#not sure where it was it was a bedroom maybe his

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch5. child's play

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, and have been taking care of your sick mother ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance plan in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity, mentions of cigarettes, depression/anxiety; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 5/x

ᰔ words. 4.8k

a/n. helloo my ihm friends! long time no see. hope you're all doing well and thank you so much to everyone who sent me kind messages about the whole ihm gojo ex wife thing haha. i really appreciate it :) i feel more confident about my writing decisions now, and that's all thanks to you guys! anyways, i will be posting shorter chapters for ihm going forward, so sorry if some chapters have slightly abrupt endings or stuff like that. i guess my goal is to post shorter chapters but more frequently! we'll see how it works out. anyways, hope you enjoy this chapter and see you at the bottom!!

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 :: ch6 (pending)

Ever since admitting your mother into hospice, things have been calmer inside your mind. After passing the initial wave of agony that came with no longer hearing her voice down the hall or seeing her silhouette in her bedroom as you walked past it, you realized that…a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. No longer setting alarms at the height of every other hour to remind your mother to take her medication, no longer viewing every interaction you had with her as some form of study you needed to jot down in a binder for her neurologist’s records, and no longer driving her to all of her chemotherapy appointments, only to leave them feeling like you purposefully just took your mother to a place where they sucked all the life out of her in exchange for the slim promise of giving it all back to her someday.

Maybe it was evident in the way your shoulders felt less tense as you rolled them back, tilting your neck to the side and no longer feeling the painful strain that tugs a wince onto your face. The other day, you caught yourself humming a song as you drove to work. Your skin, usually feeling cracked and dry from stress and exhaustion, now has a slight plumpness to it like before. A more youthful glow, like the version of yourself you were before your mother became sick. The version of you that so quickly deteriorated, and one you didn’t even know still existed somewhere within you. 

There has also been time for hobbies. Rarest of occasions, you find yourself sauteing some yellow and white peaches in a saucepan over medium heat in Gojo’s kitchen, humming that song once again that’s been stuck in your head. The sundress you’re wearing matches the pink of the syrup that pools at the bottom of the pan, and you feel like you’re living your cottage core dreams in this brief moment of reprieve you’ve allowed yourself to fall into.

The sound of slippers tapping down onto the hardwood floor startles you out of your gleeful trance, and you turn your neck to the right to see a pajama-clad messy-haired Gojo shuffling his feet across the open area into the kitchen with a dark black mug in his hand.

“Why aren’t you dressed??” you ask him in a panic.

“I’ll get dressed later,” he tells you dismissively as he grabs the glass pitcher of coffee from where the coffee machine was nestled up against one of the counter corners.

“You’re stressing me out. Your mom told us to be there in two hours,” you say, putting your hands on your hips in disapproval as you hear the sizzle of the peaches in the saucepan. 

He entirely ignores you, choosing to instead drag his gaze down the form of your body. “Woooow, twice this month I get to see you in a cute dress,” he comments, pouring coffee into his mug but his eyes are still on you, “lucky me.”

“Oh Shut. Up,” you sneer at him with a harsh roll of your eyes, “your fake flattery might work on the lonely middle-aged women you seduce to make a living, but it won’t work on me.”

His shoulders push back before he slumps them slightly, his brow lifting with confusion. “It’s not fake though? I mean it. You look really nice right now.”

You point an accusatory sugar-syrup coated wooden spatula at him. “You’ve just been conditioned by the patriarchy to get a boner at the sight of a woman in a kitchen.”

“What–...no–...why do you always have to say stuff like that whenever I compliment you? Can’t you just accept it?”

You cross your arms over your chest. “I refuse to be flattered by an insolent man like you.”

He sighs, setting his coffee mug down on the counter, and you watch the way the fringe of his hair hangs over his forehead as he gazes into the contents, swirling it around with a loose grip on the handle. “Is this how it’s going to be everyday? I try to be nice, and you–...well, you know, are you.”

“Well who else should I be?”

His eyes lift up to meet yours, the slightest of a cheeky grin on his face as his eyes wander down the form of you again. “I don’t know. Someone a little…softer? Like, you’ve got this really pretty dress on, and then you’re telling me off about patriarchy-induced boners. It’s a little, uh, contradictory?”

You gasp. “You’re trying to control me. I knew it. You are poisoned by the patriarchy.”

“What?”

Your eyes narrow at him. “You have this image of a perfect and cute little wife, who’s gonna wear pretty dresses all the time, and bake stuff in the kitchen, and get all blushy when you tell her she looks beautiful, and you expect her to have this soft little personality that never argues with you or disagrees with you…ALL BECAUSE OF THE PATRIARCHY!!!”

“...I–...Okay, you’ve lost me.”

You let out a hmph! noise. “Can’t even discern his own brainwashing. Sad.”

“All of this just because I tried to tell you that you look nice?”

“I know what your ulterior motives are, you creep.”

His eyes spark a little at that, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a cheeky grin as he sets the coffee mug down onto the marble counter and he straightens his spine. You blink, watching with confusion as he crosses the distance between the two of you, to where you’re taking a small few steps backwards until your lower back presses against the edge of the island countertop. He cages you into the surface with his frame, followed by the palms of his hands sliding over the marble on both sides of you, and you feel his forearms press against the curve of your waist as he traps you in with no way out.

“S-Satoru,” you stutter, looking up at him with wide eyes, “what are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” he says, his voice deeper with a nonchalance that has you shiver, his gaze dropping to your lips when you part them slightly.

“T-The patriar–” you squeak out, but he suddenly dips his head down to kiss you.

Your breath hitches in your throat, eyes immediately closing when he moves his lips against yours, one of his strong arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer to him and your hesitation is something that only lasts a brief second before you find yourself kissing him back. Some noise leaves his throat, deep and raw and sounding pleasantly surprised as he captures your lips more fervidly now, his hands smoothing down to hold your hips and his teeth slightly nip at your bottom lip. 

You grab a fistful of his shirt, unsure of whether you want to pull him closer to you or push him away, but the moan that you mumble against his lips only makes his grip on your hips even stronger, fingers digging into the softness through the thin fabric of your dress. 

The oven suddenly starts beeping, startling you and you pull away from the kiss with a gasp, eyes rounded as you look up at him, but his are lidded and dilated as his gaze remains glued to your lips. 

With a heaving chest, you try to push him away by a weak fist to his sternum but he’s unrelenting.

“You taste sweet,” he says, like some comment he noted in his head but accidentally voiced out loud.

“I–...” you inhale sharply, “I just ate three macerated peaches.”

“Uh-huh,” he barely acknowledges before leaning in to get another taste, but you push him away harsher this time.

His hands let go of your hips entirely, finally breaking out of that kiss-induced trance he was in, but he still remains close to you in proximity, so much so to where you can feel the heat from his body. It’s comforting almost, radiating through the soft cotton of his long sleeve shirt, and you find yourself subconsciously leaning towards him before you snap out of it too, and rock your weight back against the island countertop.

You cross your arms over your chest, hoping the flush to your cheeks isn’t showing. “Oh okay so we just casually kiss now?”

He shoves his hands into his plaid pajama pant pockets, leaning away from you slightly. “For as long as I can get away with it, yeah.”

“You are breaking the rules.”

“You never said no kissing.”

“I said no touching.”

“Ehhh kissing isn’t really touching, though, is it?”

“You sound stupid.”

“I always sound stupid to you.”

The oven starts beeping again, and you realize it’s long been preheated to the setting you had placed earlier. You slip away from him with haste, feeling his gaze on you as you press a button on the oven to turn the alarm off, and you stare at the handle for a moment or two to calm the beating of your heart down. 

Your eyes catch sight of something on the side of the fridge. A little magnet made of rubber that has the word London on it as well as the design of the Westminster Cathedral with golden accents. You recall that Gojo went on a trip to London recently, and that he didn’t bring you back any souvenirs from there like he did for your other neighbors. And you want to pretend, you want to shove it down, that incessantly childish feeling that wonders why he didn’t bring you anything back. You want to continue to pretend like it doesn’t hurt your feelings. Something so miniscule and small. But you–...well, you can’t.

You spin around to face him. “Do you hate me?” you bluntly ask.

He blinks at you. “Huh?”

“Do you, what, I don’t know, think I’m annoying or something?”

He shrugs with his hands still in his pockets. “I mean, yeah, I do think you’re annoying sometimes. But in a silly way. Like we’re just pals horsin’ around, y’know?”

You snarl at him, putting your hands on your hips and narrowing your gaze until he’s hardly even visible anymore. “No. I actually find you annoying. Like, wanna-run-you-over-with-a-bus annoying. You just have horrendous social awareness and think that everyone loves you.”

“You actually don’t like me?” he asks, like he can’t even believe that someone wouldn’t.

“Yes,” you say, “now get out of my way.” You make an attempt to push past him, purposefully knocking your shoulder into him to assert dominance but he is unfortunately much bigger than you and so all it does is make you stumble ungracefully from the recoil.

He quickly grabs your arm to steady you, and you glare up at him before yanking yourself away and then step backwards until your back hits the fridge.

He studies your demeanor for a second before taking a deep inhale, and then lets it all go in a heaving sigh. “What do I have to do to get you to lighten up a bit?” he asks.

“You really want to know?” you sneer at him.

“Yes,” he says with a slight hint of frustration in his tone.

You cross your arms. “Pay for the fucking fence.”

He blinks at you, confusion replacing whatever frustration was previously decorating his tone. “What?”

“The fence,” you reiterate with a step forwards towards him, “the one I built six months ago. The one where you laughed in my face when I told you to help pay for it.”

He leans forward. “Yeah. Because I never wanted that fence built. Like I said, it fucked up the roots on my avocado tree. You should’ve asked me before building it. In fact, it’s illegal to build a fence without joint consent of both neighboring property owne–”

“Oh my god, okay, see? This is why I can’t stand you,” you snarl at him and make another move to get past him but he easily steps in front of you to keep you from going anywhere.

With a sigh, he relents. “Fine, I’ll pay for the fence.”

You try to keep the twitching muscles of your face still as you resolutely stare up at him, pressing your lips into a thin line. Through a strained tone, you say, “No. I don’t want you to pay for it anymore.”

He lifts a brow, utterly bewildered at this point. “Huh?”

“Now it just feels like pity. And I don’t want your pity money.”

“Two seconds ago, you did.”

“Yeah, well, whatever. That was two seconds ago.”

“So…let me get this straight, you don’t want me to pitch in?”

“No. I want you to have wanted to pitch in SIX MONTHS AGO.”

“Okay but what the fuck am I supposed to do about that now?”

“NOTHING!!!” you finally snap at him, the shrill to your voice startling him slightly to where you see his shoulders jump, and his eyes are now rounded blue as he looks at you. “There’s nothing you can do about it, there’s nothing you can do to get me to ‘lighten up’ or ‘act softer’ or whatever the fuck kind of damage control you aim to achieve with me due to your pestering incessant need to be liked by every fucking person you come across. So just deal with the fact that I hate you and let me do it in peace.”

He’s silent for what feels like a long time as he blinks at you, his bottom lip pushing up slightly in a way that suggests he’s almost impressed by your little outburst, then he takes a step forward, and in that one large stride, he’s closed any distance between the two of you. Your back is up against the frigid steel of the fridge, your heels tucked under the warm rubber at the foot of it, and you’re looking up at Gojo as he towers over you, his hands still annoyingly and relaxedly shoved into his pockets.

“Do you think it’s gonna be a problem that I think you’re kinda hot when you’re mad?” he asks you.

A small puff of air leaves your lips, like you just can’t believe the audacity, but also having him this close to you suddenly made it a little harder to breathe. “C–...Can you just be fucking serious for one second?”

His head dips down, the fringe of his hair tickling your forehead, tip of his nose slightly brushing against yours, but his gaze never falls to your lips. “You think I’m not being stupid fuckin’ serious when I say that you’re hot?”

“S–” your breath hitches in your throat, and his gaze finally falls to the lick you pass over your lips, “Satoru–”

Like God himself answered to your (cognitively dissonant) prayers, the bell rings, and Gojo leans himself away from you, straightening his spine so he can glance over his shoulder towards the door, a slight look of irritation on his face through the furrow of his brow.

You blink up at him. “A–...Are you expecting someone?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “No. Don’t think so.” He sighs before shuffling around the kitchen island and across the dining hall towards the entryway of the house, and you peer at the sight from across the hall.

When he opens the door, you see Sana standing outside, dressed in mom jeans and a t-shirt with her black Coach purse slung around her shoulder, arms crossed, and you barely register the fact that she looks pissed.

“Sana?” Gojo says, “what’s up.”

She entirely ignores him when she catches sight of you, pushing right past him and into the family room that you were currently finding solace in.

“You,” she points at you, storming right up to your personal space, “what the hell did you say to Juno when you were babysitting her?!”

“H-Huh??” you squeak out, taking a step backwards. “What are you talking about?”

“You told her to fight kids at school?!” she snarls at you, and your eyes widen.

“What?” you say, your face twisting with confusion, “I–...I never said that. I just said that she should stand up for herself if she needs to.”

Sana inhales deeply with rage, leaning back and jutting her hip out as she crosses her arms again. “Yeah, well, I had to pick her up early from school today because the principal called and told me she shoved a little girl on the playground during recess, and now she’s facing suspension.”

Gojo approaches suddenly from your periphery, standing in front of you as he faces Sana. You stand on your tiptoes to peer at her over his shoulder. “What? Why would Juno do something like that?

You hear Sana start to tap her foot impatiently against the hardwood floor, and then she turns her head away from Gojo as a slight hmph! noise leaves her throat. “The why is irrelevant.”

You poke your head out from behind Gojo and glare at her, but then Gojo turns around suddenly to look at you.

“y/n,” he says, “what’s going on?”

“I–” you start, glancing at Sana again who now has a solemn look on her face with pursed lips. You glance back at Gojo, who’s looking at you with confusion and anticipation. A heat spreads down your neck from the attention of the both of them on you, and you’re not sure what the smart thing to say is, so you figure you’ll just tell the truth as it is. “...I just didn’t want her getting bullied and thinking she can’t stick up for herself.”

At that, you see Gojo’s shoulders stiffen. “Bullied?” he repeats after you, then quickly turns towards Sana, “what does she mean, bullied? Juno’s getting bullied at school?”

Sana faces him full-on, raising a stern pointed finger between the two of them “No. Satoru. Stop. You always do this. This has nothing to do with you, so don’t even start. It’s not a big deal, let’s not make it one.”

“The fuck do you mean it’s not a big deal? She’s getting bullied at school, and you want her to just suck it up?” he asks, venom dripping from his tone. 

“It’s for her benefit!” Sana exclaims. “Jun and I have spent months trying to get her into this school! We don’t want her getting kicked out.”

“Y’know, I’m–” you stutter, “I’m gonna–...I’m just gonna go upstairs,” you say, “this seems like a family matter. I think you guys should probably just settle this on your ow–”

“No,” Gojo says, pointing to the couch that you were standing in front of, “sit down.”

You sit.

Gojo turns to face Sana again, and although you can’t see his face, you imagine he’s pissed off from the way Sana’s shoulders drop slightly and her sharp expression is cut into a more sheepish one.

“Who cares if Juno is suspended for sticking up for herself? It’s the teachers’ fault for not making sure she’s safe,” he says.

“Shoving other kids is not the solution.”

“Well if you fuck around, then you find out. Kids are too soft these days.”

“This is not the 90s, Satoru.”

You watch the back and forth between the two of them for the better part of an entire minute, feeling uneasy in the hostile environment of the room, but there’s a sense of underlying familiarity between the two, one that is recognizable amongst family. And you feel rather foreign, but then remember that, technically speaking, now that you’re married to Gojo, this is your family too.

Amongst the arguing of the adults, none of you noticed that Juno had gotten out of the car in the driveway and was now standing in the doorframe of the front entrance. She looks scared and guilty, fidgeting with her fingers in front of her, and you notice her scrapes and bruises that you tended to last week were now mostly healed. 

Gojo catches sight of her, and you see his shoulders relax. “Juno, c’mere.”

With the permission, she instantly runs towards him and into his arms from where he was crouched down to the floor in order to welcome her, and then she starts sobbing.

“I’m–hic,” she cries, “I’m so–hic–I’m so sowwyyy Uncle Toru…I’m–hic–I’m sorry mommyyyy.” 

You see Sana sigh and she makes a move to brush Juno’s tear-dampened hair out of her face when Gojo pulls her away from his shoulder by a delicate hold of her bony little shoulders.

“Juno. Listen. If people are being mean to you, then you do exactly as your auntie y/n said. You stand up for yourself. And if that doesn’t work, then you cuss at them and threaten to shove their faces into the dirt until they run away with their tails between their legs. Do you understand me?” Gojo tells her.

Sana gives you a pointed look.

“Oh, I–” you put your hands up in front of you, “I didn’t say any of that last part.”

“Do you understand me?” Gojo repeats again, and Juno nods her head slowly before she falls back into him and soaks his shirt with tears. “I’m soowwwwwyyyyyy.”

Gojo pats her back a few times to comfort her, and your heart breaks for the little girl. It’s bad enough to be bullied at school, but then to be reprimanded by your mother the one time you stand up for yourself…you can imagine how emotionally exhausting that would be for a five-year-old. 

Juno sniffles, rubbing her snot all over the cotton of Gojo’s shirt, and then pulls her face away to rub at her eye with a weakly closed fist. “I–hic–I just…I just wanted him to feel–hic–the same hurt.”

“Huh? Who?” Gojo asks.

“The boy,” Juno says, “the one that shoved me today.”

“It was a boy?!?!?!” Gojo yells. “Alright. That’s it. I’m grabbing my bat.”

“Satoru.” Sana deadpans.

Sana and Gojo continue to bicker about the ethics of threatening five-year-old boys with baseball bats, going back and forth about how Gojo wasn’t actually going to do anything but just wanted to instill fear (he’s lying), while Sana isn’t exactly sold on a single pacifist thing that he says, and you sigh, because you realize you’ve become invested in one of, what you feel like will become many, of their family quarrels.

Juno sneaks around Gojo’s legs and comes up to you while the arguing is taking place in the background, and she gently taps your knee as you’re seated on the couch. “Auntie y/n,” she whispers.

You rub an eye crustie from her face and then hold her hand in yours. “Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“Mm? For what?”

She smiles at you, her cheeks pink and flush from crying but rounded now in glee. “My mommy and daddy spoke a lot today at home for first time in long time because of me. Because I listen’ded to you. Thank you.”

Your eyes narrow. “What do you mean by that, sweetheart?”

Why wouldn’t Sana and Jun be on normal talking terms? What does Juno mean that it’s been a long time? What exactly was going on at home?

“Juno,” Sana’s voice interrupts your thoughts, her arms crossed across her chest, “c’mon. Let’s go.” She points a stern finger at Gojo. “Seriously. I mean it. No baseball bats or rodent traps involved. I’ll talk to the teachers and sort something out.” She glances at you, that strict look on her face now dissolving into one of pure exhaustion. One you can imagine only a mother can face. “See you later at dinner, you two.”

Juno runs up to her mom and grabs onto her outreached hand, and you see Gojo ruffle her hair as she walks past him, her giggles ringing in the air, and then he sees them out the door. 

The air is awkward, at least to you, the second he closes the door, and when he turns around to face you, your body stiffens up.

He leans back onto the front door, crossing his arms over his chest. “Thanks,” he says, “for telling Juno to stick up for herself.”

You blink at him. “Well. I don’t feel too great about it at the moment, to be honest.”

He sighs. “I just think that Jun and Sana are raising her to be…kinda meek. I wish they’d teach her to be more confident and take up space.”

“Mhm,” you nod. Because you agree. Little girls need to learn how to be that way at a young age, because the world is seldom very kind to them.

“Well, what you said to her is what I would’ve said to her anyways,” he says.

You roll your eyes, standing up from the couch and heading back into the kitchen to presume your work on your peach cobbler. “I never told her to shove kids’ faces into the dirt. But, uh, sure, I guess so.”

You see Gojo enter the kitchen too in your periphery, but you don’t give him any glance or look or attention. From what you can see as you stir around your macerated peaches in a Pyrex bowl, he’s leaning against the island counter about three feet away from you, his hands shoved in his pockets, and he’s watching you. A slight warmth radiates in your cheeks, but you attempt to ignore the nerves by being hypnotized by the pink syrup that pools at the bottom of the bowl.

My mommy and daddy spoke a lot today at home for first time in long time because of me. Because I listen’ded to you. Thank you.

An unsettling feeling takes over your senses. It could be the past few years you’ve spent walking on eggshells around your mother, or the way you’ve become so keen to her energy as a way of staying on top of any shift in her symptoms, any single sign of disease progression, any clue that she wasn’t getting better. Any clue that she wasn’t doing okay. And you feel a sense of dread, because that skill, you realize, has now made you aware of similar circumstances in the people around you.

Not to mention, you are a child of divorce. You know what that fear feels like.

You just want to know if Juno feels safe at home.

“Hey, um…” you start, turning slightly to finally face Gojo, your eyes hesitantly flickering up to meet his gaze, “when was the last time you saw your brother-in-law? And with Sana?”

He raises a brow at you. “I just saw them last weekend for one of Juno’s dance recitals.”

“Ah…I see,” you say. You purse your lips together. 

Right. Kids say things all the time. They believe in Santa Claus and think that blueberry pancakes are called blubbery pancakes. And they sometimes read too into things, and they sometimes read too little. Surely, things must be okay. Maybe Sana and Jun had had a little argument with some stubbornly thawing cold shoulders, a demeanor that was noticed by their child, and now things have resumed to normal. That was normal. Part of every family. “That’s good to know…” 

You turn away from Gojo to stare back down into the bowl of macerated peaches again. With a furrowed brow, you close your eyes tightly to try to shake the chilly feeling in your bones, and you feel better when you open them again. The slightly numb sensation in your hand dissipates and you have enough dexterity to mix the peaches around in the bowl.

“I wonder what news they want to share with us over dinner,” you say, to quell the awkward silence.

“Hm?” Gojo hums, and you see him turn around face the counter now, hovering over the bowl of raw crumble topping you had mixed together, prodding at it with the wooden spoon. “Oh, they’re moving.”

Your head snaps to look at him. “W-What?”

“Yeah,” he nonchalantly affirms, scooping up a spoonful of the crumble. “They wanted to up-size, and move a little closer to the school that Juno’s at. I found them a nice place about an hour from here on the outskirts of the city. They just signed the papers a couple weeks ago.” And then he shoves the spoon into his mouth.

“Oh…wow,” you say. “Okay…”

“Damn,” Gojo says with surprise laced in his tone, "this is really good.” He’s staring into the bowl in awe and then scoops up some more crumble with a spoon.

You blink at him, irritated that he’s eating all your ingredients without even asking, and before you’ve even finished your dessert. It’s like he was born to piss you off.

You walk up to him and yank the bowl away, “Gimme that.” Then you pull it into the divot of your waist possessively and glare at him. 

He sighs, and then says something out loud that you’re sure he meant to keep in his head:

“I’ll get used to it.”

.

.

.

[end of chapter 5]

a/n. it feels so strange to post such a short chapter bahaha hopefully the ending isn't too abrupt. but hope you enjoyed! i'm so sorry ab the slow burn in this series aaa but i can try to assure you that it'll all be worth it hopefully lol i'm really excited for what i have planned for this series!! alsooo sorry if there are errors or anything, i'm trying to spend less time editing since it really stalls me n leads to writer's block lol. hope to see you in the next one :) much love! - ellie

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[spatialwave]

➸ ask: "Haii! I love your writing, could I request JayvikxReader please? Maybe something fluffy, like a cozy winter morning with them? Or something smutty, like Reader and Jayce making Viktor feel good? Maybe add some angst, he feels like he is not as attractive or is a third wheel so you two make sure he knows you both love him? 🙈 Thank you!"

– ➸ pairing: jayvik x fem!reader ➸ word count: 2.1k ➸ tags: mdni! mild-nsfw, fluff, hurt/comfort, polyamory, canon-divergent a.k.a. nothing bad ever happens lol. ➸ notes: i tried to combine all the ideas together! not as smutty because i really got invested in the angst… i’m sorry 😭 tysm for sending an ask! <3

The smell of freshly brewed black tea, the scent strong enough to flutter your eyes open as your body stretched across the bed. A mess of blankets, one body beside you, and the winter sun filtering through the half-shut curtains. The daylight on your skin warmed your body, a feeling that you had missed during the past few weeks of dreary weather that left most Piltover citizens huddled away indoors.

“Good morning,” a tired voice rumbled next to you, muscled arms wrapping around your body and tugging you close. You were nestled into Jayce’s chest, face pressed against his skin, and wanting nothing more than to fall right back into sleep and forget about the day and any responsibilities you may have.

“Mmh,” you grunted in response, inhaling a deep breath as you peered up through sleep-riddled eyes. Your eyes locked with Jayce’s, a beautiful colour mixed of golden hues that put the evening sun to shame, “I like this new look,” you hummed quietly, fingers tracing along the edge of the beard he had yet to shave. Even his hair had begun to curl over his ears.

“Yeah?” He grinned, revealing that stupid tooth gap between his two front teeth you loved so much, “I don’t know. I’m starting to feel a bit shaggy.”

The blanket slipped from your body as you sat up in the bed next to him, yawning as your arms outstretched above you and a familiar hand smoothed over your hip, “it looks good, Jayce,” you said through a soft smile, “it’s not like you have anyone to impress these days.”

“Ouch,” he smirked, shifting to sit up against the pillows, hand moving over your thigh as you sat next to him, “suppose you’re right.”

Life had been quiet since Jayce stepped down from the council, focusing full-time on hextech with Viktor, exploring the possibilities and understanding the hexcore. It was meticulous work, but it was work that needed to be done. They both vowed their lives to it.

“Where’s Viktor?” You looked toward the open bedroom door, the smell of tea still wafting through the air. He couldn’t have been gone from bed for too long, likely set up somewhere with scatterings of research papers. Or a good book if he was taking a break.

Jayce sat forward, removing his hand from you so he could push the blankets off and swing his legs off of the bed. His movements slow as his body slowly woke up, “Is it just me, or has he been distant lately?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, shuffling off of the bed and sliding into your slippers, the floorboards cool from the deep drops in temperature outside, “I tried asking him about it yesterday, and he brushed me off.”

“Mhm,” Jayce mumbled passively, stepping beside you and wrapping his arms around your shoulders to tug you against his chest, rousing a giggle from you. 

“Stop,” you laughed loudly as he kissed at your neck and ear, the thick hair on his face tickling you.

“Okay, okay,” he chuckled lowly into your ear, you could feel his smile on your skin, “we better go say good morning.”

“Already ahead of you,” you rolled your eyes, peeling away from his arms and stepping out into the hallway that lead you right to him. There he sat in the office they’d set up for home, hunched over the desk with a cup of steaming tea and eyes glued to one of the hundreds of research notebooks they’d collected.

“Good morning, love,” you hummed, stepping into the mess of a room and smiling brightly as Viktor glanced over his shoulder at you. His eyes were tired, cheeks rather sunken in – ill. Over the course of the past few months he’d been struggling more, but stubborn when you and Jayce offered help.

“Morning,” he murmured, running a hand over his tired eyes, “thought you weren’t going to wake up.”

“I bet you would’ve really liked that, wouldn’t you?” You asked, shaking your head as you stepped toward him and against the back of his chair, eyes scouring over the pages, “Getting work done?” Your hand absently rested on his shoulder, the other brushing through his hair that flipped out at the ends.

Viktor’s body relaxed in your hands, eyes closing, “Not really,” he sighed, and you could feel the defeat that had sunken in him. 

You only then had realized Jayce didn’t follow you in, the distant sound of the shower starting.

“Hey,” you murmured, inhaling a deep breath as you moved to sit up on the desk, your line of sight above Viktor as you looked down at him, “what’s wrong?”

His eyebrows furrowed together, a quick shake of his head following as he adjusted himself on his seat, “Nothing. Why do you ask?”

“Viktor,” you tilted your head, hand stealing the book away from his hands. His eyes snapped open immediately, trying to reach for the notes, but you pulled it away and set it on the other side of yourself, “I’m not leaving you alone unless you talk with me. Properly this time.”

A heavy sigh came from his lips, looking up at you with the faintest of pouts on his lips, “are you going to ask me why I’ve been distant again? Or is it something else to bother me about this time?”

The words were sharp, but they hadn’t stung. You didn’t take it personally.

“You’re smart enough to know,” you frowned, clenching your jaw, “it’s not fair to Jayce and me.”

“What isn’t fair? That I’m feeling unwell?” Viktor has been angrier than you realized, but you didn’t flinch at his outburst. He grabbed his crutch, using it to pull himself out of his chair as the metal of his leg brace creaked, and you tried to help, but he swatted your hand away, “That I have to stay home everyday working on hextech, while Jayce gets to go to the lab? While you two get to spend all your time together while I stay here?”

“Oh,” your eyes widened, pulling your hands back and staring at him. You didn’t know what to say, and you noticed the embarrassed look in his eyes – shame.

“That’s not what I meant,” he muttered.

“Viktor, is that what this is about?” Your heart ached as you slid off of the desk, stepping up to him and resting your hands along the sharp lines of his jaw.

He tried turning his head away, but you had the advantage now and kept him still, looking up at him with those big doe-eyes that worked too well on him and made his stomach twist in the best way possible. He did his best to avoid your gaze, feeling nothing short of pathetic.

“Can we leave it be?” He eventually croaked, “pretend I didn’t say anything, please?”

“I ran a shower for you, Viktor,” Jayce stepped into the room, towel in his hand as he looked between you two. There was a tension in the room that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, “uh, bad time?”

“Thanks,” Viktor mumbled, pulling away from you and limping against his crutch as he took the towel and marched his way out of the office, slowly.

“Do you need a han–”

“No.”

Silence filled the office as Viktor left, leaving the two of you stunned in silence. Jayce turned toward you, a puzzled expression on his face as he tried to put the pieces together.

“We haven’t been good partners,” you groaned, turning to press your face against him, mind reeling for ways to remedy Viktor’s heartache. You couldn’t even begin to imagine how he felt, having far too much privilege in this situation.

“Is he mad I’ve been spending too much time away?” He asked, ripping you from your thoughts, “I could bring some of the lab stuff home, or… or I could take some time off! Right?”

“No,” you let out a breathy laugh at his eagerness, one of the many traits of Jayce Talis that made you fall so madly in love with him, “well, maybe.”

“I can go right now,” he moved to turn.

“Jayce,” you laughed, holding him back from turning your home into the newest hextech laboratory and spending countless hours trudging through the snow with heavy equipment, “Baby steps. He’s been quite tired, lately. Maybe we should get him to bed and see if we can help him someway,” you wore a sly smile on your lips, attempting to push Jayce’s thoughts in the same direction as yours. 

He huffed out a laugh, “Sounds like you’re the worked up one trying to get what you want.”

You playfully hit his arm, “Oh, shut up. Like you aren’t, it’s been weeks. If we’re feeling it, then he is too,” you put your hands on his back, pushing him toward the door, “let me take care of it.”

You found yourself in the bathroom with Viktor, him sitting on a chair you’d slid in so you could help him. Help that he was appreciative of after taking time to de-stress.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, eyes closed as you ran the towel through his hair, “I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you.”

Anger wasn’t a feeling that Viktor was so familiar with, it often fleeted right by him. He had always been so ambitious, ready to take on the world with a cup half-full mentality. These past few years had taken its toll on him, leaving him uncertain. 

Worried. 

“It’s okay, love,” you cooed, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead as he tilted his head back on the chair, looking up at you, “you should come rest with us. It’s cold out, we deserve a day in bed.”

You could see a spark flicker in his eyes, the first in days. That’s all you wanted, was to see that spark more often, to show Viktor that he wasn’t being left behind – that you and Jayce couldn’t even imagine a life without loving him like you do. That, itself, would be an injustice.

Once refreshed, you helped him to the bedroom with nothing more than a gentle hand on his back. Mindful about your actions, knowing now that as much as he hid it well, he had pride. A need to just feel normal, once in a while. Like he wasn’t just the sick man people saw him as – the sick man he knew he was.

Jayce was sitting up in bed, legs sprawled over the mess of blankets and a book in his hand. Eyes flickered up from the bed, a small smile on his lips as he sat up.

“There he is. The love of my life,” he beamed, snapping the book shut.

“Eh, that’s too much, Jayce,” Viktor sighed, cringing at the display of affection, and you snorted out a laugh.

“Oh, come on,” he grinned, sitting up as he watched Viktor move into the bed and lay against the pillows, admiring him, “I can’t appreciate you?”

“You heard him, it’s too much,” you teased, closing the blinds so you could all hide away from the snowy surroundings. Take the time to focus on only each other.

Viktor looked up at Jayce, long lashes fluttering as a pink shade tinted his cheeks. One of his calloused hands gently rubbed along his slender waist where his ribs were visible, tilting down and wasting no time in closing the distance between their lips.

You crawled onto the other side of the bed, sliding against Viktor with ease, lips on his shoulders and hands exploring his body. You hoped you hadn’t been too eager.

“You don’t have to do this,” Viktor’s voice muffled against Jayce’s lips, frail hands pressing to his hardened chest, “I get it.”

“I want to,” Jayce answered earnestly, pulling back from their kiss, “I love you. You know that, right?”

“... I do.”

There was nothing else in the world that you and Jayce wanted more than to make sure that Viktor was loved and cared for, that his heart could be full when his mind and body felt weak. To know that you both unequivocally and unconditionally loved him, more than one should bear.

Viktor’s body was sensitive as you and Jayce ravaged him – tired and weak, but craving everything you two offered him. Eating up the desire like a starved man.

You straddled his hips, rocking atop of him lazily while Jayce pressed heady kisses along his neck, licking at the marks he left behind. Everyone was tired, paces slowing down and bodies spent, but you didn’t have the need to stop. You all made up for lost time, and you and Jayce showed Viktor just how much love you had for him.

“Thank you,” Viktor whimpered.

[solarhysm]

DUST OF US - 01

> synopsis: 7 years ago Y/N broke Jungkook’s heart when she decided to end their relationship without an explanation. When they meet again at a friend's wedding, after almost a decade, Jungkook needs answers to move on.

> pairing: Jungkook x reader

> genre: romance, ex to lovers au

> warnings: explicit languages, violence, smut, cheating, nsfw, angst, +18 minors dni !!

> word count: 2.6k

*french writer, i apologize in advance for my awful english!

AGE: 27 years old

“Where are you going?” Baekhyun asks, stretching as you get out of bed and grab all of your clothes. It was late but you hate sleeping in another bed than yours.

“I should go home.” You simply say, pulling on your panties and jeans as the younger man whines, flipping on his back.

“Oh, come on, Y/N, stay the night.” He suggests as you shake your head with an apologetic smile while putting your bra on.

“Hyesun is getting married, tomorrow. I need to get up early,” You explain, but it was an excuse. You don’t want to be more than intimate enough with anyone.

Once fully clothed, you grab your keys and turn to look at the man still laying completely naked in bed. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Aight, boss,” He teases making you roll your eyes. “One last kiss?”

“Bye,” You smile closing the door of his room, hearing him laugh before making your way out of his apartment.

Once in your car, you sigh, leaning on your seat as you stare at the ceiling. Eleven pm already, and tomorrow’s list kept growing in your mind.

Your way home was silent, you didn’t even put music on, mentally listing all the tasks to do tomorrow morning. Drive Hyesun to the hairstylist, make sure that the flowers are delivered, get her dress, and a lot more.

The house should already be decorated by now. Hyesun was getting married at her in-law’s house. They have a big yard and suggested to make the reception in there. Since you couldn’t be here to help today, you ended up with the stressful tasks tomorrow. Her friends aren’t yours.

Yes, you still have a small circle of friends in common, but Hyesun was a sunshine and most of all: an extrovert. She met her husband by boldly asking his number at a coffee shop where he was working, five years ago. Something you could never. That’s probably why you’re still single and she’s getting married.

Kicking your shoes off at your front door, you’re greeted by your cat. He was a little terror. Or a demon like Namjoon loves to call him. And you can’t blame your friend. Not only was Trash a black cat with only one ear, the other got cut off. You don’t know how.

He was already like that when you adopted him. He was skinny and really ugly when you first got him. Well... he’s still ugly, but now he’s well-fed, maybe too much, you chuckle as you kneel to scratch the top of his head. But he was also a tiny demon who attacked everyone who dared to visit you.

“Did you miss me?” You coo as the black cat let out a meow husky enough to let you think that he smokes too many cigarettes. He’s not a loud cat, he occasionally meows when he’s hungry or when you come home after a long day.

As you make your way to the kitchen, the fat cat follows you. Opening the fridge, you take out a bottle of water and gives him a treat. Your eyes fall on the dress you’ll wear tomorrow, hanged at the bedroom door.

The wedding theme was midnight sky. So, obviously, your dress is navy blue and long enough to end at your ankles with a slit on the right side. You didn’t choose it, Hyesun did.

Palming your face, you take a sip of your water and walk to your bedroom. You need a shower. You could still smell Baekhyun’s cheap cologne on your skin. And you hate it. Too used to your own scent. Not of any men anymore.

The wedding was beautiful, but you didn’t expect less from your best friend. And she was gorgeous in her wedding dress. She smiles a lot, but you never see her smile that way. And all you could think was that her jaw muscles probably hurt after four hours.

“No, what I want, is a whole butterfly starting from my shoulders to my ribs,” Your friend, Hwan explains to you as she flips to show her bare back. You can’t help but scoff, taking a sip of your wine.

“Why? You want to become a fairy or something?” You ask arching a brow as she turns to face you, frowning.

“Don’t make fun of me,” Hwan pouts, folding her arms under her chest, “I saw it on Pinterest, I totally fell in love with it.”

“A tattoo is for life, you know?” You sigh, finishing your glass before tilting your head to brush your fingers on her back, right where her ribs are. “And this part is sensitive. It’ll hurt like hell.”

Hwan shivers at your touch, and you chuckle. You know her. She wants a tattoo today, a piercing tomorrow and in two weeks she’ll regret both. The red head -a dye she did without a second thought- rolls her eyes.

“And you think I can’t handle the pain?” She asks with an attitude, a tone that makes you pinch her forearm as she squirms and step back. “Are you crazy?”

“You can’t handle the pain, Hwan.” You conclude while she rubs the part that start to turn red.

“You’re the worst tattoo artist I know. I’ll give you a bad review on Google.” She groans as you smirk and stick your tongue’s out at her, making her smile amused by you.

Your eyes scan the room full of guests you don’t know before a huge smile spread on your lips as you notice the man all alone. He was sipping his glass of whisky as he looks at his phone, feigning to be interested but he’s probably scrolling emptily. You know him. He hates when people try to connect with him.

Excusing yourself from Hwan and the other girls, you make your way to your friend, too busy on his phone to see you coming.

“Yoongs,” You call him once you’re a few steps closer to him, he lifts his cat eyes from his screen before offering you a slight smirk and opening his arms as you nestle against his chest. You’re not really touchy, but with Yoongi, it was different.

“Nice dress.” He simply says, his nose in your hair before you pull back to look at him. He looks nice too. His hair is longer, but it suits him.

“You didn’t cut your hair?” You ask as he sighs, rolling a strand between his finger as you keep an arm around his waist.

“Didn’t have the time for it.”, He mumbles taking another sip of his whisky. “I didn’t know you would be here. Since you own a tattoo shop, we don’t see you often anymore.”

“It’s my best friend’s wedding, I couldn’t miss it. She would have dragged my ass back here.” you chuckle making him smile and nod.

“That sounds like Hyesun,” He jokes as you smile.

Yoongi wasn’t that tall, but he was still everyone’s type. Calm, mysterious, and good looking. If only dating was on his plans. That guy will probably stay single his whole life, too focused on his work.

“I was looking for you everywhere!” Hyesun groans grabbing your arm.

“I was here,” You simply reply, raising your shoulders, making Yoongi looks at you both amused. You probably get along because you’re both sarcastic. At least you know that’s something he likes about you.

“Thanks Sherlock, Mystery solved!” She rolls her eyes, before pulling you away from your friend, “Come on, follow me, I want to take pictures with you.”

She quickly waves at Yoongi, blowing a kiss at him as he didn’t move before pushing you away.

“He’s like a good old wine. Every time I see him, he’s getting hotter.” She smirks as you make your way to the photographer.

“Aren’t you married?” You joke making her roll her eyes.

“Married, not blind. As long as I touch with my eyes,” She adds as you shake your head, laughing, joining the girls.

Yoongi leaves his empty glass on the table next to him, an amused smirk on his face. If you stayed longer, he would have been part of an interesting reunion.

“Shit, I almost peed myself. There is a whole queue at the male bathroom,” The younger man groans, coming back next to Yoongi as he takes back his beer. “Hyung?”

The older man turns to his friend and arches a brow to show that he’s listening.

“Hyesun told me that there was a private bathroom upstairs for the closest friends” Yoongi simply mumbles, making Jungkook groans as he ties his hair into a bun.

“And you tell me only now?” the tattooed man sighs as he pulls up his sleeves, the temperature of the room getting hotter. Or maybe it’s him from running here and there.

“You left without a word,” Yoongi shrugs like it was obvious, his eyes still on the group of girls making funny faces at the camera. Jungkook lets out a chuckle.

“Which one?” He asks his friend who simply arches a brow. “I’m sure it’s the red head. You always had a think for girls with weird hair colors.”

Yoongi didn’t say anything. He’s used to the teasing. It’s a loss of energy, Jungkook was competitive and if you say that the sky was blue, he would tell otherwise until you tell him he's right.

Jungkook smiles proudly, turning his attention to the bunch of girls. Hyesun had pretty friends, but he’s not surprised. Until he recognized a face. A face he knows too well, a face he loved deeply once upon a time.

You didn’t change. Well… Your hair is shorter. You never liked your hair short, not after your mother spent your childhood cutting it into a bob.

The bangs too. You hated them. But today, you wore it gracefully. His doe eyes trail the length of it, how it brushes your shoulders when you laugh, how you have to push your bang asides.

He never hated you. Even after you broke his heart. Even after coming home to an empty apartment because you disappeared, or when you blocked his number and changed yours. He never hated you.

“You said she wasn’t here.” He frowns, turning to Yoongi who simply arches a brow.

“She wasn’t supposed to.” Yoongi replies, taking a sip of his new glass.

“I shouldn’t have come.” Jungkook sighs, his brows still in a frown creating a slight wrinkle between them.

“Kookie,” Yoongi turns his gaze to his friend who’s clearly uncomfortable. “You’re back in town. You both have the same friends group. What did you expect? You’ll have to confront her one day or another.”

“Y/N,” Hwan calls you as you were taking another glass of wine, facing her with a small hm? “The guy you talked earlier,”

“Yoongi?”

“Yeah, something like that. Do you know his friend?” She asks as you follow her gaze to the large man next to Yoongi, his back facing you. You liked the tattoos, and the muscular frame. The long hair was clearly a bonus.

“No,” You reply, your eyes trailing on Yoongi’s friend. You’ll definitely ask Yoongi who that is later.

“He’s hot,” Hwan comments as you nod, taking a sip of your wine before spitting everything out. You cough when the mysterious man turns around, laughing with your friend.

And almost immediately, you hide behind the table that separates you. Was this a joke?

“What’s wrong? One of your one-night stands?” Hwan chuckles clearly amused to see you, on your knees, trying to hide under the table. If only you could be sucked up by the floor. It was stupid. It was an old story. It’s been seven years since you dumped him like an old, forgotten sock.

“It’s my ex,” You almost whisper, making Hwan wide her eyes and hide with you like she even met him before.

You never thought that you’ll see him again. He disappeared for Japan right after your breakup for his studies. And you didn’t think about him since then. Well, it’s a lie.

You thought about him the three first years after your split. But, he was just some old memories from the shoebox under your bed. 

Some love letters written by a teenage boy, an empty bottle of perfume and a shirt of his that you didn’t have the heart to throw. But that’s all he was. A shoebox of memories.

“Oh damn,” Hwan murmurs, “How did you get that hot piece of man?” She asks as you roll your eyes.

He wasn’t that hot when you started dating him. He had a chestnut haircut, was too skinny even if he was the sporty type, and huge doe eyes. Now he’s…. a man.

“I think… I need to get out”, You swallow, get up and finish your glass. Walking to the backyard, you catch a bottle on your way.

Thankfully, Hwan didn’t follow you. A few persons were outside, some of them making out, the others too drunk, and probably getting some fresh air like you.

Did Hyesun invite him? Why did he come? He knows that she’s your friend. That you’d be here. Palming your face, you lean back against the wall, taking a sip of your bottle of champagne. Fuck… This is childish. You’re twenty-seven, for God’s sake. Act like an adult.

“Hiding?” You heard on your right, making you almost jump.

And here he was, a few meters away, a bottle of beer in hand. His eyes changed. He grew up.

“Good evening, Jungkook,” You breathe as he offers you a slight smile, his lips mostly forming a line.

“Good evening, Y/N,” He replies, making a few steps closer, “Long time no see.”

“Yeah...”

A silence falls between you before he takes a breath like he wants to calm his nerves too. Were you two nervous around each other?

“How… have you been?” He asks with a soft voice.

“Good. You?”

“Good.”

“Nice.”

You wanted to punch yourself. That conversation was stupid. Back then, you two could debate about everything for hours. Now, you can’t even have a basic conversation.

“I… Didn’t know you were back.” You say, looking at the grass at your feet.

“Yeah… I- I missed Korea.” He raises his shoulders slightly before taking a sip of his beer.

“Oh…Okay.” You scrunch your nose and take a sip of your bottle to not look too much stupid but his lips crease in an amused smile at the bottle in your hand. Neither of you says anything. And it’s weird. “That’s… some cool tattoos,” You add, trying to make the conversation as you point his entire inked sleeve with your chin.

“Yeah?” He chuckles awkwardly. “I always wanted tattoos.”

“I know.” You reply, almost immediately, making him lift his gaze to you as your eyes widen. “You- hm- You thought that Yakuza were cool.” you continue as he nods, his eyes still on you while you look away.

“You remembered.”

You clench your jaw slightly and take another sip of champagne. You hate champagne, but you didn’t read what was written on the bottle when you took it.

“Your father must be proud of you. I heard you had your own tattoo shop.” He says as your gaze soften. Jungkook and your dad were always close, he even called him ‘son’. Your father was in fact, proud of you.

“He is”, was all you could reply, and he nods silently before taking a deep breath.

“Can I… ask you a question? I need to understand something” He frowns a little, turning his head to look at the backyard before finally glancing back at you. He is waiting for you to answer and you simply stare at him. “Why did you leave me, Y/N?”

DUST OF US MASTERLIST.

WATTPAD.

buy me a coffee<3

[1d1195]

The Lottery I

~3.7k words

From me: I thought I would close out 2024 with a mini-series. I'm hoping for shorter parts but I should be able to post on a regular basis (Mondays). You should see MANY similarities to my favorite show. I have been planning this one for over a year. I really hope you enjoy 💕

Warnings: angst (?) fluff

Summary: Small towns have the biggest romances and the best view of the moon.

“I don’t know how you ended up there,” Bailey shook her head.

“Bails,” she laughed. “I Googled it. It’s cute.”

The little town was adorably cute. The kind of place where the Christmas-hating CEO female lead in the movie would fall head over heels for the place in a month because of the small-town charm. It was about thirty minutes outside the city but with traffic it could take up to an hour. It was quaint. The exact kind of place she could envision her little dream.

“Your house is good?” Bailey asked. She nodded, flipping the camera to show her the little place she found to live in. Two stories. But the second floor was small. A bedroom, a bathroom, and a small room for storage. Maybe in the right light it could be a small office, but it would be better holding all her books. The bottom floor was open. Living room, dining area, and a kitchen. Down the hall was another bathroom and her bedroom. Right now, it was filled with boxes and no clear markers for any of the rooms. Her furniture was misplaced—the table in the living room, the TV on top of it, the couch was near the kitchen, and the lamps were atop the counters in the kitchen.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was home.

Moving in was second to her priorities. So the boxes would stay, her clothes haphazardly falling out of boxes, the iron on top of the island in the kitchen to get the wrinkles out of her blouses. “Neighbors are good?”

“I’ve only met Edith and David. They’re about sixty-five years old and hilarious. Edith is insistent on having tea by the end of the week and David wants to set me up with his grandson.”

“I can’t imagine you outside the city,” Bailey sounded wistful.

“It’ll be good for me to be away from all the big lights. I missed the stars... and the moon,” her voice was filled with fondness. Like the moon was her old friend she hadn’t seen in a while.

“We could see the moon in the city,” Bailey reminded her.

It wasn’t just the moon, it was the stars, and silence that the city never allowed. “It’s not the same and you know it.”

“You know babe...” Bailey trailed off. “You look... happy.”

She was. Really happy. The kind of happiness that couldn’t be faked because she was supposed to be happy. The kind of happiness that would make anyone jealous. And why shouldn’t she be happy? She was young, basically fresh out of college, ready to start her own business, and do everything she wanted on her own.

“I am happy,” she nodded and looked at her best friend through FaceTime. “I know everyone thinks I’m crazy. Try not to let them be too mean to me. I’m... I’m good,” she promised. “This is good.”

“You know,” Bailey grinned and shook her head. “I think you’re right.”

*

She wore her lucky dress—the one that she is certain got her a scholarship—and chose a pair of flats over heels because in her quick self-tour of the town she noted the brick sidewalks were likely to take out her ankle. She made sure every single strand of her hair wasn’t out of place. She wanted this to be a good impression. All her books and shows told her that small towns were lovely, but she was an outsider. It was possible that they wouldn’t love a newcomer and so she didn’t want to make it seem like she was changing everything.

But since it was her first night in her new home, there was nothing to eat. Nor to cook with even if she wanted to. Maybe if she had a loaf of bread, she could find her toaster in one of the boxes. Moving on her own was tough but she was proud of herself. Another check she could mark on her to-do list.

Her first order of business was securing her business. However, that couldn’t be done on an empty stomach. She locked the door to the little home she now owned. The trim needed a coat of paint, and she desperately needed to buy a lawn mower. Some of the windows needed to be replaced. She tried opening one of them and nearly threw her back out. The bushes in front of the little porch needed to be trimmed or taken out altogether.

But it was home, and it was lovely. She was excited to do it on her own. It made her feel proud.

Her family was far away. Honestly, it was for the best. They thought it was a terrible idea for her to move, maybe because they couldn’t depend on her any longer. If she thought too long about it, she got upset. But this was good. She was doing what her grandma believed she could do. What her grandpa wanted her to do.

With a family far away, her place was filled with boxes. Hardly anything was unpacked. It was a miracle she found her lucky dress but perhaps that was why it was so lucky. With the distance between them, it was easier to ignore the group chat. Easier to not feel obligated to help her family.

They’re adults, honey. They’ll figure it out.

She hoped her grandma was right.

Her friends were still in the city. Completely shocked she left the hustle and bustle for a small-town place. Their lack of support or what they passed off as worry made her nervous all the same. How would it survive? But she researched the perfect place and took plenty of time setting up everything she needed so she was ready to go when she graduated.

The only thing she wished could be different, was that her grandparents got to see her.

*

The main part of town felt like a city. But way friendlier. People shouted in the middle of the road. Kids ran across the road to the school. There were very few cars but even the ones present parked illegally and the officer strolling the sidewalks didn’t pay any mind to it. It was adorable. It felt like she was in a Disney movie, and she wanted to sing.

The center green was being set up with seats and banners. People were on walkie-talkies directing more items about the area. The space was warm and cozy. Like where she could spend the day reading in the grass and have a picnic with herself or a friend.

God, she hoped she made some friends. It seemed possible. Everyone was so nice. They all knew each other. That was evident. It was so comforting, exactly the change she wanted and needed, and she prayed they wouldn’t hate her for trying to bring something new to their little place.

As her stomach reminded her once more of its presence and emptiness, she approached the diner on one side of the main street. Squished between the post office and a shoe store. Someone was exiting as she opened the door, so she gestured for them to exit before she proceeded. “Thank you, darling,” the man tipped his hat to her.

With one deep breath, she entered.

It was like she was the new girl at school. The second she crossed the threshold of the diner, everyone stared at her. There wasn’t a voice to be heard, the only sound coming from behind the counter in the kitchen. “Uh... hi,” she swallowed. Quietly, she made her way to the counter and situated herself at the end of it away from everyone else.

Sure, she wanted to be part of the community and wanted to be liked, but she didn’t want to force it. The place continued to be quiet, although the murmuring began. No doubt everyone whispered about her. “No newcomers lately, I guess,” she mumbled under her breath and pulled out her folder of paperwork to go over it again.

You’re going to crush it! Bailey’s message read. She smiled gratefully, feeling her heart slow. She was wearing her lucky dress. It was going to happen. She was going to be happy no matter what.

“Shit!” It was paired with the distinct sound of something shattering. She turned directly to the sound as did everyone else in the place and she was on her feet immediately. It wasn’t anything major, a coffee mug on the floor.

“Jesus, honey, watch it!” It was an older woman who scolded her husband with a light thwack on the arm.

“I didn’t mean to, Alice!”

“Harry!” Someone called.

“Jus’ a second,” the voice was from the back, low, almost like it didn’t want to be heard. He must have been cooking or something because there was a commotion in the back behind the kitchen door. She didn’t think much of it because she was worried that poor Alice and her husband were going to get hurt picking up the broken shards or slip in the mess of spilled coffee on the floor.

“I can help,” she offered and crouched near the older woman—Alice—as she struggled to grab the pieces. “Here,” she grabbed a rag off the counter even though she had never been there and it wasn’t her place to do so. Gently she pushed the broken pieces and coffee into a neat little pile sopping up the mess as best she could.

“Well, aren’t you sweet,” Alice chimed. “Thank you.”

“Happy to help,” she smiled politely.

“Did you just move here?” She asked. Perhaps that would satiate the whispering.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Where are you living?”

“Oh... um... Oak Street,” she stammered. It probably didn’t help her newness that she stammered. But her new address was new; she was still getting used to it.

“Oh, Holliston’s place! It’s a lovely home,” someone called from across the room.

“Y’don’t have t’do that,” it was the same voice that called from the back but now right next to her.

“Oh...” Her heart skipped a beat as she looked up at him. Did time seem to stop? That couldn’t be right. She wasn’t going to have a crush on the first guy she met on her first official day as a resident of the small town. “I don’t mind,” she said quickly looking up at him from her crouched position. “Happy to help and...” She stopped speaking again as he stared at her. His eyes were pretty, even if he looked grumpy. His mouth was set in a frown, and she noticed that once more everyone stopped speaking. “Sorry,” she said and stood, scooping the mess as best she could in her hands. Coffee dripped from the rag into the puddle at her feet. She could feel the splatter on her ankles, and she was nervous to look if she had ruined her shoes. It didn’t bother her, but she wasn’t sure she’d have time to head home and change before she went to the town hall.

Harry held out the tray for dirty dishes and she placed the rag, broken pieces of mug, and all into it. He dropped it on the counter about two spaces down from where her folder and purse remained. “Are you okay, ma’am?” She asked softly placing a gentle hand on her arm in a comforting kind of way.

“Alice, Ed, y’okay?” Harry—she presumed—was quiet. It almost rubbed her the wrong way that he repeated her, but he knew them, and she didn’t. So, she returned to her seat quietly after offering one more smile to Alice.

“All good, Harry,” Ed said in return.

Harry went back around the counter and fiddled with the coffee pot. He refilled a new mug and brought it over to Ed.  When he returned behind the counter he stood in front of her silently. Waiting. Not offering a word nor question.

Harry looked to be roughly her age. Handsome. If this was David’s grandson, she would have reconsidered his offer. But his scowl was to be desired. Made her uneasy. She wondered if this was how he always was or if it was something about her.

But she wanted to be liked. People generally didn’t dislike her. It would devastate her if he did. As grumpy as he seemed, she wasn’t going to shy away from her own personality. “Do y’want something?”

“What’s your favorite?” She asked glancing from the menu to him.

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t have a favorite.”

She blinked. He worked here. Did he own it? That would be crazy, he was so young. But she was young and about to own her business too. So who was she to judge his age? “How can you not have a favorite?”

“I like it all,” he shrugged.

“You seriously don’t have a favorite?”

“Since I own the diner,” he was explaining it like she was a toddler, “everything is good.”

“Well...” she took a deep breath. It wasn’t that she was one of those people who assumed everyone would like her, but it was... different to work for friendliness. Bailey told her she had the kind of face that would work wonders in sales. Everyone just opened up to her.

But not Harry. Harry was stoic as could be. It barely looked like he was breathing. Other than the irritation in his eyes, he had a really nice face. Smooth skin, angular jaw, and just pretty features that were probably wasted on someone so grumpy. But she could see something flicker in his eyes. Something that she wasn’t sure he wanted anyone to see which is why it was merely a flicker.

Was this grumpy man amused? By her?

“...Do you have a recommendation then?”

“Anything. It’s all good,” he was clearly over this exchange.

She thought she could get him to budge but it didn’t seem that way. This was the fast track to nowhere. Not the impression she wanted to make on her first official day in town. Sighing, she glanced at the specials board. “You have peach pancakes?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have white chocolate chips?”

Harry sighed, exasperated with the conversation, and she hadn’t even ordered her coffee yet. “Yup...” he was staring at her like this was going to kill him. Or he was going to kill her.

“Can I have one of each? Peaches and white chocolate chip?”

“What?” He seemed surprised. Which was interesting because surely it couldn’t have been crazy. Peaches and white chocolate chips had to be popular if he had them. He shook his head. “No.”

“Why not?” She frowned.

“Because s’extra work t’make a whole batch of peachpancakes and chocolate chip. One or the other.”

Maybe it was his tone or her frustration. The nerves of heading to town hall after breakfast. The piss-poor impression she was making at the extremely local diner where everyone seemed to know Harry. Even though he was grumpy they still ate there. It was obvious this wasn’t their first day being there. They still called out for him when the mug shattered even though she was more than capable of helping.

But she didn’t want to take no for an answer. Maybe if he had placated her or smiled. Or if he just didn’t look at her like she was the bane of his existence she wouldn’t have pressed. “But... I don’t want one or the other. I want one of each.”

“Get ‘em mixed together or don’t have ‘em,” he shrugged.

“But if I get them mixed together, the peaches will sink to one side or slide off all together. The chocolate chips always sink to the bottom. So the ratio in each bite will be off. I’ve tried it before; it just doesn’t blend well.”

“If I make y’one peach and one white chocolate chip, then all m’ratios will be off. I’ll have t’purchase different quantities of peaches and chocolate chips.”

“That seems a little dramatic for one plate of—"

“S’my diner! Jus’ order what’s on the menu or order four pancakes.”

“That’s absurd! I doubt I’ll even eat one whole pancake!”

Harry swallowed hard, his jaw flexing tight. Briefly he looked at the ceiling and then back at her. His voice was quieter when he spoke. “Order what’s on the menu or don’t order at—"

“Fine! Two peach pancakes!”

Honestly, she has no idea why she was arguing in the first place. It was idiotic and childish but there was something about the grumpiness that was off-putting and made her uncomfortable. Perhaps it was solely because he didn’t seem to like her, and she was trying really hard to fit in and he was the only person she had met so far that was close to her own age. If she could get him to like her, then maybe she wouldn’t be friendless and lonely.

With another large sigh (like it was painful for him to be standing near her) he rolled his eyes and headed to the back to make her breakfast. She wouldn’t be surprised if he poisoned them.

The diner was still quiet, and she could feel eyes flicking over to her repeatedly, their gazes heating her up with knowledge she was being watched. To keep her cool, she continued flipping through her paperwork folder and scrolled on her phone.

About ten minutes later, Harry returned holding her plate. It was practically silent again. The show that ensued was not forgotten by the other customers. Harry failed to hide his interest in her paperwork and failed to hide the fact he was reading whatever was in front of her. It didn’t bother her, honestly. She wanted to be an open book. Especially in a small town and especially with the guy that looked beyond irritated with her.

Trying again was insanity. But she was nothing if not one for perseverance. “Do you know what time the town hall opens? I tried to find a time online but—"

Harry snorted. “Town Hall doesn’t do online. S’whenever Sutton gets there t’unlock.”

She blinked. Small towns. “When’s that?”

“Usually before nine-thirty.”

“Usually?”

Harry shrugged, placing the plate in front of her. She could smell cinnamon and maple. Of course, the peaches were starting to caramelize as well and so it really looked utterly delicious. “Sometimes he forgets his alarm. Then s’before ten-thirty.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Alright,” she nodded. “Hey,” she called quietly as Harry turned to leave. “Do you do tabs? I’m probably going to be here every morning before work. It’s fine if you don’t. Just... figured it would easier.”

Did it get even quieter? Harry had a way with sighing. Heavily. Like talking to her and thinking were the two greatest and hardest tasks he’d ever been given in his life. Her eyes quickly darted around the place. There were enough tables to seat about twenty people plus five seats at the counter. It was busy—not crowded or full, but busy. It was just after the morning commute group had left; she had to imagine. The hustle of the nine-to-five crowd was long gone. “Sure,” he shook his head. “Every Friday.”

She was certain she didn’t imagine it that time. The entire place was silent for another ten seconds before the low murmur picked up again.

“Okay, thank you. I just... moved into town and I had no food at my house.”

“Whose house?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Whose house did y’buy?”

“Oh... uh... the Holliston’s?” Was that the name someone said a few moments ago? It had to be because no one corrected her, and it was apparent everyone was listening to her to talk to Harry.

“Nice couple,” she supposed she got it right then. “Do you want coffee?” He asked.

Was this him warming up to her? It was interesting. It wasn’t exactly warm, but it wasn’t arguing. Which she liked. Although arguing with him was kind of... fun in its own way. But she needed a friend before she argued with him for hours on end.

“Oh, yes,” she nodded quickly. “Please. Thank you.” Was it hot in there? Harry was attractive—even if he was grumpy. A sour face usually turned her off immediately. But with Harry... it didn’t seem so grumpy anymore. Especially now that he stopped arguing with her. The crease between his eyebrows disappeared. His frown turned to a more neutral expression. She swore that flicker of amusement was back again. “This is a really cute town,” she remarked.

Harry ignored the comment as he poured her a mug of steaming coffee and placed a little plate of cream and sugar packets beside it. “What brings y’here?” He asked. She did hear his skepticism like maybe he was going to kick her out before she unpacked if she wasn’t good enough for the clique-y village.

“Oh,” she swallowed. “I’m hoping to open a book shop.”

Harry tilted his head at her, surprise all over his face and she couldn’t figure out for the life of her why that would be. “Oh?”

“Yeah.”

He nodded. Approval? Was she in the club? “Alright, well... welcome, I guess. Let me know if y’need help with the water at y’house. It always gave the Holliston’s trouble in the winter, and I’d have t’go over and fix it. Don’t want y’pipes t’freeze.”

That was it. He walked away. She watched the grumpy, attractive man tend to the tables, cleaning, and serving all by himself. The others were patient. There was no rushing to get to work like it was Starbucks and everyone quietly waited their turn. There wasn’t a lot of small talk with Harry, but people smiled at him. Like they knew him from the time he was a baby. Maybe they did.

She hoped he would warm up to her. It would be nice to have a friend like him.

Turning to her breakfast, she cut into both pancakes stacked on top of one another, brought a bite of the two little pieces to her mouth after drowning it in enough maple syrup to make the man look at her suspiciously from across the room.

There was no way someone was that concerned about ratios of one patron. He could be grumpy all he wanted, but Harry was dramatic too. (Even if it was way more syrup than she needed, and he probably had a point in worrying about syrup—especially if she was going to be there every day.)

But as the bite hit her tastebuds, she had to look down and see it for herself.

One pancake was peach and the other was white chocolate chip.

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[darkmatilda]

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟𝐟 | 𝐬. 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

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

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

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

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 11k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not that I know of. Why?”

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

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

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

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

But no one answered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The next thirty minutes were a blur.

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

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

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

Nothing had happened.

She was fine.

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

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

"Just tell me, is she alive?"

"I can't…"

"Just fucking tell me…"

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

“Did you see her?”

Unexpectedly, she hid her face in her hands.

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

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

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

“Yes, the first time…”

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

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

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

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

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

"I need to see her."

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

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

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

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

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

“She... fell down the stairs.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eight?”

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

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

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

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

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

Spencer turned away and walked off.

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

In his eyes she deserved the guilt she felt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you a relative?”

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

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

The surprised woman took a half step back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He needed to take a breath before he could respond.

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

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

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

"It’s... a personal matter."

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

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

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

"Reid," a familiar voice spoke.

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

"What are you doing here?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Who is the person you’re visiting?"

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

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

Morgan's eyes widened.

“Damn, Reid. I’m so... I’m so sorry.”

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

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

“Come here, man.”

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

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

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

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

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

Spencer scoffed and shook his head, ready to argue.

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

“I can’t,” Spencer replied firmly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The next day, he received a message. 

She had woken up. 

*

You didn’t remember much.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*

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

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

The fear on her face pierced his chest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*

The orthopedic collar pissed you off like nothing else.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were simply speechless.

 "They... they even know I exist?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "You don’t understand why?"

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

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

“It’s not the same...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“From... Jerry.”

“What? My husband sent me flowers?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm sorry I made you laugh."

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

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

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

"How could I possibly dare?"

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

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

"Is something bothering you?" he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*

Spencer had felt strange since the morning.

 Energized and excited. In the absolute best possible way.

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

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

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

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

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

 When they stopped, she furrowed her brow in surprise.

 “Why are we here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her lips remained slightly parted for a moment.

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

“A burden? You’re not…”

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

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

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

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

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

 Her lips remained pressed together, and she sighed.

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

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

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

“We could try,” she finally replied.

Spencer straightened his arms.

“In that case, let’s go inside.”

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

 “I do.”

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

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

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

“Spencer Reid, you’re impossible.”

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

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

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

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

She pretended not to notice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Terrified, he let out a strangled cry.

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

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

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

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

“Sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you really have to be this good?”

Spencer snorted.

“I’m afraid it’s just my curse.”

*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'll take that as a compliment."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You lifted yourself slightly to look at his face.

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

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

"And? Will they take you back?"

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

"I'm trying."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

sorry if i forgot about someone!

[megumiluvv]

I Slept With My Brother’s Babysitter

Includes: Choso x (fem)Babysitter reader, new relationship (like an hour old), kissing, lots. Choso plays with reader’s boobs for a little, boob kissing, nipple biting (yeowch), reader’s boobs aren’t a specific size, body worship, Choso is uncut, handjob/fingering (both receiving), oral (both receiving), praise (always, it’s zero writing🙄), protected sex, like three orgasms, aftercare (yippee!!), sillies in love.

Masterlist

Read Part One Here!

Word Count: ~3k

A/n: Yayyyy, hopefully, this is good! As the title and “includes” mentions, this is smut, so if you don’t want to read that with this au, please skip over!! I’m unsure if I will write a male reader counterpart (I apologize if I don’t), but I hope you enjoy this! As always, likes and reblogs are appreciated!! (I love reading your tags) I think I like boobs. Please ignore how this is like, 2-3 months late, I had a huge slump and then got really busy (_ _;) this is BARELY proofread, I let Grammarly do most of the work :P

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The moment Choso’s apartment door clicks shut, you’re pinned against the wall as he presses his lips to yours, hands reaching to lock the door. He holds your waist and you whine into his mouth when he lowers them to squeeze at your hips.

Choso hears the desperate noise and freezes, looking at you. “I… I liked that noise…”

His mumbles make you blush, and you two kiss more. “Can’t-” kiss “-just say that, dummy…”

“Can’t say what?” He pulls back, oblivious to how easily you get embarrassed.

“… Never mind, keep kissing me.”

He happily accepts that and squeezes your hips again as your lips lock for another time. Your tongues swap spit and you two stumble to his bedroom, where he finally pulls away again, much to your disappointment. You frown and chase his lips as he kneels to untie your shoes and carefully pull them off your feet.

“You are so absolutely gorgeous, you know that?”

“…You are embarrassing…”

“Do my words bother you?”

“No, they fluster me…”

He chuckles and kicks off his own shoes, carefully reaching to take off his shirt. You watch with hungry eyes and he just laughs more.

“Waiting for something?”

“I- no! …Okay, maybe.”

He laughs and takes off his shirt to show off his toned torso. You’ve seen Choso’s body a few times before when he comes out of the shower with only a towel around his waist when you watch Yuji, and of course, you can’t help but sneak a few glances. He noticed this, obviously, but would never tell you that. He reaches to undo your cute top, making sure it’s set aside carefully, and then unclasps your bra with ease.

The moment Choso sees your supple breasts, he is awestruck. He carefully takes one into his hand and lightly squeezes, gauging your reaction. You seem to like it, so he gently massages your breasts, leaning to kiss your neck and suck marks that Yuji will innocently question when he comes home.

You whine into the crook of his neck as he sucks those pretty marks into your skin and caresses your hard, sensitive nipples. Your hands grip the waistband of his pants needily tugging them down. It’s now his turn to blush as his penis is already at full attention.

“Wow, does kissing get you that desperate?” You laugh.

“Don’t make fun of me…”

“Sorry, sorryyy, I think it’s kind of endearing.”

“How is this endearing?”

“Well, you got all excited because you were kissing me, right? Ever got that way from kissing someone else?”

“Uh, n-no, I haven’t…” He seems embarrassed by his excitement.

You just smile. “That makes me feel special.”

His heart flutters, he really can’t help it when your smile is so gorgeous and words so sweet. He kisses you more, holding you gently and carefully slipping off the rest of your clothes. He doesn’t move to touch you yet, and you don’t move to touch him, you two just continue to taste each other’s mouths while in the nude.

Choso’s hand slides down to your ass and he lightly squeezes where he has always wanted to. The skin is so soft, better than he has ever imagined and you hum against his lips, enjoying the possessive gesture. You lay back and he kisses down your chest, lightly trailing his hands up and down your body.

Choso gently kisses your torso, sucking little marks into the skin between your breasts. His free hand traces the areola on your right breast while he focuses his mouth on your left. Your pretty whines echo in his mind and fill the room, hands carding into his dark locks to lightly pull as he looks up at you with hooded eyelids. The gasp that escapes your throat when his teeth gently bite down on your nipple makes him dizzy.

“Ch-choso, I’m sensitive there!” You whine and tug harder at his hair.

He just hums and moves to the other nipple, giving the same attention to it. His saliva mixed with the air feels almost freezing on your poor nipple when he does switch. His hand tweaks and tugs at the reddened area, looking back up at you with love-drunk eyes. Choso reluctantly pulls himself away after a few minutes and returns to locking lips with you.

“You're so gorgeous,” he mumbles against your lips. “Beautiful body, soft lips, heavenly tits…”

“You haven’t even let me appreciate your body,” you whine, yet there’s no real complaint in your words.

He chuckles and traces your hips. “You’ll get there soon. Let me do one more thing, please.”

You nod. “Okay.”

He rubs your hips gently and drags his hands along your sides, watching your reactions. His rough thumbs feel so soft to you as if they were the only hands that existed. Or mattered, at least. Calloused fingers trace down your hips and slowly make their way to your mound, his middle finger tracing slow circles into your clit.

Satisfied hums escape your throat as he slowly yet expertly rubs your clit, spreading your folds and examining your pretty pussy. Soft kisses plant onto your hips and slowly make their way to your sweet core.

He almost cums just from tasting you. The dark-haired male licks a long stripe along your pussy before suckling your pretty clit. The gasp that escapes you makes it so much harder for him not to blow his load, you just taste so divine and sound so sweet. Your quiet hums quickly turn into desperate whines as Choso expertly eats you out. He ruts his hips against the sheets for some relief, focusing on sucking your sensitive little nub and making you release those cute noises.

“Y-yes, right there, Choso,” you whine and buck up into his mouth.

He just hums into your weeping cunt, the vibrations from his voice adding yet another sensation to your body. Choso’s hands grip your hips in place as he takes you with his tongue. His tongue spells his name repeatedly into your clit as he guides his middle finger to prod at your sopping hole. The male slowly pushes his middle and ring fingers in and curls them up, loving how your breath hitches as your body arches up more into his mouth when his fingers expertly find your g-spot.

He wants to laugh at how easily he understands your body. The slightest touch has your mind reeling and he is ecstatic to know he's doing that to you. He can feel how you’re squeezing his fingers and realizes that you’re already so close to your release. He doesn’t change his movements in fear that he’ll ruin it for you, just staying constant while you breathily chant his name like a mantra.

“Choso! Cho-so! I’m- I’m gonna-!!”

You don’t finish the sentence before your orgasm ripples through your body, back arching up and hands gripping his hair like a vice. His slurps are so messy now as he swallows all the sweet juices of your release. He slowly pulls his mouth away to look up at you, your chest heaving and fingers lightly pulling his hair and then soothing his scalp.

You come down from the high and he is full of grins. Starry-eyed and kissing your skin as if you were sculpted from the finest clay. You sit up after a few minutes and the both of you kiss again, you can taste yourself on his tongue. He happily lets your tongue invade his mouth, his body jolting with pleasure when your hand finds his dick.

You slowly slide your hand along the base of his cock. Your thumb helps move his foreskin back so you can tease the head. As you do so, his breath hitches, and a quiet groan escapes his throat, his forehead resting against your shoulder. Choso grips your hips and ruts his own into your hand.

“Your hand feels amazing,” he murmurs huskily, breathing heavily into your neck. “Don’t stop…”

“No? Not even if I want to suck it instead?” You whisper with a hint of teasing.

His cheeks flush and he groans softly. “Okay, but only if you’re doing that instead…”

You giggle and press a soft kiss against his lips before kneeling down to be level with his manhood. You press another kiss against the red tip of his cock before sliding your tongue along his length. His soft groans fill the room as your mouth envelops him, his hands tangling into your hair and guiding your head.

Choso swears he’s in heaven. Everything about you is so heavenly. The warmth of your mouth has him going crazy, he can only imagine how your other hole would feel.

“Oh, just like that,” he groans, very vocal compared to his usual reserved nature. “So good…”

It takes everything for him not to blow his load when you hum in response. You can taste it too, the pre that leaks out of him is oh-so perfect. Not too bitter, you can’t help but want more. He tries to pull away before he can cum, but you have such a pretty look on your face that he cums shortly after. Thick ropes reach down your throat and you pull away with a gasp shortly after swallowing.

Once Choso has come down from his high, he feels red reach his face and he clears his throat. “S-sorry, that was probably super gross…”

“No, no, it wasn’t bad at all.” You smile reassuringly and sit on his lap, careful not to stimulate his dick again. “I wanted to taste it.”

He’s super red now if he wasn’t already. “Ah, um, o-okay…”

“Need a break before we start all the… penetration stuff?” You blush a little.

“Yeah, just a little bit,” he mumbles and buries into your neck, planting soft kisses.

You press a kiss to his lips and get off his lap to look for condoms. “Where do you keep your condoms?”

“Uh, the one cabinet Yuji can’t reach. Bathroom, above the mirror.”

You head to the bathroom connected to his bedroom and get on your tiptoes to open the cabinet and grab a condom. You return to the bed and carefully put the rubber on him, apologizing when he hisses out of sensitivity. You giggle a little afterwards and he frowns and attacks you with kisses.

“Ack! Choso! Quiiiit!” You laugh and wrap your arms around him.

“Mwah, mwah, mmmmmwah!” He chuckles and presses soft kisses around your neck and jawline.

“Quit ittt!” You giggle more.

He pulls away after pressing a soft kiss to your lips and has the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen on him. You smile yourself and push his bangs out of his face. He hums and rubs your hips.

“You’re gorgeous, you know that?”

“You’ve been saying that. I have no choice but to believe you.” You tease and kiss the corner of his lips.

“You should. I mean it.”

“Hm. So you’re the one who taught Yuji that honesty?”

“Ha, I guess, what’d he say?”

“He tells me all the time that I’m pretty.”

“He’s not wrong.”

“So do you and him talk about how pretty I am together?” You tease.

“Do you want more kisses?”

“Okay, okayyy…”

He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Then another. And another. The two of you make out again and he lifts you from his lap and lays you on your back against his bed. You tangle your fingers into his hair and hum against his lips, body jolting in surprise when his tip grazes your clit. He chuckles at that.

“Sensitive?”

“A little,” you mumble into his skin.

“But good enough for me to start?”

“Mhm, just don’t cum too early.” You tease and he nips at your bottom lip.

“Don’t plan on cumming before you.”

“Well, aren’t you a gentleman?”

He scoffs at your tease and carefully slides his rubber-coated dick along your slick to use as lube before sliding into your warmth. Choso lets himself stay there for a moment and also allows you to adjust to his intrusion. You hold onto the man’s shoulders as he rubs your sides soothingly.

“You okay?” he whispers.

“Mhm, just need a second,” you mumble back.

“Just tell me when, I'll move slow.”

After a few moments of waiting, you nod. Choso moves his hips forward to be fully inside you, mumbling an apology when your nails dig into his skin. He waits again for your nod, which doesn’t come for a while. When it does, he slowly moves back until he is almost fully out of you, then slides back in, angling up just a bit to graze along your g-spot.

The gasp it elicits from you makes him dizzy. It's like he magically got drunk during dinner because you're constantly making him so light-headed with every little thing you do. He gradually picks up the pace and his hips now move a bit faster, the angle he's been at making you just as dizzy as he is.

Soft moans fill the room, as well as his quiet grunts and the squeak of his bed. The bed frame makes quiet thumps against the wall that separates your apartment from his, so he's not worried about a noise complaint. He kisses marks against your chest and holds your hips firmly yet not hard enough to bruise.

“Oh, right there, yeah, y-yeah, feels so good, Choso.” your breathless whispers mix with your moans.

“Feels good?” he repeats and smiles against your skin.

“Mhm-- fuck --feels amazing…”

He groans and continues his gradual increase in thrusts, eyes rolling back at how responsive you get. Your soft mewls drive him absolutely insane as he moves even faster inside you and spreads your legs wider (if even possible). Your nails dig even deeper into his shoulders, clawing at his back because he just feels so good, and he’s just so deep, it is just so right.

He can feel just how close you are and it's driving him nuts. He needs to feel you cum around him, and needs to know how it feels, he's been dreaming of this moment without even realizing it. But he can tell you still need something to help you teeter over the edge. He carefully rubs your clit with his thumb, not going too fast and not going too slow to keep you from orgasm. And he talks you through it the whole time.

“Gotta cum for me, pretty girl, I need you to cum. Yeahhh, I know-- fuck --know you're close, just let go f’me, okay? That's it, good fucking girl-- fuck, you squeeze so tight…”

You climax with a moan of his name and your nails drag along his back, legs squeezing around him and shaking slightly. He continues to thrust, the intervals becoming sloppy as he reaches his own orgasm, hips finally stilling when he overstimulated himself.

Choso carefully pulls out of you and kisses your forehead, moving your hair that is stuck to it out of the way. He grins and kisses your cheeks and lips as he slides the condom off his softening cock.

“You’re so perfect,” he whispers against your skin. “Ready to shower?”

“Hold me for a little before we do,” you whine.

He chuckles and lays beside you, holding you on top of him and running his hand along your back. Choso's hand traces shapes into your hips as your head leans on his chest. His lips gently and repeatedly press against your forehead as he whispers praises to you.

“You are such an angel, so gorgeous and sweet, even when you're a tease…”

“Mhmm,” you hum back, too tired to actually form a reply.

“And you're just so fucking perfect, I love it.”

When he doesn't hear your half-reply and instead only hears your soft breathing, he smiles and carefully pulls the blanket over you. Choso, however, gets out of bed and showers, putting on fresh boxers before warming a bath up for you. He re-enters his room and carefully scoops you up, smiling softly when you wake up but don't really protest the bath.

Choso lathers your body carefully in some soap you had bought him as a neighborly welcome gift when he and Yuji moved in. You just sit in the tub and relax.

“Tired?” he mumbles.

“Yeah, I was almost asleep…”

“I wanted to get you clean before you slept. Can't be too upset.”

“Interrupting my beauty sleep, how rude.” you joke and poke your tongue out.

“Come on, you can return as soon as I dry you off.” he laughs and rinses your body.

“Fine, but you have to make me breakfast tomorrow.”

“Of course, I planned on that anyway.”

He dries you off and gives you some boxers and his t-shirt to sleep in, then lays in bed with you. You cuddle into him and Choso smiles while holding you even closer.

“You know you're most likely gonna be sore tomorrow, yeah?”

“Probably, but it was so worth it in the moment.”

You both laugh and Choso kisses your head. “Get some sleep.”

“Mkay,” you mumble and quickly fall asleep, quiet breathing filling the room. He could get used to this.

Taglist: @samaraxmorgan @cherriee-ee @auor4 @chaotic-ish @meowsannie

@mediokerrv @flooftoof @dazaisfavgf @mysteriaqueen @theirlgarfield

[ghostgirl-22]

what was patrick’s reaction to seeing art in his skimpy briefs for the first time? 👀 he’s only ever seen him in baggy boxers so how do you think he’d react seeing art’s thighs and ass in those panties?

Oh he definitely went crazy…

CW: 18+ !NSFW!

—-

Patrick’s sneaking into their hotel room because he woke up to a message on his phone saying: come now Lily’s still sleeping. Luckily enough he was hard when he woke up. Well that wasn’t so much luck as it was a day ending in y.

Tashi smiles at him, easing her panties back on as he walks in. It’s all she’s wearing, black lace panties and she pulls a grey t-shirt over her head.

“Wait, no…you guys couldn’t wait for me,” Patrick says exasperated, tugging at her t-shirt and pulling her close to him.

Arts lying on his side, slightly flushed under the blankets staring at them.

“We texted you 20 minutes ago,” Tashi says.

“I just woke up. First thing I did was brush my teeth and come over.” Patrick looks her over, she’s glowing. Beauty that takes his breath away especially when she’s this close, full lips that look so soft and her doe eyes gazing at him. He kisses her, he can’t help himself and as her lips part for him, he eases his tongue inside. She pulls back curling her manicured fingers into his hair.

“Give me a minute I’ll be right back and then we can— you know,” she says.

“Where are you going?”

“My mom called, I’m gonna take Lily over there and then I’ll be back.”

Patrick glances back at Art, he’s still laying there, chewing his bottom lip.

“I should’ve slept in here, no text was gonna wake me up after that fucking grueling match.” He grumbles.

“It’s too confusing,” Tashi sighs. “We introduced you as Uncle Patrick. And her other uncles don’t sleep with mommy and daddy.”

Patrick grins. He knows it’s not appropriate but he loves when they refer to themselves as mommy and daddy. He sighs and attempts to slide his fingers inside her, her panties are already soaked.

“I said… wait,” She bats him off playfully and he licks his finger tips.

“Mmkay mommy,” he smirks and she rolls her eyes. A million years later he’s never forgotten the way she tastes, it melts like candy on his tongue. “You should’ve told her I’m scared of the dark and need mommy and daddy to protect me.” Patrick says.

“Yeah, tell her that and there would’ve been four of us in bed.” Art says, coolly.

“Exactly,” Tashi says. She grabs a pair of jeans that were draped over the chaise lounge and steps into them. Patrick still can’t believe that she’s real. That any of this is real.

Tashi leaves the bedroom and Patrick lingers a moment, pondering whether to come back later or stay. He still hasn’t talked to Art. Not in the way they should. He would have fucked them both last night if he could, but they were both too busy being mommy and daddy and daughter and son in law while they all went out for a celebratory dinner so Patrick was forced to be on his best behavior.

Art rolls over to look at his phone, he’s stretching out on the bed and that’s when Patrick gets a peek.

His ass in tight little briefs.

That was never Art’s thing before but now he’s all grown up. And good god did he grow up. Instead of boxers he’s all packed into that slutty barely there fitted underwear.

Patrick rubs himself idly through his boxers as Art turns back to look at him. “So this has to be your dream come true?” Art says.

“Uh huh,” Patrick says distractedly, thinking Art must be talking about his ass in those panties. Now that Arts on his back, the blanket no longer covering him, Patrick can see the line of his cock in the briefs. He’s not entirely hard but he isn’t soft either.

“This works out just perfectly for you,” Art continues dryly, oblivious to the way Patrick is fixated on him. “You get to keep fucking my wife and now all I get is to know when your doing it. Maybe this was your plan all along.”

“Sure,” Patrick smirks, he’s not really listening to him. The words he’s saying. It just nonsense. None of it stings the way it did 48 hours ago in the sauna when Patrick simultaneously wanted to fuck him and fuck him up. Now it just sounds like meaningless words in his familiar know-it-all lilt.

All while Art’s body is making so much noise. His thighs, creamy white contrasting with the dark blue underwear, peeking out from beneath the blanket. Solid, toned, just like his perfect fucking abs. Patrick wants to bite at the cut of his waist. He’s so clean shaven Patrick knows he won’t find much hair there if any, when he gets those fucking briefs off. Maybe he doesn’t want to take them off. Maybe he wants to push them to the side, suck him off while they're still on. Hear Art moan as they’re pulled too tight squeezing his balls.

“You know you can’t just get rid of me that easily.” Art is still talking, talking, talking.

“Uh huh,” Patrick climbs on the bed.

“Like even if she likes you more I’m still her husband. And I beat you yesterday which means—”

”What?” Patrick asks, pulling the blanket down so everything is exposed. “What does it mean?”

“It means— w-what are you doing?” Art asks.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“She’s— she’s probably talking to her mom, she’ll be back in a minute.”

“Yeah I know,” Patrick nudges his thighs. Art’s cheeks are suddenly blooming with color. “Is that all you wear when you go to sleep? Hm?” Patrick asks, softly.

“I uh— some nights.”

“It’s so—“ Patrick pulls at the briefs trying to get a good look inside.

“Patrick.” Art breathes, pushing his hands away. But he’s going from kinda hard to the fabric stretching so far it’s just barely able to contain him.

“What? I hear you Art. Blah blah blah. It’s my dream come true that I get to fuck your wife. Blah blah blah. I can’t get rid of you. You think I want to get rid of you? You really think that’s what I fucking want? That I’ve been waiting over a decade just to get rid of you.”

Art’s staring at him. He’s trying to go for confusion but his eyes are hooded. His chest is heaving.

“Does she fuck you like a slut?” Patrick asks gently, Art takes a breath and tries to look away but Patrick touches him again which makes him push back.

“God look at you,” Patrick sighs. Art’s gripping the sheets next to him, the flush has spread down to his chest. He looks like he belongs in a museum. Something too beautiful to touch. It just makes Patrick more eager to take him apart.

“You walk around in those and you’re really gonna pretend she’s never fucked you?” Patrick continues. “Or that in all those years since we kissed, in all those locker rooms filled with hot naked boys you’ve never let anyone just… slip it in.”

Art shivers. “I mean—just because I— it doesn’t mean I’m— it only happened when—-” The know-it-all tone has been replaced by silly attempts to figure out how to tell Patrick the truth or what the appropriate lie might sound like. Patrick rubs him through the cotton till he’s pitched a bit higher. Teases where the fabric has started to dampen with his precum and Art’s stammered words turn into full bodied moans.

Drunk with the sound Patrick moves to start mouthing the outline of his cock through the fabric of the briefs. Breathing him in, tasting him while he continues to palm him and rub him off.

“Oh god, Patrick. oh my god,” Art loses it moments later, moving his hips, moaning like a cat in heat. It’s ridiculous how quickly it happens. Patrick is throbbing in his boxers as he sits back to watch. Gently rubbing as Art comes all over the briefs. The wet spot expanding wider and wider. Art bucks his hips helplessly in the after shocks as more and more spurts out. Soon it’s so much come it’s soaking through in a way that’s just fucking obscene. Patrick makes a mental note to get the briefs off and pocket them, the way he’s done with women’s panties in the past.

“Mm,” Art sighs. He doesn't even have the decency to look ashamed when he’s all done. He just climbs on Patrick’s lap and starts kissing him. Like it’s this thing he’s always wanted to do but never felt like he had permission until now. He takes a minute to rub his face against Patrick’s cheeks like he just wants to feel the hair there. It’s actually kind of adorable. But Patrick can also taste Tashi all over Art’s lips which is actually kind of… filthy.

Patrick ruts into him, a few times, not even on purpose, it just happens because he’s so fucking hard. Art seems to take the hint. He starts grinding. Patrick’s lap, his mouth, his brain is all full of Art. Only the thin fabric of his boxers and the briefs are keeping Patrick out. It’s so juvenile and yet so fucking hot, letting Art ride him like this. He must have done this before. Patrick just knows he’s been fucked before. The way he’s humping and moaning like a little fucking slut.

Patrick’s muscles still ache distantly from the way they played yesterday and the ache feels so delicious. It’s enough to bring Patrick over the edge.

“Mm fuck,” he groans in Art’s ear, stilling as wave overtakes him. Art hums, moving his hips a little slower.

“Oh fuck,” Patrick says again breathlessly. He takes Art’s face in his hands and Art grins at him. “Yeah… speaking of my dream come true,” Patrick whispers. Art licks his lips before Patrick kisses him again.

[writerfromshikahr]

Because Illario can't help himself flirt with Rook and I had to use "that line" to start a little piece.

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

Enough, Illario (Part 1) - Lucanis X Rook Fanfic

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

"You know, de Riva, you chose the wrong Dellamorte."

Rook's eyebrow arched. "Is that so? I wasn't aware I had chosen one at all."

Lucanis shot him a look.

"I'm charming, clearly more handsome, and the things I can do to you—" Illario started, but Lucanis kicked him under the café table, making him jolt in his chair.

"That's enough, cousin," Lucanis said quietly.

"What?! We're just having a little fun. Always so serious, Lucanis."

"We are here to discuss Crow business, not inflate your already overstuffed ego. This is why your contracts always go wrong."

Illario smirked. "Sometimes wrong feels better." He winked at Rook.

"I'd prefer not to die anytime soon, yeah..." Rook replied flatly.

"See? Even Rook doesn't fall for your idiotic charm."

"Yet..." Illario added with a sly grin. "I have never failed to bed a Crow I fancy."

"Aww, how sweet. Well, you can call me your first disappointment then," she shot back.

Lucanis spat his coffee back into his cup, trying to stifle a laugh.

"I love a challenge from a beautiful woman," Illario smirked.

Rook's lips curved into a mischievous smile as she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "Oh, I wouldn't call it a challenge. More like an impossibility."

Illario's eyes gleamed with amusement, clearly undeterred. "Impossibility? You wound me, mi amada. Surely you can't deny the allure of an irresistible man like myself."

Lucanis shot his cousin a pointed glare. "The only thing irresistible about you is your ability to ruin a meeting. Maybe focus on that talent instead."

Rook chuckled, her laugh soft and utterly unbothered by Illario's relentless flirting. "Lucanis does have a point. If your jobs are anything like your attempts to flirt, I can see why they might go sideways."

Illario placed a dramatic hand over his chest, pretending to be mortally offended. "You both wound me! And here I thought Antivan Crows were meant to appreciate style and finesse."

Lucanis sighed, clearly done with the conversation but unwilling to abandon the sharp amusement tugging at his lips. "Your version of 'style' belongs in a tavern, Illario, not at a Crow meeting."

Illario choked on his drink. "By the Maker, you two deserve each other. So serious, so sharp-tongued—it's no wonder you're not fun at parties."

"At least we leave them alive," Rook quipped.

Lucanis coughed to disguise the laugh threatening to escape, while his cousin sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Fine, fine. I can tell when I'm not appreciated."

"Can you?" Lucanis muttered under his breath, earning him another laugh from Rook.

Illario wagged a finger at both of them. "One day, Rook, you'll regret underestimating my charms and all I can offer, in the bedroom and on a contract."

"Not likely," Rook replied smoothly, before turning her attention to Lucanis.

Illario leaned closer to her, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "You know, de Riva, a woman like you deserves someone who truly appreciates her. Someone who knows how to make you..."

Lucanis placed his coffee cup down just a little harder than necessary. "Enough, Illario."

"Touchy," he replied, grinning wider as he turned back to Rook. "But I understand. He’s always been the brooding type and never shares his feelings."

"And here I thought assassins were supposed to be elusive and guarded. Unlike you," she replied, her eyes darting briefly toward Lucanis, catching the flicker of tension in his expression.

"Don't worry, if subtlety ever bores you, you know where to find me."

"Careful, Illario," she replied, her tone sharp but amused. "Keep pushing, and Lucanis might decide to silence you for good."

He grinned, clearly enjoying himself. "Ah, but then he’d have to admit why he did it, and we couldn't have that now, could we, cousin?"

"Sometimes incrimination is worth the risk." Lucanis said into his coffee, taking a long, thoughtful sip.

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

Part 2 can be found HERE

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

[loganhowlettshousewife]

lazy mornings and the proposal

animal - bonus headcanons

friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.

i wanted to let everyone know that even with the epilogue coming out soon and the series being officially over, i'm still not ready to let go of these two. so if you have any ideas or prompts or questions about feral!logan feel free to submit an ask!

warnings: mentions of sex, light sweat kink (oops)

series masterlist │my masterlist

there’s nothing better than a lazy morning with logan, staying in bed long past sunrise, chasing the warmth that can be found in each others arms. it’s rare, these days, now that he’s gotten a job as a lumberjack and has to be up fairly early most mornings for work, making sure to wake you before he leaves, kissing you deeply and reminding you that he loves you. gone are the days where the two of you would stay home together, locked in your own little world with no one to bother you.

he’d wanted - no, he’d needed, really- to get a job. it gave him something to do with his days, a purpose other than stalking your every move, following behind you like a shadow as you went about your day. it’s a distraction, and a welcome one, one that gives him the opportunity to be a more balanced version of himself, to find peace and trust that you aren’t going to disappear if he leaves you out of his sight for more than a few seconds.

he brings home a decent paycheck, much more than you were making by selling the extra produce from your garden. it’s unnecessary, everything you own had once belonged to your grandparents and has long been paid off, but it’s nice to have the extra cash, to be able to go into town with logan and splurge on expensive alcohol for him and gorgeous new dresses for you.

he’s good at what he does, hacking away at wood with his unnatural strength given to him by his mutation. he’s the best at what he does, to the point where you occasionally worry it’s become too obvious that he’s not like the others, but he always comes home safe.

the smell of wood and sweat cling to him like a second skin and you bury your face in his neck, understanding his obsession with doing the same to you, loving the way the smell of him surrounds you, makes you feel like he’s the only thing in the world. maybe it should be gross, he’s exerted himself all day and is covered by the proof of it, but there’s something about it that makes you melt into him every time.

he takes off his muddy shoes and picks you up, ignoring your squeal of protest at the unexpected gesture, smirks when you wrap your legs around his waist. he brings you into your bedroom to take the stress of his day out on your body or into the bathroom where you run your hands over his bare skin and wash away anything that isn’t your loving touch. either way, the tension leaves him the moment he’s returned to you, able to recognise that you’re safe.

you love the life you’ve built, the ease and comfort of it, and yet those lazy mornings, so few and far between, are still your favourite. the days where logan doesn't have to go into work and you push back your daily chores for later because you would much prefer to stay snuggled up in bed, laughing as he kisses your neck and bare shoulders, twinning your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

the night he proposes starts off like any other. he returns home from work to the smell of dinner in the oven, takes you apart under the warm stream of water from the showerhead beating down on your skin, lets you wash away the grime from his body and dig your hands into the tense muscles of his back, massaging away the day’s activities. he melts into you, letting you care for him in a way he’d never let anyone else, and you smile beatifically.

when you exit the shower, it’s to the sound of the oven timer going off, announcing that the dinner you’d prepared for the two of you is ready. you hardly notice when logan doesn’t follow you out of the bathroom and into the kitchen as usual - some days he returns from a long day on the job and refuses to leave your side, on others he needs moments of solitude peppered in to keep the overstimulation at bay.

he stops in your shared bedroom as you plate the food, giving logan double your portion size as usual.

his body requires more energy to function, his healing factor taking a lot out of him. it’s not something logan ever noticed, since he doesn’t bother to worry about his own health most of the time, but you see the way it affects him when he doesn’t eat the way he should. it’s horribly taxing on his body, making his veins protrude from his skin in harsh lines, a reminder that no matter how easy it is to ignore it when looking at his muscular and imposing stature, his body is still starving.

you’ve made it your mission to feed him, and so you narrow your eyes into a glare until he finishes his plate, leaning over afterwards to kiss the annoyance from your lips, muttering praises and thanks that have your skin tingling and face feeling hot. 

he’s healthier now, a layer of fat covering his muscles, a softness to his body that wasn’t there before. it’s something you pride yourself on, the knowledge that you’re taking good care of him.

he doesn’t talk much throughout dinner, though he never does. you tell him about the latest book you’ve started reading, going back and forth on whether or not you’re truly enjoying it, complaining about the characters personalities while raving about the writing style. it makes logan smile, watching you be so passionate.

he gives you a few vague sentences about his day at work when you press him about it. “it’s not that interesting,” he says, the same excuse he gives every day. occasionally, he’ll have some gossip to share about the men he works with, his enhanced hearing allowing him to listen to their conversations without being forced to partake in them, but not today. “would much rather listen to you talk, darlin’.”

with desert in front of you and a peaceful lull in they conversation he takes your hand, kisses the back of it with his slightly chapped lips before getting down on one knee and pulling out the ring he’d bought a few weekends ago while you perused the farmer’s market stalls. it’s not big or flashy, the night is hardly out of the ordinary in any way, but it’s perfect. your eyes prick with tears that you attempt to hold back but fall anyway the moment you blink.

this is what makes yours and logan’s relationship, the understanding that there’s no need to be anything but yourselves, that as long as he’s here promising to love you forever, pleading you to do the same, there’s nothing else that could come close to matching the joy in your heart as you say yes.

taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams @babey-fruit-bat @meetmypointlessaddiction @kneelforloki @deaky-with-a-c @hypermarvellove @littlepeanut03 @the-ruler-of-death @aliengutzstuff @misscrissfemmefatale @mynamesstevenwithav @teaganthemorningstar @blackkatzz @leryg0 @fries11 @forksloree @i5uckersblog @dragovegogrimborn @quillycrow @melday0105 @just-a-little-cellist @scorpiosaintt @akasha157-blog @insanesosciopath @eridektbh @trickstergabriel69 @lord-bingus666

[jadewritesficshere]

Eddie x fem!reader (reader wears lingerie, no other descriptions of reader given except mentioning hitting that spot just right)

Contents: lingerie, both are a lil pervy tbh, humiliation, crying, praise kink, sub!Eddie, this is literally just horny ramblings

18+ only

It wasn't every day you came back to your house and your best friend had broken in. Maybe, every other week at best.

Usually, Eddie would be high eating your snacks (you were thinking about getting a lock for the cabinets). Or he would be watching whatever show you recorded and tease you about spoiling it (you threatened to use the VHS to beat him over the head and strangle him with the VHS ribbon if he did).

But, you had no clue Eddie was even in your house today. His van wasn't parked in your driveway when you came home. His shoes weren't in a haphazard pile at the front door. You had 0 clue he was there.

Not until you heard a thump coming from your bedroom. Which, your first thought went to the knickknacks you had that someone could be stealing (they wouldn't cause to a normal person it was junk but to you they were memories).

You grabbed a knife from the kitchen (you weren't gonna die without a fight, besides you learned a thing or two from the horror movies Eddie made you watch). You quietly pushed your bedroom door open and-

Shit.

Eddie was standing in your room in front of your mirror. Miles of pale skin just on display, scattered with contrasting dark tattoos he had. Nothing on, save for your lilac lingerie.

The palest purple lace bra, you can see from the back isn't even clipped correctly, missing the hook entirely. But the color is striking on Eddie. The lace thong cuts high on Eddie's ass, and you try not to gawk at the little black heart tattooed on his cheek. Eddie's scars seem softer amongst the lace.

How often did Eddie do this? Come over and put on your lingerie? Stand in front of the mirror and rub his fingers over his one hardened nipple. You couldn't see from where you were, but you knew his cock was hard. He'd be leaking all over your underwear, marking them.

Eddie lets out a little moan and it ignites a fire in your gut. You lick you lips as you watch Eddie, which maybe makes you a pervert but really it is your house and he is wearing your clothes so if anyone is-

Fuck why is it so hot?

"So-" you clear your throat. Eddie let's out a screech (that you are pretty sure ruined your eardrums) as he whirls around. He tries to cover himself with his arms, curls in on himself. And Holy cow he is hard.

He is big, so big, the tip just peeking out of the waistband of the panties. You can see the pearly translucent precum already dripping onto the underwear.

"I- fuck, I'm aha listen I can exp- i can explain!" Eddie fumbles over his words. You blink a few times tearing your eyes away from his massive dick (oh it would feel so good it would hit every spot just right).

Eddie's face is red, tears welling up in his eyes. "Oh Baby, no," you rush over, pausing when Eddie flinches. You gently put a hand out on Eddie's shoulder, drawing him into a hug, " It's- it's okay. Please don't cry." "Don't hate me." You gasp in shock, pulling back to look in his eyes," I could never!"

Eddie's eyes are wet, filled with unshed tears. His nose is turning a bit red, from embarrassment, shame, or sadness you can't tell. But his cheeks are such a pretty pink you think it'd look nice elsewhere on his pale skin.

Eddie hides his face with his hair, shuffling his feet a bit. "So..." you pause unsure how to ask it politely so you just go for it," I can see this is a kink thing...but like, what kind?"

Eddie shrugs," Wanted to feel pretty..." You frown," You are pretty Eddie." Eddie shakes his head and gestures to his abdomen," Not with these."

Eddie really should not be drawing your eyes any further south then his face. Cause your pulse kicks up and the fire inside you lights back up your spine. You can't help but notice his dick is still hard as a rock.

"You are too pretty." "Not really." "Yes!" Not-" You shove Eddie lightly, causing him to stumble back and fall onto the bed. Eddie's eyes widen in shock as he peers up at you.

"Don't talk about my best friend that way! You are too pretty. And handsome. Funny. So talented," You sigh and step forward, into Eddie's parted legs. Eddie leans up on his elbows and blinks rapidly at you. "You're so fucking pretty Baby." You murmur, hand reaching out lightly touching his thigh.

Eddie let's out a whine before looking startled at himself. You can't help but notice his dick twitch under the pale purple lace. "You like being called pretty?" You smirk. "Like when you call me Baby," Eddie replies softly.

You aren't sure who moves first, but suddenly your arms are wrapped around each other. Your lips meet Eddie's without hesitation. His are slightly chapped but still soft, molding perfectly against your own.

You run your hand down Eddie's neck, to the pale bra strap and snap it. He gasps and you take the chance, slipping your tongue into his mouth. He tastes of weed, mint gum, and just Eddie.

Eddie moans against you, hips bucking forward seeking friction. You pull back, gasping for air. Eddie let's out a whine," No, come back-" "I ain't going anywhere Baby."

Eddie's eyes flutter shut as he bites his lip. He hums as you kiss his jaw, lightly nipping at his pulse point. He shivers against you, hips bucking forward again. You suck lightly as you decide to give him some relief.

Your hand snakes down, grasping him firmly. You lightly squeeze through the lace, giving just enough friction as you move your hand.

"Look so good in my lingerie Baby, you should wear it more often." You murmur between kisses. Eddie nods absently, gasping and moaning beneath you. "Got a red pair that has some nice straps, you'd look so metal and so so pretty."

Eddie freezes, mouth falling open. His brow wrinkles slightly as he moans, pleasure overtaking him. His hips spasm, even his thighs twitch, as he comes. You can feel your underwear get soaked along with part of his stomach.

You stroke him through it, extending his pleasure until he whimpers and pushes at your hand. You pull back, smiling softly at his face. Eddie's eyes flutter open, darting down to your lips. "Kiss?" He asks quietly, unsure. You simply smile and kiss him again.

[immortalityforthegoddess]

Hellooo!!♡ May i req for nsfw goo x reader? where goo is jealous and get mad (fr) bcs reader keeps being around gun until the reader has to spit out her safe words👀 the ending is up to your choice!! Thank u in advance and have a nice dayyy💛💓💛💓

Jealousy?

𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐆𝐨𝐨 𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

18+

Thank you so much love!

Also I wasn't sure what you ment by having to use the safe word so I just guessed😅

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 - 𝐒𝐞𝐱 - 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐀𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐀 - 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤 - 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤 - 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠? - 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤? - 𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 - 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞? - 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞

You and Goo went to a party, although you really didn't want to go, goo convinced you too. But half way through the night he had dispeared, leaving you alone, in a house full of strangers.

"Hey {Name}, where is Goo? You came with him, yea?", you turned your head around and sighed in relief, Gun. Finally a Fimiler face.

"Hey Gun, yea I came with Goo but-", "But he dispeared on you?", You sighed and rubbed the back of your head, " yea...yea he dispeared on me...", Gun wasn't good with emotions but he could tell it bothered that Goo had just wondered off.

"Wanna drink? My treat for Goo treating you so shitty.", you were surprised because Gun always to have seemed to dislike you, maybe you had red the guy wrong.

"Yea, that would be nice.",

And now here you were talking and laughing with Gun, well he was more so talking and you were laughing. But still it was nice, you were having such a fun time with Gun that you didn't seem to notice, Goo, who was just staring at you and Gun.

"By Gun! Be safe!", " Yup.", it had been a few hours and you spent the entire time with Gun, which was nice, but you hadn't seen a trance of Goo all night.

Which was weird because he was busy staring at you and glaring at Gun all night.

The party was dying down and everyone was going home, you went to go look for Goo, because you were tired and ready to go home as well. But didn't find him.

'Danm Goo, where the hell are you?', you kept thinking as you went through every bedroom in the house. You didn't find anything, I mean well you found a couple making out which was eww.

"Hey pretty thang, you lost?", you turn around a see some random dude, " No. Am not, thank you.", you tried walking away because you had a bad feeling about this dude but he grabbed your arm, "why such a rush?",

You tried yanking your hand away but his grip just got tighter, "Hey look man, am just trying to find my boyfriend-", "Boyfriend?"

The dude laughed and it sent a shiver down your spine, he than slammed you into a wall, "don't lie, who would date such a slut?" You gasped for air as he roughly pit his hand up your skirt and start rubbing you, through your panties.

"NO- S-STOP!-", you froze as blood splatterd on your face, you open your teary eyes to see the dude being beaten nearly to death by Goo, thank god.

The dude head had been slammed into the tile flooring, blood was everywhere. Goo got up and walked towards you, "are you oaky?", You looked at Goo, he seemed so...emotionaless as he asked.

You cried and ran into his arms, he held for a moment before picking you up.

-

-

You took deep breaths as you let the warm water hit your back, you kept sniffling and shacking, and the water wasn't even remotely cold.

You took a deep breath as you turned off the shower and grab a white towel, putting it around your waist, walking out of the rest room you were met with Goo.

Who was sitting on his chair, sharping his sword. This scared you, you had never seen him so emotionaless like this. Not in your 4 years together.

"G-Goo?", you called out, catching his attention immediately. He put his sword down and walked over to you, he stopped and look down at you for a moment, you could see anger in his eyes.

His eyes than seem to soften as he bent down and kissed you on your lips, you return it immediately. He bit your lip and you gasp and that sudden stinging pain.

Goo took his chance to slid his tough in, "Mmm~", was all you could muster as goo slid his hands up your lower body, landing on your waist. Gently tugging at the tower and it falling to the floor.

You gasp at the cold air that hit your body, his hands going up and down your now naked waist, goo stoped at your ass, and kept his hands there, he continued to explore your mouth he's been in many times beforehand. Just never getting enough.

You could feel your pussy get wet and clinch, god you loved this man so much. Finally the kiss broke, a silver of saliva from boths sides as goo kissed you again, grabbing your hair this time with his one hand as the went to your back, pushing your body into his.

He began to buck his hips back and forth, "G-GOO!~", you gasp, feeling his hard member, you could feel the wetness in your pussy. Goo stopped to catch his breath and yours. Gently walking you backwards. He turned you around, now your back facing him. He gently picked you up laying on the bed, on your stomach.

Goo didn't say a single word through out all of this, which is odd because he normally is very chatty during sex. You could feel him gently spread your legs, your checks flushed a red as goo bent over your nuded body to bite and kiss your earlobe.

Gently going down to your shoulder and leaving soft kisses every where he could, rubbing your sides, it felt so good and smoothing. That feeling didn't last long as suddenly his touch was gone.

One hand on the lower middle of your back, as the other was fiddling with his belt, goo threw his bt across the room, as he did so, taking off his shirt revealing his muscles and toned skin.

"Sweetheart is it okay what am about to do?", goo's voice spoke up, his hand on the zipper of his pants, you nodded. Goo didn't say anything else but unziping his pants.

You could feel him the tip of his member at your entrance. Goo very suddenly slammed into your pussy, making you flinch hard. "G-GOO!~", you moaned out loud as he began to thrust in and out of you.

Feeling his member slid in and out of your velvet walls, feeling his heavy balls slap against your cunt with every thrust. "A-AHHH~", was all you could get out.

"Damn whore, you like this uh?", goo said, as he abused your entrance. " Y-YE-YES!~ M-MRE~", was all you could muster as your face was head down in a pillow. "Fucking nasty slut dumb slut, spending the entire night with some other dude."

S-some random dude? Did he mean Gun? You felt a hot hand print slid across your ass. Goo grabbing your hair, as he thruster harder and faster. "Aaaaa~", you could feel his member inside your stomach, making a mess of your insides.

You felt a not form inside your tummy, before you could cum, goo took his dick out and flipped you on your back. Grabing your legs and putting them on his shoulders. "D-daddy~, I-i n-need to c-cum~", " shut it whore",

Goo slammed back inside your swollen entrance, making you scream in pleasure. One of goo's hands make it's way up your body and to your boobs, "mmM~". Goo began touching your nipples, squeezing your boobs.

The not in your stomach grows as he keeps slamming in and out of your walls, making your other juice's go everywhere. You could feel how close you were, "g-GOO, am c-cuming-", goo looked up to your teared stayed eyes and with one finally blow realeased his seed inside of you. You came right after goo. Moaning the entire time.

Gently taking his member out of your abused hole, the juices came flowing out of you once he did, he lay beside you. "...you ever neglect me again and I'll shove an entire ass baby inside you." Goo said, as he climbed on top of you and bending down to suck on your neck. "O-OH!-, o-ok goo~".

Goo began to leave hickeys as his hand travel down your waist to your pussy.

Goo gently started to rubbed between your legs, once he noticed the blood down there because of him. You moaned, bucking your hips into his hand, him sliding a finger inside your already bleeding hole. Him gently Sisering your insides.

Tired and warn out already knowing goo would take good care of you, you fell asleep with goo's fingers still inside you. Goo notices you fell asleep but keeps touching you. Playing with your tits and touching your bloodied pussy.

Awhileater and goo takes his fingers out of you and stopeds abusing your poor boobs. Getting up and walking into the restroom, leaving your sleeping, used body as he starts a warm bath.

Walking back into the room be looks down at you. Your pussy was swollen so badly it puffed out, as blood leaked out. Your hips were red and probably very sore from his tight grip. Your boobs bruised and nipples swollen. Your neck different shades of dark purple and red.

You were very used and goo loved the sight. He loved the sight so much he grabed his phone and took a pitcher of you in this state. Even going in between your legs to get a pitcher of your abused, bleeding pussy.

He can't lie, breeding you was so much fucking fun. He adored the noises you make. He loves the thoughts of you being heavily pregnant with his child. You weren't ever allowed to leave him. He'll break you and force a child inside, he doesn't care if you begged him to stop or pleaded.

your his and only his.

Putting his phone down and picking you up, walking inside the restroom, gently laying in the tub. He kissed your neck,

God he fucking loved you.

[untildawnss]

until dawn characters overhearing their partner saying something negative about them/their relationship

just a few short drabbles about the characters' weaknesses or worse traits and how they might react to hearing a partner talking about it. and wow, this actually took a while.

kind of angsty, but the endings of most of these are kind of open for interpretation

ashley

"i don't know, i just feel like we're stuck sometimes. we're not really doing anything. it's getting kind of boring."

ashley stopped dead in front of the door to your living room. she had wanted to spend a quiet evening at home with you, like you usually did on fridays but evidently you'd had other plans. and you obviously hadn't expected her to get home early. she flexed her hands, once, twice, and opened the door. the room went quiet, you and your friends looked at ashley. "babe, you're home." you smiled, not sure whether or not ashley had heard you. "sit down, i'm gonna get you a glass of wine." you patted the couch next to you. "no thanks. i think i'd rather go and be boring," ashley grabbed her laptop from the coffee table, "in the bedroom. alone."

beth

"seriously, her sister is over all the time. i know, i know they're twins and they're close and everything but i feel like aoutsider in my own relationship sometimes because she never says no to her family and i get the short end of the stick."

beth heard your voice drifting through the open window. you were on the patio, on the phone with your best friend while hanging out the laundry. beth was in your bedroom on the floor above, changing the sheets. are you fucking kidding me? beth sucked her teeth. she knew that you knew that she'd always been the most mature and stable of the washington siblings and that they were super close. "you know," she leaned out of the window. you looked up at her, startled. "you're my family, too. and i never say no to you." - "you heard that?" you groaned. "uh, yeah, me and like the entire neighbourhood. so what's wrong with me and hannah hanging out? it's only once a week." - "nothing, it'd just be nice to be included every once in a while." beth smiled widely at you. "aw, i didn't know you wanted to hang out with us. you should have told me."

chris

"he's always doing something on his phone, sending josh some stupid video or planning another dumbass prank with him. sometimes i think he stopped maturing past the age of 16."

you heard the front door close. apparently you had missed the jingling of chris' keys while you were busy looking for a salad bowl in the kitchen. "cool, didn't know you thought that way about me." chris dropped a plastic bag on your kitchen counter. "i brought dinner, got your favourite. thought i'd come over and we could hang out, maybe watch a movie or something. but it seems like you're busy." you had turned around to face him. "chris, i didn't mean it like that. i'm sorry." he was already on his way to the door. "no, you did." - "fine, maybe i did. but it doesn't mean that i don't love you. where are you going?" he was standing in the doorway, doing fingerguns at you. "josh's place. because i'm immature like that." the door closed and you pulled out your phone. can we talk about this? you walked back to the kitchen, the smell of your favourite food filling the room. thank you for dinner. - let's talk tomorrow, like adults?

emily

"emily wants this, emily wants that. emily gets what she wants, whenever she wants. it's all about her. i think she's her own favourite person in the world and everyone else are background characters for her enjoyment."

emily's phone pinged when she received the voice message. it was intended for your best friend but you had misclicked when opening the chat without realising it. she smiled when she saw your name on the screen and eagerly tapped on the little arrow to play the message. oh. the message wasn't for her. but you had thought of her alright. was she really that bad? her phone pinged again. don't listen to that. too late, she thought. i'm sorry, i didn't mean that. but you did, she knew. because she knew she was a bitch sometimes. because she knew that she had been selfish. no, you're right. she texted back. can i have a second chance?

hannah

"can you believe it? we had a fight and now she's packing her stuff to go sleep at her sister's place. she's blowing it out of proportion. talk about overreacting. everything is drama with her."

hannah had texted her siblings to come pick her up while she was throwing clothes and toiletries into a bag. whatever you were fighting about had escalated, both of you were to blame for that. but now you couldn't even wait until she was out of the house to talk shit about her? absolutely not. she knew she was sensitive but calling her dramatic was unfair. if she stayed, neither of you would sleep tonight. both of you needed to calm down. so naturally, hannah had called her twin sister and asked if she could stay with her for a few days. and naturally, beth had gotten in her car. the place was just too small for both of you to try to avoid each other after an argument. hannah was trying to give you space but sure, she was the one overreacting, not you in the living room, knowing full well that she could hear you. "you know what? if everything's drama with me, maybe i'll do you a favour and move out." hannah zipped up her bag and made her way to the front door. she heard a clatter as you dropped your phone. "what?" hannah was putting on her shoes now. "i said," she removed the butterfly keychain from her set of keys before putting them back. "i'm moving out. we're done." she walked out of the apartment and got into beth's car.

jess

"ugh, sometimes a part of me wants to shake her and ask her to just act like a normal human being. she's not perfect, so why does she pretend to be?"

last you checked jess was in the shower for her "self care day" ritual. that usually took a while, so you put in your earphones and called a friend while you were in the kitchen preparing dinner. you had jokingly complained that her long showers would drive up the water bill because she just had to keep up that image, that she was driving herself crazy competing with no one but her own ego. you hung up when you put the dish in the oven to clean up, maybe see if jess was done in the shower and have a pre-dinner glass of wine. you walked out of the kitchen and stepped right into a small puddle in the hall. ew, wet sock. "jess, can you leave the water in the shower next time?" you walked towards the bathroom and opened the door. jess was standing there in her underwear, a towel wrapped around her head and staring at her reflection. "hey. dinner's almost ready. you want a glass of wine?" she turned around to look at you. "do you think i'm vain?" her question took you by surprise. "what?" - "do you think i'm vain? i heard you talking about me and i want to know if you think i'm vain." she looked like she was about to cry. "jess, babe, no that wasn't what i meant. it's just- you try so hard all the time but you don't even need to. i love you just the way you are. you can be a little high maintenance, though." she sighed. "i know i'm not perfect-" - "you don't need to be." - "but can i still have that glass of wine?"

josh

"i feel like his caretaker sometimes. take your meds, take care of yourself, go to bed at a reasonable hour, don't drink too much, blah blah blah. i'm so over it. at one point he has to start living for himself and not just because everyone else bends over backwards for him."

you hung up the phone and turned up the TV's volume. when you went into the kitchen to get a drink, josh was there. "hey, when did you get home?" - "while ago," he shrugged. "why didn't you say anything?" you opened the fridge, looking for something you're in the mood for. water, or maybe some wine. "heard the TV, wasn't really in the mood for that." josh tapped his heel against the cupboard behind him. "okay. you want anything?" you pointed at the contents of the fridge. "wouldn't want to be a burden." he turned his head to look at you. "wouldn't want you bending over backwards to take care of me." he clenched his teeth. "yeah, i heard that, too." you let go of the fridge door and it closed slowly. "josh, i-" you started, trying to find something to say. "it's okay. i know i'm not always the easiest person to be around. but i'm trying, i'm getting better." you reached out to touch his hand but he pulled back. "i called chris. he's coming to pick me up." - "oh, okay. when are you coming back?" - "i don't think i should."

matt

"it's like matt doesn't even have any opinions of his own. he always just agrees with me. i don't think he has made a single decision in his life, ever."

it had been a week since matt had read your message. he had been using your laptop because he had forgotten his at home and your devices were connected. he hadn't planned on reading it but saw that it was about him. he hadn't even told his sisters or ashley about it and they were usually his go to people. maybe he was bad at making decisions. he hadn't decided how to handle this situation, anyway. yeah, you'd noticed that he had pulled away and asked him if something was wrong but he had made up an excuse about an assignment he had to turn in. he was still thinking about whether to ignore that he had seen the message or try to talk to you about it when you, once again, made a decision for him. his doorbell rang and when he opened the door, there you were, smiling at him. "hey, thought i'd come over. you're done with that assignment, right? can i come in?" maybe he'd finally make a decision. "actually, no. i don't think we should see each other anymore." your face dropped. "what? why? what happened?" - "guess i'm just making a decision for the first time in my life, ever. we're over."

mike

"he's such a fucking macho sometimes. i can literally not do anything without him swooping in and taking over because he thinks he's god's gift to humanity or something. right now he's putting up a shelf because he didn't think i could handle it. it's my place."

you were in your bedroom, sending a voice message to one of your friends. mike had finished putting up the shelf and was about to knock on your bedroom door to ask you if you wanted to grab something to eat when he realised you were talking about him. wow. guess you really needed to get that off your chest. he'd always thought he was just being helpful by offering to do stuff for you. was he really that overbearing? was he a macho? mike had always thought you were grateful when you accepted his help but maybe he'd misinterpreted the way you smiled at him earlier. it did look forced but he thought it was just the stress of moving. before he could move the door opened and you were face to face with him. "mike! were you eavesdropping?" - "not on purpose! but you were kind of yelling." he shrugged. "didn't realise you thought that i was such an ass. didn't realise i was being an ass." - "you're not an ass, just-" you started. "god's gift to humanity?" he said, pretending to fix an invisible halo. "i'm sorry, i promise i will stop swooping in and taking over and wait until you ask me for help. if you still want me."

sam

"we barely spend any time together. she's always doing something, hanging out with her friends, going climbing, running or swimming. are we even in a relationship anymore or just roommates? i don't even know where she is right now."

sam was right above you, watering the plants at the top of the stairs when you walked in. you were probably talking to a family member or a friend. about her. she wasn't sure if she should say something or not. she had continued watering the same plant while listening to your conversation and the water was overflowing now. it reached her feet and soaked through her sock. "crap." downstairs she heard you mutter a quick goodbye before you called through the house. "sam? are you home?" - "yeah, i'm here." she called back from the bathroom, looking for one of the ratty towels you used for spills. you had kicked off your shoes and were walking up the stairs. "don't move, i accidentally drowned gilbert." all the plants had names. sam emerged from the bathroom and threw the towel on the ground, swiping it around with her foot to wipe up the spill. "i didn't know you were home. did you, uh, hear me just now?" sam was staring at you. "yeah," she admitted. "i don't want us to be over. but i don't want to give up who i am, either." you nodded. "i know. compromise?" sam nodded back at you. "we can try."

[puppycak3s]

Please | a Soft!Dom Husband James Sunderland x Reader

Cw: domestic, lil bit of angst but it gets resolved, soft dom to desperate kinda subby, PinV, writted with afab anatomy in mind but no gendered terms are really used, marking, reconnecting, so many love bombs, breeding, hand guiding, use of daddy but in a "you're gonna be the father of my kids" typa way, so feral for dadbod james (what who said that ashsh)🫶

"Missed you" you breathed against him, arms tightening over him in a protective embrace.

His arms faltered in shock. He wasn't expecting you to rush him in a hug the second he came through the bedroom door. When he left you had been sound asleep. He chuckled a bit, smoothing your hair down as he returned your embrace.

"I missed you too honey"

he kissed the top of your head.

"I wasn't gone that long was I? I was just dropping Laura off at school, I thought I had told you earlier."

His voice was sympathetic and soothing, he hated to worry you, he swore he had told you the day before. Maybe you had forgotten. Maybe he should have woken you before he left, but you looked so damned peaceful all wrapped up in the covers. He couldn't bear to. You trembled against him, wearing only your pajamas as you had sprung out of bed the moment you heard the door click. Of course he noticed, breaking from the embrace to look at you.

"Hey, hey it's okay sweetie, everything's alright. Laura's safe and I'm here."

He shushed you as he led you back to your shared bed.

"You've got to be freezing, poor thing, let's get you under the covers, c'mon sweetheart."

He sat next to you as he draped the duvet around your shoulders, mattress creaking slightly under his weight. You shivered and trembled next to him. His brows furrowed in worry.

"Baby is everything-" he was cut off by you climbing into his lap, blanket falling off your shoulders as you nestled into his chest. He let out an amused laugh, as he wrapped his arms around you again, holding you close to him.

"Missed you" you repeated into his shirt.

He sighed as he rubbed your back in comforting circles.

"I know honey, I know."

"Need you" you said softly, muffled by the fabric.

He scoffed playfully.

"Need me? I'm right here honey"

he moved you back a bit to look at you.

  "Hey, what's the matter hm?"

You stared at him, your eyes were glassy and dialated as you blinked up at him. He could almost swear he saw something in them, but he couldn't quite make it out. You breathed out sharply, as you repositioned yourself, straddling his hips. His mouth opened a bit in surprise as his eyes drifted down. Down to where your pj pants were pressed against his slacks. The thin material did nothing to hide the steady heat emanating from between your legs.

"Sweetheart?"

He said a bit breathlessly. He was caught off guard. It had been awhile since the two of you had been intimate. Between both of your busy schedules and raising Laura, there was little to no time for it. Both of your jobs left you utterly exhausted, and adding a growing child into the mix didn't help with that. The last time had only been spur of the moment down in the laundry room, praying you would have enough time before Laura woke up. It wasn't ideal.

His mind shifted back to the present as he felt your hand trace along the seam of his slacks. You could feel him beneath the fabric, already half hard and twitching.

"I missed this."

You said hand cupping him, squeezing gently, making him jolt a bit. You leaned forward, breath heavy against his neck.

"I missed your cock, James"

you whispered.

He felt the air leave him im a steady whine as his hips bucked involuntarily into you, jostling you and causing you to grip onto his shoulders. His hands fidgeted as he formed them into fists. Fighting with all he was worth not to grab you right now.

"What- what brought all this about?"

His voice was strained, using the last bits of his composure. He had to make sure you were okay first.

His hand went to hold your own, taking it away from where he desperately craved your touch, but he needed you to focus for him. Your eyes met his, searching.

"Is it wrong for me to desire my husband?"

It wasn't cold, just a rhetorical question. His hand slid up to hold your face, you eagerly melted into his touch. You always did.

"Of course not darling, that isn't what I'm trying to say"

You sighed a bit resignedly, averting his eyes.

"Don't you miss me too, James?"

His other hand came up to your face, ducking his head a bit to look at you directly.

"Every day, every minute I'm apart from you." He smiled a bit despite himself "sometimes even when you're in the next room helping Laura with her homework, I'll miss you."

You returned his smile, closing your eyes as your hand rested atop his.

"Oh that girl, I love her to pieces but sometimes it makes- this- a bit of a problem." You sighed happily. "I wouldn't trade her for the world though."

James nodded, returning the sentiment. He gently prompted you.

"But that isn't what's wrong is it?"

You leaned against his chest again, one of the most comforting places for you.

"I just.. I miss you, I miss feeling that closeness to you- I just feel like the longer we go without it.. it'll just.."

you shook your head.

"I know it sounds ridiculous, we're married, we see eachother every day but I just- I miss when you would just-"

you move your hands slightly trying to make a point.

"I dunno just..jump my bones?"

James laughed at that.

You smiled giving him a mock glare as you giggled yourself.

"You know what I mean!"

You said sitting up to playfully hit his shoulder.

"Whoa whoa hey, easy!"

he said, stifling his laughter as he went to grab your arms to quell your attack. You both fell to the bed, James slightly on top of you as you laughed together. It was silly, but it felt good. Sharing a soft moment together like this.

You both regained your composure as you looked at eachother lovingly. He brought his hand up to brush some stray hair behind your ear. His touch burned against your skin. Sending shivers down your spine. You were so damn pent up, he had to be too.

"I'm- sorry..."

He started, searching your eyes.

"I've- we've been just so busy with Laura and work"

he brought his hand down to rub your shoulder.

"There doesn't ever seem to be.. a right time for.."

He exhaled softly, starting again.

"I love you. So..so much. I want that closeness with you too. I want to show you that I love you, but I want it to count."

You quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Talking about the laundry room?"

He let out a small laugh.

"Yes. Exactly."

He drew you closer to him, touching his forehead to yours.

"I want- I need to be able to take my time with you, make sure I'm making you feel good".

His hand found its way to your waist.

"Make you feel how much i really love you, how much i need you."

Your breath caught a bit. His words weren't dirty but it still had the same effect on you. Rubbing your thighs together to get some friction.

He noticed, humming softly at you.

"Hm, poor thing"

he tutted.

"How about..you let me take care of you..the way you need it, hm?"

Dear god that man was gonna be the death of you.

You nodded your head before you even realized it.

"Please, god, James please". He smiled at you again, his eyes soft.

"That's what I like to hear honey. Now come on, let's get you comfortable hm?"

You followed him without question, your desire spurring you on. You swore you'd do anything for him in this moment.

You lay back against the bed, your head propped up against the pillows, as he sat back on his knees, your legs bracketing him.

"My poor, pretty baby.."

he cooed his hands skimming across your thin pajamas, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"Always so patient for me...even when I've been so neglectful on what you need most from me."

You drew a shaky breath as his fingers curled gingerly over your waistband. You had long soaked through your pj pants, leaving a damp spot that didn't go unnoticed, James brushing his thumb along it, working it into the sheer fabric.

"Gonna take care of my pretty baby, yeah? Show you just how much I love you."

You nodded fervently again, biting back a whine.

You knew he didn't mean to tease. Foreplay was so important to him. He never wanted to hurt you. But you just needed him. So so badly.

You wriggled your hips impatiently, needing his touch. His fingers. His cock. Gods above.

"Jame-s"

you whined out. He continued to pull your pjs down your legs, kissing your skin as he went.

"Mhm?"

You huffed a bit, gathering your courage.

"I..know you like to take your time, gods do i love it too- but"

you shuddered against him.

"I need you..right now James, please- i need to feel you inside me...need you to fill me up and just- just take me..please?"

You had closed your eyes, the embarrasment of asking for what you wanted making it hard to look at him.

A beat of silence.

You cursed yourself, thinking you ruined the mood, only to feel his fingers against your thighs, spreading them apart.

Your eyes fluttered open as you locked eyes with him. His expression was.. hungry, something you hadn't quite seen before. His hands gripped at your thighs kneading the flesh. Sending little bolts of pain and pleasure straight through you.

"Mm"

He started to rub soothing circles with his thumbs on the most sensitive part of your thighs. He sighed softly.

"We've got until 3 o clock"

he said as he shifted his hands to start unbuttoning his shirt.

"I said I'd take care of you how you needed, didn't I? You better hold me to it"

As you reached to unbuckle his slacks he leaned down to kiss your shoulder, whispering as he did.

"As long as you're ready for me honey"

His words shot through you, your hands trembling as you fumbled with the zipper of his pants. You finally undid them, tracing the outline of his cock through his boxers. He was fully hard now, a small damp spot next to his pudgy tip. You traced the crown with your nails, causing his hips to stutter a bit.

"Easy now"

he breathed out, smoothing your hair against your head. You nuzzled into his touch absentmindedly.

James was- well he wasn't a difficult man to please. Sometimes he would cum just from grinding on the bed, his head buried, breathless between your thighs. The thought alone made you ache, but that was something you could hold off for until later. You needed him now.

You slid his pants down his thighs, sitting back on your own to look up at him. He was so pretty, his arms, his chest, the softer stomach he had obtained over the years after the two of you had taken Laura in. It was an insecurity of his, but you absolutely adored it. He looked happier that way, taken care of as he always should be. He was still every bit as strong as the man you had married. The man you loved with all your heart.

He leaned down a bit, brushing his fingers along the hem of your shirt, silently pleading with you to take it off. You obliged, dropping it in the heap of clothes that had collected on the floor. Something you could both deal with later on laundry day.

He took you in fully, admiring you in your most honest form. Lovingly tracing his hands along your skin, mouth slightly agape in awe. Everytime he saw you he acted like it was the first time he had ever laid eyes on you. The reverence in his touch, like he was examining a piece of fine art. He breathed out slowly. "God...look at you"

His gaze grew hungrier, admiring you all the same. You leaned up to kiss him. His lips were chapped, not that you minded as he kissed you fervently, his resolve quickly disappating. He was always so warm, inviting, like coming home.

You pulled away first eliciting a soft whine from him, the kiss burning on your lips as you rested your forehead against his. You could hear his soft pants, his eyes still closed.

He leaned forwards suddenly, making you gasp as he started to kiss the sensitive skin on your neck. You faltered back as he pressed his body into yours, crawling to lay atop you fully. His weight was so comforting, it would have calmed you had he not started his barrage on your neck. Sucking reddish marks upon it, nipping lightly with his teeth, making you whimper.

His hands.

God his big, strong hands.

Trailing down your body with a stinging softness. Like he couldn't stop touching you, wouldn't stop. Each movement proving just how badly he needed you.

You arched yourself into him to the best of your ability, hands tangling in his hair, pulling it softly. He keened next to your ear as you felt his cock twitch against your thigh, heavy, intimidating.

Fuck.

"Gotta.. ha-have you baby please..plea-se"

he whined, his voice breaking.

He was humping your leg like a dog, so desperate for any bit of skin he could feel against himself.

Your brain felt fuzzy with electricity, absentminding grazing your hands along the muscles of his back. He hadn't even fucked you yet, but to have him this close. It felt like heaven.

You shifted your hips, both of your breaths caught as you felt him grind down against your sex, the slick making his fat head bump into you, setting your nerves alight.

You shivered as his hand drifted down to where to two of you met, dragging his cock along you again and again, coating himself. It was almost trancelike, his movements, like he couldn't stop himself. You grinded your hips back against him, causing him to shudder.

"Sweetheart...god fuck... go easy on me."

He laughed breathlessly.

"Won't last long if you keep...doing that".

You giggled at him, you felt giddy, like you didn't have enough air.

"Can't have that now can we?"

you said softly, carding your hands through his hair.

"Need you to cum inside me this time".

He froze, rigid.

Lifting himself up to look down at you. His eyes searched yours, blown out.

There was a tense silence, only interupted by the heavy breaths you two shared. You blinked up at him, trying to read his expression, before looking away, regret starting to cloud your thoughts.

"Say that again."

You focused on his lips, the sickly guilt making you dread seeing his reaction.

"Please, baby I need to hear you say that you want that again"

he sounded breathless, the urgency of his voice cutting into the tension.

You gathered your courage and fought yourself to meet his eyes.

The way he looked at you, the want- the desire, it took you by surpise. You don't think he had ever looked at you that way before. It boosted your confidence a bit, making you able to say the things you had only fantasized about.

You let out a breath before reaching down, squeezing the hand that held himself as you stared him down.

"I want you."

you started, using his own hand to drag him against your sex.

"To fuck me until it takes, James."

His hand trembled against your touch. His breathing strained as his eyes remained locked on you.

You leaned up as much as you could, meeting his shoulder with a soft kiss.

"I think we can handle two"

you smiled into his skin.

"You wanna be a daddy again, James?"

His eyebrows furrowed together as all the breath he was trying to hold on to tore out of him, sinking his teeth into his lip to bite back the pitchy groan.

"Jesus-jesus fuck- okay..okay" he dropped his head down a bit, his mouth agape.

He drew a few quick shuddery breaths, sounding like a whining dog.

"God sweetheart i- are you sure? I want to.. god i want to so fucking bad.. i just-"

his gaze met yours again, begging, needy.

"You're sure?"

You offered him a reassuring smile.

"Yes honey, I've never been so sure about anything. I want you to."

He let out a choked noise, his lips pressed together as he screwed his eyes shut. You drew one of your hands up to cup the side of his face, rubbing your thumb along his cheek.

"James, honey are you alright?"

"Mhm"

he managed, blinking his eyes, fighting..tears? Another shuddery breath, his body shaking slightly.

"It's- you're just so good with Laura, you always are...i just never- never imagined you'd want one with me."

He laughed dryly, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand.

"Sorry- i'm okay, i'm okay, it's just.. just alot to process"

He leaned down to kiss you again, so softly. He pulled away slowly gazing down at you.

"Okay."

You chuckled a bit.

"Yeah? We're really doing this?"

He smiled, planting his hands next to your head, caging you in.

"Love of my life wants me to give them a baby?"

He murmured against your neck.

"Then I'm gonna give you a fucking baby."

You shifted your hips under him, grinding slowly.

"Prove it".

He bit into your shoulder, pushing himself in all at once, forcing the breath from your lungs.

You grasped at his back, trying to hold on to anything.

"F-uck, James" you mewled.

He was so solid above you, pinning you against the mattress as he ground down into you, his hips meeting yours with newfound purpose.

"Shh s'okay honey"

he murmured, using his height as leverage against you.

"Gonna make you feel so good sweetheart, gonna show you how.."

His hips met yours in punctuating thrusts, matching his words.

"How. Much. I. Need. Y-ou. Mh Fuck.."

You lifted your hips as much as you could, his weight making it difficult for you to meet his thrusts. The sheer force and bulk of him ripping your breath from you in whining gasps.

All you could really do was take it.

Take him.

"J-ame..s.."

you mustered out, nails digging into the warm skin of his back.

He had never fucked you like this before, he was always a gentle lover, patient and methodical.

But this was something different entirely.

This. Was fucking.

Raw and animal. No gentle, slow sleepy sex, just it's intended purpose, breeding you like all other animals do. It made the familiar itching coil that wrapped its way around the base of you spine quickly spur to life.

He raised himself up onto his hands, mouth open, panting with the exertion of it all. You weren't sure if he was even conscious of what he was saying, the animalistic switch being flipped in his brain.

"Fuck.Fuck.Fuck. Missed you so bad. Missed feeling you- god..."

He grit his teeth, sweat starting to form.

"Gotta- give you what you...need. F-uck i need you so bad."

His voice pitched, whiny and desperate.

"Tell- tell me you need it. Please- please.. tell me you want me to- fuck a baby into you sweetheart. Dear god please...need you to.."

You tightened around him at his words, legs wrapping around him, your muscles aching. Burning.

His thrusts faltered, a moan through gritted teeth, moving his hand to your waist, supporting his weight with the other.

Taking you.

Using you.

Your breath, the little you had left of it, was caught. You felt dizzy, electric. His rough thrusts. The broad head of his cock hitting places you could never reach inside.

It drove you crazy.

Your words were growing incoherent while the coil threatened to snap embarrassingly fast.

You didn't care.

Your brain far beyond all thoughts of shame.

God you needed this.

"J-ames"

you managed.

"So..close.. please.. need you- i need you so b-ad."

He whined, low in his throat, grabbing onto the headboard with one hand while the other clutched onto your waist.

"Need you too-need you too...god..need you to say it.. hah.. please baby? Tell me you want me to cum inside you while I.. fuck you stupid on my cock huh? Just say it- say it and I'll- fuck sweetheart pleasepleaseplease"

You threw your head back on the pillows, keening pitifully. It was so hard to talk right now, to think. You were so fucking close to that edge with him, teetering on it.

"James..."

you choked out.

"In-inside please"

your hands fisted into the sheets, looking up at him, teary eyed, panting.

"Need you to cum inside.. please, James oh f-fUCK-"

you felt it.

Felt it take you in waves that wracked your body, pulsing and hot. He was right with you, the mutualness of the shared bliss bringing you closer. Your souls intermingling.

You heard the wood of the headboard crack and splinter under his grip, a tell tale reminder of the strength he possessed.

Loosing his grip, collapsing onto you.

Felt his chest heave and shudder as it was wrought out of him, the warmness inside yourself, feeling it leak out around him.

The grip on your waist tightening.

Hard.

His fingertips bruising your flesh. A reminder of how much he needed you. Your body felt like it was on fire, the heat of him blazing into you. His hips spasming, slow thrusts guiding you both through it.

He didn't stop.

Canting into you shakily with pained gasps. The overstimulation of it all edging into the last dregs of pleasure coursing through you.

"James.."

you whined, your body pressed into the bed, your muscles spent.

His face buried in your neck, shaking breaths hot against the skin, the heat soothing the marks he had left earlier. Your skin felt damp, your sweat mixing, salt upon it burning.

He kept on, pained tears falling onto your aching flesh.

"M-ake sure it..takes."

he choked out.

"S'many times as I...have too."

Your arms lazily resting against his back, hand fumbling through his hair.

"S'enough now baby, you can stop s'okay."

You murmured into his skin. He stilled his hips, body trembling as he wept into your neck, the rush of emotion and overstimulation wracking his body.

You ran your fingers though his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp, the other tracing soothing circles into the skin of his back.

"Shh"

you whispered, kissing his shoulder.

"Everythings okay honey, s'all okay."

You lay like that, holding onto him, reassuring him until his body relaxed against you. His arms grasped at you, holding you as close as he could.

"I love you"

he said muffled against your skin, his voice broken.

"God, do I love you".

Yall i SWEAR i don't have a breeding kink i swear i only think about it sometimes i SWEAR

[silverynight]

The selfish choice

Based on the first episode of act 3 s2. Contains spoilers

Jayce wakes up not precisely screaming, but scared. Maybe the explosion was a dream, but it felt terrifyingly real. Still, he needs to make sure the hexcore is alright, and figure out a way to destroy it.

But when he sits on the bed, he realizes the ceiling is not familiar to him. There's something weird about his body too, even though it looks the same, it's like he's wearing something that's not his even though he's naked under the sheets.

Why is he naked? Suddenly, a sharp pain in his temple makes him groan; flashes of the explosion fill up his mind as his own fingers run through his own hair, and he realizes it's longer... He also has a beard. He hasn't grow one in a long time, he's sure of it.

What's going on?

"Are you alright, Jayce? Did you have a nightmare?"

That voice. He'd recognize that voice anywhere... And the hand on his shoulder, a hand that hasn't been corrupted by hextech yet.

"Viktor?"

"Yes, it's me. It's okay, you're here with me. At home."

It's Viktor. The old one, his partner. But, at the same time, Jayce realizes, as he cups the man's face in his hands, that this Viktor looks different, healthier and happier.

He smiles more, and the expression reaches his beautiful eyes every single time.

"What is it? You look confused," Viktor says gently, caressing his shoulder.

Then Jayce notices that Viktor is also naked under the sheets; he's wearing a wedding band, and when he looks at his own hand over his partner's cheek he realizes he's wearing another one. One that matches Viktor's.

They're married. But he doesn't find the fact weird; it's not even remotely surprising. It makes sense somehow. Like something he should've done from the very beginning, but he was too obsessed with hextech to see the right path in front of him.

However, he's aware he didn't do that; he's not married to Viktor no matter how much he wants it now that the option appeared in his mind.

What's going on? Is this a dream? And if it is, can he stay a bit longer?

He doesn't want to wake up.

"I'll make breakfast. You should stay in bed," Viktor says, getting up before Jayce can grab his arm and beg him to stay with him. He stops only because he finally gets to admire Viktor's beautiful body for the first time. There's not trace of hextech on him.

Then he notices the prosthesis. His right leg. Even thought it's the first time Jayce has seen it, it looks familiar to him somehow.

"Where did you get that?"

Viktor chuckles; it's so good to see him laughing and happy, Jayce wants to make him do that sound again.

"Very funny. You perfectly know you did this for me. It was the first one. We do these for the people who need it. The Kiramman family pays for them."

Jayce can tell Viktor is passionate about the project; he likes to help, he likes to build things to improve people's lives in any way he can. In his heart, this also makes sense. He should've done this in the first place.

"What about hextech?"

"What are you talking about?" He's completely dressed now and Jayce laments it. But he gets closer and touches his forehead. "You're a bit warm, but I don't think you're sick. Maybe you should go back to sleep."

"No!" He snaps, startling Viktor for a moment. No, he doesn't want to go back to sleep because he'll lose this, he's sure of it.

"Maybe we should take the day off. You clearly need some rest."

Jayce has breakfast with him, he looks at their house with wonder; there are a lot of pictures of them, moments he doesn't remember, but that somehow make sense. In some of them, or perhaps a lot, Jayce finds himself staring at Viktor with a besotted grin on his face.

He helps Viktor with the dishes and kisses him for the first time in their kitchen; he can taste Viktor's smile against his lips and although it's familiar, it's completely new at the same time. He should've done that a long time ago.

When Jayce pushes him towards the bedroom, Viktor stops him.

"Wait," he chuckles again. "We should go buy groceries first."

"Viktor, please," this version of him must beg a lot, because his husband just rolls his eyes before following him inside.

"I love you, Viktor," Jayce says with tears in his eyes as flashes of the other Viktor appear in his head; he loves that Viktor too, even though he's been consumed by the hexcore now. "I think I've always loved you."

"I know," he smiles softly, running his fingers through Jayce's hair as they roll their hips together. "I love you too."

***

As the days pass and Jayce gets used to his new life; he realizes that this is not a dream. It feels too real to be one. He's starts wondering if the explosion sent him to another reality, a kinder one.

If that's the case he should try to find a way to get back, but without the hexcore there's no anomaly here.

And frankly, he's not sure he even wants to try; this Viktor is completely his, Jayce doesn't have to share his body and soul with the hexcore. The other one loves their project more than he loves Jayce. He's not sure the other one loves him the way Jayce does.

One day, Heimerdinger knocks at his door, and when he opens it he's tempted to close it right on his face. But then Viktor peeks over his shoulder and smiles.

"Professor, come in!"

This could be the Heimerdinger that lives in their reality, a different one; one who doesn't know about hextech. But Jayce has a bad feeling about him.

"I would like a cup of tea."

Viktor immediately leaves, heading towards the kitchen, acting like this is something that happens quite often at their house.

"How long have you been here?"

"How do you know, professor?"

"There's a different look in your eyes, boy. Besides, the other Jayce doesn't look at me like I'm a threat," Heimerdinger replies simply, staring right back at his former pupil.

"Do you want us to go back?"

"I don't know how we could do that, to be quite honest," he replies, prompting Jayce to finally relax. "I just had a feeling you were going to be sent here too, and I wanted to make sure you were alright. But I can see you have adapted quite well already."

"I don't want to leave, professor."

"I can tell."

"Is that wrong? Am I making a mistake?"

"I don't know."

***

When he sees Ekko again, it's months later; the headaches and flashes of his past life are not that frequent anymore, but it's because Jayce has trained himself to ignore them.

This time, it's Viktor the one who opens the door. Jayce it's in the living room so he manages to hear part of what his husband is saying.

"Is this your new pupil, professor? I'm Viktor. It's a pleasure, Ekko."

This is not a coincidence. The boy has finally arrived and it means nothing good for Jayce.

He rushes towards the entrance and stands between Viktor and the other two, like he's trying to shield him from them.

"You're acting a bit weird today, Jayce," he blurts out, confused before glancing back at their guests. "Don't mind him, he gets overprotective sometimes."

"It's fine," Ekko says. "I understand."

No, he fucking doesn't.

"Viktor, can you give us a minute?" Jayce asks, taking one his husbands hands before kissing it softly.

"Sure. I'll be in the lab."

He leads them to the study before closing the door behind himself; he's getting angry, and the fact that they're both looking at him with pity it's making him feel even worse.

"I won't help you find a way to get back," he says, trying not to growl.

"We already created the anomaly," Ekko shrugs. "We didn't need your help."

Jayce immediately flinches, thinking about all the things that could go wrong.

"You never asked," he blurts out before looking at the boy: "How long have you been here, Ekko?"

"I told him we shouldn't bother you," Heimerdinger cuts in then, when it's obvious Ekko is not going to answer any of Jayce's questions. "I apologize, but I genuinely thought you could... uhh... make everything a bit more difficult, if you agreed to help us."

On purpose. Heimerdinger thought Jayce could sabotage their project. But he doesn't get mad because he's right.

He would've.

"Then what are you doing here?"

"You need to come back with us," Ekko says, using the exact words he fears the most.

"No."

"Listen, I understand why you-"

"No, you fucking don't!" He growls without actually meaning to.

He hates that Ekko doesn't lose his composure, he hates that he's the mature one even though he's younger than Jayce.

"I do," he insists calmly. Jayce can see it in his eyes, the sorrow, the love... "I have someone here too. I don't want to leave her, but there are other people who need me where I come from. She's there too, another version of her, but I don't want to give up on her just because she's different."

The right words to undo him; the words that bring the image of his Viktor into his mind. He loves his Viktor too, but selfishness has been blinding him this whole time.

He can't give up on him, even if that Viktor doesn't love him as much as Jayce does.

He can find a way to destroy the hexcore and save Viktor at the same time; maybe they can have what they already have in this reality. It'll take some time and effort, but Jayce is going to be patient. He can fight for it.

"Let's go, right now."

"Aren't you going to say goodbye, boy?" Heimerdinger asks, taking pity on him. It's even worse than Ekko's judgment.

"If I see him I won't leave."

***

Something goes wrong. The core is reacting different in that reality, Jayce can feel it as his and Ekko's other selves get thrown out of the sphere and back into their reality.

Heimerdinger gets out before it's time to leave, he disappears outside the core and both Jayce and Ekko know they won't see him again.

When he opens his eyes he knows this is the reality he was supposed to land in the first place because his hammer is there, like it's been waiting for him this whole time. But Ekko is not with him.

And this place, this new reality looks like hell.

[biblical-chronicles]

A quiet shift

_______________________________________________________

where Liam starts distancing himself as his mind has led him to believe that the reader feels summat for Noel, the reader helps him to understand that he's actually the one for her.

_______________________________________________________

You’d always been caught in the middle of the Gallagher brothers. Not in a dramatic way—most of the time, anyway—but in that strange, chaotic balance they both seemed to keep. You were mates with both, though in different ways.

For months now, you’d been growing closer to Liam. There was an ease about him that felt like home—well, when he wasn’t winding you up for fun. He had this knack for making you laugh when you needed it most, for knowing exactly what to say to brighten your day. Somewhere along the way, the laughs and the banter shifted into something more, though neither of you dared to admit it.

But then, something changed.

At first, it was little things. Liam didn’t call you "love" as often, nor did he call you at random times of the day just to make you laugh. Then, when you’d pop over to see him, he’d make an excuse to stay busy, the warmth of your conversations cooling into something awkward and distant. The banter, the light-hearted insults, and that signature Liam energy—it all seemed to drain away. You’d catch him watching you sometimes, but when you’d look his way, he’d turn away like nothing happened.

You’d tried to brush it off, thinking maybe he was just having an off week. But weeks turned into over a month, and the pit in your stomach only grew heavier. It wasn’t just that you missed him; it was the way he’d gone cold without explanation. You started overthinking every interaction. Did you say something wrong? Was he annoyed at you for some reason?

One afternoon, after a particularly awkward encounter where Liam barely acknowledged you, you found yourself pacing in Noel’s kitchen while he leaned lazily against the counter, sipping on a brew.

“What’s up with you then?” Noel asked, raising a brow. “You’re wearin’ a hole in me floor, stomping about like that.”

You stopped, crossing your arms. “It’s Liam. He’s been acting... weird. Like, properly weird.”

Noel smirked, already amused. “Weird how? He finally grown a brain?”

You shot him a look, but he just shrugged.

“He’s been avoiding me,” you admitted, biting your lip. “Won’t talk like he used to. Barely even looks at me and I don’t know what I’ve done.”

Noel took another sip of tea, clearly holding back a laugh. “You? Nah, you ain’t done owt. He’s probably just bein’ his usual daft self.”

“That’s not helpful, Noel.”

“Look,” Noel said, setting down his mug, “Liam’s stupid. Like, properly thick, always has been, always will be. He probably thinks you and me have summat goin’ on.”

You blinked at him, stunned. “Me and you? That’s ridiculous, he surely doesn't”

“Yeah, I know that,” Noel said, chuckling. “But him? He sees you hangin’ round here, havin’ a laugh with me, and his brain turns to mush. He gets all shy when he’s actually feelin’ summat for someone, y’know.”

Your cheeks flushed. “He—he feels something for me you think?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Noel muttered, rubbing his temples. “It’s so obvious it hurts. He’s just too much of a muppet to say owt.”

The pieces started falling into place, and a mix of relief and frustration flooded through you, although you were still doubtful of Noel's theory. After all reading Liam wasn't the easiest of tasks.

“Well,” you said, taking a deep breath, “I’m gonna have to talk to him either way, aren’t I?”

Noel raised a brow. “Good luck with that. R’kid’s as stubborn as a mule. But, hey, might be worth it, just don’t tell him I helped, yeah? Can’t have him thinkin’ I’m nice or owt.”

You laughed despite yourself, feeling a slight spark of hope for the first time in weeks.

The next evening, you found yourself standing outside Liam’s bedroom door, nerves rattling your chest. You’d rehearsed what to say a hundred times on the way over, but now, staring at the scuffed wood of the door, every word had fled your mind.

Still, you couldn’t back out now—not after everything. Summoning your courage, you raised your hand and knocked. A shuffling noise came from inside, and after a moment, the door creaked open.

Liam stood there, dressed in a plain T-shirt and jeans, his hair slightly disheveled. He didn’t flash that cheeky grin you’d come to expect, nor did he give his usual “Alright, love?” Instead, he just nodded slightly and stepped aside to let you in, his silence hitting you harder than any insult could.

You walked in, your eyes scanning the familiar room. The bed was unmade, a few discarded records lay scattered on the floor, and a small pile of clothes lay in the corner. Usually, the space felt warm but now, it felt muted, the weight of Liam's distance pressing down on you.

He stayed by the door, arms crossed as he leaned back against the frame, avoiding your gaze. The air between you was tense, heavy with unspoken words.

You took a deep breath, sitting on the edge of his bed. “Alright, spill it,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nowt’s goin’ on,” he mumbled, not moving from his spot.

“Don’t give me that,” you snapped, frustration bubbling to the surface. “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks, Liam. You barely talk to me, you don’t even joke around anymore. It’s like I don’t even know you right now.”

He shifted uncomfortably, still not meeting your eyes. “You’re makin’ a big deal out of nothin’, love.”

“Nothin’?” you repeated, your voice rising. “You’ve practically shut me out, Liam! Do you know how much that’s messed with me head? I’ve been sitting here thinking I’ve done something wrong, that I’ve somehow fucked this up without even knowing it.”

“It’s not like that,” he said quickly, finally glancing at you. His voice defensive, his posture stiff, only fueling your frustration.

“Then what is it like?” you demanded, standing up now, unable to stay still. “Because I’m at me wit’s end, Liam. You’re the most important person in me life, and I feel like I’m losing you. Do you even care how much that’s hurt?”

Your voice cracked on the last word, and before you could stop yourself, tears started streaming down your cheeks. You hated crying—especially in front of him—but the weeks of bottled-up emotions had finally burst free.

Liam’s head shot up at the sound of your voice breaking, his defensive walls crumbling in an instant. “Oh, fuck,” he muttered under his breath, pushing off the doorframe and walking toward you. “Don’t—don’t cry, love.”

But you couldn’t stop. You sat back down on the bed, burying your face in your hands, the sobs shaking your shoulders. “It does matter, Liam,” you choked out, your voice muffled. “I’m so lost. I don’t know what’s happening, and it hurts so much to lose you.”

Liam crouched in front of you now, his hands hovering awkwardly as if he didn’t know whether he was allowed to touch you. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “C’mon now, don’t... don’t cry. Please.”

When you didn’t look up, he sighed and hesitantly placed a hand on your knee. “I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry for bein’ a knob. Just... look at me, yeah?”

Reluctantly, you lowered your hands, your tear stained face meeting his wide, worried eyes. “Why, Liam?” you whispered. “Why have you been like this?”

He let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I thought... I thought you and Noel had summat goin’ on.”

You blinked at him, utterly confused. “Me and Noel?” you repeated, your voice incredulous. “What the hell gave you that idea?” You said not believing Noel's theory to actually hold true.

He shrugged, looking down at the floor. “Dunno. You’re always round his gaff, laughin’ at his shite jokes. Figured I was just gettin’ in the way.”

Your jaw dropped, and despite the raw emotions swirling in your chest, you let out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re a fucking moron, Liam.”

He flinched, misinterpreting your tone, and started to pull back. But before he could, you grabbed his hand, holding him in place. “No, listen to me,” you said firmly, your voice steady now. “You’re a moron because you could’ve just asked. Instead, you’ve been torturing me for weeks over something that doesn’t even exist.”

His brows furrowed. “So... you and him... there’s nowt going on?”

“Of course not!” you exclaimed, giving his shoulder a light shove. “Noel’s like... like an annoying older brother. And he thinks you’re a muppet, by the way, for getting this in your head.”

A flicker of his old self returned as a sheepish smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Wouldn’t be wrong, would he?”

You rolled your eyes, but the sight of that smile sent a wave of relief washing over you. “No, he wouldn’t. But you’re me muppet, alright? And if you ever pull this shite again, I’ll knock some sense into you.”

For the first time in weeks, Liam let out a proper laugh—a warm, hearty sound that filled the room. “Fair play,” he said, his voice softer now. “I’m sorry, love. I dunno what I was thinkin’. Just got scared, I guess. Thought I’d lose you either way.”

“Well, you’re stuck with me,” you said, giving him a watery smile. “so get that through your thick skull.”

His grin widened, the mischievous glint returning to his eyes. “Stuck with me, eh? Lucky you.”

You shook your head, laughing despite yourself. “Don’t make me regret this.”

Before you could say anything else, Liam pulled you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you like he never wanted to let go. You melted into him, the weeks of tension and confusion finally slipping away.

As you pulled back slightly, he tilted his head, his nose brushing against yours. “Can I...?” he started, his voice uncharacteristically shy.

You didn’t let him finish. Closing the gap, you pressed your lips to his, the kiss warm and full of all the emotions you’d been holding back. When you finally broke apart, he smirked down at you.

“Knew you fancied me,” he teased, his energy back to normal.

You swatted his arm playfully. “Don’t push it, Gallagher.”

But as he leaned in for another kiss, you couldn’t help but smile. It was good to have your Liam back as a friend and summat more now.

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me daft brain totally left this one sittin' in the drafts... So massive apologies to the person who asked for this a while back. But it’s here now, so I hope it was at least worth the wait. Proper sorry again, and if you wanna throw another request my way, I’ll sort ya with a priority pass xx

[scramblescrew]

Hey can I request uh....ancients with a y/n who finally gives up but ends up depressed? Like they usually lay there and do nothing and be basically a sad doll that needs lots of comfort?

((Sure thing, Anon! Here ya go! Sorry it took me so long! Writer’s block has been killing me

(TRIGGER WARNING FOR THEMES OF DEPRESSIVE TOPICS! IF IT IS TOO MUCH FOR YOU, PLEASE MOVE ON PAST)

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Dark Cacao Cookie would start having a bit of an easier time realizing what you’re feeling. He had felt the same depressed, empty feeling when his son, Dark Choco Cookie, forced his hand and he was cast out of the kingdom.

But when he found out you were just laying in bed, usually motionless, he was concerned. He understood that you weren’t in an ideal mental state but you still needed to care for yourself.

Instead of having one of the citadel staff bringing you your rations, Dark Cacao did instead. When he unlocked the door to your chambers and entered. His heart ached even more watching you lay motionless on your bed, your chest slowly rising and falling with each breath.

“Y/N…”

DCC walked over with the food, set it down on the bedside table and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Please understand why I had to keep you here in the citadel…the world outside of these walls would corrupt you…take what it would from you then leave you for dead. I couldn’t have that for you…I can’t lose you…!”

After a few minutes of silence, DCC sighed and laid down beside you, pulling you in close, and wrapped his arms around Y/N.

“Please know that I love you…even if in your eyes it doesn’t seem so…”

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Scared. Pure Vanilla Cookie is scared when he finds to mindlessly and silently pacing the grounds of his kingdom for who knows how many hours and even more fearful when he catches up to you and you stare blankly and wordlessly at him.

His heart breaks at this as he pulls you close and hugs you.

“Let’s get you back to bed, you must be exhausted…wondering for so long isn’t good for you…”

PV helped you to your shared bedroom and let you have privacy to get changed into more comfortable clothing before helping you into bed and healing any injuries you may have gotten from your wonder.

After everything was settled down and you were physically well again, PV got into bed with you, pull you close, and started kissing your forehead and gently rubbing your back as you lay there.

“Please don’t scare me like that…I never want to see you hurt…”

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Hollyberry was excited when you had taken your stay in her castle, your new home, better than she had anticipated, you occupied her to events without complaint (maybe a bit of reluctance and though not very much), you started to give her small bits of affection like holding her hand and reciprocating her hugs even if you were still very reserved, but somethings were still worrying…

What she worried about was went you started having sudden outbursts of rage and berating her for getting to close. It was like flipping a switch in your brain at random and it was…SCARING your captor.

After leaving you be for a while and do research on what she could do to help you and came up with a solution.

That night she sat you down and gently hugged you, explaining that she understands that you’re going through a rough time and that she wanted to help you. She was going to set up meetings with a therapist and will let you roam the kingdom with less strict supervision. All she wanted was you to get better and to love her.

“All I want in return is your love…please give me your love, my dear…”

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White Lily Cookie understood… being forced to stay in a barely familiar place with someone who claims to be your lover but is actually your captor can take a toll on a cookie. So it was understandable that you would fall into a depression. One where you couldn’t sleep(understandable as White Lily Cookie made you sleep in the same bed as her), you refused food or drink much to her worry, and your memory was getting worse by the day due to the aforementioned symptoms and more.

It all came to a head one day when you…just stopped moving at all, you didn’t get outta bed, you stopped what little resistance you gave to White Lily Cookie’s attempts to give you affection. You accepted all the hugs, kisses and the cheek and forehead, accepted her cuddling you at night, everything. You just stopped responding.

After a thorough examination from a doctor that was called in (No, Pure Vanilla Cookie was not asked for help. He had his own darling to deal with), it was found out that your depression had gotten worse, to the point of you had fallen into a Catatonic state.

After this revelation, White Lily would try every day to get you to get up or even just open your eyes and look at her. But White Lily soon conceded and focused on being there for you, gently holding you close and letting you be her sad little doll…

“My sweetest doll…it’ll all be ok. Please just open your eyes..for me..?”

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Golden Cheese Cookie held you in her arms with her wings wrapped around your body. With what has happened to her in the past, Golden Cheese Cookie understands what it’s like to feel so empty and hopeless.

But you staying in your bed all day….something in her….BEGS…for you to get up again…

The next thing you know, you are subjected to bi-daily tests and a sarcophagus is built to hold you and keep you inside of it. It was built so only Golden Cheese Cookie could get you out if she ever wanted to.

And that was the hardest part, the easiest part was locking you inside. You didn’t really fight back like you used to, like you did when she first brought you to her kingdom. But that just meant you would be hers sooner…

Once you were in GCC’s digital kingdom, you felt the urge to get up, to walk around, to be free, much to Golden Cheese cookie’s satisfaction and joy. She once again hugged and held you close with her wings wrapped around you.

“It’ll be ok now…I’ve got you…and you’ll never want for anything, my gem…”

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Im here this is here, it’s raw, it took forever- I need a nap (I pulled an all nighter for this request so I could get it out for you all😊) *Dies*