#its the only one where he is still in the same situation as a previous episode and isn't imprisoned in a new way

[ladyzephroar]

I came across my first AI fic on Wattpad a couple of months ago. It was for the Harry Potter fandom and the author did warn for it in the summary and the AN, so I knew what I was getting myself into. I just feel that issues aside with AI scraping stories to create its own, AI just doesn't know how to tell a story at all.

The AI story was all over the place really. It genuinely forgot that in a previous chapter that one of the main characters was in a life and death situation, but the next chapter opened up with him being present with his friends (in name only, I guess?), but then the next scene was where the friends of this character had to actually go and save him... and like the character was mentioned going with them even though he wasn't actually there with them. It was just so bizarre.

Not sure if the story is still posted there, but I never went back after reading the first few chapters. I did tell the author in a comment that it's a shame that the story was AI created because if they wrote a story that followed the same story line, I'd love it. Not sure if the author took my words to heart and honestly, I don't want to go and check.

It's just... Why use AI to write stories? It's not like you're asking for prompt ideas or asking to 'bounce ideas' so that you can form your own and start writing.

I just wanted to put this post out there to say that AI generated stories are everywhere now. AO3, Wattpad, possibly a few on FFN. It's a problem for sure when you consider the fact that in order to 'write' the story, that AI is using the works of other fic writers to do that writing, too.

no way ppl are using ai to write ao3. what happened to being a tortured writer. what happened to blood on the page. what happened to the ao3 curse. people used to get run over, have their houses burned down, break their entire spines and they still put in the work to finish a chapter. fuck you, using ai. y’all are weak

[magicalbats]

Persist and Resist (Sunday x Reader)

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 7730

Warnings: afab!reader, handjob, cum eating, a pinch of femdom, canon typical Catholic guilt

A/N: Happy Valentine's everyone! I actually started writing this one in response to an ask I got back when I was working on last years kinktober but at some point in shuffling the text around from here to Google docs it seems Tumblr ate the initial message, which is a big bummer. I do, however, recall that the sender wanted to know what I liked about Sunday ... and the answer to that is clearly 7730 words long! lol Please enjoy the fic and if you're still around, anon ... this one is for you. ❤️

⭐

“Just relax,” you murmur, ignoring his startled gasp when you lean in from behind to rest your chin against his shoulder. “You’re always so stiff. That’s not good for your health, y’know.”

He hesitates, seems to think about it. Deciding how he should react. 

Forcing himself to draw a slow, carefully measured breath this time and further betraying his feelings on the matter, Sunday grits out a terse laugh. It’s soft and quiet. A barely there chuckle that carries with it only a very small fraction of the self assured confidence he’d displayed back on Penacony. 

You knew now that the real Sunday was not quite so sure of himself or as comfortable in his own skin as he’d first appeared, although he still tries very hard to hide that insecurity from you despite being far, far away from his old home. Like some sort of defense mechanism meant to protect and shield the delicate fragile parts of him from threat of the outside world, but it doesn’t work. Not when you were sitting so damn close to him as to feel every stuttering beat of his heart.

Pressed right up against his back like this, there’s not much he can keep from you, in fact. You’re keenly aware of even the most imperceptible shift in him, from the steady expansion of his lungs down to the loose flex of his hands where they’re resting across his lap. His body language makes it clear that he’s not accustomed to sharing such close proximity with another person and he’s not quite sure what to do with it. Right down to the molecular level it’s obvious he’s way out of his comfort zone given his subtle fidgeting, as if he just couldn’t help himself.

He was nervous. Maybe even a little scared, too.

“How interesting.” He finally murmurs. “I wasn’t aware you filled the important role of medical expert on board the Express. I’ll have to make note not to end up in need of your services again.”

Turning his head, Sunday pointedly looks elsewhere in your new room on the train, much preferring to focus on anything other than its owner at the moment. 

Situated above the party car and effectively cut off from the more heavily used common areas, the privacy here is absolute and precisely why you’d extended an invitation to him. There was more than enough room for you to share this space with the wayward traveler who, as far as you could tell, had been sleeping on the bench seats in the car below while you worked to get everything set up to your liking. But he never complained about it or tried to demand better accommodations even though you were certain it was a drastic downgrade in the comfortability he was used to. Like some self flagellating martyr, almost. 

The thought that he might be using the Express’ lack of additional rooms to further punish himself, convinced he deserved that or even less, was what ultimately swayed your decision to open your door to him. You wanted to show Sunday that there were still good things in this world that he could have, things he could enjoy and appreciate the same way he had in his previous life even if they weren’t quite as luxurious or posh as he was accustomed to. 

You also wanted to show him that you were willing to forgive him and, in the process, maybe even convince him to forgive himself. 

“Do I make you uncomfortable?”

“No.” He insists, just a bit too tightly for it to be believable. “But I’ve seen you in action before. You’re not exactly what I’d call a gentle hand, and this … bedside manner is beyond me.”

That makes you smile into his shoulder as you wind your arms more securely around him, gently nudging Sunday back against your front. Still, he refuses to relent though. Staying perfectly motionless and straight as a board now, he almost feels like a statue made of solid granite sitting on the edge of the haphazardly made bed with you. Would have, were it not for the slightest hitch in his chest.

You realize in a distant, immaterial sort of way that his subconscious reaction was in response to your breasts pressing into his spine. He must like it then, even if he was loathe to say it. This was admittedly something you found to be charmingly cute in its guileless unassuming but it also made you want to tease him even more for it at the same time.

“That might be for the best,” You softly coo at him, keeping your voice light and barely more than a whisper as you trail a single hand higher up to pull at one of the clasps on his jacket. “I don’t have a medical license, after all.”

He sucks in another inhale, sharper this time. “You’re shameless.”

“That may be true, but I don’t see you trying to stop me.”

A strange little sound puffs out of him, something equally torn between indignation and fluster.

He either can’t or he won’t bring himself to reject your advances though, and he just sits there while you make careful work of unfastening his cozy coat. Idly, you wonder if this was the first time he’s ever had someone touching him like this. But he’s either making an attempt to be more polite than he otherwise would have been when someone was invading his personal bubble like this or, more likely, he considered it another facet of his penance. Further punishment for a sin he’s already been punished for twice over in your eyes. 

Sighing a quiet sound against his neck, you tentatively slip your hand into the inner layer of his shirt once you’ve got it nudged up enough to reach inside.

The skin along his stomach is enviously soft and smooth when you brush your fingers against it, and he outright jolts at that first hint of contact. Even then he still does not protest or try to pull away, though. His breathing deepens, coming slightly harder and faster now, but he makes no move to disengage from you, and you finally rouse yourself to tip your face up at him in question.

“I was only joking, Sunday. You can tell me if you don’t want me to keep going.”

“So you can hold it over my head later? I think not, Miss Stellaron. Against all odds, I still have some pride left in me.”

You frown at that. “I wouldn’t do that to you. You’re not a prisoner here and I’m not your jailer, so you’re free to make your own choices. I just want to help you.”

For a drawn out moment it doesn’t look like you’re going to get any kind of response from him, and you’re just a bit disappointed about that. But then, ever so slowly, he turns his head to cautiously glance back at you. The deeply embarrassed flush staining his cheekbones manages to surprise you, making your brows climb up to your hairline before you can suppress the reaction and stop it.

“I fail to see how this could be in any way helpful to me.” He intones, keeping his wing tucked forward across the lower half of his face so he can hide his mouth from your line of sight. Acting as a final barrier in case you were to decide to take that last inch from him. 

“I thought this might help you relax. You are pretty stiff, you know. I wasn’t joking about that.”

That defensively tucked in wing gives a brief flutter to make the soft feathers ruffle slightly, like a helpless bird trying to puff itself up to look bigger. It would have been adorable had his eyes not narrowed at you in warning in the same breath.

“I’ve never heard of such a method for relaxation. This isn’t how the Family does things.”

“But you’re not part of the Family anymore, are you? It’s okay to do things differently now.” Holding the air in your lungs, anticipating the coin drop, you slide the hand inside his shirt a little higher up to rub over a tiny nipple. “Let me show you, Sunday. Please?”

He twitches at the touch of your fingertips and quickly swings his attention back around to avoid having to look at you any longer. You can feel the shudder that runs through him but he still refuses to utter the one word that would make you back off. ‘Stop’. That’s all he needed to say. And you would, if he really wanted that. 

Something told you he didn’t completely hate what you were doing though, and it’s not like he’d ever admit to liking it anyway.

So you take your time softly petting over the petite bud, coaxing it to full stiffness which even then doesn’t leave much for you to play with. Every part of him was so slim and compact that as you feel over his chest you find yourself wondering if he was perhaps malnourished despite the life of relative luxury he’d lived back on Penacony. He shouldn’t have had to go without food, at the very least.

Deciding to find him a slice of cake in the kitchen after this, or at least a cookie, you redirect your hand to the opposite side of his chest to tease that nipple as well. Sunday stiffly arches against you in response, nudging his narrow chest up at the sensation even as he whimpers a quiet noise into the still room. He was slowly getting more and more fidgety, like he wasn’t quite sure how to react to what you were doing. How to process it or how to reconcile any of it in his mind. 

But a simple glance down at the front of him tells you everything you need to know without having to break the static charged silence by asking him how he was feeling. He wouldn’t have been honest with you anyway, of that you were certain, so there would have been no point in it.

The reluctant tent pushing up through his pants speaks for itself though, and this part of him could not lie. No matter how much he tried to fight it or wrestle it back under control, there was simply no subjugating the natural urges of his body. He couldn’t fully control it no matter how much he might want to and you can tell that bothers him a great deal in the way he softly seethes under his breath.

He was supposed to be disciplined and steadfast, not easily swayed by the compunctions of flesh and blood. And after rejecting it for so long, stuffing it down into a sealed box in the back of his mind where he wouldn’t have to look at it or think about it, he was now quickly succumbing to the full brunt of his neglected sensitivity. All you’ve done so far was tease his nipples a little bit and his cock was already needily flexing up into the placket of his slacks as if with a mind of its own. A hungry beast that couldn’t be contained no matter how hard its master might yank on the leash trying to bring it back to heel. 

It’s a little sad, in a way. You can’t help feeling sorry for him and all the simple pleasures he’s denied himself for the sake of exerting some amount of control over his own existence when he otherwise had none, but you also feel a sharp stab of arousal too. There were so many things you could teach him, if given half the chance. So many different avenues of pleasure and satisfaction, and intimacy that the two of you could explore together if he’d just allow himself the freedom to experience them for once in his life.

In truth you’d found Sunday quite interesting from the moment you first set eyes on him in front of the check-in counter of the Penacony Grand Hotel, like there was some sort of magnetic force at work urging you closer into his orbit. You knew now that at least part of that compulsion was a result of the Harmony and the other was his natural charisma as a Halovian. But there’s something else there too, something not so easily explained or written off.

He was not that much unlike you, was he? Someone who was so utterly bereft of a home to call his own in this vast cosmos that the nomadic existence of a star-bound wanderer was the only feasible option left to him. Everything from his identity right down to his own sister had been taken from him and he was alone now, save you and the rest of the Astral Express crew. You could understand that well enough even if you didn’t have any memories of what you’d lost before ending up here, just the same as he eventually had.

But you wanted to show him what having that freedom was really like, even if it was just a tiny glimpse of what awaited him on the other side now that he was free of Penacony’s slumbering birdcage.

“Do you trust me, Sunday?”

He tries to laugh again, fails miserably at it, and all that comes out is an odd little croak instead. “I don’t see that I have much of a choice in the matter, do I?”

“Of course you do.” 

Carefully sliding your hand out of his shirt, you reach down to tug at his belt buckle with deliberate slowness, giving him ample opportunity to protest. He just groans the most threadbare little sound you’ve ever heard though, and finally allows himself to reluctantly ease back into you. Still unfalteringly stiff and halting, but at least you were making progress.

With a brief clink and a rattle, his belt comes loose. You set your sights on his pants next, fumbling with the top button just as slowly so as not to spook or startle him. He really was like a defenseless bird caught in the sights of a much larger predator and unable to fly, to flee or to fight. He remains passive in your arms, luckily, but the building anticipation of what you were doing does make him start to squirm. He quickly forces himself to stop and be still though, merely watching what your hands are doing with his face tipped down towards his lap.

Soon enough you have those neatly pressed slacks open and you slip your fingers inside to feel along the band of his underwear before trailing even lower. You find his straining cock easily when it’s already stiff and rigidly pushing up from his body, giving it a gentle squeeze through the last layer of laughably thin cotton, and he responds with a tortured, half choked gasp.

“M - Miss Stellaron …”

You can hear the hoarse rattle in his voice as much as you feel it where you’re pressed right up against him like you are. At some point your breathing seems to have synced with his and you find yourself quietly panting right along with him as you work to nudge his pants down far enough to free him from them. 

Clearly picking up on your intent, Sunday hesitates to do it and he sways almost unsteadily between your arms before he at last manages to shyly angle his hips off the edge of the mattress to help you in your endeavor. He whimpers softly while he does it, and you consolingly coo at him as you press your face into the crook of his elegant neck to breathe deep the smell of him. Soap and clean linen, and a hint of downy fuzz that makes your head feel light with the impression of warmth. Perfect for cuddling. 

“Shh. Just relax for me. I promise I’ll take good care of you. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Tipping forward, you place a tender kiss to his drooping wing and you’re delighted by the sensitive inhale he sucks in at the sensation of your lips brushing against the feathers. You’d always wondered if they were as delicately receptive as they looked and you were glad to have your answer even as you tug at his underwear to slide the band underneath his straining length.

And it immediately springs up into the air, already flushed and leaking as it weakly twitches in his lap as if in a desperate bid for attention. You’re amazed at not only how beautiful his cock is, average in size at best and yet so perfectly shaped as to look somehow beyond the pale of mere flesh, but also at how satiny soft and smooth it is. The flawless texture almost makes it look like something made of alabaster, and you eagerly reach around to take him in your hand.

“Oh!” His back dramatically arches against you, his hands flying up where they hesitate over yours for a harrowing moment before he allows himself to latch onto your wrists. It’s the first hint of reciprocity on his part, intentionally touching you instead of remaining a bystander as he had up until now, but you still hold your breath as you wait to see what he’ll do next.

If he was going to push you away this would be the time. The situation had clearly escalated beyond what could be excused as simple platonic affection and you brace for his reaction. His rejection. 

To your genuine surprise, however, Sunday just holds onto you by the wrists and weakly rolls his hips up in a shuddering, painfully stiff thrust. The motion sends his cock stuttering across your fingers before pulling back when he eases down to sit fully on the mattress again, wheezing softly at just that brief stimulation. You sorely wished you could see his face again but Sunday’s attention remains down and that fluttering wing stays an ever present screen for him to hide behind as well. 

No matter though. You didn’t really have need for visual cues when you could feel everything in stunning high definition through the point of contact between his body and yours. 

Closing your fist tighter around his cock, you gently begin to pump him, hand dragging from the base where ticklishly coarse hairs tease your knuckles straight up to the tip to make his foreskin bunch over the head. You can hear the sticky wet click of precum but it’s quickly lost under the harsh, frazzled gasp he raggedly pulls in. And it almost manages to surprise you, how sensitive he really is and how vigorously he twitches at your ministrations. There was some part of you that hadn’t been sure if he was even able to put on such an animated display, thinking he’d fight tooth and nail to keep up that implacable facade no matter what manner of duress he was made to endure. 

That is not what happens though. 

Instead he suddenly comes alive, unable to stop himself from full on shuddering and twisting his narrow hips against your hold. Hissing an overwrought sound into the otherwise still and silent room, he clutches at your arms in such a tight deathgrip that the leather of his gloves softly creaks. Not to stop you or to push you away, you dully realize when he groans your name like a plea. But because it felt good and it overwhelmed him, and he needed to hold onto something or risk shattering into a million pieces right then and there. 

Stealing another quick, almost giddy look down at the cock gripped in your fist, you don’t think that’s going to help him or stop the inevitable though. He’s flushed pink and raw from nothing more than just a few brief pumps of your hand, and you can feel the intense throb of him pulsing under your fingers. Not only was he going to cum quick and hard, considering how fiercely he shakes for you, but it was also going to take an embarrassing lack of effort on your part to get him there. 

“Oh, Sunny. Are you enjoying yourself now?” You purr into his shoulder, delighted at how abruptly he’d changed his songbird’s tune. From proud and immovable to a writhing, pathetically whimpering mess in just the blink of an eye. And all it had taken was the firm hold of your hand on him. It was in many ways astounding. “I always knew you had it in you.”

“I told you — nnghn! Not to … not to call me that.” 

Humming a low sound of agreement, you slowly drag your hand back down the length of him to peel away his foreskin in a tortuously stilted motion. Another sticky click hits your ears and he grunts a harried noise of distress when the cool air wafts against his exposed glans unimpeded, making him judder wildly in response. But you keep him held tightly against you even when his back dramatically bows, using your anchoring arm wrapped around his flexing stomach to keep Sunday pressed into you while the opposite hand gives his base a pinched squeeze to stave off his release. It wouldn’t hold it back for long but you were happy with even just those few extra seconds you’re given to admire him. 

And admire him you do. He’s sticky with an excess of eager, dribbling precum that coats the glistening head in a filmy sheen, inviting you to reach out and rub him there. You knew that would undo him in alarmingly short order though, so you hold off for the moment. Rather, you gently smooth your touch down to caress over his balls and wrap your fingers around their delicate weight, cradling them in the palm of your hand. 

Surprising you a great deal, Sunday outright yelps at the sensation and jolts as if you’d just electrocuted him despite how careful you’d been in handling his testes. Slim chest heaving on an uncontrollable, stuttering rhythm, he heavily leans back into you and tips his head to keen up at the ceiling. The sound itself as much as the volume of it makes your heart leap into your throat where it threatens to suffocate you. He was getting much too loud, wasn’t he?  

Your thoughts immediately flash upon the idea that someone might be just downstairs in the party car but you aren’t sure how well sound travels between the two floors, and that makes you nervous. Would they be able to hear him clearly and figure out what was happening just over their heads, or would it only seem like muffled and distant noise? Hell, even if one of your other crewmates wasn’t down there Shush almost certainly was. That damned robot hardly ever moved from behind the polished bar unless it was to pester someone with its awful jokes. What would it even say about the things it could hear going on up in your room? 

Quickly deciding you really didn’t want to test fate like that, you unlock your arm from around his middle and reach up to lightly palm over the graceful line of his throat instead. His Adam’s apple bobs thickly under your hand with the rough inhale he pulls in, swaying between your thighs when he turns his head to blink at you as if he were drunk and seeing double. But at least it looked like you had his attention again. 

“You need to watch your volume. If someone hears us, that's going to make having breakfast together way more awkward than I’d like.” You warn him, keeping your voice gentle and soft. For someone who’d acted with such overwhelming confidence on his home turf he’d quickly proven himself skittish and easy to fluster once you got your hands on him. You didn’t want to scare him off after all the effort you’d had to put in just to get this far. 

“I … I’m sorry.” He mutters with no shortage of Herculean effort. Gone are the impeccable manners and lofty words of the head of the Oak Family, and in their place there was now only a raw vulnerability you hadn’t expected to see in him. “It seems I’ve — forgotten myself. How embarrassing. I - I’ve never …”

“Been touched like this?” You supply, giving his balls a featherlight palpitation for emphasis. 

It’s enough to make Sunday hiss through tightly clenched teeth though, squeezing his eyes shut against the sensation as he turns his head away. “Yes. I mean n - no. This is my … first time.” 

That makes you smile. “I can tell. You’re so sensitive, Sunny. Haven’t you ever thought to touch yourself before?” 

His little wings flutter in response, flapping an irritable rhythm that makes the feathers softly smack against your face as if to bat you away. It’s hard to say if he was offended that you would even think to ask that of him in the first place or if it was because you’d used that insufferable nickname again but either way his reaction makes you laugh. 

Yes, there were a great many avenues of mischief the two of you could get into. It would be fun exploring them together, and this was only the first activity on a very long list of things you wanted to introduce him to. It was a bit out of order but maybe you could try kissing next. 

Your own excitement grows at the thought, and you eagerly swing your attention back around to Sunday’s lap. Giving his balls one last, gentle squeeze, you curl your hand upward so you can wrap it around his shaft and feel that silken skin under your fingers again. The seething noise he makes sounds suspiciously like that of a tea kettle getting close to boiling but he makes a valid attempt to keep his voice in check when you offer that rigid length another slow, savory tug. 

Unfortunately he quickly loses hold of that threadbare control as you reach the glans and the drag of your fist makes his foreskin slide up to bunch over the fleshy slit. The sensation seems to nearly bowl him over and he judders helplessly, squawking an oversensitized sound. Even with the threat of discovery an ever present danger, you still can’t quite stop yourself from grinning at his decidedly innocent, unassuming reaction. 

“Oh, Sunday … what are we going to do if someone comes knocking on the door because they heard you? Something tells me that look on your face would give us away no matter how we tried to explain ourselves.” 

He full on whimpers at that, sounding sad and deeply ashamed in at the implication of guilt. It’s clearly getting harder for him to maintain his usual cool the longer your hands are on him though, and you realize you’re going to have to do something to help him out. He was much too sensitive, too easily overwhelmed to roll the dice in this particular situation when getting caught together could mean the end of everything. 

Licking your lips, you momentarily consider choking him just enough to cut off his air supply and make it impossible for him to cry out. Your fingers idly flex around the bobbing curve of his throat at the thought. Although it’s certainly a tempting idea you ultimately think better of it, sliding your hand higher up to brush over his jaw instead. 

Finding Sunday’s mouth, you slide your palm over it and press down firmly to elicit a startled yet blissfully muffled sound from him. He jolts and lurches in your hold, as if only just now realizing the true scope of the danger he was in, but it’s much too late. 

Readjusting your hold on his cock in the other hand, you firmly drag your fist down and then back up, settling into a steady rhythm that continuously works the foreskin over his receptive glans. Back and forth, back and forth, up and down; rubbing, sliding, sticky slick clicking in your ears. And Sunday outright shrieks behind your fingers, twisting and tossing his head like a wild animal caught in a trap. His belt rattles softly where it’s spread open across his thighs, still twisted up in his pants, and his wings slap a furious beat that has you turning your face into his shoulder to avoid the full brunt of his ratcheting alarm. 

He’s hard to keep ahold of like this, especially when he digs his heels into the floor and tries to wrench himself free, but your physical strength proves greater. Despite being a man and in spite of having a few inches on you in height, he just isn’t equipped to fight you off. Not when you’ve got his cock in one hand, stroking it with the continuous glide of your palm over all of that sinfully smooth flesh, and the halfhearted way he shoves at your arms quickly morphs into desperate grabbing instead. 

Blindly, he latches onto you; your thighs where they bracket his shuddering hips, the bend of your arm, so he can squeeze tight and hold on for dear life. His muffled sounds of pleasure turn dazed and intoxicated as he rigidly slumps against you at last. And when he tips his head back to rest along your shoulder, tiny wings still fluttering helplessly but starting to weaken and droop, you dare to lift your face to look at him. 

Wrecked is the only word that immediately comes to mind. His usually perfectly styled hair is tousled and sweat damp where it sticks to his skin in a few places. Cheeks so hot with color you know he’d be warm to the touch. It’s the far-away glisten in his golden eyes, once so sharp and pointed, now distant and too heavy to keep fully open anymore, that really seals the deal though. Sunday’s higher functioning mind may still have been fighting against it but his body was singing like a deftly plucked chord while the violently crashing waves of pleasure slam into him with every slide of your fist. 

Feeling devious and a little too eager to stop yourself, you take advantage of his draining will to fight it and adjust your hand over his mouth so you can plunge two of the fingers inside. He squawks a decidedly undignified sound at the sudden intrusion but even his attempt to turn his head away is half hearted at best. Only somewhat reluctantly does he allow you to probe at his squirming tongue, feeling the perfect line of his teeth scrape over your knuckles when you reach back just far enough to make him gag. 

The compulsion is an odd one, you understand that much, but it’s as if your own pounding excitement won’t be satisfied until you’ve thoroughly torn down every one of his mile wide defenses. You needed to leave him debauched and utterly disillusioned from his old role, his previous identity, or this wasn’t going to accomplish what it was supposed to. How else could he be expected to move on and undertake the journey ahead of him if he was still clinging to his old ways and holding himself to the same standards as before? 

Sunday needed to see that despite his once high-minded ideals he was still just human, that his flesh and blood body was not some great sin for him to reject or punish. That he didn’t need to self sacrifice and martyr himself just for his life to have meaning. You wanted him to understand that it’s okay to be a little messy sometimes, and there’s nothing wrong with letting go of his almost fanatically held control. 

So it is with a great deal of pleasure that you keep his jaw wedged open with your fingers, carefully moving them back and forth over his tongue while he whimpers and whines so sweetly for you. It doesn’t take long for the excess of saliva to build up and dribble out at the corners of his lips, his spine dramatically flexing when he feels that first unseemly rivulet run down his jaw. His mouth works futilely around your digits, alternating between trying to spit them out or to somehow swallow around them but it doesn’t work. The drool just keeps coming, slowly bubbling out to track sticky paths down his face. 

You even catch a glimpse of shuddering moisture wetting his lash lines but you politely look away despite the eager jump in your pulse at the sight of those tears. It would have been all too easy for you to tease him for them, really lean into the humiliation he was probably feeling, but that was not your goal here. Not this time, at least. 

Instead you focus your attention back on the hand wrapped around his cock. Your ministrations had slowed to a stop while you were stuffing his mouth full and now you can see the length of him, flushed a pretty pink that almost matches his face, flexing needily against your hold. He was leaking enough precum to smooth the glide of your next upward stroke, watching in fascinated wonder as the fleshy hood of his foreskin comes up with another soft click to make the clear discharge slowly ooze down the sides of his shaft. 

His hips wildly buck and he wails a garbled noise as he needily arches up off the bed, jutting his pelvis out as if in desperate supplication for more. Both of his hands have latched onto your thighs now and he squeezes them tight enough to hurt. But you give him what he wants, what he so clearly needs, pumping your fist up and down the length of him on a steady, energetic rhythm. 

Sunday freezes like that, poised with his back bowed and his body flexed away from the mattress. Distantly, you realize that he seems to have stopped breathing altogether, holding the air in his aching lungs while the rest of him stiffly shudders and twitches steadily closer to the edge of oblivion. He was beautiful like this, like something out of a tawdry, lurid painting of some ethereal being from legend or myth. 

“Oh, Sunday,” You coo at him, so soft and gentle. Coaxing him ever towards his own ruination. “Are you going to cum for me?” 

Wailing a frazzled sound of distress around your spit soaked fingers, he gives his head the barest shake as if to deny the simple reality of what was happening. Unfortunately his own body betrays him almost instantly, and you stare in rapt fascination when his narrow hips stiffly lock up before nudging forward in a reluctant thrust. He’s holding himself far too unrelentingly to execute the full range of motion but it’s enough to have him fucking into your hand in painful, tortuously slow increments. 

He just can’t seem to help himself or smother the urge completely, even when the rolling grind of his pelvis was clearly something foreign to him. But it’s instinctive and hard coded, muscle memory carved into the very atoms of his body more than anything else. And you can see the musculature in his slim thighs trembling fiercely, the flex of his stomach dramatic while he wheezes and gasps his pleasure into the otherwise still air. You knew your fingers weren’t doing as sufficient a job at muffling him as your palm would have, but you can’t quite bring yourself to move or even care very much about that right now. 

Especially not when he gives one final, stuttering thrust into the squeeze of your hand and his cock positively erupts in a sudden spray of white. Creamy and thick, it shoots up into the air on what you would consider an impressive arc before splattering across his front. A second jet quickly follows the first, and then a third, while Sunday all but sobs through his orgasm, wetly choking on it even as he gradually sinks back down to the bed in a drained heap of splayed limbs. 

The eager pulse along his length quickly slows, oozing yet more of that clear discharge to dribble down the length of his shaft in sticky tracks before at last subsiding completely. He’s already a complete mess with various bodily fluids coating his skin but you still give him one final squeeze and drag your hand up to draw the last little bit of his release out of his flagging cock. He seethes a delirious sound in response, head lolling back in doped out bliss while he tries to even out his breathing again to no avail. 

“How was that?” You prod, smiling to yourself as you withdraw your fingers from his mouth. A sticky wad of saliva follows after you, catching on his bottom lip, and you brush your thumb up to helpfully wipe it away, ignoring the mirthless, gasping laugh he rattles out. “It looked like you enjoyed it to me. Was that really your first orgasm?”

Somewhat awkwardly clearing his no doubt dry and scratchy throat, Sunday pointedly turns his head to look elsewhere. Still shy and reticent to openly show any of his emotions, but he certainly felt more relaxed in your arms than he had before. “I wouldn’t have any reason to lie about that, would I? Or do you take me for some kind of shameless masochist?” 

Allowing a brief giggle to slip out, you lean further into him so you can find his neck and deliver a soft peck to the still thrumming pulse under his skin. Sucking in a deeply flustered inhale, he snaps his attention back around to look at you with wide, startled eyes. That makes you laugh too, much to his pouting confusion. 

“What?” He demands at last. 

“Nothing. I was just thinking how cute you really are, that’s all.” 

His brows shoot up almost too fast for you to track the motion. “Cute? M - me? But I don’t —“

“It’s alright, Sunday. Just go with the flow. You feel pretty good right now, don’t you?” Grinning at the uncertainty that flashes across his face, you lower your chin to rest against his shoulder, much like how you’d first started. Realistically only a few minutes had passed but it felt like an entire lifetime had come and gone, and yet you were still right back to this again. 

In the following silence while Sunday chews on that and mulls it over, you rove your attention down to inspect the damage you’d caused. Luckily his coat had been more or less out of the way where you’d spread it open earlier, and it looked like the quickly cooling evidence of this sneaky tryst had mostly landed in harmless flecks across the darker inner shirt underneath. That was a small relief, if you were being honest. You didn’t even want to think about all the fussing he’d do if you stained his white jacket like that. 

“Well,” he says at last, rousing you from your thoughts. “While I still think your methods are unscrupulous and incredibly underhanded … I suppose I still owe you my thanks. I do indeed feel more at ease than I did before. Now if you’ll excuse me —“ 

Quickly looping your arms around his middle when he makes a move to stand up, you yank him back against you with another laugh. “Nuh-uh. We’re not done yet, Sunny. I need to help you clean up that mess first.” 

Choking on a protest, he reaches down to shove at your arms but you don’t budge, pointedly nuzzling into him from behind as if to prove that he wasn’t going anywhere until you decided to let him go. After another brief moment of cursory struggle, he finally gives up and slumps against you with a terse click of his tongue. 

“Really, is this truly necessary?” He grumbles under his breath, lifting a hand to subconsciously wipe the remaining spit off his chin with an air of distaste. “Haven’t you gotten what you wanted out of me already? I'd think you would be satisfied by now, Miss Stellaron.” 

You hum a sly sound at that, coquettishly walking two of your fingers up the front of his shirt to one of the bigger globs of milky white bleeding into the material. He goes still against you, mouth dropping open in what could only be abject shock when you swipe one of the digits through the mess before lifting it up to your face. 

Looking appropriately scandalized now, Sunday tracks the motion with wide, horrified eyes. “Wh - what are you doing? That’s —“ 

Popping your cum coated fingertip into your mouth earns you a strangled gasp and he tries to reel back from you as if in disgust. But you keep your arm locked around his middle, holding him firmly in place while you suck the digit clean. Sunday’s wings flutter an anxious beat and tuck forward to curl defensively over the lower half of his face but it does very little to hide the furious blush staining his cheeks. He looked even more like a ripe cherry ready to be plucked than when you’d been holding his cock in your hand. 

“It’s nothing to be so embarrassed about.” You tell him candidly when you slide your finger out and reach back down to swipe it through the sticky fluid on his shirt again. “You don’t taste bad, if that’s what you’re thinking. I like how you feel in my mouth.” 

His eyes nervously darting from side to side, up and down, anywhere but directly at you, he tries to speak, croaks, and then awkwardly clears his throat again. “But - but that’s … unhygienic, isn’t it? That came out of my … my - -“ 

Softly laughing at how dangerously close he seems to fainting dead away like some sort of swooning maiden in an old movie, you catch a clinging glob of his spend and lift it up towards his face this time. “It’s fine, I promise. You taste good, Sunday. I wouldn’t lie to you. Here, try it for yourself?” 

He makes a face at that, reminding you of a kid that doesn’t want to take his medicine, but at your gentle prodding he slowly lowers his wings. The drooping feathers brush against your curled fingers just so, almost making you tremble at their light touch as you watch him differentially drop his gaze. Submissive and pliable, a clear sign of his bending to your will. 

Your earlier arousal flares back to life with a vengeance, making you feel uncomfortably warm and damp between the legs. Holding the air in your lungs, you nudge your hand closer and he obediently parts his lips for you with a tiny, shuddering whimper. Eyes slipping shut when you slide into his mouth again so you can drag your fingertip across his tongue and smear the salty discharge, making sure he got a good taste of it, he issues a faltering breath that puffs against your knuckles. 

“See? Not so terrible, is it?” You murmur, your voice drawling at a lower octave than usual. Watching him come to terms with his own body was almost as distracting as the need pulsing in your loins, demanding attention and relief in equal measure. You wanted him. More of him. All of him. 

But would he have you? 

Groaning a threadbare little sound, Sunday flutters his lashes and cautiously opens them to peer over at you. For a drawn out moment the two of you just stare at one another, gazes locked and searching. Questioning. Begging. 

And then, ever so sweetly, he closes his mouth and gives your finger an experimental suck, swallowing down the evidence of your illicit activities. A stuttering exhale escapes him as you slowly withdraw your hand, giving him just enough space to breathe for a second. You wanted him to decide for himself how he wanted to proceed, what his next move should be. 

Because what you’d said earlier was the truth. You were not his jailer, nor were you going to willingly facilitate that self flagellating streak of his either. If he wanted to come to you it would be in mutual pleasure and enjoyment, as equals with a vested interest in each other's happiness. Not as punishment or penance for something you’d already decided to forgive him for. 

“M - Miss Stellaron, I …” 

The way his wings start to shyly curl inward again, wanting to hide behind them, brings another smile to your face. He really was too cute like this. “What is it, Sunny?” 

He sucks in a mildly bothered breath at that. “I told you not to — never mind. It doesn’t really matter, I suppose. And you were right. It wasn’t terrible. In all honesty, nothing you’ve done today was … entirely disagreeable in my eyes. So if you’d like to … I mean, if it pleases you we could …”

“Keep going?” You helpfully offer up, making his expression pinch in obvious embarrassment. 

“W - well, should you insist I … I guess I wouldn’t have any complaints about that. But only if you want to. I don’t care either way.” 

“Sure you don’t.” Practically grinning from ear to ear now, you place your hand against his shoulder and push to get him turned around. He still refuses to look directly at you, evidently finding the pattern on your bedspread far more interesting in that moment, but he doesn’t change his mind or try to pull away when you lean into him. 

Tipping your head so you can dip into the space between his nervously fluttering wings, you find Sunday’s mouth and kiss him. Tentatively at first to see how he’ll react, but when all he does is whimper a flustered sound against your lips you press harder, letting your hunger for him dictate your actions. His hands carefully come up to slide around your neck while his wings slowly fall open, letting you in as he holds you against him, and you feel like you just might burst. 

To be wanted by someone like him felt like a blessing and a curse all wrapped up in one. By initiating this had you only sped up his ruination from perfect and holy to mere mortal, or had you just engineered your own downfall in the same breath? 

You’d find out soon enough.

⭐

Cross posted: here

[hello-gloomy]

Hello!!! Thank you for your amazing writing so far!!!

I hope if its no trouble could you please do a Xeno Houston Wingfield x reader scenario where the reader is captured at the same time as Gen (by Stanley ofc). And then Xeno kind of like falls for her because she also majors in rockets and space...or something. Feel free to ignore or change it up!

Thank you in advance!!

I love this sm, hope you like it and it's not to crack filled.

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

Black Magic

Dr. Xeno H. x Fem!Reader

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Description: Being the only American in the Kingdom of Science comes in handy when you finally make the trip to America; being a fellow scientist also helps a little too well, though.

Warnings: Mild violence, touching, the reader is said to be American, maybe a bit creepy Xeno, Sarcasm, and cursing. Maybe OOC. SPOILERS FOR THE ANIME S4.

A/N: I hope Anon enjoys this; I also couldn't help but make the reader an agent of chaos. The opportunity was too good to pass up. I hope this isn't too OOC for you guys

Words: 1,300

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The only time being American came in handy while in Japan during the petrification was when you were in the Stone World, and Senku wanted to return to America, which meant you were stuck as an encyclopedia for everyone else. When the kingdom reached Texas, you already knew something was off; it was too easy.

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!" Were the first words out your mouth while you and everyone else were running from being shot at. While you were happy that you weren't the only ones who had progressed this far with science, you hated how American this situation was. They were firing on a bunch of randoms on their land that they hadn't seen before, very Texas; at least they didn't leave behind their amendments. After your group had made off with the plane, you were stuck with the scouting group being the only one in their natural element. When Gen had noticed how easy it was to track your attacker, he volunteered to go and find him himself. You wouldn't let him off so quickly, so you followed him just in case.

"We gonna get shot at again," You mused to Gen with a smirk, earning a disapproving look from him. When you finally stumbled upon your attacker, who promptly aimed his gun at you both, you couldn't help but burst into laughter, much to Gen's dismay. As he negotiated for your lives, the blonde with the purple lipstick instructed you to follow him to his colony while sneaking glances in your direction. You had to guess it was due to your clothing; it was more native to your home country than the one you had been staying in for so long. Gen was looking around, amazed at everything but still keeping a poker face; you, on the other hand, were dismissive of the entire operation. It was obvious that they had a smaller group than yours and hadn't found out how to un-petrify anyone yet. When you arrived at what you could tell was a lab, you were finally shown the mastermind behind this whole thing. When he turned to face you and Gen, your eyes and mouth reacted faster than your self-preservation skills.

"You're that fucking Scientist from those NASA articles!" All three men looked over at you, which made your cheeks heat at all the eyes on you.

"How elegant; it brings me pleasure to know that achievements in the old world reached multiple ends of the planet." While Stanley, as you've come to find out from one Dr. Xeno, is hooking up Gen to what you can tell is a fantastic stone world lie detector, he chats it up with you, asking where you are from, how long you've been awake, what your previous occupation was; you can't help but answer him excitedly. For someone your age and with the same or higher level of intelligence as you, it was a truly invigorating experience.

"Please stop telling the enemyyay information about us." Gen pleaded with you; he had a plan, so you did decide to be a little less loose-lipped, but you still did want to talk to the doctor while you loved talking to Senku; he was still a little too young for you, while Dr. Xeno was much older and on your level emotionally speaking in a sense.

"Relax. They're just a bunch of goths."

"Can you take this erioussay!" Gen was practically begging at this point, so you backed off and went to stand by the gunslinger instead. The Dr. went to go and question Gen, and he, in turn, worked his magic to get you both on the inside. When he called Taiju a doctor, you had to steel your face so hard not to cringe at his choice of fake leaders for your group. You saw Stanley looking at you from the corner of his eyes.

"Man, Dr. Xeno must really like you." You start while glancing at his lips; he raises his brow, signaling for you to go forward with your statements about the two of them.

"Purple is a pretty difficult color to make; in ancient times, they used snails to get that color. But while doing that, the species of snail they were using were becoming less common, making it a color only used for the aristocracy." Stanley let out a huff and shook his head.

"God, your just as bad as him with this science shit." He jested, and you screwed up your face. Gen walked over to where the two of you stood along the wall and hit you in the arm. You gave him a half-hearted 'ow' while rubbing your arm.

"You can take Gen and introduce him to everyone else." Stanley nodded while Gen started to splutter reasons for you to accompany him. You waved your hand, signaling you would be fine.

"Relax, Doctor Frankenstein won't kill me." You direct to Gen. While smiling at the X-marked doctor before you, you see his lips twitch, making you smile even more significantly. Gen spares you one last glance before walking along quietly. He offers you a seat, and you take it with a small 'thank you' before taking it.

"Coffee?" he offers, and you practically moan out a yes at the thought of caffeine touching your taste buds. He brings over two mugs before pulling up a seat beside you, watching as you take your first sip and practically crying tears of joy at the taste.

"Make me a monster, and I might marry you." He huffs a little laugh.

"I will get on that for you, " he tells you while taking his own sip. He asks you how long you've been out of the stone; you hold eye contact while weighing the pros and cons of answering him. You decide to give him the time, and he nods in understanding. He also rewards you for your honesty, telling you the timeline of how long he's been out.

"It seems your technology is not too far behind ours."

"We would be farther if we weren't too busy fighting amongst ourselves." You tell him with mild exasperation, mumbling about teenagers and their angstyness.

"Why not join my group?" He offers while grasping your face and staring into your eyes intensely; those black voids make you pause.

"It would be nice to have a headstart on having more intelligence in this new world." He tells you while rubbing a clawed thumb along your face; you feel your heart move to your throat at his implication, his thoughts similar to Tsukasa's in the beginning. It made your stomach twist; you knew Senku's idea of reviving the entirety of humanity was the dream of a naive child; being a couple years his senior, you knew the reality of your situation from the start, so you decided to let Senku have his hope for the future even starting to believe it after a few years. The second you saw the shores of America is when you were brought off of the childish dream you let yourself fall into.

"There's only so many smart people in the world, you know." He chuckles quietly at your statement, moving to brush hair out of your face instead. He moves to bring out some supplies, and you lean over his shoulder in interest. Your eyes widen in recognition at what he brought out in front of you: supplies for makeup.

"Yes, and I happened to have found one of them, " he tells you, letting you make a few makeup products while he watches. He could convince you to join him and see things through his eyes; he would ensure it and never let someone with such potential slip through his claws—not now, not ever.

[ceiling-karasu]

Squirrel and Hedgehog Shipping Polls

I’m heading out to the Caribbean this weekend for a family vacation, so this poly ship should make for a warm discussion from the suggestions and prompts in the tags.

The captured Field Mouse from episode two, and his hedgehog Guards.

[bogor-o]

OKAY so first off my narilamb au is specific to my lamb n nari bc 🤪 but imma start off w/ an incomprehensible copy/paste of a ramble i had

all these ramblings are still rough but u kno!!!!

it's a bridgerton au specific 2 my narilamb(ovidia/narinder) where the bishops would be the closest to the bridgerton family equivalent and Shamura being the head of family trying to help their siblings find courtship so they will be set but narinder would be the most difficult of them all because hes stubborn and convinced that being married would make him miserable and every season hes had several interested suitors but hes rejected them all until he comes across ovidia, now considered a spinster after several unsuccessful seasons because all their previous suitors found them too high maintenance and itd be no different with narinder but itd be similar to bridgertons kate/anthony situation and they're so into eachother it makes them look fucking stupid!!!!

ALRIGHT now to get more into it, as far as family and dynamics go, obviously with Shamura being the head of the family they very meticulously keep things in order and its why their considered one of the most affluent families and they've very easily found partnership because it was probably more business than anything but it works for them, and when time came for kallamar to start looking it was smooth because of how enthused he was, and it was really obvious with him how many wanted in

the way i see it, nothing is strictly monogamous, but it's seen as "lower class" to have too many spouses because the merging of so many families is probably seen as greedy, desperate, something something for one reason or another-- that said, kallamar definitely has multiples, and if not for being such a prestigious family and shamuras own reputation, it couldve been worse so they got a freebie there

but with narinder, having seen the way his brother is with his spouses vs the way shamura is with theirs, hes seen an instance of a loveless business deal in one, and complete obsession to the point of disregarding everything else that hes so fucking disinterested in courtships especially in the way its been presented to him

hed be able to hold off shamura long enough to get away with putting off courting anyone, a lot of it having to be about "focusing on his studies and career" and while hes had PLENTY of potential suitors come knocking but he's always turned them away but when time comes for heket to debut its when the pressure is really on for narinder

THEN on the flipside there ovidia who has been insistent on taking on every role in their family, the head of which is the oldest matriarch who has yet to decide on who the next head will be and they have TRIED to court people but every potential suitor has just not lived up to the impossible standards theyve set but even WHEN theyre about to settle- something goes wrong and the courtship sinks and its always on the others terms

their family is large, but theyre only wealthy in the sense that such a large family that sticks together can hardly fail when everyone does their part. that alone make their name well known even if its unconventional

its at the start of the latest season that they try again where they first meet narinder and while everything almost seems perfect, the chemistry is almost instant but then they get a little too candid and ovidia talks too much about their situation and it triggers the part of narinders brain that fears becoming like shamuras marriage and a scathing remark both stuns and pisses off ovidia

one second everything is amazing, they seem to be on the same wave length, strong goals the other respects, even finding an initial attraction in the other but then he opens his mouth and theyve had it

they blow up at him and suddenly everything he does pisses them off and they'll start nitpicking everything about him and be right and their observations piss him off and then he starts going off on them along the lines of "i can see now why each season passes you by" to which ovidia is ready with a "as though your own haven't? one is left wonder if studying is why you've put off finding a spouse, or if that mouth of yours is to blame"

it self destructs right then and there and while they have no intention to cross paths again, of course they do

and it becomes some kind of pissing contest to find a spouse before the other does just to prove a point to the other than they CAN in fact find one and they both end up sabotaging each other unintentionally bc theyre still so into each other and in the short time they've gotten to know the other and even through the bickering it becomes apparent theyve put effort to remember things

its stupid, its messy, its what it is and im still thinking about it more.............

[scarletttries]

Write A Kiss Request: Kang Dae-Ho/Player 388 (Squid Game) x Reader...a kiss in a rush of adrenaline

(prompt list here) & 2025 Request List - requests open

..a kiss for Dae-Ho in a rush of adrenaline

You hadn't really thought about finding an ally in this awful place. Honestly you thought the desperation that filled the sad dorm every night would make everyone here focus on only looking out for themselves. But amongst the darkest times there is always a glimmer of hope in the kindness of others, and the Squid Games were no exception. After only the first game you found yourselves falling in with the previous winner Gi-Hun and the team of friends he seemed to so effortlessly gather around him. One of your teammates in particular seemed to have the innate ability to keep the lights of hope on in your heart when they could have so easily been extinguished - Dae-Ho.

The awkward former marine had been the first to offer you a seat with them, dusting off one of the metal steps you perched on as if he was pulling out a chair at a nice restaurant. It was easy to feel safe around him; his strong arms always settling him in the seat beside you, his kind eyes seeking reassurance you were okay as the games progressed, and his sweet smile telling you this situation would be over soon enough, even though you had no reason to believe him. The two of you were clearly drawn to each other as you entered the game of Mingle, Dae-Ho swearing on his life to keep you close no matter what. But with each passing round the crowd got more aggressive and desperate, the sea of frantic bodies pulling you apart in its current, even as you fought to stay together. After each round you managed to find each other again, only to be grabbed by different groups in the next round and left desperately hoping and praying you both would emerge safely when the doors unlocked again.

"Hold onto my hand." He said firmly as you reunited for the final round, a renewed intensity in his eyes knowing that he only needed to keep you safe for one more torturous minute of this terrible game. "In-ho thinks it will be two per room next, so I promise, me and you are going to be safe." He tried to sound confident, but even in the dim lights you could see his eyes were glistening on the edge of tears as he clung to your hand and braced himself for the wheel stop.

"Groups of Two!" The automated game voice called out for above, and suddenly you felt your whole body getting heaved upwards, the ground below you moving faster than you thought possible from this strange new angle. As you saw the spinning platform disappear from your view, your hands clung desperately to the shape moving at full pelt below you, everything happening in such a blur you couldn't make sense of it.

You heard a door slam and lock, and finally the same strong arms that had made you feel welcome in this strange, scary place gently lowered you back to your feet from where you had been resting over Dae-Ho's shoulder.

"I wasn't taking any chances that time." He laughed out with a nervous smile when he saw your awestruck expression. Rather than risk losing you in the crowd again, he'd just held you tightly and ran as fast as he could to the first free room, never looking behind him because he knew he had everything needed with him.

You stared up at his bashful grin, his head shaking apologetically for the rough way he had handled you, feeling the sheer weight of the situation finally sink in. You were safely through another game. Because of him.

"We're safe! You kept us safe!" You cried out excitedly, your heart hammering in your chest at the realisation, your skin tingling with electricity where his hand still rested lightly on your back until he was sure you wouldn't fall.

"I told you I'd keep you safe." He said simply, offering you a small smile that felt so sincere you couldn't stop yourself from crashing your lips against it. Your hands reached over his shoulders to thread through his long black hair, desperately pulling him closer as if in this moment you two were the only people here. Like you would always be safe if you could stay this close.

Not losing a moment Dae-Ho arms wrapped tightly around your waist, lifting your feet off the ground as he dragged you closer, diving into your kiss like it offered him salvation from your solemn surroundings. His teeth nipped against your bottom lip clumsily, all hungry desperation and making the most of every second, shutting out any noise from outside your little room; your little sanctuary, a place where everything would be okay.

As the lock on your door clicked open you both reluctantly parted, unsure if anything so sweet could exist in the rest of this foresaken place. Dae-Ho spoke first, goofy smile plastered across his face where once a worried grimace had been.

"We should go vote to leave, and then maybe I could buy you dinner with my winnings?"

[darkmatilda]

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟𝐟 | 𝐬. 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: spencer takes care of you after a serious accident.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: hospital, rehabilitation, neck and brain injury, nud1ty

𝐚/𝐧: this is one of the potential endings of my fanfiction "with the light off" which officialy remains open up to your own interpretation. this version written to comfort all the hearts i've broken <3

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 11k

Spencer felt embarrassed by how, just an hour after leaving the apartment, he already wanted to call her.

She had already occupied a near-constant presence in the back of his mind, slipping in like a shadow—elusive and playful—darting between his thoughts, flitting from one corner to another whenever he tried, even briefly, to forget about her. But now? After that night they had spent together?

Spencer knew a lot about obsession. He understood the weight of the word and was acutely aware of its gravity. Yet he couldn’t deny it—he was obsessed with her. Physical contact had always been a sensitive yet profoundly significant subject for him. He didn’t allow many people that close. 

For him, touch was the ultimate proof of closeness and trust. Intimacy bred attachment. This wasn’t about desire in its rawest form—it was something else… though he wasn’t entirely sure what. He couldn’t define the bond they shared.

He felt bored, detached from the world when she wasn’t in it, and the only thing keeping him tethered to some semblance of normality was the thought—the imagining—that at this very moment, they were breathing the same air.

He was starting to think he might be losing his mind.

He held off on calling her precisely to avoid coming across as a lunatic in her eyes. He managed to restrain himself only once he was at work, where the seriousness of his profession demanded it. In a way, though, he felt lighter. Throughout the day, he was buoyed by the thought of their upcoming meeting, the excitement it brought—and the nerves. That mixture of emotions was enough to make the entire team glance at him with curiosity.

Garcia was handing out case files, her hair recently dyed a vibrant shade of red. Rossi, instead of opening his folder like everyone else, was watching Spencer from across the table, leaning on his elbow.

“Did you win the lottery or something?” he asked, so unexpectedly that Spencer glanced around at the others, unsure who the question was meant for.

When he realized the question was directed at him, he swallowed hard. Morgan’s raised eyebrow seemed to challenge him to a duel.

“Not that I know of. Why?”

“Because you’re practically glowing, sweetheart,” Penelope chimed in with a sly smile. “Don’t think you’re getting away without telling me everything later. I’ll get it out of you, don’t you worry. But for now, let’s get started…”

They immersed themselves in the case, but a few hours later, during a brief moment of downtime, he realized he was looking for an excuse to call her. Was a simple desire to ask what she was up to reason enough?

He wondered if she was still at his apartment. He hoped she was. He knew she’d eventually have to leave to prepare for the shift she was starting later that afternoon, but he couldn’t shake the unease gnawing at him about the whole situation with her roommate’s ex-boyfriend.

Realizing he’d been staring at his phone for far too long and that he’d soon need to get back to work, he made a snap decision and called.

But no one answered.

Logically, he reasoned that mornings were probably her time to sleep. Afterward, he tried sending a text message. But by late evening, when he finally returned to his apartment, he was starting to feel genuinely worried.

The question nagged at him: could it have been about the previous night? Maybe he’d done or said something wrong, something that had put her off completely?

Slowly, he walked into the bedroom, pausing in the doorway as his eyes landed on the perfectly made bed. It definitely hadn’t looked like that when he left it.

Then his gaze fell on the slightly ajar safe, and he froze. The combination was incredibly complicated, so he must have left it open when he took out his gun and badge. Besides those items, there was one more thing inside.

He had once again fallen into the trap of keeping Dilaudid close, even though he wasn’t using it. Was it possible she found it, and that’s why she hadn’t reached out?

It wasn’t that he had lied to her about being clean. She had seen how much effort it took for him to talk about it, so she approached the subject with incredible subtlety, never asking directly, but watching him closely, carefully, yet without pressing.

If she had really found it in his safe, she might have felt betrayed. Or maybe she decided she didn’t want to get involved with someone who had such a problem. Perhaps she had seen the whole previous night as one big mistake and then decided to throw him out of her life. Spencer, though it pained him, couldn’t help but feel that he deserved it.

He sat on the bed, crushed by his own thoughts. Something didn’t sit right with the version of events he had imagined. First and foremost, she wasn’t the type of person who would turn him away because of this. Her heart ached to help others; she couldn’t ignore someone else’s troubles. Even if he had hurt her, her immense capacity for understanding would have remained intact. Empathy was imprinted on her, like a deep, unshakable mark.

Driven by a hunch, he reached for his phone to call her again. That’s when he noticed two missed calls from an unknown number, just fifteen minutes ago.

He pressed the phone to his ear, his brow furrowing in confusion as he heard the first sound on the other end… a sob?

The sound went on and on, and Spencer was too confused to utter a single word.

“Who am I talking to?” he finally asked. Unable to stop himself, he stood up. He didn’t even know what was going on or who he was talking to, but he sprang to his feet anyway. His body compelled him, his insides twisting with unpleasant spasms.

It could just as well have been some stupid prank. The problem was, it wasn’t.

“H-hey, it’s J-Jude,” a voice came from the other end. Female, shaky, and choked with sobs so severe that if he didn’t already know her name, he would never have guessed he was speaking to her roommate. He stopped pacing the room. “I-it was me…I called earlier. S-she doesn’t have any…any family, and I didn’t know…I didn’t know who to inform…I can’t handle this on my own…they just took her away again…”

It wasn’t as if the world suddenly came to a halt. It simply became both sharper and blurrier at the same time. Spencer could see that single, bright strand of hair on the pillow with perfect clarity, yet his own legs seemed out of reach. When he looked down, all he saw was darkness stretching below him. Somehow, he was still breathing.

“What are you talking about?” he asked. Later, he couldn’t explain how his voice—those first words—had sounded so composed. “W-who took her… where… and why…?

“I have no fucking idea!” she shouted, followed by a long silence during which Jude took a desperate gasp of air. “I mean, I do, I do know! They just brought her in, but... but suddenly they took her back because there was some kind of…bleeding…”

“...ding?” he blurted out, the first syllable swallowed entirely by his panic.

“No, I don’t want anything to calm me down, I am calm, can’t you tell?” Her voice grew distant, as if she’d pulled the phone away from her mouth. Then it came back, clear and pleading. “Please, come here…”

She hung up. The phone slipped from his hand as if it burned him. In a frenzy, he bent down to grab it, only to drop it again. Finally, he fell to his knees, managing at last to pick it up. As he stood, he felt as though some substance was spreading through his brain—black, toxic, and utterly destructive. Its effects left him barely tethered to reality. He could hear and see, but everything was overlaid with Jude’s words, looping in his mind like printed text on a screen.

The next thirty minutes were a blur.

How could it be logically explained that, in a state of complete detachment from the outside world, he somehow managed to figure out, based on the map of the area imprinted in his memory, which specific hospital she was in? How did his panicked, trembling hands manage to cover that distance by car without causing an accident?

The only thing he knew was that he ended up at the nearest hospital, wearing just a shirt with no outer layer. It was shocking that he even had shoes on. 

He should have been looking for the woman who had called him, demanding every bit of information she had. But somehow, instinctively, his eyes searched for someone else—a familiar face. He prayed it was all some sort of misunderstanding. Maybe he was fooling himself, hoping to spot her among the people passing by. A part of him simply refused to accept the possibility that anything could have happened to her.

Nothing had happened.

She was fine.

Her blue eyes were soaking in the surroundings, their gaze carrying that faint sparkle that always appeared at night. Maybe there was even a smile on her lips. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow himself to imagine what might have happened to her. It felt as though the universe itself should be ashamed for ever entertaining the thought of harming her.

"Are you family?" the man at reception asked. Spencer nodded. "I'm sorry, but I can't provide you with any information,"

"Just tell me, is she alive?"

"I can't…"

"Just fucking tell me…"

"They’re operating on her right now," a voice spoke from behind him. Spencer turned and blinked. Only then did he realize he was in a hospital. Before, he’d only had a goal—an urgent need to get there. The surroundings were just beginning to take shape in his mind. He had never seen this woman before, but he guessed it had to be Jude. Her face was swollen from crying, but she seemed less shaken than during their call. She had probably accepted the sedatives. "Again. First, they spent almost four hours working on her neck… they said she was stable, asleep, but then suddenly there was that bleeding… I watched them take her out of the room right in front of me…"

“Did you see her?”

Unexpectedly, she hid her face in her hands.

“I didn’t know who to call. She mentioned you a few times, and I had your number, and I didn’t know what to do…” she began explaining chaotically, as if it mattered at all. “It’s my fault, you know, all of this is my fucking fault…”

They were standing right in front of the receptionist, blocking his access to others who needed help. Spencer snapped back to the moment, pulling her a few steps aside.

“W-what did you say? That they operated on her for four hours?”

“Yes, the first time…”

So, she had been there for at least four hours. Longer, considering the time needed after surgery before visiting a patient. Pain spread across his chest. While he was wondering why she hadn’t answered his calls, coming to various conclusions, she had been fighting for her life?

He... had been at work, moving around, talking to others, living, while all of this was happening? He felt as if... as if he had betrayed her. It was absurd, even he knew that. Despite the state he was in—tragic, to be precise—he understood just how absurd that thought was. But he couldn’t stop the guilt and shame that washed over him every time he tried to imagine her on the operating table while he had been completely unaware of her condition.

“I need to sit down," Jude muttered, and after a moment, they found themselves on narrow chairs lined along the hospital walls. Spencer barely managed to force his knees to bend, his body to settle into the seat.

He was only beginning to adjust to the foreign gravity that was pressing down on him.

In his head, there was only one thought, one resolution, one desire. The only thing that could save him from losing his mind in this waiting room.

"I need to see her."

"We have to wait," Jude replied, pressing her hand to her forehead. More tears appeared in her eyes. She wasn’t just terrified, she was completely falling apart. "We... we once gave each other permission to access information about our health. You know, in case of an accident. The doctors told me everything. A neck sprain. A concussion. Two broken ribs and a broken forearm." Although her speech had been unclear earlier, when she listed the injuries, she sounded like a movie announcer.

Spencer quickly realized that these words must have been echoing in her head since they were first told to her. The same thing had been happening to him. Each word was like a blow delivered with full force, and his extensive medical knowledge wasn’t helping him avoid panic. He was too aware of the danger and too aware of the suffering her poor body must have endured.

They both squeezed their eyes shut tightly. Spencer felt as though his temples might explode. Waiting. Was there anything worse in the world than waiting? Being stuck in ignorance, teetering between uncertainty, relief, and utter despair? Feeling all of it at once?

"How did this even happen?" he asked the woman sitting next to him.

He was sure he already knew the answer to that question. She didn’t even need to say it. It was enough to see how she dropped her gaze, heavy with pain, and how tightly her jaw clenched.

“She... fell down the stairs.”

Spencer wanted to scoff at the understatement. The real version of events couldn’t pass Jude’s lips, but in some way, he considered that a blessing. If Jude had openly admitted that she had been pushed, he might have crumbled under the weight of the fury flooding him. But for now, his anger didn’t matter. Only the passing time did.

He felt as if he hadn’t taken a single breath since leaving his apartment. Leaning his head back in his seat, he endured what felt like two whole days, then glanced at his watch only to realize that exactly forty-seven seconds had passed.

Time—a relative concept. In physics and in human perception. Einstein had proven it, and so had that particular moment.

He started to fear that he might never leave the waiting room. Memories and emotions began to blur together. He formed a theory: that he had been trapped there for quite some time—weeks, perhaps. Back when another loved one had been on the operating table, and he’d been losing his mind in much the same way.

Could it be that, under the strain of this torturous waiting, he’d lost his sanity? That his brain, desperate for relief, had simply imagined everything that followed? The trip to the library that night, finding himself at her door, the string lights on the Christmas tree, the Venus flytrap, the bar, opening the door that night and seeing her on the stairwell—at once flushed from a night spent at the club and chilled from the December air?

And now that illusion had simply shattered, like a fragment of broken glass. He was back in the waiting room again, waiting, hurting too much—and yet feeling as though he had no right to. His pain was nothing compared to what she was going through. He should be doing something, anything, to make himself useful, to not succumb to the weight of his own helplessness.

When the doctor finally approached them, Spencer almost knocked over his chair in his haste to stand. The doctor, however, focused solely on Jude as he delivered the update, leaving Spencer questioning whether he even existed.

“We managed to stop the bleeding. That’s the good news,” he began, his dark eyes unreadable—at once cool and concerned, with the practiced composure characteristic of people in his profession.

“Thank God,” Jude whispered, rubbing her chest as if trying to calm the frantic beating of her heart.

Spencer, on the other hand, felt no relief. Not even a sliver.

"‘That’s good news,’" he repeated the doctor’s words, drawing the man’s gaze to him. ‘But… but is there something bad?’

That brief moment before the doctor answered felt longer than nearly the past two hours of waiting.

“Due to suspected brain swelling, we had to induce a coma.’

“What?’ Jude mouthed silently. “How… how could she be in a coma? Why? Was that necessary?’

“They needed to reduce the intracranial pressure,’ Spencer replied, the words spilling from his mouth without him even realizing he was speaking. ‘The coma prevents further damage and minimizes the brain’s oxygen consumption. But will she… how long will she…?’

“Only for a few days,’ the doctor assured him, understanding the question he couldn’t quite form. “As long as there are no further complications or additional bleeding. But I can reassure you for now: there’s no indication of that. Her condition seems stable. She was… incredibly lucky. It was a serious accident—a miracle, a sheer miracle—that she didn’t break her spine.’"

For a moment, he couldn’t utter a single word, his throat still tight, and the relief never came. He knew he wouldn’t feel it until he saw her, fully conscious and awake. Until that happened, he would grimace every time he heard the word miracle. 

"When will I be able to see her?" he asked, surprisingly calm and composed. The question was so important to him that his voice didn’t tremble even once. In fact, it was the only thing that mattered right now.

"You’ll need to wait a few hours before visiting. We have to make sure there’s no risk of a sudden deterioration in her condition. Also, only authorized individuals can visit her."

The last part of the doctor’s statement felt almost like a slap in the face.

"How many hours?" he pressed, impatience creeping into his voice. "Two? Four? Six?"

"Please, calm down," the doctor asked, making a gesture with his hand.

“Eight?”

His voice grew increasingly sharp, desperately demanding an answer. The doctor opened his mouth to respond, but Jude interrupted with a question.

"As an authorized person, can I, on behalf of the patient, allow him to visit?" she asked, catching Spencer’s gaze for a brief moment before quickly turning away. "She would want this, I know it."

The doctor shook his head in refusal, providing them with a few more details about the surgery before turning to leave. Spencer watched him leave, something in him wavering between a sigh and a snort. So they wouldn’t even let him visit her? He understood the hospital procedures and rules perfectly well, but when it came to his own case, he hated them with all his heart. They wouldn’t allow him to see someone who meant so much to him, simply because they weren’t bound by blood or a ring on his finger. A ring on his finger… maybe he should lie and say they were engaged?  Although, would it really make any difference in the eyes of the hospital staff?

Before the loose fragments in his mind began to form a plan, he noticed that Jude was staring at him. She had sat down again, pressing her back tightly against the chair's backrest. She hadn’t cried for a while now; a certain relief had settled on her face when she heard the surgery had been successful, but then the old devastation returned, stronger than ever before.

"I won’t be able to visit her," she said, her voice hollow. "Not even while she’s unconscious. And when she wakes up, look her in the eyes. Tell me, how could I do that after everything? After all of this was my fault?"

Spencer turned away and walked off.

He knew that if he didn’t, something inside him would break. He couldn’t stop the anger he felt toward Jude. From what he knew, she had repeatedly refused to report her ex-boyfriend to the police, perhaps more or less aware of the danger he posed. She had the right to do so, theoretically. But that didn’t change the fact that someone else had suffered because of her foolish decision.

In his eyes she deserved the guilt she felt.

Not knowing what to do with himself, he found a place far from her, far from anyone, where he spent the next few hours, hardly moving. Sometimes he observed the relatives of other patients in the hospital, also broken, but he had some selfish feeling that even they wouldn’t understand what he felt. He placed himself on some distant, elite orbit of suffering and felt almost embarrassed by it. 

Pain always makes sure that a person feels as lonely and misunderstood as possible in it. That is when it has the most power over them.

He kept away from the windows, the darkness outside, slowly losing its intensity, putting him into a state of shock and contemplation. Maybe time was a relative concept, but that didn’t change the fact that it existed. Somewhere far away, there was light beyond this waiting room.

For some time now, he had been occupied with a certain task. He was aware of the hours passing and how, with them, his desperation grew. He felt he would go mad if he didn’t see her. The designated time during which the patient should be ensured complete rest after surgery had ended, yet he knew they wouldn’t let him in to see her. But he had a brain for a reason, right?"

He found the room where everything that mattered to him at that moment was. A young doctor was just leaving.

"Excuse me, ma'am,” he approached her politely, trying to appear calm, though his appearance and trembling hands clearly suggested otherwise. “I need to visit this patient.”

“Are you a relative?”

“No, actually…” He knew this was a desperate move and resorting to a lie, but he didn’t care. What was morality in his situation? Just a word. He reached for the badge he had with him and cleared his throat. “I’m with the FBI. I’ve been assigned to see this particular patient; it’s a matter that cannot be delayed."

Believe it or not, but people often lost their minds at the mere mention of the FBI. Spencer suspected that such a young doctor might have some gaps in experience and not know what procedures were in place in such a situation.

The surprised woman took a half step back.

“But she’s in a coma…” she said uncertainly, turning toward the room. “Are you sure it’s this patient?”

“Absolutely. And as I said, there’s no time to waste.”

He didn’t put his badge away, still holding it raised, with a serious expression on his face, as if he were interrogating someone. It was clear she was torn with doubt, but fortunately for him, she decided to give in without consulting the decision.

Spencer almost ran into the room, unable to hold back his impatience any longer. At first, he felt as if in a dream, one where you achieve your greatest goal. However, it quickly turned into a nightmare, all because of what he saw.

Whatever he had imagined, he was not prepared for this sight. 

Especially because before he even noticed her face, the face he was so desperate to see, he first noticed everything else surrounding it. The hospital equipment, the machines and devices monitoring her vital signs. The wide orthopedic collar tight around her neck. The sterile whiteness of it all, obscuring her and making her almost disappear against its backdrop. It wasn’t until he approached the bed, his legs weak and unsteady, that he started to look at her, but again, not specifically at her, but at the injuries. The sight of swollen temples, the sunken eyes, pale and dry lips, skin like a sheet of paper. Every injury on her body caused him unimaginable pain, so intense it almost stopped him from breathing. He felt so much anger and injustice that she had to go through this that he almost wanted to fall to his knees and apologize to her, beg for forgiveness. For what? He couldn’t decide. It wasn’t a need driven by logic, it was something deep inside him.

And that’s what he did, even though there was a place beside the bed where he could sit. He slowly knelt down, his hands touching the edge of the bed, but not her body. After all, he wasn’t about to risk causing her any pain due to his lack of control. But he had such an overwhelming desire to take her hand, the one whose fingers shyly peeked out from under the cast.

"I should have gone with you," he said, after about five minutes spent in complete silence, undisturbed even by his breath, which he was holding back. "I should have. Walked you to the door and made sure you got inside safely. I’m sorry…"

He felt that with his pitiful apologies, he was disturbing her peace. She needed it to fully rest. So, he fell silent again, alternating between looking at her with furrowed brows in tender concern and resting his forehead against the edge of the bed whenever the sight became too painful. While before, time seemed to crawl at the slowest possible pace, now it was racing forward wildly.

In his perception, barely a minute had passed when someone’s presence appeared behind him. He turned over his shoulder, noticing the young nurse who had let him in, and it took him a long time before he even realized it. After all, he had lied to her, saying it was some professional matter, yet she had found him kneeling by the hospital bed.

He quickly got to his feet, nervously rubbing his face.

“For the patient’s well-being, no visits should last longer than twenty minutes,” the woman said surprisingly gently, leaning slightly against the door with her shoulder. An unidentified expression lingered in her eyes, making them seem...warm.

He didn’t answer, just nodded. He no longer felt the need to play that little charade that had helped him get inside. He allowed himself one last long moment, looking at her face, peaceful in sleep. He passed the doctor in the doorway, feeling her eyes turn to him, and he did the same, out of curiosity. She smiled, sadly and with compassion.

"This had nothing to do with any FBI assignment, right?”

Her understanding seemed almost touching. However, Spencer, caught in the moment, quickly withdrew, once again making his way down the hospital corridors, now completely unsure of what to do with himself. He leaned against one of the walls, slowly feeling the fatigue from the entire night spent waiting to see her. He found his phone in his pocket, realized it was already morning, and that… Hotch had called him.

It was a quick collision with the outside world. He called back, as nothing else came to mind that he could focus on.

"Reid," the serious voice of his boss came through on the other end. "Why aren’t you at work, and why aren’t you answering?"

He needed to take a breath before he could respond.

"Sorry, Hotch," he said, trying not to sound weak, but that’s exactly how he sounded. Weak, a little pitiful, and on the verge of exhaustion. "Something... something really important happened, and... I... I won’t be able to come in today..."

Spencer realized he had no idea how to explain himself in this situation.

"I can’t remember the last day you were even late. What happened?" He didn’t answer. "Where are you?" Silence. "Spencer."

"It’s... a personal matter."

There was a brief silence from his boss, and Spencer could almost imagine how he furrowed his dark brows in confusion.

"I understand." His voice was tense, but not with disapproval, which surprised Spencer. More with... concern. Had he managed to read the seriousness of the situation just from his voice? Probably, after all, he was the best profiler Spencer knew. "You’ll need to explain later, but for now... take care of yourself. Do you need any help?”

He assured him insincerely that everything was fine and found an empty chair to sit in, hunched over. A strong pressure formed in his head, amplified by the helplessness and uncertainty about what he should do next. She was in a coma, and according to the doctor, she would be in it for the next few days. And what was he supposed to do during that time? He felt that physically, he could spend another hundred hours on that specific chair. Occasionally stretching his legs. It was his plan, one that seemed more real with every passing minute. At least, until a figure cast its shadow over him.

"Reid," a familiar voice spoke.

He looked up, surprised, at Morgan. His mouth was slightly open in confusion, his forehead deeply furrowed.

"What are you doing here?"

"How... how did you know where I was?" That was the first thing that came to his mind.

"Penelope. How she knew, I have no idea, but I’m starting to suspect that her joke about having us all chipped wasn’t really a joke. But anyway, what’s going on? Hotch told me you called, and you sounded... unsettling."

His friend was watching him closely. His wrinkled clothes, his tired face.

"So... Hotch sent you to find me?"

"Reid, you’re our friend. Did you really think we wouldn’t be worried about you?"

Spencer lowered his head, listening to his words. Derek was silent for a moment, his hands resting on his hips, his tense face scanning the surroundings. After a while, he focused his gaze back on him.

"Who is the person you’re visiting?"

He hesitated before answering, not because he didn’t want to share the information, but because he wasn’t sure how to refer to her. What should he call her? After all, it wasn’t like they were in an official relationship, and the word friend seemed to leave something unsaid.

“Someone... someone very important to me. She had an accident. She has... a cervical spine injury, and the doctors, suspecting brain swelling, decided to put her into a coma for a while.”

Morgan's eyes widened.

“Damn, Reid. I’m so... I’m so sorry.”

He sat down on the empty chair beside him, his face still showing shock. Exhausted, Spencer simply rested his head on his knees, no longer able to keep his posture straight. He felt drained, yet at the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to leave—couldn’t leave her…

Morgan’s hand fell onto his back, and finally, then sighed.

“Come here, man.”

With a firm pull, he drew him into an embrace.

Spencer found it hard to admit, even to himself, how much he needed this. No words left their mouths for a long while; only that brotherly, supportive embrace remained between them.

“Have you seen her?” Morgan asked after a while.

He confirmed, but didn’t reveal the circumstances. His friend paused for a moment, as if he wanted to say something but hesitated.

“Okay, listen to me. You need to get back to yourself.”

Spencer scoffed and shook his head, ready to argue.

“Let me finish. I know you don’t want to leave her right now, but with all due respect, you look like death. You need to eat and get some sleep.”

“I can’t,” Spencer replied firmly.

“You’re going to collapse soon. You said she’ll be in a coma for a few days. You won’t make it sitting here, think realistically. No one’s asking you to go back to work, you just need to rest.” He looked at him seriously, knowing how hard it would be to convince him. Finally, he sighed once more. “Do it for her, alright? Do you really think she’d want you to wear yourself out like this?”

He had no ready answer for that. Well, he did, but it sounded like no, she wouldn’t want that.

“I’ll take you home. For God’s sake, you came here without even a coat?”

It's a strange feeling to let someone take care of you. Completely. Derek not only drove him to his apartment but also came inside with him. There was no emotional discussion between them, which he found to be a relief. Silent support, he thought.

His relationship with the other team members had been tested after Emily's death—or at least, that's what he had thought up until now. He had begun isolating himself, not wanting to intrude on their grief or burden them with his own problems. But in reality—something he hadn’t seen until now—it had been the opposite. It strengthened their bond.

The next few days revolved mainly around hospital visits. Somehow, he had managed to gain visiting rights, and the time spent by her side filled him with a certain sense of calm. He could see how stable her vital signs were, and he clung to the doctors’ reassurances that she would regain consciousness in just a few days.

He once read a series of articles and interviews with people who had been in comas. Their accounts sometimes contradicted medical facts and often included embellishments, but a significant number of them mentioned remembering the voices of loved ones and certain sounds.

He didn’t want her to remember only the sounds of medical equipment from this period. But he also wasn’t sure what he could talk to her about. Would she want to hear about the overly salted carbonara that Garcia had forced an entire pot of on him? Or about the abstract mural being painted across from his apartment—something he was sure she would have liked?

In the end, he decided to read to her, though choosing what to read proved challenging. Sleeping Beauty seemed too ironic, even though she would probably laugh about it later. She had once told him Girl, Interrupted was her favorite book, but its hospital setting made him suspect she might prefer something that let her escape this place, even if only in her imagination. The Silence of the Lambs referenced one of their past conversations, but if a doctor overheard him reading it to her, he would surely be banned from visiting altogether.

“All right,” he began one day, sitting down in the chair by her bed. “I know you’re not a big fan of fantasy. And yes, you’ll have every right to call me out on this when you wake up. But still, I hope you’ll like it.”

Arabian Nights was a collection of tales and stories originating from the Middle East, India, and Persia. Somehow, he assumed that the mysterious, often nocturnal atmosphere might resonate with her, even soothe her. After all, night had always been her favorite time of day—the backdrop to so much of her life.

That day, as he was about to leave, he leaned slightly over her bed, lowering his voice to a whisper.

"Tomorrow, I'll read you a romance, how does that sound? But I’ll have to go to the bookstore because, despite your beliefs, I don’t have any in my collection. I wish I’d had more time to get to know your reading preferences better."

During none of his previous visits had he touched her, afraid it might disturb her peace in some negative way. Besides... in the state she was in, she looked so fragile and delicate that he feared even the slightest touch could hurt her. But that time, he simply couldn’t hold back. After a long internal struggle, he placed a very brief kiss on her forehead.

Spencer couldn’t keep his promise. While he did buy a romance novel recommended to him with enthusiasm by a young bookstore clerk, he never had the chance to read it to her.

The next day, he received a message. 

She had woken up. 

*

You didn’t remember much.

Only fragmented scraps. The memories began with a brief moment of complete physical helplessness, a terrible pain in your neck, and a series of flashing lights mingling with raised voices—even shouting. Then came silence, vile and terrifying.

But that wasn’t the end. Something came after the silence.

Softly spoken stories. For some reason, they were comforting. In your mind, only a few blurred images remained—no clear events or words. What you remembered most was that soothing, calm voice. It felt like an embrace, like warm bedding, the first rays of cosmic light piercing through clouds, or the gentle chill of evening air.

It was… beautiful. But it couldn’t last forever. After an indeterminate amount of time, your body decided to reject that comfort and tried to open its eyes. It was an excruciating effort. You sighed with the strain. The first colors and surreal shapes began to appear before you. Slowly, you started to become aware of your existence, yet at the same time, you felt suspended somewhere outside your body and mind—alone and terrified.

The sensations were both faint and overwhelmingly intense, making you want to hide, to somehow cut yourself off from them. Yet you were equally afraid to close your eyes again. You muttered things that made no sense. You remained in this panicked state until two tiny brown points hovered above you, widening with concern. Only then were you able to calm down—at least enough to stop straining your body with attempts to move. Attempts, because your body seemed entirely unwilling to follow your commands.

The fear buried itself deep within you, drilling into your chest. At first, it suffocated you, but eventually, it began to weaken and fade.

This was how the first hours after waking from the coma unfolded.

Weakness, disorientation, mumbling, pain, discomfort, and light sensitivity.

It took a long time before you regained awareness of being in a hospital. Even more time passed before you remembered why. And then, your own condition and state.

You were so incredibly weak that it filled you with disgust, terrified by how much effort even the smallest movement required—like the twitch of a finger or the blink of an eye. Frustrated by it all, you cried, and he cried too. But his tears were born of relief and joy.

Those two specific emotions reached you the latest—only after they transferred you to a different ward, and your thoughts began to clear. Relief and joy. Hand in hand with fear and anxiety. 

It felt so unreal, yet it was real—real like nothing else, and it held you tightly, exactly the way you needed it to.

*

Spencer was aware that her awakening was just another step in a very long journey.

His medical knowledge, modestly speaking, was fairly extensive, and he understood the gravity of the injuries she had sustained. Their first meeting after she had opened her eyes for the first time was nothing like a scene from a movie. She was confused, still drowsy, and as she slowly started to comprehend everything, she was primarily terrified. Her body, after the time spent in the coma, though brief, was extremely weak, and every little movement exhausted her as though she had just run a marathon.

The fear on her face pierced his chest.

He had the impression that none of the words he spoke, almost whispered in an attempt to calm her, were having any effect.

"I... I can't move," she stammered as one of the first things she said. Her eyes intensely focused on his face, searching for safety in it, and he feared he wouldn't be able to provide it for her.

"It's just temporary," he reassured her gently, leaning over her bed and trying to smile, but it came out uncertain, he was too worried about her condition. "The doctors say so, and that's the truth. Your body is just very weak right now."

"Will... will it be like this forever?"

"No, no, it will pass. I promise, it will pass," he nodded fervently. She hesitated and took a breath, as though discovering an entirely new action. But as soon as she did, out of fear, it became fast and irregular. He was terrified that his touch might cause her pain, but he didn't know what else he could do to help her. Gently, as gently as he could, he placed his hand on her cheek, barely grazing it with his thumb. "You'll feel better soon. Really, it won’t be long now. For now... just don’t overexert yourself, please, breathe."

At first, she flinched. He wanted to withdraw his hand as quickly as possible, but then he felt her press her face against it, almost nuzzling into it. A shy tear danced in one of her eyes, barely noticeable.

"It’s good to see you," she said after a brief silence, a soft sigh escaping her lips—almost like a laugh, though it didn’t quite make it. Her breath was still shallow and uneven, but with each passing moment, it seemed to steady as he held her close.

And in that moment, seeing her like that, feeling her presence so close, a smile spread across his face—a smile so genuine, so long-awaited—and with it came the tears he’d been holding back for what felt like forever.

"I feel the same," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "You have no idea how much."

*

The orthopedic collar pissed you off like nothing else.

It wasn’t even the discomfort that bothered you, it was just... the collar was such a painful reminder of your condition, a testament to what you had been through. And you were supposed to wear it for another six to eight weeks.

Two weeks after waking from the coma, preparations for leaving the hospital were beginning. The risk of brain swelling had subsided, the injuries were healing, and the concussion still made its presence known, but the pain was no longer as intense. You could even have a normal conversation, which you seized almost immediately, striking up a chat with the teenage girl in the bed next to you, her sad expression tugging at your heart.

Few people visited you; you preferred that the two most important ones could spend as much time with you as possible, rather than inviting coworkers or acquaintances you hadn’t spoken to in months. The two most important people.

Spencer had been with you since the moment you woke up, and as the doctor confessed to you with a small smile, he had also stayed by your side while you were in a coma. You were in shock. Not because he had done it—it made perfect sense, given his caring nature. The shock came from the simple fact that one person could care so deeply about another, about you.

It didn’t take long for you to realize that the moments when he visited you became your favorite part of the entire day. And not just because they revolved around checking your condition, tests, and the first, incredibly light rehabilitation exercises. You simply found yourself waiting for the moment he would appear in that doorway again, holding his coat in hand, smiling.

"Hello, handsome stranger," you greeted him one day, the first day you were starting to feel better.

 Spencer stopped at the sound of that term, tilting his head with an even wider smile.

 "How else did I used to call you?" you mused aloud. "Ah, I used to call you Mr. Mysterious. But I suppose that's no longer fitting, you smile too much to seem mysterious."

 "Because I have a reason," he replied, stopping beside your bed and glancing at the flowers placed there, the ones that had greeted you when you woke up that day. "But in that case, 'Handsome stranger' doesn’t fit either, since you know me now."

"But you are handsome. Half of it fits, so I have the right to call you that. Who... who sent me these flowers?"

"Better question would be, who didn’t send you those?" he muttered, referring to their large number. You could only admire them—the beautiful, colorful arrangements—but you hadn’t had the chance to read the notes and messages attached. Spencer glanced at one of them, his smile fading, though not in a bad way... somehow, the expression that appeared on his face was even more pleasing than his smile. "This... this one’s from my team."

You were simply speechless.

 "They... they even know I exist?"

 "Of course they do, how could they not?" Spencer paused for a moment, looking at you thoughtfully. "They... they were with me the whole time you were in a coma. They helped me keep my head together."

 "Don’t exaggerate," you tried to dispel the sudden serious mood. You didn’t want to delude yourself into thinking he had been that worried about you during that time. 

 "It’s not an exaggeration," he replied briefly and seriously, his face almost motionless.

For a moment, you fell silent, your hands resting on the blanket in front of you.

 "Sorry, Spencer. I just realized I’ve never thanked you for this..."

"What?" he asked, surprised, his brows furrowing. "This isn’t something you have to thank me for..."

"But I feel like I have to. This... this isn’t some small, silly favor. You really did so much for me... I still don’t fully understand why..."

 "You don’t understand why?"

"Yeah," you sighed uncertainly, not sure how to put it into words. "Don’t get me wrong... I’m so grateful to you, it’s just... look at it this way. We didn’t know each other that long, we saw each other rarely. We slept together once. It’s not like you were…obligated to help me."

"I didn’t have to be obligated to do it," he said after a moment of hesitation, circling your bed and sitting on the edge, just barely touching it. "And I didn’t have to know you for years. I just wanted to do it because of how much I cared about you. And if that explanation doesn’t convince you... then..." He swallowed hard. "Remember, you were there for me during one of the worst moments of my life."

“It’s not the same...”

 “Oh, but it is. For me, it is. But I don’t want you to think that I was there for you because I felt like I owed you something. Or that I had to... I don’t know... repay you in some way. That’s not it at all.”

You didn’t answer, something tight gripped your throat. You just tilted your head, overwhelmed with emotion, speechless. The only thing you truly wanted to do was stretch out your arms and drape them around his neck, resting your chin on his shoulder. Spencer sighed, surprised and tense. It wasn’t until a brief moment passed that his hands gently touched your back.

“How much longer are you going to act like I’m made of glass?” you asked.

You knew his caution was justified, but Jesus. You just really wanted to hug him properly.

“Probably forever,” he replied, to which you rolled your eyes.

He was the one to break the hug, but in compensation, he quickly kissed the top of your head. You leaned back against the bed, feeling a pleasant sensation in your stomach. Spencer returned to the flowers to tell you who had sent them all.

“So these are from my team,” he picked up the lost thread, pointing to the arrangement of white and pink carnations. He chuckled. “And I’m pretty sure Penelope picked them out, not just because her name is listed first. White represents perseverance and strength. Pink stands for admiration and respect.”

“That’s really thoughtful. And beautiful. I’ll have to thank them. And these tulips?”

Spencer took the note attached to the mentioned flowers between his fingers.

“From... Jerry.”

“What? My husband sent me flowers?”

 “What?” He jerked his head up in surprise.

You laughed so hard at the look on his face that it made you wince in your ribs.

 “I’m fucking kidding, you fool,” you replied, clutching your side with a groan. “Jerry is the librarian. You should know him. He once asked me what flowers he should buy for his wife, and I suggested yellow tulips. By the way, it's so nice of him”.

You said it affectionately, but it sounded incredibly weak. Along with the pain in your ribs, a headache joined in, and suddenly all the energy you'd had earlier evaporated.

“What's happening? Should I call a doctor?”

“No,” you shook your head in refusal. “I just need to lie down for a moment. Come here.”

Spencer followed your request and sat beside your bed, his body a little stiff, as if in guilt.

"I'm sorry I made you laugh."

"That's probably the strangest thing you could apologize for," you muttered, lying down in the position that was best for your neck, one you almost hated as much as the orthopedic collar. "Well, I guess I could come up with something stranger. Sorry I left that million dollars in your nightstand. It won't happen again."

"I'm not sure if this kind of chatter is particularly good for your condition."

"It helps me mentally, and that's what matters most. Besides, stop complaining."

"How could I possibly dare?"

He fell silent, simply watching you with quiet concern. You closed your eyes for a moment, unsure if you might accidentally drift off. After spending a week in a coma, your sleep routine had become completely erratic. You slept through the nights, mostly because there was little else to do, and you didn’t want to disturb the other patients in the ward. During the day, Spencer would visit, and you wanted to be as rested as possible when he was around.

When he wasn’t there, you sometimes napped during the day as well. According to the doctors, it was one of the best things you could do for your recovery—sleep and rest as much as your body needed.

"Is something bothering you?" he asked.

You hesitated for a long moment, because yes, something was weighing heavily on your mind. Had he guessed, or had he read it on your face?

“It’s just…” you began with a sigh. “You know Jude barely visits me? I mean, she shows up every day, but… she’s so tense and distant when she’s here. She doesn’t say much, and she won’t look me in the eyes.”

"She’s blaming herself," Spencer said softly.

“God, that’s so stupid,” you muttered.

You had a strange relationship with the accident. You thought about it as little as possible, keeping it at arm’s length. You knew Richard had been arrested, but you didn’t want to know the details of his sentencing. In no way did you see any of it as Jude’s fault, and it hurt you deeply to think that she did.

You spent a quiet moment together before Spencer leaned over you again, intending to kiss your forehead.

“I’m sorry, but I’ll have to go now,” he said, to which you nodded in understanding.

But then you shifted your head, pulling back just enough to stop him from brushing his lips against your forehead. He looked at you, puzzled, since you’d never minded it before.

This time, though, you wanted him to kiss you on the lips.

He kissed you slowly. You had almost forgotten how he tasted.

After that, you didn’t bother opening your eyes again. You let yourself imagine that he wasn’t leaving at all, and with that comforting thought, you drifted off to sleep.

*

Spencer had felt strange since the morning.

 Energized and excited. In the absolute best possible way.

That day, he could finally take her home. Well, to his apartment. She needed someone to take care of her, and he felt honored to be that person.

The day before, he had made a very important, yet difficult decision. He invited JJ over and confessed everything to her—about the past few weeks and his struggles with relapsing into addiction. He needed to rid himself of that burden. Besides, he had promised himself that as long as she was living with him, not even the smallest dose of Dilaudid would find its way inside. Never again.

In his worst moments, he imagined that his friend would react with disgust—pure, painful disgust—and push him away. Instead, her eyes filled with something strange the moment he began to speak about how he had felt after Emily's death. Over and over, she whispered apologies, as though she were the one responsible for it.

He still missed Emily, of course, and he knew he would always miss her. That was just the way of things—people left, and it was up to you to decide whether you would remember them with heartbreaking despair or with a wistful sigh. In fact, these were merely two ends of the same spectrum, and it was very easy to get stuck at the beginning, unable to move forward.

She was surprisingly quiet in the car and seemed depressed. Actually, it was hard not to blame her. She had spent a long time in the hospital, gotten used to that routine, and the change made her feel lost. Sitting in the passenger seat, she kept her gaze fixed ahead, but not on the road. She couldn’t see where they were headed, which made it difficult for Spencer to tell her something… at least important.

 When they stopped, she furrowed her brow in surprise.

 “Why are we here?”

They were parked under his apartment, and she had been under the impression they were heading to her place.

 “Sorry, I should’ve told you earlier, I really apologize,” Spencer blurted out in one breath, chaotically. “I absolutely realize that this is like putting you in a situation you didn’t expect, but… but when you were in the hospital, Jude found herself a new roommate. She didn’t really know how to tell you, but she had to do it because she couldn’t afford the rent on her own.”

For a long moment, she stared at him in silence, her face a mixture of shock, followed by understanding. She took a deep breath.

 “Okay,” she muttered. “I understand her, I just… I don’t understand why she didn’t tell me this herself.”

Their relationship still remained deeply complicated, put to the test by guilt. Spencer couldn’t say much about it. It was something between the two of them, and he hardly knew Jude at all.

 “I’m also sorry for asking you this so late,” he continued after a moment. “But… you can’t live alone, you know that. Someone… someone needs to be with you over the next few weeks and… I’m willing to be that person.”

Her lips remained slightly parted for a moment.

“You want… no, wait, you want me to move in with you?” It was clearly a rhetorical question, because before he could answer, she started shaking her head. “Spencer, I can’t. I can’t be that burden for you.”

“A burden? You’re not…”

“But I will be. In the next few weeks, I definitely will be.”

He took his hands off the steering wheel, placing them loosely on his knees.

“Can you… can you look at me for a moment?” he asked.

It took a moment before she hesitantly met his gaze. Her eyes were filled with embarrassed tears, tears full of unjust shame. Seeing this, pain spread through his chest.

“If the accident hadn’t happened, would you want to live with me?”

 Her lips remained pressed together, and she sighed.

 “It’s a big decision. Aside from the fact that if it weren’t for the accident, I wouldn’t even have to consider this option…”

“I just want to know if you would want to. Don’t think of it as an option, just as… a completely normal, life decision. Do you think you’d be able to handle having me around every day?”

She couldn’t help it, and her lips curled into a slight smile.

“We could try,” she finally replied.

Spencer straightened his arms.

“In that case, let’s go inside.”

 “No, wait, it’s not that simple! My opinion shouldn’t matter; it’s you who needs to think about whether you want this…”

 “I do.”

She snorted, resigned, not knowing what else to say.

“I can’t even tie my own shoes,” she tried one last time.

“I’ll gladly do it for you. What’s more, I know all kinds of knots. Simple, sailor’s, Chinese…”

“Spencer Reid, you’re impossible.”

For the rest of the day, she tried every possible way to talk him out of his decision. But when she finally accepted it, she struggled to accept his help with tasks she couldn’t do on her own.

 It wasn’t until later that he realized how much she had been pretending in the hospital. He had only seen her for a fraction of her day, and she seemed so positive then. But this temporary disability had really taken a toll on her mentally. He could repeat and assure her, completely sincerely, that she wasn’t a burden to him, but deep down, she still believed otherwise.

So, when two days later, she timidly appeared in the bedroom doorway with the question of whether he could help her wash her hair, Spencer felt like he had won the lottery.

“Sure,” he agreed, probably a bit too enthusiastically, jumping to his feet so quickly that he almost tripped.

She pretended not to notice.

In the bathroom, he slowly helped her pull the shirt over her head, careful not to catch it on the collar still around her neck or accidentally cause her any pain. 

“Be careful not to tilt your head too much, okay?” he asked, wetting her hair with the showerhead. She closed her eyes when a few drops of water splashed onto them. “Sorry!”

“For god's sake, Spencer, you're doing it more carefully than I would have done myself.”

It was true; he was acting as if he were performing some task at work that required absolute precision. He shrugged, massaging the strawberry shampoo into her hair. Foam quickly appeared, smelling sweet.

Suddenly, her hands tightened around the front of his shirt.

“Sorry,” she whispered, loosening her grip. “I got a little dizzy.”

Spencer immediately pressed his hands, still covered in shampoo, to her waist, afraid she might fall. He stared at her face for a long moment, waiting for the dizziness to pass.

And just then, her body suddenly went limp, falling forward.

Terrified, he let out a strangled cry.

“Hold on, please, don’t fall!” he kept repeating, doing everything he could to keep her upright.

Her hands hung limply on his shoulders, the foam and water soaking into his shirt, but he didn’t care at all.

“I’m right here, hold on to me as much as you can. C-c-can you hear me at all?”

He wondered whether it would be better to stand her up or lay her down while he could get to the phone and call an ambulance, when suddenly her weak touch grew stronger, and she let out a soft groan.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t you dare apologizing. I’m still holding you, can you hear me?”

His heart was pounding incredibly fast as she gently pulled her head away from his chest. He, of course, didn’t let her stand on her own, constantly supporting her body, protecting her from a fall that could be disastrous.

Together, they left the shower cabin, her hair still covered in foam.

“Are you aware that this is how it’s going to look now?” she asked seriously.

Completely unfazed, he wiped the foam from her forehead, which was dangerously close to her eyes.

“I’d rather have you lose consciousness in my bathroom, right next to me, than risk… I don’t know, cracking your head open.”

For a moment, she was silent, the color beginning to return to her pale face, her gaze becoming more alert. He had a strange feeling that she was about to start crying, and since he really didn’t want that, he pulled her close again, in his usual protective gesture. Everything around them smelled of strawberries.

“Do you really have to be this good?”

Spencer snorted.

“I’m afraid it’s just my curse.”

*

“Are these people really arguing about whether a cucumber is a fruit or a vegetable?”

Sitting on the couch, you jumped when a voice spoke right behind you. At the last second, you caught your laptop before it slipped off your lap. You had been reading some absurd discussion on an online forum you stumbled upon completely by accident. And yes, these users were indeed arguing about whether a cucumber is a fruit or a vegetable.

“Damn it, Spencer!” you shouted, putting your hand over your heart, which was pounding in an agitated rhythm. You looked at your boyfriend with a scowl. “You almost gave me a heart attack. How is it possible I didn’t hear you come in?”

He shrugged. Leaning his elbows on the back of the couch, the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt revealed the skin of his forearms. In that position, he had a perfect view of the screen on your laptop. He had just returned from work, a rainy July evening, his hair slightly damp.

“I wasn’t sneaking around. You must’ve just been lost in thought. Want to tell me what’s occupying that beautiful mind of yours?” He leaned in to place a kiss on your temple.

“Beautiful mind, huh?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Just a few days ago, you told me that if a 19th-century priest heard even one thought from my head, he’d go into anaphylactic shock. Whatever that was supposed to mean.”

"In a big simplification, what I meant is that even though I love you, sometimes your way of thinking scares me."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"By the way, I bought land for Alexander."

Alexander was your new flycatcher, which had grown so much that it completely prevented the other flowers on the windowsill from growing. Due to its conqueror tendencies, you decided to name it after one of them.

"Do you want to repot it into a new pot now...?"

"No. Now you need to come to me."

You set the laptop aside and waited for him to take a seat on the couch. Before fully snuggling into him, you untied and removed the tie from his neck, then unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt, just the way you liked.

You sighed almost instantly; his body was more comfortable than a pillow. Warm, with your favorite scent. You rested your head on his chest as his fingers gently combed through your hair.

In the first few weeks after you were discharged from the hospital, you couldn’t even sleep in the same bed. There was a risk that, in his sleep, he might accidentally bump into your neck and cause damage. Spencer enforced that rule strictly, as he did with every precaution related to your health.

Six months had passed since the accident, and for the past four months, you hadn’t worn a neck brace or needed help with daily tasks. But that didn’t change the fact that, sometimes, when you showered together, he would wash your hair just like he used to. Anyway, you were still attending rehabilitation and would need to for a long time, but despite that, you felt like you had fully returned to normal life.

You lifted yourself slightly to look at his face.

"I was walking to the bar today," you began.

You’d been considering going back to work for a while now, and the doctors had assured you there was no reason you couldn’t. You wanted something to occupy your hands and craved the sense of purpose that came with a task. You’d mentioned it to Spencer long ago, so he didn’t seem surprised when you brought it up.

"And? Will they take you back?"

"No. I mean, it’s not that they don’t want to, I just didn’t get there. That’s why I said I was walking and not that I went to a bar. Are you following?"

"I'm trying."

"So, listen to this. I took the subway and got off at that station near the room I used to rent."

The landlord had asked for the keys back shortly after your accident. Your arrangement had been that, in exchange for using the space, you cleaned it daily. Of course, you hadn’t been able to keep up with that anymore.

"...And I don't know, I was overwhelmed by this strange feeling, like I wanted to go back to it. Helping people."

"You help people all the time," Spencer reminded you. "All our neighbors come to you to vent about everything happening in their lives."

"That's true, but I mean, you know, professional help," you said, taking a deeper breath. You couldn't decide whether you were more excited or nervous about the decision. "I've been thinking about going back to uni, Spencer."

He straightened up, almost causing you to slide off his chest. Filled with tension, you watched his reaction closely. You’d spent the entire day wondering what he might say. Would he share your enthusiasm and support your plans, or would he try to talk you out of it, reasoning that you’d dropped out of school once and might not manage it again?

These thoughts were incredibly silly. Spencer—knowledge-obsessed, ever-curious Spencer—would never say something like that.

Instead, he pulled you into a tight embrace, whispering how incredible the idea was. You melted into it completely, feeling more elated than ever and unable to stop thinking about the crazy chain of cause and effect that had led to this specific moment, this particular relationship, and above all, this exact happiness. 

do you accept this overly sweet ending as my apology? :> tagging: @nightfullofparadox @lillaberry @fortheloveofgubler @opheliahotchner @cowboy1ikereid @penelopegarciaismygf

sorry if i forgot about someone!

[kikidoul]

── SECRET HANGOUTS.

໒꒰ྀི ^ ⸝⸝ ^ ꒱ྀིა 西村 力 x fem! reader content established+secret relationship non-idol au high school au ᥫ᭡ warning explicit sexual content semi-public sex pussy eating fingering begging degrading kink dacryphilia riki being a tease (what else's new) . . . !? 1325— mlist.

note. another reupload from my previous blog heh. had to edit some parts but majority of it is still the same. don't like then don't read. taglist. @tfwbluu

Being the president of the student council means everyone has high expectations of you. It also means that you’re constantly under pressure, having to deal with many events. Currently, you are preparing for the upcoming prom that will be held in four months time. Thankfully, your fellow club members were generous enough to lend a helping hand. You were grateful for their support, making a mental note to treat them bubble tea once the prom was over. 

“...And that’s it for today. Does anyone have any questions?” You asked, turning to face the audience but everyone shook their heads, you nodded. 

“Alright, then you can go. Enjoy your weekend!” You bid them farewell, staying behind as you packed your things, switching off the projector while waiting for your laptop to shut down.

“I knew I’d find you here.” 

You sighed, not bothering to raise your head at the familiar smug voice interrupting the silence. “Why are you here, Riki?” 

“I’m here to bless my girlfriend with my presence. What else would I be here for?” He replied, acting innocent despite how he had already locked the door behind him, approaching you with intent. 

This time, you raised your head, ready to reprimand him, only for you to yelp when Riki easily pinned you against the desk, pushing the stack of papers aside, moving them dangerously close to the edge. Your breath hitched in your throat when he leaned in, engulfing your senses in his cologne—woody and citrus. His eyes darkened, flickering down to your parted lips and he took the leap of faith, sliding your lips together. You wasted no time in returning the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck as Riki made you sit on the desk. 

You parted your legs, allowing him to situate himself between them. An involuntary shiver ran down your spine when you felt his hand trailing up your thighs, snaking its way underneath your knee-length skirt. Your legs instinctively shut when Riki teasingly dragged his hand across your soaked panties, locking his hand in place. 

“Riki, not here,” you whimpered, allowing him to spread you apart as you were being pushed back until you were laying on the desk. 

“Shh, it’s fine. No one’s around anymore. It’s just you and me but try to be quiet,” he hushed you, flipping your skirt up, revealing your cute white lacy panties. His eyes were fixated on how the thin fabric was soaked with your arousal, the sight sending heat straight down to his cock. 

“Look at you, you’re soaking wet. Did it turn you on that you’re doing this in the council room?” He grins, pulling down your panties and tossed it to the ground, not caring where it landed. 

“Riki, please!” You pleaded, slightly raising your head to look at him, giving him your best puppy eyes. 

“Fuck, you’ve no idea what you do to me, princess,” he cursed, wasting no time in diving in, as if he had been starved for a month. 

You barely remembered to muffle the moans that crawled its way up to your throat, slapping a hand over your mouth. Riki was ruthless and it shows in the way he eats you out. He parted your puffy lips apart with his fingers, slipping a finger in and his tongue at the same time. Your back arched off the desk at the long and slow glide of the wet muscle. The first time you’ve done this, Riki was awkward and shy but as time went on, he soon learnt what he can do to make you fall apart, reducing you to a whimpering and moaning mess. 

He glanced up, only to pause his ministrations when he saw how you were holding back your noises. Riki moved away, eliciting a shaky whine of protest from you. 

“Riki, why?” You sniffled, frustrated tears pricking your eyes, blurring your vision. 

“Aw, does my sweet angel want to come?” He coos in a faux sweet tone. The desire to see you cry grew stronger and stronger. 

“P-Please,” you pleaded, making grabby hands at him with your lips curling down in a pout, trying to make yourself as appealing as possible to your boyfriend. 

Riki smirks, leaning down again to kiss your clit, savoring the way you bucked your hips; craving for more. “Of course, who am I to deny you, princess?” 

He didn’t wait for your response, now full-on attacking your poor cunt with short and quick flicks of his tongue. This time, he added another finger, easily sliding in until he was knuckles deep. Riki skillfully angled his long, thick fingers, brushing them against the spot that made you see stars exploding in your vision. 

“Oh god, R-Riki, I’m gonna—!” You panted, feeling the familiar ache between your thighs and how your muscles tightened. Riki merely hums; the vibration is enough to tip you over the edge. Your eyes rolled back and your boyfriend eagerly drank in what you had to offer, not wanting to waste a single drop. 

You calmed down after reaching your climax, panting heavily to catch your breath. You were only granted three seconds of temporary peace before your ears registered the sound of Riki pulling down his pants. You squeaked when he pushed your legs up onto his shoulders. 

“W-Wait—” You protested, only for the words to die in your throat when he stuffed you full of his cock, splitting you open for him. Your insides were practically rearranged and made to take him with no difficulty. 

“You’re still so tight even after I prep you,” he groans, already sounding ragged and out of breath. Riki leans down, one hand grabbing your chin so he could crush his lips against yours in a messy and filthy kiss, allowing you to taste yourself. 

You were struggling to keep up with him, feeling the breath getting knocked out of your lungs when he started moving, hips snapping against yours at a frantic pace. If you were in the comfort and privacy of your home, Riki would love to take his time with you but since you were in a public setting, he had to be quick. His lips eagerly swallowed your angelic sounds. Breaking the kiss, he moved down your neck, clumsily pulling down your blouse to leave hickeys on your unblemished skin. 

“S-So good, ngh! M-More,” you groaned, unable to get enough of the delirious sensation of his cock sliding in and out, hitting the deepest parts of your cervix. 

“Yeah? You like that, princess? How would everyone think if they were to see you like this? Drunk on a bad boy’s cock, like the cockslut you are,” he sneers, his degrading words making you mewled. 

“Maybe I should fuck you in front of everyone and show them your true self,” he continues, voice lowering an octave with the right amount of raspiness, enough to drive you crazy. 

“Riki, hah, don’t stop,” you moaned, getting drunk on the intoxicating feeling. 

You faintly heard him cursed under his breath and he quickened his pace, driving the both of you to your climaxes. You squirmed when he emptied his load inside of you, feeling full of his come. Riki pulls out, quickly swiping your panties off the floor and pulls them up. 

“We don’t want to let it go to waste, do we?” He grins at your noise of discomfort. 

You glared at him, slowly pushing yourself off the desk, only for your legs to buckle. Seeing this, Riki steadied you with one hand on your waist while the other rested on your back.

“Whoops.”

“This is your fault, so you better take responsibility,” you retorted, already regretting what you said when he grins. 

Riki leans in so he could whisper into your ears. “Oh I will, princess, don’t worry. I think you should worry more about whether you can handle it or not.” 

Looks like you might have to take a sick leave for tomorrow… 

[solar-wing]

⚣ Protective Lover 🥰

⚣✋🏻 A/N → Another idea partly inspired off one of my previous Jason posts. Dude is the definition of scary dog privilege. "and my man, thank you to my man." WARNINGS: Jealous/Possessive Behavior. Minor Swearing and Threats of Violence. Cute Fluff.

⚣✋🏻 Summary → It's no secret: Jason is a jealous and possessive boyfriend. But, many don't think about the benefit that comes along with that. He's hella protective. Sometimes it's overbearing, other times, it's very helpful.

⚣✋🏻 Words → 1.4k

REBLOGS and replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 🥰

At some point, Y/N had gotten used to it. Was it annoying? Yes. Did it feel overbearing at times? Countless. Did he secretly love it and felt the world’s most (concerning) validation from it? Absolutely.

But, when looking at the situation and its circumstances as a whole, it made sense.

When he and Jason first started dating, there was definitely a vibe of him being a gruff but soft teddy bear who was clingy and needy for love and attention when with his chosen lover. But, when around literally anyone else who was not said lover or other people were in the same room as his chosen mate, he’d turn into the world’s scariest guard dog.

It was the general rule of Scary Boyfriend Privilege. Only the designated boyfriend could see their boyfriend’s soft and needy side. Anyone outside that got the ‘murderous if you get too close’ grizzly bear side.

Extremely hot and sexy, but it could be a bit (a lot) much at times. 

Y/N tried to get Jason to calm down, always showing that he could take care of himself and there was no reason for him to worry. But, living in a city like Gotham and given the vigilante’s past (hence the aforementioned situation and circumstances), there really was no calming him down.

But let’s look on the bright side here. With said privilege and the kind of boyfriend Jason was, Y/N never felt more safe and secure in his life. It was like walking around a video game world with the most overpowered gear on. He was basically untouchable.

Examples? Why, of course!

When it came to school, Y/N always preferred studying and doing his homework with Jason since he would help him stay focused and assist him with subjects that he struggled with. 

Y/N was not the first but certainly the loudest to say that Jason did not get enough credit for how smart he was. Yeah, he typically lived by street smarts, but he was big on book smarts as well. He just had to learn how to communicate the information in ways where it wasn’t confusing for both him and his boyfriend.

Plus, in dating Y/N, he learned the art and benefits of positive reinforcement which anyone could probably imagine taking a magnifying glass to their relationship, it was something the Y/N had to use a lot for Jason. Now, the vigilante was doing the same for his boyfriend by giving him little rewards for finishing his work and getting good grades like take-out dates, letting him play in his hair, and more often than not, a good dic-

PAUSE

Oh for fucks sake, are we doing this again? Why does it have to be PG-13? Well, no one said– Ugh…Fine.

A good fitness workout that involved lots of cardio, sweating, and soreness, but the good kind.

Happy?

But, the week of midterms turned out to be an equally busy week for Jason as well. He was knee-deep in a big crime plot and was getting closer and closer to solving the case. Y/N understood and didn’t want to get in the way of his boyfriend's duties. It still sucked though because it meant he wouldn’t be able to study in his apartment as he’d find way too many ways to get distracted. So, he had no choice but to study on campus, and figured what better place than the library?

Turns out there could have been better places.

Y/N was sitting at a large table by himself with various books in front of him along with his tablet and laptop reviewing his notes for a huge test he had the next morning. He wasn’t the only one who had the idea of going to the library to study as it was packed full of students trying to do last-minute cramming and studying.

Jason, as usual, called him to make sure he was okay and that he had gotten to the library safely even though Y/N was well aware his boyfriend had many different ways of tracking him and making sure he was where he was supposed to be. At first, he found it creepy, but when he got to know Jason’s family, he understood.

When Jason didn’t hang up the phone long after Y/N had already sat down and began reviewing, he decided he wasn’t going to hang up either, feeling more relaxed and calm while hearing his boyfriend’s voice and breathing through his earphones.

Now and then, Jason would call his name and check to make sure he was focusing and not slacking off or scrolling on social media and Y/N would turn and scold him for trying to check him when he should have been focused on fighting criminals.

“That’s the thing, babe. I can focus on more than two tasks at the same time. You, on the other hand, still can’t manage to focus on one task for more than 10 minutes without getting distracted by something else like your favorite song and flooding our apartment.”

“I told you to let the bathtub thing go!” Y/N whispered loudly into his earbud mic with a goofy smile on his face still.

“I will never let the bathtub thing go.”

They continued their playful back and forth while Y/N continued studying until he was interrupted by another student, a guy from one of his history classes. This guy was more or less a bit annoying and creepy and had been bothering Y/N for a while with his persistent quest to ask him out.

No matter how many times he rejected him, the guy always tried again and again. He never got forceful, or at least he never had the chance since Y/N always made sure there were people around or that he got to an area where other people were nearby just in case he tried something.

He wasn’t judging him, but he took Jason’s words and lessons very seriously when it came to his safety. He’d seen enough of his boyfriend’s cases where people didn’t take the necessary steps to keep themselves protected and safe because they didn’t imagine it would ‘go that far.’

The creep only left him alone when he saw Jason was with him. Truthfully, many people tended to steer clear of Y/N and his massively scary boyfriend whenever he was with them on campus besides his friends. They were even put off by Jason at times whenever they hung out with their friend cause they’d catch him at times giving them weird looks and glares if they touched or just got too close to his boyfriend for his liking.

Plus, after the one incident of the guy who tried to pick a fight with Y/N and pushed him, thus having to deal with Jason in the aftermath, everyone learned it was just better to steer clear.

So, when Jason wasn’t anywhere in sight, Y/N’s creepy stalker saw it as a perfect moment for him to try and make a move on his classmate, not expecting the very person he was hoping to avoid being on the phone the entire time.

It wasn’t until he saw Y/N unplug his earphones and hand him his phone that he realized he was indeed on a call, and after receiving possibly the most violently worded threat he had ever heard he decided there were plenty of other fish in the sea.

He handed the phone over to its owner before scurrying off like a scared mouse, Y/N watching with a confused but also amused and relieved look.

“Hi baby,” Jason immediately responded to Y/N’s ‘hello’ in his little delightful and excited tone whenever he heard his boyfriend’s voice.

“Jason, what did you say to him?” Y/N immediately asked.

“Hey! It’s babe, baby, sexy, honey, or Jay at the slightest to you, mister. Only my family calls me that.”

“Jason…”

“Babeee, stop it! I don’t consent to this treatment. No means no!” Jason protested in a whiny voice.

“You’re such a baby,” Y/N chuckled.

“Only for you, hot stuff. But we’ll be having a long talk when I get home about you not telling me about creepy guys bothering you.”

“How did you know?”

“Babe, you know who you’re dating, right? There never will be something that bothers you that I won’t know about. I’m always gonna protect you, even if it annoys the hell out of you.”

Y/N couldn’t stop the big smile spreading across his face at his boyfriend’s words, knowing he meant every single one. Jason would always be his protective lover.

☀️ | Jason Todd/Red Hood | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[kpoplustzone]

Bottoms up - IU Smut Part 2

IUXOC

Part 2 of the series

This series will be a continuation of the same OC character called Kim and there will be many Idols that will come into his life and have sex with him. this is kind of a harem story if it can be said so. The OC character will go through various exciting and erotic situations with the idols where he fucks them senseless. I will try to create a continuous type of storytelling where the previous part naturally connects with the part I am writing to.

IU X OC SMUT

Kim Slowly stood up and his big thick cock slowly presented itself in its full glory in front of her. IU looked at the thing that was just inches away from her that was glistening with her saliva and pussy juices. She slowly raised her hand and gripped it giving it a slow stroke up and down. Kim looked at the gorgeous woman who was staring at his cock and biting her lips considering whether she should suck on it once again. she was still stroking and trying to decide when a loud knock interrupted them.

"Noona. it's time to go. We have booked the hotel for dinner. all the staff are ready and good to go. Have you seen Kim Ajhussi, I have to tell him about it"

Her manager spoke from outside the door feeling sorry that he disturbed her alone time. He always felt lucky that he was working with one of the most beautiful women in Korea. She was always kind to him and he also felt that whoever was lucky to be her boyfriend was definitely lucky. he would never dream about something like that and he knew that she was level above people like him. but not even in his wildest dream he would have dreamt that the so-called goddess was on her knees stroking someone way older than her and him with such lust in her eyes.

IU heard her manager but her eyes never looked away from the cock in front of her as she stroked it and slowly it started getting semi hard which was still an impressive size. She looked up at the man and sighed.

"Wait for me with the staff. I will be out in 5 minutes. I will call Kim Ajhussi and tell him to pick you all up."

IU got her lips closer to the cock in her hand, gave it a slight kiss, and continued to kiss his pubic region, then her red lips continued kissing his whole body as she slowly stood up. Kim looked at the woman standing in front of him bare-naked. For him, it was such a beautiful sight. the perky but firm breasts, and toned abs which were the result of her training in the gym, and his eyes went down to her red moist pussy, which he enjoyed some minutes ago. He does get why men in Korea are obsessed with this woman.

IU looked at the old man standing in front of her his eyes looking at her up and down with naked lust. She had seen this look many times in her life but only from this person she could feel her body trembling from pleasure just from his gaze. Kim looked at IU who was trembling in front of him with her pussy dripping wet. He could not see the strong, confident, and graceful figure that charmed almost 70k fans just hours ago. He strode forward and pulled her into his arms and slowly started rubbing his cock with her ass.

He slowly brought his lips near her ears and whispered, "Ji eun ah. Should we do it one more time before we go ?"

IU shuddered as soft hot breath tickled her earlobes and she softly rubbed her thighs together to satisfy her leaking pussy. He knows every sensitive spot on her body. His rough hands slightly grazed her sexy red lips, tracing their full shape, and slowly his fingers pried open her mouth. IU started licking and slurping his fingers as though it was his long thick cock. Although she had dated before, this was the first time her body had surrendered completely. She was ready to do anything to give the man behind her pleasure. 

The pride and grace had been completely washed away from her when he completely conquered her body. 

KIM looked at the K-pop queen who was sucking and slurping his fingers with her eyes closed, and his gaze finally landed on her full perky breasts. Fans have always wondered how perky her tits are. She had always teased them by giving enough of a peek at her perky tits. His other hand slowly moved down slightly, touching her fair neck and slightly cupping her full breasts. The slight touch caused her body to arch backward, resting her head on his shoulder, and a heavy moan escaped her lips. And

He started teasing her by tracing his fingers along her breasts very near her sensitive pink nipples. He could feel her breath hasten as he brought his fingers close to her pink buds. She wanted him to touch it and play with it but the teasing was unbearable for her. Her whole body started trembling from the sheer amount of pleasure running through her body and her hand clutched onto his gray locks urging him to give her release.

He slowly brought his hips forward and placed his thick hard cock along her pussy lips. IU let out another moan as she felt the hot hard cock on her pussy. KIM groaned as he thrust her again and again, sandwiching his cock between her fleshy thighs. IU could only moan and groan as she felt her whole body dancing with pleasure and the room was filled with her moans. 

KIM started groping and twisting her perky tits and pinching her nipples as his hips started getting faster and faster. IU forgot that she was getting humped by an old man backstage in her concert hall with her staff waiting for her and the fans who fantasized about fucking her, but all the luck was for this old man on whose dick she was trembling and moaning on. 

She could feel her pussy getting wetter and wetter. She was close to cumming for the second time on the same day. She clutched onto his arm with her small hands as he railed his hard cock on her pussy lips and soon her whole body jerked as she came on his hard thick cock. Her knees gave out power, and she slowly fell on the floor panting and sweating. 

She could only look at the hard thing in front of her, still standing proud in amazement. This old man had so much stamina even a young woman like her could not cope with it. She looked up and could feel his eyes on her. He wanted her to finish him too.

Her lips curled up and soon the same devious IU that people love came out as she slowly stood up and picked a white tee near her and put it on covering her bare tits up. Soon she covered her still quivering pussy with a short skirt, not bothering to wear any panties.

The old man could only stand there confused with his full dick on display as the beauty in front of her started to dress.

"Ji eun ah what about me? Are you going to leave me like this" he asked, as he pointed at his thick cock.

IU shrugged as she walked forward and gave him a kiss on his lips and a stroke on his cock.

"We don't have time. We are already late. We can continue this after we go home, but now we have to go to dinner with the staff. You should go first and get ready with the car. I will come after some time."

IU let out a giggle as she walked away from him to go outside and greet her staff.

Kim looked at the closed door behind and then at his hard cock. He could only sigh as he tried hard to tuck his hard-on inside his pants and exit the room through the other door to the parking space to get his vehicle.

He drove the SUV towards the entrance of the concert stadium as rows and rows of fans were waiting for IU. They were chanting her name and waiting for her. He could only pity them because while they were waiting their beloved idol was busy sucking someone's cock.

He looked towards the entrance hearing loud cheers as a stunning beauty in a white t-shirt and a small skirt came through the door. She started waving and looking around smiling at fans and cameras. Kim looked through the window and his already hard cock tightened in his pants because when she was waving one could see all the way through her loose t-shirt. Even a bit of nipples were visible as fans rushed to take videos and pictures for future use.

He could see her smile and he knew she was doing this intentionally. A bit of a fanservice for her fans who were waiting for such A LONG TIME.

She entered the vehicle showing hearts and smiling to her fans. IU occupied the seat behind him and her manager sat behind her. Kim started the car and drove to the exit of the road. The hotel the staff booked was just a short ride of 10 minutes. Kim looked through the mirror and saw IU talking with her manager about the concert.

She looked forward and caught KIM staring at her through the front mirror and a sly smile formed on her lips. She adjusted herself so that the manager behind her could not see what was happening although it was not needed because he was looking at schedules and preparation. IU looked at Kim through the front mirror and slowly started opening her legs while slowly raising her skirt all the way up to her hips.

The wet dripping pussy was in front of him in full glory as he took in the beautiful view through his front mirror. His already hard cock strained hard against his jeans as IU slowly licked her lips and started fingering herself without the manager behind her noticing it.

Kim could only gulp and stare at her pussy for some time but soon was disappointed when she closed her smooth legs and gave him a smirk. Soon the journey to the hotel was over and she exited with her manager while giving him a gentle smile.

Inside the hotel

Kim sat in a corner with all the staff almost 15 of them including her stylists, makeup artists, and managers and he was bored as all of them were very young and he was the only old one out of them. naturally younger people would band together and ignore the older ones. IU had not yet arrived in the private room but the drinks had started flowing as they had been already ordered.

When he was thinking about gulping another glass of beer down the door to the room opened and the boss appeared. She was wearing the same white tee and a black short skirt. He could see the male gazes scanning her figure from head to toe. Young men present in the room cannot be blamed for this as they are working with such a goddess.

IU looked around the room after greeting all of them and when she spotted a seat near Kim she walked over and sat near him. The people in the room started drinking and eating and all of them were in a festive mood as IU joked around with them.

Kim could smell a familiar fragrance around him that was coming from her. He had breathed In that scent just some time ago and now smelling that familiar scent his cock hardened again, he looked at her and she was talking to her stylist who was sitting on the other side of her.

Kim slowly opened his fly and let out his hard cock giving him some relief looking around and that nobody was looking at him he slowly moved his hands under the table and grasped IU'S hand.

IU who was talking to the stylist suddenly jerked when her hand was held and guided to a hard thick thing. She turned her head towards him and then turned around like nothing happened but her hand stayed on his cock stroking him up and down. All the staff members were having a good time but only Kim was having his best day with the queen stroking him under the table.

He felt proud looking at the young men around the table who were looking at Iu with list in their eyes but they could never even touch her but here he was having his dick stroked by her.

Iu played with his dick under the table stroking slowly and also running her hands throughout the long cock sometimes pausing to run her fingers along the red tip taking all the precum on her fingers. She lifted her hand and took a fry from the table with the same fingers coated with his precum and put it in her mouth while looking at him. She even licked her fingers clean.

She looked down and seeing the cock in full glory once again started stroking him this time even faster. Her hands started going up and down even faster as she wanted to suck up all the cum inside his balls.

KIM could feel her soft hands gripping his cock and the pleasure from her stroking made him almost grunt but he could only grit his teeth and stay silent. He could feel that he was getting near. Usually, he lasts longer but this time the amount of teasing he had to endure from Iu made him unable to hold back. He let out a small grunt.

IU looked at the old man beside her and from the throbbing she felt from the cock in her hands she knew he was near. Her hands started going up and down even faster and soon she felt his dick jerking.

KIM wanted to let it all out but his breath stopped when IU slowly took a beer glass from the table and without anyone noticing she brought it down the table placing it under his dick.

This was the last thing that triggered Kim to spurt out a large amount of cum and everything fell into the beer glass covering his cock.

KIM looked around and saw everyone was getting drunk and no one was noticing their goddess was collecting cum under the table making him spurt out even more cum for her.

IU slowly raised the glass from under the table and seeing the large amount of cum in the glass licked her lips. She took a bottle of beer from the table and poured it into the glass mixing it with the cum inside it.

Kim could only watch all this with his mouth wide open as she cheered with others and downed the whole drink along with all his cum.

She slowly leaned close to him and whispered

"Ajhussi, don't go home today, you need to fuck me until the morning before I go on the worldwide tour"

Kim nodded with expectation as her hand once again grabbed his cock and stayed there for the rest of the dinner.

[figsnpassionfruits]

Show Me

a/n: wheewww this was super fun to write. this takes place after the events of DP&W so i hope it clears up the confusion. have fun reading <3 word count: 2.7k tags: worst!logan x fem!reader (can be read as gn!) warnings: angst, smut, not feeling loved enough, rough sex?, mentions of fighting, being addicted to a person basically dividers by: @strangergraphics-archive pictures are from pinterest

It had been days since you had last seen him. “Don’t worry ‘bout it” He would say, not wanting to merge his rugged life with the domestic one he had built with you. It was common for his episodes to play out like that. Logan would leave to god knows where, taking care of business, not that you would know what was meant by it, and return a few days later. He could call you, let you know that he was okay; but he never did.

Each and every time you would cuss at him, more mentally than physically. How dare he just leave and return whenever it pleases him? How dare he only have a relationship with you when it was convenient for him?

But you could not resist.

No matter how angry you were at him, all what mattered during his returns was that he was safe and that he came back to you. You wanted your rage to overweigh, you really did. But your heart had other plans.

Once the door unlocked you knew what would come. The same fight all over again.

You were in bed now, curled up into a ball under your shared blanket, his distinct smell still lingering on the fabric. Faced away from the door, you hoped he thought you were asleep. There was only so much energy one could withhold. Maybe yours was drained already. If you were lucky, he would just get into bed with you and hold you. Perhaps then you could pretend that everything was okay. That this was not sucking everything out of you.

Nevertheless, his heavy footsteps soothed you. Gosh, you really did not want them to. And sometimes, you really did not want to love him the way you did. Was he everything you wanted? Yes. Would he give you everything you wanted? Sure. But fuck, could he stick around for more than a single week before having to go again? No.

As he stepped into your room you instinctively shut your eyes. You could hear him stand still once he reached the doorway. A loud sigh escaped his mouth, and he walked off once again.

After a few moments you heard water splashing against natural stone.

Relieved that you had another few minutes to yourself, you turned onto your back, your eyes fixated on the ceiling as you became lost in your thoughts again. There you were in the bed of your boyfriend, waiting for him to join, having to act like he just completed a normal day at work. It was sickening. You knew this would be a part of it. Hell, you agreed to it. But now that you were in the situation you were not sure whether you could handle it anymore. If at least he would tell you; not hide his life from you; maybe you could deal with it differently.

Logan told you in the very beginning that he did not want you to know anything about the other side of him. You agreed to it. He told you he did not want you to ask him any questions. You agreed to it. He told you that everyone in his other universe got hurt because of him. He told you he did not want to make the same mistake. He told you that you would only be allowed into a fraction of his life. And you agreed to it.

Maybe you should not have.

He fully walked into your room now, the scent of his shampoo filling your nose as he carefully dropped his weight onto the mattress next to you.

You were back into your previous position now, curled up and facing away from him.

Once under the covers, Logan lifted your head gently and reached an arm under your neck, his other finding its way to rest over your midsection. He nuzzled his face into your hair, inhaling your smell.

He missed you. He really did. And you knew it. And that hurt even more.

Placing a hand on the side of your face, he tilted it up, delivering the softest kiss to your temple.

This was exactly what broke you every time. The softness Logan possessed was nothing you ever had expected from him when you first met. He simply did not seem the type. But after cracking him open, you could tell; this man was the softest lover.

Out of sudden he pulled you closer by your waist, your rear now fully curled into his front, fitting into him like a puzzle piece.

Not able to do any different, you leaned into his touch, wiggling your hips against his groin slightly.

He chuckled once and paid the attention of his lips to your neck this time, mumbling against the soft skin. “You awake, princess?”

You nod and hum slightly, shifting your frame so you could look at his face.

There it was.

The face you fell in love with.

You wanted to yell at him, hit him and tell him to leave. But you could not. Not when he was staring at you like you were the most precious thing he laid eyes on. Not when his eyes sparked that way in the dim light of your bedroom.

“You were gone for so long this time.” You whispered.

“I know.” He replied, kissing your forehead as a silent apology. “I’m here now.”

“Wish you would’ve let me know you were okay.”

“I know.”

This again. He was openly admitting to knowing that his actions hurt you. But his wording made clear that he was not going to change that.

As if he could read your mind, Logan continued talking, his index finger moving lose strands of hair from your face. “It’s dangerous to reach out to you while I’m gone. Never know who is tracking anything, love. I told you this.” He kissed your temple again. His body language was screaming at you that he was sorry, but his words were just scrambling excuses and reminders to you. It was confusing. Were you supposed to be mad at him or forgive him? It always ended up being the same anyway. But it should not.

“I just miss you, Lo.”

Logan let out a sigh, his eyes now on the ceiling.

When no response came, you propped yourself up on your elbows, looking at him. “You could say that you missed me too.”

“I did.”

“Are you sure?”

His eyes now turned to yours. The tension of the eye contact sped up the beating of your heart. He must have noticed, due to the fact that he now had a hold of both of your hands with a single one of his, rubbing small circles on them in an attempt to calm you down. “Yes, I am sure.”

Another moment of silence passed again; the both of you just looking at each other.

“You have to change, Logan. I cannot keep living in this house alone for the majority of the time, asking myself whether you are coming home or not.”

“I know.”

“That’s it?”

Logan cocked a brow at your words, seemingly surprised at your snap.

“That’s all you’re gonna give me? ‘I know’?”

“Well, what do you want me to say?”

“I don’t want you to say anything, Logan, I just want to feel loved and not like just some side piece that you can conveniently return to whenever you’re done with a job!”

He did not expect you to raise your voice. Neither did you.

Logan kept a blank stare at you, not sure how to respond. He knew that you were right and he understood your feelings. That was the problem. It was not about convincing anyone about who had a point, it was more about a behaviour that he was struggling to change. Logan was in a constant turmoil with himself, having to weigh out how to protect the people he was close to as well as having to protect himself. He knew that you should not feel like an option; he knew that. But all those years of self-loathing did not teach him how to show it.

“Darlin’, I-“

Without letting him answer to your rant you leaped forward, engulfing him in a rough and fast kiss. Your hands immediately found their ways to the side of his face and his curls.

Logan copied your action, his lips slightly chapped as your kiss deepened more and more.

Allowing his tongue into your mouth, you moaned into him, pressing your front against his as your legs took over to straddle him. You could not control it. No matter how mad you were, all you wanted was him. Your kisses screamed out in desperation and the need to feel loved by him. It was not like Logan did not love you, but you would be lying if you said that having him gone all the time did not make you feel like it.

Logan set his hands on your ass, squeezing the flesh harshly as he pulled you even closer to him, making you hiss quietly. For a split second he pulled away, guiding your top over your head and throwing it to the side without taking his eyes off of you.

Leaning down into the next kiss, you gasped into his mouth. You leaned down to him, your already hot skin now clashing with the rough hair on his chest, causing you to feel a slight tickle.

“I missed you so much.” You repeated, whispering the words against his lips.

“I missed you too, love.” He replied, giving you a small peck after.

You cupped his face with your hands, rubbing your thumbs over his beard. “You can’t keep leaving me like this, Lo. I get so worried each time.”

Logan leaned his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. “We’ll talk about this again, alright? Lemme take care of you now.”

In a split second he had you on your back, his forearms holding his weight in order to not crush you underneath him. He leaned down to deliver a rough yet short kiss to your lips once more before moving his mouth down to your neck, kissing that sweet spot that made you squirm before sucking on it just enough to make you moan.

“Missed those sounds.” He mumbled, his hands travelling down your stomach and your hips, tugging at the sole fabric that was covering you.

Lifting your hips up, you allowed him to take them off, your eyes not leaving his as he inched further down to the end of the bed, lining his mouth up at your inner thighs.

Usually you would giggle at him, asking him to not tease you. But today you needed this. You needed to feel cherished. Needed to feel loved.

Once his tongue made contact with you; all the anger and sadness washed away. In this moment you were just with him in your shared home, your shared room and your shared bed. It was just you two.

After moaning his name over and over again, his tongue flicking at your bundle of joy, you had allowed to relax and to release yourself, panting as your rode out your high. Logan was whispering and mumbling sweet praises to you, but you were too lost in this setting to pick up on any of them.

Not wanting you to detach, Logan leaned back up to you, his lips hungrily launching onto you again. You tasted yourself on him as you kissed back, your hands on the back of his neck pulling him to you, desperate to want him closer. You leaned yourself further up, your hands automatically moving to get a grip of his now exposed cock.

“Uh uh.” Logan snickered, holding your wrist with a hand of his. “Today’s all about you, mkay?”

“But, Lo-“

“No.” Logan interrupted you with a kiss. “Stop.” Giving you a second to process, he lifted his brows, giving you a look, silently begging you to accept.

You nodded in reply, biting your lip as he flashed you that smirk that you loved so much.

“Good girl.”

Out of a sudden Logan pulled on your ankles, his frame now propped on his knees. You watched him as he spat on his hand, using it to stroke his dick for a few times as he lined himself up at you.

Licking your own fingers while keeping your eyes on him, you moved your hand down to your folds, rubbing small circles on your wet skin.

With the familiar feeling of a lover, Logan entered you slow yet easily. He leaned his body down to you, a hand of his moving your hair out of your face while the other kept a hold on the inside of your knee, tilting it in a way to allow him better access.

“You okay?” He asked you, giving you a small kiss on your lips before starting to move his hips lazily.

“Yea.” You whisper out, tangling the fingers of your hand into his hair.

Smirking at your words, Logan now sped up slightly, his hips clashing against yours in a more rapid pace, now forcing moans to escape your lips. Logan leaned his forehead against yours, his grip now on your jaw. He did not intend to place his thumb right next to your mouth, yet you could not resist.

Turning your head to the touch, you took his calloused finger into your mouth, sucking on it while fighting your moans from his thrusts.

The sound of your wetness mixed with the slapping of skins filled the room as Logan picked up the speed once more, setting it to a more brutal one that you were usually used to with him.

You let go of his thumb with a ‘pop’, leaning your head back into the pillow, moaning out his name.

Using that to his advantage, he dove his head down, nibbling and biting on the skin of your neck, making you audibly gasp in between your bliss. “Fuck, Lo.”

“Tell me what you want.” He mumbled against your skin, not slowing down his thrusts while he demanded an answer.

“Want you to take me from behind.” You managed to blurt out, your eyes rolling to the back of your head once he sped up even more for just a tiny bit.

Out of nowhere he pulled out harshly, not even allowing you to whine at the loss of him before he flipped you over effortlessly onto your stomach. Getting on top of you, Logan pushed his cock right back into you, returning to that pace he had set right before he pulled out.

It was too much for your body to handle and it responded with gripping the covers underneath it as hard as you could, your knuckles’ colour turning to pale.

“Yea, you like it when I fuck you like this?” He mocked you, fisting a hand into your hair and pulling you up to him. “You’re the only one I can do this to, alright? Only you. I’m yours and you’re mine, understood?” He asked through his rough thrusts.

The possessiveness in his voice made you clench around him, your eyes shutting in pleasure as his words filled your ears. “I love you.” You moaned out, a hand of yours now gripping his wrist hardly.

He chuckled and slowed ddown his thrusts for a bit before replying to you. “I love you too, sweet thing.”

Logan knew all you needed was to be fucked well enough to feel loved again. Was it healthy? Probably not. But it was better than fighting. And you hated to admit it.

Delivering a small kiss to your forehead, you whined against Logan, the feeling of fullness and love overwhelming you.

“What’s wrong, love?” He asked, his hips slowly rocking against you.

“Need more.”

Logan smirked once more and sat up straight, his hands now on the sides of your lower back. You wanted him more and more. And he was going to give himself to you.

🍯

[loves0phelia]

Saturday Meetings

Summery: When Eddie learns Y/N has a similar music taste as him everything change.

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: Bullying, fighting, grammar mistakes.

Eddie Munson was always seen as a freak ever since he entered highschool. The basketball team, cheerleaders, party kids and even the smart kids thought he was a satanist for listening to metal music and wearing ripped jeans accompanied with chains. The permanent ink that decorated his skin did not help his case either. 

High school was a nuisance for Eddie. The only thing that motivated him was the Hell Fire club. A club where kids from juniors to seniors played dungeons and dragons.

For the members, this game meant the world, it was packed with excitement and fun. Yet, for others, it served as a tool for bullying.

During lunch you sat multiple tables away from him. You were dressed in the usual green, white and yellow cheerleading uniform the school provided, your hair pulled back into a neatly curled ponytail, you blended in with the rest of the team. But deep down, you were different. You had a passion for the same things as Eddie Munson. It was a part of you no one else could ever know.

Your Metalica, Black Sabbath and AC/DC cassette were tucked away underneath Madonna and tears for tears inside your backpack. You thought how Eddie was freely listening to the music you loved so dearly while you couldn't. 

Your head turned over your shoulder and you watched as he talked. His arms were flying around as he expressed himself. His big and extraverted gestures made you giggle. Nobody at your table was this extravagant. Seeing someone like him felt refreshing. You always wondered what it was like having spontaneous conversation was like. At your table it was like a routine. Sport, girls/boys, parties, repeat.

“What are you looking at?" Jason's voice broke your concentration, prompting you to snap your head back to face him. He was sitting directly across from you at the cafeteria table.

"Oh, it's nothing," you attempted to brush him off, but the concern in everyone’s faces at your table made it impossible to avoid.

“You sure? Looks like you were looking at Munson” The judgment in his voice was clear. It was like mentioning his name burned his tongue.

"I, um, I was just... he looks weird, doesn't he?" you stammered, trying to save the situation. His brow furrowed as he glanced between you and him. The concern dissolved from his face as he chuckled and nodded in agreement with your previous statement. With a sigh of relief, your tense shoulders relaxed, and your racing heart gradually slowed its pace.

Your anxious gaze met Chrissy's, Jason's girlfriend, and she responded with a gentle smile. In that moment, her glance was reassuring, silently letting you know that everything was okay. 

…

That night, you layed in bed, the sound of "Thunderstruck" blasting through your Walkman, was drowning out the world around you as you stared up at the ceiling, thoughts filled your mind, wondering how different life could be if you were surrounded by people who truly understood you, rather than pretending to fit in where you clearly didn't belong.

“Y/n!” Your heart dropped when you barely heard your name over the music. You threw The headphones off and you saw your mom in the doorway.

“What is it mom?” You asked and sat up.

"I've been calling that dinner's ready for the past 10 minutes. Are you still listening to that crazy music?" she sighed, rolling her eyes as the sound echoed from the headphones now abandoned beside you.

“Come downstairs, now” she scolded and you followed her down to the kitchen where once again you talked about school, boys and sports instead of something that really interested you.

…

The next morning, the thought of staying home was tempting. Everything seemed to conspire against you, discouraging any motivation to face another day of repeating the same exact routine as the day before.

But you knew your parents would not want you to stay home.

As the school bus pulled up in front of your house, you found yourself once again lost in your music, the volume cranked up high enough to fill your ears but low enough to keep the people around you from hearing it..

When it arrived at its destination people rushed to get out of the yellow vehicle. You, on the other hand, walked slowly deadring the moment you will have to enter class.

As you turned the corner in the main hallway, you collided with someone so hard that the Walkman's headphones slipped off your head and began to fall to the ground. The cord connecting the headphones to the cassette player on your waist tugged, causing it to tumble to the floor as well making the Metallica cassette spill out onto the ground.

“Oh I'm sorry sweetheart” your heart pounds against your chest when you finally recognized the boy you bumped into.

“Let me get that for you- Metalica?” He examined the cassette as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

“You really listen to that?” his smirk is inevitable.

“No. It's- uh, for my brother” You snatched the cassette from his hand.

“You don't even have a brother” He laughed when he caught your lie.

“How would you know that?” 

"We've been in the same classes for two years, Y/N." The sound of your name rolling off his tongue sends a shiver down your spine.

In this moment you noticed how Andy and two other boys from the basketball team looked at you and Eddie as they passed.

In a hurry you grabbed his hand and tugged him away into the nearest janitor closet.

"You know, you could've asked me out first before dragging me in here, but I guess I'll give you points for spontaneity," he says with a smirk, his confidence made you roll your eyes and slap his forearm.

“You cannot tell anyone that you saw this alright?” You shoved the cassette into his face. ”Jason would ruin my life and probably find a way to kick me out of the team because he thinks it's… it’s satanic” Eddie sighed harshly.

“Fine. But-”

“No buts!” 

“BUT you have to help me with O'donnell's test for next month” you considered it for a moment. If anyone saw you with him they would probably do worse then kick you off the team. But you didn't have a choice.

“Fine but you come to my place on Saturday nights, and you have to come through my window.”

“Exciting, romantic, I like it”

“This is not romantic!” and just at this very moment you noticed how tight the closet was. How close your bodies were. “I- Am going to get out and you have to wait 5 minutes before you do, understood?” 

“Understood, maam” he nodded and quickly you came out of the closet. Fresh air immediately brushed on you.

The rest of the week went smoothly, you sneaked glances at him every now and then but nothing was abnormal. During the integrality of Saturday you were impatient for the moment eddie would come knocking on your window. And when he did you were listening to one of your many vinyls, as you opened the window and welcomed him in.

“Holy shit” he whispered as he took in your room. In his head it would have been filled with pinks and purples, neat and well organized. But there were vinyls of his favorite bands on the wall next to posters and a concert ticket framed in a black picture frame. You had books scattered on your desk that he had also read, and 5 pairs of different colors converse on the floor.

“You are full of surprises”  He had said and you just ignored the compliment and went 

straight to studying.

On the following Saturday night, Eddie returned without fail, and you both studied again. As the hours passed, midnight approached and you were both tired and yawning.

“I should go,” He said as he started gathering his notebooks and his backpack.

"Same time next Saturday?" you inquired as Eddie made his way halfway out of your window.

He nodded, a sweet smile lighting up his face, making your stomach erupt with butterflies.  Every Saturday preceding the test, unfolded the same way. Sometimes you found yourselves watching movies, almost cuddling, his arm draped around your shoulder, and occasionally you allowed your head to rest on him.

Friday, the day before your last study session before the math test, was a game day. You knew Eddie and his club had a reunion the same day but you still invited him to come watch your cheerleading routine along with his friends.

Surprise flickered across your face as you spotted him in the stands just before the end of the game. His unexpected presence threatened to throw you off balance, but you swiftly regained your focus.

After the game, as the team was heading back to the locker room, Jason spotted Eddie lagging behind waiting for you.

"Waiting for the girls to come out, perv?” Jason sneered, his minions laughing along with him.

Eddie tried to brush off the insults, but Jason's words cut deep. Just as Jason was about to deliver another cutting remark, you came out of the changing room holding your sport bag.

you looked between them for a second in silence. Eddie looked at you and a lightbulb lightened up on Jason’s head.

“Oh I see what's going on here. Munson’s got a crush on y/n!” His loud tone made everyone grow quiet. Students nearby started surrounding them, their eyes darting between Jason and Eddie. Eddie's cheeks burned with humiliation as he struggled to find the courage to respond

“Sorry to break it to you but a cheerleader would never go for a freak like you” With a smirk on his face, Jason draped his arm around you in a cocky way. It was in no way near as comforting as Eddie's embrace.

“Fuck off, Carver” you pushed him off your body. His smirk faltered for a moment as he received the unexpected rejection, but he quickly regained his composure, scoffing at Y/N's boldness. 

"Really, y/n? You're into Munson now? I didn't think you would go that slow but you've always been a slut” he shrugged and some people around you snickered and some other gasped

Jason's menacing presence loomed over you. You stood frozen after the words came out of his mouth. Eddie stepped forward, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive as he positioned himself between you and him.

Eddie hesitated before striking a punch right into his jaw. Jason’s head flew to the right and he stumbled backwards. Everyone gasped loudly.

With a fierce growl, Jason lunged forward, aiming a wild swing at Eddie's nose. But he was quicker. With fast reflexes, Eddie ducked under his punch and returned one to Jason’s gut, earning a grunt of pain.

The fight was on. Fists flew as Eddie and Jason traded blows. The students who were gathered around cheers added to the chaotic atmosphere.

“Stop!” You screamed but they were blinded by rage and humiliation.

Despite Jason’s size and strength, Eddie held his ground. With each blow, he could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

The echoes of grunts, cheers and strikes alarmed various teachers and when they saw the scene, they were both separated. The boys were panting and Jason was quick to put the blame on Eddie.

He looked at you desperately before walking into the crowd of students to storm out of the school ignoring the calls of a teacher demanding him to stay and explain himself.

You dropped your sport bag with your uniform inside and ran after him. 

“Eddie, wait” Once outside you saw him about to enter his van. Your calls stopped him and he turned to face you. You didn't fail to notice the large bruise on his cheekbone already forming.

“Eds- im so sorry” he shook his head dismissing your apology.

"It wasn't your fault, Y/N," He reassured you softly, and in a swift movement, you wrapped your arms around his chest. At first, surprise made him motionless, but after a few moments, he returned the embrace, his arms enveloping you in a tight hug.

“Y/n” A much softer voice called out behind you. You and Eddie both looked toward it and Chrissy was standing there holding your bag.

“This is yours. Right?” She extended her arm.

“You can keep it Chrissy… my uniform is in it, now that Jason knows, nobody will want me on the team” 

“I want you on the team, and I'm the captain” she pushed the bag inside your arms. “If someone has a problem with your relationship with Eddie, they will be kicked off the team.”

“Were not in a-” Eddie started with a shy tone.

“Thanks Chrissy” you hugged her tightly before saying your goodbyes.

“Bye Eddie. See you monday y/n, love you”

“Are we in a relationship?” His question is genuine and full of curiosity.

“I- uhm, do you want to be?” 

“Hell yeah I want to. The whole studying shit was just an excuse to spend time with you!” A goofy smile was plastered on his face.

“What?!” 

“Do you actually think I, Eddie Munson, would study willingly?” He giggled. 

"I can't believe you," you said between giggles, resting your head on his chest as laughter bubbled up between you both.

With a hesitant yet determined step forward, Eddie closed the distance between you, his hand reached out to gently cup your cheek. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt the warmth of Eddie's touch, a shiver of anticipation traveled your body. Eddie leaned in, his lips hovering just inches from yours.

And then, with a tender brush of his lips against yours, Eddie closed the gap, sealing your lips with a soft kiss. It was a kiss filled with all the pent-up longing and desire that had been building between you.

And when you  finally pulled away, your lips tingled with the lingering sensation of his kiss, the fight long forgotten. You knew that this was just the beginning of yours and his journey together—a journey filled with passion, love, and endless possibilities.

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

laughter like honey dribbles ◦ l.f

-an inexperienced Felix tries to impress you by forcing his voice deeper. What do you do when it cracks mid-through?

Paring◦ Lee Felix x Fem!Reader

Words◦ 1123

Genre ◦ The fluffiest smut you'll ever read, awkward sexual situations, realistic sex where life isn't all butterflies, orgasms, and rainbows.

Warnings ◦ Reader is described as having a vagina, laughter during sex, Felix being a big baby, embarrassment (what's new), ruined orgasm ig? Ngl i feel like half of this is just a bunch of me yapping and terrible punctuation (if you find any errors PLEASE let me know, thank you).

A/N ◦ This was the very first thing I've ever posted on my tumblr literally ever and so I'm going to be reuploading all of my stuff back onto this account 😃 so why not start off here

~CookieCreates🍪

You can feel him all around you, chest to chest, skin to skin, heart to heart. Your bodies melded together flawlessly, as though you were molded to fit into each other's arms, and, well, each others…

He pumps in and out of you ruthlessly, perfectly tipping you closer and closer to the edge.

“Please,” you whimper, wrapping your legs around his rutting hips, wanting him closer, harder, deeper,

Fuck.

“What do you want, baby?” He slams his hips harder into yours, prodding all the perfect places. You choke, a rush of pleasure vibrating through your bones. “Use your words.” He pants, nibbling on the soft skin of your neck, his voice deep and low, the seductive sultry tilt sends shivers up your spine and tingles to your core. 

“Say something, anything, your voice drives me crazy,” you whine, throwing your head back in bliss. A shrill moan rips from the back of your throat as you feel your orgasm quickly approaching, electric hands reaching out to you. You brush the tips of its fingers; trailing rings of fire seem to be tickling your skin, raging beneath your bones. 

So close.

So close.

So close.

You reach, all you need is,

“Good girl.” Felix doesn't know why he did it, forced his voice lower, deeper. At the time when ecstasy was rushing through his veins, it didn't seem like such a bad idea, until he went so deep it cracked.

He wants nothing more than for the earth to crack open and swallow him whole.

He stops.

You stop.

The world stops for a moment, and all you can see are his big, brown eyes blown wide with shock. The room is completely silent; the only thing being heard is the rough pounding of your hearts and the hard blinking of your eyes which seems like all you guys are able to do. You stay like that forever. Watching. Waiting. For one of you to take one for the team and cut through the growing tension in the room. You curl your lips into your teeth, breaking the awkward stand-off on whose either going to laugh their ass off or pretend that nothing happened and continue to fuck, but with your orgasm long forgotten and the previous raging heat of the room now dwindling to nothing more than a few flickering embers, the laughter that bubbles up in your throat is beginning to be too hard to contain.

Heat floods his cheeks as he blinks, still in this weird form of fight or flight mode. His muscles tense beneath your traveling fingertips, overcome with the humiliation that burns through his chest, and figuring no matter how much he's praying for the earth to swallow him up, Mother Nature is not coming to save him, so he shoves his face into the crook of your neck, hiding from your amused stare instead. 

“Baby,” you chuckle softly, sympathetically, the sound reminding him somewhat of delicate strings of honey that float through the air. Even with the regret coursing through his veins, the sound sticks to parts of his brain that only you are allowed to occupy, so basically, all of it.

He could sum up his life with you in one simple sentence: cotton candy kisses and laughter like honey dribbles. He groans, digging his face deeper into the soft skin of your neck, the same neck that's littered with the love bites he bestowed not even moments earlier.

Oh, how the world changes. 

You can't help the spree of giggles that spill from your mouth.

“Can you come out now, please?”

"No, I'm good. I think I'm going to live here, die here, eat here, sleep here. You might as well get comfortable, baby, cause I'm staying here for the rest of my life!” He says erratically, digging his face deeper into your skin.

“My dramatic baby,” you coo, running your fingers through his hair, still damp with sweat. Time seems to trickle by as soft bouts of breathing fill the air. The heat of his cheeks burns into your neck as you attempt to coddle him out of the embarrassed home he's made in your body.

"S'embarrassing,” he mumbles, voice muddled by the depth in which he has burrowed into your flesh.

“What was that, baby? I couldn't hear you from the home you've made in my neck.” You tease, a playful smirk dancing on your lips. He lifts his head, shooting you an equally playful but unamused glare. You have to push back the laughter that threatens to leave your lips as you take in his red cheeks and shy eyes. He looks so adorable and yet so sexy at the same time. You don't know if you want to jump his bones or bake him a batch of cookies. The best part is that you know you're going to be able to do both. You lift your eyebrows, sending him a look that states, "You have to admit that really was funny," which he reciprocates with a bashful smile, not quite meeting your eyes, giving you a look back that states, "I know it was funny, but right now I'm too embarrassed to say that currently."

That's what you loved about your relationship with Felix—you didn't always have to communicate with words. Your hearts did the talking for you.

“Come on,” you giggle, “you have to admit it was kind of funny.” He rolls his eyes, a wide smile creeping onto his face. "Yeah, I guess it was kind of funny.” 

You snicker, “Thank God, cause the laughter wasn't going to hold itself in for very long.” 

"Ugg, I hate you.” His words were as soft as silk, holding not even a centimeter of malice. He buries himself back into the permanent place he's made his home. 

“But I love you.” You whisper, your lips grazing the crown of his head, soft hairs tickling your chin.

You loved Felix, and he loved you, and even though the mood was ruined and hope for an orgasm was gone, you wouldn't trade it for the world. How could you when he was exactly that. Your world. 

“Okay, as much as I hate to say this, you can't live inside of me forever; my pH levels have to be screaming right now.”

When you were a girl and the coughs started coming, your mother used to give you honey in a spoon and a tickle to the stomach, telling you that laughter was the best medicine, but mixed with the slick amber liquid, your laughter would always sound like honey dribbles, the perfect cure, but with Felix, you never had to worry about being sick because laughter was all the two of you ever spoke.

©CookieCreates (posted: June, 2nd 2024) All rights reserved. Do not translate, copy, or claim my works as yours! I only post on this platform so if any of my works are elsewhere, report and notify me immediately.

[stararch4ngelqueen]

hear me out…jason proposing 😵‍💫 i’m such a sucker for a lowkey proposal like you’re just having a normal convo and he’s like “marry me” and you’re like wtf but you laugh it off bc like ofc he’s joking so when you’re like “you’re funny” he’s just dead serious, “marry me.”

I don’t really know where I was going with this, but if you get the reference I respect you.

—

Time written - 10:10 a.m

—

You weren’t a criminal when you met Robin, years before his tragic prime. It wasn’t every day when your paths crossed with a cape wearing teen around your age, even more so on his search of a bag of valuables you were ready to deny when it ‘accidentally’ came into your hands.

“Care to tell me how that happened?” The Boy Wonder at the time smirked, amused at your gawking face.

“Cat got her own tongue? What, you need some milk?”

You rolled your eyes. I you were a thief, you’d have sense to throw the satchel at his head. The cheesy jokes must’ve been a Robin thing. “I’m more of an Ice cream girl, actually. But, I didn’t steal this!”

To add up on this horribly unprecedented situation, Robin quirked a brow behind that domino mask of his, gesturing his head towards the bag of valuables in question.

“Trade you a milkshake for that.”

It was your turn to be incredibly confused, your mouth left open for quite some time. Was he serious right now?

“I choose the flavor.” You state after a further moment of thought.

“Seems fair.”

“And the place it’s bought from.”

“That’s askin’ a bit much,” Robin began to huff, hinting his growing smirk as your frown deepens.

“All I’m asking for is a five dollar shake in exchange for this bag full of hundreds of dollars, bird boy.”

“A five dollar shake in exchange for about seven hundred bucks inside that bag,” Robin points out, his smile growing bigger and bigger. “Throw in your phone number, an’ we got a deal, kitty cat.”

It turned into unconventional milkshake roof dates, sitting over the skylines, staring down at the chaotic world below as the two of you shared an unintentional paradise.

He’d tease your fear of heights, constantly calling you a Catwoman rip off, but he always made sure to never let you fall. Your relationship was sweet, too sweet, and gone way too fast.

Your rooftop dates were a tradition you kept alive when he died, only to resurface when a knock at your window interrupted you of sleep, opening your balcony to find a single milkshake perfectly balanced, with a bright black arrow drawn on the cup to meet Red Hood on the roof.

Jason Todd wasn’t the same as you remembered him to be, but he was still Jason, underneath all that broodiness that shielded him from whatever unseen traumas he hadn’t shared with you quite yet.

All these months since he ‘returned’, he always made sure to keep up your ice cream date schedules. Nine o’clock sharp on the roof of your apartment building. Sometimes, ontop of Wayne Industries on special occasions. He’d always be the one to carry you, especially now.

What did stick with him was his horrible Robin humor, which was what you believed he was using when he popped such an unexpected question.

“What?” Came your first response, a nervous laugh leaving your lips. A strange warm throb formed in your heart, thudding rapidly in your chest.

“What did you say?”

“Marry me.” He repeats again, never putting off that firm expression plastered on his face.

What an untimely thing to say in the calm before an unknown storm. Both of you were out of breath after chatting for an hour, sipping on thick melted shakes and laughing over the previous Boy Wonder.

“Jason, this isn’t funny.” You peer down at your cup, nearly finished with its contents. He always got your favorite.

“You’re right,” He agrees, his tone a little too calm to be considered any sort of joke.

All possibility of opportunity to pop a laugh and admit he was joking weighed heavily in the air, carried around by the nightly breeze. He never says he’s joking, never shrugs off such an alarming, mind blowing question.

“What if you’re kidding?” Your denial still leaks through, making his lips twitch upwards. It has to be a joke, he wouldn’t say it like this.

“What if I’m not?” He casually responds, nearly wearing down your patience.

“You’re not joking, are you?”

“I’m not.”

“Jason.” Saying his name so softly, littered with fear and hesitancy makes his second life heart melt. Being so sweet on his girl, even after his death, taught him a great lesson about time.

Regardless if he didn’t arrive at nine o’ clock sharp, or if you arrived two minutes late, time could easily be taken away, ruining everything.

He remains quiet, watching your flustered expression vary from your hands along your cup before setting it down beside you. Taking this chance, he gently grasps hold of your hand before it had a chance to retreat into the safety of your jacket pocket.

“I meant what I said,” Jason speaks again in a more calm, soothing tone of voice. “I know this ain’t traditional. I don’t exactly do traditional, but … I wanna marry you.”

His hand squeezes yours, making you hesitant to speak further. He was serious, the realization was heavily daunting in such a unique way. A unique, exciting way.

“Why?” You look at him again, swallowing slowly as he leans closer, nearly making you anticipate a kiss.

Instead, his forehead settles against yours, taking in the rich, crystalline serenity of your unique, radiant beauty.

“Because,” he mutters, “You waited for me.”

Dedication, patience, hope; That was worth more to him than gold, worth much more than the bag of valuables he knew you didn’t steal.

“I have a ring for ya,” Jason continues on whilst his thumb strokes along the back of your hand. “If you don’t like it, I’ll getcha whatever you want. We’ll have as big of a wedding as you want, then we’re gonna go somewhere.”

“Somewhere?” You whisper.

“Yeah. Just you and me; no crime fighting, no danger. Nothing. Just us.”

“Just us?”

“Yeah babygirl,” Jason peers into your eyes, wanting to coo at your noticeable tears. “Wherever you want. I’ll follow you anywhere.”

You just needed to say yes.

You couldn’t help but giggle with an overwhelming mix of emotions, your trembling hand reaching up to settle behind his hooded head.

“Why do I feel like,” you nearly laugh in between your words. “Why do I get this feeling you put the ring in my cup?”

“An’ ruin a perfectly good five dollar shake?” Jason expresses in surprise, chuckling along with your giddy laughter. “C’mon babe. I’m not that inconspicuous.”

“Then where is it?”

Jason tilts his head, raising a brow. “Why’re you asking, kitty cat? Plan on stealing it?”

“No,” you muse, your nose nearly bumping against his.

“You expecting me to slip it on right about now?” His hand finds purchase along your hip, cradling your supple body. “Dosent work unless you—“

You cut him off via a kiss, one he graciously accepts.

You tasted like cherry sublime mixed with the highlife, a good life where you always existed in it. If he were to die again, he needed to know that he went with one successful accomplishment. Marrying his Robinhood sweetheart.

“Yes,” you whisper, those tears you worked so hard to hold back cascading down your cheeks. “I’ll marry you, Jason.”

In knowing him since he was Robin, till you met him as the muscular, ever brooding Red Hood, you’ve never seen the man smile so big. His eyes shining brighter than the moon that was ever so beautiful tonight.

Grasping hold of your hips, he pulls you into his arms, carelessly tilting over his half finished milkshake cup in the process. His lips find you once more after sitting you in his lap, muscled forearms snuggly hugging around your waist, holding you as physically close to him as possible.

“The ring I gotcha-“ he muffles against your pretty lips in between kisses. “- is at my place. Waiting for you—on my bed.”

Your laugh was all you could respond with. From the very start, it’s as if he planned this all out. All it took was a bag of misplaced valuables and the promise of a five dollar shake.

[a-spes]

Before the Storm. (N. R. x W. M. x R). — Part One, 'Invisible Torments'. (2,293 words).

" From the ashes of a fallen kingdom, a threat that everyone thought was defeated shall rise once more, sentencing a second realm to the same fate. The prophecy foretells that the apparition of a young woman where she never belonged will herald the end of everything. Can the impending doom be forestalled, or will the destruction of Earth become inevitable? "

| Tags & Warnings — Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff x Enhanced!Reader. Mention of Suicidal and Depressive Thoughts (Natasha), Canonical Violence, Brief Mention of a Car Accident.

| SERIES MASTERLIST - MAIN MASTERLIST - REQUEST GUIDELINES. previous part. - next part.

Despite the whole team being gathered in the room, it was silent.

An unusual, heavy silence, caused by the gravity of the situation, and that left no room for the jokes and teasing that would usually be exchanged between the heroes.

None of them knew what was going on, but the minutes seemed like an eternity while they were waiting for the director to eventually arrive. None of them needed to know the details to feel the urgency of this meeting. Fury was a wise man, despite what some may say, and he knew better than to pull the ringer for nothing. Crisis meetings were rarely held, and it had never been for anything less than a threat to the very existence of humanity.

If no one was talking, it is because they were busy remembering the events that had followed the last meeting of this kind — A catastrophe. Something that had happened many years ago, but the memories were still imprinted in the minds of those that were already a part of the team at that time. It was impossible to forget the chaos and destruction that had ensued. They may have won, but at what price? The lives they lost, and those that were destroyed, still weighed on their minds, and they had spent the following years hoping that they would never find themselves around this table again.

But here they are, several years later, with the same fear that knotted their insides.

If no one spoke, it is because they were all trying to guess what lay ahead. Yet, the possibilities were endless, often surprising, and none of them could have guessed the words spoken by Fury when he entered the meeting room.

The job was exhausting, and the heroes could never rest. Their victories were never more than temporary, each threat being quickly replaced by a far more dangerous one. The Avengers, despite their title of saviors of the earth, were playing a game they couldn’t win. As the years went by, and the battles followed on another, it became harder for the heroes to convince themselves that it was all worth it. The dead were numbered in the thousands, and it seemed that they were only delaying the inevitable destruction of humanity.

This possibility was even more difficult for the former spy to accept.

This job was supposed to be her redemption, a way of eventually wiping the red off her ledger, but if the woman wanted to use her skills to do some good, it seemed that only destruction followed her every step. Every threat was immediately replaced by another, and every victory inevitably stained by deaths and destroyed lives, a cost she no longer wanted to pay. 

And then, somewhere in that infinite loop, the redhead eventually lost her hopes.

If she hadn’t yet resigned herself to leave the team, it is because her fears were holding her back. After all, the woman knew nothing else in the world except this job which, despite its difficulties, offered her the comfort of familiarity. But recently it has become harder to accept that being a heroine, and saving the world, was nothing more than a pipe dream.

The world can’t be saved, and neither could she.

The redhead had eventually learned that it was pointless to hope, because it is nothing more than a way of putting off the inevitable, and so, as she watches the man entering the room, she prepares herself for the worst — The destruction, pain, and deaths. 

Maybe hers this time, if she is lucky enough.

She hasn’t told anyone about the thoughts that sometimes arise in her mind, and she won’t even admit it to herself, because it is definitely easier to pretend that everything is fine. She doesn’t want to think about how the job that saved her life, by giving her a second chance, is the one that is now tearing her away from that same life.

When Fury, the man that they were all waiting for, eventually enters the room, Natasha tries to read his next words in his features, but it gives her no clue. He looks serious, and tense — He looks the exact same as he always does.

“So, are you finally going to tell us what this is all about?” Steve asked. It is rare to see the man lose his patience, but the situation was beginning to weigh on the minds of even the wisest members of the team.

“I am going to do better than that,” the man said, pausing for a moment before continuing, “I am going to show you,” and as he says these words, the lights go out. 

And there, projected large on the wall they were facing, the Avengers could all contemplate the reasons for their presence here, the great danger that was threatening humanity, captured by one of the city’s video surveillance cameras.

The former spy’s sharp eyes immediately searched the poor-quality image they were shown for any clues. At first sight, it was nothing more than an ordinary moment of a day that was like any other, just a view of a street of New-York that looked exactly like any other street would. Despite the early hour, a never-ending parade of cars and pedestrians was already taking place, bringing the street to life — The city that never goes out. It was not a myth, and the city was just like its heroes; it knew no rest.

The woman observed the people that were walking in a hurry, and she had no trouble imagining the car horns that must have sounded as soon as someone took a bit too long to start up at the green light — Where did these people go, to be so impatient?

And, as the scene drags on for several seconds without anything happening, she allows her thoughts to wander a little from the reason for her presence here, joining the ballet of these strangers for the span of a few minutes. No one noticed that, behind her sharp gaze, her attention was absent. Instead of watching the video, Natasha was thinking about where she would go if she got a chance to walk alongside these strangers. 

It is a question she had asked herself many times before, one that had kept her awake at night, enveloping her soul in an oppressive feeling as she was thinking about all the possible answers. She could have been so many things if she had been nothing more than just a name, a face among so many others, one that people wouldn’t even be able to recognize in the streets. She would have settled for little. She would have accepted even the most mundane life, the most boring to those who had it, if it meant that her life would have the normality she craved. She would not be a heroine that they would admire, nor a spy that they would hate, but nothing more than a little girl that could have followed her dreams. Yet, life can be cruel, and it had taken away all choice from her before she had even taken her first steps in this world — Who would she have been? That is a question she will never find the answer to.

A sudden change in the monotonous scene they were being shown drew her attention back to the screen. It was a sudden agitation that, by breaking the routine, had managed to capture her attention once again, chasing away the thoughts that had preoccupied her a few moments earlier. No one had noticed her absence, and it was almost as if she had never wandered off, the woman now observing the scene with rapt attention.

Events unfolded with such rapidity that she would have missed them if she had blinked at the wrong moment. A young woman had entered the camera’s frame, and she would easily have blended in with the rest of the crowd if she hadn’t been acting weirdly. Although she seemed to be in a hurry, her quick steps were nothing like the ones of someone hurrying to work, and they were far from the calm pace of a sportswoman. Her run was frantic, and erratic.

Natasha could not see her facial features, but she didn’t need it to guess the fear that this young woman was feeling. All she had to do was to observe her body language, and the way she was constantly looking at her surroundings was enough of a clue. It was as if she was scared of someone, or something, but she was the only one to see the threat. Indeed, the crowd remained relatively calm, and new-yorkers only stopped their relentless march when she jostled them.

Everyone expected the reason for her panic to appear on the screen at any moment, but it never did, and the ‘monster’ never showed up, the threat to humanity remaining faceless and formless for time being, much to their disappointment. Yet, in concentrating on that, the heroes almost missed the really important events.

A few seconds later, the young woman’s run came to an abrupt, and tragic, halt. As she tried to cross the road, without looking left or right, without using a crosswalk, the inevitable happened. She was lucky enough that the first two cars in her path managed to avoid her, but it had its limits, and the truck that came after didn’t have time to brake, or divert, that it had already hit her head-on. The impact had been so violent that the girl had been propelled several meters. 

The shock is so swift that it left everyone blissfully surprised, even the spy. The video may have no sound, but she can easily make out the screams of the passers-by. They finally stopped for a moment — Perhaps they were in a hurry, but their business could wait if it meant meddling with others’. The video stops as some people start moving towards the truck, which had ended up in a storefront, and all the heroes’ eyes are now on Fury.

They were hoping for answers, but they only found more questions.

“So, you bothered us for… a crazy woman?” Tony spoke, and he is the first one to do so — Probably because he is the only one who is never at a loss for words, the others being too surprised to say anything. “Damn it, Fury! We are the Avengers, not a hospice,” he added in response to the other man’s silence.  

However, the director remains calm and impassive in the face of the billionaire’s impatience. Yet, Natasha is certain that there was a lot more to this video than just a ‘crazy woman’, why would he have shown it to them otherwise? She knew Fury, and he is not the kind that does things at random, let alone waste resources — S.H.I.E.L.D.’s time and money are too precious to him. There must have been something else, some detail they had missed and that would explain everything they couldn’t understand until now.

The man proves her right when he plays the video again. However, while they could all recognize the scene of the accident, the angle of view was a bit different, being zoomed in on a silhouette that was in the background, one they could barely see in the original video. Despite the poor quality, they can distinguish the young woman who is lying on the ground. For several seconds, nothing happens, and everything seems to stand still — Until she stands up, resuming her run as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn’t been hit by the truck less than a minute before. As the scene unfolds in front of their eyes, the heroes realize that the threat has been there all along, hiding under the guise of a ‘crazy’ looking woman.

“And what do we know about her?” Natasha immediately asked. She was slumped back in her seat, arms crossed as she glared at the director. Yet, despite appearances, she was taking the mission very seriously; if the man had a hunch about this girl, the woman knew it was best to trust him and act accordingly.

“That’s for you to find out, Romanoff,” he replied with a wry smile. As he talked, he waved a folder at her, the one he would hand over to her later, when the meeting was over and the questions had been answered — Or at least some of them, because the heroes soon realized that the information available was meager.

And indeed, when she opened the file several hours later, she realized just how complicated this mission would be. The night had fallen on the city, and she had settled into one of the common areas. A fire crackled in the fireplace, and she made herself comfortable with a blanket and some hot drink. Some people liked to read to relax, but what she really enjoyed was immersing herself in a new mission, reading files and trying to make connections between the different pieces of evidence. It was a familiar and easy activity. 

However, she didn’t have much to read in this one. There were only a few wills collected from passers-by who happened to be near the scene of the accident, but nothing they said was interesting, and most of them hadn’t even laid eyes on the victim long enough to be able to describe her. There were also screenshots of the surveillance video that they watched, but also of others that attest to her presence in different parts of the city. 

But that was all. There was no name, no story, just a pixelated face that seemed to belong to no one — Almost as if the woman appeared from nowhere.

| SERIES MASTERLIST - MAIN MASTERLIST - REQUEST GUIDELINES. previous part. - next part.

| Tag list — @queen-of-chaotic-surprises

[voice-of-the-tired]

(ramblings of a madman upcoming. this is borderline nonsensical but I just gotta get this out there)

ugh, I LOVE the voices parallels so much. they make me insane. and I've been thinking about opportunist/hunted and skeptic/smitten the most rn.

for the first two, in their respective chapter 2s they are survival responses put in situations where said responses are entirely reasonable, but will end up reinforcing the "status quo" if entertained. this is somewhat the case with most of the voices, but I think it's especially noticeable with them.

the opportunist has a "betray them before they ever get the chance to betray you" mentality, and would you look at that, the witch has the very same mentality! and he is CORRECT in thinking she will betray you. because she will. but by following him and what he thinks, you're just making it impossible to break the cycle of violence (this is literally the point of the thorn).

the hunted behaves... well, like prey, and uh. the beast IS a predator. he IS prey. she is hunting them. but if you just follow your instincts you'll never be able to free her, or defeat her, or leave together or learn about reconciliation or do anything else that isn't survive.

so their situations are reinforcing their behaviour, then their behaviour in turn reinforces their situation; they are stuck in a cycle. at least with the hunted you can have the skeptic to make a plan later on in the den, I guess. but it's still a fascinating thing.

I think the stubborn and the broken chapters are a bit similar to them in this regard, but those have more to do with giving meaning to the princess and choosing whether or not you should fight against it in the end. it's a bit of a different situation. skeptic and smitten also don't quite... doom themselves if you just follow them, even though they actively feed into the chapter's "concepts", because they're sort of "tools" made to complement and help you towards your goal (free the princess through skepticism or blind devotion) as opposed to survival responses.

talking about them... oh boy, skeptic and smitten in their respective chapter 2s. you can just go through with whatever the plan was (leave with her), but if you don't, they won't ever get the only thing they sought and will hurt others (and themselves) in their desperation. you take away smitten's happy ending, and you leave skeptic without answers, and to that they just. fucking lose it. going with the previous tool comparation, you could say that's what happens when a "tool" isn't useful in a specific situation any longer. it can't do anything else except for its designated function. so

when the illusion that love makes everything possible and that all you and the princess needed was each other shattered, the smitten couldn't believe it. this was everything he ever wanted and everything he knew; you are the hero. she is a damsel. you are in love. you save the damsel and live happily ever after. that's what HAD to happen, and if it didn't, then it will. he has to make it happen, because it can't and shouldn't work in any other way.

in the prisoner, if you don't take her head, you are shoved into eternal nothingness while left with only questions. what is this place? who is the narrator? what is he hiding? who is the princess? why is she locked up? how could she end the world? is there a world? where is it? why are we the ones doing this? why did the princess cut off her head? not only could they not go through with saving the princess like they tried before, but there are SO many questions, and skeptic didn't get any answers! they can't be left unanswered, the truth HAS to be unraveled. that's what he's been trying to do all along. it's the only thing that matters. they WILL keep going and they WILL figure it out.

they are too obsessed to care about anything else. they are too stuck in their tunnel vision to accept anything else. they are too far gone to do anything else.

lord help me I am going insane because of this game /pos