#my inbox is open if you wanna fight about it

[that-one-girl2020]

Saja Boys x Rumi’s Sister! Reader Pt. 7

A/N: Thank you for 1,500 followers!

Okay, this is the last official part of this short series but I have more ideas for headcanons and one-shots for this series! Like, first kisses with the boys, maybe a smut, the Saja Boys and Mira and Zoey confronting Celine about how she raised the mc and Rumi, etc. So if you have ideas about headcanon or one-shot ideas tied to this series, you can send it to my inbox or add it in the comments!

I hope this is as satisfying as you guys hoped it would be!

TW: Grief, mourning, etc.

Word Count: 3,718

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6

(Reminder: Baby = Jum, Romance = Chungae, Mystery = Hyeon, Abby = Kwan)

Rumi sighed pleasantly, sinking deeper into the hot water as steam wafted around her. “Wow. This feels amazing.”

“We’ve been saying that for years,” Mira groaned contently, her eyes barely slipping open to look at her.

“Right? See what you’ve been missing?” Zoey mused, a loopy grin on her face.

“Oh yeah. I wanna come here every day of our three month hiatus…”

“Girls, I’m so glad you and (Y/n) didn’t, like, die…?” Zoey suddenly brought up, grimacing at her own words.

“Wow Zoey, way to be super literal,” Mira smirked, peaking her eyes open to look at their maknae lazily. “But same.”

Zoey started blubbering, sniffling and trying to stop but it was pointless, “I just… you guys just mean so much to me, and I don’t really know what I’d do without you…” Zoey descended into incomprehensible tearful babbling.

Zoey’s tears began Mira’s own crying and then Rumi followed right after them.

You couldn’t help but chuckle and shake your head from where you sat between your sister and Mira as the three blubbered.

How did you get to this point again…?

~~~

Rumi gripped your sword tighter in her hands, not minding if the blade cut her hand. She refused to let go of it as the three girls silently made their way back to the tower after leaving Namsan tower. They had reassured Bobby that everything was okay and that they would actually be taking that break now. But, they still had a lot to talk about—Rumi’s past, the Saja Boys, their fight… you.

There was a space besides them that felt achingly empty as they went up the elevator.

The three silently traipsed from the elevator, their steps heavy as they sat on the couch. They sat in mournful silence, gathered around the sword that had come from your soul.

Eventually, Mira set a hesitant hand on Rumi’s shoulder. “Rumi…” she sighed, her heart clenching at what she would have to say. “You have to let it go at some point.”

Rumi held your sword tighter in response, a drop of blood staining the rug beneath them. A tear fell from her eye. “No.”

“Rumi…” Zoey sighed softly, resting her hand on Rumi’s other shoulder, leaning her head on Rumi’s sadly.

“No,” Rumi shook her head adamantly. “I won’t let her go.”

“But, the sword isn’t her, Rumi,” Mira tried to tell her. Logically, she knew this. But a part of her didn’t want Rumi to let go of the sword either.

“I know,” Rumi choked out. “I know that, but… it’s the last part of her in this world. How can I let that go?”

Mira and Zoey were quiet, unable to say anything because there wasn’t anything to say in this situation. All they could do was offer comfort to each other as they mourned the loss of their sister, Rumi’s cries filling the silence.

Rumi knew she would have to let the sword go and once she did, it would dissipate into the rainbow Honmoon. She couldn’t think of sleeping or eating or doing anything if it meant there was a chance of her letting go of your sword.

But she had to let you rest.

“(Y/n)… I’m so sorry for the way I treated you,” Rumi told your sword, your soul humming through it. “I wasn’t a good sister for you and I wasn’t there when you needed me. I should’ve done better for you… Thank you for protecting me when I needed it most, and I hope you can forgive me someday… I love you…”

Zoey set her hand over Rumi’s on the blade of your sword, “(Y/n), I’m sorry for not hearing you out. You’ve always listened to me and the one time it counted, I didn’t return it… From now on, I’ll do better at listening. And I’ll write a super sweet song in your memory! Just… I hope you know that you were like a sister to me, (Y/n).” Zoey wiped her eyes, laughing wetly as she rested her head on Rumi’s shoulder.

Mira sighed, placing her hand over Zoey’s on your sword blade, “I’m… sorry (Y/n). I jumped ahead and called you a traitor without even hearing you out… I’ve never been great at expressing myself, but… you always just accepted me, even when I was being prickly. I’m sorry I didn’t return the favor. I hope you know that you’ll always be family to me.”

The three girls were silent. They knew the time had come to let you go but they held on just a little bit longer. Just a little bit more time with you…

“Goodbye… (Y/n)…” Rumi whispered tearfully. Slowly the girls let go of your sword. They watched as it floated from Rumi’s lap, the sword dissipating in a cruel reflection of the way you died, bit by bit fading out until it was a floating orb of light purple, pink and blue hues.

The girls were breath taken but their hearts were heavy as they watched. They had never seen something like this before. It was more beautiful than the Honmoon itself, watching your soul depart.

They blinked when the one orb suddenly split into several. Five orbs of different shades of light purple and pink and blue circled around a single orb in the middle, flying and swirling around it… happily. Then the orb in the middle seemed to shake itself, perking up as it joined the joyful dance around each other, dipping and spinning and chasing each other faster and faster until the girls had to close their eyes as the lights combined and got too bright.

“AH!”

The girls’ eyes popped open when they heard the sudden yelp and several thumps. Their eyes widened at the sight before them, latching onto each other in shock, “Ahhhh!”

“Ahhhh!”

“AhHHHH!”

“AhHHHH!”

“Why are we screaming!?”

“(Y/N)!” The girls scrambled off the couch in a rush of tangled limbs and tackled you. The breath was knocked out of your lungs and your back hurt from landing so harshly on the ground, not once but twice.

You honestly had no idea what happened. One moment you were singing with the Saja Boys and then Rumi arrived and reunited with Mira and Zoey. And Rumi was buckling under the force of Gwi Ma and then you were shielding her. After that, your memories were vague. You had some fuzzy memories of… being a sword…? Had you been dreaming?

“Wait, (Y/n)?!” You heard Kwan’s voice and then the bundle of four girls was being lifted so you could be squished by five more people.

You were confused for a moment as you were surrounded by eight sobbing young adults. But then you felt your heart warm and you smiled, tears trailing down your own face at the feeling of being so loved.

“We thought you were dead!”

“Never do that again!”

“You stupid idiot!”

“Don’t scare us like that…”

“I’m so sorry, (Y/n)!”

Yeah… You wouldn’t trade the world for your eight blubbering babies.

“Sorry for worrying you guys…” You apologized, offering comfort in whatever way you could with your arms squished to your sides.

“Wait a minute,” Mira’s eyes were suddenly dry, snapping open to look slowly at the Saja Boys that were in their group hug. “What are you doing here?!”

The group hug suddenly dispersed, the Saja Boys on one side, Mira, Zoey, and Rumi on the other with you in the middle of the two groups, whipping your head back and forth between the two groups with wide, confused eyes.

‘Did they… not work together after you… died…?’

The Saja Boys awkwardly side-eyed each other.

“Didn’t you guys die or something?!” Zoey yelled.

Your head whipped around to look at the boys who sheepishly avoided your gaze, “Wait. You guys died?! How?!”

“Uhm,” Rumi started, “After you… died, they kinda just surrendered and started flaking away Thanos style.”

Your eyes widened at Rumi’s explanation. Then your head whipped back around to look at the guys who were slowly backing away. “You guys just gave up?!”

Jinu shrugged awkwardly, his shoulders going up to his ears as he avoided your eyes with a grimace, “Well… You died and…”

“We swore to follow wherever you wanted to go,” Hyeon explained more bluntly, the slightest bit of a whine in the tone of his voice. Not a childish whine, more like the whine of a scolded dog.

“So you decided to follow me into death?!” You couldn’t help but wave your arms incredulously. You sighed and facepalmed, closing your eyes in defeat. “We all need therapy. Like, now.”

“Might be hard with your current look,” Mira smirked, looking you up and down pointedly. “You look sick though.”

You blinked, looking down at yourself. Oh. You still had a lot of your demon features. Your skin color was back to normal, if a little more gray than before, and the patterns were a lot lighter. But your fingers were a normal length now, your claws weren’t as long now. But you could feel that your teeth were still sharper than a normal human’s and your eyes still glowed amber at you in your reflection in the window.

You looked back at the boys and their appearances had changed as well. Their reaper clothes were gone, back in their human clothes now. Their skin tones weren’t the dark lilac they had been before, more of a gray now as well. Their patterns weren’t purple anymore, they looked closer to black now, more like tattoos. Other than that, most of their other features were still the same.

“Oh,” You blinked. “I think I’ll be alright once my eyes chill, but the boys…” You trailed off. “Can you guys still use your demon powers?”

“Maybe. It feels a little limited though…” Kwan responded.

“We can try though,” Jum chimed in. One by one a ripple of demon energy pulsed over the boys, leaving them with normal skin tones and eyes, no claws and their teeth much less sharp.

You tilted your head at them though, “You guys kept your patterns?” You noted. The black markings were only a light purple now but still covered their arms and necks, their faces the only things they had cleared of patterns. (Like how Jinu looked when Gwi Ma summoned him after the bathhouse fight).

The boys simply smiled, “We couldn’t let you and your sister have all the fun,” Jinu smirked cheekily.

Your heart warmed and you blushed, wanting to coo over the sweet gesture. You stepped towards them, raising your hands to cradle Jum and Hyeon’s faces as the five boys gravitated towards you. “I love you boys. So much.”

The boys’ eyes teared up, their emotions crashing through them leaving them feeling too much all at once. You had died. And they thought you weren’t coming back. You are their hope, their guiding light. So they had followed you.

And now you were all here again, with them. And the Honmoon had been sealed. They hadn’t planned for that.

They were in the human world for good now. There would be no more second chances for them, this was officially it. So, for you, they would do their best to choose better. They had no doubts that you would accept them, flaws and all. But you deserved better than they were.

The six of you would need time. The things you all did, for each other and for themselves were things that they couldn’t just forget or accept as part of themselves just yet. Maybe that was why you all retained so many demonic features.

However, for now? They clutched you tight, wrapping you in their arms as they clutched at whatever part of you they could reach. They closed their eyes as tears dripped down cheeks, leaning their heads against yours as they felt your warmth, breathed in your scent, swallowed back their fading grief.

“Please don’t leave us again…”

The six of you stood together for a long moment, basking in each other’s presence to reassure each of you that you were all there and all alive.

Rumi stepped forward and the boys tensed around you, still weary of the Hunters. You moved to stand in front of them, a barrier between your sister and the boys. Rumi ignored them though, taking your hands in hers, “(Y/n), I’m so sorry for how I treated you. Nothing I say could ever make up for what I did, the lack of appreciation I’ve shown you in the past few years… But I hope you can forgive me someday and we can rebuild our relationship.”

Mira and Zoey joined, adding their hands on top of yours to make it a little huddle as they rested their free hands on your shoulders. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to what you had to say, (Y/n). You’ve always listened to me and I should’ve done the same,” Zoey added softly.

“And I’m sorry for calling you a traitor and… saying we’d kill you…” Mira added slowly, looking down in shame and guilt. “I should’ve heard you out and accepted you like you’ve always done for me…”

You smiled gently, cursing internally at your watering eyes. “Thanks girls…” Your smile fell into a small frown as you looked at your joined hands. “I don’t know if I can forgive you three yet, and I’ll definitely never forget, but I do love you guys and want to rebuild our relationships.”

The girls smiled sadly but they accepted your words easily. Whatever you needed. The four of you would have to talk more, there was still the conversation of how you and Rumi had kept your patterns hidden hanging over them. But that could be another time.

“So…” Jinu broke up the tender moment. “Can we stay the night?” He gestured to the other boys and himself.

The girls blanched. “Uhm. No.” Mira refused bluntly.

“Come on,” Kwan groaned, crossing his arms with a frown, “You’re not the only ones who lost (Y/n) when she…”

“Yeah,” Chungae swooped in, covering up how Kwan trailed off. “We were asking more out of courtesy than anything.”

Mira growled, the two fellow pinkettes grating on her nerves. But Zoey, ever the chipper girl, gasped excitedly as she had a realization, “We can have a sleepover! We can all sleep out here and order food and eat a bunch of junk food and get to know each other!”

And that was how you ended up at a sleepover with your five demon… boyfriends? Well, no one really wanted to leave your side that day.

Or any of the days that followed.

~~~

After that, the girls and the guys had gotten at least… a little more comfortable with each other.

It got better when the boys helped the four of you find the returning souls of the fans. They would just appear in different places around the city, lost and confused, having no memories of what had happened to them or how much time had passed.

During your sleepover, the nine of you had brainstormed and made a statement that you had a health scare which raised tension within Huntr/x, especially since you had wanted to debut as a solo performer, but the boys had supported you even through the health scare. This statement would explain to fans why the pallor of your skin had shifted just a little and also mention how you and Rumi had been born with birth defects that you both had tried hard to hide up till now.

The fans were supportive, glad that the group was taking a hiatus to rest and recover. A lot of fanart of you and Rumi with your patterns and supportive captions filled social media. The fans were especially giddy when the Saja Boys had explained when asked by a fan that they had gotten tattoos in support of their girlfriend, making it official. More fanart came after that.

After the girls and you had talked it out, it seemed like Rumi, Zoey, and Mira were much closer. It was only a matter of time in your opinion, until the three became Polytr/x. The boys agreed with you.

“Couch, couch, couch!” The four of you chanted as you left the bathhouse.

“(Y/n), are you sleeping at the tower tonight?” Rumi asked you.

“Mira’s cooking tonight!” Zoey cheered.

“I’m gonna burn your taste buds off,” Mira smirked proudly. There was a reason people called her the ‘Spice Queen.’ After what happened and you spending more time out of the tower, the girls had started trying their hands at cooking and taking up more chores.

You chuckled, “Sorry girls, I told the boys we could have a movie night. I’ve kinda gotten them hooked on Disney and Ghibli movies…”

Mira snickered, “Good. Don’t be too surprised if I pop in tonight. Gotta get my revenge on Chungae and Kwan,” she punched her hand, the fire of competitive determination flaring in her eyes.

Yeah… Chungae, Kwan, and Mira were having some kind of competition every other day it seemed. Lately, they had taken to surprise Nerf attacks, gaining and losing points based on successful hits assassin style. Last weekend, Jum had joined their spicy food contest and trumped all three of them smugly.

Zoey and Hyeon got along surprisingly well when her fangirling over him had died quickly. You would often see Zoey rambling excitedly as Hyeon nodded along, a small smile on his lips as the younger girl painted his nails.

And Jinu and Rumi acted like the siblings that neither ever wished for. After Jinu apologized and the two talked it out, the two went back to building their friendship. Jinu found amusement in poking at Rumi’s buttons, the two often bickering or debating over little things. But they also often had deep talks or talked about music ideas.

You didn’t wanna think about the shovel talk the girls gave to your boys… You weren’t supposed to overhear, but you were trying your hand at baking in the kitchen and the girls didn’t really know how to be very discreet…

“Oh!” Zoey gasped in remembrance, shaking your arm excitedly, “We gotta work on that collaboration song soon! I have so. Many. Ideas!”

Oh yeah. You had also decided to debut as a solo artist after the whole ‘Your Idol’ fiasco. Fans had accepted the ‘Your Idol’ x ‘What It Sounds Like’ concert as just another show, but had started flooding the internet with theories of who the female singer with the Saja Boys had been. Since you were under dim, red lighting and in demon form, no one had been able to recognize you—although there were some theories that it was you.

Even after those events, it wasn’t hard for you to realize that you wanted to keep performing—keep singing and dancing on stage. Both Huntr/x and the Saja Boys had offered for you to join their groups, almost fighting each other for the right to have you, but you ultimately decided to be a solo artist. You felt like if you had joined either of the groups, you would fall into old habits and become too passive. But you had accepted Bobby’s offer on being your manager since you two had worked together for so long.

Bobby still grumbled about how the Saja Boys didn’t have a manager or anything yet but was satisfied when they had signed under the company so they had access to the billions worth of resources.

You chuckled, nodding, “Yeah, I’ve got a lot of ideas to share too.” You kinda blinked when you realized Zoey was wearing an oversized yellow hoodie with Derpy the Tiger’s face on it. ‘Where had she gotten that…? Was Jinu making Derpy merch…?’

The four of you stopped when you noticed four girls in Huntr/x merch meeting up just up ahead. “Aw, look at them. They’re so cute.”

“You know, I feel like we got a nice little break,” Rumi mused with a smile.

“Yeah, I definitely feel recharged,” Mira agreed easily, crossing her arms.

“Me too. I thought I wanted couch, but I think couch can wait,” Zoey leant on Rumi’s arm. “(Y/n)?”

You smiled, “I got time ‘till the boys will start feeling withdrawal,” You shrugged.

Together, the four of you walked over, ��Hi everyone!” Rumi called, the four of you waving at the shocked girls. You weren’t surprised when you kind of fell to the wayside of things as the girls started gushing over Rumi, Zoey, and Mira.

You were surprised when one of the girls turned to you, “And (Y/n) too! There’s rumors going around that you’re gonna debut as a solo artist soon! I just finished a drawing of you and the Saja Boys, would you please sign it?”

You blinked. You had never been asked to sign something unless it was paperwork. You were shaken from your thoughts by an arm resting on your shoulders. You looked up to see it was Kwan, “Wouldn’t you like to have the full set?”

“Guys? What’re you doing here?” You asked curiously with a fond smile.

Arms wrapped around your waist from behind, a nose pressed to the crook of your neck, “Missed you,” Hyeon murmured simply.

“I’ve only been gone a few hours,” You jokingly rolled your eyes. You rested your hands over his, leaning back against him affectionately.

“Even a few minutes away from you is too much, darling,” Chungae smirked at his smooth line while you shook your head at his antics.

“A few seconds is more like it,” Kwan pouted dramatically.

“You’ll let me choose the movie tonight, right, beautiful?” Jum tugged on your sleeve to get your attention.

“You and Chungae picked ‘Howl’s Moving Castle’ last time, Jum, let someone else pick,” Jinu chided the maknae with a little smirk, smiling at you fondly. He turned to look at the girl who looked like she was about to erupt, shaking with excitement and a huge grin on her face, “Is it alright if we signed your drawing too?”

“Of course!”

Yeah, there were still things you needed to do. Therapy being one of them. But for now, you were safe, loved, and comfortable. You were happy.

A/N: Yeah, so the mc and the Saja Boys don’t kiss or anything here, that’ll be in the parts I write later because it just didn’t feel right…?

Outtakes:

*During Part 6*

The Saja Boys, Huntr/x, everyone: *Battle ready* “We are going to protect/save (Y/n)!

You: “I’m going to hold your hand when I tell you this…”

(This one was by @ph1lo-s0ph1a and I thought it was great!)

…

*Inside the Sword*

You: *Looking around at the rainbow glow, sparkles, and constellations floating around you* “…Am I high…?”

The Saja Boys: *Somewhere* “(Y/N)!? WHERE ARE YOU?!”

Mystery: *sobbing*

Abby: *trying to swat sparkles out of his face so he can find you*

Jinu: *Habitually trying to summon Derpy and Sussie to search for you*

Baby: *squinting from the too bright rainbow glows* “I can’t see her…”

Romance: *Using the stars to spell out your name to try and signal you, sobbing* “(Y/n)…”

…

*Back during Part 3*

The Saja Boys: *Trying to decide who gets to spend time with you in what order* “Okay… Rock Paper Scissors!” “Ah, NO!” “Betrayed!” “Damn.” “Hehehe!”

…

You: *Looking at Rumi, Mira, and Zoey seriously* “Look. Rumi is my twin sister. But you two are also sisters to me.”

Mira and Zoey: *touched and teary eyed* “Awww…”

You: “Therefore. If any of you hurts one another, I will, objectively, have to kill all of you in the most gruesome way I can manage—which is a lot because I have five demon boyfriends and my own demonic abilities now.”

Polytr/x: *grimacing* “Oh, yeesh…”

…

Romance: “(Y/n) will you be the Sophie to my Howl?”

You: “I don’t know, are you gonna get me a flying castle and a talking fire demon?”

Romance: *Getting Gwi Ma flashbacks* “Uhmmmm…”

…

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[polysucks]

*hits vape* the real confirmation that Jon is Lyanna and Rhaegar’s kid is the fact that Ghost is white. Something something Targaryen hair.

[reidrum]

how dare you think it's romantic, leaving me safe and stranded

A/N: if i stared at this any longer it would never see the light of day...so here she is! this is the longest fic i've ever written and i'm kinda gagged about that but i really hope you like it and if you don't that's okay too this is just silly angsty brainrot anyways thanks for reading this my inbox is open if you wanna yap more summary: in which your kidnapping forces you and spencer to face the fallout following your recently ended relationship cw: angst, hurt/comfort, reader is kidnapped/held hostage, implications and mentions of SA to reader but nothing happens, cm type violence, ex!spencer, lowkey lovers to enemies back to lovers, cat adams, medical jargon, miscommunication trope, the bau team is family, afab!reader, pet names wc: 5.1k

Every case you and Spencer have been on has been insufferable for the rest of the team since your falling out, if it had to be given a name. Everyone always had to deal with your constant bickering and harsh words. It was the same in every case, a difference of opinions that led to incessant fighting between you two, Hotch would have to separate you both and use your joint intelligence separately for the sake of keeping everyone alive.

This last case was nothing different, a serial killer in Athens, Georgia who was religiously sacrificing young women in the name of a cult. Both of you fighting over what you believed the other to be wrong about in their part for solving the case. Spencer thought the unsub would have struck in a zone closer to his home, you assumed he was only going after women who resembled someone in his life. The real problem was that you were both wrong.

And it ended with you being held hostage.

It all happened so fast. You were in the car with Spencer and Rossi driving out to the unsub’s house to check for new evidence when you had stopped at a gas station about 15 miles out from the house to refuel. Rossi got out of the car to pump the gas, Spencer sat in the passenger seat, and you went inside to use the bathroom and grab a quick snack.

You quickly washed your hands after finishing in the bathroom and wiped your hands on your pants, still slightly damp as you turn the handle of the door. As you’re perusing the aisle looking for a snack, you can feel the presence of watchful eyes on you. Casually, you slowly look up and around at the source and clock a figure an aisle over with a cap turned downward blocking their face. 

Your gut was sending flares up, telling you that danger was near. You nonchalantly walk over to the aisle he’s in, pretending to look at the nuts and dried fruits while attempting to get a look at his face. In a (maybe not so) bright idea, you think to knock a bag of nuts on the floor next to the lurker’s feet in the hopes he’ll bend down to pick it up for you.

With a push of your hand, the bag knocks off the shelf and onto the floor and you both bend down to pick it up.

“I’m so sorry about that,” you chuckle lightly, “I’m such a clutz.”

“No problem at all, Miss—.” He stops talking all of a sudden, you’re unsure why. You follow his gaze to your left hip where your FBI credentials are peaking out.

Shit.

He draws a weapon faster than you’re able to react with getting your own out, and by the time yours is out the barrel of his is flush with your forehead.

“Drop it.”

You quickly recognize the man as your unsub, miles away from his hunting ground and about to stray from his victimology with you.

“Come on, up. We’re going for a little ride.” He snarls, glancing outside at the black SUV with your colleagues. He grabs you by a hairful and drags you out the back door, shooting the gas station clerk before making the escape with you to his pickup truck. You’re shoved against the car door, back facing him, as he place a zip tie on your wrists and opens the door to sit you in the back seat. The unsub gets in the driver’s seat and starts the car, glaring at you through the rear view mirror, “I’m gonna have fun with you, fed.”

Meanwhile, back in the car Rossi stands at the pump waiting for the tank to fill and Spencer remains in the car looking over the case details once more. He can’t help but feel something is wrong, but can’t place his finger on it. He looks over the details again meticulously, searching for a fault anywhere in your, or even his own logic. Rossi closes the tank and hops back in the car, “She’s not back yet?” he pondered.

Spencer hadn’t even realized you weren’t back yet, “I guess not,” something wasn’t right, “She went ten minutes ago right?”

Rossi nods, opening his mouth to speak when a gunshot coming from the gas station cuts him off. The men look at each other, eyes widened and rush out of the car, weapons drawn.

“FBI!” Rossi enters, looking for any sign of you but coming up empty. Spencer takes note of the disheveled store, produce and cans lying astray. He steps around the mess to find an out of place bag of sour gummy worms on the floor in the middle of an aisle only filled with nuts and dried fruit. 

Sour gummy worms were your favorite.

A sinking feeling settles in Spencer as he tries to fight the reality his brain is trying to tell him. He looks to Rossi with a pained expression, and Rossi matches it back.

“He took her.”

___

The next few hours are a blur for Spencer.

Rossi called the team to meet them at the gas station, already telling Garcia to hack into the security cameras to find any clue of where he’d taken you. Emily and Derek were checking out the crime scene, Hotch and Rossi talking to the sheriff. JJ finds Spencer staring off onto the one road connected to the station.

“We’re gonna find her, Spence.”

He whips his head up at the sound of her voice, “I should’ve realized sooner. I knew there was something off about his MO, a—and I just couldn’t place it. And now she’s gone and it’s all my fault and I never—“

“Spencer,” JJ interrupts softly, “You couldn’t have known. None of us did, even her.”

“I should have,” he laments, “And if she…if something happens to her because I wasn’t paying attention…” He trails off, too afraid of what his brain thinks is the ending of the sentence.

JJ offers him a sympathetic look, understanding the conflicting emotions, “We’ll find her, she’s strong. You know that.”

He stares back at her hoping, praying, that she’s right and you’re going to be okay. You have to be.

He’s pulled out of his head by Morgan calling him and JJ over, telling Garcia on the phone to repeat her findings.

“Okay, I think I have a lead based on the security camera footage on the car he has and where it’s been last seen. I’m sending the last known coordinates to your phones now.” 

An idea springs to him, “Garcia, can you also check the gas station records and see how much he filled his tank?”

The clacking sounds of her keyboard ring through the phone before she speaks again, “He didn’t fill a full tank, only like, fifteen miles worth of gas.”

Everyone looks up at each other in realization of what the new information means. You had to be close by. Morgan walks over to tell Hotch, who immediately talks to a state ranger about setting up a 15 mile radius around the gas station with monitored roadblocks, no entry or exit without inspection.��

After Hotch finishes he walks back to Spencer and lays a hand on his shoulder, “Good job, Reid,” He nods back with a thin lipped smile and fiddles with his pen anxiously, “Are you okay?”. Spencer can’t tell if he’s genuinely asking him or if he’s asking him for the sake of him being able to do his job properly considering the circumstances. Ever the profiler that man is, he thinks.  He nods again nonetheless and walks over to meet Derek at the car.

Spencer and Derek get into the car and set the route for the coordinates Garcia gave, ETA 14 minutes. He swallows nervously, do you even have 14 minutes? What if he’s too late? What if you’re not even there? What if he never got to tell you—

“Reid. Are you even listening?”

“What?”

Derek raises his eyebrows as he glances at his friend, “Got something on your mind?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re a shit liar, man.”

“I’m not lying.” Even he doesn’t believe himself.

“Spencer—“

“I’m just worried! Okay? We’re all worried, it’s not a big deal.” he snaps.

Derek stops at a red light and looks over the console, “I’m going to ignore whatever that was,” guilt sweeps over Spencer’s face as he continues, “I’m not stupid kid, I know how you’re feeling. But you can’t let whatever turmoil you got in that big brain of yours affect this case. Not now.”

“I know that, Morg—“

“No, you don’t. I know you’re thinking about her, we all are. And we all want—need—her to be okay too. We will find her, but we can’t let the unsub get away too.”

Spencer sighs outwardly seeing the truth in his words. As concerned as he was about you he needed to remember this was still an active case. He couldn't let your past with each other cloud his judgement, even if the fallout still haunts him every day of his life. He needs to save you, but he also has a job to do. He just wasn’t sure if he’d remember that when they finally found you.

——

A pounding in your head stirs you awake, the bitter taste of metal flooding your senses as you come to. You blink a few times adjusting to the lowlights of the unfamiliar environment, hoping to find something distinguishable to ground you back to reality. It doesn’t help once you realize the blood crusted over your eye is the reason for your obscured vision. You attempt to rub it off on your shoulder ignoring the sharp pains shooting up from the abrasive contact. 

Once you think you’ve cleared enough you blink a few more times registering your surroundings to be a house, a cabin more accurately. Your memory is a little fuzzy as you try to recount what happened before you were knocked out cold.

Gas station. Unsub. Unsub at the gas station? But where was I…I went to the bathroom… and was getting…gummy worms?… But Rossi and Spencer were just outside… now I’m here…so does that means the unsub—

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

You jolt at the voice—the unsub you’ve come to remember—and you realize your hands are tied up behind your back, quickly coming to the second realization that you are rendered both injured and immobile.

“What do you want, Jason?” you say hoarsely after a minute.

He chuckles, “I didn’t know they made them so pretty at the academy…” he walks over and kneels in front of you, gripping your chin between his forefinger and thumb to move your head, “They probably kept you around for…entertainment right?”

You whip your head, “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Oh, you’re feisty. That’s good, keep it up. Makes this more fun.” he walks back over to the table and fiddles with something, you can’t really tell from the floor, “So how’d they make it work back in—what is it called—Quantico! They take turns with you or? There’s so many of y’all, probably had a system.”

The pounding in your head makes it more difficult to process anything he’s saying, “The hell are you talking about, take turns with what?” you ask, wincing through another wave of pain.

He turns around holding a metal rod and walks over, angling the rod under your chin to tilt your face up to meet his as he snarls, “I can’t wait to see how it feels to fuck a federal whore.”

All the color drains from your face and you kick into whatever gas is left in your autopilot. Your feet are flailing in every direction, body thrashing violently to prevent Jason from getting a good grip on you. You quickly learn the purpose of the metal rod hearing the clang! first, a millisecond passing before the pain and threat of unconsciousness spreads through your brain. 

The hit takes you out long enough for him to pin you down on the floor, the weight of his body landing on you before the metal rod goes for your limbs. It’s then you realize the throes of death have wrangled you for what appears to be the last time, and it’s probably wise to start saying—thinking— your final words.

To my parents, I love you. To Derek and Penelope, thank you for letting me third wheel with you. Emily, I’ll miss our weekend Sin City excursions. JJ, please give your boys the biggest hug from their favorite aunt. Rossi and Hotch, you always cared for me like I was your own—I am so grateful for you.

And Spencer…Oh, Spencer. How I hoped I would have the time to say I’m sorry for what happened, I hope you’ll forgive me in due time. I wish I told you that nothing about us ever changed for me. You were and will always be, My Spencer, I just wish I could tell you one more time how much I lov—“

“FBI, Drop your weapon!”

A clattering sound of something dropping rings directly next to your ear and the weight that was on you alleviates at the same time. You groan out and instinctively curl up on yourself, the pain spreading throughout your body. The sensory overload is so much you don’t hear the approaching figure crouching next to you.

“Hey Hey Hey,” Spencer stutters, quickly making work of the ties on your hands and holding you gently as he lays your head on his lap cradling you close, trying to hide the forming tears when he hears your whimpers of pain, “You’re okay, it’s okay. The medic’s coming.” He looks back to where the unsub was and watches Derek put him in cuffs, nodding at Spencer before walking out with Jason.

“…Spencer?” you whisper out weakly. You think you’re dreaming honestly, that in the wake of death you learn heaven isn’t a place but only his arms.

“Yeah, honey, it’s me.” he chokes out looking back down at your bruised face. He’s unsure how you still look angelic even when you’re hurt, but it doesn’t surprise him that you do. You were always good at defying the laws of nature, he prayed it extended to your immortality.

“It hurts.” you pout pathetically.

He brushes a strand of hair out of your eyes gently, “I know it does, honey I know. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry this happened. I should’ve been there. I’m sorry, baby.” he whispers tearfully.

You cough out and whimper in pain, “I’m sorry too.”

Spencer shakes his head vehemently, “No, don’t apologize. Don’t do that, just keep your eyes open for me, okay? I’m right here, I won’t leave you.”

The tiredness soon wins and your eyes flutter close. Before Spencer can even panic and beg you to open them again the medic finally comes and asks him—pulls him— to move so they can start working on you.

He reluctantly backs up and watches on with glossed over eyes, barely registering all the things they were sticking in you to wake you up. The medics stabilize your neck with a C-SPINE and lift you onto the gurney, wheeling you back to the ambulance. The same medic who asked Spencer to move comes up to him again, “We’re taking her to Georgetown Medical, you’re allowed to ride in the back with us if you want.”

You slowly come to again on the gurney and Spencer meets your open eyes before you even realize they’re on you. Without hesitation he says, “Yeah, I’m coming.”

The medic team lifts your gurney inside the rig, and right before Spencer gets in he feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns around to find Hotch, “You’ll be okay?” 

It’s a loaded question. He’s not asking if Spencer is okay at this moment, because it doesn’t take a profiler to see that he’s the farthest from it. He says it as a grounding reminder knowing how Spencer gets about you. It didn’t matter to the team if you both fell out, the pair of you never faltered in your subconscious for each other. Both of your actions always moved faster than your brains, especially when it involved the other. 

That’s what worried his Unit Chief.

He nods and Hotch gives his shoulder a light squeeze, “Keep us updated,” the concern clearly etched in his eyes breaking through his usual stoicism as he looks inside the rig, “We’ll meet you there as soon as we can.”

Under the bright lights of the ambulance he’s—unfortunately—able to really take inventory of the injuries you sustained. The blue and black bruising scattered your limbs, the congregation of it on your stomach telling him you have at least two broken ribs. His eyes trail further down your body before abruptly stopping, but not on an appendage.

Spencer’s face pales even further than it already has staring at the glint on the undone button of your trousers shining in the reflection of the light.

If they didn’t get there when they did…If he got to you a second later…He can’t even fathom to think about what would’ve happened.

He’s broken out of his spiral by the EMT sitting next to him offering a tissue, which is when Spencer feels the tear and snot streaks rolling down his face. He takes it and wipes his face mindlessly before muttering, “Can I just…” hands reaching out to you before his words come out. Spencer doesn’t notice the EMT tearing up as he gently buttons your pants.

——

You were a fighter.

At least, that’s what the doctors told Spencer when they came and updated him in the waiting room. He blanks out for most of the conversation, eyes unfocusing and ears on low lest your name be spoken.

“She’s stable and awake now, the nurse can take you back to see her.”

He shakes his head to recenter and mutters a thank you before following the nurse through the double white doors. His senses are heightened as he walks closer to your room. The scuff of his shoes on the linoleum floors, the pedantic beeping of machines in the rooms he passes, until he hears the only voice that’s ever been enough to calm the warzone in his mind.

“Hi, Spence.”

His feet move on their own accord right next to your bedside, hands hovering awkwardly at his side. He’s silent for the first couple minutes, just a faint sniffle here and there before he takes a seat near your bed and hears you speak again.

“You can touch me, Spence. I won’t break more than I already am.”

“Don’t say that,” he chides quickly, “It’s not a joke.”

“Well, someone should be the comedic relief here.”

He lays the tips of his fingers right on top of the tips of yours, “You could have died.”

Your face softens, “I didn’t though.”

“You could have.”

“Spencer—“

“Stop down playing it. You don’t know what it was like finding you like that.”

“I mean I have some idea, ‘cause like, I was there.” 

Spencer deadpans at your poor attempt at lightening the mood, a faint smile peaking through while he shakes his head, “Insufferable even at your deathbed.”

“Yeah, the Grim Reaper heard me yapping and said ‘keep her’.”

He chuckles softly as his hand moves further up to rest the front of his palm on the back of your hand, “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve…been better. The doctor said one of my broken ribs punctured an artery, a big one apparently,” you flip your hand over so both of your palms are touching but not laced, you softly continue, “Told me I was lucky I came in when I did. Any later the internal bleeding would’ve spread to my lungs.”

Spencer feels the tears springing again and a lump forming in his throat, “I’m so sorry, sweet girl,” the pet name slipping out before he could realize, “I should’ve gotten there sooner, or realized something was wrong at the gas station.”

“Hey. Don’t do that. You saved my life.” your fingers intertwine with his and squeeze with whatever strength you can muster, which isn’t a lot and it makes his heart clench tighter. “I’m here.”

He lets out the breath he’s been holding since he walked in, “You’re here.”

“I didn’t forget what you promised me when we…broke up,” God you wish it didn’t sound so terminable as it did, “I knew you’d find me. You always do.”

Another sniffle leaves him as he rubs his thumb soothingly on your hand, “I always do…Look, there’s something I need to tell you—“

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence as Penelope & Company burst into your room bearing balloons, chocolates, and many, many stuffies.

“How’s our girl doing?” Penelope huffs, hauling an entire Hallmark catalog worth of gifts in tow.

“She’s doing fine, Penny.” you chuckle lightly, trying your best to hide the wince of pain from your side, “You did not need to do all this.”

“Nonsense, everyone knows bear stuffies are the real medicine of the world.” she gleefully ignores the nurse onlookers, “I also brought you this, of special request by someone who shall not be named.” From her back she produces a bag of your favorite candy—sour gummy worms. A fact that you knew only one person was privy to.

You act surprised nonetheless, “My favorite! Thank you, Penny. And all of you, for coming to see my crippled self.”

Spencer watches the team take turns doting on you. Emily, JJ, and Penelope sit with you for about four Gilmore Girls episodes—another lost relic of modern medicine, according to Penny—after which Morgan, Rossi, and Hotch keep you company for a little bit before bidding you good night with forehead kisses and well wishes. Spencer stays with you the whole time, never once leaving your side. 

You are so loved, he thinks. He didn’t realize how much he liked watching you be loved. It makes him miss the times when he could do that for you too.

——

Weeks pass since the day of your kidnapping. You still find it weird to call it that, even though it’s literally what happened. You’ve been on house arrest—bed rest—begrudgingly, and while Penelope’s very glittery visiting schedule has kept you entertained, it’s been hard when the only person you really wanted to see has refused to come visit since you left the hospital.

You’ve asked Penelope why Spencer hasn’t come, and all she can offer you is a sad smile and a ‘He said something come up sweetie, sorry.’. Texting him seemed even more daunting, more because you weren’t about to beg for his attention if he obviously doesn’t want you to have it. 

The doorbell steals your attention and you glance over at the schedule before you walk over to open it, not expecting a visitor at this time.

Spencer looks up from his shoes hearing the door open, “Hey.”

A minute passes, “Why are you here?” you ask bluntly.

He looks confused, “I came to check on you, brought you takeout from the Indian place you like.” The food in his hand smells heavenly but you can’t seem to enjoy it yet without getting an answer.

“Why are you here, now?” you ask again with an addendum.

He either really wants to piss you off or his ear blew out on the way over but he chooses to ignore you and enter your apartment, “You having nightmares again?”

“What? No…” you lie poorly, straightening up your back, “Just tired.”

He chuckles, “Good to know you’re still a terrible liar. Did you know you wear Doctor Who shirts when you’re feeling anxious?”

Your brows fuddle in confusion but he elaborates, “It’s probably subconscious, something you find comforting and naturally gravitate to in times of distress. It’s a normal stress response but…you’re wearing an Eleventh Doctor shirt.” My Eleventh Doctor shirt, he thinks.

“That doesn’t mean anything.” you feign.

“Maybe it doesn’t,” he nods, “But you are anxious aren’t you?”

“Spencer, what the fuck is going on, why are you here, really?” your eyes narrow, arms crossing defensively.

“I told you, I came to check on you.”

“You just woke up this morning and decided it was convenient for you to see me today?” Spencer opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. You stare at him with tearful eyes and the emotion spills out of you before you can stop it. You speak again after a few moments, voice barely above a whisper, “You left me. Again.”

He tilts his head, “No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.” you grit out, “You were rooted at my bedside the entire time I was hospitalized, and the second I was discharged you were nowhere to be found. I thought, maybe with Penny’s schedule you’d come by, but then I came to find out that you didn’t even put your name down.”

“You almost died!” he retorts, “You almost died, because I made a mistake and you got hurt because of it!”

“So, that gives you the right to abandon me for the second time?”

“I didn’t…” he sighs out roughly, “I didn’t abandon you. I just, couldn’t…face you.” Face you, in pain, as a result of his actions.

“Is that what happened the first time you left?” you bite back.

His eyes steel over, “That was different.”

“I don’t see how.”

“You know why I left.”

“I don’t think I do, Spencer—”

“I left because I was putting you in danger!” he yells cutting you off, “I left because loving you meant dragging you into all the messed up stuff that happens to me, stuff that’ll keep happening to me.”

Tobias. Mexico. Cat.

A single tear rolls down your face, “That’s bullshit, I’m sorry. We work the same damn job, the risks are the same if we’re together or not.”

“You don’t understand—“

“Then fucking enlighten me, Spencer.”

He stares at you, fighting an internal battle of whether he was really willing to admit his truth to you, one that he knows you deserved to know but wasn’t sure if it would put you more in harm's way.

“Cat had details about your family.”

That’s not what you were expecting to hear. Your face drops, “Wh—What?”

His eyes dart around the room nervously, “After I got out of Millburn and we went to see Cat, she was trying all these tactics to get me to break. I was doing fine, until she started talking about you. She was saying things that only you told me, stuff that’s not even on record.”

You remember that day. You were supposed to go with him and JJ to the correctional facility but ended up stuck at the BAU because your skill set was more valuable in helping Penelope locate Mr. Scratch. You remember how he came back to you that day, distant and glassed over. It was easy to chalk up his behavior following it to his recent release, but when you woke up a few weeks later to an empty bed and a throwaway note saying ‘I’m sorry.”, you couldn’t figure out for the life of you why all of a sudden you didn’t exist to him, like you didn’t matter.

“I made a choice, one that I knew would protect you.”

“That’s not a decision for you to make.” you snap.

“I had to,” he says lowly, taking a step closer to you, “If being with me puts your safety at risk…” another step, “I’d rather live in a world where you hate me and are still here…” one more step, “Than one where you loved me and died because of it.” he manages to choke out, taking one final step towards you.

It’s quiet for a couple minutes, save for the soft whistle of the breeze coming from your open window. The resolve in you has long faded, leaving behind nothing but the skin on your bones to weather the damage. It makes sense to you why he did what he did, and you don’t know if the roles were reversed would you do the same thing. But you knew that you loved him and he loved you, and that alone should have been enough.

You can’t help but let out a whine, sounding like a petulant child, “That’s not fair, Spence.”

“What’s not fair, baby?” he softly whispers.

Your whine turns into a cry, “That, all of this. The fall on your sword act in which you decide what’s best for me is to leave me stranded, thinking I did something wrong that made you stop loving me.”

He steps forward a little more, his face mere inches from your own, “You think I stopped loving you?”

“Was I supposed to think otherwise? You couldn’t even stand being in the same room as me.”

His hands raise to gently cup your face, thumbs positioned under your eyes to wipe the fallen tears. He’s missed looking into your eyes as close as he is. For a man who doesn’t believe in religion he’s pretty certain the gates of heaven lie within your irises.

“I was selfish,” he swallows, “I wanted to keep you safe but I did so in a way that I felt was most logical, which turned out to be so fucking wrong regardless since you still got hurt.”

He brings your face impossibly closer, the warmth of his breath gently hitting your face.

“There isn’t a waking moment where I don’t love you. Even when we weren’t together, I still looked out for you and I made sure you were safe in ways I couldn’t tell you. I meant what I said. I told you I’d find you in every lifetime. I love you, in every lifetime, angel girl.”

The ache in your heart only grows with his words, reminding you that he always was and will forever be, Your Spencer.

“You can’t do that again,” you stutter out through tiny sobs, “You need to tell me what’s going on, whatever it is. We figure it out together.”

He nods softly, the hair on his forehead faintly brushing up on yours, “We figure it out together. I’m so sorry for everything, baby.” his lips press a long kiss to your forehead, “I’m here now, I’m not going anywhere.”

You rise on your toes to meet your lips with his, the missed time and unspoken words flowing silently between you both. His hands wrap gently around your waist and pull you flush to his chest, with yours entangling with the brown curls you had missed so much.

Finally back in his arms, you sigh with exhaustion and relief, “You’re here.”

“I’m here, honey.”

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

(Don't You) Steal My Thunder

my tyler owens playlist 🤝 inspiring fic titles

Tyler Owens x fem!reader  7k words

summary: Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. But he's set on getting you on his good side. And the more you get to know him, the less you can resist.

a/n: i had to research sm car stuff for this it's not funny. i now know exactly how to describe a truck bed though, so. that's fun.

again, my inbox is wide open <33 i don't guarantee anything, but you can always come talk to me or request smth

masterlist | twisters masterlist

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met.

He prints his face on t-shirts, writes his autograph on mugs, comes up with ridiculous sayings ("Not My First Tornadeo" and "If you feel it, chase it" are really just the tip of the ice berg) and most importantly, he costs you the best shots of tornadoes every goddamn time.

Tyler Owens is a problem.

And Tyler Owens seems to have actively decided to make himself a problem too.

Which would be fine, if he flipped you the bird or told you to fuck off or threw his paper towels at you. Unluckily, those are rather examples of what you have done to him. Because it's not fine, not at all - no, Tyler Owens has decided that it's not enough to be in your way all the time, he has to seek you out and rub your nose in it.

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. He's cocky and he's arrogant and he's entirely too full of himself. He brags too much and calls you "weather girl" too often. He gets under your skin more than you would ever admit.

And, as if all of that isn't enough - Tyler Owens is the very epitome of handsomeness.

It's like god didn't just have a good day when he created Tyler Owens, no, god must have still been in the post-haze of the best head he'd gotten in his whole immortal life when he'd created Tyler Owens.

Because Tyler Owens has the body of a greek god and the face of a Hollywood actor. He's not a pornstar, he's who pornstars worship. He's the Prince Charming little girls dream of and the Christian Grey grown women lust for.

Tyler Owens looks like everything you've ever wanted.

But he's just such a fucking asshole.

You wish you could say you didn't care. You'd love to be the kind of woman who didn't even acknowledge him. But you're not. You're not. You watch his videos when you can't sleep, you chuckle when you happen to overhear his jokes, you ogle his back when he's turned away from you. Sometimes, you get so lost in staring at him that you realise too late when he turns back around, and then you have to act unbothered when he grins his fucking grin at you. That's mostly when you flip him off, desperately fighting to ignore the heat in your cheeks.

Not like it stops him. You honestly feel like it only spurs him on.

Something has to seriously be wrong with him. It's not his face. But something is seriously wrong with him, you're sure of that.

Something has to be wrong with him. No sane person would ever go tornado wrangling. No hate to the rest of his crew - they're nice, you've managed to hold a few pretty normal conversations with them here and there - but none of them are sane either.

Storm chasing is different. You keep your distance. All you need are a few well-placed photographs - and those you can get from a rather safe number of miles away. The weather channel doesn't care about close-ups (not really, anyway). They want something to show the people on their comfortable couches, up in New Hampshire or Maine, so that all of them can say to each other "What poor folks, wouldn't wanna live there" and nod in pity as they switch the channel to watch another blockbuster.

You're just doing your job.

The only problem is that it's hard to do your job properly when there's always that fucking red truck in the way, driving down empty roads right into the heart of the tornado. And because no one on the news wants people to see that and go "Well, can't be too bad if there's still cars on the streets!", in the last few months - ever since you'd volunteered to move back to Oklahoma 'So that we've got someone right in Tornado Alley and don't have to fly people out there every time' - the weather channel has only shown the first few minutes of tornadoes forming. The rest of your pictures and videos lie abandoned in the trash file on your laptop. Except for a few - a very, very few, very, very good pictures of Tyler Owens and his Tornado Wranglers. But those won't ever see the light of day either.

You'd be damned if you let anyone know that while Tyler Owens is busy disturbing your actual work, you're busy taking pictures of him shooting fireworks into tornadoes. Pictures that would make for some damn good headers (if you hadn't buried them far, far down your gallery).

This time is no different. You get a few amazing shots of the tornado forming – surely an EF2, maybe even an EF3 - before you settle in the driver's seat again, your window rolled down and your camera hung around your neck as you push down on the gas. Then, a few miles further, you get even better shots of the full tornado, of the first few minutes of destruction, right there, in the middle of an empty field.

And as always, of course, just as the tornado takes on full form, you spot that familiar red truck through the lens of your camera. It speeds down the pavement right in front of where you’ve swerved onto the side of the road and you snap a few pictures, just because you’ve got the trigger right underneath your finger. Honestly, something about that dirty red paint against the grey skies just looks too good not to capture. But then the truck comes closer and closer and starts to slow down and you let your camera sink.

Tyler has his window rolled down already when he stops the car. There’s that annoyingly handsome grin on his lips, the one that makes you want to slap him across the face.

“You’re too far away, weather girl”, he calls out above the rumble of distant wind and thunder. “The good pictures are down that way.”

“The good pictures are right here.” You lift your camera at him. “Maybe you just need to update your equipment.”

Tyler’s grin widens, but before he can throw another of those obnoxious retorts your way, Lilly’s voice rings out through the car.

“Hey, T, looks like it’s changing course. You should hurry.”

His eyes are still glued to yours, still glued so firmly to yours that it makes your skin crawl. You can’t look away, couldn’t possibly look away. Tyler Owens might just be a cocky asshole, but you’re only human. And the weight of his gaze on yours is enough to keep you stuck in place, clutching at your camera.

“We’re on our way, Lilly”, he drawls without looking away from you. “See you around, weather girl.”

The rest of the pictures you take land in your trash file with all the other pictures of the last few weeks. You’re laying in bed, your laptop propped up against a pillow, the empty plate from dinner on the mattress next to you as you sort through today’s work. That’s the good thing about the time difference – you’ve got until seven to send the channel the day's results.

By nine, you’ve showered, put on a dress you feel confident in and settled on one of the chairs at the local bar. You’ve been telling yourself you need to get out a little bit more – you’ve been living here three months now and you haven’t really made any friends so far. To be fair, your job has kept you out and about most of the time. You’ve spent more hours at gas stations to fill up your tank than you have in your own home. But now you’ve decided to put an end to that. You're a young woman in a new town, you can meet more people than just the cashier at the local supermarket.

So for the past twenty minutes, you’ve been nursing a mojito at the counter and talking to the bartender. She’s nice, she’s your age, she’s extroverted enough to keep sidling up to you after every time she has to excuse herself to do her job. That, and she tells you she’s grown up here, so she knows most of the people around. She’s just serving another customer – a long-haired, brown-eyed, hat-wearing country guy who’s already shared a smile or two with you – when someone rests their arm on the countertop next to you.

“Didn’t expect to see you here”, he drawls, all low, deep Southern accent and you recognise his voice before you’ve even tilted your head up and looked at him. His grin drips down onto his words and wraps itself around your mind.

Tyler Owens isn’t just annoying – he’s unbelievable. He's unbelievable and he’s here.

“So you’re stalking me now”, you say, as drily as you can possibly manage. You've been doing that a lot around him. Dead-panning everything. Schooling your expression into fake neutrality.

"I'm here all the time, weather girl", he grins. "If anything, you're stalking me."

You snort, but it's rather unfunny when you think of all the videos you've watched, hours after they'd been livestreamed, cuddled up in your bed until midnight just to stare at his face. He's not that far from the truth.

"In your dreams, Owens", you say anyway, dragging your eyes back towards your almost empty cocktail glass. You wrap your lips around your straw and drain your drink entirely. What you say and what you do, none of that matters in the end. All of this is just show. Every conversation you've had with Tyler Owens in the last three months has been nothing but a performance. Other than your name, you don't think a single sentence out of your mouth has been honest. Not when it comes to him.

"Let me buy you a beer" is the only answer you get.

His grin widens when you look back up again - so cocky, so unbelievably cocky.

"I don't drink."

You push your glass an inch further down the bar top. Tyler raises his eyebrows. Fuck, someone really needs to kick him in the face. You can't keep having all these little heart attacks whenever he's close enough that you could touch him if you wanted.

Not that you want to.

"You're drinking right now", he says. You rest your palms against the bar top and blink at him.

"I don't drink with you."

He lets out a chuckle, one of those deep ones that settle right in your chest and make it hard to swallow.

"Just this once?", he asks and in all honesty, for just a second there, you actually consider giving in. He's too handsome for his own good. You really need to get it together. He's an ass (what an ass, goddamn). And he's insane. He's an insane ass. Sometimes you have to remind yourself of that - those times like now, when his piercing eyes and his kissable lips and his rugged stubble and his broad, broad shoulders and his drawled voice overshadow everything else.

"Don't you have some livestreaming to do?", you ask, hoping it still comes across just as sarcastic when you're the slightest bit distracted by how gloriously tight the sleeves of his flannel are. "Go chasing tornadoes, not me."

His grin widens inexplicably further. You're sure that if you were in a comic, there'd be a lightbulb flashing above his head right about now.

"Well", he drawls, "if you feel it..."

"Don't you do that shit to me, Owens."

He's raising his eyebrows again, raising his eyebrows as you clasp your hand around your empty glass so hard your knuckles turn white. But you're serious. Just as you'd lost yourself in the view of him, that angelic, sinful view of him, he'd gone and reminded you why you were so adamant to keep your distance. If you feel it, chase it. Ridiculous. Obnoxious. He's an arrogant, know-it-all, suicidal job-wrecker. He's the guy with cameras pointed at him everywhere he goes. He signs mugs and selfies and hats and shirts and bras. He's the reason you haven't gotten a single un-edited shot of a fully formed tornado in the last three months.

"You're not a fan of my catchphrase, weather girl?"

He can't even pretend to look wounded (even though he tries) with how big the grin on his lips still is. You stare right at him, dead-eyed and unflinching.

"I'm not a fan of you."

Lies slip off your tongue so easily by now that you wonder when you'd become morally compromised enough to not even care anymore. It must've happened somewhere along the way, sometime between the first conversation you'd had with him and the one you're having with him right now.

"You wound me", he grins, his palm pressed to his chest.

For the first time tonight, you allow yourself to grin back at him.

"I try."

With that, you slip off your chair and wave the bartender goodbye. You're already two steps away when Tyler calls after you.

"I'd still buy you a beer."

"I'm still not drinking with you", you call back. You don't turn around again. You just make your way back to your car and mark the evening as a half-successful night of socialising on your to-do list.

...

You see him again first thing the next day. Of course. Because there's no tornadoes without the Tornado Wranglers on their tail. By now, you're used to it. You wave at Dani as they come back out of the store at the gas station you're waiting at. They've got both arms full of coffees and for a second, you consider offering your help, but then you hear Tyler shout something out of his car and you suddenly don't feel any desire whatsoever to get up. You've sat yourself down in your truck bed, your camera slung around your neck and the radar on your lap. If all goes right, you're hoping for a tornado to form a little to the east from here. And as much as you dislike Tyler Owens, the fact that he's here soothes your nerves. Where he goes, there's sure to be tornadoes close by.

The few times you hadn't seen him had never ended well for you. You'd missed an EF3 your second week here just because you'd followed the wrong hunch. Meanwhile Tyler, of course, had been in the middle of it.

This might just be the one singular situation that you welcome seeing his red truck around. As long as you can manage to overtake him on the road after.

It's not that you need to be faster. You don't need to reach the tornado first. You don't even take the same way as him most of the time. He wants in there, you just want a sensible picture. Still, you can't help but feel a pang of disappointment every time you hit the brakes and jump out of your car, miles away from the actual cell as Tyler speeds down towards it. You've been telling yourself that it's because he ruins your pictures. It kind of is.

"Hey, weather girl!"

You let out a resigned breath as you tilt your head up and squint against the sun. He's still in his truck, his window rolled down, his elbow propped up against the car door.

"What do you want, Owens?"

Your fingers itch to reach for your camera. It's a visual, him in that fucking car, leaning out of his window with the sun peaking out behind him. But you can't, you can't take a picture of him this openly. Even if you were to argue that it's just the light you'd wanted to capture.

"To give you some advice", he calls out, his lips pulling into a grin. You raise your eyebrows at him. "East isn't gonna work out. Wind's changing. Go south."

He throws you a mock salute and hits the gas before you can say anything else.

Not that you'd been about to.

Instead you just curse to yourself, jump off the truck bed and throw your treacherous technology into the passenger seat with a little too much vigor. Fuck this. You sit at the steering wheel and stare out at the sky for exactly two seconds before you make your decision. Then you start your car and drive south.

You may not be a fan of Tyler Owens, but you've long since admitted to yourself that this man has got a gift. He has an unbeatable instinct when it comes to storms. And sure, you have your fair share of knowledge, but in the end, you're a photographer, not a meteorologist. You won't miss a day's work just because you're too proud to listen to Tyler.

You're a little further behind, but you can spot his truck and guess that he's driving straight on into the cell today, so you take a right and decide to try your luck with the side of the tornado. Not being right in its path doesn't sound too bad anyway.

You actually manage to snap a few well-placed pictures. You don't know what Tyler's doing, but it seems like he's not shooting random shit up the cell today. You'll watch the stream later - you're just the slightest bit curious now what's happening with them. Maybe they're doing some old-school chasing? Or maybe they're doing a challenge. Maybe Tyler is driving blindfolded. At this point, who knows.

It's good for you though. It's a considerable tornado today, an EF2 at least, and you only spot Tyler's red truck again when the cell moves further down the fields, away from him. It doesn't look like it's gonna disappear anytime soon. Maybe today's your lucky day.

Half an hour later, you're sure you've got at least a dozen pictures of the fully formed tornado, long touched down and without the red truck in the way.

You're just packing up your things, already sifting through the photos on your camera, squinting against the sunlight, trying to both tug the zipper of your bag closed and hit the right buttons at the same time when Tyler pulls up next to you.

"You look busy, weather girl", he says, already grinning that damn grin again.

"I am", you say - truthfully, for once. You let go of your bag and lower your camera. You're hesitant, but... "Thanks for the tip."

"Anytime", he grins. "Just do me one favour."

You already know this can't be good. Not with that cheeky look on his face. But he'd just saved you from chasing hot air (quite literally), so he deserves a little treat. And you don't want unsettled scores with Tyler Owens.

"I want to know what favour that's supposed to be before I agree", you say anyway, because with him, you can never be too careful. And in the end, you're only willing to do so much. (Though for him, you'd already do a lot more than you'd admit. A lot more than you hope he's aware of.)

"Let me buy you a beer", he says, and for once, he sounds serious.

The memory of yesterday night flashes before your eyes, of those same words at the bar. With him so close, way too close - with that grin and that stubble and that voice and those shoulders. You cross your arms and stare at him.

"If you're livestreaming this, I'm gonna sue your ass so hard."

He just lets out a chuckle and raises his hands in surrender.

"Cameras are off, I swear."

You stare at him for another silent ten or so seconds. At him in that fucking truck that looks just a little too good in your pictures. At him and his fucking face. That fucking face that you certainly wouldn't mind sitting on, if just to shut him up.

God, he's asking you to drink something with him. He's asking to buy you something to drink with him. You're stupid.

You're so, so stupid.

"Alright, cowboy", you say, uncrossing your arms and reaching for the handle of your car door. "I'll humour you."

...

You're in the bar again by nine that night, the same way you had been the day before. You're wearing a different dress and there's a different bartender, but you've ordered the same mojito and chosen the same place to sit.

Only this time, you're actively watching the door. And when Tyler strolls in, you've got to shift around in your seat and cross your legs. You don't even pretend you're not staring. You just ogle him openly. Not for the first time ever - you'd checked him out very obviously when he'd strutted towards you to introduce himself three months ago - but definitely for the first time in a while. And god yeah, he's a hunk of a man, alright. If you had your camera here right now...

But you don't. So instead, you drop your eyes to his feet (brown leather boots), drag them up his legs (blue jeans), over his chest (red checkered flannel), over his face (god, what you wouldn't give-) and finally rest them on the cowboy hat on top of his head.

When he's close enough to hear you, already grinning, of course, probably at how you're actually sitting there in the same spot as yesterday and hadn't just lied to his face about coming here, you raise your eyebrows at him.

"A cowboy hat?", you ask, your voice as unbothered as you can possibly manage (even though you're very, very, very much bothered right now). His grin only widens.

"Ladies love country boys", he drawls with a shrug.

"Now that's straight out of a song", you say. "You're getting lazy, Owens."

"A song?", he asks. "No, that's an Owens Original."

You pull your eyebrows even further up.

"Ladies love country boys? Trace Adkins?"

"Nope. Not familiar."

But his grin tells you that he's lying. He's a liar. He knows very well where he got that line from. And he knows just how easily he got under your skin with his simple trick. As if his face isn't enough already.

You just shake your head and turn away from him.

"Put your money where your mouth is, Owens. Buy me a beer."

...

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. But he's also a great conversationalist.

The hours fly by as you're talking. One beer turns into two, then into an uncountable number of soft drinks. You both agree that you need to drive home, neither of you is willing to risk a run-in with the police. You need your drivers license for your jobs.

Tyler talks to you about the pictures you've taken today, then about the pictures from last week. He laughs when you blame him for ruining half of them and almost spits out his coke when you slap his arm for laughing at you. He tells you about his crew, about the people they've helped with the money from their dumb t-shirt sales. You think you hate him less by the minute. You're not sure if you're okay with that. But he gets you talking about your childhood and your parents, about school and college and about how you've wound back up here in Oklahoma. That effectively distracts you.

That, and how his cocky grin morphs into a genuine smile the more you open up.

Not that you didn't love the cocky grin. You did, just a bit. As obnoxious as it was. But the way he smiles at you all sweet has you melting right in your spot.

It's not the first time you realise that beneath all that rough exterior, there beats a heart of gold. You've known what those t-shirt sales are for, that he offers food and water after a tornado hits a town, that he carries the injured out of the ruins of their houses and helps find lost dogs. The more you've been around him in the past weeks, the more you've seen of his soft side. Of the way he cares and supports. But in the end, it always is easier to go back to the status quo - to fall back onto mindless snark and fleeting first impressions.

You'd clung so desperately to the image of him as this arrogant, smug, holier-than-thou influencer god for the sole purpose of keeping your own sanity. Because you'd known that without despising him, you would fall head over heels for Tyler Owens, and you just couldn't have that.

But now, with his arm brushing against yours and his hat discarded on the bar top and his smile, that beautiful, beautiful smile on his lips...

"Five bucks", he drawls, already reaching for his wallet.

"What?"

"Five bucks says there won't be a tornado tomorrow."

You raise your eyebrows at him, your glass hovering in mid-air between the two of you. You'd meant to take a sip, but now you're setting it right back down on the bar top.

"You're shitting me."

Tyler just shakes his head. He's grinning again, but it's much softer this time around.

"The winds are looking great. The forecast says it's gonna be the best conditions for tornadoes we've seen in the last six weeks. I've heard Dexter talk about how we're probably gonna see an EF4 tomorrow", you tell him, even though you're sure he's well aware of all of it. This is Tyler Owens, for god's sake. He knows about the winds and the forecasts. He knows that his crew is making preparations already.

His grin only grows. And it's smug now. It's cocky now. It's everything you thought you'd left behind during this conversation. He looks like the Tornado Wrangler again, like the guy who fucks up your pictures and makes your job harder than it already is.

It takes you a second too long to realise why.

"Dexter said that on our live", he grins, as if he can't quite believe what he's hearing. You physically recoil from him. "Do you watch our streams, weather girl?"

"No", you breathe, rigid and frozen, shocked to your very core. No, no, no, no, this cannot be happening. This cannot be happening. You'd... You hadn't made that mistake. He hadn't got you to make that mistake.

"Dexter talked about tomorrow on our live", Tyler says again, straightening his back and grinning down at you like he's just uncovered the lost grave of Cleopatra. "Only on the live. You watched our stream."

"No", you mutter, your eyes wide and your mouth dry, so dry. You need to drink. You need to drink so badly. "No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did. You watched our stream, honey."

The petname runs down your spine and clogs your senses. Honey. Oh, he's an ass, he's an asshole! But you're on the spot, you're on the spot and he's calling you honey, honey, honey. You can't do anything but watch as he leans closer to you, grinning down at you like it's his one true purpose on this earth, like he wants to eat you alive.

"I'd say you watch our streams pretty regularly, weather girl."

You swallow hard and clasp your hand around your glass.

"Yeah?", you breathe, hoping against all hope that your voice sounds somewhat innocent. You're sure it doesn't. You know it doesn't. You probably sound as guilty as you are, but... Hope dies last. Hope always dies last. "Why would you say that?"

"Just a hunch." He shows off those pearly fucking whites for you. "Call it an instinct. I'm usually right."

He is.

He's right now. He's right usually.

Him and his fucking instinct. His goddamn gut feeling about tornadoes, always right all the fucking time. He's like an Oklahoma Jesus. The first coming of Tornado Christ.

Fuck him.

Fuck him.

"I'll take your bet." You drain your glass at once. "Give me your five bucks, Owens."

You don't think it'll work. You don't think he'll let you distract him. You don't think it'll be this easy to stop his vile teasing. He's not the type of guy to let something go. He's not the type of guy to let anything go ever. But he looks at you and he grins at you and he trails his eyes over your face and then he opens up his wallet and pulls out five dollars without another word.

He puts the bill flat on the bar top.

But when you go to reach for it, he pushes his fingers down.

"The price just went up", he says.

You raise your eyebrows and let your hand sink again. Tyler is absolutely unpredictable. You should've known.

"The price just went up?", you repeat. He nods. "What more do you want to bet?"

He's closer now, closer all of a sudden. He's too close, close enough to make your breath hitch. He's looking down at you with that cocky, cheeky grin, with his weirdly green eyes, with his three day stubble and his generally much too symmetrical face. You can't do anything but look back up at him.

"A kiss", he says. Simple as that.

A kiss.

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. He is. Truly. He's annoying and way too full of himself and much too presumptuous. Tyler Owens is the only man who would ever do something like this. The only man who'd bet a kiss on whether or not there will be tornadoes tomorrow.

Especially with that forecast.

The one that says a tornado is basically inevitable.

"Alright", you say. He may be Tyler Owens, the guy with an infallible instinct - but he is also Tyler Owens, the guy who's been doing his hardest to get under your skin. This time might not be any different. For all you know, he's bluffing to rile you up. "I'm in."

...

At eleven the next day, you're standing next to Dexter in resigned silence.

"I really thought today was gonna pan out", you mutter.

"It should have", Dexter frowns, tapping against the screen in his hands. "It should have worked out. The conditions should have been perfect. Everything's been building the last few days."

"But it collapsed this morning."

You turn your head and watch as Tyler comes to a stand next to you, arms crossed, eyes locked on the clear sky up above. He tilts his head to you and grins. Fuck, he's wearing his goddamn hat again. It's like he doesn't even try to be normal.

"Hey, weather girl", he greets. "Ready to cash out your bet?"

You shake your head at him. No, you're not giving up this easily. You never give up this easily.

"The day's not over yet, Owens. You haven't won 'til midnight."

...

You spend most of the next hours sitting in your truck bed, reading a book you'd thrown into your backseat weeks ago and had so far neglected. Lilly hands you lunch around two, Dani offers you a coffee around five and Boone pipes up here and there to joke about the wasted day. Around six, Dexter comes by to let you know they're calling it.

You still have another hour to go. By seven, it'll be too late to send your pictures anyway. But you want the hour. You need the hour.

You still haven't decided what to do about Tyler. About Tyler and his fucking bet.

He's been loitering the whole day, walking by, joking around with his crew, livestreaming a spontaneous q&a just because.

And the more minutes tick by, the harder it is to keep ignoring that you've most definitely lost the bet. Even though you do your best. You read, you check your phone. You stare at your radar. You stare at the weather forecast. You talk to Dexter and Dani and Lilly and Boone. You take a few pictures of the sky. Then you take a few pictures of Tyler, standing some feet away from his truck and looking out at the clouds.

It's only when two of three Tornado Wranglers cars are disappearing down the road, when Tyler Owens suddenly stands in front of your truck bed, that you put down your book and face reality.

"No tornadoes in sight", he says, instead of 'Hello' or 'How are you' like any other person would.

"There's still six hours left", you reason. Even if only one of those is relevant for your job today.

"You really want to wait out six hours to prove I'm right?"

"You're not right", you argue. It's fruitless, it's stupid, it's unreasonable. But... "Not yet, anyway."

Tyler raises his eyebrows at you, lets out an amused chuckle and leans against the side of your truck bed.

"Alright, so we wait."

You eye him from the side. He's fucking leaning against your truck, staring out at the sky, talking about six hours. Goddamn. He can't be serious, can he? His crew is already gone. They've disappeared into the descending sun and he's talking about waiting another six hours. Leaned against your car.

"Fuck's sake, Owens", you sigh, scooching over to the right. "At least sit down then."

You don't talk much at first. You just open your book back up again and try your hardest to ignore that he's even here at all, barely two feet away from you on the other side of your truck bed. If you stretched your leg, you'd hit him right in the hip.

It makes reading close to impossible.

Even though he's not doing anything at all. He's just sitting there, one arm propped up on the side board, that goddamn cowboy hat on his head and his feet hanging off the opened tailgate. It's almost worse that he's not doing anything.

That he's just sitting there and watching the sky change.

You give up on reading entirely when you realise that you've finished exactly five pages in half an hour. Instead, you put your book back in the car, pull out your bluetooth speaker and two water bottles and offer Tyler one of them.

You don't even ask him what music he wants to listen to. You just put on your country playlist and roll with it. By the twitch of his lips, you know he certainly doesn't mind.

Another half hour later, it's starting to get chilly and you're beginning to grow bored of the music. Tyler sitting next to you makes you fidgety, somehow, and you can't really enjoy the songs you usually love so much. So you switch to a podcast. You don't ask Tyler if he minds. He's free to go anytime.

Around eight, the sun starts to set, and the chill turns into an unpleasant cool. You hadn't really expected to be sitting out here so long. You're not prepared for the temperature to drop. You're wearing shorts, for god's sake, shorts and a top. It's summer in Oklahoma - you don't know how Tyler even manages to survive in his long jeans. You certainly wouldn't.

But now you're a little jealous, to be honest. He doesn't look cold in the slightest while you're fighting off shivers. You can feel your hands trembling already.

You really should've brought a jacket. But who brings jackets in 30 degree summer weather?

So instead, you just resign yourself to your fate and rub your hands along your arms. Anything to get some warmth into your body.

For the first time since you've sat back down, Tyler turns his head and looks at you.

"You're cold", he says, eyes raking over your arms and the goosebumps you'd gotten.

"Great observational skills, Sherlock Holmes", you deadpan, even though he doesn't really deserve that. He had so far left you pretty much alone. "A+ on that assignment."

Well, it's hard to break bad habits.

Tyler just chuckles, shakes his head and pushes off of the truck bed. You watch, eyes narrowed, as he walks back to his own car, opens up the trunk and- pulls out a blanket?

Your hands have sunken down to your lap all by themselves by the time he's standing in front of you again, holding out the blanket.

"For you, Watson", he grins as you slowly, carefully take the blanket from him. You mutter something along the lines of a soft 'Thank you' before you wrap the blanket around your arms.

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. But he's also the very definition of "Tough on the outside, soft on the inside". Sometimes, you think the word 'angelic' works for more than just his divine looks.

Your eyes are glued to him as he sits back down next to you and looks out at the darkening sky with that signature grin on his lips, like he knows that you're watching him and enjoys it more than he should. That doesn't deter you though. For the very first time. You don't even stop staring when he turns his head back to you. You don't even stop staring then.

You just look at him until his grin crumbles. Until he's smiling that smile from yesterday night, the one that has your heart squeezing together and then exploding in your chest. You think you could stare at that smile for the rest of eternity and never feel sated.

"What?", he asks, his voice so soft it makes you swallow. Your lips part, but there's no words on your tongue, none in your throat. They're stuck in your chest somewhere, wrapped around your heart so tightly that you can't let them go even now. So you just press your lips together, wrap your blanket tighter around yourself and say:

"So I'm Watson, yeah?"

Your podcast is long forgotten by the time the sky turns dark. So dark that you make Tyler climb into your car and turn on the lights. You're comfortable in your blanket, you don't feel the need to move.

It's around ten when the blanket isn't enough anymore.

You tuck your hands underneath your top, but that only helps for so long. A few minutes later, you're trembling again, trembling even though you're pulling the blanket as tightly around you as you possibly can. Tyler raises his eyebrows when a particularly heavy shiver runs down your spine, one of those that come and go within three seconds.

"Come here", he says, shuffling in his spot and motioning for you to move over to him. You don't really think about it. It's more of a reflex as you fumble the blanket off of your body, scooch over to him, settle yourself against his side and sneak your feet under his thigh. He tugs the blanket back up to your chin, tucks it in behind your back and wraps his arms around you.

Tyler Owens wraps his arms around you.

And he's so fucking warm you literally almost moan. God, you hadn't actually realised just how cold you'd been.

"Damn, you're freezing", he notes as well, just as you nestle further into him and hum in agreement. He's like a living heater right now. You'd like to just crawl inside of him and suck up all his warmth. "You should've told me sooner."

"I didn't tell you at all", you mutter, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. He smells good. He smells so good. Earthy, musky somehow. You're tempted to turn your head and bury your nose in his shoulder.

Instead, you just satisfy yourself with what you can get. Fuck, he smells so good. He smells just like you'd thought he would, like country and rodeo and thunderstorms. He smells like falling into bed at the end of a successful chase. He smells like more. You want more.

You want more of Tyler Owens.

"Are you sniffing me?", he asks suddenly, but he sounds so amused you can't even bring yourself to feel embarrassed. You just open your eyes and grin at him, tilting your head so you can look up at him.

"What if I am?", you ask, if only to hear that breathless chuckle fall from his lips. Oh, those lips. You're in trouble. "Are you gonna call the cops on me?"

"I could never."

"Yeah, you better not, cowboy", you mutter, eyes dropping to his lips when he grins. He's so close. He's way too close. "There's like thirty things I could call the cops about on your channel."

His grin grows until he's showing off his teeth, glinting against the low light of the leds in your car. He's closer now.

"So you do watch our streams, weather girl."

His voice is so low and he's so close, so close. Your lips part all on their own. You haven't looked back up at his eyes in too long. Far too long. But he's so close, and he's so warm, and he smells so good.

"Alright", you whisper. His mouth is barely an inch from yours. You can feel every breath he takes. "I watch your streams."

And then your lips are on his.

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. He's cocky and he's smug. He makes your job harder than it has to be. He does everything and anything to get under your skin. But Tyler Ownes is the best goddamn kisser this side of the globe.

He trails his hands, his big, big hands, down your sides, pushes the blanket out of the way and grabs at your waist with just enough firmness. He pulls you onto his lap and rests his thumbs over the hem of your top. He breathes into your mouth and takes it slow. He doesn't care that you almost knock his hat out of the way when you try to wrap your arms around his neck. He just holds you tightly to him and lets you tug on his lip.

You honestly don't know how much time has passed when he pulls back, grinning an entirely new grin at you, hazy and euphoric.

"It's not midnight yet", he mutters, the slightest bit out of breath.

"I don't care", you mumble, drawing him right back in for another kiss. You think you might be addicted. You simply can't get enough of him. You can't get enough of Tyler Owens.

But then a thought strikes you, and you pull away with a grin that makes him raise his eyebrows.

You chuckle against his lips.

"If you feel it, chase it, right?"

[sugary-strawberry-shortcake]

Reverse Blossom (Yandere Batfam x Neglected! Poison Ivy‘s Daughter! Reader)

Chapter 4

A/N: i‘m back from my trip!! And seeing elephants for the first time was amazing!! Also I want to thank all of you guys for your love and support 🩷. I will answer all of you now. By the way my inbox is open for asks, request, anything!! I have the next 4 chapters of blossom reverse already prepared just need to edit them:) also if you want to be on he taglist the post is here.

I decided to give Y/N green eyes since she is the daughter of Poison Ivy, but if that bothers you try to imagine them as a different eye color. In a few chapter she will be wearing contact lenses.

He remembered the first time he met her.

It had been late. The manor was quiet. Bruce and Alfred had just returned from Gotham’s south ward, where Pamela Isley had finally been subdued—again. But this time, she’d left something behind.

Or rather, someone.

A toddler. Two years old. Big green doe eyes. Wrapped in a pale green cardigan and a layer of silence.

She stood behind Alfred’s leg, clinging to the fabric with both hands. Dirt smudged her face. Vines clung to her shoes like they didn’t want to let go.

He hadn’t known what to say at first.

But then she looked up at him—eyes wide, curious, cautious. He felt his heart soar.

He crouched.

Soft smile. Gentle voice.

“Hey there, Little Flower.”

She blinked, then giggled.

That was it. That was her name. “My Little Flower.”

The one who would follow him for years to come.

⸻

A few weeks after that, everything changed.

Bruce got stricter. Patrols got longer. Dick’s time at the manor became fragmented. Split between being Robin and trying to figure out who he was outside of the mask.

And somewhere in the middle of that chaos, she kept growing.

She started knocking on his door with drawings.

“Dicky, do you wanna see what I made?”

“Can you help me with this book? It’s about flowers and I thought you’d like it.”

“Do you have time for me today?”

And every time, it was—

“Not now.”

“Maybe next time.”

“Sorry, kiddo. Busy.”

Always busy. Always trying to protect Gotham.

Trying to live up to Bruce.

Trying to survive the weight of the Bat.

And then Jason died.

And the manor stopped feeling like a home.

Dick left. Blüdhaven became his distraction. His escape.

He told himself he was doing it for his own mental health. That Bruce was spiraling and Gotham was suffocating and—

And she was fine.

Alfred was there. Bruce would keep her safe.

He had no idea she’d wait for him to come back everyday.

No idea she started leaving her drawings at his door instead of knocking.

(Y/N)

She’d stopped knocking after the the tenth “maybe next time.”

She’d stopped drawing for him after the 20th.

She told herself it was okay.

Dick was busy. He was Robin. He had villains to fight. Gotham to protect.

She was just the quiet girl in the hallway with too many flowers in her hands.

If he wanted to spend time with her—he would.

That’s what she believed.

Until Tim came.

And Dick was there. Teaching him, praising him, sparring with him in the cave while she sat on the stairs with a book in her lap and a smile she kept forcing to stay in place.

Until Damian came.

And suddenly Dick was everywhere.

Taking him to movies.

Letting him win at arcade games.

Buying him snacks.

Sparring, laughing, teaching.

She’d ask:

“Can I come too?”

“Maybe next time.”

“I promise, sweetheart.”

But there was never a next time.

One night, she and Damian fought. Badly.

She didn’t want to remember what he said. Or how he made her cry.

But what hurt more was when Dick had found them—

And scolded her.

“What did you do to set him off, Little Flower?”

“He’s still adjusting. Try to be patient.”

She had just stood there.

Her hands were scratched. Her lip was bleeding.

Damian hadn’t even apologized.

And Dick hadn’t asked what happened. Didn’t care if she was fine. No one had.

He just assumed.

Because she was always the easy one. The quiet one.

The one who could be told “next time.”

(Dick)

He remembered now.

Her outside the cave door. Watching while he trained Damian.

Sitting crisscross on the hallway floor, pretending to read while her eyes never left him.

Waving at him from the garden window when he pulled out of the driveway.

He remembered saying “I’ll make it up to you.”

And then never did.

Maybe he hadn’t ignored her out of malice.

Maybe it was fear.

She was soft.

Delicate.

Too sweet for the blood-soaked world they all lived in.

He told himself he was protecting her by keeping her out of it.

But now…

Now she was disappearing before his eyes.

He stood alone in her room a while longer.

Just breathing.

The air smelled faintly like soil and old petals. The kind of smell that came from a garden that hadn’t been touched in too long.

He looked at the empty desk.

The clean corners.

The lifeless gray sheets.

His hands curled into fists—then relaxed.

“She’s still the same girl,” he told himself.

Just quieter. Just older. Just waiting for him to show up again.

He could make this right.

He just had to be present now.

He’d take her out this weekend.

To the movies. Or the bookstore—she used to love stories about mythical plants.

He could show her around Blüdhaven, take her for ice cream, walk her through the park.

Anything she wanted.

He’d ask what music she listened to now.

What books she liked.

If she still knew how to braid flower crowns.

He’d be a good brother this time.

The good brother.

Because she was still his Little Flower.

And she hadn’t wilted.

Not really.

Not yet.

He just had to reach her in time.

_____

The cafeteria buzzed with laughter and noise, trays clattering and chairs scraping against tile. Y/N walked in with a calmness that looked effortless—but only because she’d mastered it.

Her hair was pinned back neatly today. A soft cardigan over her uniform hugged her shoulders. Her smile was sweet, polite. The kind that melted teachers and made her friends giggle and call her “an angel.”

It wasn’t real.

But no one here needed to know that.

⸻

She spotted Damian at his usual table across the courtyard—half-shaded, slightly elevated, surrounded by boys who wore smugness like an accessory.

She hadn’t approached him in almost a month.

Not since she came back.

And even now, it twisted something sharp in her chest.

But she needed a cover.

She needed someone to relay the lie.

⸻

“Wayne,” one of his classmates grinned, nudging Damian with a cocky elbow. “Look who it is. Thought your baby sister forgot we existed.”

Damian looked up lazily, already annoyed—until his eyes landed on her.

For half a second, his face flickered.

Surprise.

Then nothing.

Just that familiar sneer curling on his lips.

She stood in front of the table with her hands folded in front of her skirt, like a model student waiting to speak.

Her smile was gentle. Practiced.

Too practiced.

“Hi, Damian,” she said softly. “Can I ask you something?”

He didn’t answer at first.

His eyes ran over her.

Slow. Quiet. Calculating.

Her tone was too even.

Her smile too polite.

She wasn’t trying to sit. Wasn’t looking at him with adoration like she used to.

He didn’t like it.

She cleared her throat lightly, still smiling.

“I have an after-school activity today. For a group project. I’ll be back by seven or eight, but I’m going with a few friends, so I don’t need Alfred to pick me up.”

Damian’s expression didn’t change.

“That’s it?” he said finally, voice flat.

“Mm-hm.” She nodded sweetly. “Just let Alfred know for me, please?”

There was a pause.

“You’re lying.”

The words were quiet. Not loud enough for the others to hear. Just for her.

Her smile didn’t waver. Although her heart stopped. She has always been a bad liar and Damian had always been too clever.

“Please,” she repeated. “Tell him?”

He stared at her.

She stared back.

And that was when it really hit him.

She wasn’t asking like she used to.

Not with hope. Not with that little-girl eagerness she used to wrap around him like a ribbon.

She was just… managing him.

Like one more problem to solve.

His jaw clenched.

"Fine,” he muttered. “Whatever. I’ll tell him.”

She beamed—too perfect—and turned without another word.

He watched her walk away.

She didn’t look back. Didn’t smile or thank him. Didn’t hesitate.

Just floated back to her group like she had never been at his table at all.

His classmates cracked a few jokes, tossed around stupid theories—“You think she’s got a secret boyfriend?” “Maybe she finally got tired of the prince of darkness”—but Damian barely heard them.

His eyes didn’t leave her.

Not for a second.

She was hiding something.

He didn’t know what.

But it unsettled him more than he wanted to admit.

There had always been a softness about her that grated on him.

But now that it was gone?

He found himself trying to figure out where it had gone.

And who had taken it.

She left the building last.

Her friends waved at her from the school gates, their usual chorus of laughter and affection echoing behind her.

“See you tomorrow, babe!”

“Text me the homework!”

“Don’t forget your scarf!”

Y/N smiled, waved, nodded.

Every move was practiced.

Perfect.

Painless.

She slipped the scarf higher up her neck once she turned the corner, tucking her hair into the collar and pulling the fabric loosely over her head like a hood. She walked fast. Quiet. Unseen.

By the time she reached the end of the block, her expression was gone.

Fear. Nervousness.

The bus ride took fifty-seven minutes.

She sat near the back, eyes low, hands folded around the burner phone she had bought with the cash Alfred had given her for food to buy for herself on her birthdays. She never did buy herself food.

The phone’s battery died somewhere around Midtown, but she knew the route by heart already.

She watched the buildings change.

From clean stone and glass to chipped bricks and graffiti-covered fences.

The bus hissed to a stop at the corner of 57th and Arlen.

She got off.

The sidewalk was cracked. A neon sign flickered overhead in a language she didn’t recognize. A man stood outside a liquor store with three missing teeth and a cigarette barely lit.

She kept walking.

The address was scrawled on the inside of her wrist in faded pen.

The building was narrow. Old. Smelled faintly of mildew and paint thinner. But it had three locks on every door and no visible mold, so that already made it better than some others she’d seen online.

She rang the buzzer.

A moment later, an older man—mid-sixties, gray hair slicked back, jacket too big—opened the lobby door with a metal key in hand and a clipboard under his arm.

He stared at her.

“You… uh…” His eyes flicked up and down. Surprised. “You’re the one who scheduled the 4:30 appointment?”

“Yes,” she said quickly, adjusting the scarf and deepening her voice just a little. “I’m Emilia—Emilia Forenzi. I am… exchange student. From Italy.”

The man blinked.

Her accent was soft, light, vaguely musical. A touch of Rome, stolen from too many foreign films.

“You’re Italian?” he asked, skeptical.

“Yes.” She nodded. “I study here. I am almost eighteen. I know I look young, but it’s normal. In Italy, we… age well.”

“…Right.”

She smiled, sweet and slightly nervous. “May I see the apartment, please?”

He looked down at the clipboard, then back up. Something in her tone—her posture—seemed to relax him. Soften him.

“Fine. Come in. But I usually don’t deal with minors, alright? No funny business.”

“I understand.”

She followed him up three flights of stairs.

The apartment was small.

One room. Tiny kitchen. Cracked tile in the bathroom. Rust along the radiator. A smell of something faintly sweet and rotten in the walls.

But the window opened.

The lock worked.

The shower had water pressure.

It was… doable.

“Like I said,” the landlord muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as he handed her a small application form, “this neighborhood’s not too bad if you keep your head down. But it’s still Gotham. You get a pretty girl living alone, some eyes are gonna notice.”

She swallowed. “I can handle.”

He looked at her again. “You sure you’re almost eighteen?”

“Yes,” she said immediately.

“You don’t got ID?”

“In Italy,” she lied. “I forgot to renew it before flight.”

“Uh-huh.” He frowned.

Then handed her a pen.

"You’ll need a signature. From a parent or guardian. Permission form, you understand? Legal reasons.”

She froze.

The air felt suddenly too cold.

“…P-permission?” she repeated.

“Yeah.” He gave her a look. “You’re a minor. No signature, no keys. Especially not in a place like this.”

She stared at the form.

Blank lines. Parent signature. Emergency contact.

All the things she didn’t have.

All the things she couldn’t ask for.

Her hands tightened on the pen.

“…I—I will get it,” she said softly.

The man nodded. “Alright. You get that, bring it back here. I’ll hold the place till the end of the week. But no signature? I can’t help you.”

She nodded again.

But her chest was hollow.

The girl smiled at the man and said her goodbyes. Not missing the worried frown he sends her.

As she walked back down the stairs, scarf tight around her throat and hands curled into fists inside her sleeves, she realized her pulse was shaking.

She had no one to sign for her.

She had no one to ask.

____

Damian Wayne | The Manor |

The main hallway was quiet when Damian walked in, dropping his bag onto the bench near the entrance.

The manor always had a certain weight to it after sunset—an old, cavernous silence that clung to the walls like shadows. But today, something felt off.

More than usual.

⸻

He tugged at his uniform blazer, unbuttoned it, and turned the corner—only to pause at the top of the main staircase.

Someone was standing at the bottom.

Dick.

“…What are you doing here?” Damian asked, tone flat.

His brother was leaning on the bannister like he’d been waiting for someone. His hair was slightly messy, still in his travel jacket, eyes distant and too focused for someone just home from Blüdhaven.

Dick looked up, blinking as if only just realizing Damian had spoken.

“…Hey.”

“That didn’t answer my question.”

“I could say the same to you.”

Damian rolled his eyes and descended the stairs. “I live here.”

“Yeah, well… I’m visiting.”

Damian narrowed his eyes. “You never just visit. You’re either gone or calling Alfred at 3 a.m. for muscle cream.”

Dick gave a weak smile but didn’t defend himself.

He was still watching the front doors.

Still waiting.

Damian paused halfway down.

“Who are you waiting for?”

“Y/N.”

Damian blinked. “…Why?”

Dick scratched the back of his neck, his smile faltering. “Just… thought I’d talk to her. Spend some time. I stopped by her room earlier. You know, just… realized I haven’t seen her in a while.”

Damian tilted his head slightly. “She’s not here.”

“I can see that.”

“She said she has a school project. After school thing. With her friends.”

Dick frowned. “That so?”

“That’s what she told me,” Damian said coolly, but something in his voice betrayed the fact that he didn’t fully believe it.

And Dick caught it.

“…You sound like you don’t buy it.”

Damian didn’t answer.

Instead, he walked past him toward the kitchen.

Dick turned, following him with a look.

“She used to come home straight after school, right?” he asked. “She’s not the type to hang around malls or… sneak out.”

Damian stopped. His jaw tensed.

“She doesn’t lie,” he said.

Dick raised an eyebrow. “But she did.”

Damian didn’t respond.

⸻

It was 6:56 now.

Dick checked the clock.

Still no sign of her.

And the longer the minutes ticked by, the more wrong it felt.

He didn’t want to be dramatic. Didn’t want to jump into full protective-mode. But something about it nagged at him.

She always came straight home after school.

She always told Alfred where she was.

And now?

“Maybe we should check in,” Dick said quietly.

Damian’s expression didn’t change.

But his eyes darkened.

_____

Her fingers were stiff by the time she reached the manor gates.

The walk from the bus stop had been longer than she remembered—colder too. The wind had picked up along the hillside, numbing her ears and flushing her cheeks, and even though the streets had mostly emptied by that hour, she had kept her scarf high and her head down.

The apartment application was folded tightly in her backpack, zipped into the inner lining where no one could see. Her heart hadn’t stopped pounding since she’d left the landlord’s office. Even now, it beat against her ribs like it didn’t know she was safe yet.

She gripped her key in cold fingers and slipped it into the lock.

The manor door creaked open.

Warm air met her instantly. Familiar. Scented with faint woodsmoke and something rich from the kitchen. Maybe Alfred had made stew.

She exhaled, stepping in—

And froze.

At the top of the stairs, they were waiting.

Dick and Damian.

Both standing.

Both silent.

Damian leaned slightly on the banister, arms crossed. His expression unreadable, sharp eyes fixed on her like they were dissecting the very air she brought in with her.

Dick stood taller, hands in the pockets of his jacket, brows pulled in a worried line. Not angry. Just… tense. Focused.

Like they were both watching for something.

Her heart jumped.

She hadn’t expected to see him.

Dick.

Not yet.

Not this soon.

In the previous timeline, he hadn’t returned from Blüdhaven for months. By the time he had, she would have already faded into the walls. By then, he didn’t notice her until it was too late.

So when she looked up the stairs and saw him standing there beside Damian—older, taller, all soft concern wrapped in blue and black—her breath caught.

And then—

“My Little Flower.”

Her body jolted. Eyes wide.

That name. That name that hadn’t passed his lips in years.

She flinched before she could stop herself.

Dick’s brow creased. “Hey—what’s wrong?”

She shook her head quickly, lips tugging into a reflexive smile. “Nothing. I just didn’t know you were home.”

“I just got in. Wanted to surprise everyone.” His voice dipped softer. “Especially you.”

That made her stomach twist.

He hadn’t said that in years either. Not even before she died. As a matter of fact, he hadn’t even spoken that softly with her in years.

Dick came down a few steps.

Damian followed silently, slower, more calculated in his movements. His arms weren’t crossed anymore. His hands were at his sides, but stiff—ready.

“Where were you?” Dick asked gently, the kind of warmth that would’ve made her melt when she was younger. Or if she was her true fourteen-year-old self.

She swallowed. “I told Damian earlier—group project. We were at a friend’s house. We lost track of time.”

Damian’s eyes sharpened.

He took another step.

“You don’t do group projects,” he said flatly.

She looked at him.

“I do, actually. For history class. Ms. Varela assigned one yesterday.”

“Who?” Dick asked, tilting his head.

“Uh… Maya,” she said. “Her name’s Maya. She lives near Gotham Heights.”

Damian’s stare was unrelenting.

“You didn’t mention that earlier.”

“I forgot,” she said quickly. “I was rushing.”

“Which Maya?” he asked. “Last name.”

YN hesitated.

Too long.

“Rossi,” she said.

Another lie.

Another crack in the glass.

Dick’s smile was still there, but it looked strained now. Forced. He was trying to believe her. He wanted to. His little flower would never lie to him.

But his eyes flicked to Damian for a second—and that moment said more than anything.

They didn’t believe her.

She felt it like heat crawling up her neck.

“I texted you,” Dick said. “We tried to call.”

“I didn’t see,” she replied, pulling her bag closer. “Phone died on the bus.”

“You took a bus?” Damian asked.

“Yeah. It was fine.”

“That area’s not fine,” he said, voice sharper now. “If you were really near Gotham Heights, you shouldn’t be walking around alone.”

“I wasn’t alone.”

“Then tell me where exactly you were. Street. Building number.”

She hesitated again.

The silence was too long.

“I don’t remember the street,” she said. “We just followed Maya from school.”

Damian stepped closer.

He was still a full step below her on the staircase, but somehow he still felt like he was looking down on her. Maybe due their height difference.

“You’re lying,” he said, quiet, razor-sharp.

Her breath caught.

Dick’s hand rested lightly on her slender shoulder. “Hey, let’s not jump on her. Maybe she’s just tired. It’s been a long day.”

But even his voice had changed now. The warmth was still there—but underneath, there was a thread of doubt. Of tension.

They weren’t backing down.

They were watching.

And she knew—if she gave them one more chance to press harder—

They’d start digging.

She smiled again. Soft. Rehearsed.

“I’ll go change. I still have some homework to finish.”

She stepped past them before they could answer. And neither of them moved.

But their eyes never left her.

She shut the door behind her faster than she meant to.

Click.

Locked.

She didn’t usually lock her door.

But everything was too much.

Her pulse was still high. Her fingers trembled just slightly as she set her bag down and crossed to her desk.

The room smelled like earth and blooming flowers. Familiar. Safe.

But wrong now.

Everything was wrong.

⸻

She plugged in her phone, the screen flickering back to life after a few long seconds.

Six missed calls.

Three messages from Dick:

hey, just checking in ☀️ you good?

miss you, little flower 💙

come talk to me when you’re home? 🍯🌼

Her stomach turned.

He hadn’t texted her in years. Not even once during the worst of it.

He used to leave her on read for days, weeks.

And now—he was texting her with emojis?

He was calling her Little Flower again like it hadn’t been buried years ago with every broken promise.

For a moment—just a moment—her heart ached.

Because maybe… maybe this was what she’d wanted back then.

Just a message. Just a moment of attention.

Just a brother who remembered her.

But it was too late.

And it felt wrong.

She didn’t know what was changing the past.

Or why they were suddenly looking at her again.

But it wasn’t for the right reasons.

It wasn’t love. Not really.

It was something else.

Something colder.

Something that made her skin prickle even when they smiled.

She stared at the screen a few seconds longer, then set it facedown.

Her mind was still spiraling.

What if they started tracking her phone?

What if they were already suspicious?

What if they tried to dig?

She stood and moved to her door.

Unlocked it just enough to open it a crack.

Alfred was walking past with a tray, heading toward the dining room.

“Sweetheart?” he asked, pausing when he saw her. “You’re not coming down?”

She gave him a soft, tired smile.

“I still have to finish that group project,” she said.

Alfred hesitated. His eyes searched her face, gentle and a little too knowing.

“I see,” he said quietly. “Shall I bring your dinner up, then?”

"Please.”

He gave her a little nod.

And left.

⸻

The dining room was set.

Empty seat at the end of the table.

Same as always.

Dick sat quietly across from Damian. Neither of them had touched their food yet.

Their eyes met once.

And something passed between them.

Not words.

Not questions.

Just quiet understanding.

They were both thinking the same thing:

She was hiding something.

And they were going to find out what it was.

taglist:

@justwannabecat

@c4xcocoa

@cosmicyuk1

@galaxypurplerose

@nisarelle

@exactlynumberonekryptonite

@holderoflostmemories

@runaaclou

@noclue-0

@devils-blackrose

@delias-stuff

@wizzerreblogs

@charlenexoxo1

@staarflowerr

@sleep-7372

[sosasturns]

streamin - c. sturniolo bot ver.

"you good?" chris asks, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, his hand still lazily moving the mouse around.

"mhm," you hum, shifting in your seat.

he's too locked in to notice at first, leaning closer to the monitor, the black tee stretched over his back, sleeves hugging his arms. his stubble is doing things to you, catching the glow of the desk light, and don't even get started on the messy headphone hair and tired smile he throws at chat every now and then. you're trying to focus on the youtube video he queued up, but the way he looks is making that impossible.

"sure?" he pushes, glancing at you again, this time catching the way your gaze lingers a little too long on him.

"yeah," you mutter, brushing it off.

you settle back in your seat, legs crossing and uncrossing, but your mind's racing. before you can second guess it, your hand lands on his lap, your fingers trailing along his thigh.

his movements still for a second, and his lips twitch, trying to fight the smirk creeping in. "what you want?" he asks, voice low but steady as he keeps his eyes on the game.

you shrug, playing it cool, even though your hand's still rubbing slow circles against his leg.

"nah," he says, finally cutting his mic audio, leaning back in his chair as he tilts his head at you. "you're lying. what you want?"

you hesitate, chewing on your bottom lip as you glance at his lap, your face heating up when you can feel him watching you.

"use your words, baby," he murmurs, his voice softer now, teasing, as he leans in just slightly.

your voice barely comes out as you mumble, "i wanna fuck," hiding behind your hand like it'll save you from his reaction.

he freezes for a second, lips twitching, and then he glances toward the screen, his eyes flicking over the chat. his grin spreads, slow and smug, like he knows something they don't. the comments flood in: what'd she say? why's he smiling like that? what's going on?

"alright, y'all," he drawls, leaning back and casually tossing his arm over the back of your chair. "matt's gonna take over the rest of the stream."

you shoot him a look, your face heating up as he's already pushing back his chair, standing, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward the door.

just as the two of you slip out, matt's voice filters in. "yeah, yeah, i'm here. hold up."

he strolls into the room, the headset resting crooked on his head as he squints at the screen. "what’re y’all going off about?" he mutters, reading a few comments.

one catches his attention: what's chris gonna go do?

matt glances toward the desktop camera, sinking back into the chair and placing his drink down with a smirk. "who do ya think?" he says, his voice dripping with humor as he adjusts his headset.

the chat erupts: NOT MATT EXPOSING HIM LMAO.

matt takes a sip from his cup, sighing in content. "y'all are too easy," he says, shaking his head as he queues up a game.

@ sosasturns

sosas 💬’s : new blurb theme incoming? had to type this up, chris looked insanely good in last night‘s stream. want more? sound off in my inbox! requests r open

“sosa mafia” taglist: …

[blueheron15]

CINNAMON

pairing: jj maybank x bsf!reader

summary: when you struggle with your eating disorder and body image issues, jj is always there to help you. cuz that's what best friends do... right?

warnings: flangst, ed

a/n: i rewrote this a million times but think i’m finally happy with it. if your struggling with something similar, YOU ARE NOT ALONE! my inbox is always open ♡

you stood in front of the mirror in your bathroom. you were in a cute, lose white tank top that stopped a few inches above your belly button and a short white skirt with little pink flowers scattered around. you made sure your thigh gap was visible, and the faint outline of some of your ribs. because in some, sick way you had wanted other girls at the kegger to ogle at your slimness.

something inside of you was wrong. very wrong. you were so put together. giggly. full of life. sometimes you even thought you were pretty. but in this moment, you wouldn't use any of those adjectives to describe yourself. you were so in your head. you were broken.

you hated yourself. maybe you even deserved the constant hunger pain. the dizziness whenever you stood, or moved too fast.

you had body image issues to the third degree, and developed an eating disorder at the ripe age of 13. sometimes you felt fine. normal. but other times, like this, it was hard to function.

bracing your hands against the counter, you inhaled a deep breath. you're okay. you're okay.

you slowly lifted your head back up, not wanting to look yourself in the eyes, but u were interrupted by a knocking at your bedroom window.

you were pretty sure it was jj. tucking your hair behind your ears, you padded over and a soft smile graced your lips as you were met with jj’s face on the other side of the glass.

he was in his usual attire- ripped tank top, cargo shorts, boots, and a backwards cap- as you opened the window and guided him in. he immediately flopped down on your bed and got comfortable on his back.

“how’re you on this fine evening?” he questioned in a southern drawl.

“all good in the hood.” you lied.

“yeah, well not for me. i was lookin all over for you dude! why didn’t you tell me you were leavin? woulda come with you.”

“first of all, get your shoes off of my bed.”

“yes ma’am.” he saluted, sitting up to take off his boots.

“and,” you sighed, opening a drawer to pull out your pajamas. you really did not wanna cry right now. but you could feel your throat pulsing and lips beginning to wobble. “i don’t know.” you mumbled. “i just don’t feel well.”

you quickly walked into your bathroom, closing the door shut behind you, wrapping your arms around yourself. “fuck,” you mutter under your breath, palming your face.

“woah, woah, woah.” you heard jj call as he scrambled off of your bed, standing in front of the door. he shook the handle, but it was locked. he moved to rest his palm against the door. “what’s wrong, bubba?” he asked softly.

you hiccuped at his words. it was the nick name you often used for him when comforting him after a fight with his dad, or cleaning up his cuts and bruises.

he called you the name too, in your vulnerable moments like this. while rare, he had experienced your break downs before. with him being the only person you could open up to without the fear of judgement.

at first, he would often get angry and frustrated. no one was allowed to think so terribly about his girl like that. not even herself. when he was there, he learned to gently coax you out of your thoughts, the only person capable of doing that.

“c’mon,” he gently prodded. “what’s goin on in that pretty little head of yours?”

you moved to sit on the toilet, pulling your legs up to your chest and resting your head in the crook of your knees as you silently cried. “don’t know.”

“don’t bullshit me, y/n.” he said with concern.

“i- god i just feel fucking insane! like, why can’t i have a normal time at a normal party with out comparing myself to everyone else? why can’t i eat like a normal person? like, i didn’t even wanna drink that much because i know i’ll get bloated. i c-can’t function sometimes and i know saying this out loud prob’ly makes me look crazy, even to myself… but i’m just so tired, jay.” you whimpered.

he was on the verge of tears himself as he leant his forehead against the door. he was just as clueless as you. he didn’t know why you always restricted meals, or often just didn’t eat in general. he didn’t understand how food genuinely tasted like ash in your mouth because it had become so difficult for you to swallow, metaphorically and literally.

he didn’t understand how you thought you were anything less than absolutely perfect. so he offered the only thing he could.

“i’m sorry, baby.”

“it’s fine.” you mumbled, defeated.

“it’s not,” he insisted gently. “i… i know i’m not your therapist or whatever. but i always wanna help you in anyway i can. so… please, let me in.”

your eye brows scrunched in confusion, thinking back to a minute ago when you basically poured your heart out. “i just did.” you said, confused.

“no, like, let me in.” he said, jiggling the door knob.

“oh,” you said, a genuine grin coming over you face. you reached over without fully sitting up and unlocked the door, which was open in an instant.

“c’mere.” he said, opening his arms and pulling you into a hug. his muscular arms providing a sense of home and security.

i’m so tired. you repeated. whether you said it in your head out loud, you weren’t sure. but regardless, jj caught you as you jumped up and locked your ankles behind his lower back, nuzzling your face into his neck and holding onto him just as tightly as he was holding on to you.

he buried his face into your hair, inhaling your scent and pressing kisses to your head, leaning against the wall as he held you up. “you’re good. i gotcha, mama. you’re gonna be okay.”

you’re not sure how long he held the two of you up, but you were dozing off as you played with the hairs on the nape of his neck.

“alright,” he finally said, rearranging his grip on you and walking out of the bathroom. he placed you down on your side of the bed. “how’s this sound; you change into your pajamas, i make us a lil snack, and then we watch a movie, or go to bed. hmm?”

you nodded languidly. he snatched the clothes you had taken from your drawer off of your dresser- a lose fitted blue t shirt and a pair of cotton shorts, holding them out for you with one hand.

the other hand scratched at his eye. a nervous tick.

now, it’s not like he wanted to see you getting changed in this moment. but you are the leading star of his wet dreams….

obviously, though this was not the time. he knew that.

but the emotional toll of the break down and the psychical toll of you being hungry had run its course. you felt your limbs melting into the bed. so, with flushing cheeks, you asked him quietly. “um. can you…” you started, nodding your head to the clothes.

his eyes nearly bugged out of his head and he tried not to sound hopeful. “y’sure?”

“don’t wanna move.” you shrugged. you watched as a suggestive glimmer adorned his eyes. ah, jj maybank. ever the pervert. you kicked his shin with your foot.

“hey, watch it!” his voice rose an octave as he jumped back to defend himself “you just said you were too tired to move!”

“don’t be a perv, j. it’s the same thing as me being in a bikini.”

“not really” he mumbled, sitting down next to you.

jesus, you didn’t have it in you to fight anymore as you felt your eyes tearing up again. “whatever, i’ll just-“ you started, extending a hand to grab your pjs.

“hey, no.” he insisted, placing his hand over yours and gently putting it back on your side. “i’ll do it, y/n.”

you closed your eyes, leaning your head against the headboard as you nodded. here you were- offering yourself to someone so intimately in your most vulnerable state. and it wasn’t even about sex. jj had never experienced anything like you before.

his fingertips ghosted over the hem of your top. “arms up.” he whispered huskily, stripping you of your shirt. he let a hand gracefully fall on top of your stomach, lightly trailing his fingers up and down, his thumb sweeping over your side and your ribs. your eyes screwed shut impossibly tight.

a tear rolled down your cheek as you wearily opened your eyes. he was staring at you with not a pitiful look like you had expected. his expression was fairly neutral as he took it all in, but there was a hint of… love in his eyes.

he grabbed your ankles, threading them through your skirt, leaving you in a bra and panties. he then dressed you so delicately, his calloused and bruised hands juxtaposing the way he handled you in his arms.

“good?” he asked, smiling with pride at dressing you, giving your hips a squeeze. you nodded, then he rushed out of the room, promising to “be right back!”

he came back carrying an assortment of chips and some containers of fruit, placing them down on your nightstand table.

the two of you ate together for a while in silence, your room illuminated only by the movie playing in the background. you laid next to each other, shoulder and thighs touching. occasionally, when he noticed you struggling, he’d pop and raspberry into ur mouth and coddle you, using his fingers to grip you jaw and move it up and down, causing you to giggle and nearly choke.

after a while, with a mouthful of chips he said. “we’re basically married now, you know that right? like, all this shit i just did for you? it’s what fuckin elderly couples do for each other.”

you snorted. “yeah, right. ur not even my boyfriend.”

“well, can i be?” he teased.

“no.” you replied in a deadpan tone.

this was a common conversation between the two of you- best friends who were not so secretly in love with each other.

“fuck you.”

“fuck you.”

a beat of silence. you placed your baggie of chips on your night stand, and turned on your side to rest your head against his chest. “i’m tired.” you sighed. “thanks for helping me.” you murmured lazily.

“‘course,” he said, kissing your head. “g’night. love you.”

“love you too.”

[feverish-dove]

Hiihihi

I just wanted to say I really liked the way you wrote Senku!!! :3 and I was wondering if you had any more thoughts on the guy. Headcannons, or quite literally anything. Truthfully, I just wanna hear you yap about him. (Hes an Obsession 💔) Full liberty to write whatever that comes to your mind!!!

(and I completely understand if you don't. Just wanted to let you know how much I liked your thoughts on him :))

Senku Headcanons

Holy shit i'm sorry this took so long. It was not my intention to leave y'all hanging for so long. Especially for an ask when I said my inbox was open. Life's been crazy but that's no excuse. Also really weird question but I ended up making myself a Seto Kaiba (yes from Yu-gi-oh!) multipart fic as a birthday gift to me. lmk if anyone is interested in me publishing it lol. One more thing like two other people tagged me in a song trend and I swear I'll get to it too! I just don't know who to tag next haha. Senku Ishigami x Reader warnings: minor spoilers but they're not really important word count: 2,064 not cross posted on any other platform

Pre-Petrification

Y’all probably started out as classmates who argued about your specific hyperfixation interest lmao.

He noticed you because you challenged him—not emotionally, but intellectually. Most people couldn’t keep up, but you corrected him and were right. (You were NOT playing. It was more than likely something stupid like FNAF.)

He totally pretended he wasn’t interested at first. Played it cool, but Taiju saw the way Senku looked at you when you talked about your interests.

Homeboy wants to learn everything about everything. Hence his sudden bugging about your knowledge on a topic he isn’t fully educated on.

You both stayed after school often—him for his experiments, you for your own interests. Eventually, you started hanging out by accident more often than not.

He offered you coffee from a vending machine one day and casually said, “It’s statistically proven that shared caffeine intake boosts cognitive synergy.” You think that was his weird way of flirting.

The first time you called him out for overworking, he smirked and said, “Tch. Worrying about me already?” You replied, “Obviously.”

He confessed in a weirdly clinical way: “I’ve run the numbers. Being with you would significantly enhance my quality of life. Wanna test that theory together?” (Listen I know this sounds lame but go rewatch the first episode I promise you he talked like this T^T second hand embarrassment rewatch.)

You said yes in the most nonchalant way possible. By jumping up and down.

Taiju had no idea this was coming.

Yuzuriha knew this was coming.

He wasn’t very physically affectionate at first—he’d tap your hand when passing notes or adjust your collar like it was nothing, but it meant everything.

You helped him with a big experiment once, and he added your name to the credits. You argued that Taiju did way more work, so he should get the credit! Taiju just laughed you off.

Senku just wanted your name written next to his permanently. He published the document so you’ll be metaphorically stuck with him forever since nothing truly gets erased once it’s on the internet. Unless of course humanity was going to turn into stone but what's the likelihood of that?

Your first kiss wasn’t planned. You were mid-argument about the stupidest possible thing you could think of, and he just leaned in and kissed you to shut you up. “There. Now can we get back to the part where I’m right?” This just caused the fight to escalate because him, ‘right?’ Who does he think he is? You were totally winning!

He starts explaining things differently to you—not because he thinks you don’t get it, but because he enjoys seeing your reactions.

This is also how y’all became known as that couple who is always on facetime instead of just calling one another. (I get it, I too watch those gacha reaction videos at my grown age.)

When the petrification hit, he was thinking about you. Not in a romantic way like Taiju did with Yuzuriha, but instead in a, “it’s been about 1,245 years so far so they should be at ‘x’ coordinates because they were at ‘y’ when the beam hit.” “Clothing needs to take higher priority than initial calculations. They might not be comfortable being naked in the wild, extreme scenario or not.” Etc.

Stone World

Senku doesn’t realize he likes you right away. He’s hyper focused on survival, but you keep showing up to help—always curious, always sharp.

You challenge his ideas, not to be rude, but to push him further. That’s what gets his attention.

One day you show up with materials he didn’t ask for but desperately needed. He stares at you and says, “…You’re terrifyingly efficient. I like that.”

When you’re injured, he freaks out silently. He’s cold and efficient treating the wound, but he doesn’t sleep that night.

He builds you your own workstation so you can tinker with him. No one else gets one. Chrome whines because yuo don’t even use it half the time!

Gen teases him constantly. “Senku, your little lab assistant’s got you all flustered—should I schedule the wedding, or…?”

He confesses in the least romantic way possible: “I don’t believe in fate, but statistically, I’d rather build civilization with you than without you.” You had no idea it was a confession until he later refers to you as his girlfriend. It’s as much of a shock to you as it is the rest of the villagers.

You tried to kiss his cheek for sharing the cotton candy with Homura. Instead you ended up kissing his lips by accident. Your first kiss tastes like mineral water and burnt sugar from failed wire experiments.

Senku tries to pretend nothing changed after you get together, but he starts letting you touch his stuff. That’s a big deal. The village only has so much material to come by, after all.

You once called him “handsome” absentmindedly. He froze mid-step, dropped his charcoal pencil, and never brought it up again. But he remembers.

You’re the only one allowed to sit on his lap while he sketches blueprints. Sometimes he forgets you’re there until you shuffle. (Note: this does not work when he gets the invention idea at first. He gets too excited and wiggles too much. It’s only for refinement.)

Speaking of notes, congratulations, your new status as being around Senku 24/7 means you’re the official Note Taker of the new world! Title Pending.

“bUt FeVeR, dOn’T tHeY aLrEaDy HaVe A rEpOrTeR?” Shut up, I said what I said. You’re more recording data and experiments to make the first books and logs rather than make a record of history. Your beloved boyfriend is the one who gave you this task because he hates you. Jk. It’s because he doesn’t have enough hands to write everything down and conduct experiments at the same time so you have to do it for him.

Speaking of which, Senku is a certified yapper. Don’t let his nonchalant persona trick you, he’s anything but chill. If you also go off on tangents Gen is probably the one forced to break you both out of your excitement… again. (Listen they tried Chrome but he just joined in and Kohaku will not hesitate to beat both your asses so Gen it is. Poor guy lol.)

He’s not big on traditional affection, is what a liar will tell you. If anything you’re the one less prone to PDA. Now I say this but it comes with terms and conditions. Senku’s a busy guy, he likes to use his mouth–hold up–for giving instructions. So kisses are more rare. He also needs his hands for crafting, writing, just about anything really. So while he does like hand holding it’s a bit harder to get to. Which leaves y’all mostly just leaning against each other to show affection.

He does cuddle though. If it’s hot he’ll complain but that’s just because he likes to run his smart-ass mouth.

The villagers think you’re married already because you’re always beside him. And caveman laws. Senku won’t correct them.

Bonus: one day, he casually hands you something shiny and says, “This alloy’s rare. Only made it for one person.” That’s how you get your engagement ring—made from meteorite metal.

General

He’s incredibly observant, even when he seems distracted. If you so much as wince from a splinter, he’s already pulling out tweezers and homemade antiseptic.

Pet names are rare, but he sometimes calls you “Einstein,” “my lab partner,” or “miracle cure,” depending on his mood and what you’ve helped him with.

He won’t say “I love you” often, but he builds entire systems and tools just to make your life easier. That’s his way of saying it.

He builds you a custom gadget that only you can use. It’s completely unnecessary in the most loving way possible. Might even make it so on purpose just so you think of him, even if it is because of annoyance. Little shit.

Senku teaches you science constantly, even when you’re just trying to nap. He says knowledge is the ultimate gift. You say he is. He says you’re trying to distract him. You were.

When he works too hard and skips meals, you force-feed him ramen. He grumbles, but later admits you’re the only one who can make him willingly slow down.

You’re the only one allowed to mess with his hair. He pretends to complain but leans into your touch when you pull it back or wash it. Lives for your head scratches. Me too girl, me too.

He keeps small souvenirs of you in his lab coat—notes, dried flowers, a tiny bead you once gave him—and says it’s “just sentimental chemical bonding.”

Cuddles aren’t rare, but when he crashes from exhaustion, he clings like a koala and refuses to let go until morning.

He blushes like mad if you kiss him in public, but not because he’s shy—it’s because his brain short-circuits with affection.

If you get sick, he goes overboard researching herbal and chemical remedies, refuses to sleep until you’re better. Gets sick afterwards.

He gets quietly jealous when others impress you—then doubles down on his own projects to one-up them.

He lets you be the first to see every new invention, no matter how trivial. Your reaction matters more than the scientific community’s.

He absolutely remembers every important date (your birthday, anniversary, the first time you kissed). He’ll never make a big show of it, is the first lie he ever tells you.

If you’re sad, he gives you rocks that glow in the dark, handmade magnets, or funny contraptions to make you smile. Shiny rock theory anyone?

You once joked you wanted a robot. He built you one. It only says one phrase: “Senku says drink water.” Because he’s a petty asshole and you wouldn’t have passed out on the track field if you just listened to him! (Really trying to think of a Mecha Senku joke but I can’t. All I got is clang, bang, bang.)

He respects your boundaries like a contractual agreement. If you say “no,” he steps back 10 paces and documents your preferences for future reference.

You’re the only one allowed to tease him without being hit with a snarky comeback. He just smirks and says, “Tch. Fine. You win this one.”

Any inventions that might mildly convenience your life he will 100% make extra just for you. Like when he made a hair conditioner. (Shameless plug here, y’all should read my ‘Sun Kissed Science’ because it’s about him inventing sunscreen for you.)

If you cry, he freezes up, then offers you logical comfort “It’s a temporary emotional spike, we’ll regulate the cortisol levels.” Yes he does get better about this if it’s after petrification.

He teaches you math with rocks and sticks, and you somehow end up loving it because he makes it sound like magic. (That one Tumblr post that’s like “I told him to teach me about physics the same way he talks about poetry.” Or something idk I can’t remember.)

If anyone flirts with you, Senku swoops in with cold facts that thoroughly humiliate them. “You do know flirting with someone in a committed relationship is statistically foolish, right?”

When he’s working late, he lets you fall asleep in his lab, covering you with his jacket without waking you.

He grins like a devil when you match his sarcasm. He’s met his chaos equal and loves it.

He has a specific notebook labeled with your name. It contains sketches, formulas inspired by you, and a list of projects to make your life easier. It’s made of leather and crappy paper and love.

Gen called you “Senku’s moon” because he claims you’re the one constant that keeps his tides in check. He only said this to Senku but you’ll never know since he’s too embarrassed. He has absolutely threatened Genw ith manual labor if he spills.

You once called him “hot” during an argument, and he nearly walked into a tree. He denies it, but Kohaku saw.

When the two of you argue, it turns into a debate show. People bring snacks. You both win.

He secretly carved your initials into a spot behind the observatory, visible only when the sun sets just right.

He doesn’t believe in fate, but when you touch him, he swears his neurons fire in patterns he can’t explain—and that’s saying something.

@mylostleftfootsock im so sorry for the wait!

[foreingersgod]

Wait up for you . EE

pairings: emily engstler x reader

synopsis: she’s an early bird, you’re a night owl…but she also refuses to sleep until you agree to go to bed with her

A/N: this sounded a lot better in my head, but i fear it came out terrible lol, also this was a request that i lost somewhere in the inbox so apologies if that was you!!

“how many more pages left?” emily asked, voice muffled by her pillow. she was laid flat on her stomach, eyes fighting to stay open as her fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt.

it was well into the early hours of the morning by now-moonlight creeping into your shared bedroom, crickets chirping loudly outside. it was your favorite time of day, when the world had gone silent and it was just you (and your lovely girlfriend) with no interruptions. life was always busy for the two of you, with work and your education and with emily’s career, and it left you with little time to have a few hours of peace. so tonight, after working a double and taking your last final for the semester, you allowed yourself some time to unwind and read.

emily had been out with her team for the majority of the night, eventually coming home to see you tucked under the duvet of your bed and propped up against the headboard. you were quite the night owl, she knew, always expecting you to be busy with something when she got home. whether that be reading, watching a new show, or doing some random craft you’d seen on tiktok that you convinced yourself you could nail first try. it made her smile as she walked through the door, watching your eyes flicker across the pages rapidly. but whilst she loved your wakeful nature, she often found it difficult to keep up with.

emily was almost the exact opposite of you, in a way, going to bed earlier than most and getting up hours before you for practice. she was the sun and you were the moon. she didn’t mind that you stayed up late except for the fact the she truly couldn’t sleep without you. ever since moving in together, she found it harder and harder to go to bed alone. she craved the weight of your head on her chest, the silent snores that would occasionally fall from your lips throughout the night. so she’d wait up every night for you, finding something to keep herself busy until you were ready to finally fall asleep.

“i don’t know, babe” you hummed, trying to focus on the paragraph you were on. you were hoping to finish your book by tonight, but your particularly needy girlfriend was making it near impossible with her small interruptions “maybe like 35…40?”

“40?!” emily groaned, turning her head away from you and letting about a dramatic sigh. she didn’t know how much longer she could stand.

“emily, you can go to bed!” you laughed and set the book down on your lap, reaching over to gently caress her arm “you’ve had a long night, you need some rest”

“i can’t believe you just said that” she joked, rolling over onto her back, a calloused hand coming up to rub her jaw. she looked up at you with half lidded eyes and a lopsided grin on her face “i wanna wait up for you, you know that”

you bit back a smile. your heart swelled knowing that she loved you this much. but it also made you feel so unbelievably guilty some nights, that she was missing sleep just because of you. on several occasions you would beg her to go to sleep in fear that she would wake up cranky and exhausted and barely make it through the day, but she was more than insistent on waiting.

“i know,” you sighed “i just don’t want you to be tired s’all”

she rolled her eyes, scooting down the bed to wrap a strong arm around your torso. her head came to rest against your hip as she kissed the exposed skin of your thigh.

“i’d rather be tired every single day than go to bed without you”

you chuckled under your breathe, shaking your head slightly. she was impossible to resist. emily squeezed you tightly as she felt your stomach expand in laughter, fingers sneaking their way under your shirt to brush against your smooth skin.

“you’re so cute, em”

“cute enough for you to finish the book tomorrow and go to bed with me?” she tilted her head up, hopeful for your compliance. her lips formed a small pout which earned a playfully disappointed look from you.

“you’re so lucky i love you” you put the bookmark back into its spot in your book, placing it somewhere on your cluttered night stand. emily instantly moved off of your lap to lay back on her side of the bed, arms opening wide for you to slide into.

you accepted her embrace as you finally settled into bed, allowing emily’s large body to envelop your own. she pulled the blanket up over your shoulders once you were comfortable, making sure you were tucked in just the way you liked. your head found solace underneath her chin, chest pressed against hers. it was like the muscle memory, the way the two of you blended into each other as the night grew darker. her body relaxed as your weight pressed into her, hearing your heart beat slow.

“mmm, i love you too” she placed a chaste kiss to the top of your head. now satisfied, she let her eyes close completely. she’d wait for hours just to have these moments with you “g’night, baby”

“goodnight, em” you muttered before finally drifting off to sleep.

[exqorcism]

A LITTLE BIT SCANDALOUS ...

... BUT BABY, DON'T LET THEM SEE IT

♡  🕋  ᪤  𝓘𝗡𝗧𝗥𝗢  𔘓 !  #  𝗗𝗨𝒞𝗜𝗡𝓖. .. . 👛 ᯤ ა

★̶̲ ‟ . .. . bratty!stepsister!reader

␥ ‎○˳ bratty!stepsis reader that caught nicholas' eye the second she walked in into his house. the pure hatred they had for each other is not something that went unnoticed by their parents. fighting about the most stupid and littlest things imaginable, the constant hatred and venom soon turning into something different — deeper. something that went beyond their control and beyond their parents' notice.

␥ ○˳ maybe it was the way she carried herself so effortlessly — maybe it was the unmissable similarity between her and nicholas' personalities. her playful remarks, his teasing replies, the not-so-innocent touches under the blanket, supported by nothing but the pure hate they had for each other. or at least that's what they thought, at first.

␥ ○˳ bratty!stepsis!reader that walks around the house with nothing but her — his — t-shirt on when nicholas' friends are over. the subtle swaying of her lips, bottom lip caught between her teeth as she hears one of her stepbrother's friends comment on how hot of a stepsister he has.

␥ ○˳ bratty!stepsis!reader that, for some unknown reason, always finds herself in her stepbrother's bed every single night. with his hand covering her mouth and his gravelly voice whispering not-so-sweet nothings into her ear while he pounds her into the mattress, she can't help but feel it's riiight where she belongs.

␥ ○˳ nicholas taming his lil bratty!stepsister!reader just for her to be a complete bitch the day after, and after... and after.

␥ ○˳ bratty!stepsister!reader that's the only one that can actually get nicholas to listen — if he's in the mood to do so. with his cock twitching in his pants and knees digging into the marble bathroom floor, mouth devouring her as if he's a man possessed, he can't help but surrender completely to the woman above him.

␥ ‎○˳ as much as he hates to admit it, he loves it — he sees it as a challenge. forbidden, but so tempting. annoying, but oh so good when he can finally bury himself to the hilt and let go, paint his little stepsister's walls white — claim her as his for no one but them to know.

␥ ○˳ bratty!stepsis!reader that belongs completely and totally to nicholas, and nicholas, that belongs to his little stepsister. no matter how many people recur in her and nicholas' beds every few days, somehow they always find themselves tangled in each other's sheets by the end of the night.

‣ ✮ . . now playing .ᐣ into you — ariana grande. temporary fix — one direction. stargirl interlude — the weeknd (feat. lana del rey). diet pepsi — addison rae. do i wanna know? — arctic monkeys. dirty little secret — nessa barrett. you right — doja cat & the weeknd. like i would — zayn. if walls could talk — 5 seconds of summer. buwyg,ib — ariana grande. no shame — 5 seconds of summer ++ more .ᐟ

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐔 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍. stepcest. cheating. perv!nicholas. rough name calling. manhandling. pain kink. somnophilia. dacryphilia. veery public sex. impact play. blood kink / blood. switch nicholas/switch reader. mutual pining. sneaking around. graphic smut descriptions (as per usual with my fics). › ⊂ will be updated ⊃ ╰ minors do not interact. ᘒ ˖˙‹𝟯

⎯ ɞ requests for STEPBROTHER NICHOLAS X BRATTY!STEPSIS AU are open. please don't steal my ideas, concept or any part of this au. this is pure fiction, remember that before sending hate in my inbox.

for: @urlitttlevenicebitch @iamsebastiansstan i love you 🤍 @greengoblinswifey @blackynsupremacy @chavezwifeyy @nickchavezs @nicholaslut @darlingnikkisixxxx @niteskysx (please let me know if you'd want to be on this au's taglist) ♡

[gilverrwrites]

Can I request dickkori throuple shenanigans? Them hearing/seeing you, who's fairly shy around them so they've never really gotten a solid feel on if you're romantically interested, say something absolutely heinously horny on main while you don't realize they are right there watching/hearing you embarrassing yourself. "I have a thirst that can only be quenched by sucking the sweat out of Nightwings jockstrap after a particularly active patrol" level thirsting. "Can I just have a SIP of Starfires bathwater. Please God I'll never ask for anything else ever 🙏🏽" while you're too shy to ever say anything to their faces but they're right there tittering to themselves just out of your line of sight hoping you'll keep going about how you want to sink your teeth into the both of them

��𝓻𝓾𝓽𝓱 𝓸𝓻 𝓭𝓪𝓻𝓮?

DickKory/Reader, ≈ 900 words, ft. Arsenal A/N: If you saw this posted without any text no you didn't. I defo did not accidentally his 'post now' instead of 'save' while editing, so I had copy paste the ask into my inbox and re-edit all my colourful lettering again. Nope. It's also totally not like my 3/4th time doing that lol. Also, hey Starfire anon, was this you?

“Truth.”

“Chicken.” Arsenal eyes you judgmentally over the rim of his non-alcoholic beer. “Nightwing or Starfire?”

It’s telling to everyone in the vicinity that you don’t even wait for context before you groan petulantly; “What? Just one? That’s an impossible choice!”

Normally, you’re not so forthcoming, but Arsenal seems to have lucked out on catching you in a chatty mood. The perceived privacy of the towers' rec room at 1 AM, and your choice of drink probably have something to do with it too.

“I mean, have you seen them both? Like Nightwing, have you seen him after battle? I swear, just looking at him evokes a thirst in me that can only be quenched by sucking the sweat out of his jockstrap.” Self-consciousness trickles the back of your psyche as the words leave your lips but the memories of Dick post-fight; emboldened by victory as sweat causes his dark hair to stick to his face, his body shaking from exhilaration, is enough to keep you from shying away from your statement.

The look on Arsenal’s face has shifted, from judgment to intrigue. His brow arches, a cheeky smile on his lips as he probes for more, a chuckle underlining his words. “Yeah? An’ Star?”

“Heh, Star? Fuck.” You sip at your drink, parching your dried lips as you search for the words to describe your team's very own warrior princess. “Earth doesn’t make them like that.”

“Noooo, they don’t.” Arsenal agrees. Briefly sharing that same, dreamy, far-off look that adorns your face. “I’d be a dead man after one day on Tamaran, that’s for sure.”

“Same. But if I’ve gotta go, I wanna be drowned in a tub of Starfire’s bathwater. It’s the only way I would die happy.”

Laughter fills the room, Arsenal letting out a contagious full-belly chuckle that infects you, but your head is too full with thoughts of Starfire; naked and relaxed, her sunset skin gleaning in a pool of soapy bubbles, how she might sound humming in delight as she eases her muscles under the hot water, to notice the sound two more voices not to far away.

It’s Arsenal whose demeanour changes first. The smile on his lips shifting from humorous to mischievous as he cocks his head to the side, turning so one ear it closer to the door. Your smile, on the other hand, wavers to an open jaw as you mimic his actions and register the familiar sound of Nightwing and Starfire tittering between themselves.

For a moment, you’re able to delude yourself into believing that they’re simply laughing among themselves over something else, something related to whatever conversation they were having on their way over here. But as you shift to face the door, you see them both through its crack. Starfire, with her big, shining green eyes, stares right back at you, her pointed fingernails pressed to her full lips in an attempt to stifle her smile.

Nightwing is right beside her, his lips pressed to her ear, making no attempt to hide his conceited grin as he leans up to whisper something conspiratorial in her ear.

A flush is already seeping through your body as you come to terms with the situation, but then Nightwing turns his gaze to you. His eyes are concealed by his mask, but his intentions are as bright as Starfire’s aura, made apparent by the provocative way he bites his lower lip beneath his left canine. The combined heat of their attention, especially after what you’d been caught saying is enough to set your skin completely ablaze, from the tips of your ears, right down to your toes.

In a panic, you stand, almost spilling your drink in your frenzy, but managing to catch it at the last second. “I- um- haha- That… that was… I think it’s time for me to go to bed. Good night, Arsenal.” Feeling awkward and unsure of your actions, for some reason, you bow to your truth or dare buddy instead of giving him the nod you’d intended.

It’s not until you turn your attention back to the door that you realise you have to pass by the very subject of your humiliation in order to make your exit.

“Hey! You never actually answered my question.” Arsenal goads as you hesitate, feet scuffing against the polished stone flooring.

Though it adds to the pit in your stomach, that last poke to the fire is what you needed to kick you into gear again. With a deep breath to steady yourself, you march through the door, drink still in hand as you tell Arsenal to “Shut the fuck up!”

“Goodnight, Star, Nightwing.” You offer the couple a stiff farewell without making eye contact, before continuing down the hall.

Each footstep makes a deafening echo as flee, but the sound is not nearly as heart-stopping as the melodic sound of Starfire calling your name. You don’t have the courage to turn around and face either of them, but you come to a standstill and wait apprehensively for her to continue.

“Do you wish to take a bath before bed?” The playfulness in her tone is subtle, but undeniable. “If so, we would not want for you to drown in it. Perhaps you would appreciate our assistance.”

[arcane-fox]

The Wolf You Feed (6)

Joel Miller x Female Reader Part 6 (Ongoing) | Rated Explicit | 6.5k WC | Series Masterlist | Read it on AO3

Summary: Set in a fictional New England town, you fall for your handsome, intense and outdoorsy neighbor while renting out your parent's vacant summer home during a brutal winter.

Chapter Warnings: ANGST. Smut. POV-Switching. Rated Explicit. 18+ MDNI. (CHAPTER SPOILERS AHEAD) Some possible triggers including mentioning death of a child and contemplated suicide. Smut includes P in V, oral (female receiving). See series masterlist for general warnings.

A/N: Hang in there my loves, I'll ease your pain by the end of this chapter (with smut, of course) 🧡 Also my inbox is always open if you wanna talk about TWYF / ask questions! Or anything really. It really means the world 🧡

JOEL

“No, Tommy. I really did fuck it up.” He sighed into the phone. Defeated and sad. 

Joel had reached out to his brother when he was at his wits end. He didn’t recognize who he was becoming and needed to talk to someone before his anger just consumed him whole. 

He broke down and told Tommy everything about you. The one person he really could confide in, and once he opened his mouth he couldn’t stop. 

For the most part Tommy was trying to be understanding but also was caught off guard. Tess was practically family as far as he was concerned. He thought you might just be an indulgence for him. A shiny, new toy for him to play with. He didn’t really see you as a viable partner. Joel didn’t dare tell him how young you were, but Tommy seemed to pick that up on his own the way he talked about you.

“You can probably still work it out with Tess.” Tommy pushes.

“I aint interested in working out anything with her.” He snapped.   

“Ok. Ok, Joel.” He conceded his last attempt to bring things back to normal. He realized that Joel was a different person now. They were not close like they used to be, but he never realized just how much Joel was struggling. Lost. He needed someone on his side, not against him. 

“Look, man. Just give her space. Don’t be a hot head and scare her off.” Tommy tries to reason with him. Tommy always was the one who was more of a people person. His successful life with his wife Maria was something he embraced proudly. It changed him in a way that made him more responsible. 

As they grew older, it was strange how things were shifting. Joel was always the protective big brother, but now Tommy was  starting to fill that role with his grounded life experiences giving him more wisdom. 

“A real help you are.” Joel mutters and throws his phone onto the table and taps his fingers, agitated. Not exactly at Tommy, but he was letting his anguish escape however it needed to. He knew Tommy would understand that he was acting more like a wounded animal that was scared.  

He was finally acknowledging that after all his shitty behavior this is the hand he was dealt. He couldn't sweet talk you into forgiving him and he no longer had Tess on standby to console him. Tommy was trying to be supportive but he just didn’t know how.

When he tried to sleep all he could see was the hurt in your face. It didnt matter what he did or didn’t do because you were hurt and it was all his fault. 

He hurt you and he wouldn’t be able to change that. 

—

YOU

Days go by in silence and you’re not sure how to feel about it. Part of you wanted Joel to fight, but the other part was glad he obeyed. Respecting your demands to leave you alone. 

The nights were the worst. You almost gave in to calling him on several occasions. Even if he did wrong, something about him still called to you. A relentless need that you had no control over. 

You were nearing the two month mark living in Kineo, and Joel had been present in almost all of it. Your fresh start to independence unexpectedly had a co-pilot, and one that you weren’t ready to fly without.   

You kept it all to yourself. Marlene never brought it up and you put on a smile at work. It felt like you were just floating through the week with no real purpose or direction. You had paid little attention to anything beyond what was right in front of you. 

The snow was falling quickly, and in the last few hours of your Thursday shift nobody was out buying coffee. There was a major snowstorm that was just starting to ramp up. You had heard many customers fretting about it over the past few days, but didn’t give it much thought. Apparently it was a big deal and you should have been more prepared, but you would figure it out. 

Tess stopped by and your stomach was in knots. She looked numb and business focused, like this was also a distraction she was leaning on to get by. She scuffed the snow off her boots in the doorway and called out to you both. In too much of a hurry to go past the door. 

“Ladies, close up and go home. We’re closed tomorrow too.” She left after you both acknowledged and you were so grateful that it was a quick encounter. You weren't ready to face her just yet, and keeping a secret from her was taking its toll. It felt wrong, and it was slowly eating away at you. 

The ride home was treacherous and you could barely see out your windshield. This was the first real brutal winter storm you encountered since moving and regretted not preparing for it at all. As you got closer and closer to your house you noticed how dark it was. The ominous grey storm clouds blocking whatever little light was left for the day. The only lights you saw were the flashing orange on the upcoming plow truck. 

The house is icy and dark. You go to flick the switch just to confirm the power is out. You use the flashlight on your phone to stumble into the kitchen where you find a few candles to light. 

This was going to suck.

Headlights shine into the front window and you see a truck parked at the end of your driveway. 

Joel.

You answer the knock at the door. Your pulse beating with intrigue, as if your body finally settled on needing his presence more than not. 

You open the door halfway, wanting to be angry at him but finding yourself enamored with how the snow was sticking to his perfectly tousled hair. 

Of course he couldn’t give up the neighborly act and you wondered his true intentions. 

“Don’t mean to bother you, but the power is out and it’s gonna get real cold tonight.. over here.” He puts his hand on the door to push it open slightly wider as he steps forward. “I’d like you to stay at my place.”

His sincere eyes searched yours, looking for any sort of indication how you were feeling about his offer.  

“Won’t get in your way, I promise. Just helping out… a neighbor.” He hesitates on the last words. “And I promised your dad.” he admits sheepishly.

You roll your eyes at that. Your mom and dad were always getting into your business. You had ignored their calls all week so it wasn’t a surprise that they reached out to him.

His offer seemed genuine and you were getting concerned about how cold the house already was. Your candles and flashlights would only do so much.

“Ok.” You agree, giving little emotion. You didn’t want him to think you were conceding easily. You were just being practical. 

Truthfully, you could only suppress the way your body still ached for him for so long.

You feel that heat inside you try to ignite the smallest flame. The feeling that just wouldn’t die despite it all. A spark waiting dormant at any chance to catch. As much as you tried to ignore it, it was still there.

Joel looked relieved that you agreed to it. His protective nature was called into action and he didn’t want to have to force you to do anything. Even if you were icing him out, he still felt a duty to make sure you were safe. Of course, he hoped in time you would forgive him, but for now this was all that really mattered. 

“And I gotta bleed the pipes so they don’t freeze. Told your dad I’d take care of his place.” He pushes the door open even more as he steps forward, and you can smell the coldness radiate off his body along with the leathery scent from his jacket. The fleeting thought of wrapping your body around him and inhaling his scent was overpowering.  

His bullish advance felt intrusive but also non-negotiable as he snapped you out of your delulu. 

You step aside so he can come in. You just now notice his bag of tools and industrial flashlight. Contractors. 

It doesn't take him long and you keep your distance, sticking to your bedroom and packing a bag with the essentials. After a few minutes he knocks on the door to get your attention. You don’t open it, and let him speak to you through the door. Trying to establish that you still have boundaries and your bedroom is one of them.

“What?” you ask with a forced annoyance.

He pauses for a moment and then his husky voice seeps through the cracks.  

“I gotta plow a few houses before it gets much worse. Get your stuff together and let yourself in. The fire is stoked and the house is warm.”

You hear his footsteps as he walks away after waiting a moment. That spark inside burns hotter. A want. You missed him, and you needed him but you had to stay strong. 

Damnit, Joel Miller. He was making it so hard to stay mad at him. 

—

His home was so warm and inviting. The wood stove was so practical and cozy. You started to feel like a character in one of your books in some remote cabin in the woods. You had added a few logs to keep it burning. Joel had them neatly stacked nearby and it wasn’t too difficult to figure out. 

A few hours passed before Joel returned home. He entered the house with nothing but a polite nod to acknowledge you made it over safely and an approving glance at the freshly stoked fire. 

You had been reading in front of the wood stove, wrapped in a blanket. He kept his word and left you alone for the most part. He spent most of his time up in his loft after telling you he fixed up the bedroom for you to sleep in and implied that he would resign to the couch when he was ready to sleep. 

The comforting smell of the burning wood and the crackle the fire made was peaceful. There were a few lit candles giving the cabin an authentically rustic feel. Even if they were there to be practical, it felt romantic. 

For reasons you couldn’t explain, you felt a pang of disappointment in how much of a gentleman he was being to you. It made you feel guilty for being so cold towards him, and annoyed at how respectful he was being to your boundaries. He was doing exactly what you asked him to, and yet you were realizing it wasn’t what you expected. Pushing him away didn’t make you stop wanting him. It was just the safest way to protect your feelings. It was lonely.

The longer you sat in solitude, the more you reflected on what you really wanted. Still, you felt paralyzed to take that next step, riddled with guilt for Tess and a wavering disdain for Joel. You wanted your Joel back. The one that was rough around the edges. The one that made you come alive in ways you didn’t know were possible when he had you under his weight. The one that took what he wanted and left you fucked out and wanting more and more. Ruining future men forever.  

You could have him back, if you just forgave him, but that would also mean coming to terms with the aftermath of what happened. Talking about it. Making it real. 

—

JOEL

He kept to himself quietly in the upstairs loft, trying to keep himself calm. You were right there, content and safe, still not speaking to him beyond what was necessary. Having you so close and still so out of reach was eating him alive, but at least you were there. 

Not having electricity for a hot shower didn’t help his mood. He was able to freshen up with a washcloth, deodorant and change into a clean shirt. The heat rising from the wood stove made the loft extra toasty. The worn loveseat where he often strummed his guitar was welcoming to his tired body. It sucked in his weight and creaked in protest as he shifted to prop his legs up over the arm and lounge back. 

The day took a toll on him. An early start doing 10 hours worth of contractor work and then spending many more plowing and shoveling snow. He was tired and his muscles ached, but it was nothing in comparison to how heavy his heart felt. 

He swiped through the final photos you sent to him, as he did every night, admiring everything about them. Beyond the obvious, it was the look in your eyes. The happiness and longing for him that you once had. 

He felt his jeans tighten as he focused on your perfect breasts and your swollen clit, begging for his touch. Remembering how your body felt as if it was made to take him. He needed to be inside you again and then hold you forever and never let you go.  

You were too good for him. You deserved more than a washed up old man who couldn’t even be honest with you. 

And still, he needed you. Craved your body and your warmth that your smile radiated. Craved that innocence you had that he loved to corrupt. The way that you made him feel when you needed him. You were so smart and capable, but he saw how your eyes lit up when he did things for you. He made sure to be there for you before you ever asked. He wanted to take care of all your problems. Protect you and make sure you never wanted for anything. The way your body called to him. How right you made his world feel. Now that you were part of it, how could it be any other way?     

Honesty. It was all he had left to give if you would let him. 

Joel looked at a worn photo that he kept in his wallet. He had to make things right. He had to try.  

—

YOU

Joel had used the gas stovetop to heat up some canned soup and it was the first time he interrupted you, offering a bowl. 

After awkwardly navigating around each other in the kitchen, you thank him and resign to his bedroom, alone. You leave the door slightly open so the heat from the wood stove would warm the room. A double wick candle he thoughtfully left for you on the nightstand flickers the room in soft glow. 

Despite the warm balsam scent from the burning wax, the room smells overwhelmingly of Joel. Clean. Masculine. His woodsy cologne that never overpowered but always made itself known. The same blue comforter that you laid under before but a fresh pair of gray colored sheets. They were perfectly smooth. Unwrinkled and untouched since he placed them on the bed for you. It filled you with a sadness as you balled your hand into the sheets, mourning the beautiful memories.

God damnit, Joel. 

You were getting settled in, wrapped up in another blanket and reading your book by candle light when you heard a knock on the door frame.

You lock eyes with him. There is a heavy sadness in them. 

“Can we talk for a second?” 

It was his house after all. You felt you owed him at least a conversation. Even if it was that conversation. 

You close your book as you hesitantly swing your legs over the side of the bed. The door creaks open wider and he stands in the doorway with a hand on the knob, looking for permission to come in. The way his t-shirt was straining against the flex his biceps made you flutter. It wasn’t fair how attractive he was without even trying.

“I guess.” You concede and quickly bring your gaze to the floor. Afraid your body would betray you as your heartbeat quickened.  

Joel enters slowly and walks over to the edge of the bed, sitting a respectable distance away from you. Close enough to touch you, but not invading your space.  

“I uh, don’t know how to say it exactly.” he nervously starts. He was acting differently. Lacking that confidence he so expertly wielded. Vulnerable.     

He pulls out a worn and folded paper and opens it gently to reveal a little girl. She looked young. 11, maybe 12. 

He slides the photo into your hands as you study it, unsure what he was getting at.

“That's my baby girl, Sarah.” His voice is low but heavy with emotion. His hands clasped between his legs and thumbs fidgeting. 

“You have a daughter?” you ask, completely caught off guard. Nothing in Joel’s world left any clues to him having children or a family. You approach this new knowledge with trepidation, noting how old the photo was and wondering where she is now. “Shes beautiful.” 

You can see some similar features when you look closely, except that she was smiling big. Something Joel rarely did. 

He isn’t crying but you can see that glossy look over his eyes. This was a memory that hurt. Your chest tightens, picking up on his pained hesitancy to speak his next words. 

“She was twelve when… when she died.” he says as he takes the photo back into his hands with an unsteady grasp.

Oh my God. His revelation hurts to hear. He looks down to the floor, hunched over slightly with his hands gripping the edge of the bed on each side of him. 

You rest your hand on top of his and feel his skin go taunt over his knuckles as he balls his hand into a fist. Trying to keep his composure. 

“Tommy and I were there by her side. She was sick and the doctors didn’t know how to make her better.” He paused. “I… couldn’t save her.” His voice just above a whisper and you wonder if he meant to say it out loud, as if he had been harboring that guilt for years. 

“Joel I… I’m so sorry.” You wipe the tear that falls down your cheek. “I had no idea.” 

You sit in silence with him, letting the news wash over you both. Unsure what to do other than be at his side while he was lost in his painful memories. 

“S’been almost 20 years, but a day don’t go by I don’t think about her.” He folds the photo and puts it back into his pocket. His voice steadies and he takes a breath as if a huge weight was lifted off of him. 

You felt privileged that he was sharing this piece of his life with you. It was clearly not something he went around telling everyone. It put things into perspective, too. 

He was a dad. 

“Before you start wonderin’ it.” He looks at you knowing full well you are going to be thinking about his history sooner or later. “Raised her myself since her mother left us when she was barely a year old.” He hesitates to say more, like that part didn’t matter. “Sarah was my entire world.”

You feel at a loss with what to say. The more he opened up the more silent you were. He had experienced so much that you never knew about. A single dad. Losing a child. You settle with just closing your hand on his and moving closer to him. What could you possibly say? No, you needed to just listen. He was opening up in a way he never had before, and you suspected rarely would again. 

“M’ telling you this because there's more.” He pauses. “I tried to move on, but I couldn’t stay in Texas. Wasn’t home anymore without her there. Tommy and I went to Boston to start over. He had nothing tyin’ him to Texas either and we can be contractors anyplace. Thought it would help.” He skoffs at that, mimicking how naive he was. “It didn’t.”

You could feel the shift in the room. The feeling that he was about to share something else vulnerable. 

“I… I didn’t see the point in livin’ anymore.” he says with a blank stare, lost as if he was reliving that moment of hopelessness. Ashamed of his weakness. 

“You don’t have to-” you try to interrupt, not wanting him to feel he owes sharing this story with you when you can see how much it hurts him. Part of you is uncomfortable with the rawness of his past he was exposing. Not because it is hard to think about, but because it hurts to imagine him being so desperate and lost that it was his only option.    

He held his hand out towards you, fingers fanned wide, urging you to let him finish before he drops it back slowly to his side.

“Then I met Tess. The night I was going to... be done with it all.” He stumbles over his words, battling with the crudeness that he couldn’t stop from pouring out of his mouth. 

“Joel..” you plea. Not sure if you were strong enough, worthy enough, to hear all this. Until you realized he had to get this story out. Who knows how long he had kept it bottled up to himself.  

“She gave me a reason to keep going. Became my rock. The only person that understood that pain… because she lost her son too. Two people at the end of their rope.”

You never knew Tess had a son. It was so easy to see how two headstrong people could connect and bond over the shared traumatic experience of losing a child.  

“We helped each other… survive.” he sounds unsure about the word choice. “We moved here intending to live separate lives but we clung on to each other. It worked for a while, but we lost sight of where we started… and where we were going.”

He didn’t need to say any more. You knew exactly what he meant. Their entire relationship was built on empathy and survival. They became codependent on each other. 

“I’ll always be grateful for what she did for me. I owe her my life.” He nods, agreeing with his words that he was perhaps speaking out loud for the first time. 

“It doesn’t make anything that I did right. M’not telling you this for pity. Tess will always be someone I love, but we are not the same people we were back then. We were holding onto each other because we were too scared to be alone. Took me a long time to figure that out. Too damn long.”

You detect that annoyance returning to his voice. A resentment.  

“And Tess… she aint got there yet. Don’t think she ever will. And I can’t keep livin’ like that.”

It didn’t make his actions hurt you any less, but it gave you a new perspective. You didn’t know how deep their relationship went and you didn’t realize he felt an obligation to her that he was just starting to understand. 

“And I’ve been feeling this for a long time now, well before I met you. Just go’in along each day with no direction. Not givin’ a shit.”

He stops and looks you in the eyes, intense and deadly serious.

“Was you that made me realize I had been searching for this.” He flips his hand over and his fingers weave with yours. You can feel the desperation and the want in his touch as his thumb grazes over yours. His brow softens.

“Knew it when I first met you and I couldn’t stop thinkin’ bout you night after night. That I had to take back my life. That existing aint the same as living.” 

You wrap your arms around his waist and pull yourself into his chest, breathe in his warm scent and want nothing more than to be in his arms again. Right or wrong you don’t care anymore. This is what you want. You want Joel.   

He wraps his arms around you and envelops you in his heat. You can feel his heartbeat singing into your ear with a heavy thud. Strong and resilient. His safe embrace silently apologizing for hurting you along the way. Promising you he wouldn’t ever hurt you again. 

His honesty made him less of a mystery now. His hardened exterior was built up over the years of living with this horrible hand he was dealt. Now that you knew the truth, you could finally start to make sense of everything.

Forgive him, even. At least try to. 

“I’m sorry.” he presses a kiss onto the top of your head and holds you. “I’m so sorry.” 

—

After holding you for a few moments Joel untangled from you and left you to your privacy, continuing his respectful act. Giving you time to process everything he said. Your mind was racing, analyzing everything. Calculating what happens next.

You knew if you crossed that line you would need to forgive him for what he did, and come to terms with sneaking around and indulging in a forbidden romance. At least, if you wanted to keep your job and the only other friendship you had going. Your parents could never find out either. They would never approve of you being with someone almost as old as them, let alone enable it any longer by allowing you to live in their home. You would have to cross that bridge later. This wasn’t about anyone else though. This was about you and Joel and what you wanted. 

Your next steps were heavy weighing your options, but also so very clear. No longer could you deny the way he made you feel and the way he made you ache for him when apart. He was remorseful for what he put you through. You could see it in his eyes. Hear it in his voice. Feel it in his touch.

Forgiving Joel would also solidify your relationship. It would be you and only you going forward. No more questionable lines of what you were and what you weren’t. 

You made your way out to the living room and saw Joel sitting near the wood stove, wearing reading glasses and a worn book opened in his lap. You didn’t take him for a man that would read for pleasure, but then again you can only do so much without electricity. He looked so peaceful with the glow of the fire illuminating him. A peace that only came with being so open. Everything between you felt lighter, like this was what needed to happen to get to this point.   

He looks up at you as you make your way over to stand in front of him. 

“Promise me.” you beg. “Promise me that you won’t hurt me...” You pause. “Ever again.” It was an absurd demand, but it was what you needed to hear from him. 

He takes off his glasses and closes his book, standing up to join you. His wide and towering body over yours made you feel so small in his shadow. Helpless against him but always safe with him. 

His greys caught the light of the fire, reminding you how much older he was and how much it turned you on. His well kept form only made him more and more attractive to you. Everything about him made you want him. An insatiable desire that you couldn’t deny any longer.  

“I promise, sweetheart,” he says as he sweeps your hair behind your ear and tenderly holds his palm against you. It makes you feel weak. 

“And… Tess?”

“Only you.” He says gently as he takes your hands in front of him. He repeats softer and pushes his forehead into yours as he leans over you, whispering “Only you.”

His hand comes up to cup your cheek and cranes your jawline upward to match your gaze. “I’m yours, if you’ll let me.”

Now you were a goner. 

His lips press into you and you melt into him. His tongue wastes no time to push inside and ravage your mouth. You give in to him, letting him consume you and relishing in his neediness to have you. 

His hands roam under your shirt, pulling it off hastily over your head. Your lips part only briefly. His roughness on your skin is welcomed as he thumbs at your waist band and urges you to step out of your lounge pants. 

You return the urgency, tugging at his shirt to make it disappear. His broad chest was a sight you would never tire of. Wide shoulders that could wrap you up effortlessly. 

Joel tore from your lips and trailed his mouth along your jawline. Nipping at the supple skin and gently biting at your neck as he removed your bra. He slid out of his jeans and boxers while he distracted you with his mouth.

You tip your head back as he goes lower, scruff scraping against your collarbone. Trailing lower and lower, dragging along your breasts. He took you into his mouth, letting his tongue dance lightly over your hardening nipples. Sucking with increasing ferocity until he released you with a wet pop and repeated the same on the other side.

He dropped to his knees with his hands firmly grappling your hips he pulled you in close to him. His hot breath tickled as he thumbed your panties down to expose your cunt.

“This is mine” he declared with a wicked grin as he slid your panties down your legs. His possessiveness couldn’t help but show itself and it was something that drove you wild. A pillar in your relationship that he was establishing and leaving no room to question. You were his.  

He wasted no time, nudging his nose into your clit as his tongue made quick work of your needy mess. Muffling his face into your heat with a hunger.

Your legs were unsteady but he had such a grip on you, holding you firmly against his face while he devoured you. His scruff getting damp while you started to drip for him. His rough patches sent shivers through your body as they grazed your softest skin while his lips and tongue pleasured you. He rubbed himself against you like a feral cat. Letting your wetness mark him. 

He couldn’t get enough of you. His muffled moans vibrated against you exquisitely as he tasted you and moaned in delight.  

Your hands found a home in his grey locks of hair, grabbing tightly with each flick of his tongue making you come more and more undone. He knew exactly how to touch you, drawing moans and gasps from your lips while he buried himself deeper. Pausing on the spots where you reacted the most with expert precision.

He started to take his time, relishing in your sweetness and giving you more and more with each tug against him. He was mindful of making it last as long as possible for you, practicing some restraint that he often ignored. This was about you. Apologizing with his tongue in a way that his words could never.

You tried to hold on as long as you could as your muscles weakened and your breathing shallowed. You cried out his name as your orgasm washed over you. He lapped up your sweetness as you rode the wave. 

He gently guided you down to join him on the floor, leaving sloppy, open mouthed kisses against your belly.   

You were gasping for breath as your heartbeat slowed. He leaned forward, pressing his lips into yours and plunging his tongue inside. You could taste yourself on him. He pulled away and gave a pleased smirk as his eyes narrowed over his nose. 

You sat back on your haunches  with your legs spread open. He eyed you up and down like you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“I don’t deserve you.” he says almost in disbelief. 

“I know.” you tease.

His cock looked painfully hard. You reach a hand towards him and wrap your fingers around his girth. He was so impossibly thick. His veiny shaft called to you like a siren song that twitched under your touch. 

He wrapped his fingers around yours, engulfing them as you pumped his cock together. Slow and intimate. The increasing tightness of his skin made you feel guilty for having come already when he was so on edge. You could feel how ready he was and how disciplined he was behaving. You were anxious to have him inside you again as you brushed your thumb over his slit and felt his wetness beading.  

“Turn over, sweetheart.” he reluctantly pulls your hand away from his throbbing heat. Your finger drags along the tip as he pulls it off and is wet with his precome. You bring your shiny fingertip to your mouth and lick it clean as you stare at him. The filthy display makes him groan through gritted teeth.

You then obeyed, maneuvering yourself so you were on all fours with your backside to the fire. Grateful for the fur throw rug that was soft on your hands and knees.  

He stifled a groan as he shuffled up behind you, sitting up on his knees. He reached around to your front and pressed his fingers to your opening, pleased to find you still wet and begging to be filled. He dipped just his finger tip inside to tease you, reminding you how thick his fingers were, and how much they paled in comparison to his cock. You pressed back against him and let out a needy moan as he plunged his middle finger in deeper. Your desire to have any part of him inside you was overwhelming.

He pulled all the way out and circled your clit with his wet fingertips, making you whimper. You were still sensitive and swollen from moments before.

“Gonna fill you up, sweetheart. Promise.” his Texan accent came out thick.

He pressed his hips into you as he looked down your back, settling himself between your legs. His hands grabbed your hips and he lined up with your entrance, taking his time. Relishing in your shared bodies once again. His fingers kneaded you gently, holding tightly. Afraid if he let go he would lose you again. 

He slid a hand up your spine, pushing you down the closer he got to your shoulders, urging you to relax while he held you up at your hips. Your fingers curled into the fur carpet as his cock nudged you. 

Oh, how you missed it.

The wait was agonizing. Facing the window, the world looked so peaceful. A black mirror reflecting only the shimmer of the falling snow catching the light from the fire. It was quiet, calming and isolated. For this moment, all that mattered was you and him.

He split you open on his cock as he thrust in, slowly. You could feel his broad head catching on you as he pushed in and out. Working himself a little deeper with each push forward. It was agonizingly slow and you could only imagine how difficult it was for him to be patient. His raspy moans caught in throat with every thrust as your tight walls choked him. 

He was fully sheathed inside you, his hips flush with your body as he held you there for a moment. You were filled to the brim with him and it felt intoxicating to have him inside you. His entire length being strangled by your cunt. You could feel his neediness growing, and his desire to lose himself in you. His throbbing cock begging to come. 

He wanted more.  

He pulled your hips back as he pushed into you, stuffing as much of him inside as he could and being present with how tight you were. 

He was relishing in having you again. His right hand left marks as it clawed into you and you could feel his desperation build while left hand slapped onto your ass and firmly gripped you. He pulled you into him and held you still and he could feel your pussy clenching him, begging for friction. Swallowing him as deep as he could go.

“Joel… please.” you beg him to move with your delirious whines. 

Then he fucked you. Slow. Hard. Desperate to make it last. Controlling his urge to lose himself until you were moaning and begging for him. Every thrust into you an apology and a promise.

It didn’t take long. 

When he came you could feel his heat spilling inside you. Pumping you full of his devotion. You cried out as you rode the wave with him, taking in every drop of his spend as you writhed on his cock. 

You fell forward as he pulled out of you, gasping for air. He leaned over your body, his softening cock dragging against you as he leaned down to kiss your neck. Then he collapsed to the side of you.

He reached to the couch to grab a pillow and the blanket that was hung over the side. It wasn’t the most comfortable, but there was no place you wanted to be other than in his arms, engulfed by his heat and filled so much that cum was leaking out of you. Surrounded by the warmth of the fire and smelling sweat and pine. 

He pulled you tight against his body with his bicep curled under you to support your head. The length of his body pressed into your backside as he held you close, never wanting to let go. Never wanting to lose you again.

He kissed the top of your head again gently and used his free arm to rub your side soothingly as you both caught your breath. 

Joel caressed your sides up to your shoulder until you were fast asleep, stealing secret moments to press a kiss to your body or breathe you in. Holding you so tightly to his body that nobody would dare try to take you away from him. Possessive and determined to prove to you everyday how sorry he was and how important you were to him.

Tonight was something different. It was an intimate side of Joel you had not seen on this level before. You had no doubt that his rough dominance would return with a welcome vengeance, but tonight he was showing you a different part of him. Coming to terms that he was being vulnerable with you because he trusted you.

You faded in and out of sleep, each time comforted when you felt his heat against your body and his heartbeat thumping against your back. 

Despite what happened in the past, this moment felt right. Joel Miller had you hook, line and sinker.  

To be continued...

A O 3 | M A S T E R L I S T | N O T I F I C A T I O N S

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[jeyusoeater]

Cinematography. (This Is Cinema ~ Roman’s Part)

Roman Reigns x Black Female Reader

Rating: 18+

Warning: Smut; Rough sex, p0rngraphy, oral (m&f receiving), slight spit kink, and other nausty (ikyk) thingsssss..

“Already having made an absolute masterpiece with Mr. Jey Uso, you didn’t think you’d be stepping to the so called “Tribal Chief” so soon. But he put himself next in line and you weren’t mad at it.

A/N: This has been the most requested in my inbox and I have been dying to continue this story/series for you all. Here’s the first part of this series. Thanks for the support on my last Roman fic, what a warm welcome back 🥰🥰. More coming soon, I got a lot of ideas brewing up. AND MY HUSBAND IS BACK, TURN UP BITCHHHHHH 😝😝!!

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

GIF: @jeysuso

It has been about two weeks since your last adult video dropped and it was the talk of the town. Scratch that, it’s talk of the whole world at this point. You filmed with a member of the hottest porn group there is, Mr. Jey Uso, and he most definitely rocked your world. As that video did your bank account.

The video reached 1 million views in just an hour and over the course of two weeks it was at 205 million views. Those numbers meant shopping sprees and palm trees. But, also trips to the masseuse, cause Jey did not play no games with you. He wore you out to the point where your management thought it was best to put you on an “injury reserve” list.

Yeah… it was that bad and honestly unnecessary.

But, good at the same time. Jey made you feel things you haven’t felt in a long time. What you didn’t know was a storm was brewing and headed straight for Casa Y/N.

As you stood in your kitchen making yourself some shrimp alfredo pasta with your teacup poodle, Rex, by your side being your little sous chef. The doorbell rang. Rex instantly began barking and running to the front door, trying his best to be your guard dog.

“Rex, calm your little ass down.” You yelled as turned the stove off and moved the pan of pasta to the side, wiped your hands and headed to the front door. You had no clue as to who was at the door, you weren’t expecting any company. Maybe it was a package, as your online spending habits always seem to leave your mind the second you purchased something. Or maybe fan mail, as you tend to get a lot of those from random men wanting to marry you.

“Rex back up from this door and stop all that barking please.” Rex sat quietly and tilted his head curiously to the side as you opened the huge door. You were surprised to see manager, Vanessa, standing at the door with a big grin on her face. As you opened the door even more, your breath completely stopped and your heart skipped a beat. Stood next to Vanessa was a 6’ 3, tatted, tan, and muscular Samoan with the face of a Greek god.

Your mouth stood agape as you admired his innate beauty, glaring at you with that smirk… that smirk that possessed all the women he’d ever worked with. Made them shrivel in their panties, made them wet for days, and made them absolutely numb to his body and his body only.

Roman Motherfuckin’ Reigns.

The leader of this adult film group aka “The Bloodline”, stood at your front door, with your manager. You couldn’t believe it!! Roman only had 8 videos up… 8 videos!! He’s only ever worked with 5 women in his entire pornstar career and they were quite the professionals. But now he stands at your door, which you could only guess what that means.

“Earth to Y/N, yoohoo. Y/N!!” You snapped back into reality as Vanessa began clapping her hands in your face. “Vanessa, where I’m from clapping your hands in someone’s face means you wanna fight. So, let’s not do that again. Got it?!” Vanessa looked taken aback as Roman just laughed with that dreamy chuckle of his.

“She is really feisty Nessa, just like you said, I like that.. a lot.” Roman whispered that last part into your ear so sensually that it made you want to take your phone and make this tape right here at the front door. But you remained professional as you knew Roman didn’t mess with little fan girls. He only worked with confident women who are professional and know what they want out of him.

And boy oh boy, you knew exactly what you wanted from him.

“Well let’s not waste any time with the long introductions. Y/N, Roman. Roman, Y/N. Shake hands and let’s get this party started.” Vanessa waltzed her way right into your home and picking up Rex in the process as she then said, “Ooo, is that alfredo I smell girl?!” You both watched as Nessa helped herself into the kitchen to feast on the meal you prepared for yourself.

“Your manager is really something, but she’s definitely a smart one and knows what she’s doing with you.” You faced Roman as you just gazed into his chocolate brown eyes as he did to yours. “Yeah that’s my girl. Why don’t you come in and have a seat?!” Roman removes your hand from the door, lets himself in and shut the door behind him. He then immediately picks you up and flings you over his shoulder. You gasped and begin giggling uncontrollably.

He gives a firm smack to your ass and heads his way into the kitchen.

“Oh, imma have fun with you baby.”

You bit your lip as you let Roman navigate his way through your home by following the smell of the pasta which would lead to where Vanessa stood chowing down per usual.

“Okay Groot, put my girl down. She’s on the injury reserve list and I can’t afford to have her down for another week.” You mentally curse out Nessa for mentioning this stupid injury reserve thing in front of Roman. He sets you down and takes a seat on the barstool across from Vanessa on the kitchen island.

“How did you get injured?!” He stares at you with curiosity in his eyes as you weren’t bandaged up, nor needing any sort of crutches or wheelchair. You played with your nails as you looked around the room trying to avoid eye contact with him. “Welllll… it’s kind of a long story. See what-.”

“Oh my god, she’s taking too long. Her last porno with your cousin, Jey. Messed. Her. Up. She’s been done up ever since.” Roman’s eyes moved from Vanessa’s to yours. You shut them not even daring to look back at him.

“Oh please, when I’m done with her she’ll be on that list for months. Why do you think I’ve only worked with 5 women my whole career?! Cause I broke em’ down, claiming they could take it but always proved me wrong. With you though… I know it’ll be different.”

Roman said that as he stood behind you massaging your ass with one hand and massaging your neck with the other. Roman’s massive hand travels from the back of your neck to the front of it as he choked you out. His hand on your lower half took the same route to your front, rubbing your pussy through your shorts. His pillow soft lips laid kisses all over your face, but grazing your lips every time you thought he was gonna go in for a kiss.

You completely crumbled. Cupping your entire clothed mound in his hand, massaging and torturing you. Making you squirm for his viewing pleasure. You lose your breath and awareness of your surroundings as he begins rubbing you out harder and enforcing a rougher choke around your neck.

“Ummmm, get your hands off my girl. You ain’t sign this contract yet.” Vanessa said with a mouthful of pasta, throwing the contract down in front of you both.

“Yeah you’re right. Can’t fuck the shit out of her without this little deal we curated.” Roman released you from the shackles of his hands and you felt like you could finally breathe again.

“Wait, what deal?!” You stared at your manager trying to regain your breath, as she continued to slurp down the pasta.

“Wellll… you see, what had happened wasss.” You looked at Vanessa in utter disbelief as she was out her making “deals” without your approval.

“Ah she’s taking too long.” Roman began to speak on Vanessa’s behalf. “We have curated a little deal princess, where we will have a committed “porn” relationship. Basically committing to film with each other, and each other only for a period of time. But as of right now, we’re doing a little tester. Seeing if we have the chemistry before we go lighting any sparks here.”

You stood giggling not minding the sound of this little “deal”. But you can’t help but notice that Roman’s come flocking after your tape with Jey and you’ve heard about the slight competition between the both of them.

“Okayyyy, and why now?! Is it because I filmed with your little cousin and you’re nervous he’s doing bigger numbers and has bigger things than you honey?!” You continued your uncontrollable giggles as you looked to Vanessa who stopped in her tracks.

Roman shut his eyes and let out a deep sigh. Those words deeply triggered him. Him and Jey were always in competition with one another. Since they were in little league football to now slanging that dick for all of America to see. Despite Jey being a twin, they were more of an inseparable duo rather than frenemies.

Of course Roman had immense amounts of love for his family, he helped bring them into the industry and helped change all of their lives for the better. But he was a firm believer of not letting the people you allowed in to over throw you. He stood at the Head of the Table and he wasn’t gonna allow little cousin Jey to take that from him.

“Vanessa… call the camera crew.”

——————————————————————————

You didn’t even sign the contract and a camera crew was at your home setting up for what you could only assume was gonna be an absolute movie.

Roman didn’t speak to you after asking Nessa to invite the camera crew over. He must’ve not liked to hear you compare him to Jey, but it was all harmless fun… well to you at least.

You find Roman and Nessa in your bedroom with the camera crew setting up angles all around your bed. You slowly walked up from behind your bedroom door and Roman and Nessa looked up towards you. “Well don’t you look all cutesy girl. I haven’t seen you this dressed up since your first ever video..”

You visibly cringed at Nessa constant embarrassment of you as Roman chuckled his life away. “At least she’s all dressed up for a good reason. A great one at that." You dressed in your best lingerie. Red, tight, and riddled with lace.

Just how you liked it and assuming that’s how Roman liked it as well by the way he was eyeing you down.

“How about we get started, why don’t we?!” Roman sat on your Queen sized bed and waited patiently for you sit next to him. You slowly walked to the bed, as if you were unfamiliar with it. “This is your house, your bed sweetheart. Why you being all shy?! I don’t bite, well I might not bite right now.”

You blush and take a seat next to Roman on your bed. You look at Roman as he tells the main camera man where to stand.

“Sooo… there’s no game plan?! Just jumping straight into it?!” Most stars you’ve worked with have a certain setup for how their videos began and Roman seemingly didn’t have one. Most of his films sort of jumped straight into the last minutes of foreplay, then cut right to the sex.

“Sweetheart, this is my show and I’m running it. Just follow my lead and follow like a good girl, alright?!” Roman’s deep voice put you into a trance and hearing him call you a good girl nearly made you drool.

“Oh-okay.”

Roman pats my thigh and smiles at me.

“Good girl.”

He then signals the cameraman, which prompted him to start a countdown.

“In 5…

4…

3…

2…

1…”

He signals his finger towards us meaning that the camera is rolling. Staring directly into the lens, you were completely frozen. Your nerves began to get the best of you and those jitters you had when you first became an adult film star all came back.

You could feel the warmth of Roman peer closer to you. He places one of his large hands on your thigh and the other on your face, making you look him dead in his eyes.

“Don’t be nervous alright. Daddy’s got you.”

Before you could respond, Roman blesses your lips with a passionate kiss. Our lips smacking together in sensual harmony. His tongue swirled on the inside of your mouth, exploring every part of it.

Then the kiss became even slower. Your tongues fighting in a brute of passion, trying to figure out who asserted the most dominance. And of course… the Head of the Table won.

He moves from his spot next to you on the bed and stands in front of at the edge of the bed. He begins to massage your taut breasts through your lingerie, before removing it completely.

“Fuck baby, you look amazing.”

His comment only added to your nervousness, but his heavenly kiss brought you back to down to Earth.

He catches you by surprise as he yanks your hips to the edge of the bed and rips your soaked panties clean off. He spread your legs wide causing the glory of wetness to be revealed to him and the camera.

“You real wet huh mama?! Want Daddy to eat you out??”

You could only nod as his breath nearing your pussy could only cause you to shiver. He smirks and lowers his head down into your heat.

He begins eats you out messily, tossing your knees over his shoulders, and circling your clit until you soak his beard. He then sucked on each individual fold, licking and slurping covering it in saliva. You became a whimpering mess as he shook his head ferociously against your clit, with eyes rolling back, hands tangled in his luxurious hair and legs shaking and closing around his head.

“I’m gonna cum Dadddyyyyy.”

“Let it go mama.”

Your legs enclosed Roman’s head as they shook with maximum strength. Your back arched off the bed and Roman’s fingers gripped your thighs harshly, definitely leaving marks later.

You pant heavily, trying to regain your breath from the insane climax Roman just gave you. Without wasting anytime, he took his tank top off as well as his sweatpants and boxers.

His body a legit masterpiece. Sculpted by the gods.

Shocking you once again, he grasps the back of your knees, forcing them together and then crushing them into your tits. The head of his cock glides against your cunt, still convulsing from the feeling of that climax. 

Roman slams into you, not giving you any time to adjust. He just pounds you into the mattress. The room was filled with sounds, only sounds. The grunts and the wet slaps of his pelvis smacking against yours over and over again with his hand between your legs, rubbing your wet cunt and the place where it stretched around him.

“You like that mama?!”

“You feel it in your stomach, huh?!”

“Daddy’s going in real deep huh?!”

Your entire bed shook, the headboard slammed into the wall to the point where you believed the drywall began to crumble and holes will most definitely appear later on. You begin taking mental notes to tell Vanessa to send Roman a bill for your damaged wall.

His moans made you even wetter than you were before. It almost sounded like he was whimpering over your pussy.

Was the big man really whimpering over how good your pussy is?!

Before you could even relish in the sounds of his moans more, you legs shook once again as you felt your climax approaching and it was approaching fast.

Roman caught on to your short gasps and convulsing legs, he then began beating up your sweet cunt. Throwing your knees to the side of your head, making them touch your silk sheets. Pounding into you harshly, not missing a beat until you squirted all over his lower half and the sheets underneath you.

“Oh my goodness.” You let out an exasperated laugh as you closed your legs together to staph off that feeling. You winced as Roman let out a sharp smack to your ass. You opened your eyes as you watched him pleasure himself in front of you.

“Come suck this dick mama.”

Say no more.

You followed as Roman laid down and you took the position in between his legs, sniper style.

You grabbed at his flesh pole and it felt so hot and heavy in your hands. He most certainly was big. Like BIG. Although you didn’t want to compare lengths, Roman was massive compared to his cousin Jey. Maybe he liked to call him lil cuz for a reason.

“Whatchu you keep staring at?! Get to it princess.”

You innocently brought your mouth down and sucked the head. Moaning with his cock in your mouth and hands massaging at this balls. You slobbered down his length, bobbing your up and down head slowly. You peer your eyes up as you listened to the moaning and groaning Roman made from the moment you made contact with his member. His legs shook as you continued the pleasure.

His eyes rolled back and he grabbed the back of your head, bobbing your head up and down. Your eyes watered and you gagged as he stalled his hips in your mouth.

His cum coated the entirety of your throat. He groaned as you swallowed his cum while he was still in your mouth. His strong arms brought you up as he gave you a long kiss. Intaking all his cum and yours from earlier in each other’s mouths. A string of saliva hung from your lips to his. You both smile at each other, looking each other in the eyes.

“And… CUT!!”

You slightly jumped as you completely forgot about the tape you guys were filming. “That was absolutely perfect guys. Roman, Y/N… you both got a money maker on your hands right here.”

The camera crew began to clean up and take down the lights and mics. Roman tried to help you up off the bed, but you were so weak in the knees you couldn’t stand.

“I think we’ll keep on that list sweetie.”

You rolled your eyes at his comment and he began to chuckle. “Whatever Roman, just let me sit for a little.”

He smiled at you once more before he lowered himself to your ear. “Definitely better than Lil’ Jey huh?!”

This man is a problemmmm…

A good one though.

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THE END.

HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED 💕💕!! Probably my fave Roman fic to date!!

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[neeeooon]

Hellooo, I really adore your writing so much, I’m not sure if you’ve done this before and

I’m sorry if it’s a bit of a hassle but I’d like to request (headcannons of?) the blue lock boys dating some sort of a clinically depressed reader, (or just a generally sad reader) most preferably the itoshi brothers, isagi and kaiser but really, I wont mind if you write about other characters!

if you can’t or don’t want to its really alright, have a great day!

ofc 🤍 my inbox is always open if you need

i got another ask similar to this and will add those characters here since most were the same

when you’re depressed

bf bllk x gn!reader. contains themes that may be triggering. angst with a lot of comfort <3 ooc

itoshi sae

-> sae isn’t the biggest guy, so when you steal his sweaters, they usually fit decently well. when sae comes home after a business trip to find you swimming in one of his favorites, he can’t help but be concerned

-> “hey. what did you eat while i was gone? try any new recipes?” he tries to be as casual as possible, but you simply hum. “sure, i guess.” your reluctance to answer properly makes his heart beat harder with anxiety

-> “like what?” “why are you asking me all of a sudden?” “just curious. wanna make something new for dinner.” “i’m not hungry.” he frowns at the indignation in your voice

-> he thinks for a moment before heading into the kitchen. “what if i cook?” “i said—“ “i know. but you might change your mind and want to eat later.” you grumble something under your breath but don’t fight him

-> sae doesn’t tell you that he took time off of work for the rest of the month, feigning that the entire team was given vacation time. it’s not that he doesn’t trust you to be on your own, he can tell how lonely you get by yourself

-> after a week of being home, sae sees you smile for the first time since his business trip. he tries not to make a big deal out of it; he knows you’ll talk to him when you’re ready

itoshi rin

-> you stop coming to his games, and rin hates that that’s what it takes for him to finally realize something’s off with you

-> he starts paying more attention to you, realizing how you’re just not… you. your energy is constantly depleted, your words curt, your expression blank and eyes tired

-> “y/n,” he tries one day, catching you as you flip mindlessly through a book you’re barely paying attention to. “is everything okay with you?”

-> you wanted to blow him off and pretend everything is fine, but when you see the genuine concern in his teal eyes, tears start dripping uncontrollably. you feel hollow as rin sits by your side, frantically trying to wipe the wetness away

-> “i’m not good for you.” “stop talking.” “i’m not good. you’ll worry, and it’ll affect your playing. i’m not good. you should do better.”

-> rin’s hands still on your face, forcing you to meet his sharp gaze. “stop. you’re good, don’t worry about me. there isn’t ‘better’, y/n, i just want you to feel better. that’s all.”

-> you don’t argue. you couldn’t even if you wanted to, as rin tugs you forward and into his chest, hand gently pressing your face into his shoulder for you to cry

isagi yoichi

-> you and isagi don’t have any college classes together, so you often leave at different times. he didn’t realize how much class you were missing until one of your friends cornered him demanding proof of life from you

-> “babe, i thought your friend was gonna murder me on my way here.” “hm. who?” “the one who always wears one of those scary claw clips..” “oh. lol. tell her i’m fine.”

-> that confuses him. “tell her yourself in your class tomorrow..?” “oh, right. yeah, i’ll tell her.” “… y/n?” “hm?” “how much class have you skipped recently?”

-> your lack of reply makes his chest ache a bit. “y/n? are you okay?” “fine.” “do you want to leave together tomorrow? i need to meet with some advisors, anyway.” “no, i’ll be fine here.”

-> isagi isn’t stupid, it’s clear that something’s wrong, but he doesn’t know the best way to approach this without freaking you out. after much mental debate, he sits next to you after class one day and lays out a confirmation for an advising meeting he made for you

-> “yoichi, wh—“ “if it’s all too much right now, too overwhelming, you still have time to drop without consequences. forcing yourself isn’t good for you, y/n.”

-> you don’t remember crying and flinch when isagi wipes your tears away. “i’ll help you any way i can, okay?” “i don’t want to be a burden…” “it’s not being a burden when i’m offering my help. i want to help. i want to see you being yourself again. let me.” “okay… we can go together?” “i wouldn’t miss it.”

michael kaiser

-> it used to be that you’d always text kaiser after your lectures ended so you could meet up for lunch. now he’s the one asking you to hang out, and your replies are either rejections or leaving him on delivered for hours

-> when he confronts you, you snap at him. “i’m just busy, okay? leave me alone!” you don’t mean it, he knows that, but it still triggers something in him to see you give in so easily to anger like that

-> you’re like an empty shell after that, no matter how many times he attempt to make conversation with you. you’re back to your one-word replies, and he doesn’t last long before finally snapping, too

-> “i can’t save you, y/n. i don’t know how. i’m not leaving, i’m not going anywhere, but the only one who can save you is yourself.” it wasn’t what you wanted to hear, but it was what you needed. you didn’t want kaiser to save you, but even if you did, you knew helping you would only hurt him

-> so you hug yourself until he steps forward and replaces your arms with his. “i don’t know what to do. how to help you. tell me what to do and i’ll do it.”

-> he comes to therapy with you for moral support, keeping a hand on you thigh on rubbing circles along your knuckles. “thank you,” you tell him on the way home, and he kisses the back of your hand. “i just want you to be okay.”

bachira meguru

-> bachira isn’t used to seeing you without your smile. his friends tease that you’re a sunshine couple, since you’re always laughing and having so much fun together

-> but no days turn into weeks, and suddenly bachira can’t remember the last time you looked happy

-> “honey?” “…” “you know you can talk to me, right? if you wanted to?” you didn’t want to talk, you wanted to run into his arms and fall apart. but instead you turned away from him, refusing to so much as meet his eyes

-> bachira isn’t deterred and continues trying to make you smile. one evening he hears you sniffle, and before he can ask, you throw yourself into his arms and cry. “i’m sad. i’m so sad all the time, and i don’t know how to feel better.”

-> he just holds you tight, keeping you together to the best of his abilities. “we’ll get through this,” he smiles into your hair. “i won’t go anywhere. promise!”

nagi seishiro

-> he’s been there, and since he wasn’t able to pull himself from that state on his own, he doesn’t know how to help you. it hurts

-> you’ve been laying motionless in bed for hours when nagi finally arrives to check on you. he doesn’t say anything before crawling beneath the covers and burying his face between your shoulder blades. they’re thinner than they were the last time he visited you

-> “this isn’t helping.” “i know.” “i don’t feel anything.” “i know.” you’re quiet for a moment, and your voice breaks when you say “nagi…” he places a ghost of a kiss against your back. “i know.”

-> you agree to see someone after sobbing in his arms for hours. it isn’t perfect, and it doesn’t always help, but it’s better than nothing

-> though nagi claims he’s no help to you, having him around lifts your spirits. he makes you feel safe and loved, even when he’s killing you in prop hunt. you can tell he notices your shift, because he’ll come up with more excuses than usual to spend time with you

-> “you’re not slick, you know.” “i know.” “you must love me a lot to ditch reo for me.” “i know. i do.” “.. i love you a lot, too.”

[hoonieyun]

a lovesick girl's guide to heartbreak

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ an anthology series following the chaos that surrounds the day of love

heeseung ₊ jongseong ₊ jaeyun ₊ sunghoon

status: completed - febuary 3rd-13th 2025

taglist open: reply or send a message to my inbox to be added!

more under the cut

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ex!heeseung x reader hell is not the same without you... summary: you thought everything was going well 3 months after your breakup with your ex-boyfriend!heeseung until you realized that maybe you miss him more than you hated being with him

febuary 3rd

xoxo

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ best friend's bf!jay x reader breakup with your girlfriend cause i'm bored...summary: being invited to your best friend's birthday was nothing out of the ordinary, until you finally meet her boyfriend and he just seems to be the man of your dreams

febuary 7th

xoxo

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ fwb!jake x reader i start fights cause i wanna makeup...summary: although you specified with jake that you were only looking for a fwb, you just love getting a kick out of pushing his buttons. after all, as much as you like starting fights with him, you like making up after even more.

febuary 10th

xoxo

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ fuckboy!sunghoon x reader ladies and gentleman, i present to you: the ex... summary: you knew that getting with sunghoon meant playing with fire and after ignoring all of the red flags and stories you heard about him, you decided to play into his trap anyways.

febuary 13th

xoxo

copyright 2024 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved

all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned.

if you enjoyed reading this please consider reblogging and following <3

[mejaemin]

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always - jeon wonwoo

wc: 1.1k summary: you and your stress habits finally bring up the conversation about the inevitable, and remind you that wonwoo will always be with you, physically or not warnings: enlistment talk, angst, crying, hurt/comfort, nonchalant!wonwoo, this is a bit of a mess sry 😓😓 an: (for mootie @cxffecoupx 🤍) to all carats reading, we’ll be okay! i’m reopening my inbox after posting this for yall !! he’s my fav to write for, and i’m always willing to help heal your hearts 🫶🏽 another wonu fic coming shortly

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“wonwoo, baby, there’s something you need to sign for!” you call out from the front door, and he sighs, forcing himself up from the couch to take care of it. the delivery man hands him a clipboard, and he brings the heavy box to the kitchen to pry it open.

pulling a knife from the block, he carefully cuts the tape. “this is, what, the fifth box this week? and the third today?”

you nod, bouncing on your feet as you watch him open the box. sucking in a breath, you put on your most convincing voice, “yeah, it’s weird. you haven’t given any fans your address, right? who could it be?”

he shrugs, choosing silence as he pulls the mystery item out of the box. it’s some sort of stuffed animal, vacuum sealed in a plastic bag. when he pulls it out and cuts it open, it puffs up a little, looking like an extremely deformed chococat plush.

“huh.” he watches as it continues puffing up to life, looking extremely dumb. cute, but definitely a little stupid looking.

“the sender must not know you well if they keep sending you all this cutesy stuff, no?” you ask, leaning on the counter, still using a clueless voice.

“yeah..” he mumbles, fighting back the knowing smile on his lips. you guys have been together for way too long for you to think he couldn’t see through you. after a pause of silence, he speaks again. “love… could i see your phone, please?”

you stand straight, a little shocked. “um, what? why?” your hands are suddenly hovering protectively over the device, shielding it from him as it sits face down on the countertop.

“i just wanna see something.” he’s smiling, knowing his presumptions are correct, and also amused at the idea that you could be worried that he’s thinking of something else.

“um..” you back up, slowly inching away from his outstretched hand, until you’ve created enough space to book it to your bedroom.

belly flopping onto the bed, simultaneously face planting into multiple fox and cat plushies. there’s cat everything everywhere at this point. it’s almost disgusting.

wonwoo comes in behind you, hovering over your body. “you’re not hiding something, are you? just let me see it. two seconds, that’s it.” when you shake your head, he flips you over as gently as possible, uncurling your fingers from around your phone and taking it from you.

swiping it open (his face is the second option for facial recognition), he pulls up your card history, and he isn’t surprised to see multiple purchases from different brands and websites he knows sell all the unnecessary stuff he’s been receiving. he clicks the most recent one, and it takes him to the screen showing which item you bought… an extra large chococat plush.

“what’s this?” he turns the screen to you.

“um.. surprise?” you smile sheepishly, pulling a purple fox pillow into your arms, hiding everything but your eyes.

he shuts your phone off, putting it down on the sanrio themed wireless charger before laying next to you, on his side. “is there a reason why you’re buying all this stuff for me?”

it’s always been a habit of yours to start splurging when your emotions are heavy. it isn’t brought up often, or at all really, for your sake, but you know he’s enlisting. tomorrow. you haven’t brought it up once since he told you the date, but he can tell it’s affecting you. he just wants you to say it, give him a way to start the process of comforting you, without confrontation.

you sigh, looking to the side when your eyes start burning. taking a breath, one long enough to suppress your tears for at least a sentence, you start, “this is the last time i’ll be able to get you stuff.. for a while. so, i don’t know..” you trail off, pulling the sleeves of wonwoo’s sweater over your hands, covering your eyes as you start to cry.

“oh..” he pulls you into him, unsure of what to say. with your head buried in his chest, he simply strokes your hair, holding you close. this is the first time you’ve shown emotion towards the situation, as far as he knows, and you have so much to let out. he lets you, keeping your body in his arms as you sob into him.

after a bit, your tears calm down, the room silent save for occasional sniffles. wonwoo gently pulls your head away from his body, holding your face in his palms.

“i know how much this sucks for you.. believe me, it hurts me too.” he starts, a little unsure of how to comfort you. “but, just know, i’ll always be here for you. even if it’s not physically. you’ll always have me.” he sits up, pulling you into his lap, and you sit sideways atop his legs. taking his hand, you fidget with his promise ring, one that matches your own, while staying silent.

“i’ll be taking that with me, by the way.” he chuckles. “even if it’s not on my hand, to keep it in good condition, i’ll always have it on my person.”

you sniffle, body shuddering as you take a deep breath. “i’m gonna miss you so much. i don’t think i can do it, serious.” you look up at him, snotty nose and all, eyes wide to convey how truthful you’re being.

he laughs, full on laughs, and it’s enough to make you smile. “you can. because you know what? whenever i have time off, you’re the first one i’m going to. when i have my phone? i’m calling you first.”

“really? me before your game streaks?” you smile, feeling a little better about the situation.

he chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. he lingers there for a moment, absorbing your scent and truly engraving it in his brain. it isn’t the last time he’ll get to, but it is for a while, and it sure does feel like the last right now.

“of course.. that’s a very close second priority. but remember, you’re always first.”

he holds you for a little longer, and even when responsibilities start calling your names, they’re tended to while keeping as much physical contact as possible. there isn’t a moment for the next 24 hours where you are apart, except for the moment when you have no choice but to split. when you do, it’s so upsetting, but you have a million plushies resembling wonwoo to keep you company, along with the comforting idea that you’ll always be the first he messages when free.

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svt 🏷️ @coquettejunnie @prettymoles