#I got tired of waiting to scan it so I did my best with a camera

[alanisinskz]

⋆˚꩜｡ 「 ᢉ𐭩 matching 」

pairing > ot8 x gn!leader

summary > matching hair with skz

warnings > none

wc > 3,205

authors note ᢉ𐭩 > BAMM GUESS WHOS BACK sorry i lowkey disappeared but here’s an ot8 drabble <3

BANGCHAN - red highlights

Sure you had dyed your hair before. Like mostly everyone did. But you were tired of just doing your full head. You wanted to switch it up. Maybe some patterns or something would be cool.

You searched on tiktok and pinterest. Your feeds were filled with all these cool ways to dye your hair. You almost couldn’t pick.

Then, you saw it.

The chunky red highlights.

Your eyes almost had hearts in them. You were in love.

You immediately booked your appointment. No hesitation.

-

After a few hours, your was done. Dyed and styled. You gasped. You loved it. This was probably the best thing you’ve done in a while. You couldn’t believe how good it looked.

You took pictures, made tiktoks, all that jazz.

You didn’t tell Chan you were doing it. Probably because it was so sudden, or you just didn’t think to.

You quickly sent him a picture.

“Dyed my hair. You have to match.”

You barely got out of the message before Chan was responding.

“What?? You dyed it?? I have to match?? This is so much.”

You chuckled to yourself. You were halfway joking about the matching part. Not really expecting Chan to do it, so you just kept going.

“Yup. You have to match hair with me.”

“You got it🫡”

That was all Chan sent back. You shrugged it off. Leaving the hair salon and going back to your apartment.

-

Later that night. You were still fangirling over your hair. Twirling your fingers in it and what not.

You hadn’t heard from Chan since earlier, just thinking he was busy at the studio. So you didn’t think much of it.

Barely five minutes later Chan was walking through your door. He stopped in front of the couch where you were sitting, his arms in the air triumphantly.

“I did it!”

You just stared. Eyes open slightly wider. His bangs now had strips of red in them. You couldn’t believe he actually did it.

You coughed out. You had no words.

“I can’t believe you actually did it.”

Your eyes scanned his hair closely. Maybe this was a dream. But you knew it wasn’t. Chan actually dyed his hair to match yours.

LEE KNOW - silver

You always wondered what silver hair would look like on you. You had seen it on other people, it looked good. So why wouldn’t it look good on you? What was the difference?

You finally decided to just do it. It’s just hair, it’ll be fine.

You made your appointment, got the money ready, and headed over.

You were a bit nervous the whole time. What if you didn’t like it? What if it didn’t look good on you? You tried to shake those thoughts away. It will look good. It will.

Soon enough your hair was done. And you loved it. More than you thought you would. It fit you perfectly. You couldn’t wait to show Minho.

-

You made it home, Minho sitting on the couch. You ran inside.

“Look at my hair!!”

Minho’s eyes widened softly at your excited expression. Then he looked up. He smiled softly.

“It looks good babe.”

You smiled softly at Minho and walked over to join him on the couch. You laid your head on his shoulder, looking up at him softly.

“Now you have to do it. We have to match.”

Minho looked down at you, an eyebrow raised softly. You chuckled, not thinking much of it.

-

The next morning, you stirred awake. Groaning softly. You rubbed your face, your eyes still closed. You turned over, your arm going over to the other side of the bed. It was cold, and empty.

You jumped up, eyes wide open. Minho wasn’t there. Where was Minho?

You grabbed your phone, quickly texting him. He responded back quickly.

“Don’t worry babe, i’ll be back soon.”

You let out a breath after he sent it. You laid back down, scrolling on your phone.

Maybe ten minutes later you heard Minho walk through the door. You didn’t move, you knew he would come back in your room. And he did. But something was different.

His hair wasn’t that black anymore, it was lighter, shiner. Silver.

You sat up again quickly. Your phone falling off the bed from the sudden movement. Your mouth open slightly.

Minho stared at you, worried. He crawled next to you in the bed.

“What is it?”

“Your hair..you did it..”

You said softly. Your eyes never leaving Minho’s hair. You were joking about him matching you, never in a million years you thought Minho would have done it.

Minho chuckled softly. He nodded slowly and shrugged.

“You told me we had to match. So i did.”

CHANGBIN - green

You had dyed your hair almost every color. Red, Orange, Yellow , Pink, Purple, Blue. You name it. All those colors but green. The dye from the last time starting to fade, your roots showing.

Since it was almost time to dye your hair again, why not do it green this time?

You made the appointment and made your way there.

You didn’t want a bright green, something soft. Almost like a sage.

For the first time doing green, it was cute. Probably your favorite color that you’ve done.

On the way back to your apartment, you sent Changbin a quick picture. “Green !!”

Changbin texted back, telling you how much he liked it and when he’d be home.

-

You sat around your apartment. Scrolling on your phone or sending pictures of your hair to friends and what not.

Changbin walked through the door. Takeout bags in his hands. You stood up, helping him bring the stuff inside and sitting it down on the kitchen counter.

Changbin walked behind you. Just, admiring your hair. You turned around, you looked him up and down slightly.

“What are you staring at?” You chuckled softly.

“Your hair. It’s so pretty.” Changbin said. His eyes never leaving your hair.

He looked down at your face, his eyes meeting yours.

“If you like it that much we should match. You could get your hair done like this.”

You shrugged. Opening the takeout boxes, fixing yourself a plate.

Changbin looked up, like he was thinking. You didn’t really mean for him to dye his hair, you knew he didn’t dye it much. It’s not like you would’ve been mad if he didn’t dye his hair.

Barely 3 minutes later Changbin was looking at you again. A soft smile on his face.

“You’re right. I will get my hair done like yours.”

You didn’t hear him at first. Not until he was basically running out the door. You looked up confused, just hearing a quick “Love you, bye!”.

You shook your head softly, chuckling to yourself.

-

An hour or two went by, you had finished eating, laying down in your bed. You heard keys jingling then the door creak. It must’ve been Changbin. You still didn’t think anything of it.

You heard him make himself a plate, heating it up in the microwave. Then he yelled for you.

“Y/n!!!”

Your eyebrows furrowed. You pulled the blanket off of your legs and walked into the living room, Changbin standing by the microwave. You didn’t notice it at first, until you really looked.

“Y/nnie!! — My hair!” Changbin exclaimed. Pointing to his hair. It was green, that soft green like how you had just dyed yours.

You gasped, walking closer to him.

“Oh my gosh. Binnie.” You started, still in disbelief. Your fingers found their way into his hair.

“I was just joking, I didn’t think you would actually do it.”

Changbin just shrugged. A soft smile still on his face.

“Even if you didn’t mean it, I think green looks pretty good on me.”

HYUNJIN - pink

Pink hair. You had dreams about having pink hair. It was always in the back of your mind.

You finally realized, nothing was stopping you. You sucked it up, gave in. You were going to have pink hair.

You drove over to the hair salon and sat in the chair. Taking one last look at your hair at its current color, silently saying goodbye. But you knew it was gonna be such a good change.

-

You were back at home, your hair was finally pink. You loved it, it was everything you had been dreaming about and more.

You had told Hyunjin you dyed your hair, not really giving him that many details, he didn’t ask. He probably already knew from how often you talked about it.

Hyunjin walked in the door right after you did. Shutting it behind him.

“Your hairs really cute babe.” Hyunjin said softly. Hugging you from behind as you two walked more into the living room.

You looked back over your shoulder, you smiled softly. “Thank you.”

“You know, i was thinking of doing something different with my hair.” Hyunjin shrugged. He pulled away from you slightly, standing in front of you.

“Well you already shaved it all off.” You said playfully. Chuckling lightly. Hyunjin rolled his eyes playfully.

“Well you know what I mean. A different color.”

Hyunjin’s buzz was fresh. It was blonde still. Hyunjin didn’t really dye his hair that often, a few different colors here and there.

You shrugged. “Why don’t you go pink. We can match.”

Hyunjin paused. He nodded slowly.

“Yeah..yeah. That’s a good idea.”

He smiled softly. Looking back down at you.

“Tomorrow, i’ll go in. I’ll have a pink buzz.”

You chuckled softly as Hyunjin smirked after speaking. You halfway believed him. Why just because you dyed your hair Hyunjin dye his?

-

Hyunjin left early the next morning, dance practice and he had to go to the studio.

You figured he would be gone most of the day that day.

You never knew when Hyunjin would be back when he had work. Practices running long, or just the boys goofing off while recording.

Hyunjin sent you a text when he was on the way home, you responding, just a quick “okay.”

You heard the door open from your bedroom, you stood up from the bed and walked to the door, going to greet him like you always did.

Hyunjin wasn’t even all the way in the door and you saw a bright pink head. Hyunjin’s bright pink head. Your eyes widened slightly.

Hyunjin walked all the way through the door and shut it behind him. You walked closer to Hyunjin slowly, you reached your hand out. Touching his hair, making sure it was real.

“Hyunjin, did you seriously dye your hair just because i dyed mine?” You smiled softly. Pulling your hand away and looking up at him.

Hyunjin nodded proudly.

“Yeah, I told you I would.”

HAN - blue

You dyed your hair at home a lot. It costs way too much to just put some color on your hair. Especially when you could do it for 10-12 dollars on your own.

This time you were doing dark blue. You had already put the bleach and you were getting ready to put the blue on top. You were mixing it when you heard footsteps. Jisung walked into the bathroom.

“Are you dying your hair again?” He asked, stopping right beside you.

“Yup. Almost done mixing the color.” You nodded. Watching as the blue came together in the bowl.

Jisung looked up at you. “Do you wanna dye mine? We can match.” He smiled.

You looked up at Jisung. He had never asked for you to dye his hair before, maybe you were just a bit shocked.

You nodded.

“Yeah, I can. — I just need you to go to the store for me and get some more bleach and another thing of the blue.”

Jisung nodded. He walked out of the bathroom and out of the front door.

-

Maybe 10 - 15 minutes later Jisung came back. He held the bag on his wrist, walking back into the bathroom.

You were sitting on the side of the bathtub on your phone. You looked up at Jisung, sitting your phone on the edge of the sink and standing up.

“You ready?”

Jisung nodded.

“Go get an old shirt, I know you don’t wanna ruin your clothes.”

You barely looked away for five minutes and Jisung was gone. He had ran to his bedroom, quickly changing his shirt and running back into the bathroom.

You chuckled to yourself, mixing the bleach.

A few minutes after you put the bleach onto Jisung’s head, he was groaning. You laughed.

“Y/n!! This itches!” He exclaimed. Gripping the side of the bathtub tightly.

“It’s gonna itch! You just gotta wait!” You chuckled.

-

You finally mixed the blue together and had put it on Jisung’s head.

Jisung was bent over the side of the tub, you were washing it out for him.

“Are you almost done?” Jisung said, muffled from the faucet running.

“I’m never dying your hair again.” You shook your head softly.

“Huh?” Jisung yelled.

“Nothing.” You chuckled.

-

Jisung’s hair was finally dry, he almost ran to the bathroom mirror. Looking closely at his hair, his eyes going wide.

“Oh my gosh.. It looks so good.” He said softly. He turned his head to look at yours.

“Yours looks good too, I love that we’re matching.”

FELIX - blue

Felix didn’t dye his hair that often. He always had blonde hair. He had different colors before, black, ginger, but he always went back to blonde.

You saw STAYs tiktoks about how they missed blacklix or bluelix. You liked them, not even realizing that you missed it as well.

That was until Felix texted you.

“Hey, i’m dying my hair. Wanna match?”

You jumped up, rubbing your eyes. Making sure you were seeing this right.

“Uh, yeah sure. What color?”

“Blue.”

Your eyes widened. It was one thing for Felix to be dying his hair, but blue? It was a whole different story.

-

You were leaving the hair salon. You and Felix had something planned for after you both were done with your appointments.

You arrived at the same cafe you and Felix always went to. It was a you guys thing.

Felix walked in right after you had sat down. He smiled as he sat across from you, and you smiled as well.

You two got your drinks and were talking like normal, then Felix practically jumped up.

“Wait, we have to take a picture. One of those where it looks like we’re taking one of each other. You know?”

You looked up, a soft chuckle escaped your lips. You shrugged and nodded. “Yeah okay.”

You went to your camera, Felix did as well. You sat up your cameras directly across from each other. Your faces covered by your phones. You and Felix grabbed each other’s hands, holding them in the air where it was visible in both of your cameras.

You sent each other the pictures, putting your phones down after.

-

Later that night you and Felix were both back home. Felix was asleep next to you. You were getting ready to post the pictures on your instagram. You lined them up and put a song over it. Just captioning it “Twin🩵🩵 @yong.lixx”

After it posted you watched it, smiling to yourself.

You plugged your phone up, sitting it down on the nightstand. You looked over at Felix, him sleeping peacefully. Then your eyes moved up to his hair. Still slightly shocked he went back blue.

Then you got a glimpse of your hair, now that same blue color. Now you two had another thing that was only for you two.

SEUNGMIN - blonde

You had black hair for a while. Like, a while. It had gotten boring.

You had thought about what else to do. You didn’t wanna do something too different, like pink or green. Something simple, natural.

So, why not blonde? It was natural and not that hard to do. So you decided to bleach it.

-

You made the appointment and went to the hair salon. You told the stylist what you want and they did it. It didn’t take too long.

After doing it you texted Seungmin, just letting him know.

“Bleached my hair. Now you have to do it.”

“What? I’m not bleaching my hair for you Y/n. That’s dumb.”

You could practically hear the eye roll in Seungmin’s tone. You chuckled to yourself, you knew Seungmin wasn’t gonna do it. But why not just joke with him a little?

-

It had been maybe a day or two since you last talked to Seungmin. Nothing new or unusual.

But he was coming over, just to hangout.

You heard three knocks on the door, that’s how you knew it was Seungmin. You stood up from the couch and walked over to the door, opening it.

Seungmin walked in and you shut the door behind him. It wasn’t until you turned back around til you noticed his hair. It wasn’t black, it was lighter, it was blonde.

You froze, blinked a couple of times. Maybe you were seeing things. That’s what you thought, until Seungmin turned around, it was definitely blonde.

He looked you up and down, an eyebrow raised slightly.

“Y/n, what’s wrong with you.”

You just stared. You swallowed.

“You did it, you actually dyed your hair.” Your eyes widened slightly. Seungmin rolled his eyes softly, smacking his lips together.

“Yeah, don’t think it was because of you. I needed a change anyway.” He shrugged. You shook your head, laughing a bit.

Seungmin could deny it all he wanted, but you knew he did it for you.

I.N - ginger

Ginger hair. Hmm. It was definitely a thought. You thought about it often. Just one day popping up with ginger hair.

It wasn’t until Jeongin got it that you finally decided to get it as well.

You didn’t tell Jeongin that you were dying your hair, especially not that you were dying it to match his.

-

The dye was done. You were in love. It was so cute on you. It was soft and natural, it didn’t stand out. But you were okay with that.

You were going over to Jeongin’s, shaking in anticipation the whole way there.

You knocked on the door, your smile wouldn’t leave your face. You were so excited to show Jeongin your hair.

You waited patiently for him to open the door. You heard him yell, it was muffled but you heard it. Not long after the door opened. Jeongin standing there, then he noticed it. He just kinda froze.

“Innie!! Look at my hair!” You smiled.

“We’re matching!”

Jeongin was still quiet. You raised an eyebrow, did he not like it? You swallowed.

“Do-Do you not like it? I’m sorry, I should’ve asked first before i did it. I just-“ You started, Jeongin quickly cutting you off.

“No, no. I love it. It’s cute. I just wasn’t expecting it.” He smiled, you smiled back.

Jeongin nudged you inside. You walked in, taking your jacket off. Jeongin walked around the kitchen counter. You walked over, sitting across from him.

“I like that we’re matching. Now you can’t match with anyone else but me.”

authors note ᢉ𐭩 > so i did this with my second favorite skz hair colors, hope you all enjoyed. and TYYSMM for all the support🥹 also i wanna write a felix fic so give me recs!!

ps: if anyone did this first fulllll creds to them

pps: lino theme now hahaha ( i still love u innie )

[catthlaf]

“Then become something else,” the Trawler-man says, with the first of his two faces. “My currents are kind, and your flesh is pliant. I will make you something that cannot be bound.”

-The Silt Verses, Chapter VI: It Winds, It Worms, It Wends

[jacksabbotts]

✧ off the clock — ❪ part one ❫

pairings - jack abbot ( the pitt ) x fem!robinavitch!reader summary - in which you ( the reader ) have the roughest shift of your career and in your attempt to numb the guilt, you get drunk in the hospital parking garage. jack finds you and patches you up after you cut your hand on a piece of broken glass. trigger warnings - lowercase intended!!! | fluff | angst | eventual smut but NONE in this part ( srry not srry ) | a little suggestive | language | alcohol misuse | driving under the influence of drugs ( small mention ) | blood/cut from broken glass ( on the reader ) | motor vehicle accident ( small mention ) | elder abuse/neglect ( small mention ) | death of a child ( small mentions ) | child abuse ( shaken baby syndrome/small mention ) | death | probably some incorrect medical jargon ( i am not a medical profession so i did my best ) | a lot of guilt over losing patients ( no fault on the reader by anyone except herself ) | self destructive tendencies | pet names ( sweetheart, darling, angel ) | NO USE OF Y/N | reader goes by dr. robin and or dr. robinavitch notes - the literal brain rot this old man gives me, shoulda seen the disappointment on my face when i realized after episode one that i would have to wait until episode twelve to see my husband again. i am not responsible for your media consumption so read at your own discretion. ( mdi 18+ ) this is unbeta’d bc i dont have any beta readers :,(

masterlist | series masterlist | dividers by @cafekitsune | join the taglist

5:57am

the parking garage was quiet, especially considering that the sun was barely rising and most of the rotating shift was already clocked in or finally leaving. you were part of the latter. although in the past twenty three minutes the only move you had made was to reach into the glove box of your 2011 toyota corolla for the unopened bottle of tequila.

tonight has been one of the hardest shifts you've encountered since transferring to the pittsburg medical trauma center, informally known as the pitt to the staff, to be closer to your older brother.

the tire of your corolla was digging uncomfortably into your back through the thin scrubs that adorned your body. though you made no move to aleve yourself of the pain. it was your sick and twisted way of punishing yourself for the events that transpired during your shift.

no one in the pitt had blamed you for the patients that you had lost today and in the beginning, you hadn't blamed yourself. but the more the deaths had piled up on your roster the more you began to ask yourself, 'could i have done more'.

yesterday, or more accurately last night, you had lost a record number of five patients in one shift. your first was an elderly woman from a group home, who had arrived after experiencing cerebrovascular accident, most commonly known as a stroke. she had been helping another resident of her group home with a crossword when she just slumped over in her chair.

it was hours before they had called emergency services and the blood clot in her brain damaged her brainstem before she entered the ed doors. she was dead for hours before you ever even got your hands on her. but still you blamed yourself. it was a habit you knew better than to indulge.

the next three patients were from a motor vehicle accident. it was three teenagers. a midsize sedan had run a red light at seventy miles per hour and was t-boned by a semi-truck. you hadn't found out until later that all three of the teenager had been under the influence of drugs but by the time you did find out they had all already died, one on your trauma table, one in the or, and one in the ambulance.

the last one, and the more recent reason for your drunken stupor in the parking lot of you employment, was a child. a little boy not even a year old. it hadn't been until you'd seen the the brain scans and seen the subdural and retinal hemorrhaging. the baby had been shaken so hard and for so long that his brain had swelled inside his own head.

the mother had been sad enough but the boyfriend acted like he had a million other places to be. after declaring the ten month little boy officially braindead, you had left it to the oncoming shift to inform the family and the police.

you had never clocked out so fast, skipping the 'goodbyes' and 'good nights' from your favorite nurses and fellow residents in favor of sitting on the dirty ground in the hospital staff parking garage downing your guilt into a now half empty tequila bottle.

said tequila bottle clinked against the pavement as you set it down, tiny splashes spilling out and on to your dark scrubs, scrubs you'd wished were dark enough to hide the blood stains on the cuff of your pants.

the tequila mixed with the blood as you tried to scrub it out. you stopped after the blood stain widened in size and opted for another large swig of the aforementioned alcohol before placing it once again in between your stretched out legs. the label had begun to peel at your habitual picking and turned sticky from the contents running down the side.

you lifted your right hands and drug it across your mouth catching the drops spilling out of the corners of your mouth with your jacket. for a moment you had mistaken the drop for tears, but it had hit you that you hadn't shed a single tear through this whole ordeal. and that only made you feel like more of a monster. we're you so good at compartmentalizing that you had lost all the feelings that had made you a real person?

you didn't have an answer for yourself, so instead, for what felt like the hundredth time in the last half hour, the tequlia bottle was back on your lips, pouring so much into your mouth you almost gagged at the burning sensation. but that is what you had deserved right?

after telling upward of four different family members that their loved ones, the ones that had come to her for healing, wouldn't ever open their eyes again. that they would never eat their favorite food again. or listen to their favorite music. you had throughly convinced yourself that you deserved every burning drop that slid down your throat and poisoned your liver.

if your patient couldn't count on you to save their organs, why did you get to keep yours healthy and functioning? it was backwards logic but you were far to wasted to argue with the darker part of your subconscious.

you sputtered out a cough and the bottle clanked against the concrete ground but that wasn't the sound that had completely over taken your nervous system. footsteps echoed across the parking garage and you almost felt guilty for losing your composure here instead of the confines of your own apartment.

the key word being almost, as the cruel part of your brain reminded you of the morbid tally of deaths you had wracked up today had far outweighed the lives you had been able to save.

you wanted to scream. if you had been alone, you might have. and if you were a least a little more sober you might have commended drunk for having enough sense to hold it in. you squeezed your eyes closed, tight enough you began to see stars dancing on your lids, although that might have been all the tequila talking.

'you planning to sleep it off on the pavement?'

you opened you eyes, albeit taking your time. the rising sun shined bright behind him, making him look almost ethereal. not that you need it to. in your eyes jack abbot was a angel sent form heaven. as much as he tried to portray himself as the gruff war veteran without a soft bone in his body, you had seen right though him.

perhaps that is why he had been trying to hard to avoid you, despite being your boss. if it hadn't been for his familiar voice, a voice that you had spent the last three weeks practically memorizing, you might not have realized it was him for the sun blinded your drunken eyes.

you tried not to be embarrassed that even drunken you held the same candle that sober you held for him. you hoped that he wrote off the flush in your cheeks to your inebriated state.

his voice was dry and flat, a voice he used with most everyone, but you especially. as if he was always trying extra hard to hide the uptick in his voice anytime you started talking to him. and he'd thought to himself, how foolish he felt. like a damn teenage, feeling things he was far too old and far too emotionally complicated to indulge in.

she squints at him from her position on the ground. he stood a few feet away, leaned on his dark black truck with an indifference he would swear was natural. as if he didn't have to practice at least once a day when he knew he'd be seeing you.

he still wore is black scrub top and dark wash cargo pants. you wondered if he usually came to work ready or changed in the locker rooms. not that you needed to know the inner workings of his routines. but a part of you felt yourself wanting to know.

you laugh bitterly. even your silly little school girl crush on your much older boss didn't lift your spirits. you stand, although you don't think what you did counts as standing as you nearly face plant into the concrete. the fact that your car is still so close to you is the only reason you were still on your own two feet, slouched agains your corolla. you hold on to the backseat door handle and you stumble and lean down to snatch the tequila bottle into your hand once again.

even those his arms are crossed over his chest, you clock the small twitch in his hands as you stumbled. if you weren't plastered beyond the point of no return you might have thought he wanted to steady you. once in your hand, you raise the bottle to your lips in attempt to curve the silence and maybe spare yourself any more embarrassing moments. though you know that he alcohol will not help in those terms.

'come on, lets not do that. i think you've had enough.'

'your not . . . my - my boss right now, dr. abbot,' you slurred, stretching out the syllables of his last name, 'im oooofff the clock.'

tequila bottle still in hand, you begin patting down your pockets for the keys to your corolla, huffing out triumphantly upon hearing the telltale jingle in your scrub pant pocket. you pull out the object and immediately he grunts in disapproval.

'you're not driving.'

he steps forwards a millimeter, intent on taking the keys from your hand but never actually making the move to do so. you scoff as your giddy feeling from his mere presence turns sour.

'i don't need a babysitter . . . and you can-can't tell me what to do.'

'you're right, but you're still not driving."

he takes another step forward and holds out his hand. 'give me the keys.'

you step back, defiantly, tugging both your car keys and the alcohol bottle close to your chest. and he doesn't miss the way the action pushes your breasts up. even in the most unsexy piece of clothing you own the action was creating the illusion that they were bigger than they actually were.

he thanks the heavens that your probably too drunk to notice the way he was ogling your chest. he should have known that you noticed everything about him, drunk or not. you feel your lips tugging into a slight smirk but then remember that your mad at him, however foolish the reason may be.

'or what?'

your statement must have surprised him, the shock written on his face was evidence of that.

'you gonna take them from me, dr. abbot?'

'if i have to.'

you laugh at that. this man, who makes it his priority to avoid you at all cost, he's gonna take them from you. now that is something you'd pay to see. he grunts at your defiance, because of course you were calling his bluff.

'if you think i'm just gonna walk away and let you drive like this, you are a lot drunker than i thought.'

his face is unreadable. but his stance isn't confrontational. there’s no righteousness. no judgment. just observation. cold, clinical, and just maybe a little tired, not that he'd ever admit that to you or anyone else for that matter.

but what ticks you off the most is the way he's looking at you. like you were a child. like you were a delinquent he's just caught stealing from their parents liquor. it pisses you off more than you'd like to admit because you weren't a child, no matter how much your older brother insists you still are.

and jack abbot is the one person you didn't want to see you like that.

'don't pretend you care.' you snarled, though it didn't sound as threatening as you had wished it did, as much as you had intended. he doesn't take your bait. he just tilts his head, the barest hints of annoyance in his eyes.

'don't paint me the asshole for doing the bare minimum, sweetheart.'

your breath hitched at the pet name. you were never 'sweetheart' to him. it was always 'dr. robin' and if you were lucky just 'robin'. the pet name was a slip up on his part, but he didn't feel too worried about as he knew you probably wouldn't remember any of this tomorrow morning anyway.

but for you , no pet name in this moment could curve your anger, your guilt. you glared at him as your breath hiccups. too sharp to be a laugh. too shallow to be a sob.

'you think this is the worst thing i've done tonight?"

you hadn't actually meant to ask that. and jack seems to of understood that because he didn't respond, at least not in words. his shoulder sag just a little as he remember to grueling shift the both of you just endured. you more so than him.

there was another long silence, fulled with nothing but your guilt and his bare look of sympathy that your refused to acknowledge. you next actions were purely in attempt to get him to stop looking at you in the way you had looked at yourself in the mirror just an hour prior.

despite your rash action of throwing your keys square at his chest, he still caught them. 'fine!' your yell echoed through the parking garage, 'you win! are you happy?'

though you refused to give up your tequila bottle even when he reached for it. you stumbled forward, probably in attempt to reach his truck, you weren't actually sure. your own feet tangle with themselves and you flailed around helplessly as you fell forward. the bottle fell to the ground and shattered with a sickening crack.

'woah there! come on.'

and if not for jack, you'd probably of hit the concrete with the same sickening crack. his hands gripped your waist as he pulled you into his chest. the grip was anything but professional. his fingers dug into her top as he tried to steady you. his touch made your head spin more than the alcohol did.

you, in turn, gripped his scrub top as if he was the only thing holding you up. and to be far that was probably true. he was warmer than you thought he'd be. the cold and nonchalant attending that you had come to know what acting like he was anything but. like nothing you'd experience from him.

you rested your cheek to his clothed shoulder and hummed as your eyes fell closed. if his face were half an inch closer to your head, it'd be resting against it. you could feel his steady breath on your ear, lightly swaying the fallen strands of your hair. for a second, you swore you heard his breath hitch much like yours did.

but your bliss was cruelly short lived. when you opened your eyes, you eye sight landed directly on the broken glass bottle to your right. you were upset for a number of reasons, rational and irrational. but the first one that came to your mind was that you would no longer be able to drown your sorrows from the inside out.

you mumbled out a quiet, almost to quiet to hear, 'no,' into his shirt. you pulled out of his grasp, despite his verbal and physical protests. you fall to your knees in front of the broken bottle. there was nothing to salvage but still you reached for the broken glass.

'hey, no, your gonna-' 'fuck!'

you groan as the sharp glass slices through the skin of your palm. its not deep enough to require stitched but it bled like it did. dripping blood on to the dirty concrete below.

'- cut yourself. christ, do you ever listen?' his jaw clenches. he's angry but not at you. its almost like he is angry at the cut itself, at the glass for harming you, even if it was you fault. because how dare anything cause you harm and get away with it.

he pulls his back pack off his back, not surprisingly fast or easy because it was only hanging off one shoulder to begin with. the back pack was green with a camo pattern and if you were so focused on the blood dripping down your wrist, you'd have probably noticed the personalization he had done to the front of it. in medium sized black bold lettering was his name. 'abbot'.

and of course he carried a first aid kit in it. he didn't say a word as he leaned down, groaning as he settled on his knees in front of you. he wasted no time at all reaching forwards and grabbing her wrist.

the reservations he had about getting too close flew right out the window the moment blood was drawn. you mumbled a drunken 'ow' as he applied the damp alcohol wipe to her already red skin, wiping the blood away.

'not gonna lecture me?'

'said it yourself, not your boss right now.' he tossed the now dark pink alcohol wipe in favor of grabbing a piece of gauze and medical tape. he wrapped the tape and you winced again. he glanced at you briefly.

'it's too tight.' you mumbled, reaching to loosen some of the tape, but jack grabbed your other hand in his, stopping you from doing anything. 'yeah, well, i'd rather you didn't bleed to death in my truck.'

you snorted, it was involuntary but you flushed with embarrassment anyway. it wasn't like he had just confessed his undying love for you but he had admitted that he didn't want you to bleed to death. that was an improvement, at least in your book.

'didn't know you cared, dr. abbot.'

'your my best resident, dr. robin. need you in tip top shape.'

and you were back to the professionalism. you weren't going to lie and say you didn't appreciate his sentiment. but was that all you wanted to be to him? his resident?

he must have noticed your shift in demeanor because not longer after and his touch left yours all together. his thumb that had been rubbing small circles on the inside of your wrist in an attempt to soothe, now left the space cold. the butterflies, no matter how cliche is sounded, that had taken up resident inside your stomach and under your ribcage had settled the moment his skin left yours.

you wanted to reach out and put his hand back in yours and to be honest, you almost did. you had the ultimate excuse and your drunken state gave you the perfect alibi.

THE END

[alienzil]

Grandfathered In

There, a job well done. Alfred thought to himself as he put the last grocery bag in the back of the car. Meal planning and shopping for a family as large as his own (and their semi frequent unexpected guests) did take quite a bit of his time but he'd managed to finish a bit early this week.

Alfred was thinking fondly of spending his extra time with a nice cup of tea and a book when he heard a noise from the nearby alley.

He stilled and listened intently. That was the sound of someone in pain. A child in pain if he wasn't mistaken (a sound he would rather he wasn't so familiar with). Well then, the tea would have to wait.

Alfred quietly moved into the alleyway, his hand inside his coat gripping the pistol hidden there. Hurt child or not, it never hurts to be cautious in Gotham.

"Good Heavens!"

There was a boy with pure white hair and bright, barely open, luminous green eyes. He was curled up, partially hidden by the dumpster, clearly barely clinging to consciousness and was oozing bright green blood from a large abdominal wound as well as several smaller cuts and burns.

He approached slowly and held out his hands to try to appear as friendly and non threatening as possible. "You appear to be in a bit of trouble young sir, perhaps I can help?"

The boy nodded weakly and Alfred knelt down and reached to pick him up. Best to get him into the car quickly and make use of his emergency first aid kit to stabilize the boy then get him home for further treatment. The hospital clearly wasn't an option for the young Meta... or alien perhaps? Something to ask once the boy was up to it.

Alfred carefully cradled the child and briskly moved back towards the car. He appeared to be a young teenager but he weighed so little, Alfred almost felt as though he was holding a toddler rather than a teen.

He lay the boy down in the back seat and leaned over to reassure him, gently moving his hair out of his eyes and petting is head in a soothing gesture. "There now, we'll have you right as rain in no time."

"Ha" the injured young Meta tried to laugh. "Might take...some time.. Don't ya think?"

Oh he'd fit right in, Alfred couldn't help thinking. Sassing even as he lay there bleeding. Well, in spirit if not quite the usual appearance, Alfred considered, eyeing the white hair and bright green eyes but-

A bright white suddenly light filled the car. Alfred blinked away the spots from his vision then stared in astonishment at the now black haired, blue eyed boy before him. Well then, fit right in indeed.

*****

Bruce blearily wandered into the kitchen and sat down at the table just barely holding in a yawn. He'd been in space on a mission with the Justice League for over 3 weeks and had only just gotten back to Earth in time to crash into bed and get a few hours of sleep before he had to be back up.

He reached for his coffee and looked around the table at his children. Tired as he was, it was good to be home. It even looked like everyone had made it for breakfast, a rare event for their family. Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass, Stephanie, Barbara, Damian, Duke and...

"Who's this?" Bruce asked with friendly smile. Did one of his kids make a new friend?

Alfred silently appeared next to him. "That is your son."

"My son?" What was happening? Bruce was too tired for this. He counted again, Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass, Stephanie, Barbara, Damian, Duke and...he looked closely at the last one. Black hair, blue eyes. Looks like one of his... He had no idea who this child was.

"Your son." Alfred said firmly as he sat some papers next to Bruce's plate.

Bruce looked down. Those were adoption papers.

"Oh. My. God." Stephanie whisper screamed from across the table. "That's where B got the adoption habit from!"

Bruce's attention was diverted from the multiple children trying to shush Stephanie as an uncapped pen was placed in front of him. He looked up as Alfred raised a single eyebrow and gave him a pointed look.

"Right, of course. My son."

He quickly scanned the adoption papers as he signed them then looked over at his latest child.

"Welcome to the family, Danny."

Note: I don't currently have plans to continue this. Anyone can add on if they would like to :-)

[malsmind]

the sweetest

chris sturniolo x reader

“what’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever done?” “fuck a girl on her period.”

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, period sex, fingering, praising, pet names (baby,ma, angel), very fluffy n sweet, aftercare!

author's note: inspired by that one question lil peep was asked in an interview

wc: 1.1k

english is not my first language!

your day’s been shit. you’re on your period, your cramps aren’t as bad as they usually are, but you’re just not in the best mood. you’re tired, you can’t be bothered to get things done, it sucked. your boyfriend has been the sweetest to you the whole day. getting you food, giving you back massages, cuddling with you all day long, whatever you wanted, he did it.

you stepped out of the shower, drying yourself off, already missing the feeling of the warm water running over your aching muscles. you put your clothes on and left the bathroom. chris was laying on his bed, scrolling trough his phone while the movie you put on was on pause, ready to be watched. chris looked up from his phone, giving you a warm smile. “you feelin’ a little better?” he asked, putting his phone down.

“not much, honestly wish i could stay in the shower forever” you whine, flopping down on the bed beside him. “it’s just so relaxing you know what i mean?”

“yeah i get what you mean” he chuckled, pulling you into his arms. you cuddled up to him, his warm hands immediately landing on your lower stomach, knowing you love feeling the comfort of his touch whenever you’re on your period. he pressed play on the movie, leaning back against the headboard. you got comfortable in his arms, resting your head on his chest, watching the movie play on the TV in-front of you.

chris’s fingers trace over your stomach in a soothing manner, making you tense up slightly at the feeling.

as the movie went on, your eyes scanned over the way his fingers traced your stomach. it was so innocent, he was just making sure you were comfortable, after all. you couldn’t help but imagine the many other ways your boyfriends fingers made you feel good. chris of course noticed the way your eyes followed his fingers every movements, a small grin tugging at his lips. chris moved his fingers lower down, playing with the waistband of your shorts. your breath hitched a little when he glided his fingers along.

“you not gonna watch the movie? haven’t seen your eyes look up at the screen once in the past 10 minutes, baby.” his voice pulled you out of your trance, making you rearrange your eyes back to the TV screen. “sorry, zoned out.”

your answer made chris chuckle. watching you try your hardest to put your focus back to the movie playing, chris leaned up a little, fully aware of what’s going trough your head. he slid his hand into your shorts, watching you intently, as his fingers danced over your clothed heat. you knew what his intentions were, and you also knew that he basically read your mind. you melted into his touch, leaning your head back onto his shoulder.

“you want me to touch you?” he spoke lowly, waiting for your consent before going any further.

“i’m on my period chris…” you sighed knowing that more than anything right now you wanted his fingers to relief the tension in your body.

“i’m aware, so can i touch you?”

his words made you sink your teeth into your lower lip and you nodded. he wasted no time, pulling your panties aside to run his fingers trough your wet folds, carefully pushing them inside your needy hole. his fingers moved slowly, in and out. you let out a sigh of relief, your body relaxing and the tension in your muscles loosening.

the movie in the background was long forgotten as chris’s fingers curled up. you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, muffling your moans while his fingers picked up their pace. chris placed a small kiss on top of your head before speaking up, “could give you more than just my fingers if you want..”

“what about the mess? i don’t wanna get your sheets bloody chris..” chris pulled his fingers out, moving on top of you. his lips met yours and he kissed you sweetly, slowly moving down to press slow, soft kisses to your neck. “you know i don’t mind ‘the mess’. jus’ wanna make you feel good.” he mumbled against your skin. you agreed, mumbling a small ‘okay’.

his hands carefully tugged your shorts off along with your underwear, pulling his own down. he took his dick into his hand, rubbing his tip along your slit, lubricating it in your wet mix of period blood and arousal. chris slowly pushed his hips forward, making sure he wasn’t inflicting any pain on you when his dick glided smoothly into your pussy. you bit your lip, gripping his shoulders when he bottomed out inside of you, letting out a low groan. his hips moved slowly into yours, the squelching sound of his dick moving in and out of you filling the room, mixing with the sound of the TV playing. delicate moans left your lips when he picked up his pace, leaning his head down to press his lips to your neck again.

“doin’ sooo good for me baby, fuck..” he praised, small moans leaving his lips now.

“lookin’ so pretty, shit ma.”

his words made you go crazy. the way he always made sure you felt so good. you could feel yourself getting close, your orgasm building up with every thrust of his hips into your own. chris knew you were close too, your walls clenching around his dick while he moved in and out of you, always hitting all the right spots.

“good girl, that’s it.” he breathed out, approaching his own orgasm.

“yes, juuust like that baby.”

before you knew it, your moans grew louder and your orgasm washed over you, making your legs cross behind his back, pulling him closer into you. chris couldn’t hold back either, feeling you cumming around him did it for him. his head fell onto your shoulder, muffling his own moans and with one more thrust, his cum coated your walls.

the both of you laid there for a little while, catching your breath. he carefully moved up and pulled out of you, looking down at where your bodies were connected just a second ago. he grabbed his boxers to clean both you and himself up.

“didn’t make that much of a mess.” he smiled down at you. you hummed in response, your eyes were heavy, you were surprised at how much your orgasm wore you out. chris threw his boxers aside, laying down behind you, pulling you back into his chest.

“you okay angel?” he asked, placing small kisses over your face.

“mhmm, tired.” you mumbled out, cuddling back into his body. his arms hugged around your waist, holding you close. both of you were more tired out than you thought you’d be, with the warmth and comfort of each others body, you eventually gave in to your tiredness and drifted off to sleep. chris wasn’t far behind, giving you a few more kisses before relaxing back onto his pillow, holding you in his arms as he fell asleep aswell.

© 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝

dividers by @strangergraphics

-

@sturniololuv08 @middlepartmatt @forgottxen @emely9274 @impossiblecollectorcat @staargazr

[cherrylibby]

Only You

You weren’t the jealous type. Not usually. Not when it came to him.

Bradley Bradshaw was your best friend. Your ride or die. The person who knew your coffee order, your favorite movies, your most embarrassing middle school stories, and the exact way you liked your burgers. You’d known him for years now, and despite the way he looked at you sometimes—like you hung the stars—you told yourself it was nothing. He was flirty with everyone. He was Bradley.

But tonight, something was different.

The Hard Deck was packed, music humming low under the buzz of conversation and laughter. You were sitting at the bar with a drink in your hand and a quiet ache in your chest. Across the room, Bradley was laughing—really laughing—with a pretty blonde who kept touching his arm and twirling her hair.

You shouldn’t have been staring. You shouldn’t have cared.

But the sight of him leaning in close, his smile warm and easy, made something twist inside you. Something insecure and ugly. You could feel it bubbling up even as you looked away, heart sinking.

You weren't her. Not effortlessly flirty or smooth or shiny. You were his best friend. The girl who wore sweatpants to movie night and cried at commercials. The one he called “dude” and “trouble” with a grin and a wink. Not the girl who got that look.

“Y/N?” Natasha’s voice broke through your thoughts. “You okay?”

You nodded too quickly. “Yeah, just tired. I think I’m gonna head out.”

She looked like she didn’t believe you, but let you go with a quiet, “Text me when you get home.”

You slipped out the back, the warm California air brushing your skin as you walked toward your car, heart heavy and eyes burning.

You didn’t see Bradley’s eyes darting across the bar looking for you. You didn’t see the way his smile dropped the second he realized you were gone. He excused himself mid-conversation, didn’t even notice the girl’s disappointed sigh as he beelined out the door.

“Y/N!”

You froze. He was jogging after you, chest rising and falling, brow furrowed with worry. “Where are you going?”

You gave him a small shrug. “Just tired.”

He stared at you for a second too long, eyes scanning your face like he could see every unspoken word, every thought in your head. “Did I do something?”

“No,” you said quickly, then softer, “No, you didn’t.”

His brows drew tighter. “Then why won’t you look at me?”

“I am looking at you,” you said, your voice wobbling even as you tried to play it cool. “Go back inside, Bradley. She’s probably waiting.”

He blinked. “She who?”

“The girl you were talking to. The one who looked like she was ready to climb you like a tree.” You meant it as a joke, but it cracked as it left your mouth.

Bradley was quiet for a second. Then he took a slow step forward.

“You think I wanted her?” His voice was soft. Barely above a whisper.

You looked down. “Didn’t look like you didn’t.”

He exhaled like it physically hurt, running a hand through his curls. “Jesus, Y/N.”

When you didn’t say anything, he took another step until he was right in front of you. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

You swallowed. “Get what?”

“That I don’t see anyone else. That it’s always you.” His voice cracked. “I’m in love with you.”

Your breath caught.

Bradley took your face in his hands, eyes locked onto yours with the kind of softness that made your knees weak. “You’re it for me. Have been for a long time. Every time you laugh, every time you say my name, every time you wear that stupid hoodie you stole from me—I fall harder. You’re the only one I want.”

Your eyes welled with tears. “Then why were you—?”

“I was being polite,” he said, smiling like it hurt. “I was trying to not stare at you across the bar like I always do.”

Your voice was small. “You stare at me?”

“All the damn time.” He laughed, forehead leaning against yours. “You just never notice because you’re too busy not noticing how perfect you are.”

Your heart flipped so hard it felt like it stalled in midair.

“Bradley,” you whispered.

“Yeah?”

“I’m in love with you too.”

His smile bloomed so wide and soft it made your whole chest ache. And then he kissed you. Slow and sure, like he had all the time in the world to show you just how much he meant it.

And when he pulled back, he didn’t stop looking at you.

Not once.

[cxrrodedcoffin]

Dead of Night - Spencer Reid

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

Summary: Spencer stumbles upon a secret dark fantasy of reader’s and does everything he can to be the one to fulfill it.

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: This is the first time I’ve ever written anything with themes like this so feedback is definitely appreciated. Not proofread cuz this is long and I’m tired ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I fully understand if the themes included in this are not for some of my regular readers and I encourage you to scroll if you’re not comfortable with any of the following warnings.

TW: perv!spencer, dom!spencer, mask kink, knife play, blood, dubcon, kind of cnc but it’s emphasized repeatedly that reader initiates and is in control of what is taking place, unprotected sex, penetration, creampie, degradation (slut), pet names (doll, angel) religious imagery, gun mention, std testing mention, fem + afab reader, soulmate talk

Rating: R, 18+

——

You knew it was wrong, you’d seen just how easily Penelope was able to track someone down through their “anonymous” profile on websites just like this one, but your desires got the better of you, and you just had to try.

Your profile was nondescript, your age, a vague physical description of yourself, and a link to a meticulously detailed account of your wildest fantasies. After weeks of back and forth, chatting with a few equally nondescript profiles, you found the one that you really clicked with, the stranger you decided you’d let sneak into your window and do whatever he wanted with you. After an std panel and the agreement of your safe word, you decided to fully commit, sending this complete stranger your address and logging off for the night.

Even though you knew this was a stupid idea, you weren’t a complete idiot, you had plans in case anything went south, including placing your handgun in your bedside table for easy access if you, god-forbid, had to use it. Placing yourself in a high-risk situation was the whole point, and you couldn’t wait to see how it turned out.

You spent the remainder of your afternoon preparing, doing every grooming ritual you’d usually do before a date, but this time felt somehow more important. You didn’t even know what this guy looked like, and yet, you wanted to be the picture of beauty for him. It was silly, but you always pictured yourself the prettiest you’d ever been when you daydreamed about being ravaged by a stranger. You wanted to be completely irresistible in every way, and you were doing everything in your power to accomplish that.

As the sun finally set, your excitement levels began to rise, anxiously awaiting the arrival of your masked suitor. You opened the bedroom window just above your fire escape, the cool night air drawing goosebumps over your exposed skin, only a thin lace slip and matching panties adorning your frame. You crawled into bed, double checking your bedside drawer before pulling your comforter over your body, eagerly drifting off to sleep.

—

Spencer had been keeping a secret, one that he did not want you to know about, until today. A few weeks ago he’d stayed late to finish up some paperwork for the last case you’d been on, when his pen ran out of ink just as he was about to sign off the last document. He walked to your empty desk, reaching across it to grab a pen from the cup next to your monitor, when his arm brushed against your mouse, causing your display to light up.

He knew he shouldn’t snoop, but curiosity got the best of him, scanning through the title of each tab open on your browser until a certain website caught his eye. He went against his better judgment and clicked the tab, his jaw dropping upon viewing your profile, and with it, the graphic description of your sexual proclivities. His brain immediately cemented that information in his mind’s eye, fit to torture him for days after the encounter.

He couldn’t stop picturing himself fulfilling all of those desires for you, having to excuse himself to the bathroom several times a day to take care of the bulge in his pants just from being around you. He eventually bit the bullet, creating his own profile on the website and messaging you as an “anonymous” suitor, beyond pleased when the two of you hit it off. He felt bad not telling you, but this was a means to an end that would surely leave you both satisfied, and the devious part of him won out this time.

He did everything you asked, getting tested so he could fuck you raw, he was apprehensive about the risks of a potential pregnancy even without the fear of std transmission, but the way you begged so beautifully in your messages for him to creampie you was more than enough to convince him. The moment he got your message with your address, he went out and purchased a mask to conceal his identity just like you asked, and anxiously waited for nightfall.

—

The graze of fabric against your skin gently woke you as your bedding was pulled down off of your body, your mind clouded from the deep sleep you’d been sunk in seconds before. You rolled onto your back, starting to lift your head until a large hand clamped over your mouth, forcing your head back down onto your pillow. Your eyes widened, darting around the room before settling on the masked figure on top of you. You tried to scream against his palm, but the sound simply reverberated back against you, muffled by his strong grip.

His free hand made quick work of cutting off your slip, the thin fabric splitting easily against the blade of the knife in his grasp. You struggled underneath him, weakly pushing at his strong shoulders, feigning defense as the heartbeat in your cunt grew stronger by the second. You couldn’t believe this was actually happening, the adrenaline coursing through your veins making you feel almost high.

“Don’t fight it.” He hushed, holding the knife flush against your neck. You slowed your movements, settling for shifting your legs against his. He removed his hand from your mouth, freeing it up to gather your hands to pin them above your head as well as give you an opportunity to use your safe-word if need be.

He trailed the knife down your body, your chest heaving with shaky breaths as the blade scratched a small cut between your breasts, warm droplets of blood forming in it’s wake. He followed the curve of your body, leaving shallow kitten scratches until he reached your hip, using the tip of the knife to carve a heart into your skin. The sting of each movement set every nerve ending in your body on fire, the wetness pooling between your thighs increasing by the second.

He pressed his thumb to the wound, smearing the blood down to the waistband of your panties, using the digit to pull the fabric before letting it snap back against your skin. You gasped, your labored breaths growing more desperate as he brought the blade to slice the fabric, exposing your embarrassingly wet cunt.

“Look at how wet you are, you love this, don’t you?” The condescension in his tone felt almost half-hearted, and the more of his voice you heard, the more familiar he started to sound, but you couldn’t quite place why. You looked down at him, watching his every move as you tried to place him.

He set the knife on the bed, using his now free hand to yank his pants down, his hard cock slapping against his thigh. Your eyes went wide at his size, looking just long and thick enough to have you a little worried about being able to take him raw, but the thought of being stretched to your limits sent another wave of arousal straight to your core and helped quell that fear ever so slightly.

“If you don’t want this, just say the word.” His words dripped from his lips like honey, sickly sweet, and in that moment you had never felt more sure of your desire for anything in your life.

—

Spencer wondered if the way he was feeling was akin to that of religious psychosis, so engulfed in your very being that he ought to worship at your altar for the rest of his life, fit to carry out any act you requested of him.

His brain kept your description of your fantasy scrolling in the back of his mind, catering to everything you had written to a T in hopes of making this a night you’d never forget. The only thing at the forefront of his thoughts, however, was the intoxicating sounds you made every time he gripped or marked your skin. Each note sought to pull his focus, threatening his plan as it tempted him to lose control all together. He couldn’t do that, his conscience too righteous in its goal to keep you as pleased as possible.

He took his time, marking you just the way you’d requested, his cock twitching with every whimper that flowed out of you until he finally reached your core, the lace of your underwear glistening under the moonlight cast through your open window from how wet you were. He wanted to sink fully into you without a care in the world, but he had to make sure this was absolutely what you wanted. He was, to your knowledge, a stranger after all, and the last thing he wanted was for you to be uncomfortable in any way.

—

You frantically shook your head in acknowledgment, spreading your legs wider for him, ready for this tall stranger to finally be inside of you. Your eagerness spurred him on, a surge of confidence washing over him as he let go of your wrists, his large hands gripping your hips and pulling you further down the bed. He lifted your legs so your knees rested atop his shoulders, his rough movements making you gasp.

He brought his cock to your core, running the shaft through your slick folds before slapping the head against your clit a few times, the repeated hits making your hips jolt ever so slightly. He hummed low in the back of his throat, lining up his tip with your entrance before thrusting forward, bottoming out inside of you in one fell swoop.

“You’re so tight.” He grunted, one hand holding an iron grip on your thigh to hold your leg up, the other digging fingerprints into your hip. You gasped once more at the intrusion, feeling more full than ever before as he set a steady but unrelenting pace. Your gasp turned to crying moans, brows furrowed in awe at the way his cock stretched you so deliciously, prominent veins rubbing against the contours of your sensitive walls.

Each snap of his hips had his balls slapping against your ass, the lude sound mixing with his grunts and the wet squelching where your bodies met in the most intimate way, the decibel level in the room reaching an all-time high.

You bit your lip, trying to quiet yourself to at least somewhat lower the noise and not disturb your sleeping neighbors, but the absence of your desperate moans was not lost on him. His pace slowed, his left hand firmly gripping your chin to force you to look at his masked face. His eyes met yours through the thin slit in the dark fabric.

You knew those eyes, those big, soft brown irises, so comforting, yet darker than you recognized, pupils far more blown than you’d ever seen before. You knew him, but there was no way. Your mind must have been playing tricks on you, because there was no way that Spencer Reid would do anything this perverse, let alone with you.

“Louder, slut.” He squeezed your cheeks, forcing your lower lip out from under your bite.

“I-I’m not a slut.” You mumbled, barely above a whisper.

“Only a slut would leave her bedroom window open, practically begging a stranger to come in and fuck her.” This was far too brazen to be Spencer, you thought, a level of blunt confidence you’d never in a million years expect from him.

“I-I didn’t mean to.” You stuttered over your words, raising your voice in an attempt to half heartedly defend your actions.

“Well then, you should really be more careful next time.” He laughed, releasing his grip on your face before playfully slapping your cheek and increasing the pace of his thrusts, his now free hand finding your clit. His calloused thumb drew broad strokes over and over and over against your sensitive bundle of nerves, a knot tightening in your stomach as you drew closer and closer to your release. You turned your head, trying to bury your face in the pillow as you writhed underneath him, your body frantically looking for relief.

“Oh don’t be shy doll, let me see how much you’re enjoying this.” His tone was almost sing-song, clearly enjoying this just as much as you were. He pressed his body down closer to yours, almost pinning your thighs against your stomach, the change in angle forcing a borderline scream from your lungs, crying out strangled ‘uh’s with every stroke. You looked him in the eye, desperate to know if this deity above you could possibly be your nerdy coworker, and every interaction you’d had with him flashed before your eyes.

Every fleeting glance he took at your chest or your ass, the way he lingered behind you in the field, feeling his presence even when you couldn’t see him. You couldn’t think of a time he wasn’t around a corner when you turned it, always near whenever you needed his help on a case. You always secretly hoped he'd make a move sooner or later, but you never thought it would be anything like this.

He was omnipotent, knowing exactly how to make you feel things you’d never felt before, pushing your body to levels of pleasure you never thought possible. You thought you might disappear, your brain short-circuiting as you tried to make sense of everything, finally understanding why the French refer to orgasms as the little death.

Your walls fluttered around him, the sounds leaving you reduced to pathetic whimpers as your vocal chords grew strained.

“That’s it, cum on my cock, angel.” He groaned, his thrusts growing increasingly desperate. The pet name surprised you, but if he saw you as an angel, how fitting considering how godlike he felt to you in that moment. You could tell he was close, and if your orgasm was what would get him to cum inside you, then so be it. Your eyes glazed over, your hands clawing at his back as you chanted ‘fuck, fuck, fuck’ like a mantra, wave after wave of euphoria washing over every nerve in your body.

—

Spencer was a man possessed, his primal urges leaving his mind completely uninhibited, so lost in your body that he thought he might need divine intervention to ever leave you.

He didn’t quite understand where the sudden dominant urge coursing through his veins had come from, but he didn’t care to dwell too much on the thought, content to fuck you into the mattress until you screamed his name.

He knew that wouldn’t happen, but he secretly hoped you’d realize who he was, wishing for nothing more than for you to want him for him. His heart felt like it may burst at the thought, the desire to be wanted as he was ever-lingering inside of it, that being the very motivation behind his lingering tendencies from the start.

As your heat contracted around him, he felt an embrace like no other, hoping the myth of twin flames to be true. If this connection wasn’t proof of it, how could he rationally explain anything? He knew the scientific reasoning behind it, but it didn’t feel like enough, such a finite explanation for a feeling so sempiternal.

He wondered if you felt the same way too, so lost in his every desire that he let himself dive into the delusion, using the pet name he wished he could call you every day for eternity.

Your chants and cries as you came set him free, his hips stuttering as he finally filled your aching cunt to the brim with his seed. He hovered above you, catching his breath, watching your expression soften as you rode out your orgasm, practically glowing.

When he finally snapped out of his lust-fueled haze, he fully remembered his role, pulling out of you and quickly scrambling to stand, fixing his pants and underwear. You had agreed to his departure after, and as badly as he wanted to hold you until you drifted off to sleep, he respected your wishes more than his wants. He walked to the window, lifting his leg to climb out of it when you cleared your throat, drawing his attention. He turned, seeing you sit up, hazy smile on your face.

“Thank you.” You sighed, and he gave a nod of acknowledgement before slipping out of the window and into the night.

—

When you awoke, you had a couple minutes of doubt in which you thought the events of the night before had all been a dream, until you moved to get out of bed and winced at sting from the shallow marks adorning your body and the dull ache between your legs. You smiled to yourself, before looking at your phone and realizing what time it was. You were going to be late, and panic set in when you realized you’d have to go to work in the makeup you’d fallen asleep in last night.

You rushed out the door, checking your makeup in a compact mirror in your car, wiping a small bit of smudged mascara off of your brow bone before walking into work.

“Fun night?” Derek quipped as you walked through the doors, always the first to poke fun at your perceived escapades.

“You could say that.” You laughed, setting your handbag on your desk before joining the team to walk to the conference room.

“What happened?” Penelope asked, almost panicked, taking your arm in her hand and pointing to the only visible cut on your body.

“Oh that’s nothing, I just scraped my arm on my car door.” You reassured, smiling at her. As much as you loved your best friend, she didn’t need to know the truth of your little white lie.

“You should really be more careful next time.” Spencer’s voice came from behind you, his hand gently resting on your hip before squeezing right where the heart shaped cut from the night before was inlaid in your skin. His words reverberated in the space between your ears as your brain processed what he’d just said.

Realization hit you like a semi truck, your lips parting in shock. Your suspicions had been correct, and you almost wanted to turn around and kiss then interrogate him right there. You couldn’t do that though, having a full work day in front of both of you.

Now you just had to figure out a time and place to broach the subject with him without completely humiliating yourself.

——

part 2 can be found here

tag list: @pleasantwitchgarden @lover-of-books-and-tea

DM me or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my general or spencer reid taglist :)

[isak-dot-gov]

Operation Surprise Paige

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Summary: It’s Valentine’s Day, but Paige’s busy practice schedule keeps her from spending the day with the reader. Wanting to make the night special despite the circumstances, the reader surprises Paige by setting up a cozy indoor picnic in her dorm,

Word count: 1069

My Masterlist :)

You stared at your phone screen for what felt like the hundredth time that day, rereading Paige’s last text:

PB: I’m so sorry, babe. Practice is running late. I promise I’ll make it up to you.

You sighed, setting your phone down on your lap. It wasn’t like this was a huge surprise—basketball was Paige’s life, and you knew that when you started dating her. But Valentine’s Day was supposed to be special. You had hoped for at least a few uninterrupted hours together, maybe a cute brunch date or a late-night dinner after practice. Instead, Paige was stuck in the gym, and you were sitting in your dorm, alone, wondering if you’d even get to see her before the day ended.

A part of you wanted to wallow in your disappointment, but another part—the one that loved Paige more than anything—refused to let this day be a complete letdown. If Paige couldn’t take you on a Valentine’s Day date, then you’d bring the date to her.

You wasted no time putting your plan into action. First, you grabbed your coat and headed off campus to pick up a few essentials. A quick stop at the store got you everything you needed: a fluffy picnic blanket, a string of warm fairy lights, a few battery-operated candles (because real candles in a dorm were a fire hazard), and, most importantly, all of Paige’s favorite snacks.

Then, you made a second stop at a bakery that you knew Paige loved. They had a special Valentine’s Day section, and you couldn’t resist grabbing a small heart-shaped cake with pink frosting that read, Be Mine? in white icing. It was cheesy, but you knew Paige would love it.

By the time you got back to her dorm, her roommate was nowhere to be found—perfect. You got to work, pushing the coffee table aside and setting up the picnic blanket in the middle of the floor. You arranged the fairy lights on the nightstand and around the window, their soft glow making the space feel warm and romantic. You placed the food neatly on the blanket, including the strawberries and Nutella because you knew Paige would devour them in minutes.

For the final touch, you pulled out a handwritten card you had made earlier. It wasn’t anything extravagant, just a simple message:

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my love. Since you couldn’t take me on a fancy date, I figured I’d bring the romance to you. Hope you’re ready for the best dorm-room picnic of your life. Love, your #1 fan.”

You set the card next to the cake and took a step back, admiring your work. It wasn’t some expensive five-star dinner, but it was filled with love, and that’s what mattered most.

It was past 9 PM when you finally heard the sound of keys jingling outside the door. You quickly sat down on the blanket, waiting with anticipation.

The door swung open, and in walked Paige, looking absolutely exhausted. She had her gym bag slung over one shoulder, her hoodie slightly oversized, and her damp hair from a quick shower falling messily around her face. She was clearly ready to collapse into bed—until she took in the sight in front of her.

Her tired eyes widened as she scanned the room, from the fairy lights casting a soft glow to the carefully arranged picnic in the middle of the floor.

“Babe…” she breathed, dropping her bag by the door. “What—what is all this?”

You smiled up at her. “Your Valentine’s Day date,” you said, motioning to the setup. “Since we couldn’t go out, I figured I’d bring the date to you.”

Paige just stood there, staring at you like you had just hung the moon. “You did all this… for me?”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “No, I did it for your roommate,” you teased, making her laugh softly.

She stepped forward, dropping to her knees on the blanket and cupping your face in her hands. “I don’t deserve you,” she murmured, her thumbs gently brushing against your cheeks.

“You really don’t,” you joked, earning another laugh before she leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.

Paige wasted no time making herself comfortable, pulling you into her lap and resting her chin on your shoulder as she eyed the food. “Are those strawberries and Nutella?”

You grinned. “Of course.”

“God, I love you.”

You laughed, reaching for a strawberry and dipping it into the Nutella before holding it up to her lips. She took a bite, humming in satisfaction. “Mmm. Best Valentine’s Day ever.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Even better than last year, when we actually got to go to that fancy restaurant?”

Paige nodded without hesitation, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Way better. This is perfect.”

For the next hour, you sat together, eating and talking about everything and nothing at all. Paige stole more than her fair share of strawberries, and you made her feed you a few in return. The heart-shaped cake was a huge hit—Paige insisted on taking pictures of it before cutting into it, and she made you share the first bite with her.

At one point, she stretched out on the blanket, pulling you down so you were lying on her chest, her fingers lazily tracing patterns on your back. The sound of soft music playing from your phone mixed with the occasional sound of Paige yawning as she relaxed against you.

“This might be my favorite Valentine’s Day ever,” she admitted, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple.

You smiled, your fingers gently playing with the hem of her hoodie. “Really?”

“Really.” She tilted her head to look at you, her blue eyes filled with so much love it made your heart ache. “You didn’t have to do all this, but you did. You always do the little things that make me feel special.”

You felt your cheeks warm. “Well, you are special.”

Paige grinned before leaning in, capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss. When she pulled back, she whispered, “I love you.”

Your heart swelled as you nuzzled closer to her. “I love you too.”

And in that moment, wrapped up in each other’s arms, surrounded by fairy lights and the warmth of your love, you knew that no matter how busy life got, as long as you had each other, every day would feel like Valentine’s Day.

[fictoweirdoesten]

@xavislighnluv asked:

"Hi! May I ask some fic about lads men reacting to MC crashout due to BPD splitting episode with hallucinations?"

Lads Men Reacting to MC Hallucinating During/After a BPD Splitting Episode ♡

general cw: gn! mc/reader. bpd episodes. splitting. hallucinations. miscommunications. swearing. angst but comfort/fluff later on.

Zayne cw: auditory hallucinations. s/h (scratching). (i cooked a little too hard with zayne mb)

Xavier cw: tactile hallucinations. maybe mischaracterization(?) xavier is oblivious. arguing. tara mention.

Rafayel cw: visual hallucinations. use of firearms.

Caleb cw: tactile hallucinations. lowkey toxic (they both have bpd leave them alone). arguing. threatening with evol.

Sylus cw: auditory and visual hallucinations. lowkey comedic because I couldn't come up with what to write for this guy. stalking. luke and kieran mention. mf mephisto.

a/n: I HOPE I'm not writing anything that's offensive or insensitive to those who suffer from hallucinations! (really wish I didn't split on my ex-fp who suffered from psychosis rn 😭). I did my best to research and to read people's experiences who went through hallucinations (specifically those who also have bpd). Thank you for the ask, I really appreciate it and I hope I didn't disappoint either :)

also this is not proofread im sorry ive written this the whole day and im very sleepy forgive me 🧎

Zayne kept canceling his plans with you.

Yes, he was a cardiac surgeon, so of course there were times when something came up or he was called in to work and couldn't make it.

But those days kept adding up.

“Sorry dear. I can't make it to our dinner tonight. Reschedule for another time?”

But all he's been doing nowadays is “rescheduling”. That fear of abandonment you loathed started rearing its ugly head. You tried painfully to ignore it, but you've learned by now that it never goes away, and it only gets worse with avoidance. You started isolating yourself from your colleagues. You cared less about your hygiene, too. “Why should I if he's not ever coming over,” you'd tell yourself, curling back into your bed as you hugged your knees, the feeling of inadequacy and self-doubt plaguing your thoughts as you struggled to go to sleep night after night now.

You couldn't take it anymore. You needed Zayne before you got worse.

Zayne woke up to his alarm going off. He grabbed his phone to turn it off, but then he glanced at the time and realized he overslept. He didn't have time to check his phone. Didn't have time to notice the 20 something walls of texts you sent him, or the missed calls he received from you late at night. Hours went by as he never responded to you, never even read your messages. It was a busy day at Akso Hospital again, and he barely had time to even eat lunch.

But to you, it was a sign of abandonment.

Was he tired of you now? Was he canceling his plans because of work, or was it just an excuse not to see you this entire time?

You stared at the texts you sent him for what seemed like an hour, waiting for a sign that he at least read your messages. But nothing. You sent him another text to see if he had blocked you, but the text went though.

Is he ghosting you?

You felt nauseous, throwing your phone who knows where and curling yourself into a ball once more. Why did he lie to you? Why did he tell you everything was fine if it wasn't?

Why were you like this? Why were you so unlovable that everyone you came close to eventually left you?

“Darling?” You jumped up, eyes scanning the room for Zayne…but he wasn't there. You tense up, chest heaving as you slowly lay back down.

“I love you.”

Tears start flowing down your cheeks at his voice, his sweet words. You were clearly hallucinating, but you couldn't help feeling emotional hearing “his” voice in the same room as you again. It's been so long.

“Zayne,” you called out to him, but you got no response from this voice of his, so you called out to it again, desperation etched in your voice this time, but still no response. You sobbed, squirming in your bed, face buried in your hands. After a while, the voice came back, but it was nastier.

“I don't love you.” It’d say, over and over again. You started to claw your nails at your face, letting out a whimper as your migraine became worse, the mental and physical pain almost unbearable to deal with anymore.

No one was there to help you, to rescue you.

—

Zayne hops out of his car, barely remembering to close and lock the door as he rushes to your apartment door, ignoring the confused and judgemental looks from people around him.

Guilt ate at him the moment he saw your texts, the missed calls. They were all cries for help. How did he not notice that you were hurting this entire time? Zayne was terrible at communication, but damnit, he tried. He loves you, and if loving you meant stepping out of his comfort zone, he would without any hesitation.

But even that wasn't enough.

He bangs at your front door, but you don't answer. Zayne curses under his breath, fumbling with his keys as his fingers tremble. He finally found your key and held it in his hand before moving to unlock your door. He swings the door open, eyes darting all over your living room for signs of you, but you weren't there.

He searches for you in the kitchen, the hallway bathroom, until he makes it to your room and swings the door open.

And there you were, curled up, unresponsive as you stared up at the ceiling, as if you didn't even notice he was in your apartment this entire time.

“Darling?”

You flinch at his voice, assuming that it was another one of your hallucinations again. But then he walks up to you cautiously and kneels down beside your bed. He's scared to touch you, assuming that you're dissociating. But the minute you turn over to look at him, he relaxes a bit, hand moving to your face as his thumb brushes over the fresh scars.

“You hate me,” you mutter, and he frowns at your words, his hazel eyes staring at you with a mix of concern and worry. He realizes soon after that you must be going through an episode. His thumb moves away from your scars and to your bottom lip, rubbing against it gently.

“And who told you that?”

“You.” His brow raises at your response, and his thumb pauses on your lips.

“Is it because I kept canceling our plans?”

“Not just that,” you mutter, and he leans in closer to you as he awaits your response. “Your voice. It kept telling me that you didn't love me anymore.”

“...My voice?” He questions, and for a while, he just stares at you. He never remembers telling you that. He's lost in thought as he ponders on what you meant, what you could be referring to, until an answer finally comes to him.

“My love…are you hallucinating?” He watches as you slowly nod. He lets out a sigh, moving further onto the bed, hovering over you, but not completely caging you in.

“I know you distrust me, and I understand. But I really have been busy for weeks now.” When you don't move away from him, or show signs of discomfort, he leans in, kissing your forehead before resting his own forehead against yours. “I know my words are useless, as I am sure many people have promised you things and never followed through. But I am not them. I love you dear, and I'll do anything to win your trust again.”

You don't respond, and he's fine with that. It was better than you pushing him away, telling him to leave or shouting at him. He slid away from you, sitting at the edge of the bed.

“If you want, I'll give you space. But I'll always be waiting for you.”

He stands up, ready to leave, but then you reach out and grab his hand. He looks back at you, but you don't look at him. Your eyes are bleak, your expression unreadable. His heart aches at the sight, but he's also happy that you stopped him from leaving. He lays down beside you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you against him. He buries his face into your hair, letting out a hum.

“Thank you.”

A new Hunter had joined UNICORNS. Chelsea, you think. At first, she was sweet, smiling at everyone she met with an optimistic attitude.

But then you started to notice how close she was getting to Xavier.

At first she'd giggle at every other sentence he said, even if nothing was funny. Then she got more bold, grazing her hand against his arm or slapping her hand lightly against his chest. It pissed you off, but what pissed you off a lot more was how nonchalant Xavier was about it. He didn't stop her from touching him. Didn't seem to set any boundaries, even if you were standing right beside him.

It was an automatic trigger for you.

You started distancing yourself from Xavier. You didn't sit with him for lunch. You didn't answer his texts as quickly as you once did, and you avoided his calls all together. Xavier noticed your change in behavior, but he didn't say anything to you about it. His seemingly disinterested behavior towards you pushing him away was the final straw. Once idealizing Xavier and viewing him as an absolute saint who would never wrong you, you suddenly viewed him as the total opposite. Someone who betrayed and lied to you, who used you and discarded you the moment someone else came into his life.

But to Xavier, that was absolutely not the case at all.

He was stressed out about your sudden distance from him, but he didn't know how to approach you about it. He felt awkward whenever he would bump into you during work, and how you would blatantly avoid him as if he wasn't there. He wanted to reach out and grab your arm, to ask you what was wrong and to never let go of you until you gave him an acceptable answer. He wanted to pull you into a hug and dispel whatever was troubling you.

Xavier decided to ask Tara about it one morning, so they met up and talked about it over coffee and pastries at the local Cafe.

“Weeell…they could be splitting,” Tara ponders as she sips her iced coffee, “Buut they aren't distant towards me, so maybe you triggered them somehow.”

Xavier stares at Tara blankly. What did he do to trigger you? He leans back against his seat, lost in thought as he tries to remember something that would've upset you the week before you started acting distant towards him.

Tara sighs, shaking her head as she rolls her eyes at Xavier. “Uhm, maybe the new Hunter would be a good place to start?” Xavier's eyes widen. He rests his chin on his palm, staring down at the table with a slight pout. “Really? I don't feel anything towards her though-”

“But you sure don't make that obvious,” Tara cuts in, and Xavier meets her fiery gaze once more. “Seriously! What kinda man lets some woman who he's ‘supposedly not into’ touch all over him?”

Xavier was an idiot. An oblivious, dumb idiot.

He was so disinterested in Chelsea that he didn't even notice her touches or giggles were flirtatious in any way. But how was he going to explain that to you without sounding like a complete asshole and a liar?

Xavier knocks on your door, a bouquet and chocolates in his hands as he waits for you to answer.

But all he gets is silence, with the occasional sound of a car passing by.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling through his nostrils. “Open the damn door. I know you're in there.” He didn't shout, but he did raise his voice, loud enough for you and the whole hallway to hear him. He continues banging at the door with his fists, not caring for the disturbance he's causing others. You swing the door open moments later, staring daggers at him. “May I come in,” he simply asks, extending his hands out to give you the bouquet and chocolates, but you refuse, standing right at the door with your arms crossed.

“What do you want, Xavier? ‘Surprised Chelsea isn't clinging to you right now-”

“Please? Can you just hear me out, Star?” Xavier pleads, his big doe eyes looking down at you that almost makes you pity him. Almost.

“Ya’ could've pleaded your case days ago, but instead you were too busy looking deep into her eyes instead of mine!” You begin to raise your own voice now, but yours was bordering on a shout. You felt hot, days of pent-up anger suddenly coming out all at once. Especially considering your emotional dysregulation? All hell was about to break loose, and Xavier prepares himself for it as he clenches his fists. “Leave, Xavier! I want nothing to do with lying scumbags!”

“Hey-!” But you were already beginning to shut the door in front of him. The bouquet and flowers he was holding dropped to the floor as he extended his hand out to stop the door from closing, leaning down until your face’s were inches apart from each other.

“Don't shut me out.”

His voice was low and hoarse, almost like a growl. His blue eyes stare deep into your own eyes. Waiting. But you just stare at him, face red with anger, hands trembling as tears start to flow down your cheeks. He relaxes, frowning at your frustration.

“Star, I wasn't into her, I never was.” He picks up the stuff he dropped on the floor, turning back to you. He nudges his way beside you, and you don't stop him, but you don't turn around either. He places your gifts on the coffee table before walking over to you and taking your hand into his and moving you away from the door.

“Listen to me, please?” You don't say anything, don't even look at him. You stare at nothing. He starts to worry, his hands moving to your shoulders after he closes the door behind you, an attempt at grounding you. “A-Are you okay?”

As soon as he asks that, you shake, stepping away from him and clawing at your skin as you grimace. “What's wrong,” he asks, stepping closer to you cautiously. You shake your head, but the scratching doesn't stop. He hugs you tightly, his arms wrapping around your back, preventing you from scratching your skin further.

“Crawling. Something's crawling all over me, Xavier. It won't go away.”

He nods, his hands rubbing all over your back, trying his best to soothe you. “I'm…I'm so sorry. I'm such an idiot. I should have never let her get close to me like that.” You feel something wet on your neck, and you assume that what you're feeling is a part of the hallucinations you're currently experiencing. But then you hear Xavier sniff, his face nuzzling into your neck as he lets out a quiet whimper. “I'll only love you. No one else could ever steal my heart like you have. My light, please don't leave me.”

You start to feel the crawling sensation ease up as time passes by. He slightly pulls away from you, his eyes red and glistening from his tears as he checks to make sure you're okay.

“Is the crawling gone…?” You nod, and he smiles, taking your hand into his once more as he pulls you towards the bedroom as he lets out a yawn.

“Mmmh, tired. Time to go to sleep now.”

And well, you didn't know if you could truly forgive him right away, but you were tired as well, so you relented, allowing him to walk you to the bedroom.

You weren't answering your phone.

Texts, calls, even emails, you didn't respond to any of them. He figured you were going through another splitting episode again, so he decided to distract himself with his painting as he waited for you to return to him like you always would.

But it's been two days now, and you still never reached out to him.

He was already anxious about your absence, but now he was concerned too. He wasn't going to sit around and wait for you to come to him, so he came to you, not even bothering to knock on your door as he let himself in with the key you gave him to your apartment.

“Cuuutie?” He calls out, walking inside and looking around for you. He hears the sound of a gun cocking, and he freezes, eyes widen as he glances over to find you aiming at him.

“Duck!” And he does just that. He hears you shoot, and as you do that he brings out his daggers, turning around and-

There's nothing there.

He turns back to you, and notices your chest heaving as you stare at something on the wall. It's a good thing the walls are thick, or else you would've shot at something that was real.

“Hey, what are you-”

“Why won't this Wanderer just die!” You scream, arms shaking as they soon grow tired. Rafayel reaches out and tilts the head of the gun down before removing it from your hands entirely. “There's no Wanderer in here, Cutie.”

You blink at him, confused. This Wanderer has been troubling you ever since your episode began, and it drove you crazy. Is that why your Hunter's Watch never warned you?

“So how…?”

“You still got that canvas and paint set I gave you,” he asks as he sets the gun down on the coffee table. You nod, pointing at the direction of the easel outside on your balcony.

He brings everything inside. The easel, the canvas, and the set of paint and brushes. He sets everything up for you, sitting the chair in front of the easel before gesturing for you to sit down.

“Why not paint what you're seeing? It'll help me understand more.” So you do, and he watches intently, his expression becoming more and more disturbed as he sees the hallucination on the canvas that's been bothering you. It doesn't look like a Wanderer at all, or at least anything he's ever seen. Fully black from head to toe, tall, lanky, and with no facial features at all. The only thing that gives it away is the red dot in the middle of its chest, which Rafayel assumes is supposed to be its protocore.

“My poor bodyguard,” Rafayel kisses your temple, one of his hands resting on the side of your face. He peppers you with kisses, making up for the last three days he couldn't see you. “Has this thing really been bothering you this whole time? And I didn't know about it?” You nod, turning your face so that you bury yourself into his neck. “It's towering over us,” you whisper, trembling slightly. He hums, picking you up and carrying you over to the couch. He sits you on top of his lap, one of his hands moving to the back of your head, burying your head in his chest as he rocks you.

“It's okay. No stupid looking monster's gonna hurt my partner. I'll protect you.”

The two of you stay cuddled up until the hallucination finally goes away, and the rest of the day is spent making up for lost time.

The two of you had gotten into a pretty nasty argument earlier while you were in the middle of a splitting episode…

“You don't give a single shit about me!” You shouted, grabbing your essentials and stomping to the front door. “I ask that you at least text me everyday before work and apparently that's too much for you, Colonel! Just say you hate me!”

“Don't let me use my evol, pipsqueak!” He shouted back, walking just as fast as you were with less effort due to how tall he was compared to you. He catched up to you just as your hand reached for the doorknob, his own hand moving on top of yours, stopping you from leaving. “Just fuckin’ listen to me, please!”

You turned around to face him, staring daggers at him as he let out a sigh. “I couldn't message you those past three days because they suddenly assigned me to work in Deepspace.” He eyed the conflicted expression on your face, the glint of guilt in your eyes. He lowered his voice, shoulders relaxing as he rested his hands on your shoulders. “I don't blame you for reacting like this, for getting upset. I'm sorry that I left you alone like that, but damnit, it irritated me as well, okay?” He watched as you reluctantly nodded, dropping the bag that you were carrying on the floor before moving your head to rest on his chest. He smiles, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you closer to him.

“Let's get some sleep.”

But you couldn't sleep, not when you suddenly felt a pricking sensation on your legs, like a thousand needles picking at your skin. You were squirming, letting out a groan that woke Caleb up immediately.

“Hey Hey, what's wrong pips?” He asks, and you whimper in response, discomfort ridden on your face. He knew what was wrong the second he saw the look on your face. His hands move to your thighs, caressing them gently like he did when you were kids. “Hallucinations again?” You nod, and he hums in response. “Well, you're a little too old for me to read you to sleep now, unless-” You pinch his cheek, and he chuckles, leaning closer to press a kiss to your nose as he lets out an exhale. “Alright Alright, I'll stop teasin’ ya.”

The two of you lay beside each other, watching a movie to distract you from the sensation at your legs. He never stopped his messaging, but it was slower now, almost idle.

“Hey, for breakfast, should I cook-”

He pauses when he glances over and notices that you were asleep, drool escaping your lips and onto his shoulder that you were resting your head on. He didn't mind, in fact he found it adorable, pulling up the camera app on his phone and taking a picture of your sleepy state.

“Night baby,” he whispers, and he closes his own eyes, dozing off a few minutes later.

“Boss man, we-” “-Have no idea where they went off to!”

Sylus groans, dismissing Luke and Kieran with a flick of his wrist.

He was starting to get annoyed at your sudden absence.

You weren't in your apartment, Mephisto made sure of it, and now the twins can't find you either. But Sylus would find you eventually, that was certain.

He just didn't expect to find you so soon, and willingly, either.

You stand at his front door, staring up at him with a blank look in your eyes, reminiscent of the look you'd often give him when the two of you first met.

He swallows whatever guilt it was threatening to rise up his throat.

“Kitten? Where were y-”

“I need to get my stuff.” You nudge past him, walking towards the stairs. He walks behind you, eyeing your form and the way you avoid looking at him as you walk up the steps.

“Did I upset you somehow?” He asks, that nonchalant tone in his voice that grinds your gears. Your grip tightens on the railing of the stairs as you continue to walk, deciding not to say anything to avoid you lashing out at him.

He doesn't say anything else to you, but he still follows you.

You walk into his room, searching around for something with an irritated look on your face. You were growing impatient, and the tall man staring at you from across the room didn't help either.

“Mephisto didn't see you at your apartment today.”

“Oh, so you're admitting to stalking me huh?” There was an edge to your voice as you continue to look around the room, beads of sweat falling down your face as you felt your anger quickly rising.

“Stalker? Funny coming from the Borderline that stalked me.”

You freeze at his words. Sylus smirks, approaching you slowly as his index finger taps just below his temple.

“You were at the auction, weren't you sweetie?”

You don't respond, and you don't have to. He towers over you now, crimson eyes staring down at you, but you refuse to look at him.

“Turn around,” he commands, but you don't listen. He scoffs at your rebellious attitude, but he's had enough of your games now. He kneels, finding your wrist and turning you around to face him fully. He lets go of your wrist and uses that hand to grip your jaw, tilting your head up and forcing you to look at him.

“That woman that you saw with me was just a client. I didn't allow her to get too close, just close enough to convince her to trust me.”

You stare at him, your anger slowly dissipating at his explanation. You part your lips to say something, but then a figure appears behind Sylus. It's distorted, barely even has a shape as it stares back at you with a creepy grin on its face.

“He's lying.”

Sylus notices that your gaze is suddenly elsewhere, and he turns back to see what you're looking at. But there's nothing there.

“What are you looking at…?”

“My hallucination. It says you're lying to me.”

Sylus turns back around to face you, his expression a mix of shock and worry. Were you joking around with him? But you look serious, staring at him deadpan.

“How can I convince it to trust me then?”

He watches you shrug.

“What's it saying right now?”

You look beside him once more, before turning back to him.

“It's telling me to kill you.”

Sylus stares at you with an unreadable look on his face. Scared of his life, assumingly. You try your best to stifle a laugh as you stand and make your way over to the door, stopping at the door frame before turning around with a smile.

“Just kidding. My hallucinations only last for a few seconds. It told me to kill you earlier today, though.”

Sylus watches as you walk away. You were serious, that was certain, but he was happy to hear you banter with him once more.

“Luke, Kieran.”

They zoom into his room, almost tripping themselves as they halt in front of him.

“Yes boss,” they say in unison.

“Research what hallucinations are…and how to deal with someone who has them.”

“Yes…boss,” they say in unison.

[lila-lou]

✨Folded✨

Summary: Your first time with Ben lands you in the ER and in the middle of his chaotic, possessive version of love.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Language, kinda fluffy, kinda funny

Word Count: 2721

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💙

The harsh fluorescent lights of the emergency room buzzed above you, a headache forming right behind your eyes. You shifted uncomfortably in the hard plastic chair, wincing as the movement sent a sharp reminder through your body of exactly why you were there. Ben sat slouched next to you, arms crossed over his chest, radiating pure impatience like a human space heater.

"You’re fine", he muttered, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. "You’re just… delicate or something".

You shot him a look so sharp it could've cut through the damn walls. "Oh, I’m delicate now? You just threw me halfway across the bed like a goddamn frisbee".

He smirked, and you wanted to both kiss him and punch him at the same time. "Yeah, well, maybe you should’ve braced yourself better", he said, shrugging like he hadn’t nearly snapped you in half an hour ago.

"You’re unbelievable", you said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe next time you should come with a warning label: Caution — may cause serious bodily harm during sex".

Ben leaned his head back against the wall, letting out a low laugh. "Please. You loved it".

You gave him a deadpan stare. "Loved the part where you folded me like a lawn chair? Sure. Best moment of my life".

Despite everything, the pain, the embarrassment, the fact that you were sitting in a hospital gown with an ice pack pressed against your ribs, you felt your mouth twitching into a smile. Ben caught it immediately, his own grin growing wider, the cocky bastard.

He leaned closer, his voice dropping just enough to make your stomach flip, injury and all. "You’re tough. You’ll survive. And when you do…", he paused, smirking again, "you’re gonna be begging for round two".

You scoffed, elbowing him lightly, careful this time not to hurt yourself further. "In your dreams, Soldier Boy".

"Every night, sweetheart", he said without missing a beat, reaching out to squeeze your hand with a surprising gentleness that made your heart stutter, even now.

The nurse finally called your name, and as you stood up, wincing again, Ben stood too, towering over you, close enough that you felt the warmth rolling off him. Despite all his bravado, he stayed glued to your side, steadying you without saying a word.

Maybe he wasn’t great at apologies, hell, maybe he barely knew the word existed, but right now, you figured actions spoke louder anyway.

The exam room was colder than the waiting area, and the thin paper on the exam table crinkled loudly as you tried to settle onto it without grimacing too obviously. Ben stood nearby, arms folded, looking like he owned the damn place despite the fact that he was clearly the problem.

The door swung open with a soft knock, and a tired-looking doctor, mid-forties, glasses, no patience left, stepped in, glancing between the two of you and your chart.

"Alright", he said, glancing down at the clipboard. "Looks like you’ve got some bruised ribs, maybe a minor strain. We’ll get a scan just in case. Can you tell me how this happened?".

You opened your mouth, you really did, but Ben beat you to it, his voice loud, confident, and absolutely unapologetic. "Yeah, so we were fucking", he said bluntly.

You felt your soul leave your body.

Ben kept going, completely ignoring the way you shot him a wide-eyed look of horror. "I mean, she was on top at first, right? But then she said she wanted me to take control, and I thought, ‘Hey, no problem, I’m great at that’, so I flipped her over. Maybe a little too hard… she kinda bounced—".

"Ben", you hissed, trying to stop him, mortified.

He waved you off, like you were interrupting the most important TED Talk ever. "—then, you know, I was giving it to her good", he continued, nodding proudly, "and I guess I got a little too into it. She sort of folded in half like one of those camping chairs. Heard a little pop. Not a sexy one, like an actual pop".

The doctor blinked at him, utterly deadpan.

You covered your face with your hands. "Please kill me", you muttered into your palms.

Ben, undeterred, barreled right through the awkward silence. "Anyway, she finished, I finished, it was great. Five stars. But then she couldn’t really move after, so here we are".

The doctor cleared his throat loudly, scribbling something on your chart, probably 'Patient dating an idiot, but in love with him'.

"Right", the doctor said, voice carefully neutral. "Well, thank you for the… thorough explanation. We’ll get those scans done. In the meantime, maybe consider… pacing yourselves".

You groaned loudly, letting your head fall back against the wall with a dull thunk.

As soon as the doctor left the room, Ben turned to you, still looking ridiculously pleased with himself. "What?", he said, smirking. "You want me to lie? I’m not ashamed of blowing your back out".

You glared at him, cheeks burning hotter than a furnace. "Next time you get me hospitalized", you snapped, "you’re paying for dinner and flowers".

Ben laughed, reaching out to gently brush your hair behind your ear. "Done. That pussy is worth it".

A few minutes later, after some paperwork shuffling and an excruciatingly awkward wait, a younger doctor stepped in, not the same one as before. This guy couldn’t have been more than thirty, clean-shaven, fresh out of med school, and way too friendly for Ben’s liking.

He glanced at the clipboard, then smiled at you.

“Alright, Y/N”, he said brightly. “We’re gonna need to do a quick physical check, make sure nothing else is damaged. I’m gonna have you slip out of the gown so I can take a look at your back and sides, okay?”.

You nodded, already reaching to undo the ties at the back of the thin hospital gown. Standard, right? No big deal. Until you heard a low growl behind you.

Ben straightened up from where he was leaning against the wall, his whole posture shifting, shoulders squared, chest puffed out. Every part of him suddenly screamed territorial caveman. “She’s not gettin’ fucking naked for you”.

The young doctor blinked, taken off guard. “Sir, it’s medical. I’m a professional”.

Ben stepped forward, looming way too close for hospital etiquette. “Don’t care if you’ve got ten degrees and a stethoscope made of fucking gold. Find another way”.

You sighed heavily, shooting Ben a glare over your shoulder. “Ben. It’s fine”.

He ignored you completely, never breaking eye contact with the poor doctor, who now looked like he was reconsidering every life choice that led him to this moment.

The doctor cleared his throat awkwardly, clearly debating whether arguing with a super-powered, pissed-off Soldier Boy was worth his medical license. Wisely, he chose the path of least resistance. “Alright”, he said carefully, backing up a step. “Maybe you can help her adjust the gown so I can check without… full exposure”.

“Yeah”, Ben said, flashing a grin that was all teeth. “Thought so”.

Muttering under your breath, you let Ben come over, his large hands surprisingly gentle as he helped untie the gown just enough to expose the parts the doctor needed to see.

The examination was quick — a few pokes, some prodding, the doctor muttering notes — but Ben never moved from your side, hovering protectively, eyes sharp and watchful.

When it was finally over and the doctor left, Ben immediately retied the gown, his fingers brushing your skin with careful touches that made your heart race for an entirely different reason.

“You’re insane”, you said, half laughing, half exasperated as you turned to face him.

He shrugged, completely unapologetic. “Maybe. But no one gets to look at you but me”.

You shook your head, pretending to be more annoyed than you actually were. “Possessive much?”.

Ben leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he murmured, “You love it”. And the worst part was, you did.

You didn’t even make it halfway off the exam table before the nurse came back with the final report, a sympathetic wince on her face.

“Looks like you’ve got four sprained ribs”, she said, handing you a packet of instructions you weren’t about to read. “You’re gonna be sore for a while. Bruising’s already setting in… lot of internal swelling. Ice it, rest, no heavy lifting, and definitely no… strenuous activities”.

Her eyes flicked awkwardly to Ben, who was standing there looking like a kicked puppy and a thunderstorm rolled into one. “Yeah, yeah, we get it”, Ben muttered as the nurse left the room.

You pulled the gown tighter around yourself, trying to breathe through the ache that flared in your chest every time you moved.

Ben scowled down at you, raking a hand through his hair in frustration. “Sprained ribs”, he grumbled under his breath. “Geez. I was aiming for you to feel me somewhere else, sweetheart. Not in your goddamn ribcage”.

You gave him a look, deadpan. “Trust me. I do”.

Ben’s mouth opened, probably to fire back something cocky, but he paused, really looked at you, taking in the way you winced even shifting your weight. Some of the swagger bled out of him then, replaced by something quieter, heavier. Guilt, sharp and obvious even under his usual bravado.

“You should’ve told me”, he muttered, softer now. “If it hurt”.

You snorted lightly, regretting it immediately when it made your ribs throb. “Ben. At the time, I couldn’t tell if I was dying or just having a spiritual experience”.

He cracked a reluctant, crooked grin at that, the edge of it tinged with worry. “Yeah?”, he said, stepping closer, his voice low and rough. “That good, huh?”.

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips anyway. “You broke four of my ribs, genius. Congratulations. New personal record”.

Ben chuckled under his breath and reached out, his massive hands careful as he cupped your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks like you were made of glass. “I’ll do better next time”, he murmured, something fiercely earnest in his tone. “Promise”.

You leaned back slightly, giving him a teasing smirk despite the dull, throbbing pain in your chest. “No next time”, you said lightly, your voice a little raspy from the effort. “You’re officially on a sex ban until further notice”.

Ben’s eyebrows shot up like you’d slapped him. “A what now?”, he barked, genuinely offended, like you’d just told him Christmas was canceled.

You chuckled under your breath, hissing slightly as it pulled at your ribs, and tried to wave him off. “Doctor’s orders”, you said, smug. “I’m fragile, remember?”.

Ben muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “Bullshit”, but he didn’t argue, not really. Instead, he shook his head, grumbling as he grabbed your clothes from the chair and crouched down in front of you.

You gave him a withering look, but he was already helping you, his hands surprisingly deft as he started easing you back into your clothes. Every touch was gentle, careful in a way that made your heart ache worse than your ribs.

He tugged your top down carefully over your shoulders, frowning in concentration like he was disarming a bomb, muttering under his breath the whole time.

“This is bullshit. You’re tougher than half the assholes I fought in World War II”, he grumbled. “Sprained ribs my ass”.

You couldn’t help yourself, you grinned through the ache. “Oh, I’m sorry. Should I sprain a few of your ribs next time? See how you like it?”.

Ben snorted, brushing your hair out from under your collar with a tenderness that made your chest tight for an entirely different reason. “You couldn’t hurt me, even if you tried”, he said, flashing you that cocky smirk, the one that made you want to punch him and kiss him all at once.

You narrowed your eyes. “Wanna bet?”.

He let out a low laugh, then leaned down, his forehead bumping gently against yours. For a second, he just stayed there, breathing you in, grounding both of you in the middle of the sterile hospital chaos. “Nah”, he murmured. “You’re dangerous enough already, doll”.

About an hour later, you were sprawled out carefully on Ben’s leather couch, one of his shirts hanging off your body, way too big, way too soft, and an ice pack balanced awkwardly against your bruised ribs.

You sighed, shifting slightly to get comfortable, wincing at the dull, deep ache that pulsed with every movement. The apartment smelled like whiskey, leather, and Ben, a scent so familiar and stupidly comforting that you almost forgot how much you hated being injured in the first place. Almost.

Footsteps echoed from the kitchen, heavy and sure, and then Ben appeared, a glass of whiskey clutched in one hand and a determined look on his face like he was about to win a war. “Here”, he said, handing the glass over with a kind of gentleness that would’ve shocked anyone who didn’t know him better.

You raised an eyebrow as you accepted it, feeling the cool glass against your fingers. “Pretty sure alcohol isn’t in the medical pamphlet, Nurse Ben”.

He snorted, dropping heavily into the armchair across from you, legs spread wide, one arm slung lazily over the backrest. “Yeah, well, they also said no ‘strenuous activity’, and we both know that’s bullshit too”.

You gave him a look, taking a slow sip of the whiskey — it burned down your throat, warm and sharp, but it did take the edge off the pain a little.

Ben watched you the whole time, gaze sharp and calculating. Protective. Like he was mentally trying to will your ribs back together just by glaring hard enough.

You settled back against the couch with a soft groan, cradling the ice pack against your side. “You know you don’t have to babysit me”, you mumbled, closing your eyes for a second.

There was a beat of silence. Then the couch dipped under his weight as Ben got up and sat right beside you, his knee brushing yours, his presence so big and solid it made you feel safer instantly. “You’re outta your fucking mind if you think I’m leavin’ you alone like this”, he said gruffly, voice low. “You’re hurt ‘cause of me. I’m not goin’ anywhere”.

You peeked up at him through your lashes, warmth curling low in your chest, unrelated to the whiskey this time.

He caught you looking and smirked, reaching out to tug at the hem of his shirt hanging on you. “Looks good on you”, he muttered, almost like he didn’t mean for you to hear it.

You shook your head, smiling tiredly. “Sap”.

Ben let out a soft chuckle, one hand still idly tugging at the oversized shirt you were wearing like he couldn’t help himself. "Shut up", he teased, flashing you a boyish smirk that would've been disarming if he weren't such a giant menace most of the time. "You like it. Don’t pretend you don’t".

You snorted, trying not to jostle your ribs. "Yeah, I just love being broken and babied".

He shrugged unapologetically. "You should. Not everyone gets the honor of my excellent bedside manner, sweetheart".

Ben watched you for a second longer, then stood with a grunt, cracking his knuckles. "Stay there", he ordered unnecessarily. "Gonna make you somethin’ to eat".

You stared after him, amused and vaguely terrified. "Ben, you can’t cook".

"Can't be that hard", he shot over his shoulder as he stomped toward the kitchen like he was going to war.

You snickered, nestling deeper into the couch, ice pack balanced carefully, already mentally preparing yourself for whatever culinary disaster he was about to create in the name of taking care of you. Because, well… it was Ben. And even when he was a complete disaster, he was still yours.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 

-

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @pughsexual @berryblues46 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @kr804573 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @barnes70stark @roseblue373 @shanimallina87 @ascarriel @deanwinchesters67impala @thebiggerbear @quietgirll75 @barnes70stark @kellyls04 @spxideyver @ralilda @americanvenom13 @ozwriterchick @lmg14

[4chensungs]

pls pls pls can you write something about sucking jisung off………… i love you <3

nsfw. +18. oral (m rec.)

you were so tired of waiting for your boyfriend to come home; the insane amount of things you did today while he was at the company since early in the morning.

you cleaned your shared room and your shared closet, spent solid two hours online shopping. jisung wasn't much different, he kept fighting the urge to not message you "i miss you" every 5 minutes, or else he'd get in trouble.

your eyes were closing involuntarily while you were under the warm blankets of your bed, and although you promised him that you would wait for him, it was already so late.

when you heard the sound of keys fumbling from afar you knew it was him, and you mentally thanked God for not getting asleep before the time he got home.

you ran out of the bedroom, smiling when you were met with jisung's figure from across the room, arms wide open for you.

you practically jumped in his embrace as his hands made their way under your thighs, being secure while carrying you.

"hi baby, oh my god." he leaned away from the hug to peck your lips, smiling. "i tried my best to leave early but we had tons of meetings and they wanted us to practice more for the next-"

you cut him off by kissing him again, fingers getting lost in the dark hair locks on his nape. jisung smiled between the kiss, walking further away the room with you still in his arms.

when his lips left yours to catch his breath, his eyes scanned over your body. just noticing that you were wearing his all time favorite lace night gown of yours. 

you grabbed his jaw to push his head up, pecking his lips again and again. "at least try to hide your stare, ji.”

jisung clicked his tongue, a blush painting his cheeks. making his and your way to your shared bedroom, "you're cute, princess. can't hold myself when you wear that."

"i know." you smiled again, still massaging his hair. "how was practice?"

"nice, but i got yelled at a million times. couldn't focus when all i was thinking about was you." he said before kissing your cheek.

you laughed and playfully slapped his arm, leaning to hug him again with your face deep buried in his chest.

jisung squeezed your thigh, "get on the bed for me while i take a bath, princess. i'll be fast."

you jumped off his body with a pout painting your lips, not wanting to stay a minute more without his presence and his touch.

you almost choked when your boyfriend got out of the bathroom, his hair a bit wet and his usual sleep attire being today’s choice. grey sweatpants and a black shirt.

it was humiliating to see the way your legs started to press together in the exact moment he appeared. fuck.

jisung joined you on the bed, both of you smirking as you got up slightly to hover over him, “oh hi there.”

“hey, gorgeous.” his hands flew to your hips, messing with the flimsy fabric of the lace covering your body.

you kissed his lips, his tongue entering your mouth in a hot minute, the heat of the kiss making you more in need than you’ve ever been.

“can i suck you off, ji?” you mumbled in between, desperation being heard through your voice. “help you relax.”

jisung couldn’t hold back a smile when you asked him that so nicely. puppy eyes looking up at his own, fuck, you made him crazy.

“get to work.”

you smiled sheepishly, letting your hands slide all over his body, crawling back to the edge of the bed.

jisung made space for you between his legs, caressing your hair while you helped him take off his sweats, being met with the hard erection on his boxers.

your hand teasingly cupped his cock through his boxers, and you let out a chuckle when his reaction was exactly what you were craving for.

“cmon, baby. don’t tease.” jisung’s deep whiny voice echoed in your ear.

he raised his hips and you lowered the fabric just enough for his hard cock to slip out, the pink tip shining with his pre cum.

“suck.”

you french kissed his tip while pumping the base with both hands. no matter how many times you suck him off or he fucks you, you’d never get used to his big size. jisung was huge.

when you started sinking your mouth slowly at first, but then sinking deeper to accommodate his whole cock in your mouth, jisung cursed loudly, groaned loudly.

“fuck fuck fuck.. yeah do it just like that.” the scene being seen through your eyes was truly amazing. your boyfriend with his head thrown back, mouth wide agape while panting. big veiny hands gripping your hair in a ponytail.

saliva pooled in the corner of your mouth as you tried to suck him whole. the musky and masculine scent intoxicating your senses.

jisung kept on cursing and mumbling, “good.. princess doing so fucking good.”

one of your hands caressed his balls while the other tried to grab his entire base. cheeks hollowing with his girthy warm cock inside your mouth.

“it’s s-so big, ji.” you cried, pulling back with a string of saliva connected to his dick, tears gathered in the corner of your eyes.

jisung’s thumb touched your lips and cheeks, loving the way you’re absolutely fucked out just from sucking him off.

“i know, baby. but i also know you can take it, hm?” you looked up at him again when he tapped your lips with his tip.

you went back to business, breathing through your nose when you sucked all of him.

“you’re so beautiful.” he spat, his eyes never leaving your figure.

you felt his thighs start to tremble not much time after, “ i’m close, love. get up.” jisung softly said, groaning again when your wet mouth left his needy cock.

his cock was all wet with your spit, drooling with pre cum. he helped you crawl back again to the bed, grabbing your waist and pulling you closer, “let me finish inside you.”

thank you for the request !!!! <3

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Perfect Life || CL16 {1}

Summary: On the outside it appeared you had the perfect life but Charles didn't know the secrets that had been kept from him. In order for him to succeed deals were made with your family and no price was too much to pay. Warnings: nsfw, swearing, fighting, mentions of character death, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, horrible parents, Arthur Leclerc being the best friend ever WC: 2.5k

One || Two || Three

“What have you got yourself into now?”

There was no simple answer to that question and it was the very reason you had specifically not called the man waiting for an answer in the corridor. You dragged your eyes away from the chipped grey walls of the cell and stopped reading the tagging that littered the bricks - you didn’t really care that P & H were 2getha 4eva - and sat up from the concrete bed you had attempted to sleep on. 

Stretching your tired muscles, you ignored his question and asked one of your own. “What are you doing here, Charles?”

“Arthur called.” Charles grabbed the bars that separated you, his knuckles turning white as he scanned the other vagrants you had been locked in with. “Did you have to get him involved?”

“What makes you think it was my idea?” It was your idea, but it was rude of him to assume so. 

“My brother wouldn’t know how to find an underground fight club, let alone join one.”

“Maybe you don’t know your brother as well as you think.”

“Maybe, but I know you.” He looked at your cheeks that were still shiny from the Vaseline that helped the blows glance off, then he looked at your busted knuckles that not even tape could stop from splitting. “Why?”

You shrugged, but it tweaked your shoulder that had taken quite the punch and you winced at the spike of pain. “For a bit of fun, let off some steam.”

“Yeah, you look like you are really enjoying yourself,” he muttered sarcastically before walking away.

“Wait, Charles, where are you going?”

“Home, it’s late and Arthur is waiting in the car.”

“You’re just going to leave me here?”

“You didn’t call me,” he stated coldly. “Bail yourself out this time.”

Your clenched fist hit the metal bar and he briefly paused as the ringing sound followed him down the hall. “Dammit, Charles. Please?”

He continued walking away and you dropped back onto the hard slab of concrete wondering why you bothered. Charles never cared for you and the friendship you had with his younger brother, in fact merely breathing around him seemed to be an offence. It had been that way ever since your family sponsored his career, it was like he resented you for your family’s money. 

“Y/L/N,” a burly bailiff called out, interrupting your ranting inner monologue. “You’ve been posted.” 

A frown pinched your brows together as the door opened and you saw Charles standing in the shadows behind the officer. “Now would be the time for a thank you,” he muttered. 

You were tempted to throw a ‘fuck off’ his way but bit your tongue and accepted the thick hoodie he had draped over his arm. While the sex workers you had shared a cell with wore just as little clothing, yours was for an entirely different reason. The sports bra and bike shorts were perfect for fighting in but left you cold in the early hours of the morning, so you quickly pulled the hoodie over your body. “Thank you. I’ll pay you back.”

“I don’t want your money,” he sighed, rubbing his temple and leaving you with the impression that you were the headache he had.

“That’s not what you said to my father 10 years ago.”

“Is it too late to lock her back up?”

The bailiff looked awkwardly between the two of you and if you were in Monaco the officer would have probably marched you back to the cell, but Charles was in Nice now, he was in your city. 

You quickly signed the release form for your belongings and slipped the family signet ring back onto your finger before turning your phone on. A flood of messages from your father, his assistant and his lawyer, appeared in the flurry of vibrations that made Charles scoff and shake his head. “Worried about his little princess, huh?”

It was your turn to scoff. If only he knew how utterly wrong he was, but you weren’t one to air the dirty laundry of your family - even if it would shut the pretentious twat up for one minute. “Same time next week, boys,” you said with a nod to the officers behind the Perspex wall. 

“You’re seriously messed up,” Charles commented as he followed your quick descent down the front steps and aimed for the dark blue Porsche. 

“Keep sweet talking, you flirt,” you shot back sarcastically. “I thought you had a girlfriend.” 

Arthur had opened his door the moment he spotted you and he knew from the pained look on his brother’s face, and the smile on yours, that the interaction had gone as well as expected. He couldn’t understand why two people he loved dearly had to fight like cats and dogs every time they were in the same room. He had tried to get you to talk to Charles, to tell him the truth about your situation, but it had been hard enough talking to Arthur about it and you trusted him with your life. You weren’t going to go through that again for someone that would be more likely to spit in your face. 

“How’s your nose?” Arthur asked as he gently cupped your face and inspected it.

“Relax, I already reset it.” You took comfort in the warmth of his palms but the fuzzy feeling that came with knowing someone in the world cared about your wellbeing was gone in an instant.

“Daddy can always buy you a new one.”

“Charles!”

“Forget about it, Tur,” you murmured as you stepped back and started to make your way home on foot. “Text me when you get home safe.”

“If you care about him you will leave him alone,” Charles called out as he opened the driver's door. “You’re just going to drag him down with you.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Arthur growled at his brother before he started to follow you down the street. “Wait, please.”

“You should listen to your brother,” you said over your shoulder. “I’m a sinking ship.”

Arthur’s footsteps quickened as he jogged to your side and pulled you to a stop. “You’re not a sinking ship, but if you are then I will be your lifeboat.”

“That’s stupid analogy,” you scoffed as he pulled you into his arms. “I’m sorry I got you arrested.”

“I could have run when they raided but what kind of best friend would that make me?”

“One with a clean record,” you pointed out, feeling his chest bounce with a silent laugh.

“It’s overrated. I’m thinking about getting a tattoo now, one to remember my incarceration by. Maybe a tear, just here,” he said as he touched his cheek. “Think it would make me look cool.”

You rolled your eyes and laughed. “Oh yeah, the ladies would love that.”

“Please don’t give my brother any more bad ideas,” Charles muttered as he rolled by slowly in his car with the window down. “Get in, both of you.”

Arthur opened the door and pulled you down with him, tugging you into place on his lap before you could escape. He wasn’t going to let you walk home at 3am, no matter how safe Nice was, but it was annoying that his brother only bought a two seater sports car when he knew that the two of you had been arrested. 

You guided Charles away from the waterfront mansions and into the industrial area that was abandoned at the late hour. Arthur had been to your place plenty of times but it was a first for Charles to see the concrete building with a chipped tile roof at the end of the rundown street.

“What are we doing here?” Charles asked as he parked in front of a rusted metal door.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said, kissing Arthur’s cheek before opening the door. 

“What is this place?” Charles asked again as he followed you out, frowning at the key to the door you found under a shattered pot plant.

“I can’t exactly go home like this, can I? Genius.”

Arthur’s door shut as he got out to referee the second round of verbal sparring for the evening.  

“I’m surprised they even let you home after the crap you put them through.”

“Yeah, well, I'm still useful to them so they can’t get rid of me yet. Trust me, I’ve tried.”

“It must be so hard living your perfect little life,” Charles drawled sarcastically and Arthur inhaled sharply at the insult.

“You think my life is perfect?” You laughed bitterly and Arthur looked down at his feet. “Do you know why I fight in that shitty underground cage? The only freedom I have is when I get in that ring. It is the only choice I get to make for myself. For five minutes, I am in control of my own life, Charles, I get to fight for myself.”

“In control? You have always done and gotten everything you wanted,” he argued. “You wanted a pony, you got a fucking pony.”

Your vision narrowed as anger exploded in your chest. “There was a price, you fucking idiot! I am paying that price now. You don’t know what it’s like to have your entire life planned out for you, to find out those gifts came with terms and conditions, so do me a favour and shut the fuck up for once in your life please.”

Charles took a step closer but Arthur placed himself between you, his palms pushing his brother back as your breath quickened to uncontrollable pants. “You don’t understand, just let it go.”

“Damn right I don’t understand. I don’t understand why you listen to her bullshit, Tur. Jules couldn’t stand to be in the same room as her, and I can’t either.”

The whomping of blood rushing around your head echoed in your ears as time slowed and Arthur’s arm pulled back. You watched him close his fist like you had taught him, keeping his thumb on the outside to avoid breaking it. You watched the veins on his hand grow thicker as he threw the punch at his own brother and the shock barely registered before Charles fell down on his ass.

“Jules couldn’t be in the same room with her because he knew the truth and he felt guilty!” Arthur screamed down at his brother. “You were too young to understand then, but we aren’t kids anymore.”

Charles broke free of his state of shock and scrambled to his feet, spitting out a mouthful of blood. “What truth? Huh? Is it worth ruining our brotherhood?”

“Jules was engaged.”

“Bullshit.” Charles shook his head violently and you sank to the ground, leaning back against the cold bricks for the second time that night. “He would have told me.”

“Ask Enzo.” Arthur knew Charles would believe him. Lorenzo was Jules’ best friend, it was why Charles met Jules in the first place. Jules already had ties to your family and he used them to broker the deal that funded Charles’ career. 

“Okay, so what if he was engaged?” Charles snapped as his agitation grew. He was suddenly questioning everything he knew about his godfather and it showed on his shaking hands.

“Because he was engaged to me,” you whispered, a shadow falling across your face as Arthur crouched down beside you and wiped away the tears you hadn’t even felt fall. You couldn’t tell if they were tears of anger or sadness, the two seemed to blur when it came to Jules. He was always there, even in your earliest memories. He was like an older brother to you, he even taught you to ride your bike without trainer wheels. He was always there, until he wasn’t. 

Charles was right, he couldn’t stand to be in the same room as you once the deal was made. You couldn’t blame him for that. 

“No, no fucking way,” Charles laughed, raking a hand through his hair. “Arthur, are you listening to this shit?”

“I’ve seen the contract, Cha.”

“You’ve always been gullible but this is actually stupid. She was 16. Jules wouldn’t have married a girl. He was 25 for fucks sake.”

“We didn’t have a choice,” you admitted quietly. “It was the price for the deal he made, and you are right, Jules was too noble for that. It took a lot of convincing on his part to wait until I turned 21. My father resented that fact, I think he was hoping to sell me off to someone sooner.”

Charles stumbled back to the hood of his car, watching as Arthur took a seat beside you and draped his arm protectively over your shoulders. The brothers stared at each other but you stared at the gravel between your legs while the truth lingered in the air. 

You could feel the pieces connecting in Charles’ head as if they were being screamed aloud and you flinched at the moment they all came together. Arthur’s arm tightened, Charles' throat bobbed and nausea roiled in your stomach.

“It was me,” Charles choked. “Wasn’t it?”

You didn’t bother looking up as you nodded. “My father never cared about your career. He wanted a union with the Bianchi family and he finally got the opportunity when Jules asked to sponsor you.”

“Why the hell would he agree to that?”

“Because he believed in you, obviously, and I like to think that maybe he thought he could get out of the agreement before I turned 21.” You shrugged because you would never know the complete truth now. It made you sick to think that maybe he did find a way out of it, in the worst way possible.

“Your father…”

“Is a real asshole? Yeah, I know.”

“I was going to say sick bastard.” 

You chuckled in agreement and tipped your head back. “Perfect life, am I right?”

Charles had the decency to winch at the reminder. “You’re an adult now, why don’t you leave?”

“I wish it were that easy. All my bank accounts are under his control. They didn’t let me go to college. I don’t know anyone that isn’t indebted or loyal to him,” you sighed. “I got this place with my fight winnings. It’s not much but it’s mine, at least until he arranges another marriage for me, then I suppose the poor bastard gets it too.”

“Marry me.”

You barked a laugh and looked at Arthur, his lips still parted like they were shocked the words had passed by. “Now you are being stupid. I love you, Tur, and that is precisely why I wouldn’t wish this shit on you.”

“Then marry me,” Charles offered. “You hate me already, and I owe Jules everything. You can come to Monaco and study, or get a job, or whatever you want to do.”

“No, thank you,” you said as you pulled yourself to your feet and opened the door. “Drive safe.”

“I’m serious,” Charles growled as caught the door before it closed. “I am offering you a lifeline, why won’t you take it?”

“My father taught me many important life lessons but the first one was if it seems too good to be true, it probably is. Good night, Charles.”

Part Two

[deanwinchestersbabygirll]

Sam Winchester, Hero

-warnings// angst, fluff, SMUT, MENTION OF SA!!

-lil summery// kind of my spin on the pilot episode, based when Sam’s in college, best friends to lovers trope

Sam x reader

Part 2

word count// 3330

(Gif from Pinterest)

Your eyes burned as you continued to read the same line over and over, exhaustion threatening to take over your body any minute "hey you okay?" You looked towards the soft voice to see your best friend Sam, you nodded "yeah I'm just trying to finish this chapter I can't hand in another late assignment" you said stretching your limbs trying to wake yourself up 

Sam chuckled "it's after midnight, you’re gonna end up face down on your desk if you don't get to bed soon" you rolled your tired eyes playfully "I’ll be fine I'll just be another half hour then I'm done, you head on home, I'll be right behind you" Sam shook his head "not a chance this place isn't safe at night I'll wait for you" he said going to sit next to you "Sam sweetie, I'll be fine, our apartment is a ten minute walk at most, plus you know I can handle myself, I've kicked your ass plenty of times" you joked making him smile 

"Alright but I want you to knock on my door when your back home so I know your home safe, I'm giving you forty five minutes and if ur not home by then I'll be back here to haul your  ass home" he said firmly, he was always the worrier, that's what you loved about him the most

"I promise, scouts honour" you promised him with the scouts symbol he chuckled as he moved toward the door "see you at home Y/N" he called as the doors closed leaving you alone in the library, You rubbed your tired red eyes and got back to work, your blinking getting slower until all you could see was darkness and a warm fuzzy feeling take over your body.

Almost an hour later you awoke with a start "oh son of a bitch!" You exclaimed quietly looking at your watch, in a panic you shoved your stuff in your bag quickly before running out the big mahogany doors and taking off in a speed walk down the dark campus towards you and Sam's apartment, hoping he hadn't left yet

You were moments away from sanctuary before you heard the sound of loud foot steps behind you, your heart plummeting to your stomach as you picked up your own pace, you were less than a minute away, the footsteps got closer and your heart was beating a hundred beats per minute

The person behind you grabbed your arm roughly turning you around to face a tall brute of a man, glaring at you his lips twisted in a dirty smile "where you heading beautiful?" He asked his grip on your arm tightening making you wince "none of your business now get your damn hand off me you jackass!" You exclaimed trying to pull your arm away 

"Watch yourself now... the nicer you are to me the better I'll make you feel" the man said licking his greasy lips, your stomach turned and you regretted not leaving with Sam earlier. 

Tears pricked at your eyes as you tried to fight him off "if you touch me I swear I'll-" you started to say before a loud laugh cut you off "you'll what baby? Look at me then look at you, who's got the upper hand here?" he mocked before a third voice interrupted him 

"I do!" The voice said and a fist was slamming against your attackers face knocking the brute out, screaming you turned to see your saviour as the tears streamed down you face, you saw Sam looking back at you concern written all over his face "c'mon let's go" he said quickly taking your bag from you and pulling you tightly to his side making your worries instantly vanish as you cuddled into him 

Sam unlocked the door with his free hand, never letting go of you, he locked the door instantly as soon as you stepped inside "are you okay? I knew I shouldn't have fucking left" Sam told you his voice cracking slightly as his hands cradled your face in them as his green eyes scanned for any visible injuries.

"I'm okay Sammy" you assured him but he shook his head, his shaggy hair bouncing as he did "I'm so sorry I didn't get there sooner, I shouldn't have left you by yourself it's not safe i-" "SAM!" You yelled cutting his rambling off, his eyes snapping down to meet yours "I'm okay, I promise, you got me before he could do anything" you promised him, brushing a stray strand of shaggy brown hair behind his ear

He closed his eyes tightly and sighed loudly, his shoulders remaining as tense as ever, he wrapped his strong arms tightly around you, holding you tightly to him

You rest your head against his hard chest, listening to his heart beating like crazy as he breathed in your scent "are you okay sweetie?" You questioned looking up at him

Sam nodded slowly "I'm doing everything I can right now to stop myself from killing that perverted bastard" Sam confessed, his voice low and serious, you chuckled quietly "Sammy your the sweetest guy I've ever met, you don't have killer instincts in you" 

Sam swallowed thickly... little did you know who he really was, how many monsters he'd killed since he learned to walk "...yeah your probably right, come on let's get some sleep" Sam said changing the subject quickly

You stepped away from the his warm comforting embrace nodding your head, a quiet quiver threatening to leave your lips  "night Sammy" you leaned up to kiss his cheek before retreating to your bedroom.

You shivered as you walked into your dark bedroom, you pulled on an oversized shirt kicked off your jeans before getting into you bed, your whole body shook as you lay, the events of the night finally setting in your head

You let the hot tears fall slowly down your face as you fell asleep. 

You awoke a while later, you heart beating like crazy, your face stung as tears, new and fresh stuck to your cheeks, you tried catching your breath before making your way quickly to your bedroom door and down the hall to your best friends room

You knocked lightly on the door but there was no response other than the small snores on the other side, you questioned if you should just suck it up and go back to your own room but you knew you couldn't, not alone 

Taking a deep shaky breath you opened the door tip toeing towards the sleeping giant, "Sammy?" You whispered in a strained voice, "...Y/N... w-what's going on? Everything okay?" Sam quickly shot up suddenly as though he was wide awake. You tried to control your breathing before replying "y-yeah I uh, I-" you struggled to get out before you broke completely, your whole body shaking as more tears streamed down your swollen face

Sam was instantly pulling you down to sit next to him on his bed, pulling your shaking body tightly into his warm embrace, his muscular arms wrapping around you waist as you lay your head in the crook of his neck, "hey it's okay just breath" he said gently trolling your hair from your face "what happened?" He asked quietly stroking your wet hair behind your ear 

You took a deep shaky breath leaning into his touch "I- I just had a bad dream and I didn't want to be alone, can I stay with you, please?" You begged Sam, your heart racing like crazy, Sam's cheeks flushed a deep red as he nodded his head almost immediately "of course you can, you know you can always come to me no matter what" You smiled squeezing his hand tightly as a silent thank you.

Sam stayed in that position for another while longer, just holding you tightly to him as you slowly regained your breathing and the tears stopped rolling, "you ready to lay down?" Sam asked rubbing his hand up and down your cold arms nodding you move to his side, slowly lowering your self to rest against the cold unused pillow in Sam's bed, Sam turned to face you in the bed,

His hand once again reaching out for your own "I promise your safe here, I would never in a million years let anyone or anything hurt you" Sam assured you making your heart swell, "I know sweetie,  your like my very own superhero" you told him making his lips pull into his familiar grin "night gorgeous" Sam said giving your small hand another light squeeze "night Sammy" you whispered back.

You lay there another few minutes just staring into the dark room, this was different than how you felt earlier in your own bed, you felt safe... you just couldn't trust your mind enough to sleep

You turned to your side to face Sam, his eyes already on you "I can't sleep" you whispered lowly to him your faces inches apart as Sam moved closer his arm moving to wrap around your waist as his green eyes stared into yours "it'll be okay, I'm right here next to you" Sam promised making you smile up at him 

Your hand cupped the side of Sam's face gently as you moved closer, just testing the waters, letting him have time to pull away if he wanted to, but he didn't.

Sam closed the small gap between your lips quickly capturing you lips with his, you let out a small gasp as your hand flew to grip the back of his neck lightly, his own gripping your waist pulling you as close as possible to him, you let out a quiet moan as Sam moved you to lay on your back, his body rolling to hover above you 

You wrapped you legs tightly around Sam's hips pulling him down so that his covered cock was pressing against your clothed clit, "oh god Sammy" you breathed out pulling his hair slightly 

Sam moved his kisses down your neck causing your eyes to roll "Sam please" you begged tightening your legs around his hips, sam obeyed as he pulled back slightly to pull his grey shirt and off revealing his muscular chest, you ran your hand down from his toned chest down to his pyjama pants, you swallowed the thick lump of nerves in your throat "Y/N, we don't have to do this" Sam told you sensing your nerves 

You shook your head and smiled up at him "I want to do this, with you" you told him as you gently pulled him back down for a kiss, he smirked into the kiss, his hands moving to the hem of your oversized shirt you'd stolen from Sam many moons ago, he pulled the shirt off your body, revealing your bare breasts to him, he instantly grasped them in his warm hands

You let out a small moan of his name, arching your back from the bed "please touch me" you begged, sam chuckled and kissed his was down your chest taking each breast in his hot mouth before continuing his way down your stomach, he dragged your panties down off your legs, gasping at the cold air hitting your core you move to clench your thighs together

Sam's hands caught your thighs quickly, spreading them wider exposing you completely to him "you look so beautiful like this" Sam said his eyes a darker green, bordering a light brown, Sam blew cold air against your soaking pussy before diving in, you screamed in pleasure your hand rushing to gripe Sam's longer hair, "oh god Sammy! Please don't stop that feels so fucking good" you cried out as Sam sucked hour clit into his mouth and inserting his two long fingers inside your dripping hole "you taste fucking delicious Y/N I could stay between these legs all damn day if you let me" Sam said against your pussy, the vibrations of his deep voice and combination of his thrusting fingers causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head "I'm so close Sammy please!" You screamed in pleasure slamming your head back against the pillow behind you as Sam sped up his movements, all that could be heard in the room was heavy breaths and the sounds of Sam's mouth and fingers working you toward your orgasm

You cried out in ecstasy, Sam's long fingers curled inside of you hitting your g-spot repeatedly his lips wrapping around your clit stimulating you completely, you screamed Sam's name as the coil snapped, your orgasm came crashing towards you causing your body to shake slightly, sam carried you through it, not stopping until you gently pushed him away from you, you legs around his shoulders shaking "that was the hottest fucking thing in the world, I've never had a guy do that to me before" you breathed out, still trying to catch your breath

Sam chuckled giving you lips a small kiss "well you have only dated jackasses who clearly have no idea how to please their girls, if I had it my way I'd have you tied to the bed with me down there all damn night" Sam confessed making your heart pound, you looked at him threw half lidded eyes a smirk playing on your lips "I'm not opposed to getting tied up sometime" you said making sam groan loudly as you pulled him into another deep kiss, your hand snuck it's way into his pants and wrapped around his hard cock, you started to move your hand in an up and down motion before Sam quickly grabbed your wrist stopping you

Your eyes snapped to his in a panic and your heart raced in panic, "What's wrong?" You questioned quickly and Sam smiled "nothing it's just… I'd rather be inside you gorgeous" Sam told you and he kicked the rest of his pants off leaving his big hard cock on full display making your mouth water "do you have a condom?" You struggled to ask as your mouth was suddenly dry

Sam nodded, hovering over your bare body to reach into his nightstand, he quickly pulled out a familiar foil package, he ripped it open quickly with his teeth and rolled it onto his erect member "are you sure your okay with this?" Sam, ever the gentleman asked you, his hands ran up and down your waist in a comforting way making you smile  "of course I am Sammy" you confessed wrapping your legs tightly around his hips and pulling him down to you so he was chest to chest to you

Sam leaned down to capture your lips in a sensual kiss, not rushed or hard like the other kisses, you felt him place his covered tip at your entrance, your pussy clenching in desperation to feel him inside you,

Your moan caught in your throat as Sam pushed his way inside you, filling you up, inch by inch

Sam sucked in a harsh breath, his lips moving to attach to your neck "god Y/N your so fucking tight, can already feel you squeezing me" he groaned out hotly against your neck, you giggled softly as your hands ran up Sam's muscled back, he began to move his hips slowly to rest the waters, there was a slight pain but nothing could take away from the pleasure of having Sam so close to you like this "faster Sammy please" you told him arching against him to allow him to push inside you deeper, Sam obeyed and grabbed your thighs, he pushed them up so you knees were against your chest, your calves hanging over his broad shoulders

Sam pulled his hips almost all the way back before slamming back inside you making you scream in pleasure

He continued to slam his cock deep inside you at a fast pace, hitting your G-spot with every thrust his pelvic bone pressing against you swollen clit adding just the right amount of pleasure "yes!" You screamed dragging your nails down Sam's back as white hot pleasure clouded your vision, you knew your orgasm was fast approaching as the coil in your stomach tightened "cum with me baby" you moaned out, Sam quickened his movements feeling his own orgasm crash against him, he moved his hand down to rub your clit quickly causing the band in your stomach to snap, you screamed Sam's name as your juices came flowing out of you, down Sam's thighs as Sam groaned feeling the condom fill with his hot seed 

Sam continued to thrust a few more times slowly to calm you both downs, whimpering when he pulled out you gave him a gentle kiss on his now swollen lips "that was amazing" you said once you pulled away causing Sam to chuckle, he threw the used condom in his trash can "yeah that was the best sex I've ever had" Sam confessed making your heart race and your cheeks turn pink when you giggled “yeah me too”

Sam pushed a stray hair behind your ear, his eyes staring into your own with intensity “I really like you Y/N, your my best friend.. I mean I know we just crossed the line of just friends but I want you, I mean, I want this, not just sex.. I mean I want you.. all of you” Sam confessed before kissing you quickly to solidify his words 

Your heart pounded against your chest as you listened to Sam’s confession, “I want that to Sammy” you said placing your hands on either side of his face, leaning in to peck his kiss swollen lips a couple of times until the smiles on both your lips made it impossible to keep going “so how about tomorrow after your last class we head down the Chinese place for dinner and we can rent a movie to take back home?” Sam asked you nervously “I’d love that” you told him before going to the bathroom to get ready for bed again, this time in the safe protective arms of your boyfriend.

A couple of hours later you awoke to voices in the kitchen, panic rose in your chest before you turned to wake Sam, surprised when all that was in his spot was cold sheets, you furrowed you brows before getting up, you quickly pulled on your over side shirt and panties before stalking towards the kitchen where your boyfriend and another man were talking  “sam?” You called for him making his head snap towards you “Y/N hey what you doing out of bed?” Sam questioned placing his hand on your arm 

You opened your mouth to answer before the other man moved towards you a big flirty smile graced his lips “wow you are so far out of my brothers league” the man said making sam roll his eyes “oh your Dean! Sam’s told me a lot about you” you said making him chuckle “all good I hope” he said before turning his attention back to your boyfriend before staring at you again “listen sweetheart, I gotta talk to your boyfriend here about some family business would you mind giving us a minute?” He asked trying to be as nice as possible “of course I’ll just-” you were cut off by Sam’s big arm wrapping tightly around yours waist pulling you tightly to his side “no, anything you can say to me, you can say in front of Y/N” Sam told him his chest puffed out in anger 

Dean clapped his hands together in frustration “fine, dad hasn’t been home in a couple days” Sam scoffed and rolled his eyes dramatically once again “yeah, he’ll come stumbling back on in soon enough, just like he always does!” Sam said annoyed, his muscled arm around your waist tightening as Dean sighed lowly 

 “alright, dads on a hunting trip, and he hasn’t been home in a few days”. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ALL MY OWN WORK I DO NOT GIVE CONSENT TO COPY OR PUBLISH ON OTHER SITES , I.E WATTPAD, ETC, WITHOUT MESSAGING TO ASK FIRST

For my Sam girlies!

[dilfgoon]

Beginning of the End

Pairing: pre outbreak!Joel Miller x fem!Reader

Summary: You return to Texas for summer, greeted by Joel — your dad’s best friend — whose presence stirs up long-buried tension. The air crackles with heat, not just from the sun, but from glances too long and words too careful.

Rating: 18+ (but who am i to tell you what to read)

WC: 2,823

Warnings: smut with a bit of plot, Modern Day AU, Dad’s Best Friend, Age Gap (Reader is in her 20s, Joel in his mid 50s), Forbidden sexual Tension, oral (m!receiving), public sex, unprotected piv (wrap it before you tap it), light breeding kink, light dumbification (like one sentence lmao) and i hope that’s it

A/N: these new pictures?!?! EXCUSE ME I CANT I NEED THIS MAN BIBLICALLY OKAY BYE. So i did the only right thing - wrote some smut 😔✊🏻 also, this it not really proofread so don’t come at me for mistakes

18+ under the cut!

The Texas heat hit like a wall the second you stepped off the plane, thick and unrelenting. You adjusted the strap of your bag, squinting against the sun as you scanned the crowd for a familiar face.

“Over here, sweetheart!”

Joel Miller stood leaning against his black pickup truck, a pair of Ray-Bans pushed up into his dark hair, arms folded across his broad chest. His voice cut through the airport noise like warm honey — familiar, grounding. You smiled, heart doing something odd in your chest as you walked over.

“Hey, old man,” you teased, tossing your bag into the backseat before hugging him.

Joel grunted, arms wrapping around you with a little more force than necessary. “Still smart-mouthed, huh? What do they teach y’all in college these days?”

“Nothing useful,” you quipped, pulling back just enough to look at him.

He hadn’t changed much — maybe a few more lines around his eyes, a touch more gray at his temples. But he was still Joel. Still the man who taught you how to fix a flat tire, still the one who made the best barbecue in the neighborhood, still your dad’s best friend.

Still completely off-limits.

You shook the thought away as you climbed into the passenger seat.

Sarah was waiting at the house when Joel pulled in, grinning as she all but tackled you in a hug.

“Two months,” Sarah beamed. “I’ve already got a list of parties, movie nights, and absolutely nothing responsible planned.”

“Perfect,” you laughed. “I’m not even unpacking my textbooks.”

Joel chuckled behind you both as he headed for the kitchen. “Just remember y’all are under my roof. I better not find any strange boys sneaking out the back door.”

You threw him a look over your shoulder. “That’s a pretty outdated assumption, Miller. Maybe I’ll be the one sneaking out.”

He paused at the fridge, glancing at you — a little too long. “That’s not funny.”

Your stomach flipped. The air shifted — just barely — but enough that Sarah rolled her eyes and tugged you upstairs before you could say anything else.

Later that night, while you and Sarah were watching TV and Sarah had dozed off on the couch, you padded into the kitchen to grab a drink. Joel was there — nursing a beer, leaned against the counter, lost in a book.

He looked up when you walked in. “Can’t sleep?”

“Not really.”

His eyes flicked over you — bare legs, tank top — and then quickly back to his bottle.

“You should get some rest,” he said, voice quieter now. Rougher.

You lingered near the counter, fingers brushing the condensation on your glass. “You still dating that woman from the hardware store?”

Joel blinked. “Lisa?”

“Yeah.”

“No. Didn’t work out.”

You nodded slowly, and when he looked up at you again, there was something in his gaze that wasn’t there before. Something dangerous. Something that made you feel like you were balancing on the edge of something sharp.

“You’ve grown up,” he said softly. “A lot.”

“I’m an adult now, Joel.”

“I know.”

Silence stretched, heavy and charged.

Then he cleared his throat and stepped back. “You should head to bed.”

But the way he looked at you before turning away — like he was trying to remember every line of your face — told you everything you needed to know.

This summer was going to be different.

The house was quiet.

Sarah had gone out to some party, promising to be back late, and Joel had stayed home, claiming he was too tired for the noise. You hadn’t planned to stay in — but when Sarah left, you found yourself lingering. You told yourself it was because the couch was more comfortable than going out. Told yourself the wine in the fridge was reason enough.

But really, it was him.

Joel sat on the back porch, one leg propped up, beer in hand, looking out over the yard like the summer night held answers he was too tired to ask for. The porch light cast shadows over the sharp angles of his face — the stubble along his jaw, the deep lines that came from years of hard work and harder choices.

You stepped outside, barefoot, cradling your own glass of wine.

He looked over, eyes trailing down your legs, lingering on the curve of your hips beneath the oversized shirt you were wearing — his shirt, technically. One you’d stolen out of the laundry days ago and never gave back.

“You always steal clothes from men twice your age?” Joel asked, voice a low drawl.

You raised a brow, settling into the chair beside him. “Only the ones I’m not supposed to want.”

The air cracked like lightning between you.

Joel’s jaw tightened. He took a slow sip of his beer and didn’t answer.

You leaned back, eyes on the stars above. “You’re always looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you want me,” you said softly, “and hate yourself for it.”

That did it.

In one breathless second, he was out of his chair and standing in front of you. His hand cupped your cheek, rough thumb brushing your skin, and his eyes searched yours with something between a warning and a plea.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he said, voice tight.

“I do,” you whispered. “And I don’t care.”

Joel didn’t move.

So you did.

You stood, close enough that your chest brushed his. You tilted your head up and kissed him — soft at first, testing. But the second his lips touched yours, the dam broke.

He groaned — low and deep — and kissed you like he’d been waiting years for it. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him, mouth greedy and desperate. You moaned against his lips, fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt as your back hit the porch wall.

“You’re so goddamn young,” he muttered against your neck, voice strained as he pressed hot kisses to your skin.

“I’m old enough to know what I want,” you whispered, tugging him closer.

His hands slid under the hem of the shirt, fingers rough on your bare thighs, and he cursed under his breath. “You shouldn’t want me.”

“But I do.”

Joel kissed you again — harder this time, almost angry. Not at you, but at himself. At how fast he was unraveling.

Your mouths met again and again, each kiss a confession both were too afraid to speak out loud.

He gripped the back of your neck, forehead resting against yours, breaths shallow.

“If your dad knew—”

“He’s not here,” you whispered, brushing your lips over his. “And you’re not thinking about him right now. Are you?”

“No,” Joel rasped. “Right now all I’m thinking about is how much I wanna ruin you.”

A breath hitched in your throat.

And still — he didn’t stop. His hand slid up your side, thumb brushing the underside of your breast, and you arched into him with a soft whimper.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured.

You didn’t.

You pulled him down to kiss you again instead.

And that was it.

Joel groaned, deep and ragged, as he lifted you effortlessly onto the edge of the porch railing, standing between your legs. His lips moved down your neck, teeth grazing skin, hands roaming freely now.

There would be guilt later. Shame. Regret.

But in that moment — all heat and tension and low moans swallowed by summer air — both of you didn’t think.

And you sure as hell didn’t care.

The porch was still, crickets humming in the background, but the air between you was electric.

Joel’s hands were on your bare thighs, fingers tight like he didn’t trust himself to let go. You could feel how hard he was through his jeans, pressed between your legs, breath coming heavy against your neck. And still, even as he kissed you like a dying man tasting water, his voice was a strained whisper:

“We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“I know,” you breathed, fingers moving to his belt, “but you don’t want me to stop.”

His head dropped to your shoulder, a guttural sound leaving his throat as you unfastened his jeans with quiet, practiced ease. You slid down from the porch railing, knees meeting the old wooden deck as you looked up at him.

“Jesus…” he muttered, torn between pulling away and thrusting forward.

Your hands moved slow, teasing him free from his boxers. He was thick and heavy in your palm, already leaking at the tip. The sight made your thighs clench, made you ache.

Joel looked down at you like he couldn’t believe this was happening — like he was waiting for the guilt to catch up and knock him out cold.

But then you licked a slow stripe along the underside of his cock, and he swore harshly, head falling back with a groan.

“Fuck…”

You wrapped your lips around the tip and sucked — soft, warm, gentle at first, just enough to make him twitch in your mouth. Your tongue circled the head, tasting salt and skin, before you slid lower, taking him deeper with each slow pull.

Joel’s hand found your hair, fingers tangling almost involuntarily.

“This is so wrong,” he breathed. “You’re—fuck—your daddy would kill me.”

You hummed around him, and the vibration made his knees nearly buckle.

“You’re my best friend’s little girl,” he groaned. “You grew up with Sarah, for Christ’s sake…”

But he didn’t stop you. Couldn’t.

Not when you looked up at him like that — eyes wide, cheeks flushed, lips stretched around his cock like you were made for it.

He tightened his grip in your hair, guiding you just slightly, the conflict etched across his face even as his hips rocked forward into your mouth.

“Goddamn it, baby,” he muttered, voice ragged. “You don’t even know what you’re doing to me.”

You pulled back for just a moment, breath hot against him as you whispered, “Yes I do.”

And then you took him again, deeper this time — gagging slightly, but pushing through, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth as you worked him with wet, determined strokes. Your hands gripped his thighs, pace unrelenting.

Joel’s free hand hit the porch railing, knuckles white. His breath came fast, sweat beading along his brow. “Baby—shit—I’m gonna—”

You moaned around him, and that was it.

He spilled into your mouth with a strangled growl, hips jerking, head falling forward as he came hard — messy, hot, and overwhelmed. You swallowed every drop, then licked your lips slowly as you sat back on your heels.

Joel looked down at you like you were something unreal. Dangerous. Sacred.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he said hoarsely.

“You didn’t stop me,” you whispered.

Silence settled over you like a blanket.

Joel should’ve walked away.

He should’ve pulled his jeans back up, told you to go inside, locked the goddamn door behind him and slept this lust out like a bad dream.

But when you looked up at him with spit-slick lips and glassy eyes, his cock still twitching from the way your mouth wrecked him, Joel knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Get up,” he rasped.

You blinked, breathless. “Wha—”

“Get up,” he growled again, hauling you to your feet in one swift motion.

His mouth crashed onto yours, messy and hard, tasting himself on your tongue. You moaned into it, fingers clawing at his shoulders, legs shaky as he spun you around and pressed you against the porch railing.

“You don’t know what you’re doin’ to me,” he muttered against your neck, biting at the skin. “You don’t have a goddamn clue.”

“I do,” you whispered. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

That snapped something in him.

Joel shoved your shirt up, baring you to the warm night air, and pushed your panties to the side with a rough grunt.

“You’re soaked,” he growled, dragging two fingers through your folds. “You got this wet just from suckin’ me off, baby?”

You nodded, breath hitching. “Want you. Want you so bad—”

And that was it.

Joel didn’t hesitate.

He lined himself up, thick and still hard, and shoved inside you in one deep, brutal thrust.

You gasped — loud, sharp — as your body arched, hands scrambling for something to hold onto.

“Joel—!”

“Shhh,” he hissed, biting your shoulder. “You want someone hearin’ you like this? Want the whole neighborhood to know what a filthy little thing you are for me?”

You whimpered. “I don’t care. Let them hear.”

That sent him spiraling.

He started to move — slow, dragging thrusts at first, like he wanted to savor every inch of you. But it didn’t last long. Joel was already too far gone. His hands gripped your hips tight, pulling your back onto his cock over and over, until all you could do was sob his name into the wood slats of the railing.

“You feel that?” he grunted, hips snapping against your ass. “Feel how deep I am?”

You could only nod, lips parted, eyes dazed.

“Fuckin’ made for me,” Joel muttered. “Takin’ me so good, baby… just like that…”

Each thrust shoved you forward, body jolting with every punishing snap of his hips. Your legs shook beneath you, knees threatening to give out, and Joel wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you upright.

“That’s it,” he praised, voice dark and wrecked. “Let me fuck you dumb, sweet girl. Let me ruin you for anyone else.”

“Already are,” you slurred. “Already ruined.”

Joel groaned — feral, raw — and drove into you harder.

You were gone. Eyes fluttering, mouth open, fucked out completely. You babbled his name like a prayer between moans, fingers clawing at the railing like it was the only thing tethering you to earth.

He reached down between you both, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles that made you scream. “Come for me, baby. Right now. Let me feel you.”

You shattered with a cry, pussy clenching around him, soaking his cock as your orgasm tore through you. Your whole body trembled, and Joel fucked you through it, still chasing his own release.

“Gonna fill you up,” he groaned. “Wanna see it dripping down your thighs. My girl.”

“Y-Yeah—please—” You gasped. “Do it. Want it. Please, Joel—”

He came with a strangled sound, spilling deep inside you, hips jerking as he filled you completely. The heat of it made you whimper, still twitching around him.

You stayed like that for a moment — pressed together, breathing hard, sweat-slicked and ruined — before Joel finally pulled out, watching his cum leak from your swollen cunt.

He stared like he couldn’t believe what he’d done.

You looked over your shoulder, dazed and glowing. “You still think I don’t know what I’m doing?”

Joel wiped a hand over his face, chest still heaving. “Fuck.”

You both knew this wasn’t just a mistake.

It was the beginning of the end.

A/N: u made it! lmk what you think!! likes and reblogs are welcome <3

[nereidprinc3ss]

rubber duck

in which reader is sick and spencer takes care of his girl!!

fluff (18+ for nudity) warnings/tags: reader referred to as girl, non-sexual undressing + nudity/intimacy, reader takes bath, spencer doesn't but he is in fact present a/n: heeeeyyy guys.... sorry for not posting for a month... accept this as a token of my gratitude and know that smut is in the works. keep sending requests, might not answer them but you never knoww!!

Spencer gets home around ten PM. Granted, it’s not a completely unreasonable time for someone to be asleep, but for you? A person who’d rather not go to bed at all than wake up before eight in the morning? You being passed out on the couch at this time is definitely abnormal.  

He drops his bag on the coffee table as he approaches, kneeling next to where you’re curled up in the dark room. Part of him doesn’t want to wake you if you’re tired, but he’s mildly concerned. Normally after him being away all week you’ll stay up until he gets home regardless of how late (or early) it is. Ambient light coming in through the window allows him to see the sickly sheen to your skin, and he feels your forehead with the back of his hand. 

“Spence?” you murmur, trying to blink the sleep out of your eyes. His response is equally quiet, wavering slightly. 

“Hey. Are you feeling okay, angel?” 

Even though you decidedly are not, your spirit lifts considerably at the sight of him in front of you. A wave of caramel hair falls over his furrowed brow as he scans your face, looking for signs that something is wrong. You brush it away, hand coming to rest on his cheek. 

“I’m fine. I missed you a lot.” 

Your voice is a paper-thin whisper, giving you away even as you try to downplay your condition. 

“I missed you too, but I’m a little worried. You’re pretty warm.” His eyes dart away from your face and down your body, seeming to notice your attire for the first time. “Did you go to work?” 

“I tried to. But I had to come home at early. I guess I didn’t make it all the way to bed.” 

This seems to worry him even more, if the way his eyes narrow and the line of his mouth tightens is anything to go by.  

“How long have you been asleep?” 

“Well... what time is it?” you ask sheepishly, still disoriented. 

“10:20.” 

“Oh god,” you moan, burying your face into a pillow (which does not make breathing any easier through all the congestion), “I’ve been sleeping for eight hours!” Panic wells in your chest at the ridiculous notion that you somehow lost an entire day to sleep.  "I didn't mean to-"

“Shh, relax, it's fine. Your immune system works a lot more efficiently when you’re asleep. It’s the best thing you can do when you’re sick. Studies show that melatonin may actually be an effective antiviral, and people who sleep seven hours a night are 300% less likely to develop an illness than people who sleep only five hours a night.” 

Despite yourself, you smile into the pillow at his unprompted information dump.

“So... am I... 500% more likely to be better tomorrow?” 

He laughs, running a hand through your hair. 

“I don’t even know where you got that number.” 

“I failed statistics in high school,” you mutter, pushing yourself up onto an elbow. 

“Honey, that’s Algebra.” 

You bury your face in your hand and laugh at your own stupidity- before it devolves into a coughing fit.  

“Ugh, I’m sorry. I know you hate germs,” you say once you’ve managed to get the coughing under control. You look at his face, but there are no signs of disgust or fear. 

“I could never hate your germs. But I am worried about the cough... do you think a bath would help?” 

You mull it over. Part of you wants to rot on the couch forever, but the more rational part knows you should definitely get up and try to take care of yourself. With a helping hand from Spencer you rise, stumbling into his waiting arms like a foal on shaky legs. Immediately you feel fatigued, but he patiently guides you to the bedroom and sits you on the mattress before disappearing into the adjoining bathroom. 

For a few minutes the only sound aside from you catching your breath is the tub filling from the other room. Soon he returns, to find you curled up on the bed and barely conscious once more. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he sighs, gathering you up in his arms and helping you to your feet once more. “You really don’t feel good, huh?” 

You shake your head, allowing yourself to be carefully herded into the bathroom. Spencer moves to sit on the edge of the steaming tub, pulling you forward gently by your belt loops. Deftly he begins to undo your jeans as you fumble with the buttons on your shirt. 

“I feel like I’m dying,” you groan. He glances up at you.

“I wish you would have told me you were sick. I would have come home earlier.”  

“I thought about it,” you admit sheepishly, “but I figured better I be sick and alone than more people potentially end up dead because I’m too needy.” 

Your boyfriend sighs, resting his hands on your hips as he looks up at you with a mix of earnestness and admonishment.  

“At least tell me next time. I don’t like the idea of you here all alone without anyone knowing you’re ill.” His fingers press gently into your flesh to emphasize his point. “Okay?” 

“Okay,” you agree softly, without hesitation. Spencer’s expression softens too, and he leans forward to press a kiss to your sternum. 

“In,” he directs after you wiggle out of your jeans, getting out of the way and helping you into the water. He watches as you carefully submerge yourself, a little tense as if he’s ready to jump into action at any second. “Is it too warm? I tried not to make it too hot because your body temperature is al-” 

“It’s perfect,” you reassure, sinking further in. Steam billows up around you and you sniff. “Lavender?” 

Spencer nods, settling on the floor next to you. 

“And mint. I’m surprised you can actually smell it.” 

Normally you’d tease him for his fussing, but the minty steam really does seem to be helping you breathe a bit easier. After only a few minutes, you feel noticeably better. 

“Will you read to me?” you ask dropping your head to your shoulder to look at him. 

He’s leaning against the wall and monitoring you with a contented look on his face. At the suggestion his eyebrows raise. 

“Of course. What do you want to hear?” 

“Fairytales. But only the super gory ones. The more disturbing the better.” 

“What? No Jane Austen?” 

“Ugh, no. I need to hear about terrible things happening to beautiful princesses so I can feel seen.” 

A small smirk graces his lips as he regards you, eyes sparkling with humor and thinly veiled affection. 

“You are utterly ridiculous.” 

“You have to be nice to me when I’m sick,” you whine, slinking lower into the bubbles. Spencer hums in sympathy, running his hand through the water to check the temperature before trailing his knuckles over your arm. 

“My poor sick girl,” he teases. You huff indignantly, attempting to hide the way his words make you melt into the bathwater. 

“Just get the book, Spencer.” 

“Yes ma’am.” He kisses your forehead (covertly gauging your fever, you’re sure) before pushing off the ground. You watch him leave, heart overflowing with adoration even though you still feel sick. Maybe it’s the bath that’s helping, or maybe it’s just his presence.  

A minute later he returns to his post beside you bearing Grimm’s Fairytales and a tall glass of water, which he tells you to drink all of before he starts reading. Regardless of how unwell you feel, you find the energy to make sarcastic comments about the characters’ intelligence and the implausibility of the plot (it’s a fairytale, Spencer reminds you) but soon the soothing cadence of his voice enthralls you. The illustrations and the story capture your imagination as you rest your head and arms on the side of the tub. 

More time has gone by than you realize when you begin to shiver in the now lukewarm water. Spencer notices, finally setting the book down. 

“Ready to get out?” 

You nod and he helps you step out of the tub, pulling you close and wrapping you with a fluffy towel. Absolutely no heed is given to the state of his own clothing as your wet skin soaks his shirt, or his own health as he breathes in your air. 

“I’m gonna get you sick, Spence,” you say anxiously, making a feeble attempt to pull away. Spencer doesn’t even begin to allow it, holding you even tighter. The honesty of his words is reflected in his eyes as he looks down at you adoringly. 

“I can live with the idea of spending a few days at home together.” 

You lean into him further, too tired to hold much of your own weight up. 

“I can’t believe you have to intentionally get sick to get time off work.” 

“You’re definitely worth it.” He kisses the top of your head and rubs your back for a moment.  

“And to think,” you muse, the words muffled by his shirt, "when we first met, you wouldn’t even shake my hand.” 

[xan-izme]

Double Life 9 (ATSV x reader x Batfam)

summary: Are you going to let your pride get in the way of what matters most?

Part 8, Part 10

Damian was watching you and Miles from afar. It was clear you two were close. He was, a little jealous. But he was quick to brush it off. He knows there is a bond between you and Miles stronger than the one he has with you. So, he won't fuss about it.

"Damian right? you waiting for Y/n?" Rio suddenly came up behind Damian and handed him a cup of juice.

Damian takes the cup and thanks her. "Yes. . . Mrs. Moralas. Do you know any, Miguels involved with my sister?" Damian looked up at Rio, with an innocent curious face.

"Miguel . . . Miguel? No. No, I don't think so? Why?" Rio hoped it wasn't some boy she was involved with.

"Just, wondering."

Bruce was staring at the graffiti art of your mother. He felt, sadness, guilt. Sad because he was too late to be there for you and your mother. Failed to support your mother when she probably needed it the most. Guilty, because he could probably never love your mother as strongly as you do.

He glanced over to where you and your cousin were standing. That was when he sees you actually letting your guard down completely. You looked so, tired. Like the heavy burden he sees you with, doubled by a ton. Yet, you seemed peaceful. Maybe because, your cousin seems to share the same look as you did.

He knew those looks. For a second. a suspicion creeped into his mind. But he was quick to shake it off.

'Impossible'

he would think to himself as he lets out a low chuckle. What a silly thought.

The party ended and you and the Waynes stayed behind to help clean and what not. Bruce got to see a lot of your baby pictures thanks to Rio and Jeff.

It was pretty fun, spending time with both families. Even Jason was being tolerable. While everyone was interacting with each other in the living room, Damian slipped away. decided to explore down the halls of the apartment. Pictures of you and Miles on the walls. Family trips, graduation. Every achievement framed and hanged on the walls.

Damian eventually found Miles room. The door was left slightly ajar. He would usually just go in and snoop around. But something was holding him back.

"Hey."

Suddenly Jason was behind him. Catching him off guard while he was deep in thought.

"Todd. What are you doing?" Damian spoke firmly as he glared up at the older. Jason just shrugged and chuckled "Doing the same as you. Taking a look around of course." Jason pushed past the younger boy and entered the bedroom.

Scanning the room, seemingly trying to search for something.

Damian frowns deeply and stomped into the room. "We shouldn't be in here."

Jason scoffs as he picked up a photo of you and Miles together. Dressed in your Sunday best. Smiling without a care in the world.

"Scared your big sis will get mad at you?" Jason mumbled as he set the photo face down back on the table. His eyes scan the desk. Drawings. He walked up to the desk and picked up the papers. shuffling them. looks like drawings of suits. Super suits to be specific.

Spider womans suits to be more specific.

It didn't look like some fanart or just little doodles. These were details. Upgrades with little gadgets.

"He's in on it." Jason mumbled to himself. Realizing your cousin Miles knows your secret. This gives Jason a lot of more information on you now. Proving some theories he had of you. And changing some others.

Damian just stood behind Jason. He didn't understand what Jason said. Nor did he care.

"Stop it Todd. This is an invasion of our hosts privacy." Damian demanded. Jason couldn't help but scoff humorously once again

"Cheap coming from you."

Suddenly two shadows from the open door were noticed by Damian. Before Damian can turn around. A deep voice spoke.

"You should listen to the kid."

When Jason and Damian turn to the door. They were greeted by you and Miles leaning on each side of the doorframe. Glaring at the both of them with cold stoic looks. Your glare was mainly aimed at Jason.

"Y/n I-" Damian was panicking a little. You walked into the room an put your hand on his shoulder. Giving him a small smile. Not the sweet one you usually give him. You were giving him the smile that looked empty.

"Go back and join the others cupcake." You ruffled his head and nudged him along out of the room. You signaled Miles to go along with Damian just in case he wonders off.

"Your cousin a fan of Spider woman? Does he know about-" Jason held up the paper drawings. You snatched the drawings out of his hand with a scowl, you roughly grabbed him by his collar and held him up the ground with your super strength.

"Whoa whoa!" Jason held up his hands in surrender, but he still had that damn smirk on his face. He was enjoying seeing that he pissed you off.

"We made a deal. I suggest you stick to that only." Your tone was an uneasy calmness as you spoke. You carelessly dropped Jason and stormed out of the room.

Jason huffed in annoyance, getting off the floor. You just gave him a warning.

It was time to leave and get back to Gotham. Bruce and the boys were heading back to the limo as you were saying your goodbyes. You and Miles gave each other a tight hug. You sighed as you pulled away. A sad look in your eyes.

"What?" Miles knows somethings wrong. You just, stared at him while holding him by his shoulders. The kind of look that seems far away.

"Nothing. . . love you, bye." You gave a small smile gently cupping one side of his face before letting go. Miles chuckled and smiled back.

"Bye!" He waved as you walked to the limo.

Back at Gotham. It was late in the night. You had gotten an alert from the watch. An anomaly showed up. In Gotham. You were quick. You took out the anomaly before it could do any serious damage.

But before you could get back to the Wayne mansion. You got another alert. You took care of it. Then another showed up.

It wasn't till the sun began to come up did you finally get back to the mansion. You haven't had a night like that in a while. As you laid in bed. Gwen came to mind. Her words.

Her warning of how Miles and Aaron not being able to be your replacement for long.

The anomalies were getting stronger. The more you just laid there and thought about it, the more fear began to creep into your mind. The possibility of losing Miles and Aaron. So many possibilities. Dear God, did it scare you.

You needed help. And you knew the Spider Society could help. But you were too prideful to go back to them. Selfish, you know.

You sighed and sat up from your bed. You grabbed your phone. Instantly greeted with your lockscreen of you and Miles. You stared at it for a moment. His smile. He was always the more joyful one between the two of you.

". . ."

You love Miles. You really do. But you just, can't physically bring yourself to reach out to the Society for help.