’t hold back the sneeze. “Ah-choo!” He jumped in his seat, just barely covering his mouth. Toga made a face at him while Mr. Compress passed down a box of tissues, muttering a “bless you” to him. Dabi groaned in irritation as he cleaned up. Once that was said and done, he wrote once more.

D: What are you, a cartoon villain?

H: You’re cute when you sneeze. You jump like a foot in the air. It’s like you're being jet-propelled.

D: I’m not cute, and that was ridiculous. Stop tickling my nose!

H: Okay <3

Dabi rolled his eyes, pretending the sudden warmth on his cheeks was from anger. The feather was once again out of view, and he felt himself start to calm down. The meeting droned on, and he slumped in his seat once more, closing his eyes.

The feather was back, brushing his ears. He ignored it. ‘I won’t give you the win, birdie.’ He decided. All was going well until he felt the back of his shirt being pulled on, the small feather slipping down his back.

He jerked in his chair, eyes widening and lips pressed together. Oh come on- not now. Not here, you ass! The feather ran slowly up and down his spine, tracing random patterns against his patch skin, especially staying within the healthy parts of his skin. Shaking, he reached for his computer.

D: Get it out. Now.

H: What? You said don’t tickle your nose. You never said don’t tickle you at all.

D: You’re a dead bird I swear if you don’t take your nasty feather-

H: I thought you liked my feathers. You always say how soft they are. Doesn’t it feel good? I bet it tickles like crazy huh? Look how squirmy you are!

It did, in fact, tickle like crazy. The feather traced over his stomach and hips with just enough pressure to leave Dabi fighting down the giggles, a fist pressed into his mouth while the other tried and failed to subtly grab the offending object. Just when he thought he had it, it would shoot upward and behind, giving his one good shoulder a friendly flick before returning to the front of his torso.

D: Birdie I’m gonna deep fry you if you don’t get your ducking feather out of my shirt

D: Duck

D: Graham Autocorrect

D: FUCK

H: I’m dying- Oh my god you’re adorable!

D: Shut the hell up and stop tickling me!

H: Say you love me first.

D: Hawks

H: Say it. Say: “I love you, Keigo!”

D: You're an ass

H: And you're stubborn. Come on, you know it’s true.

Dabi’s face was on fire, as were his lungs. He doubled down in his chair in an effort to hide it along with the few snickers he couldn’t keep back. The feather was now against the non-scarred part of his ribs, tracing out ‘I <3 U’ over and over in the same place and effectively driving Dabi insane. He knew it would be simple- just type “I love you”. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done it before.

But this was a matter of principle! He refused to give up so easily.

“What do you think of this, Dabi?” Shigaraki asked, bringing his attention back to the meeting. Shit, shit shit. Of all the times! At that moment, the feather seemed to pause as well- mercifully moving to a different spot. “Uh- ahem. What?” He asked, earning a few snickers from Twice and Toga. Shigaraki gave him a slow blink, as if he’d already asked Dabi this same question multiple times. Perhaps he did. “We were discussing what to do regarding the Nomu?”

“Oh yeah! Right- Nomu.” His brain wracked to Nomu topics before settling on the most recent information. “Right- we were talking about relocating them. The previous location has been compromised since our last use of them, so I think we should-ahehahahahahahahhahahaha!”

The villains around him blinked, taken aback by Dabi’s sudden laughing fit. The brunette clamped a hand over his mouth, face burning red and eyes wide. “We should…laugh?” Mr. Compress asked. “I don’t get it. What’s so funny, Dabi?” Twice piped up.

Of course, Hawks had decided to wait until he was mid sentence before diving the feather beneath his arm. Even now, the dastardly thing was making his life hell, twisting and twirling against the sensitive skin. He needed to get out of here.

“Ihiihiihihihi- pfft! Fucking stop it! I’m gehhehehetting some ahahhair!” He stumbled away like a drunk, one hand clasping the affected armpit while he weakly pushed open the doors, leaving an equally confused yet highly amused group of villains behind him.

~~~

“GET OFF!” Dabi reached into his shirt and tossed out the feather, glaring as it floated around him. As it blew off in the wind, Hawks appeared by his side, eyes dancing with glee. “Hello matchbox. Did your meeting go well?” He teased, cackling when Dabi gave him the meanest stink eye he could muster. “Oh you- come here!” Dabi grabbed him around the waist, fingers dancing up and down his sides and earning loud, birdlike squawks and giggles from the blonde. “Ah! Ahehahahahahhahaha! Dahhahahahahhahabi! Coohohohohohome ohohohohohon Iihihihihiihm shahahahhahhahhaarry!” Hawks wailed in glee, weakly twisting in his boyfriend’s arms. Any anger the taller man felt faded away immediately, replaced with wary amusement. “Heh, you’re such a dork. Tickling me mid-meeting? What are you, the tickle monster?”

“Buhuhuhuhuuhuhut yoohohohohohou lohohohohoohohoked boohoohohohohoohred!” Hakws argued, laughter increasing when Dabi found that terrible spot where his wings connected with his back. “AHHAHEHAHHHAHA NOOHOOHOHOOHO NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHHERE!”

“Heh, cutie.” Dabi grinned and stopped his tickles, keeping his arms around the exhausted bird and letting him rest against his chest. “That’s just a taste of what’s coming to you tonight. Be ready.”

“Ahehehe…hehehe…yohohohu nehehehver sahahahid it.” Hawks huffed, looking up at him then. If Dabi didn’t know any better, he’d say Hawk’s was pouting. “Say what? Oh…” Dabi blinked, remembering what the original deal was. Looking down at his boyfriend, he leaned in and pressed their foreheads together, enjoying how flustered he made the usually confident hero. “Right. Let’s see…was it ‘I  love KFC?’” Hawks smacked his shoulder, earning a snort. “No, no, it was…ah. ‘I love bomber jackets.’” That earned him a squeeze to the ribs. “Okay okay!” He laughed as he leaned in, their lips barely touching. “I love you, Keigo. That’s what you wanted to hear, right?”

Hawk’s returning kiss was all the answer he needed.

Thanks for reading!

[yslkook]

UNFUCKWITABLE (9)

mind of mine masterlist

summary: jungkook convinces you to take a staycation with him for a few days (a week).

pairing: “badboy” jk x “shy/reserved” oc

warnings: cursing, alc, excessive use of pet names, oc and jk discuss their unprotected sex practices, vomiting, some jealous jk, mild exhibitionism, fingers in oc's mouth grinding, making out, oral (m), titjob

word count: 7k

a/n: if you want to be tagged, send an ask plz. would love to hear your thoughts. also...cant believe mom manifested into butter jk im in pain

****************************************

Jungkook is unsurprised to enter your home with the key you’d given him the other week and find it completely empty. You’ve been working early mornings and incredibly late nights for the last week and a half, and he can tell it’s beginning to take a toll on you. The first sign that you were beginning to wear down was when you had skipped dinner in favor of sleeping. The second was when you had snapped at him in irritation and then immediately cried over hurting his feelings.

He can think of about a dozen other things, including the even more pronounced bags under your eyes. You’ve always had dark circles under your eyes naturally from hyperpigmentation but these days, not even concealer can help you mask them.

In fact, the reason that you’d even given him a key was because you felt like work was taking over your entire life. You’d hardly had a chance to see anyone who wasn’t a work colleague, and you just missed Jungkook. At least this way, you could wake up and go to bed with him.

You had only been calling Jungkook your partner just shy of four months, and he had a key to your home. Perhaps it was fast for other people, but with him, it felt right. So he keeps a copy of your keys on his lanyard- it’s possibly his most prized possession right now. Jungkook usually only comes when you ask him to, he’s been staying at your place for the last week because of how tired and busy you were.

Usually you stop by the tattoo parlor at least once or twice a week, but you have been sparse because of work. So he’s here, in your home without you. It felt strange the first few times he’d been here without you, but then he started leaving little pockets of himself- his shoes next to yours, his hair product on your shelf, and his two of his jackets hanging near yours in the closet. He’d even purchased a new plant to keep on your windowsill in your living room (which you take turns dutifully watering and making sure she gets enough sunlight).

It’s all very domestic. He had jokingly told you not to expose him to your shared friends, specifically Mina and Mei. To which you had rolled your eyes.

Though some small, very small, part of him wonders if the magic will fade away soon. Considering how fast you both are moving both physically into your home and in your relationship.

It’s only been a few months, and you both were incredibly comfortable with the idea of unprotected sex- after all, Jungkook always pulls out in time. Until, of course, you’d had a pregnancy scare. Hoseok and Yoongi, ever the pair of realists, had scolded him when Jungkook had revealed that you both hardly ever used any protection-

“Are you trying to knock her up? Is that it? You both ready to potentially be parents?” Yoongi says mildly as he polishes off his wine, looking at Jungkook expectantly. Jungkook’s cheeks burn.

“No, I’m not trying to knock her up and no, nobody’s trying to be parents-”

“You both are lucky you haven’t knocked her up already,” Hoseok says, with more heat in his voice, “You both are fucking stupid, but you especially.” He even smacks the back of his head with the book in his hands and Jungkook glares at him.

“Hey, my pull out game has always been strong, and I’m serious about her. We wouldn’t fuck raw if-”

“Oh, yes, then we definitely have nothing to worry about,” Yoongi says, “Keep it moving, Hobi.

“Talk to her about it, or else,” Hoseok threatens, “I don’t wanna hear about another pregnancy scare because you’re both idiots.”

“I know, I know,” Jungkook relents, “We’ve been talking about it. It just sucks that birth control can fuck up a woman’s body like that, you know? Mood changes and appetite changes, nausea and everything…”

“You could always get a vasectomy,” Yoongi says bluntly.

“Mei said the same thing. She was way more mean about it, though. Told me she’d cut my balls off if I didn’t get my shit together.”

“I don’t blame her, considering what a mess you both were last month.”

“We were not a mess!”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so stressed ever in your life, not even when your first bike got run over by a car. Or when your tattoo got infected three consecutive times. And I’ve never seen her cry so much before.”

“Alright, maybe we’re a little bit of a mess.”

In the end, you and Jungkook had both decided that yes, condoms were probably a good idea. Considering the pregnancy scare you had last month, you both were on edge and a little paranoid. Jungkook hadn’t even mentioned the idea of you taking birth control or getting an IUD, knowing that your last few experiences with the former were unpleasant-

“I can get a vasectomy, you know. In fact, Yoongi suggested it,” Jungkook shrugs nonchalantly but your jaw drops.

“Jungkook. I don’t think vasectomies are reversible like that. Think about what you’re saying,” You murmur, “I’m touched you’d consider a surgical procedure so I don’t have to take birth control, but what if-”

“I looked it up, they can be reversed-”

“But Jungkook! You don’t know that, what if you want to have kids later and you can’t because you decided on a fucking whim to get a vasectomy? It’s still trauma on your body! You can’t just snip snap, snip snap your vas deferens tube whenever you please. At least with birth control you can start and stop it, even if that’s not a completely benign process.”

Jungkook looks at you long and hard, his tongue poking his cheek and you sigh. “But I don’t-”

“Honey. I appreciate your thoughtfulness,” You murmur, squeezing his hands in yours, “But we’re both being stupid. We’re both acting like condoms don’t exist. Why don’t we start with condoms and then think about getting your tubes tied or me getting an IUD?”

“You spoiled me,” Jungkook complains dramatically and drops his head to your chest, “With your pussy. I’m spoiled now.”

“Shut up.”

And so now, a box of condoms sits in the drawer of your nightstand and you’ve taken to bringing a few with you in your purse as well (and so does he). You’d been far more nervous buying condoms than you’d ever been of buying anything else, and Jungkook had only cockily grinned at you.

Today’s Friday and it’s the day of your deadline. Meaning that you’d hopefully be home soon and be his for the rest of the weekend. He fully plans on getting you to relax and stay in for the majority of the weekend, so that you can catch up on sleep.

But then you come home past dinner (you had sent him a text earlier telling him that you were going to be late. He knows your mood is sour- you had been in a foul mood all week, and the fact that you’re so close to being home but so far just makes it worse). You come home with an empty belly, a weary mind and wetness along your lash line. Climbing into bed next to him, you circle your arms around his waist and cry tiredly into his chest.

“J-Jungkook,” You hiccup, “I’m so tired, they kept me s-so late today but it’s done. Everything is finished-”

“Oh, baby,” He sighs, rubbing your back soothingly, “It’s okay. We can just sleep now. You should take a few days off next week, baby.”

“I don’t know…” But your eyes are wide and considering it.

“You’ve been running on empty all week,” Jungkook points out, “For longer than that. Your job can handle two or three days without you while you recharge. Text your boss, baby. You need to rest, too.”

He nudges your cheek with his nose and you hum in agreement. “Okay. Five day weekend? Sure you won’t get tired of me?” You murmur and laugh when he squeezes your waist.

“We can make it a staycation.”

And you’re already texting your boss, telling her that you needed a few days off next week. She gives you a thumbs up and encourages you to rest up, making it a point to recognize how hard you’ve been working. She even suggests you take the full week off, which you jump at and Jungkook only grins at you.

“My brilliant girl, charming her way into a full week off.”

You swat his hand away and hide your burning but satisfied face in his chest. “Yeah, your bad habits are rubbing off on me.”

“Oh, that’s not the only thing rubbing off on you,” Jungkook says wickedly and pushes his hips into yours, earning a fierce pinch to his bare waist.

“Hush, I’m trying to nap,” You mumble, your voice muffled. Without warning, you lick his neck and bite lightly at the base of his neck, ignoring his soft yelp. He doesn’t have a chance to question you on what that was, as you’re already falling asleep.

You’ve always thought from the beginning, even when you and Jungkook were just friends, that he was an ass man. You’ve caught him staring at your ass many, many times- in jeans, in a dress, in a skirt. And now that you both are officially together, he spends any and every moment he can with a hand on your ass. Casually, when you both walk side by side. And purposefully when you’re both just in his bed or on your couch. His hand is a well known presence on your ass, not that you’re complaining.

One of Jungkook’s favorite places to nap is on your ass, with his cheek pressed into you and one hand firmly gripping your ass. He also likes laying with his head on your lap. But his favorite place to nap is with his head buried in your chest, specifically buried in between your tits. He is currently analyzing his hypothesis that your right tit is smaller than your left, a thought he’s had for a while now, but needs further samples of evidence to properly assess.

But he’s always had an affinity for your tits, whether you’re blissfully unaware of it or not. You don’t notice it not really- you like any and all of his touches on any inch of your skin, as you’ve told him many times before. Especially when he holds you close next to him or under him and you feel protected, surrounded by only him.

He holds you, looks at you as if you’re as soothing as the sea and as bright as a supernova. And yet, the universe is contained in his big, doe eyes.

But really, at the end of the day, it’s an affinity for you. Jungkook loves every part of your mind, body, and soul, and he thinks he has for a long time. His heart has been tangled with yours since the first time he had seen you years ago at Hobi’s surprise birthday party that you had planned. Jungkook is sure that when he had seen you with a homemade red velvet cheesecake with a ‘Happy Birthday Hobi <3’ written perfectly in red icing in your arms, a silly party hat on your head, and a shy, beaming smile on your lips, he had been magnetized to your center of gravity from then on.

But even then, he had only hovered. Barely introducing himself, if it weren’t for Mina and Mei. He thought he had known girls like you- girls who baked cakes, planned elaborate birthday parties for their friends and wore flowery dresses liked other predictable people. It’s another one of his hypotheses (which has been clearly debunked)- but by now, he knows not to be so judgmental of others.

But he doesn’t dwell on that for long. Even the first time he met you, right after he had introduced himself to you and you had stared at him with starstruck eyes and stammered a quiet ‘hello’ in return, Sora had cornered him. And told him to back off from right then, that you were off limits. That you’d never be interested in a guy like him, so to not even spend a second in his stupid little mind even entertaining the ridiculous idea.

So he backed off subconsciously, thinking it wasn’t worth it to even know you as a friend. He’d convinced himself that it was too much trouble, and Jungkook has always been an easygoing kind of guy in most instances. After all, your best friend would know you best, right? And really, what did he care? As the saying goes, there were about a million other fish in the sea.

However. Even then, with each word uttered between you both, with each laugh that he pulled from your soft mouth, he couldn’t help the reluctant fondness for you that began to bloom. You had surprised him every few months after that, just saying hello at events that you were both present at and asking how he was. With that stupidly beautiful smile and those bright, shy eyes.

You were a smart, kind woman, always remembering details about others. And he was no exception.

That was years ago. He’s known you since your third year at university, hanging by a thread just outside your orbit. But this is now.

This is now, and your lips are against his neck, your chest pressed to his. You climb into his lap haphazardly, nearly knocking your mug off of the coffee table. You both have only just woken up and stumbled out of bed for coffee and breakfast. You had combed the tangles out of his bedhead with his head in your lap, but now sleepiness has washed away and you’re tugging at his oversized shirt.

You promptly bite him, right where his neck tattoo starts and ends. Jungkook meets your eyes with an incredulous, breathy laugh. “What’s gotten into you?” He murmurs, palming your chest from under your shirt.

“Nothing. You just have a very biteable neck, I told you,” You say, resuming your inspection of the vein next to his tattoo, “What a juicy jugular vein-”

Jungkook holds your wrist and flips you so that your back is on the couch. “My sexy vampire girlfriend. Love when she starts talking about my jugular vein.”

“Watch out, I might drink from it. You never know,” You giggle with a wink, squirming in his grip.

“You can do whatever you want,” Jungkook murmurs but then an idea that has been planted in his head for weeks now spills from his lips without him meaning to, “I wanna fuck your tits, baby.”

Your eyes go comically wide, mimicking Jungkook’s own. His cheeks are a little pink from his abrupt confession as silence falls between you both.

“That’s really interesting,” You muse.

“Is it?” He asks, feeling a little lightheaded. You tug a little at his purple locks to pull him down to you.

“Yeah. Always thought you liked booty. And legs,” You shrug, “But I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised.”

Jungkook’s throat is too dry for him to reply coherently. But he finds his voice after you give him a reassuring smile, “Uh, when it’s you, I like everything.”

“Me too. When it’s you, I like everything,” You mumble, heat rising in your cheeks, “And uh… you can. Do that I mean.”

“Do what?” He asks teasingly, tilting his head to the side.

“Don’t play dumb,” You whine, shoving his shoulder.

“C’mon say it,” Jungkook jeers, not unkindly, “Put your big girl panties on.”

“I hate you,” You sigh dramatically, “Fine. You can fuck my tits, if you so desire.” His face splits into a grin as he thumbs your chin and ducks his head into your neck. He playfully nips at your skin, murmuring that he’s just giving you a taste of your own medicine, but you feel his half hard cock pressing against your thigh.

The image of his cock wet and slick between your tits is now imprinted in your mind, and when both of you want something, you’ll surely get it.

Despite your eagerness of making Jungkook’s wish a reality, neither of you have had the chance for your usual shenanigans just yet. You still have quite a few days of your staycation left, so you won’t rush it. You had spent most of the first two days sleeping, cuddling, spooning, eating and lots and lots of slow sex.

You think you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve left your bed. Jungkook has been nothing short of wonderful, bringing you food (just this once, you hate eating while in bed), giving you shoulder rubs and booty rubs without you asking. Your favorite ice cream is in your freezer. Life is good.

His shirt hangs off of your shoulder and you’re too lazy to fix it. In fact you’re too lazy for pajama bottoms, only settling on your favorite pair of comfortable panties (nothing flashy. Just a standard black cotton panty) to wear under your shirt. One might even call them granny panties or whatever, but lace was uncomfortable on your skin. Lace and thongs are for very, very special occasions (hardly if ever) and you are in the comfort of your own home. You’ll be comfortable if it’s the last thing you do.

In fact, you’re too lazy to even raise your head to pucker your lips for a kiss from Jungkook. You only open your arms and hum, as if he’s supposed to telepathically know what you want from him. But he does, and he flops onto you once he tugs his shirt off. Jungkook’s face remains buried in your chest as you gently rub his scalp.

He hums happily, nearly purring at your touch and shoves himself closer into your hold. You can’t believe this man, the man who mildly intimidated you for years, is now in your arms and purring like a baby kitten. He’s admitted a few times that his scalp has been irritated and inflamed ever since he dyed his hair purple. One of his favorite things is to lay in your lap while you massage a mix of coconut oil and peppermint oil into his scalp.

He looks up at you, warm heat blazing in his eyes. You’re about to ask him what he’s thinking about but he palms your pussy from under your shirt- your still swollen, puffy pussy from the four times he’s made you cum already.

“Can I help you, Jungkook,” You ask flatly, but your poker face breaks when he dots you with kisses up and down your thighs.

“Yeah, fuck,” Jungkook groans, voice slowing to a whine, “I’m still hard, baby, fuck. Help me.”

“How are you still hard,” You wonder with a grin, “Damn, Jeon. You must really like me, huh?”

“If that wasn’t obvious then I’m clearly not doing something right here,” He breathes into your skin.

“Gimme a kiss then,” You murmur, pushing his long hair behind his ear. His eyebrow piercing glints in the light of your bedroom and you trace it gently with your fingertips. Jungkook desperately pushes his lips to yours, parting your lips easily and slipping his tongue into your mouth. He kisses your teeth hungrily, strands of his hair brushing against your cheeks.

His hips roll into yours impatiently, hands already pawing at your shirt. The air in your bedroom is suddenly so stifling, thick and nearly choking you both with the intensity of your desire. You just want him to feel good with you.

“Jungkook,” You say softly with warm cheeks, “You can use me, however you want. Tell me what you want, bunny.”

He lets out a quiet gasp, his eyes bright and wide.

You’re both on the same page, because he’s scrambling to chuck his boxers to the side and you’re tossing your shirt on top of his boxers.

***********************

“Fuuuck,” Jungkook groans. He’s breathless, heart racing erratically. All he can do is hold your shoulders as he watches with a piercing, hazy gaze as his cock is swallowed in between your tits. You squeeze them tightly together, trying to create as much friction as you can for him.

“Fuck,” He whines, “Fuck, you look so good, baby. O-oh, shit, my pretty baby, you’re pretty-”

Jungkook nearly cums when you mischievously stick your tongue out to brush against the head of his leaking cock. The visual is almost too much for him and his breaths are choked, strangled as he forces himself to look into your dark eyes.

“So big, bunny, look,” You say softly, “You like this? You’re so hot like this…”

He’s nearly in tears, eyes shining and wet at how good this feels. If your pussy was a slice of heaven, then your tits were the next best thing. You moan softly, feeling your own wetness and heat pooling. Jungkook’s cheeks and chest are flushed, eyes wild and wet as he slides his cock in between the valley of your tits languidly. Almost as if he doesn’t want the moment to end.

You’re so warm, warm everywhere.

His muscles are tense, the furrow in his brow beginning to appear when he’s about to cum. “Shit, baby, oh my god, I love your tits,” Jungkook moans, tossing his head back, “Fuck, I love everything about you-”

You don’t know how he’s able to form coherent sentences to you when he’s this close to cumming. But he’s always been a man of many talents.

“You know what I just realized,” You gasp suddenly, “Neither of us made it official that we’re dating. Like I never asked you ‘out’ and you never asked me ‘out’-”

“Fuck, you talk too much,” Jungkook nearly snarls, “My cock is literally in between your tits and I’m about to fucking cum all over you and you think I belong to anyone else?”

You swallow thickly, Jungkook narrowing his eyes at you. He looks intimidating and intense above you, his powerful, golden thighs straddling either side of you.

“N-no, I was just-”

Jungkook shoots you a glare, reaches behind him and gathers your wetness with two fingers. Before you can ask him what he’s doing, he pushes two fingers into your mouth to shut you up. You send him a glare right back, but it melts away quickly when you swirl your tongue and suck on his digits.

He cums without warning, hastily and with a broken sort of sound ripping from his throat. It’s warm and sticky as it lands on your chest and your cheek. But he cums so much and much to your chagrin some of his cum gets in your eye and you nearly shriek at the burn.

“Jungkook! What the hell, your cum is in my fucking eyeball-”

He’s still panting above you, like some sort of golden boy, and it takes him a few seconds to register your irritation. “Oh shit,” Jungkook says and jumps into action. He tugs you into the bathroom to gently wash your eye for you (after washing his own hands), with you grumbling the entire time.

“I’m sorry, baby,” He says sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. You roll your eyes and demand to be taken back to bed and lavished in kisses as penance for his cum shooting into your eye.

Jungkook tastes himself a little when his tongue slips into your mouth, but it hardly registers as he rolls on top of you, caging you in between his arms.

Jungkook fleetingly thinks he should’ve spent more time trying to convince you to stay home with him. Maybe with a few soft, long kisses to your neck, he might have. You looked delectable, good enough to eat- your dress fitted around your hips, nails, hair, and makeup done, the scent of your perfume subtle but not irritating to his sensitive nose.

You had asked him to pick what jewelry to wear, so one of his long necklaces sitting around your neck and disappearing into the valley of your chest. It doesn’t really match with your dress, but you don’t care.

And Jungkook… well, it was difficult for you to keep your hands off of him as well. His hair is tied back into a neat ponytail, he’s wearing a sequined black (fitted) button up with the top four buttons undone, a thick, silver chain and ripped, black jeans. Your eyes are glued to his chest and he knows it- you can’t help but grip his arm, his bicep whenever you can.

Neither of you really enjoyed the club scene, but you had wanted to go out since it had been a really long time and after all, you were on your staycation. Mei had planted the idea in your head, and so now here Jungkook was.

Here he was, catching flashes off the satin, coral colored wrap dress that you were encased in. For someone who doesn’t like the scene, you blend in effortlessly. But you’re a grown woman, so he takes his eyes off of you and orders a round of shots for him, Jimin, Taehyung and Jin while nursing a bottle of soju.

In the midst of the thumping bass bouncing off of the walls in the club, you’re only aware of you and Mei while you both sing along to whatever song is blasting through the club. Mina disappeared a while ago, presumably to find Jimin.

You’re holding two drinks, one in each hand, and all you feel is the vibrations of the club. Along with your own drunkenness. Mei holds your arm to keep you steady as you move your hips in time with hers. You laugh loudly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders at something she said. Everything is amplified and muted at the same time, the swirl of alcohol settling comfortably in your veins.

You’re having a great time with your friends, dancing, swirling, singing and drinking. It’s a nice night to unwind, in the company of dear friends and strangers.

“Hey,” Mei murmurs in your ear, “I gotta pee and I’m gonna go find Seulgi-”

“You can just say that you wanna go find her,” You giggle, “Don’t blame your bladder on it, Mei.”

“Oh, you’re funny. I’ll text Jungkook and tell him to come find you, alright?” Mei says, patting your head. You nod and tell her to go find her girl, and she does. Leaving you to your own devices for a bit, at least until Jungkook makes his way to you.

However, what neither of you realize is that the cell reception in this building is terrible. Mei’s text never goes through and you stay in your bubble, with your two drinks in your hands and bounce along to the music.

You’re not sure how much time goes by, but it feels like you’ve been alone for quite a while. You squint your eyes at your phone to check the time and send a text to Jungkook. A text that never goes through. You frown and are about to turn on your heel to link up with your man (wherever he might be), but you hear a surprised call of your name.

It’s hard to keep the incredulity out of your face when you come face to face with Yunho, the man who had stood you up all those months ago. The air has almost been punched out of your lungs, and you have to squint at him to believe what you’re seeing.

He calls your name again, giving you a wave and a bright smile. “Funny seeing you here, huh?”

“Uh…”

“Can I buy you a drink? I feel like I owe it to you after…” His eyes are sincere. At least you think so, with your drunk goggles on.

“I don’t know, Yunho, it’s okay…” You mumble unsurely, “Isn’t this weird?”

“It’s only weird if we make it weird,” Yunho says and pulls a chuckle out of you.

“Oh, alright. I guess a drink won’t hurt,” You shrug and lead the way to the bar. The least he can do for you after standing you up and hurting your feelings is buy you a drink, you think.

“Hey listen, I owe you an apology,” Yunho says, sliding your drink towards you.

“Oh, it’s- it was a long time ago,” You shrug, avoiding his eyes. Sure, it was a hit to your ego, but in hindsight it doesn’t matter. Not when you have Jungkook. Honestly, you’ve forgotten that Yunho had even been a blip in your radar once upon a time. It was only because of Sora, anyway.

“I had something urgent come up last minute that day and I asked Sora to tell you,” Yunho continues, “I’m sorry I didn’t follow up or even reach out to you after. But I’d heard that you were with Jeon now, so didn’t want to… overstep, I guess.”

And even through your drunken haze, you understand. You sigh deeply, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Oh boy,” You groan, “Sora never told me about that but we’re not close anymore, Yunho. It’s okay, I understand. I’m sorry she got you, too.”

Yunho’s lips part in surprise, “She didn’t… Alright. What’s done is done, I guess.”

“Yeah,” You murmur airily, “And yes, I am with Jeon. Though I can’t seem to find him…”

“I’m happy to keep you company until you do.”

Despite how well you and Yunho seem to hit it off (most of your time spent bitching about Sora), you can’t help but think of Jungkook. You quite miss him, not having seen him all night in the club. You want to dance with him, and little do you know that he’s been scouring the entire club for you in a frenzy once he ran into Mei and Mina and hadn’t seen you with them.

He had sent them a glare, his jaw clenched and walked away to find you. So when his eyes finally land on you at the bar, after about twenty-five minutes of searching and trying to get through strings of people around you, his heart soars. But he sees you laughing with someone else at the bar. With Yunho.

Jealousy is petty, he tells himself. But he struggles to keep it at bay as it rears its head and comforts him. He’s always been protective and possessive of those he loves and cherishes. You’re definitely no exception.

You wobble a little on your feet, but you hold your own. Even from here, he can see the drunkenness of your smile, beads of sweat as they race down your neck to hide in the valley of your breasts. He zeroes in on your necklace (his) around your neck and reminds himself. It’s his necklace that you’re wearing, after all.

Then why is the man who stood you up all those months ago making you laugh like that?

You must have a sixth sense or something for him, because you turn your head a bit as if you can sense him. Your entire face lights up when you see him, in a way that makes his tough heart swell in adoration.

You make your way over to him with your drink and peck his lips chastely, despite his desire to pull you into his arms and kiss you long enough that your knees buckle. So that Yunho sees that he is yours.

“You disappeared on me, baby,” Jungkook murmurs, adjusting your necklace. He’s gripping it tightly, but you don’t notice.

“I was with Yunho, remember him? ‘Member, he stood me up but he didn’t because it was Sora’s fault-”

“That’s no surprise,” Jungkook says, rolling his eyes. You take his hand, squeezing and introduce him to Yunho. As if he doesn’t know him already. Jungkook’s tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, his jaw clenched. He doesn’t like how Yunho looks at you, how his gaze lingers on your skin and the curves of your dress. You lean against Jungkook heavily, absently playing with his fingers. You stay mostly quiet, sipping your drink as the two men speak (rather tersely).

Jungkook knows he’s being ridiculous.

“Kook, finish my drink?” You murmur, offering him the glass. Jungkook maintains eye contact with Yunho as he downs the remainder of your drink in a few solid gulps.

“Was nice to see you, Yunho,” You say, “I think Jimin and Mina are looking for us, Jungkook. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

With that Jungkook firmly holds your waist, keeping you close to him. You both know that neither Jimin nor Mina are looking for either of you. You’d only wanted to be alone with Jungkook.

So Jungkook leads you to a spot where he knows Yunho can visibly see you both. You let loose, giggling as Jungkook twirls you easily and moving your arms to match the beat of the music. He makes you laugh with his moves, winking at you and shooting finger guns at you as he twirls and swivels around you. He’s always been a great dancer, you realize. That’s funny, because you’re sometimes clumsy on your own two feet. He pulls you into him, his chest to your back and his hips pressed against your ass. You sigh contentedly, head lolling against his shoulder and you rest your hand over his hand to let him lead you.

His nose is buried in your neck, lips lightly brushing your pulse. He bites your earlobe gently, earning a soft laugh from you. Jungkook tilts your jaw to the side to meet your eyes and plants a deep kiss to your glossy lips. He holds you steady when your knees weaken, your belly flipping at the intensity that he pours into you.

Jungkook is all around you, encasing you within his arms and there’s not a single place you’d rather be. When you pull away for air, you thumb away your gloss on his bottom lip and bite his bottom lip gently.

“I adore you,” You say dreamily, “You are so… Everything. Everything. I adore you.”

Jungkook’s cheeks burn, but he ducks his head for another sharp kiss. And if Yunho is watching him shove his tongue down your throat and holding your hips to his possessively then that’s fine by him.

The journey back home is a quick one (after you both stop for fried noodles, despite the inevitable heartburn it’ll give you both the next day but you’re both so hungry). You both stumble into your home in a mess of giggles and groping, nearly falling to the floor due to your clumsiness.

Jungkook has been hard since he kissed you in the club, in front of Yunho. He knew Yunho had been watching, feeling the man’s eyes on you both the entire time. His jealousy has crawled back into the box that it was unleashed from, but he knows that’s something to revisit later.

Something else to revisit is that he liked that someone else was watching him with you. He stores that information for later, instead focusing on keeping you upright from falling.

Somehow, through your blurry vision and wobbly legs, you get on your knees and palm Jungkook’s cock through his pants. A shameless moan rips through you- any and every inch of him makes you dizzy with desire.

You like him so much that it nearly makes you cry.

“Gonna blow you now,” You announce happily, fumbling with the button of his jeans and using all of your concentration and strength to pull his pants down along with his boxers. You sloppily kiss your way down his chest, spending extra time on his tattoo and licking (then biting) his happy trail before humming around his leaking cock.

He’s so wet already, and it’s all because of you.

Jungkook groans, eyes closing in pleasure as your pretty mouth wraps around his cock. He thrusts lightly into your mouth, peeling his eyes open to watch you. Only to find you already staring up at him, your makeup smudged and tears already forming in your pretty eyes. He cradles your cheek affectionately, stroking your cheekbone-

But before he can compliment you, softly praise you, he hears a noise. It originates from the back of your throat, something both familiar and unfamiliar. You gag uncontrollably around his cock, and while it’s certainly not the first time it’s happened, it’s different this time. Because you’re a little drunk. So he should be unsurprised when you retch on his cock, pull yourself off of him before your drunk self can get any more vomit on his cock and sprint into your bathroom.

You manage to lock the door in your frenzy of utter humiliation and alcohol addled mind. You hover over the toilet bowl, the sounds of you throwing up bouncing off of the walls. You’re crying, sobbing more like it- from both the pain in your chest from vomiting violently into the toilet bowl coupled with the humiliation of quite literally throwing up on your boyfriend’s cock.

You groan and squeeze your eyes shut, as if that’ll erase the memory.

“Baby,” Jungkook calls softly, his cock fully hanging out in the open, “Baby, please open the door. It’s not a big deal, but I need to wash my dick off.”

You let out a choked, watery laugh at that and move to flush the toilet and rinse your mouth out. Your cheeks burn in embarrassment when you unlock your bathroom door, and you can’t bear to look Jungkook in the eye. But he holds your wrist to his when you try to escape into the safety of your bedroom.

Your heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of your chest, heat flooding your ears in shame. It feels like your head is empty, static filling up the spaces that the silence between you both doesn’t.

“It’s just me,” Jungkook coos, “Do you want to shower with me?”

“Jungkook, ‘m absolutely mortified,” You say flatly, voice a little high in pitch as fresh tears burning behind your eyelids, “I want to evaporate from this plane of existence in about three-point-four seconds, I literally threw up on your penis, I’m so sorry. Don’t even look at me-”

Jungkook winces at your tone and the way your shoulders are hunched, hands gripping the hem of your dress unsurely.

“Baby,” Jungkook sighs, “It’s really okay, there’s nothing to apologize for. Come shower. The vomit is drying on my dick-”

But that’s the wrong thing to say because you start to cry immediately, shoving your face in your hands. Jungkook sighs, mentally kicking himself and running a hand through his purple locks. He calls your name softly and pulls you into his arms for a tight hug, despite the drying vomit on his dick, which is hanging out and brushes against your hip. You sniffle, peeking at him with shy eyes and he rubs your back soothingly.

“When I say it’s okay, I mean it,” Jungkook murmurs into your hair, “I’m sorry I didn’t realize how drunk you were. I know you feel embarrassed, but it’s just me, baby.”

He kisses you, despite your protests, and helps you rinse your mouth again. You allow Jungkook to somehow maneuver you into the shower, peeling you out of your clothes. You feel grimy and sticky from the club and you’re grateful for the cool water against your skin. You stand behind Jungkook, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face in between his shoulder blades, letting him wash himself.

“Can I wash you?” You whisper, voice unsure. You feel awful, cheeks burning but still. He nods and you take your body wash and lather him with it, washing his now limp dick gently and swallowing nervously.

“See? Not a big deal,” Jungkook says, coaxes you out of your nervousness, “Lemme wash you, baby.”

And so he does, taking your loofah and gently rubbing your skin. Under the cool spray of water, your nerves slip away with each giggle and kiss that he pulls and plants from your lips. Your eyes are still a little shy, a little slick with alcohol. But it’s just Jungkook, and you’re safe with him.

Jungkook nearly wrestles you to get you to eat something more, after throwing up the remainder of your guts after you both had showered (it was mainly just water and alcohol at this point). You’re nearly falling asleep on his shoulder but he manages to shake you awake for a slice of leftover noodles and two glasses of water. But eventually, he coaxes you into eating with a few kisses, hugs, and shoulder rubs.

Once you both are in bed, Jungkook wraps himself around you, his hands immediately drifting below your sleep shirt to your belly. Your cheeks burn as the events of the night replay in your mind’s eye and you press your face into your pillow with a groan.

“I can’t believe I threw up on your dick a-and you’re so nice a-about it,” You mumble, “You really are everything.”

“Well, what else am I going to do if the girl I like vomits on my dick,” Jungkook murmurs, “Don’t worry about it, baby. It happens.”

“To who? Only to me,” You say sadly, “I drank too much. I’m sorry, Kook-”

“Shhh,” Jungkook says, tightening his arms around you and kissing your forehead, “I promise it’s okay. I promise I’m not looking at you any differently.”

His words make you relax in his hold and you nod. Jungkook tilts your jaw towards him, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You don’t say anything else after that, only allowing your soft, breathy sighs to spill out of your lips and into him with every comforting kiss and every slip of his tongue in your mouth.

He tells you to rest in between kisses, but your eyes are already closed.

**************************************

MOM TAGS: @tiemeuptogoldenchains @boymeetsparadise @jungkooksseuphoria @kaepjjangiya @drumsofheaven @ppeachyttae @tae-bebe @yiyi4657 @mygscafe @beeeetsandskzreads @maichiverse @hordanhearsawhooo @anonymous2505 @dreadity @mysugarkoo @ultraanonymousey @moonchild1 @fan-ati--c @yeotan07

TAGS: @kookdbean @codeinebelle

[scuttling]

Head Over Feet - Chapter 1

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Spencer Reid/Female Reader (Unrequited) Word Count: 5,233 Chapters: 4/4 Complete Tags: (Will be 18+, NSFW in future chapters) Unrequited Love, TW Suicide by cop Summary: Falling in love with one of your two closest friends was never something you planned; it only makes sense that falling in love with the other would also come as a complete surprise. *Inspired by/in collaboration with @ssamorganhotchner. Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Link to AO3 or read chapter 1 below! It’s 3 AM—well, you are in a part of suburban Indiana where it’s 3 AM, but that makes it a Virginia 4 AM—and rain patters against the window behind your head as you slump over in your usual spot on the jet’s couch. You are exhausted, the whole team is exhausted, and you’ve just closed your eyes when a warm body presses against yours, thigh to shoulder, and there is a soft sigh in your ear.

“I shouldn’t make coffee. I shouldn’t make coffee, right?” Spencer murmurs, and you turn to look at him, can’t help the fondness that shapes your smile. His hair is untidy from running his hands through it, his eyes tired and rimmed red, and his headphones are dangling around his neck, just like always. He’s so close to you your noses are almost touching.

You return his sigh. So many things in life are unpredictable, but your partner, your closest friend, is always a constant.

“You absolutely should not make coffee,” you say, your voice quiet in the dim cabin. “We’ll be home in almost an hour, and then you’re going to go to bed.”

“At this point, wouldn’t it be better to just stay awake?” he asks with a groan, resting his head against the seat behind him, and you roll your eyes.

“I know the statistics, and if I do, then so do you. Being awake for 24 hours is equivalent to having a 0.10 percent BAC. There’s no way you’ll make it through the day without hurting yourself.” You hear a soft laugh from your right, and it’s Aaron; you hadn’t even realized he was paying attention. You raise your voice a little. “Plus, Hotch said we don’t have to come in until ten.”

He glances over his shoulder at you, eyebrows raised.

“Did I say that?” His lips curve up in a soft smile, and his expression is warm despite the exhaustion in his eyes.

“Don’t you remember? I said, ‘Hotch, you should let us come in at ten so we can get some extra sleep. I think it would really benefit the team.’ Then you said, ‘You know what, you’re right. Wow, you really are the smartest and most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.’” You smile brightly, fully aware you’re being silly; it surprises you when his smile falters a bit, nearly imperceptibly.

“Hmm. Now that you mention it, I do remember something like that. I’m a great boss for agreeing to it.”

“The absolute best,” you reply easily, and the two of you look at each other for just a moment before he turns back to his work and you turn back to Spencer. “So, like I said. Hotch said we don’t have to come in until ten. You need to sleep.”

“It will be after 5:00 by the time we get to the office, more like 5:30. Ten minute wait for the forty-five minute train home means I’ll get there at 6:25—” You are not normally one to cut Spencer off when he gets talking, but this is sleep-deprived rambling, not an informational address, so you place a hand gently on his arm and he falls silent.

“So come stay at my place. I’m closer and you won’t have to wait for the train. We can get a few hours in and then stop at the coffee shop before we head to the office, okay?” The way he looks at you, soft, appreciative, makes it feel like you’re the only two people on the jet for a moment, and he wets his lips, nods.

“Okay. Thank you.” You smile.

“Of course. Maybe rest your eyes; if you fall asleep, I’ll wake you when we get there.” He turns on his music, leans against your shoulder, and takes your suggestion; it’s only a few minutes later that his breathing evens out, softens, and you try and fail to ignore the way that makes your heart ache in your chest.

When the plane lands and you’re grabbing your things, you come up behind Aaron, curl a hand around his arm just above his elbow. He turns to look at you, and he’s more worse for wear than you thought, so pale and tired up close.

“You’re going to go home and get some sleep, right?” All that changes is the set of his eyes, but that’s enough for you to know he has no intention of going home; you sigh. “Am I going to have to force you to come stay at my place too?”

It would be the first time he’s stayed over, where Spencer has crashed with you a handful of times; you are close with the both of them, but Aaron you spend more time with at lunch, or late nights eating dinner in his office, where Spencer comes over for movies or board games regularly. The dynamics of your friendships with them are so different, but both so good, so unexpected. You wouldn’t trade them for anything.

“That’s not necessary,” he says, doesn’t look like it’s a thought he wants to entertain. Maybe he thinks it’s crossing a line? Spencer will be there, so you don’t understand why he’d feel that way, but you don’t want to make him uncomfortable.

“I just want you to rest. It’s really no trouble, I have a guest room.” Spencer always opts for your long, overstuffed sectional sofa, so there’s more than enough room for Aaron to stay and get a few hours of sleep. He just shakes his head shortly.

“Thank you, but it’s fine. I’ll be alright. I appreciate your concern,” he says, and that’s clearly the end of the conversation. You just sigh, slide your hand off the back of his arm.

“Okay. I’ll see you in a few hours.” You walk away from him, over to where Spencer is waiting for you, and the two of you get into your car and head to your place.

By the time you get there, Spencer is basically a big, sleepy baby, and you have to carry both of your bags into your apartment and keep your arm around him so he doesn’t slump over. You lean him up against the wall while you unlock your door, then push him gently onto the couch while you grab pillows, blankets, and sheets.

He has clothes in his go bag to change into, but you don’t bother trying to wake him enough for that, just make up a bed for him and take off his shoes, maneuvering him into a somewhat comfortable position.

“Hmm. Thank you,” he mumbles when you cover him with a warm blanket, and he turns his head to kiss you softly on your cheek, then burrows his face into the pillow and falls asleep.

You walk into your bedroom, kick off your shoes, set an alarm, and flop down face first onto your bed. Later that morning, you and Spencer bring coffee and breakfast pastries for everyone; you take Aaron’s coffee and a cherry danish and walk up to his office, knock on the doorframe with your elbow.

You are happy to see he looks a little better than when you left him, and he even softly smiles when he sees you standing there.

“Good morning again. Brought you a little pick-me-up.” You step into the room, set down the coffee and the napkin with the danish on it in the middle of his desk, then lean against it with one hand on the desk and the other hand on your hip. “You look decent.” He chuckles lightly.

“Somehow that doesn’t feel like a compliment.”

“It’s not, it’s an, ‘I wish you would have gotten some rest instead of being stubborn, but I guess it turned out okay.’” He looks into your eyes for a moment, and you hold his gaze. “When someone wants to take care of you, Aaron, you should let them.”

He looks away first, down at the lid of his coffee cup, clears his throat.

“That’s not always possible, but I really do appreciate your concern.” He sounds crestfallen in a way you don’t quite understand, and you hate that he feels that he can’t accept help. You’d hoped he was over that kind of backward thinking.

“You can talk to me about anything. I thought we were close enough for you to know that.”

“We are,” he agrees, looking over at you. There is that same dejected set to his eyes, and it makes you hurt for him. It’s been a while since you’ve seen him like this, years, back when his divorce was still a fresh wound. “Sometimes that’s not always possible either, even if I might want to.”

“I won’t judge you, you know. I care about you.” You reach out to put your hand on his, a gentle, comforting touch. “There’s nothing you could say to me that would change that.”

You are interrupted by a knock at the door—it’s Spencer, with a mouth full of cinnamon roll. Aaron pulls his hand away abruptly like the two of you are doing something wrong, and you furrow your brow. Spencer doesn’t notice, or at least doesn’t say anything.

“Hey, JJ said there might be a case. We’re meeting.”

“Another case?” You take a few steps away from the desk, cross your arms, give Aaron some space. “We just got back five hours ago.”

“Sounds like we should have gone straight there instead. Spree killer, five dead.” He ducks back out of the room, takes off down the hall, and you turn back to Aaron. He’s standing, smooths a hand down the front of his shirt, and you sigh.

“What are the odds I can convince you to take a power nap on the jet? 50:1?” He cracks a smile despite his earlier demeanor, takes the coffee you brought and passes you on his way to the door.

“I’d guess more like 75.” You roll your eyes, grab his danish, take a big bite, and then catch up to him and hand him the rest to finish.

The case takes you to Connecticut, where you are paired with Derek to take witness statements at the precinct. The local police know the identity of the killer, a forty year old man named John Jackson, and your team has predicted that he won’t stop until you find him, and that he will likely attempt to go down via suicide by cop when you do, so everyone is on edge.

After almost three hours of taking statements, you and Derek break for water and coffee, stand at the watercooler shaking your heads.

“This guy is unpredictable. There could be another five, ten bodies before we finally catch up to him,” Derek says, taking a long chug of water, and you cross your arms, lean back against the counter of the kitchenette.

“Hopefully it doesn’t come to that. We’ve got roadblocks, right?” He nods.

“Every road in and out of town, with cops at all highway exits.” You vaguely remember the chief saying that, now that he mentions it; the hours are all starting to blend together, between the case and the lack of sleep, and your team is relying heavily on each other to fill in the gaps.

“Right. And helicopters.” You rub a hand slowly over your hair. “I hate these cases; it’s like the profile isn’t any good until you get to him, and by then it’s too late.” You check your watch, and it’s nearing rush hour, a good time to touch base with the team; you shoot Derek a glance, pull out your phone and gesture toward the hall, step out and dial Aaron.

When he answers, he sounds tense, so you don’t bother with pleasantries.

“Hey, just checking in. Derek and I are about done here; where do you need us?”

“There’s a checkpoint on I-95, mile marker 48; we have a few officers manning it, but we could use a car here, so if you two head there you can send one of them our way.”

“Got it: I-95, mile marker 48,” you repeat as Derek joins you in the hall. “Send a car your way.”

“Yes. Be careful,” he says almost like it’s an afterthought, and you shake your head lightly—as if you are careless any other time.

“We will, you too. Bye.” You end the call, lock your phone, raise an eyebrow in Derek’s direction. “Want me to drive?”

“Oh, and put my life in the hands of Speed Racer?” He takes the keys out of his pocket, holds them out like he’s handing them to you, then pulls them away.

“I've taken several defensive driving courses; I’m probably a better driver than you.” He holds them out again and you snatch them out of his hand. “And sometimes you have to be fast.”

That statement proves true when you are on your way to mile marker 48 and Derek spots the car the unsub was last seen driving. He confirms the plate number, confirms it again, just because your brains are kind of mush, and then you share a look and slam your foot on the gas.

Thank god for all those defensive driving courses.

“Hotch,” Morgan barks into his phone a few seconds later, “we’ve got eyes on the suspect. He’s headed northbound on I-95—we just passed marker 44. We’re in pursuit.” The unsub weaves in and out of traffic, a chorus of colorful language and horns blaring in his wake, and you do your best to keep up while maintaining a safe distance from other cars.

The chase goes on for several miles, and there seems to be no end in sight until you can eventually make out the red glow of the car’s brake lights from across the highway. It’s both a good and bad sign, one you were prepared for.

“He’s gonna bail, Derek.” You cut across several lanes of traffic to make your way to the side of the road, so you can pull off as close to him as possible. “We have to try to talk him down. Think he’ll listen to me?” The whole rampage was triggered by the anniversary of the man’s wife’s death, and you look similar enough that it’s a good possibility. Derek agrees.

“Worth a shot. Just keep your damn gun drawn,” he says, and you huff. You’re pretty sure every member of the team has used the ‘weapons down’ tactic on multiple occasions, but somehow only you and Spencer are always reminded of it.

“I will, but if he wants me to kill him, I’m not going to make it easy.” The unsub goes several hundred feet farther before pulling over, and you follow behind, turn on your four-ways, jump out of the car. Derek covers you, and you approach the vehicle slowly, gun drawn. “John Jackson. Leave your weapon on the seat and exit the vehicle with your hands up.”

The door opens, and you see one empty hand, but he still clutches a pistol in the other. Derek looks over at you, but you don’t dare take your eyes off of John.

“John. Put the gun down. I know you feel hopeless right now, like there’s no way out of this situation, but I promise you there is a way. I’m here to help you.” For the first time, he looks over at you, and you can see the pain in his gaze; it’s clear the man is broken, eyes sunken deeply in despair. He raises the gun—doesn’t point it at you, just raises it into the air.

“You can’t help me. No one can. She’s gone, and I’m left here—in pieces.” The last word is a sob, and you swallow hard, take a step closer.

“I know how much Kathleen meant to you, John, and I’m sorry for your loss. So sorry. But you know this isn’t how she would have wanted things to turn out for you; you know that, right? She loved you.”

“It wasn’t enough, in the end.” He wipes his forearm across his eyes, and Derek tenses, you can see it out of the corner of your eye, but that’s the only move John makes. “She took everything with her and left me empty.”

“It doesn’t have to feel like that forever. I promise you.” You take another step forward, hand outstretched. “If you just set the gun on the ground, I’ll come over and put you in some handcuffs. We’ll have to go to the police station first, but then we’re going to get you help. You’ll feel better.”

John says nothing for several seconds; you are so aware of yourself, your surroundings, that you feel each breath you take as if your body is moving in slow motion. You can see Derek tense again, just slightly; you can hear the sound of another car pulling up behind yours, of doors opening and closing, of shoes on pavement and guns drawn.

“John.” He sighs, presses his lips together, shakes his head.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t want to feel better. I want to feel nothing.” He points his gun at you, and you don’t have another choice. If it’s not you, it will be someone else on your team.

He made his choice; you make your non-choice and pull the trigger.

You run to his side when he falls, and so does Derek: no pulse. You’re a good shot. It doesn’t feel like something to be proud of right now. You stand, and so does Derek; he reaches out a hand, places it on your shoulder.

“You tried, you know?” His voice is low, a little rough, and you nod your head. “Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

“Thanks.” You don’t say you won’t, can’t guarantee that. The two of you turn around, face the others, and you inhale deeply, exhale deeply, shake your head. Aaron and Spencer both come forward, and you’re a little torn, not sure whose eyes to seek for reassurance, whose words to seek for comfort.

Spencer makes the decision for you, jogs toward you and puts his hands on your shoulders, wraps his arms around you in a hug. You hold him close, rest your head against his arm, and look behind him, at Aaron, who seems more affected than you would have thought. You want to pull him in too, but he is not the public display of affection type, so you let Spencer be enough.

After a few minutes, local law enforcement arrives on the scene, as well as the coroner, and Spencer ushers you into an SUV so you can head back to the precinct.

That night, you are not just tired, but weary, when you make it home. You strip off your clothes and take a quick shower in hopes it will make you feel a little better, then pull on a short, fleece robe and pad to the kitchen to make a cup of herbal tea. You’re just throwing out the tea bag when there’s a knock at the door, and you take your mug with you to answer it.

You aren’t surprised that it’s Aaron on the other side.

“Hi.” Your voice sounds weak to your own ears, but he just nods, takes in your robe and mug of tea, offers his own greeting. “Do you want to come in?” You take a step back and he walks past you into the living room, sits down beside you when you curl up on the sofa. You face him, your shoulder against the back of the couch, your hands in your lap, holding your tea, and he mirrors your posture.

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright. I know what happened today was difficult for you.” The expression on his face is careful, guarded, but concerned. “How are you doing?”

You reach forward to set your tea on a coaster on the table, scooting a little closer.

“I’m doing alright.” He looks skeptical, stares you down with serious eyes, and you sigh, give in to his silence. You’re not one to easily fold under pressure, but when Aaron is the one applying it, it’s difficult not to. “It’s never easy to kill someone, but… it’s just a little harder when it's someone who clearly needed help, something we could have given him. It’s harder when we’re just too late.”

“I can understand that. Things could have gone so differently if he’d gotten help when he needed it. Maybe no one would have gotten hurt.” He reaches out a hand to carefully cover yours in your lap, looks at you with tender eyes. “Try not to focus on the maybe, okay? Life is hard enough without beating yourself up for something out of your control.”

You nod your head, blink back tears, and lean forward, resting your cheek against his shoulder; he puts his arm around your back and holds you tightly, allows you your moment, and when you begin to pull away he reaches for your tea, takes a sip.

“Minty,” he says, then hands you the mug, and you smile softly, take a sip too.

“It’s Sleepytime tea. Helps me wind down before bed.” It’s not until you say it that it dawns on you—how late it is, that he’s here anyway after almost two days with no sleep. “Let me make you a cup and then put you up in the guest room. Please,” you murmur when he looks like he’s going to decline. “It would make me feel a lot better about today. Just knowing you’re nearby.”

“Are you trying to guilt trip me?” he asks, arching a brow, and you shake your head quickly, reach for his hand again.

“No, no. Of course not. I just know you’re tired, and it would be nice to have a friend close tonight.” You squeeze his fingers, your hand warm from the tea, take a deep breath. “Stay?”

“I’ll go get my bag out of the car,” he says eventually, and you can’t help smiling.

“Okay. I’ll make you some tea.” The next couple of months are fairly commonplace, with cases dotted here and there, but nothing out of the ordinary, and nothing like those few sleepless days.

You have dinner with Aaron in his office a couple times a week, and it’s always comforting and enjoyable, that easy companionship. You spend time with Spencer at one of your apartments a couple evenings a week, and that’s where things get complicated.

He’s one of your closest friends in the world, one of two people you would do anything for, drop everything for at a moment's notice. As it turns out, he may also be more than that.

You’ve noticed for a while that you tend to gravitate toward him, that you’re drawn to him when he’s speaking, like an invisible magnetic pull. That you can’t help staring at his lips when he talks, his hands when he adds gestures, the serious look of contemplation on his face when he debates his next move as you play chess.

It feels innocent, mostly, until one day he leans over your shoulder to speak into your ear while you’re getting snacks in the kitchen, and you feel your face heat, your heart pound in your chest. He lays a hand on your back, which is not unusual, but he may as well be putting it down your pants for the way it makes you feel in that moment.

You open your mouth to say something, but ultimately you stop yourself. What would you even say? I think I might be in love with you? I think I want you? I hope this doesn’t ruin our friendship? Anything of those things would be the wrong thing, so you just push it to the back of your mind and do your best to let it go.

“Are you feeling okay?” Spencer asks one day while you’re pouring coffee in the breakroom, and rightfully so, because you’ve been avoiding him like he’s contagious for the better part of a week. He looks especially cute today, and he’s in a great mood, smiling and laughing at everything Derek and Emily say, and it’s too much for you to handle. You’re just proud of yourself for not saying something embarrassing.

“I’m okay,” you assure him with a light smile you don’t feel. “I’m just a little off today; I’m sure it will pass. Thanks, though.” You fill his mug, and he smiles back, nods.

“Of course. We can skip movie night tonight, if you’re not feeling up to it. I think we’ve both probably seen An American Werewolf in London enough times that we could recite it line for line anyway.” You have to laugh at that, because it’s true; it’s one of your favorites, always so easy to poke fun at that the two of you dissolve into giggles half an hour in.

“You’re definitely right about that. Yeah, let’s cancel for tonight. I’ll go to bed early, get some rest, be good as new tomorrow. Thanks for understanding,” you murmur, turning to look up at him, and he puts his hand on your shoulder.

“You’re welcome. I just hope you feel better soon.”

You hope you figure out what to do soon, too.

You’re getting ready to leave work later that night, shortly after everyone else has gone, when Aaron steps up beside you, clears his throat.

“Do you have plans for tonight? I was just about to order dinner.” You sigh, run a hand over your hair.

“Um. I was supposed to watch movies with Spencer, but I cancelled on him.” His gaze sweeps over you like he’s looking for signs of distress, eyes gentle but appraising.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes and no.” You immediately regret saying that, because it puts him on alert and you aren’t really in the mood to discuss it. “Yes—everything’s alright. I’d love dinner, if you don’t mind the company. And it’s my turn to pay.” You take out your wallet, shove the rest of your bag back under your desk, turn to look up at him. He’s still staring at you like he’s trying to assess your emotional state, and you exhale softly. “Can we just… eat and talk about Jack?”

It takes him a moment, but he nods, pulls out his phone. It’s nonchalant, just quiet acceptance of your terms; his eyes are kind when he looks back over at you.

“I have pictures of him from his last soccer game.” You feel almost overwhelmed with relief, lean against his arm to look at the photos of Jack and his friends in their uniforms, laughing and happy on the field. “Do you want tacos?” he asks, low, after a moment, and you nod your head and smile softly up at him.

“Yeah, but it’s Friday. Why don’t we just go eat? Work can wait until Monday.” It’s a suggestion you’ve made many times before, but this time, to your surprise, he agrees; you grab your bag, and he drives you to the restaurant where you have a margarita, and too many tacos, and so many laughs it’s like he’s almost a different person. He drops you off at your car afterward, and you lean across the seat for a hug, thank him again for taking you out—because, of course, he insisted on paying the bill even though it was your turn. It’s a better evening than you’ve had in the last few weeks.

You mess that up severely by going home and watching An American Werewolf in London anyway, and afterward you lay in bed, try to fall asleep, and think about what you’re going to do about Spencer. It’s almost midnight when you have the dumb idea to go see him—and it’s pouring, which makes it even dumber.

You text him to see if he’s still awake, and he doesn’t answer, but when you park you can see that his bedroom light is on, so you buzz anyway. He lets you up, clearly confused as to what you’re doing there so late; so are you, to be honest, but for some reason it finally felt like the right time to lay it all out on the line. When he opens the door, he looks even more taken aback than he sounded.

“Are you okay? It’s after midnight, and you’re soaked,” he says, pulling you inside and closing the door, and you shake your head.

“No, not really. I’m sorry for springing this on you, Spence, I really am.” You take a deep breath, try to calm yourself; your heart is racing. “I think I love you. You were the first person I clicked with when I started at the BAU, and it has become a genuine friendship that I treasure, but lately I’ve been feeling… more.” He wets his lips, frowns.

“I don’t think now is the right—” A slightly unhinged laugh escapes you, and it stops him mid-sentence.

“I know it’s not the right time, but I don’t think there will ever be a right time, so I’m just… just putting it out there, okay? I think I love you. I can see myself with you, I—I think we could be good together. And I know this is sudden…” you trail off when you see movement behind him; you lean to the side to peer around him, but he blocks you with his body. “Is someone here?”

“I tried to tell you it’s not a good time,” he says, and he sounds apologetic and maybe a little embarrassed on your behalf. You swallow hard.

“Who’s—who’s here? Is it someone I know?” He shakes his head, and you exhale a ragged breath. That’s a small miracle, at least, that you didn’t just spew a love confession in front of one of your friends—well, two of your friends. “I should go. I need to go—I’m sorry.” You back up, but you bump into the door noisily; you forgot he’d closed it behind you. Someone comes into the hall to check on the sound, and of course, it’s a beautiful woman wearing one of Spencer’s sweaters and not much else. She is your opposite in every way, and that makes it hurt so much worse.

You really never stood a chance.

“Spencer? Is everything okay?” she asks, arms crossed over her chest, and you fumble for the doorknob, wrench the door open, and take off down the hall.

You run for your car—the rain has only gotten heavier, and if you were soaked before, you’re downright sodden now, your clothes soaked through—and you tug on the door handle, but it doesn’t budge: locked, of course. You pat your pockets for your keys, but by the time you find them, the small surge of adrenaline you felt has left your body, and all you feel is heartbreak.

You rest your arms against the window, your head against your arms, and take several deep, gasping breaths; tears follow, burning hot, streaming down your face, and for a few moments you just let them, let yourself ache with embarrassment and bitterness until it physically hurts to continue.

You exhale softly, wipe your face with your wet sleeve as if that fixes the problem, and then unlock your car and head to the only place—the only person—you can think of with your head so messed up.

Taglist 🤍: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner @hotforhotchner11 @itsmytimetoodream

[levi-lover]

Say my name

Levi x fem!reader

W/C: 1935

T/W: Smut, 18+, Female Masturbation, slight choking

A/N: I’m going through a writer’s block #rip so I edited the first smut piece I wrote back in December. It’s not my best but hey we all gotta start somewhere! 

You sat at the kitchen table, hunched over a book, entrenched into the words on the page. As the climax began to unravel, you swung your leg onto the chair and put your weight on your foot so you could lean closer to the table, closer to the book. Your body began to shake as you frantically read the pages, turning each furiously. 

You noticed you had less than ten pages to go, you slid your body closer to the table causing the ball of your foot to press against your core. You let out a small sigh, surprised by the sudden arousal. No, not now. Let me finish the book! You ignored the feeling but you kept on pressing your weight to your foot. You finished the book in a rush and as you closed the spine of the book, you let out a small sigh and untangled your legs from underneath you. 

“Wow,” you said out loud to the empty room. That was amazing, I can’t wait to tell Levi. After months of him pestering you to read the dang book, you finally read it. You hated to admit it but Levi was right, you did love it. You rolled your eyes at the thought of his stupid smug face tell you he told you were going to love it. Whatever at least I’ll have someone to talk about it with. Speaking of his stupid smug face, where is he? You looked over at the stove clock 4:23 it read. 

He had left over an hour ago to get groceries. He was normally quick and efficient, never gone for more than 40 minutes. Maybe he got caught up in traffic? You leaned back in the chair remembering the pressure in your core, you pressed your legs together and began to rub them. You closed your eyes in relief, another sigh escaped your mouth. You sat on your leg again, using your foot to apply pressure to yourself. As your body moved against your foot, your core began to tingle, with your left hand you grabbed your lower back and pushed yourself further into your foot, a moan escaped your mouth. You wished it would be Levi’s hands squeezing your lower back, hips, and thighs as he laid under your body, you wished you could be feeling his cock growing hard underneath you. 

“Fuck, where is that man? I need him.” 

You walked down the hallway into your shared bedroom. You sat at the foot of the bed, throwing your body against the crisp sheets, your legs dangled off the bed. You kept your eyes closed as your hand reached to your crotch, your fingers gently rubbing the fabric, your hips began to move along with your fingers desperate to feel more but you kept a slow pace. Your right hand reached over to your left breast and you began to massage yourself, feeling your nipple slowly harden under your shirt. A moan escaped your lips as you began to rub harder against your core, you reached your hands under your leggings feeling yourself over your underwear. You imagined Levi was the one touching you, closing your eyes tight, you pictured him laying over you, moaning into your ear. Heat began to pour into your cheek. You pushed your underwear aside, using your middle finger you touched your entrance. You trailed your finger up your slit, pressed down on your clit. Starting to draw tiny circles around the bundle of nerves, you felt the pressure build inside of you. You pressed down and moaned out Levi’s name. 

“Yes?” asked a deep voice from the doorway.

You rolled your head over and pulled the top of your body up. “Levi, you’re home!” Your hands still in your leggings, you smiled sheepishly at him. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

He chucked, “the lights were off. I assumed you were napping so I came in quietly. Tsk, looks like you were busy doing something else.” 

Levi was leaning against the door, one eyebrow was up as he looked over at you with amusement on his face. You could tell he was trying not to laugh. You pulled your hands out of your pants. 

“Oh, no. Don’t stop on my account, brat. Keep going” He walked over to you, the smell of pine and mint hitting your nose. 

Fuck, I did a good job when I bought that cologne. 

He was standing at the foot of the bed, looking down at you. His arms folded across his broad chest, his dark hair gently floating over his gray eyes. He put both arms on either side of your body as he leaned over, his legs spread over yours. You squirmed as you felt his breath near your face, you looked down overwhelmed by the heat coming off of your checks. He used his right hand to gently grab your face, his fingers were warm and firm. A sigh escaped your lips as he tilted your head up, forcing you to make eye contact with him. You saw the excitement and arousal in his eyes as he examined your face. He loved looking at you when you were like this, he loved knowing he was turning you on without even having to do anything to you. It made him feel powerful and it made him feel loved. 

As much as he loved giving you pleasure, he also loved making you wait for it. He looked at your lips, they were parted as small, jagged breaths escaped from your chest. His cock began to press against his jeans as he looked over you. He wanted to fuck you so bad but he knew he had to wait.

He lowered his head and began to whisper into your ear, “are you gonna stop touching that pretty little pussy ‘cause I’m here, huh?”

You closed your eyes and moaned, you felt yourself getting wetter. You loved it when he talked dirty to you. He placed his hands on your neck and began choking you gently. He pushed you onto the bed. 

“Go to the top of the bed. That’s an order” 

You nodded and whispered, “yes, sir.” 

You laid your head on your pillow and looked back to Levi, he was on his knees staring at you from the bottom of the bed. 

“Take off your shirt.” You pulled off the shirt you were wearing and tossed it somewhere in the room. “Good girl. Pull down your leggings and only your leggings.”

You yanked down the fabric as Levi watching, smirking. You laid back, feeling the cool air of the room touch your naked body, goosebumps appeared on your stomach and thighs. Levi looked at you, waiting for you to make eye contact before he made his next order. He loved to look directly into your eyes during sex, he loved knowing you were fully present with him, that you needed him. 

“Touch yourself but if you even dare to put a finger inside, you’ll get punished, okay?”

“Mmmm” you mumbled, as you began to rub yourself again, the pleasure from before quicking rising inside of you; knowing that Levi was watching you turned you on even more. 

“Am I joke to you?”

“N-,o” you mustered out as your body began to tense, a coil starting to form inside of your stomach.

“Then answer me when I speak to you, got it, slut?” Levi’s voice became rough and dark, he wasn’t joking around. 

“Y-yes, what do I do next?” you moaned. 

“I want you to keep on rubbing yourself, do a good job for me.” You peaked over at Levi and who started to rub himself through his jeans. He was biting his bottom lips trying to hold in a moan. You arched your back at the beautiful sight. 

“Start fucking yourself,” he ordered. 

“Yes, Levi.” You start by putting in one finger and curl it into your body, slowly you insert one more, you could feel every inch of yourself. The noise of your wet cunt and moans filled the air. Levi let go of his moan and he began to unzip his jeans. Fuck, I love him so much. You squeezed your eyes shut and focused on Levi’s moans.  

“I want to hear you say my name.” 

“Yes, Levi.” you took your fingers out of your entrance and ran them back up your slit, your back arched at your touch, this was good but it would feel so much better if it was Levi doing this to you. You started touching your clit again, circling around it, the coil getting tighter and tighter. From the bottom of the bed, you heard the sound of Levi’s hands on his cock, you bit your lip just thinking about it. 

“I told you to say my name like the good girl you are”

You threw your head back and started shouting Levi’s name.“F-fuck, Levi.” 

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Levi tossed his head back, he was holding his cock in his angular hands, stoking it up and down. He wanted to shove it inside of you, you were so wet and all he had to do was boss you around. He smiled at the thought of you fucking yourself to the memory of him. 

“Mmm Levi, ‘m close.” You rotated between rubbing circles around your clit to pressing down on it, As the coil snapped, your back arched and pleasure flooded your body, your legs began to pulse. You looked over to see Levi’s face twisted in joy as his cock twitched in his hands and white strings of cum shot out from the tip. He looked at it with content before pulling off his t-shirt to clean off his hands. He glanced up at you and smirked, “that’s my good girl.”

You let out a sigh of relief and held your arms open, inviting him to come in. He chuckled before crawling his way to you. He rested his head in the crook of your neck, wrapping his toned arms around you. Levi placed small kisses on your skin, his hands caressed your waist with a feather-soft touch. You started trailing circles around his back. He loved when you touched him like this, so gentle and full of love. 

“I missed you,” you whispered. 

“Tsk, I wasn’t even gone long.” 

“Yeah, but you were gone longer than usual, it was pure pain!” 

He laughed at your dramatic nature. 

“I guess since you couldn’t keep my name out of your lips.”

“Fuck you.”

“I know you want to,” he retorted. 

“Whatever, anyways what took you so long? I finished the book and I wanted to talk about it!”

“I see. That’s why you were moaning my name. I had to wait for them to stalk up on someone’s favorite brand of oat milk. But you liked it, huh? I knew you would.” You didn’t even have to look at face to see the smug expression he was making. 

“Yeah, I did like it, so what? But wait you got me oat milk? Doesn’t that need to be refrigerated?” you asked. The both of you had been going at for a while now. 

Levi jumped out of you arms and shouted, “fuck! I didn’t put the groceries away!”

“Haha, loser!” 

“Shut up, Brat. Help me put them away and then I’ll actually fuck you.” 

“Aye, aye, Captain!” You shouted like a soldier getting ready for battle. You put clean clothes on and raced him to the kitchen. When Levi said he was going to do something he would do it.

[lewdbabies]

~The neighbor ~

part 2

nanami kentox reader smut

warning: MDNI, 18+, Raw sex , praising kink, Language, Rough sex, Breeding, smut

Part 2

Work was slow as usual, after morning hours the cafe tends to slow down lunch and dinner were served but it wasn’t very popular. Judging by the way Nanami was in a rush earlier it seemed he didn’t have time to stop by for his regular Black coffee. You lean against the register catching up on the latest novel you’d been reading. Your boss is in the back doing “Inventory “ which really meant taking a nap in the office. You glance at the clock perched on the wall, 1:30 pm, you sigh time was dragging on today. You turn your attention back onto your book engrossing yourself in the literature.

“Hello may I see the lunch menu please”

You jump.

You’d been so enraptured by your book you hadn’t even heard the door bell ring.

“Y-yes W-welcome let me grab that for you one second” you slam your book shut and quickly squat down grabbing a laminated lunch menu.

You look up and you’re met with brown eyes.

He smiles grabbing the menu, your hands brush lightly. You’re panicking, this is the first time he’s ever came to the cafe for lunch. He nods walking to A booth furthest from the entrance, you watch in awe admiring his physic. You grab a towel and begin to buss tables giving him time to decide what he wanted. Your eyes keep darting over at him blushing every Time your eyes meet. He doesn’t seem to mind he gives you a small smile in response.

After a while you walk to the register to grab your note pad and pen. You reach in your pocket for your lip gloss dabbing some on before making your way over to his table. He’s looking down, his brows scrunched in focus.

“Is anything looking good” you call out cheerfully.

“Yes you are” his tongue slides across his lips.

“Pardon?” You asked unsure of what you heard.

“I said yes it is” he rubs his chin staring directly into your eyes.

You ignore it deciding you’re just hearing things, He points to a item on the menu.

“This will be fine “ he states.

“The eggs Benedict, Alright and for your drink?” You scribble on your note pad.

“Black coffee should suffice” he nods to himself in approval.

“Alrighty I will have that right up” you rip the paper from your pad and start towards the kitchen.

“Order up!” You call back, sticking the ticket up.

You were in charge of making all the coffee related orders, came with being a barista/cashier. You didn’t mind though, you learned to Create lots of different foam patterns. Coffee making was fun if you made it, you even created a couple secrete menu items of your own.

You reach for a mug, pouring the freshly brewed coffee inside, steam swirls from the cup. You set the mug ontop of your silver serving tray and make your way back to his table. He’s looking through a stack of papers, his briefcase sits open on the table top.

“Here’s your coffee” you grab the glass in an attempt to hand it to him unaware of how hot it is. The glass burns your hand causing you to drop it out of reflex. It crashes down spraying all over Nanami’s suit and paper work.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry!” You grab a fist full of paper towels frantically trying to clean off his suit. You pat the spilled coffee from his lap, He shifts in his seat.

“Uhn-“ he makes a soft noise catching you off guard.

You bolt up your face is red hot, you look away in embarrassment.

“I-I can pay to have this dry cleaned! Ugh I’m such a klutz-“

He interjects “no it’s fine you don’t have to do that”

“Please allow me too I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t” you bite your lip in guilt.

His eyes darken at the sight of you standing there looking so remorseful and innocent. He looks away for a second debating his next move.

“If you insist, the jacket only will be enough I assure you” he says slowly, sliding his coat off. His arms bulge through his white button down shirt.

He hands you the jacket hesitantly You’re dying of embarrassment.

“I’ll have this back to you tomorrow I swear it” you blurt quickly walking away.

~

“That coffee was a nightmare to get out kid” The dry cleaner complains.

You give an apologetic look as you sign the ticket finalizing the payment.

“Thanks again For getting it done so quick Danny”

“Yeah yeah yeah next time tell the guy to make the coffee land in his mouth got it” you laugh as you wave goodbye walking out the door. You check your phone , 6:10 pm, Nanami asked you to be there at 5:30 but work held you up today.

Luckily the dry cleaners is around the block from your apartment like most things. Before you know it your apartment entrance is in sight, You push the elevator button. It takes forever as usual, when it finally arrives you walk inside. Nanami lived on the same floor as you just opposite sides. You walk down the hall that connects your building’s searching for unit 12.

Your phone lights up, it’s a text from nanami ‘having trouble finding me?’ You laugh to yourself stopping to type back.

‘Closer than you think’ just as you press send the door in front of you swings open.

You jump with a fright, he sure had a way of scaring you. He’s standing there dressed completely different from how you were use to seeing him. He wore a green long sleeve top, Casual dark jeans , his eyes were covered by strange glasses.

“Come on in” he smirks.

You step over the threshold laying the jacket across his cream couch. His apartment was clean, not regular clean, everything was perfectly in its place. Despite all the lighter themes there wasn’t a spec of dirty anywhere in sight.

“I’m sorry I’m late work-“ you explain

“I understand, would you like a drink “ he disappears into the kitchen, returning with two wine glasses and a bottle of an unknown expensive looking champagne.

“Uh-uh yeah sure”

You sit on the couch crossing one leg over the other nervously. The space beside you dips as he sits next to you. You watch the muscles in his hands twitch as he pours your glass. You squirm in your seat, squeezing your legs tightly together.

‘Is he smirking’ you think to yourself watching him out the corner of your eye.

He hands you the drink before pouring his own. He watches curiously over the rim of his glass as he takes a sip, His stare sends a twitch through your clit.

“You like Austen as well?” He asks, you give a confused look.

He continues “ The book you were reading earlier” you realize he must have caught a glimpse at it earlier.

“Oh, Yes I do she is one of my favorites actually” you admit.

He reaches over tucking a fallen strand of hair behind your ear.

“I’m sorry im kind of a neat freak I hope I didn’t offend you-“ he doesn’t move his hand away.

“N-no it’s okay” your body is warm, the alcohol creeps up on you slowly. Before you can stop yourself you nuzzling closer into his palm, his thumb strokes your cheek. He slides his hand to the nape of your neck gently pulling you closer as he leans in.

“Is this okay?” He breathes parting his lips.

Your breathing becomes erratic as you glance down at his lips inches from your own.

“Y-yes...” he runs his tongue gently over your bottom lip before capturing them in a hungry kiss.

He briefly breaks away removing his glasses setting them on the coffee table. In one swift motion he grips your waist hoisting you onto his lap, you wrap your arms around his neck in surprise. You lean into him pushing him into the couch cushion his hand travels up your back to your neck pulling you to his waiting lips. “Mmm Uhn-“ He moans slipping his tongue between your lips.

You grind against him the clothing between you becoming an unwanted barrier. His skillful hands slide up your back release your bra clasp, he pulls away flustered and messy hair’d. You lift your arms as he slides your shirt and bra above your head tossing it into the far corner.

“Keep your arms above your head” He orders.

You obey holding your arms up, His tongue attacks your strained nipples. He sucks gently, Using his hand to tease the other, it’s too much to take and your arms drop.

“Arms up or I stop, Little one” you whimper raising your hands above your head.

He sucks your hard bud into his mouth giving it a soft nip sending lighting between your thighs.

“Ah Ah Please mmmnh-“ you plead for more. His hands travel up your skirt pushing your panties aside invading your soaking folds.

“Mmmm so wet already” he brings his fingers to his lips tasting your excitement.

“You’ve been dreaming of this haven’t you, watching me stroke my cock through your drapes at night “ he plunges two fingers inside your slippery hole. You gasp holding back a scream as he finger fucks you slowly.

“Take it out” he demands.

You waste no time unzipping his pants and freeing his pulsing member. You stroke his length admiring how big he is.

“Sit on it” he grips your waist positioning your entrance with his tip. He strokes your slit teasing you making you beg for more.

You grind against him pushing down desperate for him to fill you up. He lets out a feral growl slamming you down on his cock mercilessly.

“Fuck yeah take it, Ah you like the way I stretch your little pussy don’t you” he slaps your ass bouncing you up and down.

He rails into you at a feverish pace, your hips colliding relentlessly.

“ Look at me, Look me in my fucking eyes, show me that pretty face while I fuck you” he groans.

You look at him tears of pleasure staining your face as you get closer to your climax.

He grabs your hair crashing his lips to yours entangling your tongues.

“Ah Ah I’m gonna cum” you cry out, he Drills harder into you biting the soft skin of your neck.

“Cum for me princess, yeah just like that, good girl” he moans.

“Look at me, Look at me, show me how you cum baby, Ah fuck” it sent you over the edge your walls clench around him juices washing over his twitching cock. His eyes roll back as he messily pumps into you filling you with cum. You fall forward, he wraps his arms around you holding you together. You’re both sweat drenched and fucked out depending on each other’s bodies for support.

“You should have spilled coffee on me sooner” he states seriously.

You look at each other in silence before breaking into uncontrollable laughter.

“I agree” you say smiling like a idiot.

~the end💗 comment please tell me who you’d like to see next 🥵🥲

[hauntingmothgirl]

To Hell and Back PART 3

Hi so a lot of people liked that last part, thank you for the support, it really made me smile and made my day. If you have any suggestions/requests or want me to write a specific scene then feel free to ask, my dms are open, but for now here’s part 3! This series spans across the ending of season 4 if it wasn’t already clear enough.

✰

        The flight to Windsor, Ontario, Canada felt longer than it should have. Trying to avoid Spencer’s prying and profiling eyes was harder than it seemed. Even staring at her book wasn’t enough to keep him from noticing how long she had been on a single page. And the looks the team were now giving to a certain profiler who seemed to be studying every movement of his co-worker were hard to ignore. 

        By the time the plane had touched down, Y/n had cleaned up her space and was sitting on the edge of her seat, book in hand and satchel across her chest. As soon as it was clear to leave Y/n was out of her seat, mumbling a thank you to a flight attendant and hurrying down the steep steps. The normal cars they had assigned to them were directly outside, waiting for the team. Flinging an SUV door open and hurrying into the back, ducking behind the headrest, she tried her best to see over her hiding spot to check if the hour ride to R.C.M.P. Headquarters was going to be one filled with torture, or one filled with awkward silence. 

        She was just about to sit up, realizing how idiotic she looked and how stupid she would feel if someone spotted her when an uncoordinated Reid tried to hurry down the steps without looking, well… hurried. A grimace settled onto his face as he squinted through the sunlight trying to spot her. Rossi was next behind him, taking slow steps. Clapping a hand on his back and leaning in, Rossi muttered something in Reid’s ear, smiled and then started for the car. Reid’s demeanor shifted, his shoulders went stiff and then relaxed, his expression softened and then fell. He took off for the next car. 

        Y/n sat upright and stuffed her nose into her book as Rossi entered the car, pulling his seatbelt on before finally starting the car. “You can sit in the front if you like, you know?” He offered, looking up in the mirror to meet her eyes. Hesitating, she dropped her book and moved to the door. Settling into the front passenger seat, she forced herself to keep her eyes forward. The drive started out fine at first, Rossi didn’t try to make conversation and let the silence flow comfortably around them. After the first 20 minutes of driving and staring down endless highways, Y/n had grown restless and drew her book back to her, in need of something to occupy her mind. As she read her eyes grew heavy, sore, and her head fell forward slowly. Every so often she fought against closing her eyes fully and instead found herself sinking further and further into her seat. By the time she had woken up, the drive was over. 

  ✰

         “Come on Sunshine,” a voice laughed near her ear, startling her out of her sleep. Craning her now sore neck to peer up at the person who stood with her door open, trying to unbuckle her now, she rubbed her eyes. “Have a good nap?” He chuckled, taking her satchel from out of the backseat. She grimaced, taking his hands to help lift herself up, steadying her balance. “Where are we, Derek?” She asked, taking a look around. “Headquarters, they dropped your bags off at the hotel, told me to give you your room key for tonight. You were knocked out for a while, Rossi didn’t wanna wake you when we got to the hotel. Don’t worry, we didn’t go through any of your belongings,” he added with a smirk. Looking up at the headquarters, she smoothed her shirt and pulled her into a ponytail, trying to look decent, or at least as if she hadn’t been asleep for the past hour. “Thank you,” she mumbled, taking her satchel from his hands. “No problem.” 

           A thought popped into her head as she pulled the satchel onto her shoulder, “Aren't you supposed to be with Prentiss?” she asked, twisting to look for the other profiler. “Yes, mother,” he chuckled, “I’m heading there now, but the teams inside and I'm apparently on wakeup duty. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a job to do,” he answered, walking backwards towards another SUV. “Drive safe,” she called after him, turning to the big building as he called back, “You know it.” 

        The building was big and red. Bigger on the inside than she anticipated, multiple floors, lots of bustle and busy people. The faint smell of peppermint and air freshener wafted to her nose. As she entered the building she caught sight of the rest of her team, giving a small smile as she started towards them. “Morning sleepyhead,” JJ cooed. Her stomach did flip flops as she came to a stop in front of them, locking eyes with Spencer. “Very funny,” she retorted as the team started to set a stride. 

        A small elevator sat at the far end of the room, a door titled, “Stairs Access,” stood just across from it. On any normal day Y/n would’ve chosen the stairs, she had always had a problem with the close quarters of an elevator, the uncertainty and danger of such an unstable device had always left her off put. But a long way to the ninth floor on the stairs would not only be physically tiring, but would most definitely be accompanied by a certain doctor to her left who had been dying to talk to her alone. Still, the team became increasingly interested when Y/n stepped in with them. “Someone’s getting brave, huh?” JJ chuckled, “Just too tired to deal with the stairs today.”

        The hallway the doors opened to was short and led out to a giant office full of people. Tan walls extended on each side, the tiles on the floor reflected the lights above them. A man met Rossi in the entrance of the room, exchanging pleasantries and introducing the team, it was impossible not to notice the way Spencer’s gaze kept flickering to hers. Two red offices stood at the far end of the room and the room to the right of them. Walking in between the desks and making his way to one of the rooms, Jeff led the team, “I've got a victim board and timelines set up on monitors in the conference room. Anything you need, you've got the run of the place.” 

         “We appreciate it,” Rossi replied lightly.” “Don’t thank me, Thank the unsub. He's the one that put you all in charge.”

        Something about that last remark hit Y/n the wrong way, wrinkling her nose in agitation. JJ excused herself to go talk to Garcia as Y/n took in the room. A long conference table sat in the middle of the room, six chairs pushed into it. A tv hung on the left wall, faces of the victims littering the screen. Rossi took in the site, then moved around the table to make room for Reid and Y/n. Following Reid, she took a second to go over the tv soon realizing that she had already seen the pictures in the file JJ had supplied her with. Realizing that everyone’s backs were to them, Spencer made the quick decision to steal a look at her. Turning on her heel to walk away from the screen, her eyes reached his, the pleading look on his face was enough to make her stomach turn. Guilt flooded her, all he probably wants is his best friend back, this isn’t fair to him. Did I ruin our friendship?  Turning around to take her place next to Rossi. “You believe that he killed all these people?” Reid asked, his eyes turning back to the screen, “Fits the profile,” Officer Jeff responded absentmindedly. “How so?” Rossi asked, clearly quizzing his former student, everyone in this room knew of the Unsubs history, but Jeff answered nonetheless. “He got a recent physical trauma. Could be a stressor. Wide disparity of victims. No bodies. Possible border cross. Two entirely different terrains,” He paused, “To pull that off, you'd have to be smart, you'd have to be organized, mobile, physical.” His missing leg ran through Y/n‘s mind once again, before the accident this all could’ve been possible, but now? After such physical trauma? It didn't make sense. 

        “Military background gives you all that,” Rossi finished for him.

 “Exactly,” Officer Bedwell hummed.

        “It appears as though he clusters his victims into men, then women, and then back to men again.” Spencer’s voice raised in tone, confusion heavy in his voice. 

        “What does that tell you?” Officer Bedwell asked.

“At the moment, nothing.”

        They were informed that he hadn’t contacted family, nor a lawyer and was awaiting an interrogation. Hotch was the last person to talk, deducing that since this man had contacted the FBI, he would want to speak to whoever he believed was the most in charge. 

        The interrogation room was dimly lit, only one light directly overhead, the room behind the glass was filled with two officers, Rossi, Reid and Y/n. Crammed into the few chairs there were, Y/n watched, her brows furrowed, as Hotch sat down at the table. William was a tall man, broad shoulders and muscular arms, he sat in silence, a detached look sewn onto his features. A black goatee rested above his lips, his hair was cropped in a buzz cut, understandable due to his military background. His body shows his training too, he sat straight up, shoulders back, hands on his thighs, his legs slightly spread. The pinnacle of perfect posture. 

        It was silent as Hotch announced himself as the behavioral analysis unit chief from the FBI. William’s face didn't change as his eyes lifted to Hotch’s, “You’re here to analyze me.” This wasn’t a question, but a statement. “No, I’m here to take your confession and find out where you dumped your victims,” Hotch corrected. Y/n could see the technique Hotch was using beginning to form, diminishing any hope of negotiation. Setting himself in charge in the room and demanding the attention, making it clear that this was Hotch’s room, not Heightower’s, taking away any slimmer of wiggle room around the conversation. He continued, “Or are you wasting my time?” 

        Y/n’s boss was always great at keeping his voice firm but somewhat monotone when speaking to unsubs, not letting emotion intercede unless it was directly needed. “I gave you names, I gave you dates.” William bounced around the subject, his voice low and gravely, as if he hadn’t spoken in hours. Hotch reigned the conversation back onto topic easily, “You didn’t give me a dump site.” It was silent for a moment, as if an unspoken staring contest had started, the Unit Chief’s jaw was set, William was withholding information and he wasn’t intending on opening up anytime soon. “You were a sergeant,” Hotch started, again not a question, a statement intended to gain an emotional reaction, “You led troops, probably lost men.” Y/n’s eyes flickered to William’s just as he let out a hesitant, “a few.” 

        “What would their parents feel if they didn’t know whether their sons were dead or alive?” Hotch tried. The tension shifted uncomfortably. A cord was struck, “Don’t lecture me on notifying families, I’ve been on those doorsteps,” as William spoke his voice rose slightly from the whisper it had started out as. He’s protective of these men, his angry tone shows Hotch’s words affect him, why is he trying so hard to make us not see that? “No one cares about those people, why should I?” His head shakes as he says it, even his own body is rejecting the words he’s saying, subconsciously disagreeing with them. Hotch’s words have caught him off guard, this technique is making him emotional.

        Rossi’s voice interrupts Y/n’s thoughts, “Here we go.” 

        “What do you mean?” An officer to the right of Y/n’s chair asks, he leans against the interrogation window, unknowingly making her scoot her legs closer to herself. He mindlessly takes up so much of the little space beside her that she cringes uncomfortably away from him. “An interrogation doesn’t really start until you get the first lie,” Rossi finishes, so he picked up on it too. Hotch’s voice silences all of them as he resumes the conversation through the glass, “See that’s just the thing William, you were out there every night. You took their photographs, you checked off their names in a notebook,” William remains blank as he mutters, “So?” Hotch grimaces at the answer and then continues, “Your behavior was more like a protector, like someone in the army doing a bed check.” If Hotch’s words resonate with anything at all to him, he doesn’t show it and lets him continue. “You’ve gone to a lot of trouble to confess to a crime you didn’t commit,” Hotch accuses. 

        Suddenly all reservation in William is gone, his lips quiver as he spits the words out angrily, “The folks on the street, did they tell you people were missing?” It's like he’s trying to prove their absence rather than his own guilt. 

        “If my team is here there are cases we are not working on, you are wasting our time.” 

        “10 people dead, huh?” Swallowing harshly, scowling, challenging Hotch, “That’s not enough for you?” 

        “I’ve watched the tape of you at the border cross over and over again, you wait until every guard is out of the booth before you drive into it,” Hotch raises his voice, as he leans closer to the table, “if you wanted to kill people you had your chance.” 

        William’s voice is booming now, his face enraged, “Are you investigating these murders or not?!” His whole body shakes violently as silence fills the room. “So that’s what this is all about?” Hotch questions, “Making sure we investigate?” What a way to do so. “If you thought people were being killed you should’ve gone to the police in Detroit.” Another shudder rips through William, “I already did,” his voice is low as it break. “3 times. They told me the kind of people I was looking for disappeared.” His voice trembled, the light reflecting off tears in his eyes, “They said that’s the way life on the street works.” Silence enveloped them again. 

        Struggling to keep his composure, he enunciated every word, “Do. You. Believe. The. People. I. Showed. You. Are. Missing?” 

        “I believe it's possible.”

        Rage wracked through his frame once again, “Don’t give me a political answer!”

        Hotch hesitated, giving himself a moment before he responded, “Tell me about what happened the night before the border cross.” William opened his mouth and then shut it before starting, “I did a head count,” he began. “Every night for the past month, like we do in Baghdad. That night I saw a boy named Charles wasn’t where he usually camped down.” The mention of a boy sends a pang of pain through Y/n’s chest, wondering how old the boy must have been. Hopefully he had meant a young man, rather than a young boy. The idea of a child in the case was a sore subject. Swallowing the hard lump in her throat, she hoped she hadn't shown any visible signs of discomfort. 

        “So I made another pass.”

“He didn’t turn up?”

        “By the morning I knew he was gone,” another scowl had set on his face, though this time it wasn’t targeted at the man across from him. “William,” Hotch started, sympathy thick in his voice, “People don’t do what you did out of honor.” He paused, “They do it out of love.” William’s lack of a response was enough to confirm their suspicions. “Who were you looking for on the streets every night.” His brows furrowed as William prepared himself before continuing, “I got home from Iraq, first thing my mother told me was that my baby sister Lee was on the streets.” Y/n’s heart sunk, with the way he’d been acting there was no way this story was going to end well. Rossi must have noticed it too because out of the corner of Y/n’s eye she watched him shake his head slightly, turning away from the glass before coming back to it, exhaling roughly. 

        William continued, “She asked me to find her.”

        “But you couldn’t?” Hotch pried.

        “I managed once. Brought her home, we got her fed.” His eyes fell, staring longingly as his voice broke yet again, “She even wore my dog tags. For good luck.” Y/n closed her eyes for a moment, sighing. No matter how long you were on this job, no matter what horrors you’d seen, it never gets easier to hear from the relatives of people who’ve gone missing. The team was evidence of that, Rossi’s head was to the side, face contorted in uncomfort. The officers sat quietly, staring at their laps. Though Hotch had to remain indifferent in order to keep control of the room, his face was no longer hard and stern. While he held his lips together in a tight line, a deep sadness sat behind his eyes, something only his colleagues who’d worked with him for so long would pick up on. 

         “Two weeks later, she slipped back onto the streets.” Composure was no longer an option for William, his breathing came out in short, quick breaths as his chest visibly shook. The tears spilled over, “That was it,” he barely managed to let out, another shaky breath in.

         “William, you’ve got so much information about the other potential victims, why not Lee?” Hotch asked, though this was a raw subject, it was still vital to know. Blinking rapidly in order to control the tears and reign his emotions back in, Heightower replied, “I hid it in a spare tire, in my car.” That explained why none of the team had any knowledge about Lee, organized and brilliant, William had intentionally left her out of the files he created for us. He wouldn't have even been considered had the officers known how close he really was to one of the victims, Y/n pondered. “I needed to wait until I was sure,” while the tears had stopped and his breathing was now in control, his hands still shook slightly under the table as he finished, “that you were on board.”

         That was all the team needed to hear, Frankie excused herself from the room. Walking down the hall as she assembled her thoughts. The car would definitely be in evidence somewhere, how they hadn’t managed to find the new piece of the puzzle was surprising, confused she wandered the hall trying to find the stairs. 

        The sound of the stairwell door opening made Y/n falter. She’d reached a platform between the set of stairs, eyes glancing to the door at the end of the platform that would take her to the hallway. Stairwells were where most assaults happened, but due to the fact that she was in a police department, she pushed that thought to the back of her head and continued to the next set of stairs. It wasn’t until she heard the pitter patter of quick footsteps behind her, that she realized she should have taken her chances with the elevator. 

        “ Y/n?” A pang of dread ran through her body in slow waves. Turning slowly on her heel, her eyes met Dr. Reid’s. His face was contorted, his eyes fixed on the ground, then fluttered back up to hers. “I-” 

        “Did I miss something on Heightower?” His eyebrows furrowed, confusion making it’s way on to his features. 

        “No- I just-” 

“Does this have anything to do with this case or a previous one?”

        “No-”

“So this is not work related?”

        “No, it’s not, but-”

        “Then we should not be having this conversation.” Starting back down the stairs, he was next to her in a moment. “I know that, but the other night I didn’t mean to make it seem like-” “Spencer,” her nose scrunched up in uncomfort. “Please, don't do this.” Another flight of steps was through. At this point she was counting them down in her head. 

        “Y/n, I wasn’t trying to hurt you, it just seemed like the worst time and I didn’t want you to-” “Spencer, please.” One more flight to go. 

        “Okay but give me a moment to-” 

         “Spencer!” 

        Blinking back tears, she tried to reason with him. “That was the single most humiliating thing I’ve ever done. Just having to look you in the eyes right now is unbelievably painful. Knowing that our friendship will probably never go back to the way it was is killing me and you bringing attention to it every five seconds is making it worse,” she rambled. “I mean for God’s sake Morgan won't stop trying to profile me and Hotch looks at me like a kicked puppy. I can tell everyone here is second guessing my decision to come back and I’m already having a hard enough time proving that I’m okay without your worried glances making everything worse so please. Give me some space, some time before I have to have this conversation with you.” 

        Spencer’s eyes flickered down, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”

        “I just can’t do this right now Spencer.” Opening the door and entering the lobby she made her way to an officer, flashing her badge and asking where the evidence storage room was.

✰

okay that’s part 3, again, i hope it didn’t disappoint. and if it did then, again, that's chill too. tagged everyone who wanted a part 3. i know it was pretty long but i wanted to get a lot of the dialogue out of the way so i can focus on the reader and spencer in the next couple parts, rather than just the case, although that is pretty important. thank yall so much for the kind words!! and again if you have any suggestions or recommendations just ask, and if you want to be tagged in part 4, let me know! if you want me to stop tagging you then let me know that too lol. part 4 will be up tomorrow. have a beautiful day loves :)

@anarchy-n-glitter i love you sm, thank you for the support lol.

@reidselle​

@doctorspenceryeet​

@ashwarren32

@reidsbookclub​

Part 2

Part 4

Masterlist

[nerdy-simp-7120]

hi! if you're comfortable writing this, could i ask for a scenario? this has been in the back of my head for a while.

what would be the reaction of the brothers + dateables of watching mc play resident evil in the dimitrescu castle? who would be down bad the most

thank you! feel free to ignore this if you don't want to write this ofc

I love this ask (stan tall vampire lady). The only thing is that I accidentally turned it into a “how they feel about the game.” I managed to add in some parts with MC playing as well to make up for it

Update: I literally finished the request yesterday but my wifi went down and I lost everything  😩 😩

I also wrote this in the middle of the night so sorry if there are any errors! Enjoy!

Warnings: cursing.

How the OM! characters would react to you playing Resident Evil (Dimitrescu Castle edition)

Lucifer

Will not care at first

"I hold no interest in such trivial simulations."

His weakness? Being a simp for you.

He decides to look into the game a bit more in private later on.

Will lowkey practice the game

If you ever catch him playing it, do not say anything because he will stop immediately, deny everything, and might not ever do it again

With time, however, Lucifer will come to master the game.

Here comes the showing off.

When you're rambling about the game with Levi, Lucifer will join the conversation and you two will be like "wow, boomer knows something for once--"

Or when you're struggling on a part of the game he will be like, "hand it over"

Before expertly getting through that part.

Can defeat Lady Dimitrescu if you ask him to but be careful cause he might make you beg

sadistic bastard

or you can be a badass and show him your skills

Will be a tad shocked at how easily you handled it but won't let it show (okay Elsa)

Also proud though

Lucifer's internal monologue: “That’s right- show them how it’s done, Y/n.”

Mammon

Scared.

Will watch you play and cover his eyes during every battle

"wHAT IS THAT?!" at everything you come across

I hope you're good at playing one-handed because you'll have to use the other hand to hold his throughout the entire thing

Admires you're bravery but would never admit it

"You were horrible! ...N-nice job beating the game, not that I c-care or anything. You sucked anyways!"

Not even 10 seconds later...

"Can I watch you play again?"

Comes to find that the faces you make are adorable: when you're concentrating on a battle, when you win, find a valuable item, etc

He loves being able to see how you're feeling up close.

If you catch him staring when you take a break or something he'll blush and either ask you if you have a staring problem or that you have something on your face

He may or may not buy cheap merch (a tiny key chain of Lady Dimitrescu or your favorite character) for you, all the while spewing lame excuses

Please bear with him- he's trying.

Leviathan

"YOU ALSO LIKE RESIDENT DEVIL?!?? Ah! I-I mean..."

Congrats, you just found yourself someone to discuss the game with

Is open to cosplay the characters with you

You two will have competitions to see who can beat the game faster.

You both also share theories with each other all the time

Or simply discuss the characters together

He purposefully stays quiet to hear you ramble on and on- dude finds it adorable

You two also sometimes argue debate over a character name or event in the game

Because while you have Resident Evil

He only knows Resident Devil

This is the equivalent of Devilgram and Instagram

I mean

They’re the same,

But a couple things were altered, y’know, to prevent copyright

So yes, there are definitely a few quarrels here and there

But all in all, it’s a fun gamer bud experience

Don’t tell him I told you but he thinks it’s hot when you show off your badass skills in a boss fight

Satan

He plays it on the lowkey.

Not because he’s embarrassed

But because he partially takes his anger out on the characters

During gory scenes, he imagines it’s him torturing Lucifer, fueling his determination to win

A calculated person, Satan is a smart player

But there are times when he’s particularly angry and he becomes a reckless one, jumping into fights impetuously

This is where you come in and beat the enemy for him

He may get angrier, thinking you are underestimating him

But, for the sake of the person he loves, he calms down knowing you didn’t mean to offend him

A small part in the back of his head also admires you for being able to handle the fight a ton better than he did

Congratulations, you just earned yourself the great Satan’s respect (resident evil-wise).

Asmodeus

“Oh my, I never knew you were into such gory games! Does this mean you’re into blood play, because I know many things about--”

He may look carefree on the outside

But on the inside?

Let’s take a look, shall we?

Holy shit

What the fu--

Jesus christ, can you pull a move like that in real life?

He needs to be careful to not piss you off.

If you can handle this, who knows what you could be capable of?

Hold on.

Wait, you look so concentrated

Eeep! How cute!

Anyways, it ends with him snapping a bunch of pictures 

Keeps them for himself and may brag to his brothers about how he got some “special” shots of you

Obviously never elaborates on what the special part means to keep his dear siblings on edge because, what the hell, they want to know what these special shots are

Would not play the game because there’s “tOo MuCh BlOoDsHeD”

We all know he’s most likely seen his fair share of bloodshed

“What if the adrenaline gives me acne?”

He’s probably just bad at the game--

Verdict: Asmo is a simp and not afraid to flaunt it.

Beel

...Are you okay?

Do you think about homicide--?

Oh, that lady looks nice.

Huh, she’s 9′6″??

What’s her name? Lady Dimitrescu?

Okay-- WAIT WHY IS SHE TURNING INTO THAT??

Not scared, just a tad bit concerned 

Poor Beel, concerned for Lady D :’)

Also, seeing the death’s of Bela, Daniela, and Cassandra hit different

Because he know what it’s like to lose a sibling.

Safe to say he understands Alcina’s pain when she raged about her children being dead.

Also concerned about how the gore could affect you

Because isn’t stuff like this supposed to traumatize humans?

Would support you regardless though

And thinks that you’re really brave for playing the game and still being able to stand strong

On another note, Beel decided to make small flower graves for the three sisters and Alcina because he’s adorable and kind like that

Belphegor

Likes the game but is too lazy to play himself

Regularly watches Satan play (or at least as much as he can before deciding it’s nap time)

I hope you enjoy Belphie using you as a body pillow and watching you play from now on 

Makes small comments here and there to help you out

“To your left... Oh, and open the window- yeah, that one.”

Will smirk, impressed, when you deal with the fights and win yourself without his comments.

“That’s my Y/n”

(Sorry I don’t know what else to put for him :’))

Diavolo

“Is this a human trend?” meme

Will watch excitedly and “oooo” whenever you do something cool

Be careful though, because the questions will not stop as you play

“What’s that? I see. What’s it for? How do you win the game? Who’s that character? Why can’t you do this? What about--?”

Diavolo, you’re awesome and all, but please

shush

On the inside, is also one that might be a tad concerned about your mental health because doesn’t that gore traumatize humans?

Wait, you do this for entertainment?

...

Another warning: he will shower you in merchandise from the game

I am not above the fact that this man has a game room 

And he will try to master the game

Casually pushes all his paperwork over to Lucifer so he can play Resident Evil

RIP Luci

Unfortunately, Diavolo will have trouble grasping the game and how it works

You will have to explain many things to him

Good luck- he’s a bit of a boomer (but willing to learn) and may or may not get distracted staring at you

But anyways, he enjoys engaging in the competitions you and Levi have

Whether it be playing as well or simply watching

He just loves to see you happy

Barbatos

Oh my, what’s this?

Will watch you play

and constantly criticize how filthy the Dimitrescu castle is

“Do they have any idea how many rats this can attract?”

Barbatos, your weakness is showing.

Seeing you so happy while playing the game helps him relax from his daily troubles tasks

He rewards you with a pat on the head any time you beat a foe

When Diavolo goes over to the HoL or when you come over to play in he silently cheers you on in the background.

Solomon

Yuh

Is educated on the game and knows his shit as the only other human 

Maybe knows a bit too much of the game

You will later come to find out that, somewhere in his mass tangle of shady connections, he knows a developer

Might give you tips and tricks to get on higher levels

But never, and I mean never, challenge him like you would with Levi to see who can beat the game faster

Because he will beat you by a seconds on purpose, just to piss you of

all the while doing that dark, shady chuckle

Asshole

But anyways, if you manage to finesse and beat him, he will be 

So confused

“I thought I did it all right, what went wrong...?” he thinks to himself.

On the outside, however, he’s smiling

Will hand over some praise to his little apprentice, but if you look carefully you will see a spark of annoyance

We get it Solomon, you’re a sore loser.

In the end, he will still leave somewhat impressed at your skillz

Simeon

w h a t

Is a little scared

“Is this one of them video games you kids play nowadays...? Just kidding. What are you playing-- oh my”

Might try to figure out how to play

But alas, 

Simeon is yet another boomer

So he will have quite some trouble even figuring out how to move

And why does he hold the controller like that what

If you’ve seen that one picture of him holding his phone sideways you know what I mean

On another note, if you look through his poem book, then you may or may not find a few poems describing how amazing and badass you looked hustling the entire game

Luke

about to bomb this master hill

No literally is considering bombing the computer or whatever you’re playing on because wHAT IS THAT

He is just

So 

So 

Scared

This will give him nightmares for weeks

Apparently Alcina reminds him of Lucifer so he kinda

Hates her

Says he will protect you

--as he runs out of the room in fear

Irrelevant but the one he hates the most is fetus baby

Michael have mercy on this poor boy--

[bi-bi-buckleydiaz]

deep breath, do your job | owen joyner

requested; yes! - Could you do a Owen x reader where the reader is Owens personal assistant while filming JATP and while they are filming the reader starts catching feelings for Owen but Owen is in a relationship. Owen and his girlfriend breakup and the reader comes over to comfort Owen and Owen confesses that the reason him and his girlfriend broke up was because of the reader.

word count; 6.4K ... yeah kinda got away from me there. longest fic i’ve ever written

warnings; language, implied sexual content but no actual sex or description thereof

a/n; lol, so i just wrote from 1AM - 4AM because i’m procrastinating my child dev. project thats due today that’s worth a quarter of my grade. i really didn’t mean for this to be so long so it’s probably not this good and the ending is a lil’ rough, but oh well. hope whoever requested this likes it. i kinda do even though it’s long and only slightly proofread.

“Owen Patrick Joyner! Get your ass into hair and makeup before - oh, um, okay oops. Sorry ‘bout that. Should have knocked. I’ll just - yep, i’ll just go.” 

You thought he’d be sleeping. It’s nap time for him anyway, so he should’ve been sleeping. Instead, your technically boss and definite crush, was on his trailer couch with a girl you’ve never seen before. Kissing her. Without a shirt. Yeah, you definitely need to get out of there. 

You’re quick to close his door and begin to walk back to the hair and makeup trailer to tell them Owen will be a minute. 

“Y/N! Hey! Wait up! It’s um, it’s not, well it is, but -” He grabs your arm, causing you to turn around and face him, which, big mistake. Abort. Abort. Turn around. His post make out face is something you did not want to see. Liar.  

“It’s fine Owen. What you do in your free time is not my, well, actually it is since i’m your PA, I just mean who - WHAT, what you do in your personal time, in your trailer, is not my concern. Just, you’re needed in hair and makeup like, an hour ago. So, yeah, just, get there.” You stumble over half your words and watch his face fall as you near the end of your spiel. When he lets go of your arm you’re quick to turn around and leave him alone, walking right past hair and makeup and to set where you can curl up in your chair and eat your weight in brownies, if Madi hasn’t taken them all that is. You hope he goes to get his hair done. You know you should walk with him there because if you’re not practically dragging him to where he needs to go he never gets there on time, as just witnessed. But it’s usually because he’s goofing off with Charlie, not sucking face with a random girl. 

You don’t notice the brownie in your hand has crumbled until a whistle comes from behind you. You turn around a little too quickly, sending the brownie bits flying to the floor. 

“Shit.” You kneel down to begin picking it up, another hand coming into help. Charlie, based on the rings adorning the fingers. 

“Is Owen’s keeper okay?” You huff a laugh at the name the cast gave you a week into filming. You’re the only one who has managed to keep Owen in line since filming started, the only reason he’s ever on time for anything or actually has real food in the apartment or has his drumsticks when needed, etc. etc. 

The boys didn’t want PA’s when Kenny proposed it during bootcamp, they were young adults, they didn't want to boss someone around, it felt wrong. But having more experience than the boys, Kenny vetoed how they felt and told them PA’s would help tremendously, especially on a project like this. That’s where you came in. You were trying to get into the directing and producing scene in Hollywood, you’re dream to be as good a director as Steven Spielberg or, well, Kenny Ortega. But you knew you had to start small, so you applied for a PA job on an upcoming Netflix show, getting hired within the week. Now here you are, a nineteen year old being in charge of another nineteen year old who acts more like he’s five. 

In the beginning, it was purely professional. You were nothing more than his PA who got him from place A to place B in a timely fashion. But then he started to rope you into pranks with the rest of the band. He started inviting you to movie nights, and adventures to the grocery store, and ice skating with Charlie and Madi, and somewhere between helping him keep his life in order and watching him fall on his ass at the ice rink, you fell for the blonde. You know it’s a mistake, falling for him. You work for him. He’s your friend. That’s all he sees you as, but you couldn’t help it. But you’re good at compartmentalizing, so you took all the inappropriate feelings, shoved them in a box, locked the box, and hid it deep in your unconscious. You were doing well with ignoring the box, until you walked in on Owen kissing someone that wasn’t you. 

“I’m fine Charlie, just, stressed. Owen was an hour late to hair and makeup so I kinda feel like a shit PA right now.” Charlie chuckles and hugs you as you both stand up. 

“Please Y/N, you’re the best PA. If it weren’t for you, Owen would never know where anything is, including his head.” You laugh into his shoulder, reveling in the hug for a few more seconds. When you part, you see a flash of blonde enter the set and sigh in relief. He made it. He’s ready. You’re not fired today. 

Just incredibly confused and upset. 

But not fired.

“You better go, I know you’re in this scene with Owen.” Charlie nods and squeezes your shoulder once before running after Owen onto the set that holds Julie’s shed. Taking a deep breath, you try to push whatever the hell you saw ten minutes ago into your box, and get ready for the day ahead. 

Four hours, six brownies, and two cookies later, Owen is officially wrapped for the day, meaning you can go home and continue to eat your feelings in ice cream. You’re quick to grab your binder full of Owen’s schedules to drop tomorrow’s off at his trailer before he sees you. You’re not really in the mood to talk to him about what happened earlier, so you fast walk to his trailer, fully intent on just leaving the paper on his counter where he’ll see it, but a brown haired, green eyed girl throws that plan right out the window. 

You’re so stupid. You should’ve known she would still be here. Waiting. 

“Oh, um, hi.” She says. She sounds nice. She looks nice. But when you look at her all you can see is her hands in Owen’s hair and his lips on hers. 

“Hi.” You don’t know how, but you managed to put on a smile and put a little pep into your voice. “I’m Ashley. I’m waiting for Owen. Is he done?” You nod, not trusting your voice as you stand awkwardly in the doorway, one foot on the step the other in the trailer, hand outstretched ready to place the schedule on the table. 

“He just wrapped for the day. Should be here in a few.” The girl - Ashley - nods. 

“You’re Y/N, right? His personal assistant?” How does she know that. She giggles, “He talks about you all the time. Says the only reason he’s not fired or dead in a ditch is because of you.” OH, you said that aloud. Coolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoo-

“Y/N! What are ya doing just standing in the doorway?” Fuck. You put a smile on and turn around. He’s smiling softly at you, still in Alex’s clothes, twirling those damn drumsticks around his fingers. 

“Um, just dropping tomorrow’s schedule off. Here. Okay...bye.” You walk down the steps, letting the door shut behind you, fully intent on leaving, but Owen grabs your arm again, just like earlier, causing you to stop and turn to look at him. 

“Wait. Can we talk real quick. About...earlier?” No. No absolutely not. 

“Um, I really have to go. I have a lot to do tonight for tomorrow.” Owen sighs and lets go of your arm, face contorting into that of a sad puppy. 

“Just, one minute Y/N. Please. Let me explain.” Screw him and his perfect freaking face. 

“A minute.” His face lights up and grabs your hand, leading you back into his trailer, smiling even wider at seeing Ashley sitting pretty on the couch. 

“Y/N, this is Ashley, my girlfriend.” Ashley smiles and waves, standing up to stand by Owen and grab his hand. A rock settles in your chest at the word. 

Girlfriend. 

Girlfriend. 

Girlfriend. 

“Nice. I’m Y/N. But you knew that. Just like you also know I’m in charge of getting him to places on time. Which didn't happen today.” Owen’s face flushes at that while Ashley terribly hides a smirk behind her hand. 

“Uh, yeah, sorry about that Y/N. She surprised me today. We weren’t supposed to see each other until Thanksgiving but she finished classes early and flew out to surprise me. Kinda got, caught up in -” His face is beat red so you’re quick to cut him off. 

“It’s fine. Just, try not to get ‘caught up’ tomorrow, yeah?” It’s harsh and full of hostility, but you want to leave, the word still bouncing around in your head, swirling around the scene you walked into earlier. 

Girlfriend. 

Kissing. 

Girlfriend. 

Flushed face. 

Girlfriend. 

Kissing. 

“I have to go. See you tomorrow on set at 5 Am. Got it? Five A M. Don’t make me break into your apartment again. I almost got arrested for that.” Owen is still reeling from your harsh words said a second ago to laugh at the memory. Ashley however, has no qualms about speaking up. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he’s here on time.” She smiles and wraps around his arm like a koala. You hold back a scoff, throwing up a fake smile before turning and leaving. 

Girlfriend. 

Girlfriend. 

Girlfriend. 

It’s almost midnight.

It’s 11:48 PM and someone is knocking on your door. 

Who the fuck is pounding on your door at near midnight. 

You shuffle to the door wrapped up in your comforter, wiping the sleep out of your eyes. You don’t bother looking through the peephole, too angry at the person behind the door to bother, just wanting to yell at them and get back to bed. 

“What the - Charlie?” He looks exhausted, hair ruffled and eyes puffy. He’s in joggers, a random band tee and his denim jacket. You’re pretty sure his shoes are on the wrong feet. 

“Can I stay the night?” He doesn’t wait for your response before walking into your apartment, flinging his shoes and jacket off and walking to your room. You sigh, ignoring the way he just threw his stuff around and instead follow him to your room before he takes your side of the bed. You walk in just as he chucks his shirt off and woah. You were so not expecting that. An explanation as to why he’s here at midnight? Yeah. Him taking your side of the bed? Definitely. But not Charlie taking his shirt off and crawling onto the right side of the bed and curling around a pillow. You take a moment to collect yourself and your thoughts before crawling into bed next to him, making sure to drape the comforter over him as well. He hums in content and turns around to face you. 

“Sorry for barging in like this. Just, ugh, Owen and that girl are not quiet if you catch my drift.” And it’s like the rock in your heart is now a boulder and it’s crushing your ribcage. You can’t breathe. You can’t think. You’re frozen, staring at Charlie’s half asleep face. “Like I get it, you’ve missed each other. But c’mon bro I’m there too.” He keeps talking. Keeps pushing the boulder until all the ribs crack and puncture your lungs. “There’s somethings in this world I never wanted to hear, and Owen moaning was one of them.” He won’t shut up. Charlie shut up. You’re entire chest is fracturing, breaking at his words and he needs to shut. up.

“I didn’t really know where else to go, but I remembered how comfy your bed was last movie night so, here I am.” His voice is raspy, words slurring as he’s trying to fight sleep to explain to you why he’s here. But you can’t focus on him right now. Can’t think about a shirtless Charlie in your bed. There’s only one thing you can think about right now. 

Girlfriend. 

Shirtless. 

Girlfriend. 

Kissing. 

Girlfriend. 

“Thanks for letting me crash by the way. I’ll try not to kick you in my sleep.” He chuckles, then finally opens his eyes when you don’t laugh back. You don’t know how you look right now. You know you’re frozen. But is the panic and pure sadness showing on your face? It must be, because suddenly Charlie is wide awake and leaning up on his elbow to look at you fully. “Y/N are you okay?” He’s worried. You want to tell him you’re okay. It’s fine. Everything is fine. But you can’t move. You can’t talk. Because reality is crushing you. It’s ripping up your heart, suffocating you, consuming your mind. 

Owen isn’t yours. 

Owen will never be yours. 

You’re just a friend. 

You’re just his PA. 

That’s when the tears finally start. They come slowly, one trailing down your cheek, then another. Then all at once your sobbing into Charlie’s chest, no doubt getting snot all over him. But he doesn’t seem to care. He just starts to hum some random song while he repeatedly runs his hand over your hair, the other holding you close to him. He keeps humming, his chest vibrating and giving you something to focus on that isn’t your depressing thoughts. It’s almost soothing, the petting and the hug and the humming. 

You don’t know how long you sob into him, but when you stop, his humming stops too. He still holds you close, just lets go of your head so you can lean back a little and look up at him. He’s brows furrow in concern and he pouts at your post-crying face. 

“Are you okay? Am I really that bad of company?” He tries for funny but you can’t bring yourself to laugh with him. Just pout and push his semi-wet chest. “Seriously Y/N, i’ve never seen you like this. What’s wrong?” Those two words. 

What’s wrong?

What’s wrong? I fell for my boss and now he’s doing it with some girl and I can’t stop thinking about them and it’s killing me because before I could live with being his friend and PA because at least there was some sliver of a chance but now there’s nothing because he has someone and I have no one and I can’t breathe because oh my god I love him. I love that stupid fool and i’m nothing but his personal assistant. 

It’s quiet for a minute, too quiet, and that’s when you realize you said all that out loud. You look up at Charlie, which was a mistake because his face is full of pity. It’s all sad puppy eyes and “Shit Y/N i’m so sorry.” A fresh wave of tears make their way out of your eyes, but Charlie is quick to wipe them away. 

“Y/N I didn’t know I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have said all of that, God I was so stupid.” And then it’s like a whole new flood gate opens, this one full of laughter though. You start with a chuckle, but soon it’s full out belly laughing. Because Charlie isn’t the stupid one here. “I’m the stupid one. I mean, how idiotic does a PA have to be to fall for the one they’re in charge of? Never mix work with pleasure. It’s PA-ing 101, don’t fall for your boss. I’m so fucking stupid to ever fall for him or think he’d like me back because i’m just his stupid PA who has no talent what so ever, never has a good hair day, can’t go a day without eating their weight in sugar, and will never see him again after filming is wrapped.” Your laughing dies down by the end, and then ends completely when you see the look on Charlie’s face. It’s not exactly pity, but it’s not exactly sadness either. It’s hard to describe what exactly it is, but it’s not good. 

“Y/N. Babes. I don’t ever want to hear you talk about yourself like that again, okay? I swear to God next time I hear anything like that come out of your mouth again, I’m hitting you with a pillow.” You giggle, but he stays serious. “Dead ass Y/N. Listen, was it probably not the smartest to fall for Owen? Yeah. But you didn’t know he had someone. I didn’t even know he had a girl and I’m his roommate. But, we can’t help who we like. It’s all brain chemistry and heart palpitations and whatever else. It’s something we can’t control. So don’t say you’re stupid because of something you can’t control.” 

“You’re being really smart and caring for twelve am.” You both chuckle, a real smile gracing your face for once in the past twelve hours. 

“I’m sorry for the breakdown it’s just, there’s a lot in my head right now and what you said really didn’t help.” Charlie sighs and pulls you in close. 

“I’m sorry babes. You should’ve slapped me or something.” 

“I probably would’ve had the breakdown at some point tonight anyway.” Charlie pulls back a bit to look at you, confusion on his face. “I kinda walked in on them making out earlier when Owen was late to hair and makeup.” 

“Is that why you crushed that brownie earlier?” You sigh and nod. 

“Y/N, i’m sorry. I’m so sorry you have to go through this.” 

“It’s fine Charlie. It’s, well, it’s not but, I’ll get over it. I’m a big girl. Besides, I have you to get my tears and snot all over right?” He groans while you giggle, but he isn’t really mad if the way he pulls you close and rests his face in your hair is any indication. 

“Always babes.” 

The next day you drive to set with Charlie who didn’t have to be on set at five like Owen, but joined you nonetheless. Taking his duty as your new ‘heartguard’ as he called it last night, you walk to hair and makeup with his arm around your shoulders. It’s comforting, even though he’s putting most of his weight on you because he’s exhausted, the coffee you gave him this morning clearly doing nothing to wake up. 

“Charlie, you could’ve stayed in bed until you were actually needed.��� You laugh as he trips up the steps to the trailer, nearly face planting if it weren’t for you wrapping your arms around his waist last minute. 

“Char you good?” You hear BooBoo ask. Charlie grumbles something incoherent and shoves his face into your neck as you lean against the arm of the couch. BooBoo laughs, so do you, but quickly sober up when Owen walks in, Ashley on his arm. Charlie must have ESP or something because, without looking up at who walked in, he wraps his arms around your waist and murmurs in your ear, “Deep breaths. I’m here.” You do as he says, shooting Owen a friendly smile, but dropping it as he frowns at you. 

What is that about? 

“Glad to see you on time Owen. I wouldn’t have been able to break in this morning anyway because an octopus decided to break into my own apartment last night.” You ruffle Charlie’s hair as you say that and he grumbles some more, playfully biting your neck as well. “Ow. Asshole.” Owen frowns even deeper at that, while BooBoo chuckles. He get’s scolded a second later for moving. 

“So that’s where you disappeared to last night. I was wondering why you weren’t home this morning.” Owen’s voice is tight while he says it, Ashley noticing as well if the tightened grip on his arm is anything to go by. Charlie squeezes your waist as a way to say, ‘prepare yourself’ before he moves his head to lean against your shoulder so he can talk. 

“Yeah well, I wouldn’t have had to if you and your girl weren’t so freaking loud.” You tense up, mind starting to reel again, but a squeeze to your waist and a warm breath on your neck manages to bring you back. The trailer goes quiet, even the hair and makeup ladies tensing up and sensing the tension. Charlie, ever the wrong place, wrong time type of guy, grabs your hand and places it on his hair, then moves it back and forth. 

“Pet me.” Despite the tension in the room, you can’t help but giggle at the stupid Canadian boy wrapped around you. Apparently that’s all the rest of the people in the trailer needed to go back to what they were doing. That or they just didn’t want to get involved in young adult drama. You shoot a look at Owen, his jaw tense and hands clenched into fists. Completely ignoring the way Ashley leans up to kiss Owen’s neck, you open your phone and begin to read off his schedule for the day, your left hand still running through Charlie’s hair. 

“Hair and makeup at five AM, sit your butt down and let Shelly do her thing, costume fitting right after. First scene at six-thirty with BooBoo, you guys are doing the scene at the Orpheum where you talk about what’s been going on, you’re going to be sad so this whole frowny face you got going on? Keep it. A break after that then rehearsal with Charlie, Jer, and Mads for Stand Tall. Fitting for the Stand Tall suit is after that, but no actual filming for that scene yet, just getting the measures right so after that, you’re done for the day.” You take a deep breath after all that, BooBoo whistling at you from his seat. 

“You could be an auctioneer with how fast you talk.” You smile and bow your head at him.

“I’ll take that as a compliment Boo.” He shoots you a smile and then raises his hand to high five Owen as he sits next to him. Owen ignores him. In fact, he stays silent throughout all of getting his hair and makeup done. Only smiling occasionally when Ashley shows him a meme on her phone. You watch them, the boulder in your chest rolling around as you do so. But not for jealousy, no, for concern. Owen is acting very unlike himself. You may be upset right now, especially with him, but it doesn’t mean you still don’t see him as a friend; still don’t worry about him. Something is wrong, and you can’t help but feel like it’s your fault. 

“So did it work?” You jump in surprise at the voice behind you, the cookie in your hand crumbling and falling onto the table. 

“Charlie! What did I say about sneaking up on me?” You turn to look at the boy who is smiling too wide at you for you to think this is about to be a completely innocent conversation. 

“Did it work?” He’s practically vibrating where he stands.

“Did what work?” 

“The cuddling this morning? Didn’t you see Owen? He was totally jealous.” And - what? That’s why he was so touchy this morning? 

“I just thought you were tired, that was - you were trying to make Owen jealous? Charlie what the hell? He has a girlfriend!” Charlie rolls his eyes and loops his arm around yours, dragging you away from the cookies and towards the costume room. 

“Yeah, but we both know she shouldn’t be. And the way he was acting this morning? I think he’s starting to realize that too.” There’s no way...right? No, the way Charlie described last night...no. 

“No, okay, he was probably just tired and angry about having to be here so early.” Yeah, that’s it. He was not jealous of the friendly cuddling you and Charlie were doing. Totally...not. Holy shit. You hear Charlie giggling in your ear as you enter costume. 

There, in front of you, is a very shirtless, very toned, very pretty Owen Joyner.

“You’re welcome.” Then Charlie is off to God knows where. Leaving you alone with Owen. Well, not really alone since Soyon is here too, running around looking for different fabrics and textures to throw on Owen. A still very shirtless Owen. 

“Oh, hi Y/N. What are you doing here?” Owen asks, looking at you though the floor length mirror in front of him. He’s not smiling at you, but he’s not frowning either, so improvement from this morning. 

“Oh, um, just making sure you got here on time. And look at that. You did! Good job.” You clap, who knows why, but it makes Owen laugh, which, whew, okay. 

“Yeah, I reminded him.” A voice behind you says. You turn and look at Ashley walking in, coffee cup in hand. She bounces up to Owen, ignoring Soyon and placing a big, wet kiss onto his lips before moving to the couch off to the side. Owen seems shocked by the PDA, which makes sense, you know he’s not big on that, remembering one late night conversation you both had a few weeks ago. 

“Anyway, Y/N, how does this one looks. I think the ruffles are nice. And then when he’s performing Stand Tall we can,” and then she begins to unbutton the shirt all the way down to mid chest and okay, seriously Soyon, now you just want to torture me. 

“I like this.” Owen says, twirling in the mirror like a ballerina. This causes the shirt to fling open more, showing his chest more in the process.

Deep breaths. 

Be a friend. 

You’re a big girl. 

“Yeah. It’s good,” you say, walking over to him to tuck to the sides back together somewhat. “Are you going to keep with the pink theme for the jacket?” Soyon smiles and nods, walking away for a minute leaving you alone with Owen and Ashley. 

“Should it really be unbuttoned that much? I mean, it is a kids show? I don’t want to share my boy with fangirls.” Ashley says. You can’t stop your eyes from rolling or the scoff that leaves your mouth. You watch Owen’s Adam's apple bob as he gulps. 

“Please, Charlie is sleeveless for a majority of the show. Owen showing a little chest isn’t gonna hurt anyone. Besides, Soyon chose good. The way the shirt fits and settles it’s never going to open all the way. Unless, ya know, he twirls like some Carolynn Rowland wannabe.” You smile up at Owen and inhale sharply when you see he’s already looking down at you. “And with the jacket on it’ll stay put pretty well.” You’re still holding the shirt in your hands, looking at Owen’s face as you talk. For a second, it’s just you and him, looking at each other, smiling. Then Soyon comes back and clears her throat. The trance breaks and you back up. You wipe your sweaty hands on your jeans before backing up and standing next to the mirror. You feel eyes on you and look over to see Ashely glaring at you. 

“Here we go. One pink jacket to match.” Owen slides it on and smiles wide. You have to say, it looks good. Professionally speaking of course. 

“Soyon, have I ever said how freaking amazing you are. I mean, this is really good looking. Very Alex.” Owen praises. He’s smiling and it’s a nice sight after this mornings debacle. 

“Alex is going to be the best looking one on that stage.” Owen looks over at you, his smile still there, and the boulder shrinks three sizes. 

“Still think the shirt should be buttoned.” Ashley mutters. But everyone ignores her, even Owen, who does another twirl in front of the mirror. 

“Well then, you’re all set Owen. Go ahead and change and I’ll see you tomorrow.” Soyon leaves, going off to do costume designer things, leaving you alone with Owen and Ashley again. Owen takes the jacket off, then looks around not knowing what to do with it. You sigh and smile softly, taking it from him.

“Here, just give me all the clothes and i’ll take them back to your rack.” He smiles thankfully at you, before frowning again and looking down at his outfit. Getting what he’s thinking, you chuckle and cross your arms. “Bub I just saw you shirtless it’s not a big deal. Now c’mon, give me the clothes before Soyon thinks you’re stealing them.” Owen looks up at you in a way you’ve never seen him look at you before. It makes you take a sharp breath in.

“Maybe you should go. I can give the clothes to Soyon. Don’t you have assistant duties to do?” Ashley is right next to you as she says it. It makes your ears hurt and hands clench. You’re quick to unclench though, not wanting to wrinkle the nice pink jacket. Ashley moves forward to unbutton Owen’s shirt all the way, but he grabs her hand before she can begin. 

“Actually I need Y/N to stay. I have to talk to her about some, ya know, assistant stuff. And besides, she knows where Alex’s rack is and that’s where the clothes have to go. Why don’t you go wait for me in the trailer, I’ll be there in a few.” 

I need Y/N to stay. 

That shouldn’t make you feel as warm and tingly as it does. 

Ashley scoffs and looks away, clearly trying to guilt trip him. Owen sighs and kisses her cheek.  

“Trailer. Ten minutes.” Ashley sighs before nodding and finally leaving. He watches her go, then turns back to you when she finally disappears. You clear your throat and he looks back at you, face a bit red. 

“Um, hey.” You chuckle. 

“Hi.” He nods, and you sigh, walking so you’re right in front of him. “Seriously, O, you need to get this off because if they’re not on the rack for Soyon to fix up by the end of the day it’s my head on a stick, not yours.” Then you’re unbuttoning his shirt. 

You’re unbuttoning. His shirt. You don’t realize you’re doing it until you hand grazes his navel when you untuck it from his pants. You hear him suck in a breath and you immediately take two steps back. 

“Sorry, um. Sorry that was not, um, -” 

“It’s okay. You were just, doing your job. Making sure I get stuff done on time, right?” But his voice is wobbly as he says it and his face is as red as a tomato. You couldn’t have made him that flushed, not you? 

“Right. Yeah. Um, so, pants?” Owen looks at you with wide eyes. “I need to take the pants back too.” It’s quiet, but you know he heard you because he nods his head and begins to unbutton them. You suddenly feel very hot, very suffocated. You should’ve left when you had the chance, just let Ashley do this. You shouldn’t be here, watching as he pulls the velvet pants down his legs. Watching as he steps out of them and - oh God he’s falling. You grab his hand to help him but it’s too late, you both tumble to the ground. You’re on top of him, smushed up against his bare chest, faces centimeters apart, sharing breaths. 

“Sorry.” You mumble. You watch him gulp and look down. Down at wha - oh. 

“It’s, it’s okay. I’m the one that fell and pulled you down.” You nod, causing your nose to brush against his. You’re close, so freaking close that if you were to move not even a full centimeter, your lips would touch.

So. 

Close. 

“What. The. Hell!” SHit. Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

You’re quick to scramble away from Owen, butt scooting across the floor to get as far away from him as possible. Owen jumps up, kicking the pants away then realizing that was probably not a smart idea because now he’s half naked in between Ashley and you.  

“Ash I -” 

“You were taking forever, wanted to know why. Thought you said there was nothing between you two?” She’s practically screeching. You know within minutes there will be a crowd. A crowd Owen will not want, his anxiety will not want. Ignoring his stuttering and the conversation in general, you push away the heat in your belly and the tingling in your spine and take a deep breath. 

Deep breath. 

Be a friend. Do your job.

You grab Owen’s clothes and put them in his hands, ignoring his speaking and Ashley ranting, you grab his hand and then hers, and shove them towards the back exit. 

“This is a trailer conversation, not a wardrobe fitting conversation. Leave, now.” 

“No, I have a lot to say -” 

“Listen to me, I’m trying to do my job and not get Owen in trouble. If you really care about him, you’ll take this conversation to his trailer. Now.” Then you shove them out the door before Ashley could screech some more. 

Deep breath. 

Do your job. 

You go back to the fitting area, only to see Charlie, Jer, and Madi standing there, looking confused. 

Deep breath.

Do your job.

“Hey guys. Owen just left. He and Ashley are having a date night.” Charlie gives you a look, but Jer and Madi nod, going to accept it, but Charlie has to open his big dumb Canadian mouth. 

“Why’d we hear screaming then?” Charlie questions. Jer and Madi look at each other, then back at you. 

“Oh, uh, mouse. I saw a mouse. Yep. Mouse. Anyway, I have to get this clothes hung up before they wrinkle, so excuse me.” 

Deep breath. 

Do your job.

You walk around the trio, gathering the suit and shaking everything out as you walk over to the Alex rack to hang them up. You hear the door to the room open and two sets of feet walking out. 

“Charlie, everything is fine okay? Just a little misunderstanding.” 

“Like?” You sigh and turn around from finishing hanging up the clothes. 

“Like...Owen kinda fell and when I went to help him I feel too...on top of him.” There’s silence then, 

“OH MY GOD! Y/N THAT’S LIKE FANFIC SHIT THAT WAS THE MOMENT! DID YOU KISS OH MY GOD TELL ME EVERYTHING!” He’s jumping up and down as he makes his way to you. 

“Ashley walked in.” All excitement stops.

“Oh shit.” You nod, walking past him to settle on the couch, pulling a pillow to your chest. 

“Yeah. And she started screeching and I knew Owen wouldn’t like to attention so I shoved them out the back door to his trailer.” Charlie’s arm goes around you, pulling you close. He goes to say something, but your phone ringing indicating a text from Owen stops him. You pull it out, opening it as Charlie watches over your shoulder. 

My trailer plz. 

Charlie starts shaking your shoulders, smiling like a maniac. “This is your chance Y/N go go GO!” you shake your head at Charlie’s antics, but leave nonetheless. 

Anxiety creeps up on you as you get closer and closer to his trailers, not knowing what you’re going to walk into. Him firing you? Saying you can’t be friends anymore? Ashley ready to claw your face off? 

Deep breath.

Be a friend.

You knock on his door. It opens a second later to a frantic looking Owen. Now you're anxious about him. Why does he look upset? Is he okay? He grabs your hand and pulls you into his, oh, empty trailer. Ashley is nowhere to be seen. 

“Hey, thanks for coming.” You nod, still looking around expecting her to jump out and slap you. “Um, sit. Sit, I have to talk to you about something.” You go to sit on the couch, but then remember what occurred there yesterday and instead lean against the counter. He notices but doesn’t say anything. 

“Yeah okay. What’s up?” You try to act nonchalant, but the anxiety is too high for that. ‘I have to talk to you about something’ never ends well. He walks over and sits on the bed pats the spot next to him. God, this can’t be a good conversation if he really wants you to sit. 

“Ashley and I were never...on here.” He mumbles. You walk over and sit next to him, blushing that he caught on to why you didn’t sit on the couch. 

“Must be serious if you need me to sit.” Owen takes a deep breath, another, another, and then there’s lips on your. They’re soft and nice and taste like carmex chapstick. 

“Mhm, Owen, what, what are you doing?” Your faces are still close together, both of you not wanting to back away yet. 

“I’m gonna talk. Okay I’m gonna talk and I want you to listen and not crawl inside your head too soon okay?” You nod, knowing in this moment you’d do anything to keep him this close. 

“I knew Ashley from high school. She started texting me a few weeks back and one thing led to another and she was calling me her boyfriend. I didn’t want it but it happened and I let it because it got my mind off a girl I shouldn’t like because it would ruin so many things. I didn’t know she was coming to visit and when she knocked on my trailer she jumped me and just kept going. And I just went along with everything yesterday because I’m supposed to be her boyfriend and I’m supposed to think about those things with her and I’m supposed to want those things with her, but I don’t Y/N. I don’t want those things with her I never did. I, I want them with you. I’ve wanted them with you from the moment you finally stopped being shy around me and dragged me from crafts by my ear to hair and makeup. You’re so amazing Y/N and I thought if I did anything I’d ruin this and ruin your career and I didn’t want that. I never wanted that so I went along with Ashley but I shouldn’t have because the whole time I was thinking about you. It’s always been -” You kiss him. You grab him by the cheeks and kiss him. It’s a passionate kiss, an ‘about time’ kiss, an ‘i’m never letting you go’ kiss. 

You only break away when you can’t breathe, and even then you only pull away enough to breath in each other’s air. 

“She left. She’s gone. She knew I was never 100% in.” You nod, but you’re not really listening. You can’t hear anything other than your heartbeat. 

He likes you. 

Owen likes you.

Owen kissed you. 

“It’s always been you, Y/N.” You smile. It’s a big one that you have to hamper down by biting your lip. Owen smiles back, then you’re kissing again. 

And again. 

And again.

[hizashis-lil-bunbun]

No Rest for the Wicked- HardDom!Dabi X Fem! Brat Reader

Prompt: Dabi just wants to take a nap but everything goes wrong

I asked a friend in one of my discord groups for a random writing prompt when I was up late. Something about this one activated my inner ✨brat✨

Enjoy!

Word Count: 3.3k

Kinks/Warnings: brat taming, degradation, pain play, spanking, belting, mild dacryphilia, bondage, edging and denial, hints of dubcon

Banner made by the always lovely @ladyshinigami!

••••••••••••••

Exhausted.

That was the best way to sum up Dabi’s mood as he trudged through the bar fronting the League’s headquarters. Shigaraki had sent him out on a mission with orders to “stake out and take out” a small band of up-and-coming heroes. It had been easy enough to find them (newbies can never resist being flashy), but making sure they were all disposed of was another matter. A matter only made more complicated by a few rogue civilians that happened to spot him. It had taken him two full days to track everyone down, leaving him covered in blood, soot, and burns. In short, Dabi needed a break.

“Well, well, well.” Came the nasally voice of their fearless leader, “The prodigal son returns! Took you long enough, Dabi. Hope that means you didn’t fuck up the mission.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist.” Dabi snaps back, too tired and sore to care about his tone. Not that he’d be any kinder to Shigaraki if he wasn’t. “I did what you asked and left no witnesses. Now piss off before I turn you into a smoldering pile.”

Shigaraki didn’t rise to Dabi’s bait, opting to simply flip him the bird before going back to whatever game console he was currently obsessed with. Dabi returns the gesture in kind, glowering as he disappears behind the bar and into the League’s living quarters. Their warehouse provides more than enough space for everyone to have their own room, and the boss even allowed them to decorate and furnish them as they pleased. Wasn’t that generous? Dabi plods down the hallway to his assigned room and kicks open the door only to find it was occupied. By you.

“Dabi?” You question for a moment before your eyes light up with excitement. “Dabi! You’re back!”

As a fellow Stain devotee, you’d sought out the LOV and been initiated as a member a mere six months ago. And two months later, you’d been initiated into Dabi’s bed. You wouldn’t exactly call yourselves “lovers.” Love was few and far between in a hornet’s nest of villains. But you’d certainly become something more than the occasional lay.

He grunts as he stalks into the room, shedding his coat and boots as he went. Dabi was never big on grand displays of affection. And in his current state, that small show of acknowledgment may as well have been equivalent to a bear hug.

“I missed you.” You chirp back, undeterred by his gruff response. “How was the mission?”

“Long and shitty.” Came his terse reply as he strips off the rest of his clothes and grabs a towel from a nearby wall hook. “I need a fucking shower.”

He wraps the towel around his waist before he sets about searching for body wash and a first aid kit. Greedy eyes roam the plane of his toned torso, eager to touch the scarred and stapled flesh you’d spent many a night mapping out. Before joining the League, you’d never had an opinion one way or the other on touch or physical intimacy. You didn’t dislike it by any means; it was just something people did, fuck buddies or otherwise. But now that you’d shared a bed with Dabi, your perspective had changed. His rough touch was your drug of choice, intoxicating in all the best ways. And with him being gone for almost 72 hours? It was safe to say you were jonesing for a hit.

“Oooh, sounds like fun.” You purr, sprawling out on the mattress in a catlike stretch. “Want me to join you? I think we could use a little… quality time together.”

He snorts derisively at that, straightening up once he’d found his supplies and fixing you with a deep scowl. So pretty even when he’s pissed. You bat your eyelashes in return.

“Don’t get cute, dollface. Once I get cleaned up I’m passing out for the next century.”

Before you can shoot off another coquettish remark, he turns on his heel and marches out the door in the direction of the communal showers. You huff and clamber out of bed to follow him, determined that he wouldn’t get away so easily.

“C’mon Dabi!” You whine, trotting along behind him as he stalks down the hallway. “I haven’t seen you in days! Are you really just gonna give me the cold shoulder?”

“Yup.” He snaps back, shooting you a harsh glare over said shoulder before barging through the bathroom door. From the other side you can hear his bark of “Move it, psycho!” followed by an indignant squeak from whom you can only assume to be Toga. You huff and stamp your foot like a petulant child, turning on your heel to flounce off in the direction of the League’s bar front.

“Bastard.” You seethe under your breath, “Who does he think he is, ignoring me like that? It’s his fault I’m so pent up. If I tried ignoring him when he was all hot and bothered–!”

You pause for a moment as a lightbulb goes off in your head. A single impish thought flashes through your mind and it causes your lips to curl into a Cheshire grin. He wants to play games? You’ll give him games.

You continue your trek into the dimly-lit, woodpandeled speakeasy, a renewed vigor in your stride as you make a beeline for the bar top. Kurogiri is standing behind it as per usual, wiping out a pint glass like the faithful bartender he pretends to be. You sidle up to the bar and place both hands on the oaken surface, adopting a sweet, too-innocent lilt to your voice.

“Kuro-baby.” You purr, the cutesy pet name causing the misty specter to look up from his task. “Can I have a glass of water, please? With lots of ice, if you don’t mind.”

Wordlessly, Kurogiri sets down the glass and picks up a shorter one, using it to scoop up a generous portion of ice from the freezer below before filling it nearly to the brim from the tap. If he has any suspicion of you, he’s very good at hiding it. The same can’t be said for Shigaraki, sitting a few stools down from you and still tapping away at the buttons of his console.

“Fucking with Staples again?” He questions disinterestedly, followed by a hiss of annoyance when the game lets out a series of gunshots. He must have gotten himself killed again.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You shoot back airily, swiping the glass from Kurogiri’s outstretched hand and hopping off your own barstool.

“It’s your funeral!” He calls after you, waving you off with one hand. You snicker as you march back into the living quarters, one hand wrapped around the chilled glass and the other flattened over the top to ensure you won’t spill a drop along the way. Soon you find yourself back in front of the bathroom door and, suppressing the urge to giggle, you slowly push through it and into the steamy room beyond. In spite of the hideout’s outward appearance, the place is surprisingly clean and well-kempt (all thanks to den mother Kurogiri). Two sinks stand against the left-hand side of the wall, with two doors opposite them leading to the toilets. Next to the sinks are the showers: three open-faced, tile cubes barely covered by flimsy plastic curtains. Toga is standing in front of the nearest sink, wearing a skimpy pair of Hello Kitty pajamas and washing the blood and goop from her latest transformation out of her navy, pleated skirt. She looks up at you when you enter and you quickly put one finger to your lips, smirking as you point between the glass and the running shower beyond. Toga lets loose a sadistic giggle of her own before hastily shushing herself when you hear Dabi’s bark of “Pipe down out there!”

As you move past her, you can see her mouth the words, “You’re so dead, big sis.”

You can feel a jolt of adrenaline course through your veins as you sneak up to the edge of the tiled wall separating the shower from the rest of the bathroom, the glass in your hand shaking briefly. A small amount of water sloshes over the rim and spatters onto the floor, the sound barely overshadowed by the shower.

“Doll?”

His low, rumbling voice coming from the other side of the curtain sends another shiver down your spine.

“What are you up to out there?” He growls dangerously, as if he has a sixth sense when it comes to you and your shenanigans. For just a moment, the rational part of your brain takes over and makes you question your actions. Dabi’s already in a foul mood, and getting worse by the second by the sound of it. Maybe if you hold off and behave like a good girl–

Your body seems to move of its own accord. The next thing you know, the contents of the glass are sailing through the air, arching high over the plastic curtain rod and landing with a messy splat onto your unwitting victim on the other side.

“What the fu–!” Dabi’s curse is cut off by yours and Toga’s mad giggling as you sprint out of the bathroom and down the hallway. Passing by a very confused-looking Spinner, you dart inside Dabi’s room and slam the door, locking it for good measure. Seconds later, he’s pounding on it, using enough force that you’re convinced it might splinter and break off its hinges.

“Open this door right now and make this easier on yourself!” He roars, furiously jiggling the handle.

You let him pound away for a few more seconds, in part to allow yourself time to catch your breath but mostly to delay the unenviable punishment. With a deep, steadying breath, you plaster on a mildly amused expression, undo the lock, and pull open the door. Dabi is visibly seething, water dripping from his hair and cascading in rivulets down his toned chest onto the towel slung low on his hips. His brows are knitted together in rage, turquoise eyes flashing dangerously while one hand is still raised in a fist.

“Oh hey, babe. Done with the shower al–?”

His hands are around your throat before you can blink, your sassy remark devolving into a high-pitched squeak.

“You little bitch.” He spits at you, forcibly backing you further into the room as he advances. “Was that your idea of a joke?”

“N-no.” You gasp in response, voice slightly raspy from the pressure on your jugular. “I just thought–“

“Thought what exactly?” Dabi growls, kicking the door shut behind him with one foot before giving your shoulders a hard shove and pushing you onto the bed. You land with a slight bounce, the momentum giving you just enough time to prop yourself up on your elbows.

“Well?” He hisses, venom dripping from the word as he glares down at you.

“I was worried.” You start slowly, tone almost loving as you gaze up at him with big, doe eyes. “You seemed so tense when you got back. And don’t think I didn’t notice those new burns on your arms. So I thought, since the mission was so hard on you…”

Your face suddenly splits into a shit-eating grin.

“I thought you might need to cool down for a minute.”

Dabi blinks for a second, seemingly struck dumb by your remark. And then his hands are back on you in an instant, roughly flipping you over to lie chest-down with your legs hanging off the edge of the bed.

“Of all the stupid–“

Your shirt is ripped over your head from behind.

“Immature–“

There goes the bra, clasps and straps lost to a wildfire of blue flames as it falls away from your body in a charred heap.

“Bratty little schemes.”

Your leggings and panties are harshly yanked down, slipped off, and discarded into some unknown corner of the room. You feel cool air hit your legs and backside, moments before a harsh slap lands on your right cheek. With a yelp, you cast a wide-eyed glance over your shoulder at the menacing presence behind you; a pillar of rage and sadistic urges looming over your naked form.

“You wanted my attention that badly, dollface? Well I’m sorry to say you’ve got it now.”

Before you can react beyond a pained, needy whimper, Dabi hooks his right arm under your thighs to haul you up and onto the bed. He lays his full weight across your back and reaches around and underneath the farthest edge of the bed to produce a simple, black cuff, attached to the nylon spreader running along the underside of the mattress. Giving it a few cursory tugs, he grabs ahold of your right wrist and yanks it towards the corresponding corner, attaching the device with practiced speed and precision. You continue to writhe and pant below him, muttering a litany of curses and “no’s” as he does the same to the opposite side. You’re now bound by both wrists, unable to do more than thrash wildly on the mattress in a humiliating, spread eagle position.

“Seems like you need a reminder of who’s in charge around here.” He snarls in your ear, pushing himself off of you and marching over to his discarded pile of clothing. You can hear the soft rustle of fabric, followed by the telltale clink of metal on metal that makes your eyes go wide.

“Y-you wouldn’t dare…” You start breathlessly, just before the first blinding sting of leather greets your exposed skin, right at the juncture where the soft swell of your ass meets the tender flesh of your thighs.

“That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart.” Dabi says mockingly, his tone dripping with false pity and saccharine sweetness as he takes his place at the edge of the bed once more. “I don’t have any problems dealing with a mouthy… little… brat like you.”

His words are punctuated by three more vicious blows, this time striking the meatiest part of your ass and sending the pliant flesh jiggling. The metal rivets in his belt only add to the pain, biting into your rapidly heating flesh and causing tears to prick at the corners of your eyes. Shifting your hips in a futile attempt to get away from Dabi and his newfound torture device, you roll partly onto your side and look over at him with watery, pleading eyes.

“S-sir… Dabi, please!” You sputter out, voice already wavering as your resolve crumbles beneath the stinging sensation. But Dabi’s not in the mood for bargaining. Instead, he growls as he wraps an arm around your waist and shoves his left knee underneath your belly, hiking your ass further into the air.

“Hold still!” He barks at you, another crack of his belt sending a fresh wave of searing pain along your already raw skin. You scream in agony, unable to do more than wriggle and squirm against his hold.

“Start counting, brat.” He demands huskily, your only warning before the next punishing spank meets your burning flesh.

“One!” You gasp out, “I’m sorry! Please–!”

Another blow lands, somehow harder than all the others, revisiting the spot where ass and thigh meet and causing you to wail in pain.

“Too late for apologies, dollface. The only thing I wanna hear from that slutty little mouth is counting. Understand me?”

The arm looped around your waist tightens in warning, and you hiccup before sputtering out a shaky, “T-two.”

“That’s more like it.”

He continues spanking you at a steady pace, the only respite coming when he pauses to hear you choke out the next number. By ten strokes, you’re bawling. By fifteen, you’re practically brain dead, unable to quell the sobs that wrack through your body or think beyond the next count. He mercifully stops at twenty, dropping the belt and loosening his own grip on you. All you can focus on is the burning pain radiating out from your tanned backside, sobbing as you bury your face into the pillow below you for comfort. Dabi’s own breathing is heavy and ragged, and he takes a few deep, measured breaths to steady himself. After a few moments, that hand that once held his belt is carefully laid on the curve of your ass, and you gasp both at the gentle touch and the shock of prickly pain it brings. Judging by the way he strokes the heated flesh, you’re sure the silver eyelets have left a series of bruises behind.

“S-s-sir.” You blubber, “I’m... I…”

“Shhhh, quiet down.” He says softly, voice uncharacteristically tender as he runs his hand along the width of your heated cheeks. “It’s over now. You did so well.”

The unexpected praise makes you whimper beneath his affections, devolving into a quiet moan as his hand travels even lower, fingers coming to rest at the entrance to your heated core. He begins to gently massage at your folds, middle finger slipping inside to find you impossibly wet and clenching around the digit.

“You filthy little thing…” He breathes out on a chuckle, “Are you really that turned on by me beating the hell out of your cute little ass?”

His finger delves deeper, pussy eagerly sucking him in as you keen below him. His free hand begins to lightly scratch up and down your back, goosebumps rising in the wake of each careful caress. Without thinking, you shift further onto your knees, fighting through the pain to push against his hand.

“Please, Sir.” You moan wantonly, “More. Please.”

With another dark chuckle, Dabi slips a second finger inside of you and begins to languidly pump them in and out. Pain and pleasure meld together in a sinful symphony, pants and whimpers coming from you as you rock your abused body against his own scarred flesh. He adjusts the angle and crooks his fingers downwards, curling them just shy of that sensitive bundle of nerves you know would have you seeing stars. Your back arches as you hungrily push against him, dignity forgotten in the face of pure, carnal desire.

“Getting impatient, are we?” He growls teasingly, fingers suddenly slipping out from your sopping core and wrenching a high-pitched whine from the back of your throat. He moves off the bed entirely, ordering you to stay put as he walks over to the nearby dresser and opens up the top drawer. Like the cuffs would allow you to do anything otherwise.

“Ah, here we go.” He says after a few seconds of rummaging, striding back over to the bed and taking up residence behind you. You feel the mattress dip under his weight seconds before his hands find your hips, roughly hauling them upwards and forcing your face further into the pillows. You shriek as he grabs ahold of your left cheek and squeezes harshly, pain shooting up your spine like a bolt of summer lightning. Something hard and cool prods at your quivering entrance, briefly brushing against your clit before being plunged inside of you. The sudden stretch feels at once too much and deeply satiating, sending burning, pleasurable heat licking across your oversensitized nerves. Once the toy is sunk to the hilt, Dabi gives a short grunt of satisfaction before sliding off the bed and circling around to lean over your quivering form. You turn your head to face him and he smirks at the sight of your fucked out expression: eyes red and puffy, cheeks streaked with half-dried tears, lips swollen from the bluntness of your own teeth.

“Aren’t you a sight?” He hums lowly, brushing away an errant strand of hair to plant a condescending kiss to your temple. “Such a needy little slut for me.”

With another dark chuckle, Dabi pats your cheek, straightens up, and turns towards the door.

“Wait!” You squeak out, squirming against your restraints as you watch his retreating back. “You’re just gonna leave me like this?”

“That’s the plan, dollface.” He shoots back, casting you a wicked grin over his left shoulder as he pulls the door open. “At least until I finish my shower.”

[lokislittlesigyn]

Wake Me - Loki x Reader [Oneshot]

[My masterlist, where this and my other fics can be found]

Pairing: Loki / gender neutral reader

Warnings: Angst. But fear not, for fluff awaits!

Author’s Note: I have legitimately no idea if I’ll write more Loki x Reader; I never intended to write any because I don’t know the reader so I can’t characterize the reader but then I had a headcanon.. And then I had an idea...

And then I wrote this and I thought “hmm, I should challenge myself to do a New Thing?” and then this happened. Blame Loki, maybe? He seems to be behind a lot of this.

Is there any demand for a taglist of.. Possible future Loki x Readers? I dunno? Let me know.

This fic is loosely based off a song by the same name, which is also one of my favorite songs! Enjoy. <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You didn’t notice it at first.

Not for the first few days… Weeks? You weren’t sure how long it had been happening. How long Loki had been leaving your bed in the middle of the night.

Your apartment was a decent size - more than decent, considering the average size of a New York City apartment. Being a close friend and employee of Tony Stark and Pepper Potts (was it Stark now?) had its perks. The apartment had a bedroom, a bathroom across the short hall, a living room which doubled as your workspace, and a good-sized kitchen. Even had a washer and dryer at the end of the hall, tucked neatly into a little closet that also held a few of your coats. As an added luxury, there was a small - very small - balcony off the living room. Hardly big enough to stand on, it was nevertheless a wonderful spot to sit and watch the sun set over the city. You loved living there, in that cozy space you’d made your own, and eventually welcomed Loki into. 

Loki. Not exactly someone you’d intended to end up with. Then again, who intends to fall in love with a god?

Who intends to fall in love at all?

You’d met through friends of friends, and that was about the only mundane thing about your relationship. Said friends of friends were the Avengers for crying out loud, and the moment you saw Thor in person you nearly froze from shock. The moment you saw his brother, however, your heart practically leapt out of your chest and into the hand Loki reluctantly extended, per his brother’s direction.

You took his hand in your own, trying not to tremble as you shook it. You gave your name. He gave his. You parted ways. A mundane interaction, right?

But again, few things about your relationship were mundane.

You would’ve written it off as a simple, regular greeting if Loki hadn’t found you later as you skulked along the edges of Tony’s huge party. You knew the hosts, of course, and some of the other guests - but everything was so big and frightening and new you hardly knew what to do with yourself. 

How were you, a regular human, supposed to deal with all… That? Heroic wasn’t a word you’d really use to describe yourself. Let alone super-heroic - that title was reserved for the incredible individuals around you, whose personalities and achievements eclipsed your own. You mulled over the thought, drink still clutched firmly in hand, but untouched.

And that was when Loki commented on the fact you looked “nearly as miserable as he felt.” You couldn’t help but blush a little and laugh at the comment. You quipped something back - something about misery loving company, and Loki’s eyebrows raised. His expression gave little else away, though. It hardly ever did.

It wasn’t until many months after the party, after you and Loki had gotten to know each other better and started dating, that he whispered the truth to you: the idea that anyone would be gladder with him around than with him gone, was astonishing to him. He could hardly believe it.

But when it came to you? He believed you.

You had no reason to lie to him. No need to impress him, or earn his favor, or act cordially for fear of an Asgardian royal. You were safe at that party, and you were safe when you visited him at the Avengers compound - you had no reasonable ulterior motives. Nothing to hide.

And, likewise, he had no reason to actively hide things from you, now that you lived together and you knew about his past, about his parentage.

Or, you thought he had no reason to hide things from you…

So why was he leaving you at night?

The first night you truly noticed it was on a dark, cool night of spring. 

You’d left the bedroom window open while you fell asleep, and upon waking up thought to yourself, still under a veil of sleepiness, that you should probably get up and close it. But as your eyes opened and adjusted to the dark, you noticed two things.

First, the window was closed, the curtains completely drawn. 

Second, the place next to you, where Loki usually lie, was empty. Completely empty, the bed covers pushed toward you to help keep you warm. Still half-asleep, your hand smoothed over the sheets to his spot - cold. He’d been gone a while. 

You squinted to see through the crack in your bedroom door, but couldn’t make out if the bathroom light was on. Maybe he’s in there.. You shrugged to yourself, flipping back over and nuzzling into your pillow. You’d meant to stay awake until he returned, just to be sure he was okay, but sleep quickly washed over you again.

When you woke up the next morning, you realized you definitely should’ve been able to see if the bathroom light was on, had it been on, so Loki couldn’t have been in there. He was never one for midnight snacking, as far as you could tell, so he probably wasn’t in the kitchen.

The more you thought about it, the more it bothered you. You tried to brush it aside - after all, Loki was a very private person, slow to trust or to show much emotion. He was vulnerable with few people... Maybe only one person - you. The trust between you had been hard-won, and you loved every new piece of himself he showed you. 

He also enjoyed quiet time, often spent with books. Reading, writing notes, sometimes even napping in the safety of your apartment, his forgotten book on his chest as he lie draped across the couch, his lanky limbs hanging off the edges. You really needed a bigger couch.

Yes, you assured yourself. Loki just needed time alone every now and then. Everyone did, right? 

You tried to ignore it, you truly did. 

But later, it happened again. 

You woke up to an empty bed, a dark room, and the door pulled to. This time you could swear you saw a light coming from the other room, so this time you figured he was in the bathroom and once again you succumbed to sleep.

~~~~

The morning after, you woke up to your regular routine: Get up, get dressed, make coffee for two, eat some sort of breakfast, and get to work. Work didn’t exactly have a set location - that close friendship with the Starks stemmed from having worked with Pepper for years, and now since you worked for Stark Industries, you enjoyed several perks. 

Sometimes Pepper brought you in on-site, other times (more often than not, considering the fact you had an ex-villain alien god to worry about… and not everyone was convinced about the ex part) you simply received work on your secure Stark-tech computer and worked remotely. From home, from a cafe, even from the Avengers compound when you visited. (You had a room there, too - as did Loki. Courtesy of Tony.)

So as you sat with your laptop in front of you on your desk, the window cracked to let some air in, you started the day. Coffee in hand, a half-eaten croissant next to you.

Loki stood next to you, sipping his own coffee. 

He liked to watch you work. Liked to distract you from work too - he wasn’t the god of mischief for nothing.

“Sleep well?” He broke the silence first.

You took another bite of breakfast. “Yeah. You sleep okay?”

He shifted his weight. “Fine.”

“You sure?”

His hand touched your shoulder, as if to reassure you. “Just fine. How long are you working today?” His fingers smoothed their way from your shoulder to your clavicle and back - slowly, rhythmically. 

“I literally just got started,” you muttered a soft laugh, and he chuckled in turn.

“But I like spending time with you.”

“Well I like spending time with you, too. But work is important.”

“Would it be less important if I gave Stark something better to worry about than..” Loki leaned over, scrutinizing the screen, “Interview paperwork?”

You raised your eyebrows at him. “Loki, do not attack my boss, please.”

“I said nothing about attacking him.”

“Loki.”

“Yes, love?” He smiled down at you. You huffed - he had no right to be this charming, nor this cute - but that worry was still gnawing at you. Why had he left last night? 

“Are you sure you slept okay?”

He paused a moment, then smiled - but it seemed forced. “Yes. I slept just fine - do you need to talk about something..?”

“You left.. In the middle of the night, I woke up and you were gone.”

He swallowed. “I hadn’t realized you were awake - forgive me.” His hand slid down your shoulder, to your arm - and then away. “It was just a bit of restlessness, darling, you mustn’t worry.” He kissed the top of your head, then straightening up, raised his coffee mug to his lips again. “I’ll leave you to that.. Riveting work of yours… Let me know if you ever need a welcome distraction.”

“You’re always welcome,” you smirked slightly. You weren’t convinced he was only restless but.. Maybe he was. Who knew? Loki was a mystery to many. You’d try to believe him, at least.

“Am I?” He grinned. “Then I’ll be sure to distract you often.” With a small wink, he turned and left.

~~~~

The next time you noticed it, it seemed later in the night. And this time, you heard something too. Crying. Talking - like a whisper, barely audible past the soft sobs.

The door was cracked again, but had swung a bit more open than the times before. That must be the source of the sound...

Resolved to figure out what was going on, you slid out of bed. Tried to stay quiet as you walked to the door and peered out.

There was faint light coming from the living room. A silhouette on the wall showed Loki’s position - in front of the balcony, the street lights casting his shadow. You inched down the hallway, stopping just before you reached the living room.

“...Mother, you would. I just know it. (Y/N) is endlessly beautiful, and intelligent, and… and kind…” Loki was sitting in the floor, his back to you. Dressed in the same clothes he usually wore to bed - loose pants and a comfortable green shirt. His long black hair was messy, and his body shook with sobs.

The door to the balcony was open, allowing a cool night breeze to drift in. An occasional car drove by, or plane flew overhead, but Loki was focused on the stars.

“Just like you. But I, I don’t.. I don’t deserve it. Any of it-” his voice cracked, “And I miss you.”

Your heart broke. You made your way across the living room, quietly, carefully. 

“I miss you every day,” Loki continued, shaky hands brushing hair back from his face, then gripping it in agony. “I-I wish we could speak, we could.. See each other.. That you could see me - see us, but... You’re not here.”

“Loki?” you muttered, and he inhaled sharply, turning around. 

Now you could clearly see the tears streaming down his face. His mouth was slightly open, but he closed it, his lips pressed into a thin line. 

“I- ... Darling, you shouldn’t be up at this hour,” He stood, blinking away his tears. “Go back to bed.”

You stood your ground, but tried to pick your words carefully. He looked so vulnerable, standing there in the dark, still trying to steady himself.

“No, something’s clearly wrong. Loki... How long has this been going on?”

“It doesn’t matter..”

“Yes it does.” You moved closer. He twitched - but let you approach, let you reach up to brush a tear off his cheek. More fell as he pressed his face against your palm, relishing the touch. His brows pressed together, he looked as though he could break at any time.

“Weeks,” he whispered.

“Oh, Loki..” You embraced him. He welcomed it, his arms wrapping around you, clutching you close to his shaking chest. He moved to lower himself and you followed, the both of you slowly sitting on the ground, you tucked against him, his body trembling with sobs.

Tears pricked in the corners of your eyes. What had this long life done to him?

How many nights had he cried alone?

It was several minutes before either of you spoke again. Loki calmed, his nose finding a comfortable place nestled against your hair, and his breath eventually steadied. His grip loosened. The crying slowed.

“I-I’m sorry.. I’m sorry I left you,” He gulped. “This is the only way I can talk to her anymore.”

You pulled away to see his face. Tilted your head. “Her..?”

Loki’s eyes met yours. “Frigga. My mother. She..” He couldn’t bring himself to say the next word.

“I remember.” You nodded slowly.

He’d told you a while ago that his mother had died, after Thor had brought up their parents. But he never said how. 

Loki clenched his jaw. “It… It was my fault, it was all my fault-” He settled into another bout of crying.

“Loki, love - that can’t be true. I-I don’t know everything about your life,” You cupped his face, bringing him to look at you. He sniffed, swallowing again. “I don’t. I wasn’t there for all of it. But I know you. And I know you would never, ever harm your mother.”

“But I did, I did- that monster, I told it how to escape - I told it how to reach her. And it did, and she-” He stopped himself, biting the inside of his cheek. His breath grew shaky again as he forced himself to speak. “There was a funeral. I wasn’t allowed to attend - Odin would never allow that. He barely wanted me alive in the first place,” he hissed, his face contorted with rage for a moment, before relaxing again. “I found out after. By then her body had returned to the stars..” Loki turned to the outside again.

Moonlight graced his skin, highlighting the tears still glistening on his cheeks. His eyes searched the heavens, as though begging for a sign - something real, something palpable, something to tell him she was out there. 

“Loki, I’m.. I’m so sorry. But it’s not your fault. It’s not.” You spoke as gently yet firmly as you could. Giving a monster - whatever it was - directions (you figured it was to spite the Asgardians who imprisoned him) didn’t equate to murder. He hadn’t intended it to play out that way, after all. But you could understand the guilt behind it.. And you hated the fact he’d carried that burden alone.

He stayed quiet. Pulled you closer, his chin on your shoulder, his eyes still trained on the sky. 

“I wish she could meet you.” he confessed, his head leaning against your own. His arms still firm around you, his hands finding yours - your fingers intertwined. “She’d love you.”

“I’d like to meet her, too. But maybe she can see us now.” You moved closer to him, your thumb stroking his hand. You felt Loki smile next to you - it was small, and fragile, but it was there.

“Perhaps she can,” he murmured. 

“Maybe she can see how happy you are - you’re happy, aren’t you?” You glanced at him. He kissed your temple, staying cuddled up against you. 

“Happier than ever. I.. Thank you, love. Thank you for finding me. I hadn’t the heart to, to ask you to join me… I’d hate to wake you.”

“Loki, you’re important to me. I love you, remember?” You turned, facing him fully, your back to the open door. “Can you promise me something?”

His brow furrowed slightly, but he seemed willing to listen, watching you intently.

“Promise me, if you’re lonely, wake me.”

Tears glistened in his eyes again. He nodded, slowly, and managed a soft smile.

“Yes, my love,” he murmured. “I promise.”