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the-witty-pen-name · 2 days ago

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The Love Triangle From Hell (3)

Steve Harrington x F!Reader / Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Synopsis: Following PART TWO, Steve feels even more distant from his friends- especially you; Eddie reflects on memories he has of you two; Nancy and Jonathan work together for the paper; Robin does her best to navigate what being friends with you and Steve looks like; you seek comfort in one of the only ways you know how- calling Eddie

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: messy messy feelings; unrequited love; cursing; arguments; crying; angst angst angsty angst; allusions to violence; miscommunication; jealousy; kissing; implications of smut; horniness

A/N: You guys are literally the absolute best. I am having the best time writing this- I'm so inspired by all of you. The love you have shown this fic so far has me overwhelmed. Thank you for your kind words, you have helped me work through some serious writer's block. Your comments and reblogs are keeping me going fr

This is unedited; please let me know what you think and if I missed anything I should include as a warning.

This series with be 18+ in later chapters MINORS DNI

His hands are tangled in your hair and he’s pulling you in close for another searing kiss. He can’t catch his breath, but he’s just so desperate to stay close to you like this. Your lips are so soft against his and your mouth is so inviting as you yank him closer. You whimper against his lips and it makes him shiver. He feels weak in the knees as you feel so pliable to his touch. You melt into his embrace and sigh happily as his lips trail down your neck.

“Want you,” you moan softly, tugging his hair. He groans at the sensation. “Need you so bad.”

“‘M gonna take care of you,” he promises, bringing his lips back to yours.

“Love you,” you moan.

Before he finds out if he says it back, his alarm goes off and he’s brought back to his reality. He groans disappointedly, covering his ears with his pillow- desperate for a couple more minutes with dream you. There’s a bang at his door.

“Steve! Turn that shit off!” Eddie calls from the other side of the door. He’s yelling but his tone is playful. Steve hits his alarm off and drudges out of bed finally. Eddie has coffee made and Steve forgets anything is wrong at the moment.

“Did she say anything last night?” Steve asks groggily as he pours himself a cup.

“Um, not really,” Eddie replies, taking a moment to think about it. “I mean, yes but not about anything that we don’t know already. She’s conflicted, she doesn’t know what to think or feel. She just wants time.”

“Okay,” Steve replies, leaning up against the counter. He takes a sip of his coffee. He needs to get to work. He can talk about this with Robin when he gets there.

When you called Eddie, you didn’t expect Steve to answer. You thought maybe he’d say something- you wanted him too. But he didn’t. You couldn’t read him anymore.

Eddie was thrilled to hear your voice. He’d missed you, and he’d missed talking to you. He wanted that piece back as soon as he could get it. He reveled in the way his name sounded coming from you.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize, “I didn’t mean to upset Steve- I heard the way he dropped the phone down…”

“It’s okay sweetheart,” he says compassionately. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He’s met with a sad feeling of silence.

“I’m happy you called,” he says gently. He hopes the sentiment makes you feel better.

“I’ve missed you,” you admit, and Eddie feels like his heart might swell out of his chest.

“It’s hard when the two people who you talk about everything with are the people you want to talk about,” you joke, and he laughs with you.

“You can talk shit about me,” he teases and he hears you groan. He bites his lip, holding back a smile.

“How are you doing?” You ask, changing the subject.

“Much better now,” he flirts.

“How are you doing, really?” You ask again, your voice sounding more fragile.

“I meant, honestly- not great. But not worse than anyone else is doing right now.”

“Yeah…”

“I miss you a lot too,” he admits. He runs a hand through his hair, and it reminds him of how amazing it felt the last time you played with his hair. He’s craving that touch so badly.

When you both were in high school, Eddie went out of his way to make sure you always had a seat at the table. He’d notice as you stood with your cafeteria tray, waiting for Steve to realize there was no open seat for you at his table. He’d wave obnoxiously to catch your eye and he’d smile at the way you’d get shy from the attention. He’d point at the empty seat next to him, and he’d grin as your eyes light up in realization you had a spot. You’d shuffle through the crowd and take your seat next to him. You’d take a seat and ruffle his hair in your hands.

Eddie was always a creature of habit. As much as he exudes chaos, he actually thrives in having a routine. Don’t get him wrong- it’s never been a good routine… but it’s routine nonetheless. In high school it was a lot of the same. Tuesdays, Corroded Coffin played at The Hideout. He would get home way too late and never get in bed until close to 3am. Wednesday mornings, he’d sleep through his alarm and stroll into first period consistently 10ish minutes late. Thursdays he prepped for Hellfire, and then of course, the piece the resistance was Friday. Hellfire. An epic campaign that would run several hours and ensure the most recent shit week had been worth it to make it to that moment.

He remembers that he was paralyzed when the group proposed to postpone Hellfire one time his first senior year. It snaps him out of his thoughts, as he was so wrapped up in you- and how close you were sitting. Eddie knew that hypothetically, it shouldn’t matter if the date changes. However, he couldn’t wrap his head around change. He hated it- still does. A disruption from his status quo throws off his entire week and it will take him too long to mentally recover. He knew that he came off as a hard ass, but he prefers it than trying to explain his mind to his friends. He had felt his jaw tighten as he tried to rationalize with himself that it can be okay to switch it up. He unclenched his fists once he realized that he was making his knuckles white unintentionally.

“Uh yeah, no problem. Saturday’s fine,” he was able to manage through gritted teeth. He relaxed when he could look past himself and see his friends smile, thanking him and happily chatting about the campaign. He smiled when he observed that his decision made everyone happy. That for him outweighed the internal struggle.

He didn’t really listen to the reason everyone wanted to reschedule, but he picked up on after the fact that everyone is talking about the Snow Ball. He couldn’t help but recoil back into himself as his friends talked about their plans to go- who they’re asking, what suit they’re getting, what songs would play, and whatever. He couldn’t have cared less. Unless…

His eyes wandered to sneak a glance at you. He wondered if you had plans- maybe you're hoping someone asks you. Maybe, he’s lucky and you were hoping that someone would be him. He wondered if you had a date. Maybe you already had been asked. It’s not like you had been aware of the way Eddie’s felt about you- unrequited feelings that tugged on his focus constantly since he’s known you. You caught his eye and offered him a shy smile and he could crumble.

Eddie immediately averted his gaze, and focused his attention back on his friends. He ignored the way his face suddenly became so warm and he ignored the butterflies that were swarming around in his stomach. He couldn’t allow himself to dwell on these feelings- he knew that there’s no way you feel the same. Who could possibly like him?

He felt a pressure when the freshman looked at him, one of them having asked Eddie about his own plans. Eddie sees the way the kids look up to him, they idolize him. He knows they think he’s cool. He can’t let that go just yet, he loved it too much. He needed it. He wanted to have them hang on to this version of him for as long as they’d believe in it.

So, despite his usual distaste in school sanctioned functions, he did not want to allow the kids to think he couldn’t score a date. He could only blame society so much before they realized it’s actually his own fear of putting himself out there that cramped his dating life more than anything else. He then resolves that he needs a date to this dance. He tells himself that it’s for the freshman, to keep up the cool facade or whatever. But in actuality, he just wanted to ask you because he wants to ask you out. It’s his perfect window of opportunity.

“Oh, I hadn’t thought about it, honestly,” you said, when one of the freshmen asked you if you had plans. “I’d been so busy with the play, I haven’t had a chance.” Eddie watched as you glanced over to Steve’s table. “Steve and I usually would go to this kinda thing,” you said quickly, and Eddie could see your apprehension despite your best attempt to hide it. “We’ll probably go as friends again.”

He said nothing.

A few days later, you called Eddie and he could immediately tell you’re upset. You’re doing your best to hold it together but he can tell you’re almost at your breaking point.

“Hey,” you say, your voice straining as you try not to cry. “I know this is totally not your thing, but I’m kind of in a bind.”

“What can I do?” He asked, sitting up straight on his bed. He was getting ready to locate his shoes or his keys- thinking you’re in trouble somewhere. He’ddrop anything to come get you.

“I know you’d probably rather do literally anything else, but um, I have two tickets to the Snow Ball and I already bought a dress…”

“I thought you’d be going with Steve?” He asked. You sniffled.

“Um, yeah I kind of just assumed he’d take me. I didn’t realize that he asked out Nancy Wheeler,” you choked back tears. “I mean it’s not like that,” you lied, maybe not to Eddie but more to yourself, “we’re just friends. But I still thought He and I would be going together like as friends again- you know? But, uh, yeah- he is taking like a real date.”

“I know you’d hate it, and I will make it up to you. But, I already bought the tickets and I can’t get my money back. It’s like not a date or anything, just like a friend thing…”

“I’d be happy to take you,” he replied, sincerely. He can tell you were expecting him to fight you on it. When would you catch on that he’s willing to do anything for you?

“Eddie, thank you so much,” you sniffled, still trying your best to keep it cool. “I owe you one,” your voice cracks and you hang up quickly before he gets a chance to say anything.

Eddie didn’t really understand back then why you were even friends with Steve to begin with. Eddie thought Steve, frankly, was a total douchebag. However, once he actually got to know Steve- it was a different story. He couldn’t resent Steve. He loved him like a brother now. And once Eddie got to know the Steve you’ve always known, your feelings for him made sense. But at the same time, Eddie held his tongue for all the things Steve did or didn’t do for so long. Steve was good guy at his core, Eddie understood. But his actions didn’t reflect that in Eddie’s eyes. But it wasn’t his place to tell you that. It didn’t seem right. You’d known Steve so much longer than him.

Nancy and Jonathan invited you and Robin to go with them to watch Lucas’ basketball game. You were excited to get out of your little apartment and support Lucas. Jonathan was photographing it for The Hawkins Post. Jonathan paced up and down the court side to get photos, and you sat up in the bleachers with Nancy and Robin. You were never one to go to school things really, but it was Lucas’s senior year and it was a big game- of course you were going to be there.

“It feels weird, Steve not being here,” Nancy whispers to you and you nod in agreement.

“Yeah, everything just feels weird right now,” you agree. “You and Jonathan are okay?”

“We’re good. We’re doing good, um, still working through stuff but we’re going to just work through it.”

“That’s good.”

“Robin?” Nancy asks, and Robin turns her head to pay attention. “How’s things with Vicky?”

Robin’s face turns tomato red. “Fine,” she mumbles, happily. “I’m gonna hang out with her tomorrow.” You elbow her teasingly, making her blush redden.

“How’s it feeling? Being the best at all of this out of us?” You tease.

“I don’t know,” she’s so embarrassed, it’s so sweet. “We both just like each other- it’s not that complicated. She’s so great.”

The three of you turn your attention back to the game at the sound of the whistle. You clapped and cheered the loudest whenever Lucas had the ball. He tried to plead with the lot of you to tone it down, casting weary looks in your direction. You couldn’t help yourselves. You felt so proud of him.

You decide to take a walk to the concession stands and get some snacks for everyone. You order four sodas and two large popcorns- one for Jonathan and Nancy and one for you and Robin. You fish the cash out of the front pocket of your jeans, and hand it to the kid working the window. You thank him, and balance it all in your hands to navigate carefully back to the stands.

You see a familiar face coming down the hallway, sprinting. For a moment, you can’t help the smile that forms across the expanse of your face until you remember what’s been going on. Your face falls, and you feel so stupid for being excited to see him when it hits you again all at once.

You don’t think Steve knew you’d all be here, because he looks just as surprised to see you. He stops and his sneakers squeak across the polished gym floor. He looks at you with an expression of pure panic. He totally didn’t think you’d be here. And you’re surprised he came alone- but of course he did, he’s Steve. Of course, he’s going to show up to every game for Lucas. You shouldn’t expect any less. It still takes you back.

“Can I help with those?” he asked, gesturing for you to pass some stuff to him. You nod, and tilt so he can take some of the things from your grasp.

“Where are you sitting?” He asks, and you nod your head towards Robin and Nancy. His face deflates. “Ah, okay.” He walks over with you, and he passes the items in his hand off to Robin. He moves aside so you can walk back into your spot.

“Thanks, Steve,” you offer him a soft smile, appreciating the effort despite the circumstances.

“Yeah of course,” he mutters, backing away, lingering for a moment because the seat that’s usually there for him between you and Robin isn’t there. He quickly pulls himself out of his thoughts and just heads over to the next row of bleachers, finding a seat next to a couple of his old basketball teammates that are here for their little brothers.

Steve can’t even focus on the game, he keeps trying to steal glances of you from his peripheral vision. He wants to know what Robin said that made you laugh like that, and he wished he could have heard your laugh- but you’re too far away from him. He watches as your jaw drops at something Nancy tells you, and he watches how you cheer so happily for Lucas. He wants to know if this is bothering you the way it’s bothering him. You look like you’re keeping it together and he wants to know if that could truly be the case.

Even when you’re carrying so much hurt, you give off such a radiance that Steve and he’s sure everyone else is just drawn into. Your pretty smile and your bright eyes are all he can think about- he only knows when to cheer when he feels the people around him move. He smiles when you stand up and pose, pointing to Lucas- then Lucas matches it, giving it back to you. He watches as you both share that moment of just pure joy, and his heart aches. He doesn’t know if he could ever make you that happy.

When the game was over, you looked to see if you could find Steve but there was no sign of him. You all invited Lucas to go out for celebratory pizza for his big win, but he wanted to go with his teammates. The plan fizzled pretty much after that. Robin wanted to get home so she could call Vicky and Jonathan and Nancy wanted to head home so Jonathan could start developing his photos. When you and Robin are walking out, you see a familiar van.

“I’ll bum a ride from Nancy,” Robin assures you, pushing you in Eddie’s direction. She waves to Eddie from a distance and then jogs to catch up with Nancy and Jonathan.

“What are you doing here?” you ask with a smile. He pushes himself off of the hood of his van and walks over to you, his hands in the back pockets of his jeans.

“I thought you might be here,” he quips. “Plus, I had to poke my head in- Sinclair is some big shot apparently?” he jokes, “I had to check out for a few minutes.”

“He’s really great,” you agree.

“Was Steve here?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah I saw him. He didn’t really stay either- I mean he stayed for the game, but we didn’t talk really.” You shrug.

“Well,” he says, trying to optimistically change the subject, “Do you wanna get out of here? I could give you a ride home or we could get food or something- or even just drive around and not talk. I’m not picky.”

He looks so beautiful like this, you observe. The sky is pitch black but the lights in the parking lot illuminate him perfectly with a soft glow. His hair is wonderfully messy and his smile is making it hard for you to breathe. Has he always looked like this? You wonder, astonished as it hits you all at once. He’s gorgeous. Your eyes linger, taking in every little detail you’ve overlooked before. He waves his hand in front of your face to snap you out of your trance.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he tisks.

“Looking at you like what?”

“Like you’re trying to jump my bones,” he chuckles. Your face warms, and suddenly you realize how long you must have been staring.

“Ha, right,” you joke sarcastically, or at least, trying to joke sarcastically. You walk past him and get into the passenger side of the van and try your best to compose yourself in the few seconds it takes for him to follow suit.

“Okay, sweetheart,” he says, turning over the ignition, “where to?”

“Can we just drive around like we used to?” you ask- the circumstances of tonight making you feel so nostalgic.

“Of course we can,” he hums, passing you the case of his cassettes- a familiar and welcomed sight for your tired eyes.

You watch Eddie as he drives, and observe the way the muscles in his arms flex ever so subtly as he turns the wheel. You watch his ringed fingers tap across the top of the steering wheel and you can’t help it the way your mind wanders. You’re so wrapped up in the way his hair sways so effortlessly and the movement of his jaw as he sings, you don’t even notice that Steve was leaving the gym just in time to see you both drive away.

After a little while of aimless driving, and hitting up the drive thru, Eddie ends up parking at Lover’s Lake when neither of you are ready to go home just yet.

“Eddie?” You ask absentmindedly, finishing off the milkshake he got you. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” he replies, also finishing his, but with an obnoxiously loud suck of his straw- determined to get every last sip.

“Why do you like me?” you ask, cringing almost immediately. You think you sound like a middle schooler or something- you’re so embarrassed. His eyes widen for a brief second, contemplating his answer. He tosses the empty cup into the back.

“First off,” he criticizes teasingly, “I did not say I liked you- I’m in love with you. Get your facts straight, ma’am.”

“My apologies,” you giggle, holding your hands up in defeat.

“I mean- I love everything about you; always have,” he starts. “You’re sweet and kind. I think you’re beautiful. I think you’re incredible, and sometimes I can’t figure out why you wanted to ever be friends with me in the first place.”

“Eddie?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Would you kiss me?”

Eddie’s a goner when you’re looking at him with those doe eyes. More than anything he wants to lunge across and close the space between you. It’s everything he’s ever wanted. It takes every fiber of his being to hold himself back..

“I don’t know if I can kiss you without knowing if I could ever kiss you again,” He whispers, but it doesn’t stop him from leaning in towards you. His hand lifts to hold your cheek and suddenly he’s so close. Closer than the two of you have ever been. His lips are tantalizingly close to yours when his forehead touches yours. A huge bang on the side of the van scares you both away from each other.

“Give her time, my ass, Munson! Get the fuck out here! Get your fucking hands off my girl!”

Taglist:

@sunshinepeachx @downbear @fanlifeaamt @exploding-bonbon @losingmygrasponreality @skiddypiddy @andvys @djodirt @moonlightsolo @kyga01 @sheisjoeschateau @melaninjhs

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atlabeth · 3 days ago

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(please) spare me indignity

pt 3

pairing: spencer reid x fem gideon!reader

summary: you and spencer spend more time together. it's bad, then it's good, then it's something else altogether.

a/n: continuing the gideon!reader series! a whole lot of this is arguing because they love each other fr. sorry this took so long, for some reason i had a really hard time finding my footing here but i hope you enjoy!! reader is a victim of the sassy man apocalypse bc this may be s1/2 spencer but he is not going to not be standing up for himself!! have this new banner that i made to try and help with my inspiration. title is from nothing new by rio romero

wc: 5k

warning(s): r and spence argue some more. angst, hurt w/o comfort, then hurt with comfort! idk theyre kinda sweet

You and Spencer spend the next six and a half hours watching movies.

You make it through Goodfellas and you only tell him to be quiet twelve times. You take a break to get water and make popcorn, which was so generously provided in your grocery supply, and while you’re doing it, Spencer insists on picking the next one. You end up watching Psycho, and you don’t think he lets a single scene go by without explaining the meaning behind it.

You choose Notting Hill after, and he knows just as much. He picks Halloween—it doesn’t really help your stalker anxieties, and Spencer apologizes profusely when you bring it up, but you still end up finishing it. Next you go for Pointe Grosse Blank, then Spencer picks Kolya, a Russian film that he specifically put into the box.

There are subtitles, but he spends half the time translating for you anyway—apparently there are nuances to the script that an English translation doesn’t get compared to the original Russian, and that would be a tragedy.

He’s in the middle of his third rant going on seven minutes when you finally break.

“Okay,” you say as you reach for the remote, “I can’t do this anymore.”

You do a double take when your hand meets another instead of hard plastic, and you see Spencer beat you to it. You pull your hand away as soon as possible, feeling your face heat from annoyance.

“What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” he echoes. “The movie’s not over yet.”

“I can’t take any more of your rambling,” you say. “I’m cutting you off.”

He frowns. “We have to finish the movie first.”

“What are you, a broken record?”

“I couldn’t be a broken record because I said two different things,” he protests. “Besides, what else are you going to do?”

“Unpack my things? Read a book? Sit in silence staring at the wall in my room?” You shrug as you stand up and walk over to the kitchen. “I’ve got a lot of options.”

“Gideon told me not to let you out of my sight,” Spencer says, standing up as well.

“You can see me pretty well from there,” you say. “You don’t have to invade every bit of my privacy.”

“I— I kind of do,” he says. “The whole point of a safe house is to keep you safe. If you’re off doing your own thing, it’s not really safe.”

“It’s not like I’m leaving!” You throw up your hands in exasperation. “What, are you going to sleep with me too? Make sure I don’t go anywhere in the middle of the night?”

It’s almost funny how fast his face flushes bright red. You’ve got a feeling he doesn’t have a lot of experience with this sort of thing.

“That’s what I thought,” you say. “Keep watching your movie if you want. Just leave me alone.”

You feel his eyes on your back as you storm off to your room. The childish part of you wants to slam the door, but you decide to throw Spencer the smallest bone and leave it open.

It’s not his fault that you hate him, and that just makes you hate him even more. He gets to come out of this the bigger person, a saint for putting up with your various deficiencies while keeping you safe from a stalker. You’re just the difficult, ungrateful, estranged bastard daughter of the most deified man in the Behavioral Analysis Unit who can’t set her personal grudges aside for her own good.

You shove your duffel bag into the bed with a little too much force. You unzip it, deciding to try and occupy yourself with unpacking. You’re here for the indefinite future, so you might as well make yourself at home.

You can’t help the dry laugh that comes at the thought. You don’t know if you’ve ever felt at home anywhere.

This might be the worst thing about this whole situation. You’ve got a stalker out there, and it’s making you do all this bullshit introspection against your will. It’s got you thinking about your dad and your relationship with him, and thinking about Spencer Reid and how he’s replaced you in your father’s life without even really knowing about it because he didn’t know about you until he walked into your dad’s office a month ago.

Ten minutes pass in a blur before you’re knocked out of it by a rapping on your door. You turn to see Spencer standing in the doorway, expression unreadable.

“What?” you ask.

“You’ve been quiet,” he says. “I’m just checking in.”

“I’m still alive,” you say. “Nothing exciting happened in the five seconds I was gone.”

“It was ten minutes and thirty two seconds, actually,” he says. “But— but good.”

Again, more silence passes between you. You look up at him from your pile of clothes after thirty seconds.

“Are you just going to stand there?”

“I— I don’t know what else to do,” he stammers.

“Didn’t you say you did something like this before?” you ask. “Guarded some girl from her stalker?”

Spencer nods. “She was a lot easier to get along with.”

You roll your eyes. “Somebody out there wants to kill me to get back at my dad. Sorry that I’m not the pinnacle of happiness.” You make a point to avoid his gaze. “But what I’m trying to say is that you’ve done this all before. You should have some kind of idea of what to do besides bothering me.”

“How am I bothering you?” Spencer asks in exasperation. “I’ve said three sentences to you!”

“Everything you do bothers me, boy genius,” you say. “I thought you would have figured that out by now.”

“I—” He looks like he wants to say more, but instead he just clamps his mouth shut and shakes his head before he walks away.

You stare down at your pile of clothes, largely unfolded and scattered around the bed. The silence doesn’t give you the satisfaction you thought it would.

It only lasts for all of thirty seconds though, and you don’t have time to linger in the discomfort—you hear footsteps, heavier ones this time, and you look up to see Spencer round the corner once again.

“What is your problem with me?” he blurts out.

You frown. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Spencer nods. “You hate your dad, fine— but he’s not here for you to fight with, so you’re taking it out on me. It’s classic displacement, and you don’t get to take it out on me.”

“Why not?” you ask.

“Because it— it’s not fair!” he sputters. “I didn’t do anything to you— I didn’t even know you existed until a month ago!”

“Well, gosh, boy genius,” you say, “I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure it out yourself.”

“Stop calling me boy genius!” he exclaims. “We’re the same age!”

“Then stop acting like one,” you retort. “I know you’ve got a psychology degree, but you don’t need to use them on me whenever you can.”

He frowns, his mouth opening for a second before he closes it.

“Were you going to ask how I knew that before you realized the obvious answer?” you ask.

“No,” he says.

“Yes, you were.” You continue folding your clothes. “You went to Caltech, MIT, and Yale, even though it was your safety school. You’ve got three PhDs, two BAs, and you’re working on a philosophy degree, but you’re not done with it yet.” You shrug. “A little difficult to make it to classes with all the FBI stuff.”

“…Does he really talk about me that much?” Spencer’s voice is quieter than it was before.

“Oh, yeah,” you say. You set a finished pair of jeans to the side then look at him. “I graduated from college too. Granted, it was a couple years ago, not when I was 17, but I think it still warrants a little support.”

“You went to George Mason,” Spencer says.

Your movements stutter. You weren’t expecting him to actually know.

“Yeah,” you say. Your heart skips a beat. “How do you know?”

Has he talked about you to the team before? Sure, they didn’t know you existed before you showed up out of the blue, but maybe he showed them a picture after it happened. Your mom carries one of you in your cap and gown in her wallet—maybe he got a hold of one and Spencer caught a glimpse of that. Maybe you just missed it and he does have a picture of you on his desk. Maybe—

“You have a sweatshirt for it,” he says with a gesture. You look where his finger is pointing, and sure enough, your GMU sweatshirt is tangled up with a couple of other crewnecks.

“…Of course,” you say. You don’t know why you even dared to hope. “Because it’s more likely that you’d notice something like that than it is for my dad to talk about me.”

Spencer says your name, and you hate the sympathy in it.

“No.” You cut him off before he can get any further. “Don’t try to defend him. You know,” you huff a cold, humorless laugh, “he missed my graduation, too. Two separate dates for commencement and my actual school’s ceremony, one 45 minute car ride, and he couldn’t make it to either one.”

“You don’t know how busy we are,” Spencer tries again. “We work weekends and holidays and around the clock— sometimes we get called in at 3am to stay in some random town for weeks at a time, and there’s nothing we can do about it! I— I mean, we’ve had three days off in the past 47 days and—”

“That’s why I have a problem with you!” you cry out, throwing the shirt in your hand onto your bed as you turn to face him. “Because I’m twenty-four years old, and I’ve lived an hour away from my dad for the past six years, but his team that he spends all his time with didn’t even know I existed until I showed up at your office.” You take a step forward, anger resurging inside of you. “Because I threw away a chance at an Ivy to get to see him more, just to deal with the same bullshit as usual. Because I worry about him dying every single day he’s in the field, and he can’t even give me a phone call at the end of it all—” another step forward— “and even in the middle of this shitshow, you think you have a right to defend him— to- to tell me how to feel about him!”

You move even closer, close enough to see his wrinkled button-up is partially untucked, his lips are slightly parted, and his stupid doe eyes—that haven’t left yours—with his stupid dilated pupils, and you jab your finger in his chest.

“Because all I ever wanted is my father’s affection,” your voice breaks, and you hate the way it makes you feel, “and he’d rather build an entirely new life with an entirely new kid than give it to me.”

You push your way past him, making sure to shoulder-check him on your way out. You don’t look back as you forge your way to the bathroom (that you unfortunately have to share), even though his gaze burns into your back.

You close and lock the door. It’s childish, you know, but you need to be alone right now. You can’t stand to be around him.

Spencer just— he irritates you in a way that no one else ever has. He’s your age and more accomplished than you could ever dream to be, with almost six times the degrees and a much better job, and probably a family that loves him. Who wouldn’t love him with everything he’s done?

You, apparently.

You plant your hands on the countertop as you stare into the mirror. Your usual dark circles have become more pronounced over the past month, and you can’t help a wry laugh at the thought. All that trouble sleeping and it was for the wrong damn reason.

If you knew someone was watching you, you would have moved out of Virginia months ago. But maybe this bastard would have found you anyway. If Spencer’s profiling is right and he’s going after you because of your dad, you don’t think much could really dissuade him.

Tears pool at your waterline, and you wipe them away with a rough hand before they can manifest into something more. You slump back against the opposing wall as you continue to stare at yourself.

You’re pathetic and you can’t even find it in yourself to care.

You hear the sound of footsteps once more and you wrap your arms around your midsection. This chill won’t go away.

“…Are you still alive?” a hesitant voice calls.

You bite back a remark. “I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“No.” You don’t know what makes you answer honestly.

A beat of silence passes. You really do feel like a kid. You’re talking to him through the door because you just yelled at him and Spencer is still being the bigger person.

“Can I help at all?”

This answer comes a little quicker. “No.”

Again, more silence.

“Okay.” Spencer pauses, and the footsteps start again. His voice is a little closer the next time he speaks. “Just… let me know when you’re turning in. So I know you’re still alive.”

You huff. He can’t even stick to his guns and hate you like you hate him for ten minutes. “I don’t think I’ll be dying anytime soon.��

“You never know,” he says. “Spontaneous human combustion might not be proven beyond pseudoscientific concepts, but there’s a first time for everything.”

The laugh that comes out of you is unexpected, both in its lightness and occurrence at all. “Keep an ear out for the smoke alarm, then.”

“If you smell anything burning, stop, drop and roll,” he says. “Make sure you don’t run. All it’ll do is add to the oxygen and feed the fire.”

“Okay,” you say. “…I still don’t like you.”

You swear you can hear the smile in his words. “I know.”

You wake up when the smoke alarm goes off.

It’s a very rude awakening. It jolts you out of your very uneasy sleep to unfamiliar surroundings—in your disoriented state, you almost forget where you are.

Right. You’re in a safe house in the middle of nowhere because someone is stalking you. How could you possibly forget?

You stumble out of bed, rubbing your eyes to try and assuage some of your exhaustion as you leave your room.

“Is the place on fire?” you ask through a yawn.

“No!” Spencer exclaims, sounding more panicked than usual. That straightens your back and speeds your pace. “No, everything’s fine—”

You smell smoke, and as you come around the corner, you see him waving his hands overtop the toaster trying to dispel said smoke. You can’t help but laugh, and you actually smile when he gives you the most helpless look.

“I’m so good at so many other things.”

“What are you trying to do?” you ask wryly. “Burn this house down to try and get a better one?”

“This wouldn’t have started a fire,” Spencer says. “Toaster fires usually spread because they’re below wooden cupboards, which catch easily and spread everywhere else.” He gestures at the toaster, which he has plugged in to an outlet on the side of the island. “No cupboards, no house fire.”

“You started this because you were making toast?” you ask.

He flushes. “I’m used to the toaster I have at home. I have the settings worked out perfectly there. This one is all wrong.”

You sigh and shake your head. “Just… hit the reset button, and open the door. It’ll be fine.”

“I can’t open the door,” he says. “It goes against the safety thing.”

“Then open a window.”

“Making it easier to get in here in any way goes against the safety thing,” he says.

“So we have to just deal with the smoke?” you ask in exasperation.

Spencer hits the vent button on the microwave, and the fan whirs into action. “No?”

You shake your head in disbelief as he then reaches up to hit the button on the smoke alarm. His t-shirt lifts with the movement—your eyes drift to the bare strip of skin, and you immediately look away when you realize.

“Where’s the coffee in here?” you ask, clearing your throat as you start sifting through drawers. “I’ll be even worse to deal with if I don’t have caffeine.”

“I already brewed a fresh pot,” Spencer says, gesturing with his head. “Half and half is in the fridge, and sugar is in the cabinet.”

“Oh,” you say. You stop what you’re doing, your hands lingering above the drawer handle. “You didn’t have to do that.”

You see him shrug out of your peripherals. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Because I was a total asshole to you last night, you want to say. Because I’ve been awful to you since I met you and you refuse to fight back and give me a better reason to hate you.

“Because you didn’t need to,” you finally say. Good one.

“I did. So you’re going to have to deal with it.” Spencer takes the burnt toast out and throws them in the trash can, talking while he does it. “You know, it’s actually a rumor that burnt toast contains carcinogens and can increase the chance of cancer. Acrylamide forms when you burn food, but researchers haven’t found a link between starchy foods with high amounts of acrylamide and cancer.”

You hum in some form of acknowledgement as you take a mug out of the cabinet and fill it from the pot. You take a sip and grimace—it’s not the best, but it’s caffeinated. After three years of shitty gas station coffee throughout college, you can deal with it.

“How did you sleep?” Spencer asks.

“Fine,” you say.

He frowns. “Really?”

“Yes,” you say, a little rougher. “The dark circles come with the model.”

“There are a lot of causes other than sleep deprivation,” Spencer says. “Contact dermatitis, hyperpigmentation, dehydration, alcoholism, stress—”

“Got plenty of that,” you interrupt.

“Even genetics can play a part in it,” he says.

You huff. “I think this is one thing I can’t blame my dad for. I haven’t slept since the nineties.”

“Well, you should try,” Spencer says. “The blood vessels around your eyes don’t constrict like they should when you’re sleep deprived, which means your blood vessels dilate, which increases blood in the area, and that gives you dark circles.”

“Wow,” you say wryly. “I really look that bad with them?”

“I— that—” Spencer’s face flushes red as he stutters, and you hide the slightest smile with your mug— “that’s not what I mean! I’m just trying to give advice to help—”

“I know.” You set your mug back down, not able to fully bite back your amusement. “I was joking, Spencer.”

“Oh,” he says. “That’s… new.”

“Am I not allowed to joke?”

“It just doesn’t seem like you,” Spencer says. “Especially after last night.”

“I’m too tired to fight with you right now,” you sigh. “Enjoy your break.”

He clears his throat as he takes two fresh pieces of bread out, then looks at your mug. “You drink it black?”

“It’s not coffee if you don’t,” you say. “It— it’s a sugary mess.”

“It is not!” he exclaims. “It still has the same amount of caffeine, and it’s still coffee—”

“No it isn’t!” you laugh, and you nod at his mug. “How much sugar did you put in there?”

“A couple spoonfuls but—”

“Spoonfuls?”

“But it’s how I like it!” Spencer defends.

“Don’t you have some facts about how harmful excessive sugar consumption is?” you ask.

“Of course I do,” he says. “I also have some about the benefits of black coffee, but I’m not going to tell you now.”

“Wow,” you say. “I’m so hurt.”

He shakes his head as he slots two more pieces of bread into the toaster. “And to think, I was trying to make breakfast for you.”

Again, that gives you pause. Why does he keep trying to do nice things for you?”

“Don’t bother.” You pick up your mug and go into the living room. “I don’t really eat breakfast anyways.”

“That’s not healthy,” he calls after you.

“Most things I do aren’t,” you respond. “What’s on the agenda today?”

“Skipping breakfast puts you at a higher chance of heart disease,” he says.

“Then I guess we won’t have to worry about the spontaneous combustion, will we?” You look back at him. “What’s on the agenda?”

Spencer sighs. He’s given up momentarily, it seems. “Gideon’s going to call me in thirty-two minutes for an update. The whole team has been focusing solely on your case.”

You perk up. The coffee warms your hands through the mug but it doesn’t fully assuage the chill down your spine.

“Do they have any leads?”

“I don’t know,” Spencer says. “Gideon hasn’t called me yet.”

You roll your eyes. “Do you think they have any leads?”

“Maybe.” The toaster pops and he pulls the bread out, then starts buttering it—or trying to. His brow knots in annoyance at the stick of butter, still hard, and he pushes his glasses up with his free hand. You have to look away. “Like I said, Gideon helped start the BAU. He’s solved more cases than anyone else, and,” you feel his eyes on you, “it’s personal this time. He’s probably working around the clock.”

“Just have to hope they get somewhere,” you murmur. Your coffee tastes even more bitter than usual, but you drink it anyway.

“They will,” Spencer says. “I promise.”

“Y’know, people keep making promises they can’t keep,” you say. “I’m getting real tired of it.”

“Well, I’m not leaving your side until they do,” he says. “And I’m going to keep you safe. So consider that promise kept.”

“Great,” you say. “I’m stuck with you until I die or this is solved.”

“You’re not going to die.”

“You don’t have to take everything I say so seriously.”

“Then don’t say everything so seriously.”

You huff a laugh and shake your head. Spencer comes over with his plate of messily buttered toast—not very easy with fully solid sticks of butter—and sits down across from you. He holds the plate out.

“Want one?”

“I told you, I don’t eat breakfast.”

“You should.”

“Because one piece of toast will make so much of a difference,” you mock.

“It will,” he says. “Maybe it’ll even make you happier.”

You roll your eyes and drink more of your coffee. “Are you going to bother me all day like this?”

Spencer took a bite of toast then shrugged. “If you’re this blase about everything relating to your health, then yes.”

You groan as you stand up. “It’s too early to deal with you. See you in a few hours.”

“And good morning to you too,” Spencer says wryly. You make a parting gesture with your hand in response.

It’s been a day and a half, and not only have you argued with him twice, but he still refuses to give you anything to work with, still insists on trying to be there for you. It’s as infuriating as it is gratingly admirable. Anyone else probably would have tried to kill you by now.

Well, you’ve already got a stalker trying to do that.

You sigh and down half your coffee. You’ve got a long day ahead of you.

Spencer doesn’t know why you not liking him bothers him so much.

It’s illogical, but it makes sense for you. Your dad spends more time with him than he does with you, and you’re projecting your hatred for Gideon onto Spencer. Whatever.

But it’s not just whatever, and that irks him.

This is an assignment, simple as that. Gideon trusted him enough to put you under his protection, even if it’s for your mental health more so than your physical. It should be a point of pride, being chosen for something like this by someone like Gideon.

Spencer presses his fingers against his temple. You’re a lot, there’s no way around it. But you also claim to hate him, and he knows that’s not true.

Yes, you argue with him. Yes, you’re short with him. Yes, he lost his temper momentarily because not even Spencer is capable of endless grace.

But he also sees your moments of lightness throughout it all. Your brief smiles, the quips that lean towards jokes more than insults—and he notices your eyes, and the brightness that breaks through on occasion.

He always notices your eyes.

Spencer’s phone rings in his pocket, jolting him out of whatever reverie he found himself in. He pulls it out and flips it open, then presses it to his ear. “Gideon?”

“Reid,” he greets. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” he says. “You’re calling twenty-four minutes early.”

“We just finished a briefing,” Gideon says. “I wanted to get word to you as soon as possible.”

Spencer sits up. “What is it?”

“Morgan, Hotch, and Garcia have been working together to comb through my past cases and see what they’re up to now. They finally found a potential unsub,” he says. “Someone I put away a decade ago was released last year, and recent records indicate he’s back in the area.”

“Who is it?” he asks.

“Adam Hernandez. Also known as—”

“The Stafford Strangler,” Spencer finishes. “He killed three people in two weeks in the 90s—classic spree killer. You caught him with David Rossi’s help.”

“Released on good behavior, despite the victims’ families campaigning against it,” Gideon says. “You know it?”

“Obviously,” he says. “I’ve read all of your old case files.”

Gideon chuckles, and he can almost imagine him shaking his head. “Of course you have.”

“Do you think Hernandez is your guy?” Spencer asks.

“I’m not sure yet,” Gideon says. “We applied for a warrant—as soon as we get it, Morgan and Elle are heading his way to ask a few questions.”

“You think he’d do something like this?” Spencer shifts his position as he frowns. “Hernandez got fired, lost his house, then went off the deep end. He killed because he didn’t see any other solution. The guy going after your daughter is a lot more emotional about all this, and—” his throat feels dry all of a sudden— “and it’s like he’s got some kind of attraction to her.”

“You don’t need to remind me,” Gideon says roughly. “We’re going for leads where we can, and we’re still working every other angle. It doesn’t end with Hernandez.”

“...Good,” Spencer says. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help from here.”

“You’re already doing everything I need you to do.” Gideon pauses, and he hears the creak of the chair in his office as he adjusts how he’s sitting. “How is my daughter doing?”

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “Her mood changes with the wind. One second she’s trying to start a fight with me, the next she’s trying to joke around with me. It— it’s a lot, I won’t lie.”

“But how is she handling all of this?” he asks. “Staying in the safe house, dealing with a stalker, feeling like a sitting duck.”

“Very cynically,” Spencer says. “She keeps talking about dying or getting killed.”

Gideon sighs. “That sounds like her.”

“She’s… she’s mad at you, mostly.” Spencer picks at a hangnail, ignoring the sharp, temporary pain. “Every time I bring you up, it lights a fuse. You’re the one thing she hates to talk about.”

There’s nothing but silence on the other end.

“Gideon?” he asks. “Did I lose—”

“I’m here,” he interrupts. “Just… thinking.”

“It’s not your fault,” Spencer says. “She’s—”

“It is my fault,” Gideon interrupts again. “Has she told you much about her younger life?”

“...Some,” Spencer says.

“Like?”

Spencer doesn’t really know what to say. He doesn’t want to just tell Gideon that you’ve told him he’s been an awful dad. That it’s really all you’ve told him.

“You can say it, Reid,” Gideon says. “I won’t get mad.”

“...She says you’ve missed out on her whole life,” Spencer finally says, notably quieter. “Her high school graduation, her college graduation— most of the stuff that happened in college, actually.”

Gideon lets out a rough sigh. “I’ll always regret it.”

“So it’s true?” Spencer asks. He’s surprised at the sharpness of his voice.

“I don’t get to control when cases come in,” he says.

“We’re a whole team of qualified agents,” Spencer says. “We— we always have been. Especially when you and Rossi were together. It was like the golden age of profilers.”

“Spencer—”

“You made it to my graduation!” he interrupts. “You were there for my chemistry PhD, and you said you would be there when I get my philosophy degree, but you couldn’t make it for your only child’s high school and college graduations?”

“I already told you I regret it,” Gideon says. His voice is as calm as ever, and for some reason, that irks Spencer even more. “What more can I say? It’s in the past now. I can’t change what I did.”

Spencer stares at the wall. He doesn’t know why this is such a damning thing to him.

His own dad has missed all of his graduations. He’s missed almost every part of his life. But his dad walked out—he wanted nothing to do with Spencer or his mom.

Your dad is right here. Gideon is still around, working every day to save lives and change the world and take down monsters—but he’s still not there for you.

He’s so close and yet he always steps out of your reach.

“Spencer.” Gideon’s voice is tinny through the speaker, and he presses his phone back against his ear.

“Call me back the second you get another lead,” Spencer mutters.

He hangs up without another word.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #gideon!reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds angst #x reader #sadie writes #and yes. reader heard spencer's whole side of the convo<3

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silent-stories · 7 hours ago

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𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Series summary: When Noah was left alone to take care of his daughter about two years ago, he never thought he would find someone else he would trust enough to include in his little family. But things can change.

Series masterlist

"Okay, recap moment," you began, sitting at a table in the café with Rick, Folio, and Grace, the sun beginning to set outside and filling the room with hues of red and orange.

"Ever since Jason came back to town, he’s wanted to win you back," Rick explained again after taking a slow sip from his coffee, his voice tinged with guilt. "And he asked for my help, because apparently I’m his only friend."

"So, the psycho has been trying to get your attention all this time," Folio interjected, "and when Noah left for a couple of days, he thought it was the perfect opportunity to do something that would drive a wedge between you two."

"So, he had you leave him," you pointed to Rick, "in front of Noah’s house after he got drunk, knowing that the next morning, Noah would find him there and think I'd cheated on him."

Rick lowered his eyes, unable to meet your gaze. "Yeah... that was exactly what he was hoping for. He knew Noah would be hurt, and he knew that would push him away from you."

"Noah didn’t want to listen to what you had to say because he thought what happened with Hannah was about to happen again. And now, he feels awful because he thinks it's his fault—like he can’t keep someone who loves him around," Folio continued.

"And you feel guilty because if you had realized Jason’s intentions sooner, maybe you could have stopped this from happening," Rick added, concluding the chain of events.

"Wow," Grace remarked. "I still have so many questions."

"Yeah, me too," Rick agreed. "Like, why are you even still here? You had nothing to do with any of this."

"Hey! I work here too, okay?" Grace shot back. "I have every right to stay as long as I want."

“So,” you turned to Folio, disregarding the bickering between the punk guy and your friend, or whoever Grace was to you, “what do you think I should do?”

"Go to him," Folio urged. "Talk things through. Please. I can’t keep watching him like this. I don’t think he’s showered in two weeks."

Grace wrinkled her nose.

"I'm sorry," Rick apologized. "If I hadn’t helped Jason, maybe none of this would have happened."

"Well, that’s how things played out," you replied. "And there’s no turning back."

"But things can still be fixed if you both put aside your fears and have a real conversation," Grace encouraged.

Folio leaned back in his chair, his gaze softening. "Exactly. It might not be easy, but if you want to fix things, this is where it starts."

"I’m not sure he wants to talk to me," you said, your voice uncertain as you stared down at the table, trying to sort through your swirling thoughts.

Grace looked at you, her expression a mix of frustration and concern. "Oh, please!" she exclaimed, leaning forward onto the table. "We know he loves you, and you love him. And it’s so obvious you both are suffering now! If you go to him and tell him everything was part of Jason’s plan, and that his weird friend here explained how things really went down, he’ll listen. I promise you!"

Rick shook his head, smirking but with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Hey, weird friend to who, Barbie with black hair?"

Grace just rolled her eyes.

Folio sighed, but his voice grew more serious. "Look, trust me. Go to him, tomorrow. It’s been two weeks, and he’s starting to realize he let you go just because he was too scared. You can’t just sit around waiting for him to make the first move because he won't. He's in a depressive mood right now."

A silence fell for a moment as you thought about their words. Folio's eyes were sincere, and for a brief second, it felt like there was still a chance to fix things. You took a deep breath, the weight of the decision settling over you.

Finally, you nodded. "Okay," you said softly, "I’ll do it."

After Grace and Folio left, you and Rick stood outside the café, the cool evening air pressing against you as the sunset faded into the night. The streets were quieter now, the hum of the city barely reaching you.

Rick shifted uncomfortably, his hands in his pockets as he avoided your gaze. "I… I’m sorry," he said finally, his voice low. "I know you probably hate me right now for helping Jason, for being his friend. I know what I did was wrong. But he was the only friend I ever had, you know? And I just... I always did what he asked, because I didn’t want to lose him. I thought if I kept helping him, I’d prove I was a good friend. But looking at it now, I see I was just blinded by that need to belong. I'm so fucking stupid."

You were silent for a moment, taking in what he said. It didn’t make you angry. Instead, a sense of understanding washed over you. You shook your head gently. "I’m not mad at you, Rick," you said softly. "I don’t think you’re a bad person. You just... you need better friends. Friends who aren’t going to pull you into things like this. Friends who won’t take advantage of your loyalty."

Rick’s shoulders slumped as if a weight had been lifted, but there was still a trace of guilt on his face. "I don’t deserve your forgiveness," he muttered.

"You don’t have to deserve it," you replied with a small smile. "People make mistakes. What matters is what we do after." You paused for a moment, thinking carefully about the next words you wanted to say. "You can come see me, us, at the café anytime. If you ever need to talk, or just... hang out. I'm sure Noah would like you too, you know? You punched Jason, after all."

He looked up at you, his eyes slightly wide, as if your words were a relief he hadn’t expected. "Thanks. Really. I know I messed up, but I’m done following Jason. I’ve made my choice."

You nodded. "I’m glad to hear that."

Rick smiled, though it was a little uncertain at first. "I’ll come by sometime."

As you both turned to leave, you gave Rick one last look. "Thanks again, Rick. Take care."

And with that, you parted ways, but not with the same weight on your shoulders you had carried earlier. Things could get better—for both of you.

Noah sat on the couch, his legs stretched out in front of him, trying his best to smile as he tickled Luna, her giggles filling the air. It was a soft sound, the kind of laughter that once brought him a sense of peace, but now it felt like a distant memory.

He tried to focus on her, on her innocent joy, but the weight of everything pressing on him still felt unbearable. He could hardly summon the energy to keep up with her playful energy.

"Daddy! Knights don’t tickle princesses!” she said, holding up a finger as if to emphasize her point as she laughed.

"Oh really? So why am I doing that now?"

"Because you are a bad knight, daddy!"

Noah let go and finally dropped his hands to his sides, letting the kid breathe.

Luna, her tiny hands gripping his arm as she attempted to climb onto his lap, paused for a moment and looked at him with her big, innocent eyes. She tilted her head to one side, sensing that something was off. "Daddy," she said in her small, soft voice, "will Y/N come today?"

The question hit Noah like a punch to the stomach. He froze for a second, trying to think, his chest tightening as his mind raced for an answer. How could he explain this to her? How could he possibly tell his three-year-old daughter that the woman who had been a constant presence in their lives, the woman he had loved, was gone and might never return?

He forced a smile as he moved some strands of hair from her little chubby face, but it felt hollow. "No, sweetie," he said softly, trying to keep the sadness from his voice. "Y/N won't be coming here for a while."

Luna’s face fell for a moment, and Noah’s heart twisted at the sight. She didn’t understand, not fully. But she could already feel the absence. She blinked and then asked, her voice so innocent and hopeful, "Oh, is she on vacation?"

Noah nodded slowly, trying to hold it together. He swallowed hard, not knowing what else to say. "Yeah," he replied quietly. "She’s on vacation."

Luna seemed to accept that answer, her small face brightening again, and Noah couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. Was he lying to her? He didn’t know. But he couldn’t tell her the truth. Not yet. Not when he was still trying to figure it all out himself.

“Oh,” Luna said, her voice soft and wistful. “I wish I could go with her. I want to see the mountains with Y/N.”

Noah’s heart broke a little more as she spoke, the simple, innocent wish from his daughter ringing in his ears.

He looked down at her, her eyes filled with that pure, untainted hope, and he could feel the weight of the world on his shoulders. He wished things were different, wished he could turn back time and make the mess he had created disappear. But all he could do now was nod, his voice filled with emotion as he replied, “Yeah… me too.”

His gaze fell on the beaded bracelet on his wrist, the bracelet Luna had made with you. She seemed so happy when she gave it to him, saying that you and she had one similar too that Noah couldn't say no. He wondered where you put yours. If it was lying forgotten at the bottom of a trash can or if he was on your wrist too and if you were thinking about him like he was thinking about you looking at it.

The pink was an extreme contrast to his tattoos in a way that made him smile and made his skin burn at the same time.

Luna didn’t seem to sense the weight of his words. Instead, she smiled brightly, her small hands gripping his shirt as she pulled herself closer to him. “Maybe when Y/N comes back, we can all go to the mountains together, Daddy. And see bears.”

Noah’s throat tightened, and he could barely choke out a laugh. "Maybe," he said quietly, his voice breaking just a little. “Maybe we can.”

That late evening, you were at home, the wind outside picking up, howling against the windows.

But then, through the noise, you heard something else—faint, almost drowned out by the gusts of wind. It was a soft whimpering sound. You froze, wondering if you’d imagined it. Another sound followed, louder this time, and it was unmistakable.

You quickly made your way to the door, heart racing. Was someone out there? You opened the door cautiously. The wind whipped around you, but you could make out something small huddling near the porch steps.

A tiny, scruffy ball of fur, sat there looking up at you. You bent down, your breath catching in your throat. A small puppy—probably only a few months old—was staring up at you with big, wide eyes, the color of dark amber. The fur on its body was matted and dirty, but you could tell that, despite its appearance, it wasn’t in horrible condition. It was skinny, too, ribs showing a bit too much through its dirty fur but it didn’t seem too malnourished.

You crouched down, reaching out cautiously, speaking in a soft voice, “Hey there, little one… where did you come from?” The puppy didn’t flinch, but tilted its head at you, studying you curiously, its little tail flicking.

“Do you have a home?” you asked again, more gently this time, hoping it could understand. It just stared at you, unblinking, before it started to shuffle forward, its paws making soft noises on the porch.

“Well, I guess you don’t have a place to go, do you?” you sighed, your heart already melting at the sight of the poor thing. The puppy continued its advance, slowly squeezing between your legs and making its way into the house. You blinked, surprised, but then a soft laugh escaped you.

“Okay, I guess you've already decided where you're going to stay,” you said with a smile, closing the door behind you. You watched the little creature wander inside.

You paused for a moment, your mind spinning with what to do next. You glanced around the small space, eyes landing on the kitchen. Your fridge. Maybe there was something you could feed it.

Opening the fridge, you found some leftover chicken, cooked and ready to go. Without hesitation, you grabbed it, placing it down on a plate for the pup. You watched as the little dog immediately pounced on the food, devouring it in a matter of seconds, the sound of its chewing filling in the silence of the house.

As the dog finished, you crouched down beside it, rubbing its back, and you finally understood the puppy was a male. “What now, little one? You just going to stay here with me?” you asked, your voice soft.

The dog responded with a loud, excited bark, his tail wagging furiously as he jumped up in front of you, as if to say “Yes, please!”

You chuckled lightly. “Guess that’s a yes,” you smiled, patting the puppy’s head.

“Alright then, you can stay with me for now.”

Without thinking twice, you picked the little thing up, holding him carefully in your arms as you carried him toward the bathroom.

You turned on the tap, filling the bathtub with warm water, and carefully set the puppy down.

You took your time, softly scrubbing the dirt out of his brown and black fur.

Just as you were finishing up, the puppy suddenly shook his body, spraying water everywhere. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, the tiny creature soaking your clothes and the bathroom floor, but you didn’t mind. The laugh felt good, like a release, like a bit of normalcy in the chaos that had surrounded you lately.

“You really know how to make a mess, huh?” you said, wiping your face with the back of your hand as the dog looked up at you, his fur dripping wet and his expression utterly adorable.

After a few more moments, you helped the puppy out of the tub and wrapped it in a towel, rubbing it gently to dry it off. He seemed to enjoy the attention, snuggling into the towel as if it had finally found a safe place. You sat on the floor with him for some moments.

Then, you looked down at the tiny creature, now dry and warm, curled up on the towel beside you, his little eyes closing in contentment. “You're a good boy,” you said softly, smiling as the puppy let out a quiet yawn.

That night, he whined until you picked him up and let him sleep in the bed with you, his body pressed close to yours, keeping you almost as warm as Noah's had.

The next morning, before going to the café, you left enough food and water around for the dog before heading out, promising to think of a suitable name for him.

When you were at work, it had started raining, and when you stepped out of the coffee shop during the afternoon, it hadn't stopped yet.

The cold rain immediately soaked through your clothes as you reached your car.

The city streets were slick with water, and the dull hum of distant thunder echoed in the sky, but you barely noticed. Your mind was consumed with the need to reach Noah. You had to. You had already waited too much.

You got in, slammed the door, and turned the key. Nothing. You tried again. And again. The engine sputtered but refused to start, the engine light flashing mockingly at you in the dark interior. Your heart sank. You cursed under your breath and tried once more, but the car just refused to cooperate. It was as if the universe itself had decided that this was not the night for you to see Noah, that fate was conspiring against you, and all the progress you'd just made would come crashing down.

"This is ridiculous," you muttered, staring helplessly at the wheel. Frustration surged inside you, and you felt a lump rise in your throat. The rain was pouring harder now, and everything felt like it was falling apart.

But then, in that moment of frustration, something shifted inside you. You wiped your damp face with the back of your hand and exhaled, steadying yourself. This wasn’t the end, not yet. You weren’t going to give up this easily.

Noah was waiting for you. Even if maybe he didn’t know that. You couldn’t afford to let something as trivial as a car breaking down stop you.

"Fine," you whispered to yourself, the determination in your voice solidifying. "I’ll walk."

Without another thought, you opened the door, slammed it shut, and stepped back out into the pouring rain. The streets blurred with each step you took, your soaked clothes clinging to you as you began your journey toward Noah, your mind set on one thing: You needed to see him.

The rain was hitting the ground in heavy, unrelenting sheets, turning the streets into rivers when you reached Noah's house. The sound of it pounded against your ears, drowning out everything else. You stood there, drenched to the bone, the cold water soaking through your coat and clothes, your hair was wet, dripping down and sending a chill through your neck, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except getting to Noah.

Nothing mattered except Noah.

The cold air pressed against your skin, your heart pounded in your chest, thoughts spinning.

You reached the front door, the familiar house looming before you, but it wasn’t the same. It didn’t feel like home anymore. Not when everything had been shattered, and the quiet that hung between you two was almost suffocating.

Finally, you pressed the doorbell, the sound of it echoing louder in the still night than you had anticipated. The seconds felt like hours, and then, the door creaked open.

There he was, standing in the doorway, but he wasn’t the same Noah. His eyes were tired, bloodshot from lack of sleep, and his face was drawn. The person you had known—the one who laughed with you late at night, the one who made you feel safe—felt distant now, a ghost of the man you had loved.

He looked at you, and for a moment, there was nothing but silence as the rain kept pouring all around you. He didn’t say a word. Didn’t even move. You couldn't read him, it was like he was trying to keep you at arm’s length, afraid that if you got too close, you might shatter him further.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words felt like they were stuck in your throat. What could you even say? How could you explain what had happened, explain how everything had fallen apart because of one man's manipulation? You knew this was your fault, too.

“Noah,” you said, voice shaky as you finally met his gaze. “I... I need to talk to you. Please.”

His expression remained overall hard, a wall that you couldn’t break through, not yet. He looked down for a moment, his jaw tightening, as if he was fighting the urge to turn away from you.

But when he looked at you, his eyes were soft, as if despite everything he couldn't look at you with anger.

"What?" he muttered, his voice strained, as if a single word was causing him physical pain.

You took a deep breath.

"Ever since Jason came back to town, I—I didn’t see it. I didn’t want to see it. I thought that chapter was closed, that he was a thing of the past, that I was done with him. And I was. Because I love you and I'll always love you and only you. But he wasn’t done with me. I should’ve known. And I... I was too fucking stupid to realize he never wanted to let me go. Not really. He wanted to win me back, to tear us apart, and I was blind to it."

He just stared at you, so you kept talking. Seeing him like that was absolutely breaking you.

"He asked Rick for help, a friend of his that understood he was doing something wrong and talked to me. And Rick, he... he just wanted to be a good friend. He didn’t understand. But Jason—he used Rick, manipulated him, got him to leave him drunk in front of your house, knowing that I would let him in because I am too fucking srupid and too fucking nice. He knew that you’d think I cheated on you. Knowing that you’d be hurt, that you'd doubt me, that it would rip us apart. He had everything planned. And I—I let it happen. I didn’t even see it coming. I didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late, until I saw the way you looked at me like I let you down like your ex. And I've never wanted that.

And now... now I’m standing here, soaked to the skin because I always forget to bring an umbrella with me and because I care about you, trying to find the right words, but there’s no easy way to explain this. No way to take back the pain I caused you. No way to undo what Jason did. But I need you to know this... I love you. More than anything. More than I ever thought I could love someone.

And I’m so fucking sorry for the mess I’ve made and for letting Jason ruin everything. I’m so sorry I didn’t see what Jason was doing. I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner that I was losing you, that I was pushing you away when all I’ve ever wanted is to be with you.

I love you more than I ever knew how to say. I love you more than anything. And I need you to know that, to believe that, because it’s the truth. You’re the only thing that matters to me and I miss you. And I miss Luna. And I miss the family we built. The three of us. And if you can find it in your heart to forgive me... I swear, I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right. But please, Noah, don’t let me lose you. Not like this. Not because of an asshole who thought he had power on someone else's love."

After you finished confessing, Noah looked at you with a mix of confusion and concern for a moment, his brow furrowing as his gaze flickered over your drenched form. "Why are you completely soaked?"

You couldn't help but smile softly, a little amusement tugging at the corner of your lips, despite the moment. "My car wouldn’t start," you replied, trying to sound lighthearted, almost as if it was a silly inconvenience. "So I walked."

Before you could say anything more, Noah’s expression softened even more, and without another word, he stepped forward in the rain. His lips found yours with a sudden intensity, and it was like everything else melted away. You smiled against his mouth, the taste of him so sweet, so right, that it felt like you could stay in this moment forever.

You had longed for the sensation of his lips on yours, the warmth of his tongue dancing with yours, and the comfort of his arms wrapped around you for days.

His hair clung to his forehead as the rain soaked him through, and without thinking, you reached up to brush it aside, your fingers grazing the damp strands as you continued to kiss him, your hearts racing in sync. It was perfect. It was real. The kiss lingered, deepening, as if neither of you wanted it to end, until the air between you both ran out and you both pulled back, gasping for breath.

Noah’s hands were still on your hips, pushing you close to him.

His voice was low and vulnerable as he whispered against your lips, "I’ve dreamed of this moment for fifteen nights. I thought you hated me..I'm sorry I told you to leave. I was scared to lose you and so fucking jealous. I've never wanted you to leave. I love you.

I loved you from the first moment I walked into the café with Luna barely able to speak, when she raised her little hand to say hi. She didn't do it with anyone. But she did it with you. Maybe she also understood at that moment that you were going to be the most important person in both our lives."

You couldn’t help but smile, the warmth flooding back into your chest at the sound of his words. "I’ve walked in the rain for forty minutes for you," you murmured, your voice soft but full of certainty. "I’d say I don’t hate you at all."

He chuckled, the sound of it wrapping around you like a warm blanket. God, you'd missed that sound so bad. "I’d say I don’t hate you at all either," he replied, a grin tugging at his lips, and then he kissed you again, softer this time, as if savoring every second, every drop of rain falling around you both.

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lacy1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme @hurricanesfollowyou @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @missduffsblog

TBAF Tags: @klutzy-kay24 @mrscevans @concreteangel92 @iconic-taurus @niicoleleigh @cheyyyyr @supersquirrel1996 @respectfulrebel @clickmedead @whenyouwannafindlove @kenjipepsi1

#noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian x oc #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian #bad omens #bad omens fanfiction #dad!noah sebastian #dad noah sebastian x reader #tbaf #to build a family

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ghostmoon1 · 3 days ago

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You know what, to start the year off, Imma make this lil appreciation post.

Now it's only been like, less than a year since I joined Tumblr about, I've been writing and drawing for years before this point, but the community here, especially the CoD community which I am mainly apart of just made me feel amazing. Everyone I've met here are some of the nicest people.

I have gotten my old hobbies back, giving me reason to write and draw again which have majorly helped with my own mental health, and now I just wanted to give the amazing people a shout out to start the year off, to hopefully make peoples days, and to just let them know that I appreciate yall!

In no specific order :3 and if you don't wanna be pinged again by me, please let me know and I won't!! No harm done, I hope this is okay :) and this is prob gonna be cringe or smt.. all sappy but like.Yeah here yall are lmao-

Putting them under the cut as there are a few :3

@gomzdrawfr - You've been a massive influence since I joined the CoD community, I adored your art from the very start, and your just such a sweet and kind person, one that I'm so thankful to have met, and so proud to be able to call you my friend. You're the first proper friend I've made here, and I can't tell you how much our talks make me smile every single time. And I'm also so thankful for the community you have sorta helped me get into, you've helped me feel comfortable interacting with more people here :3

@shadeops21 - You were honestly the person that got me to join Tumblr! I was looking for something to try and make my own Konig cosplay (that's been given up on bc motivation and Tik Tok just. yeahhh) and I found you, and all your amazing work! I basically made my account to see if you'd make any more, cause I just love what you do so much, it's got to be so helpful for so many people!!

@sleepyconfusedpotato - After Shadeops, you were the very second person I found here! And oh my gosh how much I obsessed (and still do) over your art, especially Jade. You inspired me to write my first ever fic on here, actually, where I made my first CoD oc ship with Soap, your art and what you do honestly helped me feel comfortable making something like that for myself, cause some of the toxic people on Tik Tok made me uneasy and unsure about that lol- And now, I finally have an OC I'm working in depth on, and you're my biggest reason to thank for that.

@soaps-mohawk - Your writing has inspired me so much, and I couldn't thank you enough for making your wonderful fic. I may not be like, a OG, but I've been there since around chapter 20 I think? I could be wrong, but half way through sorta. You are the biggest reason I started writing again here, you just create masterpieces. And this is the first time I've ever been hooked into a fic so much, and what got me into liking the Omegaverse (you hooked me and I can't let go of it now...) Thank you for taking your time with your writing, and thank you for all the inspiration you have given me.

@on-a-lucky-tide - Oh my gosh how much you have yanked me into the Nikprice community. I adore every single one of your writing pieces, and honestly, you are another who has helped inspire me to write more. All your writing is so filled with emotion and love, I want to be able to do that as well. Your a wonderful person, I've seen you interact with this community and everyone, and I just adore you as a person and all the hard work you put time and effort into creating.

@rainyrambles-overcod - I adore your oc's and rambles so much!! And I couldn't tell you how happy it makes me to have a friend that is okay with the tag games, I never know who to tag for those sorta things, but I actually feel okay tagging you and they are so fun and always brighten my mood :3 Keep creating, I can't wait to see what else you come up with. Thank you for all the tag games and fun!!

@nekrosmos - Yet another that has helped drag me into the Nikprice community or cult ig that too. Your art is absolutely amazing, I truly want to be able to draw like you do. Just everything about your art has me in awe, the emotion, the style, the love everything. Seeing your art brings me so much happiness! Oh and your writing is BEAUTIFUL. That also brings me joy to take a little time out of my day to sit and read the time and effort you put into everything, and how kind of a person you are. I always hope you'll keep creating, and always remember how much joy you bring both myself and others.

@daredaredoodles - I know we don't interact a whole lot, but you honestly mean a lot to me still. You were my first ever mutual on this site, and I will be forever grateful for this. Personally its anxiety that stops me from barging into peoples Dm's and talking, but yeah. Thank you for that, even if it is only a small thing.

@cricricorner - you were my first follower, and I still see you in my notifications from time to time, which always brings me joy! It's wonderful to see your followers still interact with your content, and I couldn't say how grateful I am. I couldn't tell you how happy I was to gain my first follower here, so thank you for taking your time to read my writing and see my art.

@daydreamsareallineed - You were pretty much the first person to show so much interest in my main fic!! And oh my gosh I couldn't ever tell you how much joy it brought me to read your comments, to have someone so interested in my writing, that personally I didn't even think was that good. I haven't given up completely on the fic dw, I'll hopefully update it soon! Motivation just go brrr. Thank you so much for all your support, it means the world to me.

And another shoutout to everyone who supports me, who follows me, and to every single one of you that like and reblog my content. I look through every single note I receive, I assure you none of you are left out.

And my final shoutout to everyone that creates on this site. The community here is like nothing I've ever experienced before. I adore scrolling through everyone's art, it all makes my day. I've never felt so comfortable and unjudged before. Thank you to everyone who contributes to this, you all make my day <3

This turned out a lot longer than I meant it to be- but I just wanted to share how I felt with this new year. I'm sorry if you'd rather not be pinged-

But have a lovely day :3 I love you all!!

#moonie talks

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sirjaketkiszka · 3 days ago

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Jake Kiszka One Shot: Sinners

Father Jacob Thomas Kiszka visits you late at night.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Priest!Jake Kiszka x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,925

Warnings: 18+!!, sexual content, light cursing, mentions of guilt, breaking religious vows, kissing/first kiss, neck kissing/biting, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, cream pie, multiple orgasms (2), and, of course, mediocre writing.

(Please don’t hesitate to let me know if I missed any warnings.)

Disclaimer: Apologies for any potential spelling errors or grammar mistakes.

a/n- I hope this will hold you over while I get my bearings. This one shot was written months ago, and I eventually decided I wanted to write a full-length fic about it, which is how It’s a Sin came to be. Funny enough, the idea came to me in a dream, if you can believe it. I know this isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but I hope you enjoy it if you do decide to give it a try. <3

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

The quick, aggressive knocking at your front door pulls you away from your nightly reading. It’s currently ten o’clock, so you have no idea who could be visiting at this time. Cautiously, you rise from the sunken cushions of your worn couch, the gentle crumple of the leather silenced by the clamorous mid-October downpour.

When you reach the door, you lean forward to look through the peephole. His presence causes a small gasp to push past your parted lips and enter your lungs. Without a moment passing, you rush to unlock the chain, deadbolt, and lock on the handle, swiftly swinging the door open.

“Father Jacob, is something wrong?” You ask, motioning for him to come in, “Please, get out of the rain.” His hair is soaked making little droplets of rainwater fall off the ends when he steps into your home. Too distracted by his presence, you don’t even notice the small puddle that follows him.

“I’m sorry for the intrusion,” His polite voice cuts through the deafening rain, but he doesn’t answer your question.

“It’s okay,” You wave him off, shutting the door once he’s inside, “Can I get you a cup of tea?” His back is to you, his head turning in different directions to observe your home, making you feel slightly self-conscious of the disorganization.

“That’d be lovely,” He turns his head to you, a small smile pulling at his lips.

Nodding, you rush to the kitchen to fix him a cup, letting the water boil in the kettle while you return to the living room. His pitch-black petticoat drips in his wake, leaving a trail of water droplets along your hardwood oak floors. “Can I take your coat?” You ask.

“I won’t be long,” He says, his vague attitude making you uneasy.

“Can I ask why you’re here, Father?” You maintain a distance from him, watching him as he turns from his position at your overstuffed bookshelf, finally looking at you.

“I’m not entirely sure,” He frowns, deep in thought, “I suppose something told me to come here.”

“Right,” You can’t help but chuckle, “What else did they tell you?”

“You were calling to me,” He admits, stepping closer and slowly closing the distance between you two, the heels of his dress shoes making a deep clicking sound.

“I’m not following,” You confess your confusion, your arms crossing over your chest, and slight irritation rising in your throat. Why does he always talk in riddles?

He continues his long strides until he’s directly in front of you, his husky scent filling your senses. You notice the beads of water along the sides of his face, and strands of hair sticking to his neck. His white collar stands out from his dark appearance with every clothing item being stark black, emphasizing its purity and, in turn, your guilt. Swallowing thickly, you advert your gawking eyes and hold his gaze, “Why won’t you come to Sunday service?” He asks, his voice deep with concern.

“Is that what this is about?” You scoff, stepping back half a foot, “This could’ve waited until our next house call– when I inevitably tell you that I’m not interested.”

“I’m not asking you to come,” He discloses, making you quirk a brow, “I want to know why you won’t come.”

“It’s not my scene, I guess,” Shrugging, you uncross your arms and let them fall to your sides, “I didn’t grow up religious.” You clarify, not wanting to divulge into the real reason.

“And you’re happy?” He asks, but not in a way that’s a jab at you.

“I’d say I am– I have everything I want,” You admit contently, but your eyes subconsciously trace down his stature, and you sigh, whispering to yourself, “Almost everything.”

There’s no response from him, only a heavy exhale through his nose, the air brushing your tense features. Meeting his eyes again, your eyebrows scrunch when his bores into yours, the black of his pupils doubling in size. The incessant downpour on your tall windows seems to muffle, and your ears ring when an invisible force pulls you to him. Fighting it, you notice his mutual restraint, his lips parting and eyebrows mirroring yours when his gaze shoots to your plump lips.

“Father–” You whisper, and his feet shuffle closer, but the blaring whistle of the boiled water forces you apart. The two of you shoot to opposite ends, chests heaving like you’ve run a marathon, both gazes looking anywhere but each other. “Water’s ready,” You say, clearing your throat and escaping to the kitchen. Silently cursing to yourself, you shut off the stove, the ear-piercing whistle dissipating into a whimper.

Needing a moment to yourself, your trembling hands plant themselves on your hips, your eyes squeezing shut and your head tilting back. The rapid pounding of your pulse fills your ears, making you oblivious to Father Jacob’s entrance.

When he clears his throat, you swiftly turn around with your back against the cold granite counter, your hands gripping the ledge behind you. You open your mouth to say something, but only a choked sound comes out, the heartbeat in your throat preventing you from speaking. He shakes his head, silently telling you to not talk as he steps closer.

His movements halt when the tips of his shoes connect with your bare feet, the both of you engulfed in each other’s scent. His overbearing presence fogs your mind, intoxicating you and causing you to only look at his lips. As if reading your mind, he leans forward, stopping only mere centimeters away from your face. Your noses graze each other, small pants exiting both of your lips and dangling in the space between you two.

He pauses for a moment, reveling in the sheer closeness of the two of you. Your wild eyes search his face, and his flutter close as he lets out a shaky breath, “Can I kiss you?” He finally asks.

“Please,” You let out in a desperate whisper, making him quietly groan in response. Sucking in a deep breath through his nose, his lips crash against yours, but they don’t move. The soft flesh of your lips mold to his stiff pucker, and you let out a content sigh when your eyes close. Releasing the counter, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him deeper into you.

His shaky hands find your waist, their slight tremble disappearing when he grips firmly, clinging onto you. For a moment, you pull away, but immediately replace your lips, encouraging him to soften his. You feel his tense shoulders relax when you kiss him back, and his stiffness morphs into fluidity.

When you swipe your tongue along his bottom lip, he jerks away, letting out a breathless chuckle, and you open your eyes to look at him, “Are you okay?” You ask, knowing this must be a lot for him, and he nods, “Have you… Have you been kissed before, Father?” You question, already knowing the answer.

“I haven’t,” He confesses meekly, his head hanging slightly, “Is it that obvious?” He lets out a light laugh, the previous tension completely melted from his features.

“Not at all,” You lie, “Do you want to keep going? We can stop—”

“I wouldn’t know what to do,” He admits, a tinge of pink rising to the peak of his hollow cheeks, and you nod understandingly.

“It’s okay, we really don’t have to,” You reassure him, your hands absentmindedly tracing your fingers through his scalp, still wet from the rain.

“I want to,” He rushes out, his fingers tightening on your waist as if you were going to leave him, “Can… Can you teach me?” His question causes warmth to blossom in your chest, and in response, your face paints itself with hues of blush pink.

“Of course,” You smile, leaning into his lips again, “Just follow my lead,” You whisper against him, and he gently nods before you softly kiss him, both of you closing your eyes at the feeling.

You resume the previous rhythm, your lips moving smoothly against his. A small whimper catches in his throat when you swipe your tongue along his bottom lip again, prompting him to part them. When your tongues collide, he tastes of fresh mint and a hint of whiskey, the sensation shooting straight to your core.

His hands on your waist urge you to sit on the counter behind you and the cold surface bleeds through your thin pajama pants, spreading goosebumps down your legs and up your arms. Without breaking the kiss, you part your legs to allow him to stand between them, your spine slouching to meet his now-lowered height. Your knees sit snugly against his waist, your ankles locking behind his back and keeping him against you.

Sliding your hands from his hair to the sides of his face, you cup his heated cheeks as you give him chaste kisses, finally pulling away. The both of you are panting, and his plump lips are a deep shade of red, surely reflecting your own.

“Tell me how to touch you,” He breathes out, his chest rising and falling rapidly as his eyes take in your flushed appearance. His hands release your waist, shakily traveling down to your spread knees, resting on the bent joints. “Please,” He adds.

Nodding, you remove one of your hands from his face, and grab one of his hands, slowly guiding it up your thigh and dipping between your legs. You hold back a gasp when you guide his long fingers to press against your clothed center. Holding his wrist, you instruct him to rub thorough circles against your aching core, and your jaw hangs agape to reflect your pleasure. “Just like that,” You sigh, your head resting against the cupboard behind you.

Your hand hovers above his wrist, allowing him to do most of the work as your hips grind against the counter. Small gasps and needy whimpers push past your swollen lips, and he can’t help but look at you, his amplified pupils nearly conquering the remaining rich brown of his irises.

“Does that feel good?” He asks, his voice strained, a sense of worry lacing his question.

“God, yes,” You whisper out in a quick breath, “Sorry,” You quickly apologize for saying his God’s name in vain.

“It’s okay,” He chuckles, his eyes examining your contorted face, “Can I touch you?” He asks in a hushed voice, his hand now skimming along the waistband of your pants.

“Please,” You breathe out, nodding quickly.

Trembling hands hook beneath the hem, tugging gently, prompting you to lift your hips from the counter. Setting your pants aside, wide eyes consume the state of you; flushed cheeks, stiff peaks poking through your nearly see-through shirt, and damp white cotton panties. “Perfect,” He mumbles to himself, visibly gulping when he looks into your eyes, his fingers teasing the waistband of your underwear, “Can I?”

“Yes,” Your hips involuntarily writhe against his touch, silently begging for him to touch you. Slowly, his calloused fingers dip beneath the thin fabric, letting in a quiet gasp when the tips of his fingers meet your soaking cunt. Mirroring him, a low exhale leaves your lips, your hand finding its hold on his wrist.

“Show me,” He chokes out, his mouth dry, “Please.”

Holding eye contact, you dip his hand further along your slit, his fingers teasing your soaking entrance. Your bottom lip tucks itself between your teeth when you hold back a moan, guiding his hand back up and pressing it against your aching bud. His jaw hangs slack as you circle your clit, earning a breathless moan from you, your knees absentmindedly squeezing around him. Getting a feel for it, he maintains a steady rhythm on the swollen bundle of nerves, making your back arch and hand squeeze around his wrist.

“Keep doing that,” You sigh, encouraging him to rub quicker circles, prompting that familiar feeling of arousal pooling in your gut. The scolding heat spreads through your limbs, slowly climbing up your neck and curling your toes. His worried eyes search your face when yours close, your head tilting back, “I’m so close.”

“I don’t–” His rushed words signal his concern, unsure of what you mean.

“Keep going,” You urge him, your eyes squeezing at the sensation, “Don’t stop.”

“Okay,” He eagerly nods, continuing his repetitive rhythm on your clit. His free hand grips your knee tightly, signaling his own restraint, and making your legs spread wider. The open angle causes your climax to rise, nearly reaching its peak; the coil in your lower belly tightening with each wave of pleasure.

“Faster,” You moan out when pulses of arousal coat your underwear and his fingertips. When he quickens his pace, the coil snaps, and an eruption of heat travels between your legs, making you cry out. Your head falls forward, forehead connecting with his, and your free hand grips the back of his neck as your orgasm washes through you. Shuttering hips grind against the solid counter, jerking when the final surges of your climax dissipate, his fingers halting all movements. Opening your eyes, his are overtaken by darkness, his eyebrows scrunched together and his breath panting.

Pulling away from him and licking your lips, dry from your heavy breathing, the two of you stare at each other with wide eyes and heaving chests. Removing his soaked hand from your panties, he looks unsure of what to do. Still holding his wrist, you bring his hand to your parted lip, pushing his middle and ring finger into your warm mouth, swirling your tongue around the digits. A strained groan is held in his throat as he watches with blown pupils, his grip on your knee bordering on bruising.

Taking his fingers out of your mouth with a soft pop, you lean forward, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss, letting him taste you on your tongue. He hums, his eyes closing as his lips move against yours, already improving from the last time. Releasing his wrist, your hands find the edge of his coat, wanting to take it off. He allows you to open the coat, pushing it past his broad shoulders and down his strong arms while you continue kissing him.

“Do you want to take this to my room?” You suggest, your lips brushing against his eager lips.

“Yes,” His voice is hoarse when he answers, his hands exploring every inch of exposed skin, leaving prickles in their trails. Inching closer to the edge of the counter, you prompt him to step back, allowing you to slide off. Your legs feel numb when you stand, your knees slightly wobbly as you take his hand, escorting him to your room.

When you enter your bedroom, you sit at the bottom of the bed, looking up at him with expectant eyes. “Come sit,” You instruct, patting the spot next to you.

He nods, hesitantly sitting beside you, the low groan of the bed welcoming a second weight it's not very fond of. His body is parallel to yours, but his head is turned, looking at you, waiting for instruction. Leaning into him, you avoid his lips, aiming for his exposed neck, “Is this okay?” You ask, your lips ghosting over the heated flesh.

“Yes,” He repeats his earlier answer, tilting his head slightly to grant you better access. Your soft lips connect with his sensitive skin, his hips jerking when you leave open-mouth kisses along his neck. Needing a better angle, you swing a leg over his lap, straddling him as his hands automatically find their place on your hips— as if they’ve always belonged there.

The bright white of his collar shines in your peripheral as you nibble on the skin below his ear, making his hips grind into yours and a low groan exit him. His rough fingers sink into the flesh of your hips, guiding you on his erection. A shaky breath leaves your lips, descending onto his neck when you feel the pressure against your core.

Placing your palms on his shoulders, you push him back, making him lay against the plush comforter. Still straddling him, you bend down, resuming your kisses on his neck, your lips brushing against his collar frequently. A tinge of guilt pulls at your heart, and you gently bite his neck to distract yourself, earning a surprised moan from him. His hips writhe beneath you, grinding his bulge against your aching cunt.

Pulling back, you examine him; his blushed cheeks, long hair spread across the mattress, his usual attire of black jeans, a black button-up, and a clerical collar. His begging eyes hold your gaze, and you pull on his arms to make him sit back up. Following your silent instruction, he removes his hands from your hips and props himself up, his head tilting back to look at you.

“Are you sure about this?” You ask, your hands resting on either side of his neck.

“I’m sure,” He reiterates, nodding slowly.

A small smile pulls at your lips as you step off of him, taking a seat beside him but scooting up until you lean back against the pillows. “Come here,” You nod your head upward, and he follows, turning around, kicking his dress shoes off onto the ground, and crawling slowly toward you. As he gets closer, you spread your legs, his eyes immediately shooting to your core. He stops between your lips, kneeling between your open thighs.

He nearly chokes when you reach for the bottom hem of your shirt, pulling the thin fabric over your head, and exposing yourself to him while he remains fully dressed. Swallowing thickly, his mouth opens to speak, but he’s rendered speechless. Instead, he leans back on his heels, his hands resting on his knees.

“Take them off,” You say, your eyes shooting to your underwear, and back to him. Steadily nodding, his hands leave his knees and hook into the stretchy cloth, pulling down when you lift your hips for him. Again, a choked noise catches in his throat when he tosses the article elsewhere, eyes locked on your exposed cunt. “Do you want to undress?” You ask, taking into account how different your appearances are.

“I’m not sure,” He admits, his eyebrows furrowing with intense thought.

“That’s okay,” You assure him, “This is fine.”

“Okay,” He lets out a breath of relief, his shoulders slumping with his exhale. Hesitating, his trembling hands reach for the fly and button of his jeans, undoing both of them. Without taking his pants off, he stretches the waistband of his boxers down, pulling out his hardened length and wrapping his fingers around the shaft. Your mouth dries at the sight of him, eyes watching intently as he leans forward, his free hand landing on the pillow beside your head and his long, wavy hair naturally falling to the side, framing his face. “I’ve never done this,” He confesses, but you already knew.

“It’s okay,” Your voice is sweet and reassuring, “We’ll take it slow.”

“Okay…” He breathes out, and his small smile fades into a focused expression when he leans in more, his hips inching closer to your center. Your breath hitches in anticipation when he presses his aching tip against your slit, and a shuttered breath pushes past his parted lips. His gaze stays focused on your cunt as he rubs his leaking tip along your soaking folds.

“Father,” You use the formality, making his head snap up to look at you and your breathing stops at his frown. Initially, you think he’s upset, but his darkened eyes and hidden smirk say otherwise. Reaching between you, you grasp at his hand and guide him to your entrance, “Please.”

Keeping his eyes on you, he pushes his hips forward, his tip entering you at an agonizingly slow rate. A sharp gasp enters your chest as he inches into you, your walls opening up for his generous length. From his appearance and frozen chest, his breathing has halted as he sinks into you fully, making you both release his cock, his eyes wide from the sensation.

Releasing his breath, his free hand lands on the space next to your head, opposite to his other arm, caging you in. His chest heaves rapidly, a strained whine being pulled from his hoarse throat, his eyebrows scrunching. Your hands find his clothed waist, gripping at the perfectly pressed fabric, crumbling it under your hold. Wrapping your legs around him, you tug him closer, needing more, “I need a minute,” He groans, eyes squeezing shut when your walls squeeze around him involuntarily.

“That’s okay,” You comfort, scanning his features, “Take your time.”

A short moment passes before he finally pulls his hips back, his length nearly leaving you before being pushed back in, making your back arch off the bed. His rapid breathing levels into a steady rhythm as he repeats his thrusts, small whines mixing with heavy breaths from each pump into your wet cunt.

“This feels…” He huffs, his hips moving a bit quicker, pulling soft sighs and moans from your open lips, “…so good.”

“You’re doing so well,” You encourage him, making him finally open his eyes, looking down at you with admiration, “You feel so good.”

“I’m not sure how much longer I can go,” He confesses, pulling a breathy laugh from you and himself. His thrusts remain steady but distort into a sloppy pattern, his breathing spiking once again. Your breathing reflects his with heavy pants filling the corners of the small bedroom, bouncing off flat surfaces and funneling into your ears. “It’s happening,” He grunts out, his lack of restraint causing his jaw to tighten.

“You’re okay,” You moan out, your second climax not far behind, “Keep going.”

He nods, continuing to thrust into you at a gentle, but quick speed. His eyes travel down your naked body; your breasts bouncing with each thorough thrust, your stomach clenching from your near-second orgasm, and your legs spread wide for him. Fixing his gaze on his cock pumping in and out of you, a choked cry fills your room, his back straightening and head swinging back as his length twitches inside of you.

“Fuck!” You cry out as well, your climax happening as a result of his own with hot spurts of cum shooting into you. The walls of your cunt flutter vigorously around his cock, milking out his orgasm and causing him to moan uncontrollably.

“Please, God,” His strained whine is aimed at your ceiling, brows furrowed in desperation as his cock pulses, letting out the final waves of his climax. When his head finally hangs down, he looks at you, a look of realization painted on his tense expression, his eyes wide and lips parted. He looks pained; disappointed and horrified. Your second orgasm is a distant memory when guilt overshadows pleasure. What have I done? “I- I should go,” He rushes out, pulling out of you, making you both whimper at the loss of contact.

“Father, wait—” You rush to sit up and cover yourself with your blanket, suddenly aware of your naked state.

“I’m sorry, it’s late,” He gets off the bed, avoiding eye contact while shoving himself back into his boxers and jeans, quickly slipping his shoes back on, “I really have to go.”

“I—” You try to call out, but before you can say another word, he’s down the hall and out of your house, leaving you alone in your bed. Precious warmth turns to ice, a shiver traveling up your spine when you realize what has happened, and how it can never be undone.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Tags:

#greta van fleet #jake kiszka #jake kiszka fanfic #jacob thomas kiszka #jake kiskza x reader #jake gvf #jake kiska fic #jake kiskza smut #gvf fic #gvf smut #priest jake kiszka #jake kiszka one shot #jake x reader #gvf fanfiction #gvf #greta van fluff #greta van smut #greta van fic

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just-null · 21 hours ago

Note

*gives null his favorite things in hopes of thinking about this*

What if, from all the stalking the Hantengu clones had done to their darling, their darling develops a lot of paranoia and doesn't let anyone near anymore?

Or maybe their darling has a lot of trauma from man going awful, unspeakable things to them?

((I don't know if I should refer to their darling as female or male and that's my first time ever asking a favorite creator of mine, please don't judge me))

((the Darling can be whatever you want them to be, but I'll always be as neutral as possible, so don't worry! 🐸💖))

Considering that these men are also horrible, it's not surprising at all to find yourself going insane! I wasn't sure whether not letting anyone close included the boys or not, so I did both!

[Cw! Yandere behavior, unhealthy dynamics, obsession, manipulation]

Your sudden shift was wonderful at first! They finally had you all to themselves, and it gave them so much more time to evenly spread your attention between themselves without getting into usual fights.

When finding out about your paranoia, they feed into it, affirming your fears about others just to have you rely on them further. Never stray too far, not like you can, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

Do you want to go out but you're too scared? Wait, right there, they need to decide who goes first to clear the way while the others stay close by!! that way no one will bother you!

Their favorite hobby is stealing—er—borrowing! so you don't even need to worry about something as silly as money or finance to get what you want again!! All you need to do is ask, and it's yours.

Their bias is prominent. Where hantengu would yelp and shout, they'd laugh and scold, but if you were to do the same, they'd comfort and coo. It's cute.. do you want them to get rid of something for you? Hold you? Comfort you?

Nothing really annoys them (aside from each other) now that you fully rely on them. Be as clingy and jumpy as you want, and they'll coddle you. Being spoiled rotten is the goal as long as you continue to cower at the sight of another soul or the thought of being alone.

They almost seem like decent lovers at some point, solely focusing on you and your needs. Jealousy is at an all time low now that they don't have to worry about anyone else. They even begin to hide their violent tendencies, too happy that you're with them to care.

It gets to the point where THEY had to be the ones to leave for important tasks lest they be.. "scolded" by a man you don't need to stress over.

It's devastating when they separate from you.. When they fight, their attacks are ruthless. Brutal. Bloody.. Even Urogi and Karaku are more productive because the image of their beloved all alone and trembling has their unbeating hearts aching.

Even with all this, they're still scummy rats who work together to make sure things go their way.

Sekido doesn't rile up your paranoia unless you insist on going somewhere alone. "Be careful, don't wander off. Yell and I'll go get you, who knows what's out there." He's content with your fears already. In fact, he's.. sweeter. He doesn't get as mad as he used to, only slightly irritated.

Seeking him out to protect you from something small gets the most blissed out expression from him momentarily. His hold is still as firm as ever, but he doesn't insult you as harshly. Quiet grumbles like "Such a baby.. what is it this time?" are frequent, yet he does whatever you want.

Karaku is NOT helping at all. Ever since he noticed you got jumpier, he thought it'd be fun to make you squirm, though he probably teases too much and makes you cry.. Pointing and gasping at nothing, making noises from other rooms, asking, "Did you hear that?" until you're visibly shaking from every little creak.

But it's okay. He opens his arms every time and pets your head, cooing at you, "D'aww, don't start the waterworks, c'mere. I'll knock it off, I was just playing..! Even if I wasn't, you really think I'd let something get you? Never!"

Urogi probably will give you terrifying heart attacks. Because you're so dependent on them now, he can't contain his love for you the second he sees you. One second, you're conversing with one of the boys, then the next a blur of feathers and glowing yellow eyes barrels towards you, toppling you to the floor.

He can hear your heart beating through your chest as he presses his ear against it. He loves the sound!! "Did I scare you again? Hahaha!! You know it's only me who does this to you!! Anybody else would be dead before they even made contact. I love how warm you are, the thump of your heart, the feel of your skin, everything about you makes me too happy!!"

Aizetsu is your worst enemy.. He needs a damn bell! Each step is too quiet, and he knows this. it's purposeful. You need to remember why you're paranoid in the first place, so he lurks around, letting you find him if he's feeling kind or giving you that feeling of being watched if he's not. He doesn't do it for long, preferring to be the one you hold instead of watching the others make an opportunity out of his methods.

When he lets you find him, he pouts, tilting his head as if you're the one who intruded on him. "Dont mind me, I'm making sure everywhere is safe. Did you need something..? Or did you feel how much i missed you? Oh, you're so nice to me.."

———

But then.. you began growing distant towards them.

They're not sure what happened. Honestly, they might take it as rejection at first and double down until they notice you're TERRIFIED. They pause and regroup, planning their next course of action.

They're not as aggressive, just confused and hurt. Attempts to be considerate come off very stiff, but they're trying. They can tell you're not faking it. The terror in your eyes is undeniable.

They do a 180 and fight often when alone, blaming others, then each other for being too much on you. Their muffled yelling and thumping from fighting are loud enough that you hear, though they try making it up to you later.

Even if they're extremely upset about it, they put their feelings aside for you. There's no use talking to someone who won't listen.

Their attitudes get a lot more cautious but desperate. They've dealt with Hantengu's jumpiness and constant crying before, but being the cause in your case makes this more complicated..

They attempt to give you your space, and insist you stay home. Don't like the home you have? They'll find you a new one, a better one, and promise not to get too close. Give them some time. After that, they get rid of any external factors that could be harmful to you.

Unsurprisingly, they can't help themselves and will try to approach and speak to you, even if behind a wall or at a distance. Probably set up a wall divider just so you don't feel as scared to speak to them.

They're desperate and want what they once had with you.. please don't shut them out. this wasn't how it was supposed to go.

Emotional reassurance isn't their strong suit (ironically). They never comfort anybody, not even Hantengu. Combat is their expertise! In their mind, fixing the problem outside will fix the problem inside ..At least, fingers crossed that they do.

It's because of those villains out there that you're so scared in the first place. What kind of disgusting shameless bastards assume they get the privilege to think of you, much less be near you?! The second they know what these "men's" faces look like, their insides will decorate the ground and-!

Ahem—

Let's just say they took a page from Akaza's book and treat men a little meaner than women. As in, making sure at least one bone of theirs is broken if they so much as breathe in your direction.

During the attempt at rehabilitation, they fall into roles according to how they handle you.

Sekido is your bodyguard that makes sure the others behave and you're taking care of yourself. His once long fuse shortened since he began blaming the others for your paranoia. He can't help but be protective. As much as he hates it, he won't focus on anything if he knows you're unwell. He doesn't say much aside from grunts and scoffs in hopes of not scaring you further.

Karaku tries to lighten the mood and fills the silence with stories about what he's seen throughout his life, excluding the violent and aggressive details. Maybe even random stories he's heard, just to try and get your mind off of whatever is troubling you. He doesn't speak directly to you but around you so that you'll probably overhear.

Urogi is the material comfort, bringing you gifts that the others check before they get left outside your room. The gifts aren't as ripped or scratched as they would usually be, but that's because he's trying extra hard to give you something that'll hopefully make you feel better! With his talons and excitement, Urogi doesn't see you as much anymore unless it's through the window when you're asleep.

Aizetsu is the one who frequently speaks to you. He loves gathering information about you and hearing you speak in general. It's a pity you speak less, and when you do, there's a slight tremble.. it's cute, but you sound so miserable.. His airy, soft voice and gentle attitude grow sweeter when announcing himself, "How are you feeling? it kills me to see you like this.. please, tell me what to do to make everything better.”

The eyes you feel get worse since they're overprotective of you. At least they're not as secretive about it! They're insistent and happy that you avoid other people all together, though it'd be much better if they were an exception!

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mattsfavouritewhore · 2 days ago

Text

Just Go Part 3 - Chris sturniolo

a/n: oh hey pooks!! enjoy this little plot twist of a story

just go part 2 part 4

The morning after their confessions, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was… off. You woke to an empty bed, the cool sheets where Chris had been, and the space beside you felt wider than it ever had before.

You tried not to panic, but the absence of his warmth was a jolt to your system. Last night had been perfect, filled with kisses that seemed to echo long after they’d stopped, confessions that had revealed more than just the depth of your attraction—but also the tenderness neither of you had dared admit. And now, Chris was gone. Not even a note. No trace.

You sat up, your pulse quickening. Did I do something wrong?

But then you saw it: a text from Chris.

Chris: Good morning, I’m sorry, I needed to clear my head. I’ll be back in a little while. Let’s talk then, okay?

Your fingers tightened around the phone. You weren’t sure if it was the coolness of the message, the sudden distance, or the lingering doubt that gnawed at your insides, but you felt an unsettling sensation creep up your spine.

Clear his head?

A million questions raced through your mind, none of them satisfying. And so, you did what you often did when your thoughts spiraled—you poured yourself a cup of coffee, letting the warmth fill your hands as you tried to regain your composure.

You hadn’t expected the vulnerability of last night to be so easily eclipsed by confusion. You had been so… raw. So real. What was he afraid of?

Just as you were starting to tell yourself to relax, to breathe, there was a knock on the door. Your heart leapt in your chest.

You rushed to answer it.

Standing in the doorway, your eyes briefly flickering with recognition before you masked it, was… not Chris.

It was Harper. Your best friend.

Harper stood there, looking a little out of breath, her dark hair slightly askew, her eyes wide with something between curiosity and concern.

“Hey, can I come in?” Harper’s tone was too casual, but her gaze kept darting behind you, as if searching for someone.

“Uh… sure,” you said, stepping aside. Your mind was still racing. “What’s going on? Is something wrong?”

Harper stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. She held something in her hand, a small, folded piece of paper. Your stomach tightened, and a sudden unease crept in.

Harper cleared her throat, glancing down at the paper before holding it out. “I, uh… I think you need to read this.”

You frowned, your heart pounding as you took the paper from Harper’s hand. You unfolded it slowly, your eyes scanning the words that felt like a punch to your gut:

y/n,

I never meant to hurt you, but you deserve the truth. What happened last night—what you think happened with me—wasn't real.

The attraction I felt wasn’t to you. It was to someone else. Someone you know. I didn’t want to lie to you, but I was trying to figure out how to navigate the mess of feelings I have for both of you. I can't keep pretending. I hope you understand why I left so suddenly.

I’ll always care for you. But not in the way you think. Please don’t hate me.

—Chris.

The world tilted.

Your knees buckled, and you sank into the nearest chair, holding the letter as if it might slip from your fingers at any moment. Your chest was tight, the breath caught in your throat. Not in the way you think.

What was this? You looked up at Harper, but your best friend’s face was unreadable.

“Harper, what is this?” you whispered, your voice shaking. “Is this some kind of joke? Because this… this doesn’t make sense. Chris and I… we were…” You trailed off, feeling your heartbeat hammer against your ribs.

Harper didn’t answer right away, her eyes flickering as if she was weighing something heavy on her mind. After a long moment, she took a deep breath.

“Look, I don’t want to hurt you, but I think you need to hear this. Chris… Chris was never supposed to be with you.” Harper’s voice was soft, almost hesitant, but firm in the way she spoke the truth. “He came to me. Confessed everything. The attraction, the feelings he thought he had for you… but they were never really there.”

You blinked, trying to piece it together. “What are you talking about? Are you saying—”

Harper cut you off, her eyes filled with regret. “Look, I’m the one he’s in love with. Not you. It was always me.”

Your world collapsed. The ground beneath your feet felt like it was crumbling, but it wasn’t just your heartbreak you were feeling—it was the betrayal. Chris. And Harper. Your best friend and the man you had fallen for—how had they kept this from you?

Harper stepped forward, her eyes soft but laced with a sadness you had never seen before. "I’m sorry, I never meant for this to happen. But after last night… I couldn’t let him keep lying to you."

You stood up, your voice shaking with a mix of disbelief and hurt. “So you and Chris? All of this was just some twisted game to you both? Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

Harper flinched but didn’t back down. “No, it wasn’t like that. I care about you. But I couldn’t watch him struggle like this, pretending he wanted something he didn’t.” She hesitated. “He tried to walk away from me. He even tried to convince himself it was you. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t lie anymore.”

Your mind was racing, every word, every memory of Chris replaying in your head—every kiss, every touch, all of it a lie.

But then, just as you were about to scream, to demand answers from both of them, there was a sudden knock at the door. A familiar knock.

Your heart stopped. You didn’t have to look to know who it was.

Chris.

Harper stiffened, her eyes darting toward the door, and for a moment, you were frozen, caught between rage and heartbreak.

This was a betrayal that ran deeper than you could’ve ever imagined. But Chris was standing there now, and somehow, this wasn’t over.

Not yet.

“Hey,” Chris’s voice called from the other side of the door. “I need to explain everything. Please, just let me—”

Before he could finish, you stormed toward the door, wrenching it open with every ounce of fury and heartbreak you could summon. You faced him, your chest rising and falling with the weight of everything you had just learned.

“No,” you said, your voice shaking but resolute. “No more lies. No more pretending.”

Chris’s face fell. But just as you were about to speak again, he took a step closer. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. You have to understand—”

But you stepped back. “I don’t need you to explain anything to me anymore. I need you to leave. And I need to find out who I really am without either of you.”

Chris opened his mouth to say something, but you turned away, slamming the door shut behind you, kicking both of them out.

You stood there for a long moment, breathing deeply, your hands trembling, and your heart shattering.

The love you thought was yours—was never yours to begin with.

And now, you had to figure out what came next.

a/n: oof the tensions hot.. i wonder what happens next, thats IF something happens next.

tag: @riggysworld

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #matt x reader #sturniolo fandom #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut

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cognitiveoverload · 1 day ago

Text

Promises (future Aaron Hotchner x reader)

summary: A new prosecutor takes over the case where you're a witness, and he assures you things will be just fine.

tags: the case is a murder case with a hint of something else involving the reader, fem!reader, prosecutor!Hotch

note: This is a pilot, prologue, call it whatever you want. If there will be future chapters, it will take place in 1996 or 1997, when she's a homicide detective.

(1991)

Two years of preparation is now going down the drain, because the original prosecutor had a heart attack, so the case is being taken over by some guy called Aaron Hotchner. Great. Excellent. He’s young, mid-twenties, probably doesn’t even have enough experience to handle such a case, but it’s not like you have a choice if you want to get this over with finally. Hopefully, he won’t die or be taken off the case too.

Your parents were murdered when you were barely sixteen, and in the two years leading up to this day, you did your best to move on, building a life of your own without them. By now you were sure the trial would be the last time you have to recall the details of what happened, what those who killed your parents did to you, but now it seems like you have to talk about it a lot more to help the new prosecutor.

“I know it’s hard. I read everything Morris had on your case, but we need to talk regularly so I can hear what happened from you, and I need to get you ready for the trial,” he says.

Those warm brown eyes are watching you intently, as if he was analyzing your body language to make sure he always chose the right words when talking to you. He’s really trying to help you, so you can’t be mad at him for doing his job. With a sigh, you lean back and let your arm that’s been folded over your chest fall into your lap.

“He already prepared me, I’m gonna be fine,” you tell him, hoping he would get the hint that you don’t want that.

“I’m aware of that, but I need to get to know you better. I need to know what I can expect from you, so please, just trust me on this one. I know what happened to you, I know it must be hard to talk about those things again, but it’s necessary,” he explains kindly as he picks up a pen and focuses on that for a moment.

You take a deep breath as you lean back in the chair. “I won’t have to see Blake until the trial, right?” Seeing that son of a bitch is the last thing you want. Hotchner notices that you’re against it, so he shakes his head, assuring you that you’ll be kept away from him. “Alright, let’s do this. But I’m going to law school, we may have trouble scheduling meetings,” you point out.

He nods. “It’s okay. We can meet in the evening if we have no other choice.”

“You know, I was already making bets with my friends about when you’ll die or hand over this case to someone else. Call me a pessimist.”

There’s a faint smile on his lips when he hears this. “I won’t let that happen. Trust me, we’ll put an end to this. That's a promise I’m gonna keep,” he tells you.

And you believe him. For the first time in two years you feel like everything would be alright in the end.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader

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lady-lostmind · 17 hours ago

Text

Oh, fuck.

Written for @steddiebingo Countdown to Midnight Prompt: Heat/Rut and Main Card Prompt: Oh. Oh.

Rating: E | WC: 1179 | CW: A/B/O, Steve and Eddie are completely lucid when they consent in this regardless of Steve going into heat.

Thank you @oh-stars for betaing!!

“Oh, no. No–no. Not now–” Steve groans in the back of Eddie’s van, hunched over and clutching at his stomach.

Eddie’s eyes go wide as he flicks between Steve’s pained face and the road he’s whipping down. “What? What’s wrong? That doesn’t sound good! What–” Eddie’s mouth drops open with a whimper as he’s slapped in the face with the most delicious, sweet scent he’s ever smelled.

Steve looks up and locks eyes with him, clearly mortified and scared. “I’m sorry, Eds. I’m so, so sorry.”

Eddie looks back at him, confused. He shakes his head. “Steve, what–” And then it hits him. Really hits him. “Oh. Oh fuck.” He slams on the breaks, pulling them off on the side of the road and turning to face Steve fully. “Please tell me this is not what I think it is.” But– it is. He knows it is. The tent forming in his pants absolutely knows it is.

Steve lets out another groan of pain. “It’s early.”

Eddie scrambles to the back of the van and peers out the back window. No sign of anything catastrophic catching up with them yet. But they’re supposed to be the distraction. It was working. Vecna was sending all he has after them and now–

Eddie turns back to Steve reaching out, hands hovering just above his shoulders. “What do we do?”

Steve looks up at him with pleading eyes. “Make it stop. Please.”

Eddie sucks in a deep breath his brain running a loop of ‘fuck–fuck–fuck–fuck.’ He shakes his head. “Steve. I can’t–”

Steve whines, collapsing forward in pain. “I need you, Eds. Please.”

Eddie looks out the window again and sees dark red filling the sky behind them. “Shit. We have to get out of here, Steve. I don’t know what to do. What do we do?”

Steve looks up with him with pain filled, desperate eyes. “Knot me.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide, his jaw dropping open with a gasp and his treacherous dick fucking throbs. Everything he’s wanted for the last year is being offered up on a platter but– “Like this?” He gestures around frantically at the van. The situation. Because, seriously, how the fuck is this supposed to work.

Steve scoots forward and grabs Eddie’s hand tightly, glancing between him and the impending doom steadily coming toward them. “We need to get out of here. And the next step requires us being quiet–” He lets out another pained groan and then huffs out a laugh. “I don’t think I’m very capable of that right now.”

Eddie shakes his head. “No, we can figure something else out! I’m not going to make you–”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Eds, come on.”

Eddie scoffs. “Come on, what? I’m not going to fuck you just because it’ll shut you up. That’s not how I–” He sighs, shaking his head, trying not to show how much it’s killing him to say no.

Steve tugs on Eddie’s hand, getting him to focus on him. “It’s not how I was hoping it would happen either, but–”

“Wait–wait–wait. You want me to–?” Eddie squeezes Steve’s hand. “Like, in a normal circumstance when your life doesn’t potentially depend on it, you’d still…want to?”

Steve stares at him like he’s an idiot. “I mean, yeah. I thought we–” Steve drops Eddie’s hand and pulls away. “I’m sorry if I read this wrong. But either way, I mean–” He gestures around, clearly annoyed. “We’re kind of running out of options here.”

Eddie drops down next to Steve and cups his face, staring into his eyes. “Of course I want you, sweetheart. I just didn’t think you–” Eddie sighs. “It doesn’t matter. You’re right.” He glances over his shoulder. “But I’m still not sure how–”

Steve cries out, doubling over again. “Fuck! Please, Eds.”

Eddie nods, stroking his thumb over Steve’s jaw. “Okay. Okay.” He tilts Steve’s head up, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “When this is over, I’m going to do this right.But for now–” Eddie reaches down to pop the button on his jeans open.

Steve sighs with relief as he leans back and does the same, both of them quickly shedding their clothes. As soon as Steve’s pants are off, a wave of his scent hits Eddie and a growl works its way out of his chest. “Fuck, Stevie.” He lunges forward, his fingers dipping into Steve immediately, coming away covered in his slick.

Steve whines and clutches at Eddie’s shoulders, climbing into his lap and sinking down on his– “OH FUCK. Oh shit. You feel so good.”

Steve sighs as he settles on Eddie with a soft moan and presses his nose into Eddie’s neck, breathing deeply. Eddie’s hips jut up on their own accord, making them both shudder, pleasure rolling over them in waves.

Eddie locks eyes with Steve and cups his face. “We have to make this quick. You ready?”

Steve nods, grabbing onto Eddie’s shoulders tightly. Eddie takes a deep breath and flips them over, slamming down into Steve as hard as he can with a low groan before pulling back and setting a quick pace, hurtling them toward the finish line as quickly as possible. He watches as Steve’s eyes go glassy, his body getting more and more relaxed as he lets Eddie take over and take the pain away. Eddie can feel his knot start to pop. Feels it start catching on every thrust until– “FUCK.” He slams in one last time, locking them together as they both fall over, Steve clenching down around him as he whines into Eddie’s neck. Eddie wraps his arms around Steve and leans them back so Steve ends up in his lap again. He glances out the window, his heart beating even faster when he sees the red looming ever closer. “Shit. Okay.”

Eddie taps the side of Steve’s leg. “Wrap your legs around me, baby.” Steve shifts his legs weakly, but manages to lock his ankles behind Eddie’s back. “Good job. You’re doing so good.” He runs his fingers through Steve’s hair, smiling a little when he nuzzles in closer to his neck. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Trying to focus. Trying to focus on the whole outrun certain doom thing instead of being inside Steve still. Which is honestly no easy feat since he’s pretty sure this is exactly how he wants to die anyway and– right. Focus.

Eddie hikes Steve further up on his hips, getting an arm under him and kind of shuffling them to the front of the van. He pulls them up into the seat, rubbing his hand over Steve’s back when he whimpers from the movement. “Sorry, sorry. I have to get us moving.”

Steve settles in his lap again with a content sigh, Eddie shakes his head as he tries to figure out how he’s going to drive with Steve on top of him. “Jesus H. Christ. This is insane.” He throws the van in drive and slams his foot on the gas, groaning when it shifts Steve on his lap.

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #lady lostmind #steddiebingo #steddiebingo2025 #steddiebingocountdowntomidnight #a/b/o #rated e

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twinklemylittlestar · 3 days ago

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Spoiler allert: do not read this post if you didn't watch Sonic 3: the movie

So, yesterday I went to the cinema and watched Sonic 3. I have some thoughts..

We have the first and the second post-credit scene (this is how my father called theme). In the first one we found out that the new enemy is Metal Sonic (?).

I'll tell you right away that I haven't played any Sonic games, so for more information I had to go to the Wiki of this fandom. So, I read that Metal Sonic was created by Dr. Robotnik, but we don't know if he's alive or not, so I don't think he's one of his creations. But then I read that Metal Sonic wants to be superior to Sonic, even at the cost of destroying him. And that's probably the reason he attacked Sonic.

Then I realised something: usually we find robots in sci-fiction films, usually setted in the future. Okay, maybe someone else created them, but think about it: who comes from the future? Exactly: Silver the Hedgehog.

Maybe in the next movie he will be added to the new characters? We don't know, but I hope so.

A character that we know will be added in the next movie is Amy Rose.

Now I have a question: what power does she have? I mean, she probably has the speed like everyone else, but what else? Because, except for Sonic, the other characters has a second power: Knuckles has strength, Shadow can teleport, Tails can fly and he's very smart, Silver has telekinesis...and Amy? Please someone tell me.

In the second post credit scene we discover that Shadow is alive. But: will we see him in the next movie? Let's hope it...

#sonic the hedgehog #amy rose #miles tails prower #knuckles the echidna #sonic the movie #sonic movie 3 #silver the hedgehog #metal sonic #shadow the hedgehog

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verdantglow · 9 months ago

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Fuck it, posts my SmallEtho playlist.

Part-Time Soulmate, Full-Time Problem: A SmallEtho/Boat Boys Playlist

(Best listened to on shuffle.)

This is a kinda long playlist (28 tracks), so if you only have time for a few songs, check out: ‘Pyrokenesis’; ‘I Am Fred Astaire’; & ‘Built To Burn.’

Full track list & selected lyrics under cut.

1. Son of a Gun - Motion City Soundtrack

Have you had enough? Are you tough? Are you broken?/Hit me where it hurts, don’t just curtsey & sulk/I know I deserve every elegant word that you’re hurling at me

2. Pyrokenesis - 7chariot

When you say the things you say, they start a little spark/Ignite this small but also highly flammable heart

You’re setting me on fire, I don’t wanna fight it/You don’t need a lighter, you’re a flame/Drowning myself in water only makes it harder/Hard for me to keep myself away

3. Just One Yesterday - Fall Out Boy

I want to teach you a lesson in the worst kind of way/Still I’d trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday

4. Violently Alive - I Hate Kate

I hate that you’re there/And I’m here/In the same room/Miles from me to you/We’re so distant/But close enough to touch

5. Tiger Teeth - Walk The Moon

Give in, give in, I want you back/One heart, one too many to stomach/Love bites so deep and we got tiger teeth

6. It’s Not A Fashion Statement, It’s A Deathwish - My Chemical Romance

Hip-hip-hooray for me, you talk to me/But would you kill me in my sleep?/Lay still like the dead/From the razor to the rosary, we could lose ourselves/And paint these walls in pitchfork red

7. True Romance - Motion City Soundtrack

I’m a screwup of epic proportions/A walking hand grenade/Hyper-manic, a dime store dramatic/A conduit for pain

She said “Don’t speak, don’t think,/Just take it off, take it off”/I said “Don’t speak, don’t think,/Just mess me up, mess me up”

8. Violence - blink-182

Like violence, you have me, forever and after/Like violence, you kill me, forever and after

9. I Am Fred Astaire - Taking Back Sunday

I’m under the assumption that I’m gonna be the one that’s leaving you/Tonight, oh, tonight/Well I flipped every switch that I could find on my way out/Just to upset you more/Just to keep you busy/Just to make you angry/Just because you were right

I’m stuttering through it, but I hear it/Well I-I I hear it’s good t-t-to stick to what you know

10. The Wolf - The Crane Wives

I am not a tempest/I light torches in my sleep/I have gasoline in my veins/I am always burning, burning burning

11. Crave - Waterparks

I’m cravin’ a getaway from the/Smooth talk that’s keeping me grounded/To the carpet in my room/My quiet blue tomb of you

I wish I could forget you

12. Hold Me Like A Grudge - Fall Out Boy

Hold me, hold me like a grudge/The world is always spinning and I can’t keep up/Faster and faster, can’t do it on my own/Part-time soulmate, full-time problem yeah/Hold me like a grudge

13. Formidable - Twenty One Pilots

You are formidable to me/‘Cause you seem to know it, where you wanna go/Yeah yeah yeah I’ll follow you/But you should know/I might be cynical towards you/But I just can’t believe that I’m for you/Yeah yeah yeah I can die with you/Just let me know

14. Play With Fire - Sam Tinnesz feat Yacht Money

I ride the edge/My speed goes in the red/Hot blood, these veins/My pleasure is their pain/I love to watch the castles burn/These golden ashes turn to dirt/I’ve always liked to play with fire

15. Bulletproof Heart - My Chemical Romance

I’ve got a bulletproof heart/You’ve got a hollow point smile/Me and your runaway scars/Got photographed dream on the getaway mile/Let’s blow a hole in this town/And do our talking with a laser beam/Gunnin’ out of this place in a bullet’s embrace/Then we’ll do it again

16. The Truth Is, You Should Lie With Me - Say Anything

You’re a pretty face, you should like me/I want to get used by you/‘Cause I’m full of hate, just excite me/I want to get bruised by you

17. Red - Pale Waves

Oh no baby, are we gonna make it this time?/I always take hearts that shouldn’t be mine, be mine/Slow down baby, are we gonna make it alive?/You’ve got a face that I always recognize/Always recognize

18. Kill V. Maim - Grimes

I did something bad, maybe I was wrong/Sometimes people says that I’m a big time bomb/But I’m only a man/And I do what I can

19. FUNERAL GREY - Waterparks

I said that you can call me, beep me/If you want my skin/She rolled her eyes and then she said/“I know your dying wish is to be baptized in my spit”

20. Shiver - Motion City Soundtrack

Shiver away, I thought the action was real/Somewhere I know that’s just the way you are/it’s hard to believe that you’re a part of me/And I can’t believe when you carry on and on

21. Kiss With A Fist - Florence + The Machine

My black eye casts no shadow/Your red eye sees nothing/Your slaps don’t stick, your kicks don’t hit/So we remain the same/Love sticks, sweat drips/Break the lock if it don’t fit/A kick to the teeth is good for some/A kiss with a fist is better than none

22. Mr. Brightside- The Killers

It started out with a kiss/How did it end up like this/It was only a kiss/It was only a kiss

23. Tear You Apart - She Wants Revenge

Escape was just a nod and a casual wave/Obsess about it heavy for the next two days/It’s only just a crush, it’ll go away/It’s just like all the others, it’ll go away/Or maybe this is danger and he just don’t know/You pray it all away, but it continues to grow

24. Can You Feel My Heart (Remix) - Bring Me The Horizon, Jeris Johnson

I’m scared to get close/And I hate being alone/I long for that feeling to not feel at all

Holding on, bring me close, feel my heart/Can you feel my heart?

25. Built To Burn - Shaffer James

We’ll build a world/And burn it down/Everything is pretty/When we burn it to the ground

26. Hatef—k - The Bravery

There will be no tenderness, no tenderness/I will show no mercy for you/You had no mercy for me/The only thing that I ask/Love me mercilessly

27. Stupid For You - Waterparks

You’re playing ring around my head/I’ll wear you like a halo/You’re a symphony/I’m just a sour note/I’ll take what I can get/The best is hard to grip when everybody wants you/And everybody wants you

28. My Obsession - Pale Waves

I’m stood still, I can barely breathe/You’re such a mess but you’re always beautiful to me/Run your fingers across my mouth/I’m not prepared to stay here without you

#so I know I said I was gonna do a series of art based on songs from that list #& I probably still will do a couple more!#but right now I am tired of waiting for myself to make a new cover image #or do any of the other paintings #so here it is with cover art being the only song based piece I’ve finished so far #also please tell me your thoughts on these songs if you have any!#I really really really want to discuss these songs with other SmallEtho fans…#okay now maybe my brain will let me focus on something else.#we can only hope.#joel smallishbeans #etho #smallishbeans #ethoslab #smalletho #boat boys #hermitshipping #trafficshipping #part time soulmate full time problem #Spotify

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shiitb4lls · 1 year ago

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@poein / starter call.

"excuse me ..." i begin, calling after the other. the second the words are out of my mouth i regret it. sure, i'm pretty sure i recognize the other. famous author austin weekes. celebrity or not, the other was just a person, a person that most likely would hate to be bothered right now. but sometimes the excitement i feel gets the best of me, as much as i try to reel it in. "... now you probably get this all the time, but ... are you that best selling author ??" the more i speak the more i regret it, and for a few moments i debate apologizing and just turning the other way. however i stay where i stand, trying my best to send a comforting smile in the others direction.

#poein #interactions.#verse: pre canon.#i hope this is okay!!!#please let me know if you want something else

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lonehearts-a · 2 years ago

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from: random starter call / @neveraftcr !! harper to ??

"they're friendly if you wanna say hi !!" maybe he looks a little demented sitting straight on the ground with a hoard of stray cats surrounding him. maybe. but harper isn't that bothered by how he looks right now, grinning up at the other easily. "or...did you need something ??"

#neveraftcr #hiii i hope this is okay! if you have anyone else on my list you're interested in or want something different please let me know!#also happy to specify a muse of yours if that would be easier but i'm genuinely happy with whoever you're feeling the most!#harper : threads.

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iam-anordinary-human-orami · 22 days ago

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I really want a scene like this in tsc2 where Neil seems to call Jean more often to check up on him and the floozies are perplexed "Why is Josten calling you?" "You guys close or sth?" "You still haven't told us what happened when he whisked you away" "we are worried sick Jean, how can you keep us in the dark?" And then Cat will say sth like "are you not sharing what you're talking to Josten about cause you're embarrassed?" Jeremy being a worried mother hen "is he bothering you?" And Jean keeps shutting everything down telling them not to worry, and then Laila as a joke says "is he flirting with you?"

And Jean responds with "I hope not. I don't think his boyfriend would take it well"

Everyone immediately stops what they are doing. "Im sorry, his WHAT?"

All hell breaks lose. Cat is shaking Laila "Josten is FRUITY?!", Jeremy is like "He has a boyfriend?" Laila being like "in the year that he joined the foxes and almost died in the hands of his serial killer dad, he got a boyfriend??? How???" And then Cat and Laila start asking questions, Jeremy trying to calm them down but also being curious, Jean is like "Well he's not told me explicitly, but it's obvious."

Jeremy having an epiphany "oh my god. Is it Kevin?" Cat in the background "oh please let it be Kevin" Jean says no, "Kevin is too much of a coward", the floozies are looking at each other like "oh we are definitely unpacking THAT at some point". And then they're like okay, well maybe the boyfriend is not on the team. But Jean confirms, it's a fox, i can tell u who it is-' "NO! We need to figure this one out!" "Let our gaydar do the work Jean we got things to prove!" Jean tiredly: "to who?"

So they start guessing, oh Hemmick is undeniably fruity, Jean is like "I don't even know who that is. Oh, backliner? No, not him". "Maybe it's Boyd?!" Cat being like "Escandalo! Cause he's with the captain right? Wilds?" Laila commenting "He'd be out of his mind to pass on that, and this is the educated opinion of a lesbian", Jean is like "how come u guys know all their names?" Jeremy says "they are a small team and it's hard not to keep tabs on them when they are in the news cycle every week or so"

"Guys we're losing track, keep your heads locked in! Who could be Josten's boyfriend, that tonight's pressing question!" "But there's no one else... wait, is he with the other backliner? Short blonde?" "I'm gonna be honest, I don't get queer vibes from him" "Lol can u imagine it's actually the goalkeeper twin" "what the one that went to juvie and looks like hes one step away from biting our heads off on the court? Nahh". Jean looks at an invisible camera like he's in the office.

And then something happens and they forget about it, until like the winter banquet or some shit and Cat is intently looking at Neil trying to decipher who his boyfriend could be, maybe he is in a throuple with Wilds and Boyd? Jean is like "Why are you looking at the foxes' table so intently?" "It's investigative work, don't worry about it" and then Neil comes over and takes Jean away at the open bar to talk about sth, the floozies are pretending to not be looking at them. Neil notices and he's like "I see they taken claim already." Jean responds with "It's not what u think" and they talk, Andrew probably gets bored at some point and goes to Neil, puts a single hand on his lower back and Jean being able to hear commotion in the Trojans table turns to see them acting like "normal", except their poses look rehearsed, there's drinks that have been spilled on the table and Cat is drinking from an empty glass looking at the sky.

#aftg #all for the game #just a silly one #neil josten #andrew minyard #andreil #the sunshine court #jean moreau #tsc #laila dermott #catalina alvarez #jeremy knox #the trojans #the foxes #the golden raven #tsc2 #tgr

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pleasantlycrazyworld · 2 months ago

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Sex pollen

A/N: Reader is female, also a mutant with logan like powers. Logan calls the reader princess, darling, and his girl. Unprotected sex (Please don't be stupid and do this). I had a few requests for this, and i figured why not post it on Halloween! Happy Halloween to everyone who celebrates, I hope you enjoy the smut. I worked hard on it, but I'm not the best smut writer, lol. Request are open for Logan and Bucky! And I'm very close to 1,000 followers, so I might try and do some sort of special for it <3

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

Logan should've listened to you when you said something was going to go wrong during the mission. "I don't know Lo, I just have this feeling that I can't seem to shake" you whined and grabbed his arm trying to get him to reconsider and have Charles send someone else for the mission, but he just disregarded you completely. He was just too stubborn, too proud for his own good, and it was really biting him in the ass now.

The mission was supposed to be normal, just a quick in and out. Get into the abandoned laboratory, do a quick scan to make sure it is abandoned, and then steal the plans for mutant mass destruction. Simple, something he's done a million times before but as he sits in the jet panting, sweating, nearly moaning in discomfort, he realizes how badly he fucked up. Fuck when is she ever wrong? Why didn't you just listen to her?! He groaned internally as he looked at the time, only a few more minutes than he'd be home in your bed, with you in his arms... with his cock deep in your pussy. He let a loud moan fall from his lips as he started to think of your body, fuck did he need you.

You were pacing waiting for Logan to come back from the mission, "Where is he? He should've been home hours ago!" You were beyond worried and frustrated over the whole situation, technically you knew that Logan would always come back home to you but that doesn't make the wait easier, it doesn't make seeing him bloody and aching easier either.

The front door finally opened and slammed shut. Logan's heavy footsteps could easily be heard echoing through the hall, "Logan!" You rushed to him to start checking for any injuries. Before you could ask him if he was okay, Logan pulled you into a deep, feverish kiss.

Logan groaned as he felt you gasp against his lips; his hands started to wander up your shirt as he walked you to your shared bedroom, trying his hardest not to break the kiss. You are the first to pull away,completely breathless and a bit confused."Logan...fuck baby what's going on?" You asked as his lips trailed down your neck, leaving rough bites in their place. "Need you, need your skin on mine, need your pussy choking my cock" he cut himself off with a broken moan as he starts to grind his throbbing cock into your thigh, making you feel how hard he was. "Princess, please." He begged completely helpless.

You were worried, Logan had never acted this way before, never whined or begged, but you'd be a liar if you said it didn't make you wet hearing his deep voice beg for you.

Logan was pawing at your clothes before he finally decided to just rip them off completely. Before you could whine to him about your clothes being ripped, he silenced you with a kiss and promised to buy a new outfit for you. "I'll buy you whatever you want princess, just need to see you, need to see my pretty pussy." He moans pitifully when he does get a glimpse at your sex. "Fucking christ darlin' look how wet you are, all this for me?"

You nodded quickly and pulled him closer, "Logan please, need you in me, fuck me please I need it, need to feel you deep in me for the rest of the week." Your begging made his knees weak, it sounded like heaven to him, and who was he to deny you of what you wanted.

"Whatever, you need princess," he assured you with a smirk as he pulled away to finally undress completely. Your eyes widen seeing how hard he was, "Fucking hell Lo..." You muttered quietly knowing he would still hear you. "Does my girl need me?" He asked crawling up the bed, kissing the skin exposed as he moved further up your body.

When he finally reached your mouth, he gave you a sweet kiss as he slowly thrust into you. Oh, oh my fucking--! He groaned internally as he felt your warm walls stretch around him. You broke the kiss to moan his name, throwing your head back.

You ended up moving your hands to his shoulder to hold on to him better as he thrusted more erratic, and without noticing, your claws slowly started to appear from your nails. Before you could notice, they ended up digging into his shoulder muscle deeply. An animalistic moan ripped from his chest as he felt your claws draw blood. His hips moved on their own, in and out, into your warmth and out for a split second before plunging back into you faster and deeper than before. It was like his hips were moving faster than his mind could keep up, and the only thing he could think about was you.

Your warmth, your softness, your smell, your taste. You were the only thing on his mind. He could feel his eyes roll back as his orgasm approaches. With his eyes closed, he could feel every inch of you. It was like he could feel each one of your atoms against his.

His eyes fluttered open when he heard you whimper louder than before. "Fuck you're so pretty darlin, sound so pretty for me...need more, need you to cum." He moaned before he could finish his sentence. "I really, really need you to cum on my cock princess, need you to milk me. Take it, take it all from me princess it's yours." He grunted and moved your legs to be over his shoulders, given him a new angle to thrust even deeper than before. You screamed his name as you came on his cock. He leaned down to have your chest press together as he prepared to cum deep in your pussy, "Gonna cum-fuck gonna cum deep in my pussy, keep you full for a while then when it's dripped out, I'll fuck you again to keep you full all over again." His pelvis rubbed against your clit, making you clench around him even tighter than before thanks to the overstimulation he was giving you. Feeling you get even tighter made Logan moan out and finally give in before cumming as deep as he possibly could.

It felt like an eternity before Logan finally stopped cumming. He collapsed on top of you, completely breathless and his limbs felt numb. "Holy...fuck darling" he nearly giggles as he basks in his afterglow, in all of his life he cannot remember a time where he ever came like that. "I don't think I'd ever fucked that good before" he said kissing the bruises that he could reach that was slowly disappearing on your skin.

You sighed happily, feeling his lips on your skin. You started to play with his hair softly as you hummed in agreement. You couldn't remember ever having sex that intensely before. "What did you get into on that mission?" You asked curiously, and he shrugged. "Not much. There was this pink powder that poofed in my face, though." He said as if it meant nothing, "Logan!" You tried to look at him to see if he was drugged in some sort of way but before you could, you could feel his cock hardening inside you all over again.

Logan moved to have you caged between his arms once again and asked with a knowing smirk, "Round two?"

Well how could you say no to that?...

Tagging:

@userchai

@mahi-tamashi

@100percentlazybonez

@lanassmarty

@western-pyro

@misscrissfemmefatale

@marit332

@navs-bhat

@fluffy-b33z

@chaimshelii

@aoi-targaryen

@eyes-ofhell

@sad0ni0n

@fries11

@slowlikehoneyyy

@iamburdened

@brisinggamenwearer

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