#I’m currently replaying it and I’m even more scared than before

[frombottlealleytotheharbor]

here’s 3 things from when I played re2 a year ago before I somehow glitched the game and got stuck at the helicopter that, I, personally, think are very leon coded

[themeraldee]

Hii can you do one where the reader rejects homelander because she’s married? He gets mad and obsessive??

Thank you for the ask! So originally I wasn't gonna do requests because I'm very particular about what strikes my fancy. But I'm nothing if not a people pleaser so your request got my head popping up with ideas as I've not really explored the 'loving someone to a fault' part of Homelander where things take a wild turn. So this is my humble attempt - hope you enjoy!

(Also I spat this out fairly quickly so it's not very well reviewed)

The Price of Love

[Masterlist]

18+ Only | 1.7k | Homelander x fem!Reader | Early Season 2. Voyeurism. Dark themes but nothing very specific. Homelander being his own warning. Mention of canon-level violence.

“What the fuck do you mean you’re married?!” Homelander sputters, caught totally off guard by your admission. His body language frazzled, his arms expressing confusion just as much as his words as his presence towers over you. 

You’ve been Ashley’s secretary for a few months now. At first he took no interest in the presence of yet another busybody without a name that was surely going to crack under the pressure and either leave or fuck up beyond repair resulting in your resignation. But no, you’ve proven yourself to be reliable, responsible and most importantly you’ve got a fucking spine in you. You don’t cower in fear, shake when you talk to him or let yourself get talked into a corner. He likes that. He really likes that. 

His preference for you has become so obvious that Ashley made you his go-to. Any news, good or bad, just went straight through you. And somehow, Homelander didn’t mind hearing that he dropped a point or two when it came from your lips.

That’s why he felt so blindsided by your outright rejection when he asked you out. What the fuck do you mean married?! 

“I mean I’m unavailable.” Homelander tightens his hand into a fist now that his arms fell back to rest next to his thighs. He hides the lapse of control behind his cape as he clasps both hands behind his back. At this point the pose has become a bit of a defense mechanism, nobody can touch or hurt him when he’s playing a hero. It’s a whole lot different when he pours his heart out to some fucking assistant just to get it stomped into the ground. 

“You’re not wearing a ring.” His tone is quiet, sharp. He nods his head towards the hand that’s currently clutching a stack of papers, the last thing you were meant to bring over before you clocked out. In Homelander’s eyes, it was the perfect time to ask you out. He’d take you out the same night. Michelin star restaurant, booked out just for the two of you. But no, you had to ruin his whole plan.

“I know, I’m sorry. I oftentimes leave it at home. I worry about it getting damaged or lost.” You clutch your papers closer to you, Homelander’s eyes lock onto your empty ring finger. It’s like you’re trying to hide it from him. The skin where your ring would be sat isn’t even smoothed out or marked in any way. So either it’s a recent marriage or you barely wear your ring as is. Homelander scoffs to himself, what kind of marriage is it if you’re not willing to shout about it from the rooftops. 

“I just—what? You’ve been fucking coming onto me for ages!” He wheezes out in part anger, part embarrassment. His eyes widen at first before squinting, his eyebrows furrowing with the action. In his head he replays all your interactions and he’s not fucking stupid. He’s the Homelander. There’s no one who can read people better than him.

“Sorry? I haven’t, or I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t trying to lead you on.” You take a step back. As much as this whole time Homelander’s been more than tolerating your presence, enjoying and looking forward to it even, now he’s acting like a whole kind of different animal. He takes one step in. Part of him relishes in the way your heart speeds up at the loud thud of his boot taking the one step closer to you. The other part of him doesn’t want you to be scared of him, just like you haven’t been this whole time, you’re meant to be his! 

He raises an eyebrow. 

“Lead me on?” 

“You know, make you think I’m interested when I’m not.” He nearly laughs. Not interested? Not fucking interested?! Give him a break. He might not have many experiences with the most genuine of relationships but he knows attraction when he sees one. He’s not stupid enough to mistake your professional kindness for attraction, it’s more than that. He’s sure of it. Your pulse still races anytime you’re in his vicinity, your pupils dilate, you smile all flustered and sweet when he pays you a compliment and there’s definitely times he’s managed to make you wet just by saying or doing the right thing. Someone who’s not interested wouldn’t be reacting like that. 

He pinches the bridge of his nose shaking his head. “Get out.” His voice rings loud and clear in the empty room. 

“Yes, sir. I’m really so sorry.” His teeth grind at the way you call him ‘sir’. A habit he’s weaned you off a long time ago. Yet there you go again, reverting back to factory settings as if you two didn’t have a whole load of history behind you. He watches you scamper off, the intrusive, violent part of him has an intense urge to laser you in half for making him feel this way.

But no, he knows there’s another way. First, he needs to get this energy out one way or another. And the last thing he wants to do is hurt you. 

Homelander waits till nightfall before flying around just to get his frustration out. First Madelyn, now you. What is it with women being dishonest with him! But no no no, you’re nothing like her. You do love him. You have to. He knows it. He can feel it. He just needs to nudge you in the right direction.

His thoughts get disrupted by a shrill scream coming from the alleyway below him. He pauses in the air, watching the situation with little initial interest. He lands on the building ledge where a man has a screaming woman pinned against the wall. He notices the light reflecting against the switchblade the criminal presses to her neck.

Well look at that, he can get his frustrations out and he’s gonna look like a hero. This night might just be turning around for him.

He leaves the bloody carnage behind, shaking some of the blood and viscera off his suit, bloody droplets hitting his boots instead. He’s so used to the copper tang of blood, at this point breathing it in is as natural to him as air. He’s just not particularly fond of the mess it creates.

But finally, after some physical relief, he grins to himself and with a clear head he can devise a plan on how to win you over. He’s the Homelander, who the fuck else could be more worthy of your love? 

Well… He’s about to find out.

Homelander takes off into the air, shooting up up up, until he finds a happy altitude where the air is just about getting thin, but more importantly where he’s unlikely to be recorded or photographed at this time of night.

He lands on the rooftop of the building opposite where you and your spouse reside. Bleugh. Your fucking spouse. Just the thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He was being patient with you. Wanted to take it the traditional way. Just like normal humans you’d meet at work, get chatting, get comfortable and start dating. So he gave you the benefit of your privacy. Wanted to see you naked for the first time when you’d undress for him. All pretty and sensual, giving him a good show. Now it’s biting him in the ass. If he wasn’t so chivalrous with you he would have long known that he’d need to get rid of the obstacle before he’d even ask you out. 

He watches through the building walls. He needs to see who, or what, has you so whipped that you wouldn’t immediately offer to get divorced just to go on a date with him. At the very least it better be some good sex.

He scans your meager one bedroom apartment. Your spouse is sound asleep in your shared bed but you’re nowhere to be seen. It’s not even that late in the night. Wouldn’t happily married couples be fucking through the night like rabbits at this hour? 

He lights up when he lands on the sight of you in your bathroom. Finally, some fucking reward. It’s the least he deserves after all that he’s been through. You’re submerged in your bathtub, the water level hitting halfway up your chest. You have the most pleased expression on your face, pure delight as you rest your head against the rim of the tub, eyes closed all dreamy. 

Homelander palms the front of his pants, feeling his cock immediately fill out at finally getting glimpses of your naked self. It’s only then he notices that you’re not just relaxing. No. Your hand is holding the shower head right in between your legs, letting the water pressure light up all your sensitive nerves. 

Then it clicks. He grins like he hasn’t in a long while. The pure satisfaction of being right. You’re not satisfied. You can’t be. It’s obvious you desperately need to escape this situation. You need him. 

He carelessly unfastens his pants, surprising even himself that he doesn’t manage to rip them in half as he eagerly grips his hard cock. He strokes it harder than he ever has before, the blood on his glove just easing the glide of the harsh pace he sets himself. Homelander almost chokes on air as he watches you arch your back and whimper quietly, clearly hiding your little indulgent fantasy from your spouse. 

He wishes he could tell you it’s alright, your spouse is dead asleep. They won’t notice. They clearly don’t care. He does. And that’s all that matters, you have his attention. You have an audience of one. 

He doesn’t care what the reason is. There’s no reason in his book that would justify your spouse leaving you this dissatisfied that you have to get yourself off behind closed doors and not with their help. 

He’s so worked up, riding the roller coaster of wildly contrasting emotions, from heart-break to euphoria, that it doesn’t take long for him to feel breathless, panting as he strokes himself to the image of you all wet, pleasured and relaxed. What really does him in, unexpectedly is the whispering plea leaving your lips. ‘Homelander.’

And just like that he cums hard, not caring where his load ends up, his grin never leaving his face as he watches you reach your sweet, sweet release.

He has to have you.

[Part 2]

Taglist (you can add yourself to be notified anytime I publish a new Homelander story)

[logansargeantsbabymom]

Anyone but me

Insecure!Logan x Fem!Reader

warnings: Cursing, Insecure Logan

A/N: Here’s something short, I wasn’t gonna post since today makes 10 years since my grandpa passed but I didn’t wanna make today abt me. Enjoy.

F1 Masterlist

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

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Another race. Miami had been another race this season that has been shit for Logan. Why was something always fucking it up for him?

First they gave him shitty cars, then whenever they did give Logan a somewhat good car, he wasn’t driving it the way he should, then they gave away his car to Alex after he crashed his. Now he had to retire the car because KMag decided to crash into him?

It’s almost lil the universe is against Logan and his time in Formula 1, which might I add is utter bullshit.

Logan hasn’t been the best driver and I knew that, but I didn’t fall in love with him because he’s a formula 1 driver, no, I fell in love with him because he’s always been there for me even when he was going through his own problems and has never once complained about it (him being a famous driver was just a perk).

Logan and I have been together for just over 2 years which means I’ve seen the best and worst of his career, but right now after he got hit at his home race was heart wrenching.

I stood by the tv screens that showed his camera footage live from his car and my hands shot up to my face when I saw the impact of the crash. The crash wasn’t what made my heart shatter for him though, no, instead it was the live radio feed from him to pit that I was currently listening to.

His groans of pain and the tremble in his voice asking if he did anything wrong was what hurt. He was so worried and scared that he fucked up something whilst driving that he didn’t pay attention to whether or not he was hurt.

They replayed that crash maybe a dozen times and each time felt like it stung worse than the previous one before it. I watched as they got the track clear from any debris and brought Logan and the car back to the Williams garage. The look of red eyes and tear stained cheeks was the sight I was greeted with.

I would’ve done anything to take his pain away in that moment. Hell, I would do anything to make sure he never felt pain again. But unfortunately, I can’t. So I had to suffice for the next best thing, comforting him.

I walked over to him and the second he turned and saw me walking over with a somber look on my face he rushed into my arms, pulling me into a tight embrace before absolutely sobbing.

The team around us walked off allowing us a moment of peace while I comforted my boyfriend. His face was in the crook of my neck as he shook with violent sobs and I rubbed my hands up and down his back trying to soothe the ache in his heart.

“Logan you did amazing, it wasn’t your fault. I’m so proud of you. You’ve come so far, I love you so much” I whispered in his ear as I kissed the side of his head.

We stayed like this for a moment, as Logan continued to sob I continued to try to soothe him and murmur sweet nothings in his ear with more small kisses on his head.

After a moment or two, I felt Logan pull away before he looked me in my eyes. I could tell he wanted to say something.

“What happened, Baby?” I whisper as I bring my hands up to his face to wipe his tears away

“I don’t deserve you.” He whispers, his voice breaking again as he moves my hands from his face

“Lo, don’t” I say, tears of my own springing in my eyes

“No Y/N/N, please. I don’t deserve you. I’m not good enough, you deserve to be with someone who wins and makes podiums. Not me, someone who finishes last or doesn’t finish at all.” by the time Logan was done berating himself, I was the one sobbing.

“Logan Hunter Sargeant. Stop talking like that. You’re the best thing to ever happen to me. There was before you, during you, and I never want there to be an after you. I have never loved anyone more than I love you. My heart is so filled with happiness and you’re the reason. You’re the reason I’m still alive today, I have the best life right now and it’s because of you. So please don’t break my heart because you feel like I don’t deserve you, because I never want to live without you. So unless you’re unhappy in our relationship, we are not breaking up. Are you unhappy with us?” Tears were falling like waterfalls from both of our eyes.

“No, I love you too much. I just don’t want you to be with a loser like me” My hands shot up to his face and I made him look at me

“Stop it, I’m not leaving you. I’m staying with you whether you win 100 grand prixs, 1 or none. I’m here until the Lord takes me from this earth. I promise” I said as I placed a sweet and sincere kiss on his lips before we rested our foreheads together

“I’m here always and forever”

taglist

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal @kazza72584 @zabwlky1999 @dark-night-sky-99

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Not You

Sam and Dean Winchester x little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: A few times your big brother Dean scares you.

Your big brother Dean would do anything for you, you knew that. He’d practically raised you, taking care of you when John wasn’t able to. He loved you and Sam more than anything, and you felt the same way about him.

But that didn’t change the fact that sometimes, Dean scared you.

…

You were hunkered down in the back of the Impala while Sam and Dean yelled at each other outside about their new buddy, Gordon.

You didn’t like Gordon, he freaked you out. And while Dean seemed to trust him completely, Sam was more on your side; hence their argument.

You couldn’t hear what they were saying, and you honestly didn’t care that much. That is, until Dean reared back his fist and punched Sam square in the face.

You scrambled to get out of the car before you noticed that Sam didn’t try to reciprocate. They exchanged a few more heated words before finally heading towards the Impala.

You were quiet that night, even after the vampires and Gordon had been taken care of. Your mind replayed the image of Dean punching your brother over and over again.

You felt ridiculous, lingering over something that even Sam seemed to have forgotten. But you couldn’t help but imagine that kind of anger directed at you. If he hit Sam—the brother that had been inseparable to him since basically birth—what did that mean for the others around him?

“Hey kid,” Dean’s voice startled you out of your thoughts. “I’m going for a supply run, wanna come with?”

“N-no I’m good,” you cursed the stutter that came out and forced yourself to calm down. You were only freaked because you’d been thinking about the punch, not because you were actually scared of Dean…

Right?

Your thoughts had once again distracted you, so when Dean made his next move you did something unexpected.

Dean raised a hand to run it through his hair, and your body reacted instinctively, following your current state of mind. You visibly flinched back, away from Dean, and it didn’t go unnoticed. Both Dean and Sam—who had looked up to watch the exchange at the wrong moment—noticed your reaction, and they responded in very different ways.

Dean seemed to freeze, his brows drawing together. Sam on the other hand reacted immediately, standing and taking Baby’s keys from Dean’s hand.

“Actually, I’ll go on the supply run. I need some air anyway, you two hang out here.”

He was gone before either sibling could protest.

The silence stretched on for several long minutes before you realized the problem. You were waiting for Dean to bring up what had happened, and he was waiting for you to bring it up. Considering how stubborn you both were, this could go on forever, so you decided to speak first.

“Why did you hit Sam?”

“Is that why you…” you dropped your gaze to your hands when Dean trailed off. “Hey,” he knelt beside the bed you were sitting on, his face flooding your vision. “C’mon, use your words.”

“Yes.”

“Don’t you do that,” Dean demanded, his hand coming up to your shoulder. “Don’t be scared of me, not you. Not ever, I-I can’t…” Dean swallowed. “Don’t you ever be scared of me. I would never hurt you.”

“You hit Sam,” you argued.

“Sam’s different,” he insisted.

“Why?”

“Well for one, Sam’s not a kid, ok? He’s bigger than me, he can take a hit.”

When you didn’t respond, he sighed.

“Look, I shouldn’t have hit Sam, ok? But things are going on right now, things I’d rather not explain. But I promise you, I’m never gonna hurt you. Can you just trust me on that?”

“Ok,” you muttered. I can do that.”

…

You were huddled on Bobby’s couch, your knees curled up to your chest as you pretended not to hear the sounds coming from downstairs.

Your big brothers had caught a demon that could lead them to Crowley, and unfortunately he didn’t feel like talking.

Dean had managed to get a few words out of the guy, so Sam and Bobby were following up on that lead, but it wasn’t enough.

You were so wound up that when your phone rang you nearly fell off the couch. You answered when you saw Sam’s name on the screen.

“Did you find anything?”

“Not quite,” Sam sighed. “I need to talk to Dean, but he left his phone here in the Impala. Can you get him?”

“You-you want me to…” you swallowed down the protest that you desperately wanted to make. “Um, ok, I’ll-I’ll go get him.”

You put Sam on mute as you padded down the stairs towards the sound of the demon screaming.

You hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, your body unwilling to move forwards. Frozen to the spot, you were forced to take in the scene in front of you. Dean, a knife glinting in his hands, had blood running down his arms and splattered on his shirt.

The demon was strapped down to a chair on top of a devil’s trap, bleeding from various cuts, his face steaming from the holy water Dean had just dumped on him.

But worse than the gruesome scene in front of you was the twisted smirk on Dean’s face as he splashed holy water onto his knife and sliced into the demon’s arm, causing more screaming. As soon as the screams died down, you were about to make your presence known when the demon suddenly caught sight of you. His wicked grin alerted Dean, and he turned to see what the demon was looking at.

Your breath caught in your throat as you took an unconscious step back. Upon seeing you, Dean’s features softened almost instantly, but that didn’t take away what you’d seen. His mouth was still twisted in that awful grin, and to have it directed at you was even worse. The scariest thing though, was his eyes. They weren’t angry, which would’ve been scary enough.

There was a cool, harsh indifference in his eyes, as though he could just as easily shake your hand as cut off your head.

But when he saw you, a light seemed to enter his eyes, and the smirk dropped, but the ghost of those twisted featured lingered.

“You shouldn’t be down here,” Dean muttered as he stepped close to you.

“Sa-Sammy called,” you mumbled nervously, holding up the phone.

Dean snatched up a wet rag from a metal table next to him, wiping some of the blood off his hands and taking your phone, but not before noticing how your outstretched hand was shaking. He followed your gaze to the demon behind him, who was watching your exchange with that awful grin on his face. When Dean turned back to you, though, he saw that you were now looking at him.

He couldn’t decide whether the terror in your eyes was because of him, or the demon.

Dean leaned down and kissed the top of your head. “Go back upstairs.”

You gripped onto his arm, trying desperately to find comfort in the familiar gesture.

When he pulled away, you looked up into his eyes, trying to erase the memory of what you’d seen there.

“Don’t,” you were surprised at the strain in Dean’s voice. “Don’t look at me like that. Not you.”

You didn’t have to ask what he meant. You lurched forward suddenly, wrapping your arms around your big brother, ignoring the blood on his jacket. He reciprocated, and the feeling of his strong arms around you abated your fear. It didn’t matter what he’d done to that demon, Dean was still just Dean.

Dean was safe.

…

“Alright, I’m gonna go in. You wait here.”

“Are you insane?” You scoffed as Sam stepped out of the car. “It’s Dean, I’m coming.”

“We don’t know what he is right now, so no, you’re not.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“You saw the black eyes, Y/N. It’s not just Dean anymore. Now I mean it, stay in the car, I’ll be out with him soon.”

As Sam closed his door and walked into the bar, you reached down to unbuckle your seat belt.

“If you wanted me to stay away, you should’ve left me at the bunker.”

…

You couldn’t help it. When you saw Dean for the first time in months, your body grew a mind of its own.

“Dean!” Your features lifted in a grin as you rushed towards your big brother. All the air left your body in a huff when Sam’s arm shot out to stop you, wrapping around your waist.

“What’s the matter, Sammy?” Dean smirked. “Don’t trust me?”

That was when you really took in the scene. Dean looked…different. Like, not Dean. It wasn’t the same as when you’d seen him torturing that demon, it wasn’t just a coldness or a harshness, it was a different person.

But what stood out to you more was Sam. His arm was tight around you, before he maneuvered you behind him. His whole body was between you and Dean, one hand on your arm to be sure you were there, and the other just slightly jutting out in front of him. You knew that stance well; it was his Protective Mode, for whenever he thought there was an imminent, real danger.

And he was using it to keep you away from Dean. That scared you more than anything.

“Go back outside,” Sam ignored Dean’s remark, speaking to you but not taking his eyes off Dean.

“You shouldn’t have brought her here, Sammy,” Dean scoffed. “You know she can never resist her favorite big brother. Even when she was scared of me, she always liked me better than you.”

“Dean stop it,” you stepped around Sam, but he grabbed your arms and held you back.

“Y/N go outside,” Sam grunted.

“Dean, just come home with us,” you stopped fighting Sam, but kept your gaze on Dean.

“My home isn’t with you anymore, baby,” you nearly cringed when Dean’s favorite nickname for you came out in a way that was so obviously not Dean. “Now listen to Sammy so the grown ups can talk.”

“Dean-“

“Hey,” you were suddenly jerked around as Sam twisted you to face him. “I need you to go.”

Nothing less than the absolute terror on Sam’s face would’ve made you relent, but relent you did.

…

“I want you to stay out of there until this is over,” Sam stared you down.

“Is it that bad?”

“We’re gonna fix it, ok?” Sam sighed. “We’ve got the blood and everything, I just need you to stay away from him until it’s done.”

You nodded up at him, and he disappeared into the bunker’s dungeon.

With nothing to do, you found yourself wandering into Dean’s bedroom. You’d been doing that a lot since he’d left, finding the space comforting, as it was so very Dean.

However today was not a day that you would find comfort here. You’d been waiting in there for only an hour or so when you heard it. Or rather, him.

“Come on, Sammy! Don’t you wanna see your big brother?”

Your blood ran cold as you heard Dean’s not-so-subtle approach come closer and closer to you. What was he doing?

You didn’t have much time to wonder, because the footsteps echoing through the hall suddenly stopped outside your door.

What was he doing? If he didn’t want to be here, why didn’t he just leave?

You shouldn’t have stopped to wonder, but you’d promised yourself a long time ago that you’d always trust Dean, so the possibilities of what he really wanted hadn’t even crossed your mind when the door suddenly flew open.

Dean stood there, a hammer gripped in his hand as he stepped inside his old room.

“Hey little sister,” a sickening smirk spread across his face. “I was expecting Sammy, but I suppose I can take care of you first.”

Before you knew what was happening, you were flat on your back, the flat top of the hammer pressed against your throat.

You gasped for a breath, and were horrified when no air came through.

“St-st-st-“ it was no use, you couldn’t speak.

“What was that?” Suddenly the pressure on your neck lessened, but the hammer still was still touching your neck, like some kind of sick reminder that he could cut your air off again at any time.

“If you wanna leave, just leave,” you whimpered.

“Oh baby, I don’t wanna leave. Not yet. See, after what he tried to do to me, Sam’s as good as dead. But first, I’m gonna show him exactly where pissing me off gets him.”

“M-meaning?” You weren’t sure you wanted to know.

“Meaning you’re going first. But before that, you’re gonna get Sammy over here so he can watch.”

Your eyes drifted to your pocket where your phone was.

“Oh no baby, you won’t need that to get him here,” Dean leaned back, lifting the hammer.

“De-“ your plea broke off in a shriek when the blunt object slammed down on your hand. White hot pain shot up you arm, and the edges of your vision started to go fuzzy, black tinging the corners.

“Hey!” A harsh slap across your face brought focus back to your eyes. “Don’t you pass out on me baby, I want Sam to hear you scream.”

“Please,” you sobbed. “Dean, don’t do this to me. Not you. Don’t you do this. Not you, please!”

“Dean!”

“Hey Sammy,” Dean didn’t even turn around at the sound of Sam’s voice.

“Dean, get away from her,” you craned your neck to see Sam standing in the doorway, the demon blade clutched in his hand.

“Or what? You gonna kill me, Sammy?” Dean kept his eyes on you as he spoke to Sam, a cocky grin splitting his face. “I don’t think you have it in you.”

Sam took a half step forwards, but stopped when Dean raised the hammer, barely sparing a glance at Sam

“Uh-uh. I can bring this down on her skull faster than you can reach me, and you know I will.”

“Ok, ok,” Sam lowered the knife as he sidestepped further into the room and into Dean’s line of sight. “Just let her go man. This is between you and me.”

“I don’t think so, Sammy. You brought her into this, and now I want you to watch her die.”

“Dean,” you grabbed onto Dean’s arm, once again gaining his attention. “Dean you don’t have to do this. Come on, it’s me, you-you can’t…” you shake your head. “Th-this isn’t you, you wouldn’t do this.”

“Oh baby it is me,” you whimpered as Dean leaned down to whisper in your ear. “And you should’ve stayed scared of me.”

Dean twisted the hammer in his hand, raising it up for the fatal blow.

You closed your eyes, blocking out the vision of Dean’s pit-black eyes as you waited for the blow.

You kept your eyes closed until you heard Dean cry out, and suddenly his weight was lifted off you. You looked up to see Castiel dragging Dean back, who was fighting tooth-and-nail, a horrible screeching-like scream coming from him.

“It’s over,” Castiel grunted. “It’s over.”

…

Once Dean was secured back in the dungeon, Castiel healed your broken hand before going to help Sam in curing Dean.

As soon as he was clean and out of the dungeon, you didn’t waste a second, running into his waiting arms.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he breathed.

“It’s ok, Dean.”

“No, no it’s not,” he insisted, pulling away. “It’s…it was…” Dean lowered his gaze, unable to look you in the eye.

Not having it, you ducked your head lower so that your face flooded his vision, and he finally met your gaze again.

“Not you. It was not you.”

[httpscomexe]

Forbidden Secret Desire 7

Summary: He’s hunting you, even after time passes, and you think you’re free, he never stops hunting you.

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Logan Howlett x Reader (Y/N)

Warnings: Human hunting, past kidnapping, injuries, blood, guns, shooting, non-con, smut, pv, murder, descriptions of death, stalking, descriptions of death, death, non-religious beliefs of after death, Logan Howlett (Individual warnings per chapter)

Tags: @remmyj10 @sammyluvsfics @badbishsblog @cellyx33 @chxrrybomb22 @bitchidontpost

Word Count: 2329 (Find all chapters here)

P.S. If you’d like to be tagged, ask in the comments, you also have permission to send an ask, but make sure it is NOT anonymous, so I know your username, don’t worry, I’m scared of confrontation too. But this is a SAFE SPACE where I will not judge. Thank you again.

P.P.S. I wrote this really fast cause I wanted to get FSD over with.

Enjoy your Forbidden Secret Desire.

You don’t know what you expected when he said hunting, but it wasn’t this.

You had woken up sooner than he expected you to, so he was still out running errands. The only reason you knew that was because after yelling and screaming off the top of your lungs for thirty minutes, there was no response.

You sniffle, holding back tears, which you were honestly embarrassed about, even if you were the only one in the cabin.

You stretch, and your head throbbed in pain. You weren’t sure what time it was, or how long Logan had been gone, but you needed to get out of there. He didn’t even tie you down to your surprise. Your limbs were completely free. You suppose he expected to be back before you woke up, but you couldn’t waste anymore time.

You step off the bed, every movement hurts every nerve in your body, but you need to run. Placing your hand on the door handle, you prepare yourself to dart straight into the woods, and not stop until you find another person, someone to hopefully save you. Although, you weren’t too sure if someone would freak out and hand you over the second they see Wolverine on your tail. Nobody wants 3-6 long sharp claws lodged inside their throat.

You know the second you open the door, a notification will be sent to his phone, telling him the ‘backdoor’ has been opened. To which he would come home as soon as he saw it.

So the plan was to just dart outside, hope the snow isn’t too thick anymore, and run. And you aren’t too sure what happened, but instead of darting into the woods, you freeze in the doorframe. There was basically a fucking blizzard outside. The wind was howling, the sound of air and the door alarm were both filling your ears and crowding your brain.

Then your stomach drops.

The sound of his truck rolling into the driveway was enough to get you running, straight into the woods, and only then do you realise your feet were completely naked, no shoes. You skin was only covered by your thin black socks, which were quickly bundling up snow on the fabric with each step you took.

You were sure he was already chasing you, the only difference between the two of you is he was sure to be wearing clothes more suitable for the weather, whereas you were in socks and an oversized shirt, the rest of you uncovered and free to the cold as you ran.

Then you hear a clicking sound. Followed by a loud boom and wood chips from the tree you just ran by blowing into your face.

“Shit!” You scream, protecting your face with your hands. He has the fucking hunting rifle. You realise, but you don’t stop running.

“I’ll be back tomorrow, Y/N.” You remember his words as adrenaline runs through your body. “Then I’ll take you hunting, I’m sure you’ll have fun.” It felt like a kiss from a cactus when he pressed his lips to your cheek. “Behave.”

Hunting.

You replay the word in your head.

He’s hunting you.

But there was no time to think. There was another boom, a sharp pain grazing your skin as you leaped a little to your side, surprising yourself as you kept your balance. Your heart was racing, adrenaline keeping the blistering pain of the cold away from your feet and the painful drip of blood on your leg out of your brain. You didn’t have time to process the pain, not when you had an animal chasing you with a shotgun. And he seemed pretty intent on killing you.

You turn, hoping to lose him through some trees, and it seems to work as you hear the patter of his shoes crunching snow start to slow down. He was searching for you. No.

He was smelling for you.

You bend down, grabbing some snow with your hand quickly to wipe the blood off of your skin while still skipping, never stopping your movements as you quickly but quietly run past him.

If you had any luck finding another person, it would be down the driveway to the house. It would be a long run, but it was your best bet.

The cabin comes back into view, its shape taunting you as you get closer and closer, but you don’t run inside. You run around the side of the house, and you make your way to dark down the driveway until you would reach a main road.

But again.

You stop. Staring at the key in the engine of his truck with the door sitting open. He must’ve left it like that when he saw the notification on his phone, his priority was to find you.

You make a line for the truck, the gas tank was about half full and it was still running. Closing the door and pulling it out of park, you reverse and quickly drive down the little road leading up to the house.

You made it.

It wasn’t nearly as painful or hard as you expected it to be. You actually made it. You got away from him.

Crying happy tears, you make your way down the twisted road, the snow slightly blocking your vision but you don’t care, you weren’t stopping for anything.

Not even the man in his red flannel as he jumps out onto the road, colliding with the front of the truck, making you slam on the breaks, hoping you didn’t run over some random dude.

Then he stands up, and brings his rifle into view, shooting a clear round straight through the windshield, and you duck just in time, already pressing down on the gas again without looking out at the dirt road until you were sure it was safe to. Looking in the rear view mirror, he was standing there, the most defeated look you’ve ever seen written on his face as he breathed heavily, soon turning to walk back up to the house.

There was no way he would just let you go, right?

7 months had passed.

You hadn’t seen Logan since the day at the cabin, and you haven’t even gotten rid of his truck. It was still sitting in the garage of your new home, occasionally being worked on by your fiance.

Xavier has tried getting ahold of you a few times, wondering what’s going on and why you want nothing to do with the X mansion suddenly, but you don’t bother answering any questions, instead, you hang up, blocking the number and forgetting about him completely.

You had better things in life now to deal with.

A minimum wage job as a barista, serving coffee to people rude and nice, a simple, cheap apartment, right next to just about the noisiest neighbour. A cat, his name is Gus, and he absolutely hates anything you do, knocking everything you place on the counter down onto the ground, including coffee, which quickly stains the carpet, making you have to get onto your knees, scrubbing the living hell out of the carpet to avoid fees. Your fiance was unemployed, and you weren’t exactly sure how the fuck you were even affording the apartment anymore. He would just stay home on the couch, watching TV and occasionally being nice enough to buy groceries and make you dinner.

Yea. Sometimes you wish you had stayed with Logan. Of course, you’d probably still be 3 months pregnant. But at least you’d be better off living. And Logan likes to work, so he definitely wouldn’t be sitting on the couch watching football while you’re cooking dinner after a 12-hour shift and a rude 70-year-old customer who covered you in the ‘wrong coffee.’

Now you were in the shower, letting warm water run down your body. It wouldn’t be a long shower of course, considering Jake had already wasted a shit ton of hot water on his own shower, no having any consideration for the bill.

And as you’re in your head, not a single thought running through your brain, you’re suddenly pulled out. A crashing sound of something falling over is what catches your attention, making you turn off the water in the shower.

“Jake?” You call out. No answer. You groan, stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around your body before pulling the door open. “Jake? What happened? What did you drop?” Still no answer. You step out further, and you don’t see anything. Everything's in place except for the lamp on the side of the bed where Jake was lying down before you got in the shower. You assume that’s what had fallen.

You walk around the side of the bed, expecting to see Gus lying there with a broken lamp. That cat was an ass, but he was still your baby.

Except that’s not at all what you see when you walk around the bed.

Instead, Jake is lying on the floor. The cord of the lamp tied so tight around his throat that his skin was plumping up and turning red, a few more minutes and his head would surely pop off. But that isn’t what had you scared. The jaw dropping discovery was the three stab marks, each lined up on his abdomen, blood seeping through his clothes and onto the carpet. Even in death, he was still a fucking pain.

“Not the time for jokes.” You tell yourself, then quickly grab whatever clothes your hands find first, you have to get out of there.

He found you.

“You’re in a rush.” You freeze, not even getting the chance to drop your towel as his familiar voice rings in your ears. “It’s not because of me, is it?” In the corner of your eye, he approaches you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. “Right?” You shake your head, goosebumps running through your skin as he whispers against your ear. “Good.” He groans, his body pushing yours against the dresser. “It’s been a while. Didn’t you miss me?” He turns you around, making you face him, and you bite your lip, too scared to answer. “How about… A welcome back gift? Just for me?” His hands move up, fingers grabbing the ends of the towel still wrapped around your body in an attempt to pull it down, but you finally move, grabbing his wrists firmly to stop him. “Don’t. Fucking. Touch me.” He growls, shaking your hands off of him before finally ripping the towel off your body. “You’ve gotten chubby…” His hands move to cup your ass, and he lifts you against him, forcing your legs around his waist before he walks you over to the bed, throwing you onto the mattress.

You watch as he wordlessly undoes his jeans, pulling down the zipper and unbuttoning the denim with urgency before quickly moving between your legs, not even bothering to undress completely. He wanted you to feel exposed.

He lifts your hips, and waste no time as he pushes inside of you, a pained moan coming from your throat as he quickly begins thrusting inside of you, groans and curses spilling from his lips as one of his hands holds your throat and the other keeps you still.

“That’s it baby, fuck such a good girl.” He mutters, hips still rocking into yours.

Your hands find his, wrapping your fingers around his wrist as he squeezes your throat, leaving little to no room for breathing.

He thrusts harder and faster as you try urging him to stop, and his other hand moves from your hip to the matress, his knuckles pressed flat on the bed as he rams into you, his speed increasing as he feels your walls clench around his cock. Your eyes rolling in your head as it rolls back, the movements painful from the loss of oxygen as your face turns red and you begin to lose consciousness. But he doesn’t stop, he just moves faster into you, pumping with no remorse. He only wanted to get back at you, he was mad at you for running, but you’d be dead if you hadn’t those 6 months ago.

“L-Lo-gan.” You cough out his name, the supply of air to your lungs now completely gone. All that was left was the blood in your chest and the air in your veins which was also quickly being taken from you.

“Shut the fuck up…” He groans, and his hips begin to stagger, his movements becoming less urgent as he finishes, his seed spilling inside of you as he also forces you to cum, and you hear the sound of metal as his claws suddenly shoot through your mattress, leaving 3 holes beside your head, but that was the least of your worries.

You were more worried if he was going to stop.

When you were dead that is.

Your eyes face into a black state of unconsciousness, your body spasming underneath his as your body tries hard, fighting to breathe, but no supply comes as his fingers wrap tighter around your throat, trapping you in a breathless state.

It wouldn’t matter if you had died, and it didn’t  matter to you what he did to your body when you were dead. All that was running through your mind is what would’ve happened if you didn’t run.

If you had just behaved, would he had still left you alive?

Would he love you, and treat you like you were actually his romantic partner?

Or would none of that matter…?

You wonder.

Choking on nothing as your eyes finally close, and you drift into unconsciousness.

Then there’s nothing.

Not even a black void of incomprehension.

No screaming souls, gate to heaven, or depths of hell.

There’s nothing.

Something not even the most complicated cerebrum of any human biology would ever be able to comprehend.

You were dead.

[mitsuyeaah]

Hi Mitsu! Thinking about Sanzu more recently (thanks to you). How do you think he'd react if the two of you had been daring for a few months and your ex boyfriend suddenly comes back into town? And like, you don't necessarily want to get back with him or anything, but there is still... chemistry.

A LINGERING CONNECTION

syn: your ex-boyfriend is back in town, and sanzu—your current boyfriend, senses a lingering connection between you and your previous lover.

TR ft. SANZU (+ MIKEY)

cw: jealous!sanzu, ex-boyfriend!manjiro, slight angst (?), sanzu being a sulky baby :(

a/n: helloooo i love this idea so much!! thank you for sending this in bb <3 also, hehe i’m glad you are influenced by my sanzu brainrot

₊✮⸜ ༘⋆

— gets VERY sulky about it. sanzu knows that you belong to one another but he can’t shake the feeling that he might lose you, especially given the obvious chemistry between you and your past lover. this causes him to become insecure, and sulky. sanzu gets jealous because your ex lover seems to know you more than he does, and he starts questioning himself with his relationship with you. unpretty thoughts swirling inside his pretty head.

“i knew it was you! how could i ever forget someone as unforgettable as you!” there, stood in front of you, your ex-boyfriend—manjiro sano. his face was still the same, handsome as ever. though, his hair was now dyed onyx which matched his alluring eyes. your eyes widened at the man in front of you, a huge smile forming upon your lips, “manjiro, oh my goodness! i didn’t expect to see you here!”

you and sanzu were at the local convenience store buying essentials when you happen to bump into none other than your past lover. you felt nothing when you saw him, of course. your heart didn’t skip a beat, and there wasn’t a nasty sting on your tongue as his name rolled off it anymore. you were just excited to see him back in your hometown, after all, he was your best friend before you gave each other your hearts.

sanzu awkwardly stood there, his slender fingers tightening around the handle of the shopping basket as he watched your face light up with joy. he didn’t know who manjiro was, nor have you told him anything about the man but by the looks of it, the two of you seemed very close. although, there was a hint of hesitancy—something that told him there was a beautifully tragic past between the two of you.

sanzu tried tuning out the entire conversation you had with manjiro. he stood there, unmoving. it was like you and manjiro were in your own world—finishing each other’s sentences, laughing at an inside joke, him asking how your parents were. there was chemistry between the two of you. the kind that made his own heart sink, and his thoughts race. sanzu felt like a sore thumb sticking out. the odd one out. it didn’t help with the fact that the man in front of him barely even batted an eye at sanzu like he didn’t existed.

the exchange was a whole blur for sanzu. he didn’t forget the way he shook manjiro’s hand when you finally got around to introducing him. the way the man’s hand tightened ever so slightly around his hand. and after finding out that manjiro was your ex-boyfriend, his mind took a turn. the scene from the convenience store replayed in his head—the way you and manjiro clicked just like that after years of no contact, the way your personalities seemed to effortlessly compliment one another.

it wasn’t supposed to scare him but it did. he also wasn’t reassured with the fact that manjiro was back in town for good, meaning you would bump into your past lover more than sanzu wanted. the second you revealed manjiro was your ex, you didn’t miss the way the sparkle in sanzu’s cerulean eyes disappeared. you were quick to reassure him that you saw manjiro as nothing but an old friend. it was true. your heart and soul belonged sanzu and no one else.

but despite the amount of reassurance you gave him, it seemed to enter through one ear and leave through the other. “you two seemed to have some chemistry back there..” sanzu let out an empty chuckle, his eyes glued to his hands on his lap. “sanzu..” “i’m sorry. i know i shouldn’t even be feeling this way but i just can’t help it.. it makes me wonder if i’m even good enough for you after seeing you dated someone like him.”

his mind was never kind to him in situations like this, his thoughts fuelling his sulky behaviour but you were ready to show him that he was the one who owned your heart. not manjiro, not anyone else because you couldn’t have asked for more.

© mitsuyeaah

[vctrvn-ls]

treat me better p4

———————————————————————

sharky x reader

———————————————————————

There’s always a way to forget about a person. 

Some people focus on themselves, some start a spiritual journey or something like that and others look for other people.

You also had a way to forget about people. For one night at least.

And there were only three things you needed:

dance floor

alcohol 

lots of alcohol

Currently you were doing just that. Forgetting a person. You were on the dance floor with a scary amount of alcohol in you. You and Kenny were having the time of your lives, the two of you were probably the drunkest out of everyone here. Nella decided not to intervene, as long as you were having fun she thought.

You and Kenny bounced around, singing, no, more like yelling the lyrics to every dirty Weeknd song that came up. You spun each other round, scream-sang in each others faces and overall did some really energetic and weird shit.

While you were totally gone, Sharky was bitterly spectating from a dark corner. He was sober and sour. He just kept replaying the idea that he didn’t care about who you were dancing with or doing whatever in his head. 

It was easy for him to tell you to stay away from him. But he wasn’t sure if he could do the same.

“THIS IS SOOOO FUN!” You yelled out to Kenny.

“I KNOW RIGHT!?” He replied even louder.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I LOVE YOUUUUU!”

“THANK YOUUUU!”

“HEY DO YOU WAN-” your yelling was cut off by an unexpected sensation of Kenny’s lips on yours and his hands on your hips.

You were shocked at first, but the alcohol covered that shock with fake but quick surging lust.

Somewhere in the crowed Nella was paying attention to everything, watching you and Sharky at the same time. The audible gasp she let out when she saw you and Kenny making out made Niko turn around from beside her.

“What?” He said with his mouth full of food.

She pointed.

“Holy shi-” he began coughing on the crumbs he accidentally inhaled.

Nella glanced at Sharky who had the stupidest expression on his face. His eyebrows were furrowed but his face looked more disgusted than mad.

“Get them off eachother before Sharks sees!” Niko blurted.

“Yeah, he’s already on it.” Nella murmured, but Niko heard her.

“Fuck.” 

Meanwhile you and Kenny were almost getting your clothes off. You were just beginning to slip your hand underneath his shirt when suddenly you felt yourself getting yanked backwards by your shoulders. 

Everything went sort of blurry after that and the next place you found yourself at was back in the hookah room.

“What the…” you squinted, looking around.

“Nice one.” Sharky whispered behind you.

You jumped up on the spot from the scare.

“Sharky,” you said. Your tone was innocent.

“The hell was that?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

“I’m nooot,” you whined drunkly.

“I tell you to stay away from me so you decide to make a move on my friend? Real mature, real mature.”

“Shut up,” your words were coming out slurred and messy “Kenny’s hot.” You grinned to yourself.

Sharky rolled his eyes.

“Whaaat? Don’t be jealous,” you shoved him playfully on the shoulder.

“I’m not.” He said seriously, despite you obviously playing around.

“You don’t actually care,” you laughed, fixing a strand of loose hair.

“Yeah, I don’t.” It didn’t sound convincing.

You tried to fix the strand of hair but it kept falling back. You sat there pulling at the strand until Sharky snapped “Fucking stop,” he made a haste move towards you, but the way he fixed your hair was plausibly delicate. You locked eyes with him. They were so dark and beautiful, you haven’t seen them this close in ages.

A sudden wave of sadness hit you as you remembered the whole situation that was happening between you and Sharky. 

Your eyes filled up with tears.

“W-why are you crying?” He asked, taken aback by your quick change of mood.

“You’re mean,” you sobbed, wiping your eyes “I don’t like you.”

Sharky watched you closely.

“A-and you don’t love me, you argue with me,” you fiddled with the bottom of your dress.

Sharky wanted to remain cold but he already broke his ‘mysterious uncaring’ character after intervening in what happened on the dance floor.

He sighed as you continued to sniff in front of him.

He felt sorry for you, but also mad at you. You and Kenny? He just couldn’t understand why you did what you did.

“Hey, I’m sorry ok? Now please stop crying.”

You looked up at him with glassy eyes.

He groaned, rolling his eyes and pulling you into a hug. 

It was more of an instinct for him. It felt right.

You smiled to yourself as your cheek rested on his chest. You could hear his heartbeat, smell the familiar scent of his cologne and the feeling of his fingers gently gliding up and down your bare arm made your stomach tingle. 

———————————————————————

[yourmoonmomma]

Hi!

I’ll definitely consider changing therapists! thank you for the suggestion. I’ll give it another session to see how I feel and then look elsewhere if needed.

Therapy is strange..Idk I’ve always been comfortable with my emotions (it took a lot of internal work during my younger years). But, when it comes to therapy, I struggle to get words out and I’m really panicky. I’m not sure if this is because every time I would show emotions with my ex he’d tell me I was living in my head or just bringing up the past? I cried so much during the relationship when he would get really distant, and I just remember him just watching me. No words, nothing. He would say it killed him inside but idk actions will always be more valuable than words.

Continuing on from that point. Lately I’ve been feeling like it was all my fault, that I was the one who treated him badly. Every time we’d argue it was always because I bought something up and we’d go in this cycle. But he was a good guy, kind, loyal, and I think he tried. This ofc, just makes me feel like trash because maybe I didn’t appreciate him? I see things on social media like “if your ex did any of these things you deserve better” and it’s stuff like cheating, following other girls on socials, name calling etc. He didn’t do those things, we struggled on the emotional side of things..Did I ruin something good? The guilt consumes me a lot. Even when it ended he told me I was asking for too much and his family was more important. I still don’t know what I asked for other than to have more than one date a month and consistent communication..

I keep asking everyone if it was my fault, truthfully I feel like I ruined it all. I replay the day before the breakup where I knew from his eyes that the love wasnt there but he still said he loved me. It really haunts me. I’ve been asking a mutual friend of ours to let him know that I want a final conversation where I can admit my faults and guilt. This friend said he won’t do that because I was treated badly, and i need to hold my self respect. Deep down I know I was horrible, no one seems to believe me.

Bleh sorry for the rambling, I should ask though, how have you been? I hope you’re taking care of yourself and staying hydrated! -🐼

Hi lovely!

I'm glad to hear you're open to doing that <33 I've seen probably close to 10 therapists in my life, and of those 10, only 2 (one of which is my current therapist) was the perfect match for what I needed. It can be discouraging sometimes, going through so many, but when you find the one that fits your needs, it's worth it!

Actions ARE more valuable than words, and I'm sorry he didn't respond better to your emotions :( You can always say that to a therapist though! Something like "sorry, I just need a few moments to gather my thoughts, I'm feeling something, but I'm scared of saying it/unsure of how to say it/can't name the feeling". You're allowed to sit there with your feelings until you can express them!

Just because someone tries doesn't mean they were right for you. They don't have to cheat to still not be the person you should be with. If it was good, it wouldn't have ended. I understand that guilt or fear or worry, but there will be a better person that comes along for you, I'm sure of it. You are NOT asking for too much by asking for more communication or more dates. You just need to find someone who also wants those things, or is willing to provide you with those things. That is not too much to ask, especially from the right person.

I don't believe you were horrible, but I am sorry you feel that way. If you were, it's important to know it takes two people to end a relationship, in most cases. It sounds like you were willing to work on things, if he was willing to work with you, and he wasn't. No matter who is "horrible" that's all it comes down to. Faults or not, a good thing or not, he wasn't willing to continue working on the relationship.

Don't be sorry for rambling, that's what I'm here for <333 I've been okay though! Jayson surprised me with a new phone after I smashed mine, so I'm very happy about that :3 Been eating way too much it feels like lately, especially for how broke we are lol, but it's been nice to cook & eat food. I hope, despite everything, you're taking care of yourself too <3

[magmahearts]

TIMING: current PARTIES: @vanoincidence & @magmahearts LOCATION: van's house SUMMARY: cass comes to check on van, and the two have a chat. CONTENT WARNINGS: mentions of parental death

Everything felt wrong. And it sucked, because things had just started feeling right. Cass felt as if she’d only just gotten used to having ground beneath her feet only to have it all torn away at once, leaving her suspended in midair. She found a family in Metzli, and then they left, citing reasons of ‘protection’ as if that could fill the gaping hole in her chest. She found friends, and then Van was being distant and weird and wrong and it hurt. It really hurt.

The timing made it worse. On some level, she knew that. If the timing had been different, her reaction might have been different. She might not have left her cave, might not have trudged all the way to Van’s house, might not have knocked on the door, might not have opened it when no one answered. If the timing had been different, she probably wouldn’t be standing in Van’s living room right now. But the timing was what it was, and Cass was in that living room now, looking down at where Van lay on the couch.

She looked sad. And scared, and alone, and Cass knew what all of those things felt like, so she squeezed onto the small space of cushion not taken up by Van’s wallowing. “Scootch,” she said. “Tell me what’s wrong. Okay? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong, and I really want to help you.”

—

Van had been doing a wonderful job of not showing her face. So much so that people were starting to notice her reclusive ways. It hadn’t ever been like that before. Usually, people would see how she was isolating and they’d leave her to it. One time, she hadn’t even seen her grandma for a week because she refused to engage in the back and forth anymore. People usually became exhausted with the way Van could hold out and practically disappear. But not now, apparently. Apparently they were just making themselves at home in her house. Even Nora would drop by, shower, offer her a piece of ham, and then disappear back to her crypt or whatever. 

But now Cass was here. Cass, bright as the sun, always with a smile pinned to her face; conniving or not. Van barely looked up when her friend walked through the door. It wasn’t until she felt the brunette’s weight next to her on the couch did her gaze swivel to the other girl. She was exhausted, to say the least. Sleeping had become harder to accomplish, especially without the nightmares. So she opted for staying awake. Her laptop that sat on the coffee table was currently replaying the second season of The Good Place, but she hadn’t been paying attention. 

“It’s fine, I’m fine.” Van wanted to tell Cass that she shouldn’t be here. Sure, she hadn’t melted anything lately, but she still remembered those moments with Nora so distinctly, even if nothing terrible had happened. She had been a little confused by the lack of crystals encased in Nora’s skin as she returned from the mines, but hadn’t asked about it because she noticed the exhaustion from her friend, too. It was better to just not ask, she realized. Maybe Nora liked it better that way, too. “I’m fine.” Van repeated again, willing herself to believe it. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around, I’ve just been…” She paused, gaze wandering to her laptop screen for a brief moment before it returned to Cass. “Tired, I guess. Really fucking tired.” 

—

People need space sometimes. That was what one of the companions she’d made through her travels had told her once, when Cass felt a growing distance and got clingy the same way she always did. People needed space sometimes, and Cass tried to understand that, but in her experience? People sometimes wanted more space than she knew how to give them. That companion, the one who’d imparted those words of wisdom on her, she’d disappeared without a word only a few days later, just after Cass granted her the space she claimed to need. That was what happened, what always happened. People would disappear on you if you let them.

So Cass had learned not to let them.

She wasn’t always good at it. That companion who’d needed space hadn’t been the last to leave, after all. She couldn’t convince Metzli to stay, either, couldn’t turn herself into a thing worth sticking it out for. But she didn’t know how to stop trying. She didn’t know how to stop arguing every time Metzli told her she was better off without them around, and she didn’t know how not to show up at Van’s house and let herself in the front door. And maybe that was a good thing, because Van didn’t look okay. 

“You don’t look fine,” she said gently, placing a careful hand on Van’s back. “You look sad, Van. Really sad. Please, can I — Will you let me help you?” That was all she wanted, all she’d ever wanted. Cass only knew how to be useful when she was breaking off pieces of herself and handing them to someone else. And Van looked like she could use some stone on which to put a foundation, looked like something firm and easy to build on would come in handy. Cass could give her that; she just needed Van to let her. “Even if all I can do is listen, I want to do that. You can tell me anything you want, Van, anything at all. We’re in this together, always. Remember?” 

—

Van rubbed her eyes, wincing only as dots began to blot her vision. “Fuck.” She wasn’t sure she had anymore tears to cry, not with how dehydrated she was. She had at least forced herself to eat, not quite able to ignore the grumbling from her stomach for very long. Even as a child, when she threw fits and would often refuse to do anything else, when it came to food, she always folded. 

She didn’t deserve Cass, she realized. As soon as the dark spots in her vision dissipated, she forced her gaze to the girl sitting next to her. She looked a little sad, too. Van was kicking herself for putting Cass in this position. For making it about her. For always making it about her. Her grandmother had left after one of their conversations, about how Van wasn’t taking care of herself and that it couldn’t always be that way; that nobody would do everything for her, just because she was sad. But Van didn’t want anyone to do anything for her. She didn’t think she deserved it. 

But seeing Cass the way she was, it made something in Van feel sick. She thought about the night after leaving the mines, after seeing Nora in her crystalized gore– about the melted signs, about how it had been her that killed Diana; she thought about it all and how Cass didn’t deserve to be burdened with any of it. She’d already been burdened with Debbie, and whatever else this awful, horrible town had thrown at her. She bit her lower lip and looked down at her hands. “I’m sorry I made you worry.” She didn’t want to burden Cass. Refused to. 

“I didn’t mean to, really.” Van sniffled again and tightened her hands into fists. “I just don’t– I don’t know if it’s good that we hang out. That I hang out with anyone.” Pushing people away was what Van did best, and it had to work this way, too, because she couldn’t hurt Cass. 

—

It was clear that Van was going through it. Cass only really knew how to deal with this sort of thing by proxy. She’d never comforted anyone before because she’d never had anyone to comfort. But she’d seen it in movies. As a kid, she used to sneak into theaters and hug her knees to her chest, watching films where people comforted one another and made each other feel better, pretending that she had someone who’d do the same to her. When the mother in a film hugged her child, Cass pretended to know what it felt like. When the characters’ friends came together to make them feel better, she acted like she could relate. She’d never had any of those things before.

But she did now. Didn’t she? She had Van, who was sad and small on her sofa, who probably needed a friend. And her chest ached at the way Van spoke, at how much it reminded her of Metzli and their leaving. The you-deserve-betters, the I-shouldn’t-be-around-peoples, the I’m-a-monsters. It was just as frustrating with Van as it had been with Metzli, and part of Cass wanted to scream, wanted to cry, wanted to rip her hair out and fall to her knees. But she was already so hard to love. She couldn’t make it any harder. She couldn’t afford to.

And Van wasn’t Metzli. Van, she thought, could probably be reasoned with. Van knew her, had been there when iron sliced through her skin, when Nora’s knife dropped Debbie onto the tile floor, when Thea helped them know what to use to clean everything up while Ren instructed them all on how to repair themselves. Van had seen parts of Cass that no one else had, and there was a promise there. Heavy, binding, and still intact. The Allgoods took care of each other. Whether the person being taken care of wanted it or not.

“Well,” she said, “I think it’s a good idea if we hang out. And I’m not going anywhere. I’m here, okay? Even if all you want to do is sit here and not say anything, I’m here. And I’m staying.”

—

In a different life, Van could have fallen into Cass’s arms. Could have let the other girl wrap her in something close to love. But this wasn’t a life where Van had gone unharmed. For all she knew, Debbie had been her fault. The knife, the blood– the bleach that she still smelled, even now. She desperately wanted to believe Cass and that the other girl was being honest, but how could she be? Especially not when she had no idea what Van had done. 

She looked up at her friend with tears in her eyes. Her stomach sank and her mouth started to taste like iron. She didn’t want to be this person. The kind of person who hid away online, stretching the truth and whatever else. She wanted to be normal. But she wasn’t. She melted things with her mind and opened black holes. That wasn’t normal. Van opened her mouth to protest, to tell Cass that she was wrong, but she quickly closed it and pressed her face into her hands. She didn’t want to cry, not when Cass looked so desperate. “Cass, you have no idea who I am.” Because that much was true. 

—

You have no idea who I am. It struck her, in a jarring sort of way, just how true that was. And it was funny, wasn’t it? They’d been through this awful thing together, were bound together by the blood on Nora’s knife and the body rotting and decaying in that pit, but they didn’t really know each other. Not in any kind of real way. They knew superficial facts, knew quiet truths. Thea was a janitor. Van liked to play cards. Ren didn’t like parties. The only one of them that Cass really knew was Nora, and even that felt like more mask than girl sometimes. She wondered if Van would even want to be her friend if they’d met some other way. If their orders had been mixed up in a coffee shop, if they’d both ducked into the bathroom of a restaurant at the same time, if they’d gone to school together. Would Van have ever even spoken to her if they didn’t have the same blood staining the skin of their hands? 

Maybe it didn’t matter much. What ifs only ever left your head spinning, anyway. The truth of the matter was that they did share this godawful experience. It bonded them just as much as the promise they’d made. She didn’t know Van, not really. But that was okay. She liked her, anyway. And she’d keep liking her, because that was what Cass did. She stayed. She was the one who stayed. Even when it was hard. Even when it hurt. “So tell me,” she said quietly. “Tell me who you are, and let me love you anyway.”

—-

Van could have laughed at Cass’s attempt to pluck the sorrow from her. Maybe if she weren’t such a terrible person, she would have found comfort in the way Cass pulled her script right out of a movie she had probably seen. Sweet Cass with a penchant for theft, caves, and comic books. This was her friend, and at the end of the day, Van was just terrified that she would ruin it all. That she would send Cass into something horrible, that another black hole would open and swallow her up, that she might see the same expression Diana wore as she screamed for help. 

She didn’t want to see Cass go that same way. She didn’t deserve it. Van shook her head and rubbed her eyes. They were so sore, she could barely stand it. She should’ve put some spoons in the freezer. She needed to do that, and do it now. Van rushed into a sitting position. “I need– I need to do something.” And she was rushing towards her kitchen, crashing into the counter as she tried to steady her hands as she took the spoons out of the drawer. It didn’t matter that they were mismatched. She threw them into the freezer and pressed her forehead against the door of it. If she kept busy, she could stop it. She could feel the energy pulling at her, a slow ripple at first, but something uncontainable as it went unaddressed. Van forced herself to breathe, counting to five silently in her head. She stayed frozen for a moment in the kitchen before calling out to Cass. “Can you– Cass, I’m sorry.” Because she was sorry, she was always so fucking sorry. If she forced people out, then she wouldn’t follow them out the door begging for them to stay down the road. She wouldn’t hold them in her memory that acted as a morgue. That sinking feeling stayed, however, despite her breathing exercises. 

“I just don’t want to hurt you.” She was still in the kitchen. She wasn’t sure if Cass had gotten up by now, or left. Was she talking to herself? Van didn’t want to peek, didn’t want to see the expression her friend wore out of fear it’d haunt her. This was stupid. Cass had already publicly announced who she cared for most, or trusted– whatever it was. Why was she here? Van could start a fight with her, push her away that way. But there was no energy to back it up; so what if Cass cared for others more than her? It made sense! Van had a stupid house, not a cave. She wasn’t cool like Nora, or sweet like Ariadne. The pity party she continued to throw herself would implode at some point, but she refused to relent. 

—

Van shot up out of her seat, running into the kitchen in search of something to do. And in a way, Cass understood that. It was good to keep busy, to focus on something else when you were upset. She had a habit of doing it herself. It was part of why she was here now, distracting herself with Van’s problems instead of focusing on her own. She still would have come, even if she weren’t a desolate wasteland of hurt feelings, but she might have been easier to push away if she weren’t so desperate for a distraction. Circumstances being what they were made her a statue, a permanent fixture of her friend’s living room. She did this, sometimes. Responded to the perception of abandonment by clinging all the harder, holding on so tight that everyone who left her left with proverbial clawmarks. 

So she got up, she followed Van into the kitchen even knowing that it was the last thing Van wanted her to do. She watched her friend fumble around, watched her open the drawer and throw spoons in the freezer. She pretended it made sense. “Don’t — Don’t be sorry.” It was all sounding a little too much like Metzli’s goodbye now, like the prologue to a closed door that she would no longer be allowed to open. I don’t want to hurt you was another way of saying I don’t want to be around you was another way of saying I’m leaving. And Cass was tired of hearing that. She was rejecting that message. She was balling it up, she was throwing it in the trash. 

“I’m pretty hard to hurt.” She wasn’t a fragile thing. Volcanoes stood tall for thousands of years, erased civilizations with a burp. But Van didn’t know about the rocks beneath her glamour, didn’t know about the lava burning in her soul. She wanted to tell her, but she was already so afraid of rejection. If she showed Van who she really was and Van asked her to leave, if that happened now, on top of everything, she thought she might finally erupt. “I’m staying, Van. Okay. You can talk to me or you can not talk to me, but I’m staying. And you won’t hurt me. I know that.”

—

Cass was there now, in the kitchen. Van looked around, desperate to veil the number of empty red bull cans and takeout containers. It wasn’t any different from the last time she had come over, but maybe a little worse. At least it didn’t smell. Everything was at least by, or in the trash can. She bit the inside of her cheek, refusing to look over her shoulder at the other girl. She liked it better when she could turn off her computer and ignore the people who reached out. That was easier. She didn’t like being confronted like this. It made her deeply uncomfortable, because how could somebody care about her? 

“You don’t know that.” Van’s lower lip quivered and she stuffed her hands into the pocket of her hoody, fingers trembling as they scratched at either palm as a means to keep her hands busy. “You don’t know that I won’t hurt you.” Because even if she never meant to melt things, or open up black portals, it just sort of happened. She hadn’t gotten enough answers from Milo yet to fully understand exactly what was happening to her, or what it meant to even have magic– just that it had obviously skipped her mom and her grandma. Or her dad, depending on if it was that side of the family. Maybe if she were less fragile and anxiety inclined, she could appreciate the matriarch being the one to instill magic in her. Some kind of womanhood bullshit, but did she even feel much like a woman these days? She felt somewhere in between, but with everything else going on, she couldn’t quite place it. 

“Something follows me, Cass. All of these bad things– I’m almost positive Debbie was a part of it, too. It was all my fault.” Because it could be explained as bad luck. She wasn’t sure how Cass would take magic, or if she would even believe her. With how close she and Nora were, Van wondered if the girl standing in front of her knew of their friend’s ability to change into a bear. She wondered if she had seen her with the crystals. 

—

Maybe Van was right. She liked to think that her friend wouldn’t hurt her, but hadn’t she thought Metzli wouldn’t hurt her, either? Hadn’t she had a long list of people in her life who she’d sworn would never let her down, only to be left reeling when they disappeared after all? Cass was an easy person to leave, and being left always hurt. She knew that. But she also didn’t think that was what Van was talking about here. Because if Van was so desperate not to hurt her, she must not think that leaving would be the painful thing. There must have been more to it, just like there was with Metzli. 

Except she was going to stop this one. She was going to fix it this time. She wasn’t going to let Van protect her by leaving her because that had never been the kind of protection Cass needed, never the kind she wanted. “I know that I’m pretty tough,” she replied. “You won’t hurt me, Van. You can’t. I’m sure of that, okay? I’m positive.” She was made of stone and magma, and what could hurt that? She wasn’t invincible, but she was so close to it. Too close to it for Metzli’s teeth to break her rocky skin, even if they wouldn’t listen to reason when she pointed out as much. Too close to it for Van, who seemed human in spite of it all, to do whatever it was she was worried about doing.

Or… whatever it was she was worried about happening. She considered Van’s statement, thought about what it meant. Strange things happened everywhere in this town, didn’t they? Everyone was being followed by something. Cass, too. “I know how you feel,” she said gently. “It’s the same for me. But what happened with Debbie… That was on all of us. I, um… I think she was there because of me, anyway.” If what Alex said was true, if there were people who existed just to hurt fae and if Debbie had come into that store already looking to hurt them, odds were she’d been after Cass from the start. “If it’s your fault, it’s mine. We can share it.”

—

Cass continued insisting, continued telling Van what she could and couldn’t do. Van wanted to scream at her, tell her she didn’t understand. Because she didn’t. She had no idea what Van was capable of. Van didn’t even know. She had no clue what kind of power she held in the palms of her hands, but she wasn’t ignorant enough to think that she was the only one with it. Milo had magic, and so did Jasper. How many others? Nora, too, had been made out of some kind of magic. Maybe not the same kind that she had, but it was there, too. 

Van shook her head, desperation taking the form of tears, wet in the corners of her eyes. “Cass, please.” She grabbed the other girl’s hands in her own, looking down to see the reddened marks she’d left on herself. They stung a little. “Please, Cass. You don’t– I know that what happened with Debbie might not have been all on me, but–” and why would Debbie have gone after Cass? That made no sense. She didn’t believe it, not for one second. Van had brought Debbie to them in the way of coincidence, though a deadly one. 

She closed her hands around Cass’s wrists and brought them to the other’s chest, pushing her back slightly. “I need you to go home.” To her cave, to the bubbling stream and the glowing lights of the mushies that sat at the water’s edge, defying everything Van knew about an ecosystem. “I can’t– I don’t want to hurt you, and I’m afraid that something bad will happen if you’re here.” She could feel it now, the more she became aware of it– the energy that rippled. It was buried deep, and if she could stay calm then maybe she wouldn’t reach out for it involuntarily. She sounded like a broken record and she knew that, but was there any other way? She could see the pain in Cass’s expression, could see the way her friend didn’t want to be shooed away, but she couldn’t focus on that right now. She needed Cass to leave, because if she didn’t and it turned out that this turned into an argument where a portal opened, what good would come of it? 

—

Van was insistent. Guilty for things that had happened and things that hadn’t, so sure that she was a bomb gearing up to explode, and part of Cass wanted to scream. Why did anyone think that leaving her was going to keep her safe? Didn’t they know that she was nothing when no one was looking at her, that she’d rather be in constant danger so long as it meant she wasn’t alone? Metzli had never hurt her until they’d left insisting that it was to prevent it. Van had never caused her pain until this very moment, echoing a similar sentiment. Why couldn’t anyone understand? This was the thing that hurt. She’d take anything over this.

“Van,” she said quietly, but Van was already speaking. Insisting that Cass go home, kicking her out. Hurt flashed across the oread’s face, the memory of Kuma telling her to leave a tangible thing that clung to her even now. What did it matter, she thought, if the people leaving you insisted it was in your best interest? What did it matter if they did it to punish themselves, if you were little more than collateral damage in their own self flagellation? They were still gone. She was still alone.

She pulled her hands from Van’s grip, shaking her head. “Please don’t make me.” She didn’t want to go because she didn’t want Van to be alone… but there was something so much more selfish underneath. She didn’t want to be alone, either. Not now, not ever. “Please, Van. I want to stay.” I want you to stay. “I want to help you.”

—

Van wasn’t sure where the troves of people who claimed to care for her had come from. From Gael to Cass, and everywhere in the middle. Some of those who claimed to hold empathy for her were closer to her truth than others, but the only one who she felt really knew her was Nora. Nora was dealing with her own shit right now, and Van couldn’t bear the thought to ask her to come by, not since the last time she had when all they did was talk about Halloween and party plans that probably wouldn’t be lifted off the ground due to Van’s isolation streak and fear of the unknown. 

She shook her head at Cass’s insistence. They were both stubborn, that much was clear. Van couldn’t stand the thought of something happening to the girl ahead of her. Because if it did, what would come of her? She would be responsible for three deaths, even if she hadn’t been the one to plunge the knife into Debbie’s skull. “You can’t.” Because nobody could. Maybe her grandmother, if she would have stayed. Maybe she could have answered all of the questions Van had, or maybe that was why she had left– her own fear rotting her to the core. “Nobody can help me, I don’t– it just follows me, Cass. The bad stuff. I don’t want you to be hurt by any of it.” Because even if she did trust the girl standing across from her now, she wasn’t sure how unveiling that she had magic would go. 

An idea sparked– she’d seen it in a movie once, or maybe an anime. They could stay within each other’s company behind a closed door, but would it do much against the pool of unbridled energy that stirred at the slightest bout of anxiety or panic? She swallowed the suggestion, pushing it down– that’d be letting herself have something, and she couldn’t. Van looked at Cass now with blurred vision, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “I’m sorry, I am, I just– I can’t hurt you. I won’t.” Not like Diana, not like Debbie– like her grandmother. 

—-

Was it always going to be like this? If people weren’t leaving her because she was too much, were they going to leave her for some inner turmoil instead? Was this Cass’s lot in life — being left over and over and over again no matter how much she begged for things to be different? What had she done to deserve this, she wondered? What crime must she have committed to earn such a cruel punishment, time and time again? She didn’t think she’d done anything. If it was so bad, wouldn’t she at least have some idea of what it was? She knew she’d messed up with Kuma, knew she shared blame in Debbie’s death, but things like this had happened long before either of those events occurred. Had the universe punished her in advance? A self-fulfilling prophecy in which that preemptive punishment inspired the very crime it was meant to prove wrong? Cass didn’t know.

All she knew, all she really understood, was that she didn’t want it anymore. She never had, but especially not now. Especially not when she was finally in a place where she thought she could be happy. Maybe that was part of it, this cruel torment. She’d been given a brief window of time to see how things could have been in order to make the sting of how things were all the worse. She’d been given a birthday in which people sent her gifts and showered her in messages of affection only to have it all turned on its head mere days later when Metzli informed her that there was nothing she could say to convince them to stay. Did she have to repeat it with Van now, too? Was the universe so cruel? She still cried every night over those messages Metzli had sent. Couldn’t she at least have time to grieve before the process repeated itself all over with a new face?

“You won’t,” she insisted. How did she make people understand? She was made of stone and magma. Volcanoes towered over the land they grew from for centuries. Cass would live for a thousand years, and maybe a thousand more after that. The only way people could hurt her was by doing what Van was doing right now — by leaving. “It only hurts if you leave. That’s the only way you can hurt me, Van. So — So don’t hurt me.”

—

Van wanted to shake Cass. She didn’t understand, but how could she? It wasn’t like she was explaining how dire the situation was. They continued repeating the same things, and though Van should have focused on the fact that Cass was willing to stay despite all of the warning signs saying not to, she found that she only cared about getting Cass away from her as soon as possible. It was unlike anything she’d ever experienced; usually people left before she told them to, whether it was on their own volition or due to extenuating circumstances. She should have basked in the glory that was someone fighting to stay by her side, but she couldn’t find it in herself to do so. She didn’t want to hurt Cass, and that won out any possibility of being at ease with the fact that she wasn’t totally worthless. 

And then Cass spoke the words Van wished she hadn’t. They struck her down, leaving her skin to prickle at the insinuation that what she was doing could hurt Cass even if it hadn’t been physical. This was what she was good at; pushing people away, making them regret staying by her side just so that she could find peace in her isolation. But now things were different. This wasn’t about depression or anger or fear, this was about not wanting to hurt Cass. But she realized, in that moment, Cass wouldn’t be leaving through that door unless Van physically removed her, and she was a pipsqueak. 

Finally, she relented. Her shoulders drooped and she looked down at her feet, tears spilling down her cheeks. She was so tired and she just wanted Cass to trust that she’d been honest in telling her to leave, but Cass hadn’t wanted to go. They were complicated feelings. Van felt sorry for Cass, that the other girl had to be friends with someone like her. She didn’t deserve it. “Fine.” Because it was all she could say in this instance. It was all she knew how to say– short words with too much emotion that it might boil over and burn anyone in the vicinity. “Fine.” The word was spoken with finality. She rubbed her eyes, shaking her head. “I really– Cass, I just… I don’t…” She didn’t know what else to say that she hadn’t already said. Cass was as stubborn as she was, and there was no moving somebody who didn’t want to be. Not in this case. “Fine.” The word didn’t even feel or taste like a word anymore. She brushed past Cass and headed towards the couch, grabbing her blanket. “If you’re going to put yourself in danger, at least make it worth it.” Because distractions were what she was good at. Maybe Cass would get bored of her too, somewhere down the line; realize this was all a mistake. Or maybe Van would hurt Cass. Maybe Van would create a portal that’d swallow them all up and they’d exist in the lines between wherever here and Diana had been taken to. “Grab the controller off of the table, I’m going to show you how to play a game.” 

—

It was like the whole world held its breath, in that moment. Cass stared at Van, Van stared at Cass. An immovable object and an unstoppable force met in the middle, but there was no explosion. There was no nuclear blast, no devastation. There were only two broken people, collapsing under the force of their own weight. Van crumbled, and there was nothing Cass could do but crumble with her.

Van said fine, and she repeated it in a way that sounded broken and sad and upset but it meant she wasn’t going to make Cass leave, meant she wasn’t going to leave, so Cass was pleased. And she knew there was something inherently selfish about that, knew it was wrong to be relieved when your friend was upset just because it meant said friend wouldn’t leave you. But wasn’t she allowed to be selfish, sometimes? Wasn’t that okay? She was tired of losing. She did it so much. She lost her home back on the island, lost every friend she ever made the moment they decided she was too much for them, lost Metzli when they left no matter how much she begged them to stay. Wasn’t it time she won, even just once? Even if it wasn’t a victory for anyone but her? 

She smiled, too bright for the heaviness that had settled over Van. And the expression didn’t reach her eyes, but that was okay, wasn’t it? She was happy. She was so sure that she was happy. Because she wanted to be happy, because she had to be. She trotted towards the couch with Van, nodded her head. It’s already worth it, she wanted to say. I’d rather be in danger than be alone. But she was worried saying too much would make her friend change her mind, so she said nothing. She grabbed the controller, she sat on the couch, she broke the silence with, “You’re totally going to kick my ass,” and she hoped it would be enough, this time. She hoped that her begging and her pleading would be enough, just once, to make someone stay. Even if they didn’t want to.

[blxckdragonfly]

nothing good happens after 2am (Darkness Finds You Outtake)

(Song: “nothing good happens after 2am” by Mothica.

Warnings: Self-sabotage. Self-harm. 

Pairing: Malakai Black & Lyra Crowe Büdgen (Lilith Czar- played by Mothica) 

Synopsis: After having a horrible episode of self-sabotage, Lyra gets the inspiration to write another song for the deluxe version of her album. 

A/N: I’m also going to intertwine some of my own personal experience on this with self harming, because I was there way back in 2017-2018 and have struggled with blades since my early teen years, and now currently in remission. So, please read with caution. -Tiger

Playlist:

Word Count: 1,475-- cowritten with @blackrose-92​)

Lyra and MB’s House: Tampa, Florida– September 22nd, 2022.

2am. The hour before the witching. I lay on my side of our bed, glancing at the clock on my nightstand, I look over to see that Malakai’s asleep, out like a light. I turn onto my back and I let out a soft breath. I hate this time of the night, because it always drains me even more than I already have been.

Stay busy, don't think too much

Don't speak up, play it safe

Don't bother to ask for help

You'll ruin someone's day

Be pretty, pretty mean to yourself

Keep running 'til you're weak

This is what I tell myself all night….

I don’t deserve any of this. This, being married to someone. A healthy relationship, a home and a family life. These seven cats (children) that rely on me. I’m afraid that this is too good to be true, now that my ex is longer tormenting us– a heaviness weighs on my chest because I know that something is going to tear us apart.

I dig my long yet painted black nails of my right hand into my left and I start trailing them down, not caring if it draws blood or not. I only do it when I’m on tour with my band or when Malakai’s doing a show and I’m not needed, which is rare.

I try to keep it a secret and hide away my tendency so that he doesn’t see, or I use makeup– like foundation to cover up the majority of the scars that line my body.

Drip. Drip. I glance down at my hand and I see the blood dripping onto the bed sheets and I start to panic. I reach for whatever I can find, paper towels, napkins, anything that I can to soak the blood up.

Nothin' good happens after 2am

So I stay in bed

Replaying in my head

I'm clawing at my skin, and I'm so terrified

That I'll waste my life

In fear, in fear

See? This is why you don’t deserve any of this, Lyra. And you know it. A voice hisses in my head, loudly. I get out of bed, quietly and wash the blood off of my hand. I sigh as I apply pressure to the cut to get the bleeding to stop, hating myself more. I keep my head down, avoiding the mirror and the reflection as I do so because I’m afraid to look myself in the eye.

I hear a couple of knocks at the door and my panic heightens, I toss away the bloody tissue and I place a bandage on the cut on my hand.

“Lyra?” I hear Malakai’s voice outside of the door. “Lyra. It’s 2am, what’s going on?”

“I’ll be out in a second, babe.” I softly say as I shake my head.

If only you knew. If only….

I open the door and I see him standing in front of it, his facial expression tired but also laced with worry.

“What’s wrong, Lyra?” Malakai says and I walk past him to our bed.

Play it off. Make him believe everything’s okay. I thought as I shrug, meeting his eyes.

“Nothing. Just a nightmare.” I tell him as I sit on the bed. I watch as he narrows his eyes and he sits right next to me.

I'm good but not good enough for twenty-six years old

I don't know what I want, so I keep chasing gold

Lying at therapy so they're not scared of me

I'm getting scared of me, I know

“If you were having a nightmare, why didn’t you wake me?” He asks, realizing what I said was an instant lie and that he had caught it. I hate that he’s that observant sometimes.

“I…” I try to speak but the words catch in my throat. I can’t. I already feel guilty when I’m away on tour, when we’re away from each other and these episodes happen. I have to tell him at some point. I look away from his eyes but I feel his fingers lift my chin up, our eyes meeting once more.

“Lyra.” His voice softens. “You can tell me anything. You know that, right?"

I hate this. I hate that I kept this from him for so long. I take a deep breath, letting the air fill my lungs before I exhale through my nose.

“You’re right. It wasn’t a nightmare,” I say. “When you and I are apart from each other, whether it’s me going on tour or you doing a show without me– this cycle always happens. At 2am, I go through the worst self-sabotage that I start harming myself, sometimes I dig my nails so deep into my own skin that I draw blood. I start doubting myself. I start doubting us and our relationship. I hate it because I feel like it never ends.”

I see a look of shock cross him as I blink away tears that threaten to escape. I look away from him again, and they fall slowly down my cheeks– tears of pure shame. It feels like an eternity has passed before I feel his hands rest against both of my cheeks.

Nothin' good happens after 2am

So I stay in bed

Replaying in my head

I'm clawing at my skin, and I'm so terrified

That I'll waste my life

In fear, in fear

“Lyra,” His thumb wipes away my tears. “I may not be happy knowing that you’ve been hurting yourself when you’re on tour, but I’m glad that you’re brave enough to tell me. I don’t ever want you to have doubts about us, because you know that we’ve been through almost everything together. We’re still here and very much in love with each other, and it doesn’t make me love you any less for it.”

“I’m sorry….” His thumb rests against my lips, silencing me for the moment.

“Don’t apologize,” He murmurs, brushing back strands of my crimson hair behind my ear. "I understand. How long has this been going on for?”

“Ever since Created From Filth and Dust came out.” I say. “2021. Give or take.”

His eyes widened after I said that. That indeed, I’d been holding this back for a year. The silence creeps on and I feel it dragging like claws around me because I want him to say something.

“I-I didn’t want you to be mad at me if I told you,” I sniff as more tears fall. “Are you mad at me?”

His eyes soften and I feel his hand take my tattooed one, running his thumb across my death’s head moth tattoo, tracing it gently.

'Cause I hate what I see when I'm looking at me

I don't wanna exist, I don't wanna be seen

I'm fading, so jaded

By the weight of the words

I've been telling myself

Maybe I should just turn into somebody else

Erase me, replace me

“I’m not mad at you, Lyra. I’ll never be mad at you,” He takes our intertwined hands and kisses the back of my hand, his fingers caressing my knuckles. “I wish that I’d known sooner because I could've helped you find a better way instead of knowing you turned to harm.”

I let out a sigh and wrap my arms around his waist. I rest my head against his side, burying my face into his skin. Letting this embrace be enough to tell him that I’m sorry for keeping it hidden away from him for so long but also with a sense of relief now that I could say something to him.

“You already are helping me, Shadow,” I murmured. “Just by being the best husband I could ever ask for. I have to remember that, that we have each other and that will always conquer any doubt that I’ll ever feel. I love you.”

“I love you too,” He whispers with a soft smile, pulling me into his arms as we sink back into the sheets of our bed, together, my head resting on his chest. He places a loving kiss onto my lips, hand rubbing the center of my back. “Sleep well, my Little Crow. I’ll be right here if you wake up again.”

I nod and I close my eyes, letting the smell of him overtake my senses as well as the feel of his warm arms around me– sleep finally taking its hold after he places another kiss on my forehead and the voices fade away for another night.

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

Oh, oh, oh, oh

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

Oh, oh, oh, oh

[strangelysamantha]

cheerleader ❀

rafe cameron x plus!reader.

warnings: swearing, flirting, slight angst in the beginning (barely)

words: 2,365.

summary: rafe was intrigued by you, he wanted to get to know you. he thought that task would be easy, but your distaste for him was apparent. despite the overwhelming amount of setbacks, he knew he would get you to crack.

request? no :)

a/n: please like and comment if you enjoy! thank you, ilysm <3

my masterlist

part two

——————————————————————————

most things rafe wanted, he easily got. it was a known fact. his parents were financially stable so they could afford to throw money down the drain for useless items that wouldn’t be used more than once. his popularity and name allowed him to get away with most things. except you. you seemed to not care about his wealth or his looks. you didn’t even care to give him the time of day. he took this as a challenge. he was destined to get you to like him if it was the last thing he did.

the first time he talked to you was during school. he thought his charm and popularity would make you swoon. instead, it was quite the opposite. he approached you at your locker, his smile bright. “hey. i’m rafe.” he extended his hand out to you. “hello, rafe.” you shake his hand back, before retreating your hand to your side. you stare at him in confusion. “uhm am i in the way of your locker?” you question, he shakes his head. “oh no, actually. i just wanted to introduce myself to you.” you nod your head. “well rafe, it was nice to meet you, i guess. but i’m running late for class.” you shut your locker, speeding off to class.

rafe stayed by your locker in awe. you really thought rafe was just waiting to get to his locker? it’s halfway through the school year, if his locker was by yours, you would have known by now. he embarrassingly walked away, heading to his first class. that awkward moment was lingering in his head, stuck on replay. your facial expression that showcased confusion stayed still in his mind. by third hour he was over it, not as embarrassed. he shrugged it off, excited to try again.

rafe actually didn’t know that much about you. he saw you in the halls occasionally. his interest in you peaked when he saw that you talked to topper a lot. since you were heavily associated with topper, he believed that it would be easy to befriend you. it’s clear to him now that isn’t the case. he can’t help but feel surprised at your lack of knowledge for him. everyone knows of rafe, and you should especially know because of how well you know topper.

regardless, rafe knew what he had to do. he needed to see topper, and investigate him. rafe pulled his phone out, texting topper to meet him.

topper met rafe in the boy’s bathroom before fourth period. they scoped the bathroom, ensuring to themselves that they could openly talk since they were alone. rafe didn’t hesitate, he immediately bombarded topper with questions about you. “what’s with the sudden interest?” topper asks, confused.

“i don’t know, i keep seeing her in the hallway and she stares at me.” topper nods, “well she does good academically, i know her because her family is friends with my family, she’s on the cheerleading team, i don’t know man. what info are you wanting?” the cheerleading team. rafe smiled to himself, you are a cheerleader. “that’s good enough, i just needed some info so i could know if i want to meet her or not.” topper laughed, “alright man. i gotta go.” rafe nodded, “see you later.” topper fist bumped rafe before walking out the bathroom.

you were a cheerleader? he had no clue. it dawned on him, if he had no idea of who you were, why would you know who he was? he shook his head at the thought, instead heading to class.

on the other side of the school sat you, fidgeting with your pencil as you struggled to keep up with the current notes. the interaction you had with rafe was confusing you. why did he suddenly want to meet you? it didn’t make sense. the whole class period you tried to wrap your brain around his actions, trying to figure out what his intention was, but you fell short.

at lunch time you sat at a table, you usually sat with friends but they were absent. it didn’t help they were absent the one day someone popular randomly takes an interest in you. you sit on the chair, pulling out your math homework. if you knocked it out at lunch, you had a high chance of not having homework. you start the first problem, but immediately halt when your family friend, topper, taps on your shoulder. “hi tops.” you smile softly at him, setting your pencil down and turning your attention to him. he smiles at you, “hey.”

you pick up a goldfish, plopping it into your mouth. “how have you been?” you question topper. he shrugs, “same old same old. family is still upset with me, per usual.” you nod, soaking up what he said. “dang, that sucks. it’s so annoying how people hold grudges. they don’t know how to forgive and forget.” you shrug, smiling up at him. he returns the smile, “i know right.” you place your homework back in your bag, assuming you wouldn’t be able to finish it during lunch.

“what did you even do?” you ask him. he smiles, “uh i accidentally pissed a pogue off so they got revenge by sinking my new boat.” your eyes widened, “what! holy shit you must have fucked up bad.” he frowns, “i didn’t really want to do it, you know how tricky it is with our reputation and who we have to associate with.” you laugh, “oh i know all too well of what that’s like.” topper rolls his eyes, assuming you’re talking about him.

“hey! i’m not too bad.” you laugh, “it wasn’t about you. you aren’t bad at all.” you look up, seeing rafe take his backpack off. you glance at topper to see he is confused as well. “hey rafe, what’s up?” topper questions rafe, who had just sat down at our table. “nothing much man, saw you over here and decided to join.” you laugh sarcastically, “inviting yourself to our private party?” you question, slightly joking. rafe felt an unexpected twinge of jealousy when you grouped yourself and topper together.

“i’m just kidding rafe… kind of.” you grin, topper joining in by chuckling with you. rafe awkwardly laughs along. he pulls himself together, thinking of things to say. “are you going to the football game tomorrow?” rafe waits for your response. you smile slightly, “yeah, but i’m a cheerleader so i’ll be on field.” he nods, “oh, that’s cool.” you nod awkwardly. “yeah.” he smiles subconsciously, excited to see you in a uniform. his smile disintegrates when topper confronts him. “what are you smiling for bro?” rafe stared at him, unamused. “nothing.” topper scoffs, “alright then.”

you steal looks between rafe and topper, still confused. you don’t ask any questions, you just continue eating your food. the bell rings, indicating that lunch is over. you gather up your trash, standing up. you notice rafes eyes lingering over your body. his eyes fixating between your thick thighs, and hips. you feel self conscious under his stare, so you quickly stand up and walk to the trash can. rafe follows after you, quick on his feet. he comes up to your side, much to your dismay.

“will i see you at the game tomorrow?” you turn your head to the side, “are you going to the game?” you return. he nods, “yeah.” you smile, “then you’ll probably see me.” he grins, “okay, cool.” he quickly turns around, leaving you by yourself. you were confused still, but hey, maybe having rafe as a friend would be good.

you got through the day quickly, heading immediately home. you work on homework, chores, and finally get ready for bed. before bed you prepare your uniform. you set it out, along with a jacket so you weren’t on full display at school. you wake up the next morning, putting on your uniform, along with a bow in your hair. you head to school, slightly nervous for your possible interaction with rafe.

when you arrive at school, you don’t see rafe. you only saw topper, who was eagerly heading in your direction. he smiled, standing still in front of you. “hey, good morning!” you smile, “hi tops.” the two of you talk for a bit, him walking you to class. “can i pick you up before the game?” topper asks. “sure, it has to be a little earlier than the fans. i have warm ups and stuff i have to do before the game.” he grins, “okay! just text me tonight when you want me to pick you up.” you put your hands in your jacket pocket. “okay, thanks topper!”

he walks away, and you walk into your first hour class. you go through your classes as usual, rafe not showing up. you couldn’t tell if you were disappointed or relieved, but either way it didn’t matter, you had a game you had to prepare for. you do your make up, and touch up your hair. you chug water, and began stretching. you text topper, saying he could pick you up now, if he still wanted to drive you. his response was quick and enthusiastic.

topper pulls up to your house, his music loud, and a large smile plastered on his face. “game day!!” you laugh along, repeating his words. “game day!” you open his door, hopping inside. “let’s go!” you playfully roll your eyes at his eagerness, “to the school!” topper smirks, stepping on the gas, and speeding out your driveway.

the two of you sing along to the songs on the radio, before it abruptly ends due to you two arriving at the school. he decides to stay in his car, planning on joining right when the official game starts. you skip down the field, joining your teammates. you stretch with them, before you practice the chants and dance numbers.

at six thirty, they start allowing people in. you immediately see topper hunched over the fence, him waving frantically at you. you wave back, jogging over to him. “you ready?” he asks, you bite your lip, “i guess.” he laughs at your nerves, excited for you. you glance over and see rafe. he hadn’t seen you yet. your breath gets caught in your throat, slightly scared and self conscious to see him.

topper gives you reassuring words, and out of the corner of your eye, you notice rafe had found you. rafe slowly makes his way towards topper, keeping his cool. rafe stares at you in your cheerleading uniform. his breath gets heavy, he stares, watching you talk to topper. jealously fills his chest, of course topper was here first. rafe quickly approached the two of you, eager to break the conversation up.

“hi rafe.” you smile softly, looking up at him. he smiles, “hey. good luck today.” you fiddle with your fingers, “thank you.” rafe stays silent. you hear the coaches whistle. “i got to go, i’ll talk to you when i can!” you quickly turn around, jogging back to the cheerleading circle.

rafe watches as you jog away, hes mesmerized by how well the uniform fit. he knew you would look good, but damn. he looks over at topper, who makes eye contact with him. “what’s up rafe?” topper stares at rafe, waiting for an explanation. “she is so hot.” topper scoffs, “bro, already whipped?” rafe rolls his eyes, but grins. “for her, yeah. i’d willingly be whipped.” the two boys sit on the bench, topper watching the game, and rafe watching you.

after sitting in silence, rafe speaks up. “do you think she likes me?” topper quickly glances at rafe, trying to see if he was joking or if he was serious. when topper saw he was serious, he genuinely contemplated it. “id say maybe, i mean she doesn’t shrivel up in disgust when you are around. that’s a pretty good sign.” rafe shook his head, “that’s true. that is a good sign.”

rafe admired you, you getting his full attention. on break you rush to the fence, excited to see rafe and topper. “hey!” you look up at them, “you are doing great!” topper reached down, highfiving you. “thanks!” you look over at rafe, something took you over because he actually looked hot. you bit you lip slightly, you were going to say something, but rafe beat you to it. “you look good.” rafe smirked slightly, causing heat to rise to your face. “thank you, rafe.”

you return to the group again, your heart racing. the idea of rafe made your breath heavy. you continue to chant, and preform. you occasionally looked up rafe, his eyes always focused on you. you had a low chance of being able to go to the fence again, so you focused entirely on perfecting the choreography. the crowd was cheering loudly, your hometown winning the game.

at the final quarter, your hometown won by one point. your team jumps up and down, ecstatic. you preform a final show, before you break apart. you chug water. you rush in line with the other cheerleaders, going in a straight line to high-five the football players. you smile brightly at them, telling them congrats for winning the game. most of them returned a smile, and thanked you.

after the bleachers started to empty, you decided to meet up with topper, and possibly rafe. you look around for topper but he was gone. you turn around, accidentally bumping into rafe. “oh i’m sorry.” he stares at you, “hey, by the way topper left, said he was going on a date with a girl from the cheer team.” you frown, “oh. he was my ride.” rafe smiles, “you can ride me- i mean ride with me.” you laugh lightly at his switch up, “okay. i’ll ride you.” your heart is racing, the after game adrenaline flowing through your veins, which was causing you to be bold. he smirks at you, “okay, i’d enjoy that.” you mimic his smirk, following him to his car.

he turns around, “are you sure?” you nod, “i’m sure, are you?” he is shocked by your question, “so fucking sure.”

part two will be steamy <3

[aenaxes-moved]

reverie

[crosshair x f!reader] kashyyyk is beautiful at night. crosshair takes advantage of the moment of peace to sneak away. you follow.

warnings: none, just some snoggin’ with cross (you can technically read this as gn!reader if you disregard the petname)

w/c: 2.2k

a/n: NO SPOILERS! this is me coping with the current crosshair situation :’-) i wanted to explore his softer side because dammit he’s got feelings (he might be a little out of character but my house my rules heheh)

“Nice hideout you have going on.”

“Had,” Crosshair corrects without looking up, too focused on carefully wrapping a rag around the scope of his firepuncher laid carefully across his lap.

Had you heard him speak one short year ago, when you were fresh out of GARMC orientation and shunted straight onto the Marauder, you would have certainly taken the sniper’s curtness for frigidity. And you had, for your first few months with Clone Force 99, taken his flat intonation and pointed tone with a timid squeak every time he’d come in for a bacta patch or hypodermic needle.

But things were different, now.

There is no deflated resignation that he’s been discovered, hidden a good few paces away from where Tech sits entranced by the wizened green Jedi master. Nor is there icy snarl curling at the edges of his lips, that you might deign to interrupt his alone time with Darling (nobody got between Crosshair with a microfiber cloth and Darling, not even Wrecker). Instead, he acknowledges you in his cool nonchalance, beckoning in the most backhanded of ways. You grin, seizing your welcome and ducking under a thick loop of vine into the small clearing where he sits perched on a boulder.

“Was Master Yoda talking too much?” you laugh, dropping down onto the balls of your feet as you peer up at Crosshair (who still won’t tear his laser focus from polishing over the dark metal of his rifle). You wrap your arms around your knees and grin when he groans.

“General Yoda is fine; it’s Tech that keeps prattling on with him,” Crosshair mutters, scrubbing a touch more aggressively at the base of the scope.

“Oh, Cross, let him have his fun,” you chide playfully, finally earning you a disdainful glance and a raised brow. “It’s not every day that you get to interrogate one of the oldest sentient beings in the galaxy.”

“Did you just call the general old?” Crosshair snorts, flipping his toothpick from one corner of his mouth to the other.

“Crosshair, how dare you accuse me like that!”

“You said it,” he shrugs, and you catch a glimpse of a fleeting smile before he turns his head back down, away, towards his rifle.

You huff, and for a moment after, there’s silence. Mostly because you know that even your best retort would be effortlessly shot down, but in part to just indulge, to look quietly at the ornery sniper you’ve come to call a dear friend, to take in him and all of his tall, confident quietude. You both know that he knows what you’re doing, drinking him in, but he says nothing every time.

It’s in these brief reveries that you catch him in his softest, purest, state, methodically cleaning the firepuncher, disassembling, reassembling, replaying the soothing knowledge and practice that every piece had its rightful place. Things would align. Even with his chin turned down, his features nearly obscured by the shadows of the jungle canopy, there’s just enough light yet to make out the slight upward turn of his lips, a wry smile around his toothpick as he unclips his scope.

“So why are you here?”

The daydream is broken, and you flicker your eyes up to his with an embarrassed cough when you notice he’s been staring back. And if his smug half-smile has anything to say, it’s a triumphant and coy I caught you.

“Well,” you laugh, quietly pushing down the rising heat high in your neck. “I wanted to try to see the night sky on Kashyyyk before we leave, but I’m too scared to go alone.” You plaster on the sickliest of smiles you can, batting your lashes up at Crosshair in the way that would have Wrecker at your beck and call in seconds, but one that you know has no effect on his brother.

“Bullshit.” Crosshair rolls his eyes, but he’s already snapping the scope back onto Darling and sliding down from his perch. “Only things in the galaxy you’re scared of are porgs,” he says as he fastens his rifle into his pack and slings one strap over his shoulder, offering his free hand down to you.

“They—they have weirdly sentient eyes, okay!” you snap a bit hotly. You blame the warmth blooming across your cheeks on the fact that only Crosshair knows about your fear of the terrifying little fellows, not that he’s squeezing your hand and hefting you onto your feet.

“Why not ask Wrecker to take you?” Crosshair asks, letting go of your hand—to your relief and dismay all at once—and brush off whatever undergrowth sits dusted over your shoulders. “He’s sappy.”

“He’s busy making friends with the Wookiees.” And butchering Shyriiwook while he did it.

“And Hunter?”

“He’s also making friends with the Wookiees.” It’s not entirely untrue, if learning how to whittle blades out of branches counted as friendly bonding.

“Echo?”

“Also... making friends... with the Wookiees.”

You both know Echo has probably long since fallen asleep after a dose of painkillers for his fall during a particularly messy bit of the firefight. You could have actually told Crosshair the truth, but a part of you won’t take your chances—depending on Crosshair’s mood, he’d send you back to wake up his newest brother and return to shining up the stock of his rifle. But instead of calling your bluff, Crosshair simply shakes his head and sighs, extending his hand to you.

Mind suddenly and miserably blank, you stare mutely at his outstretched palm, an offering, then up at him.

“Come on, you said you were scared,” Crosshair teases, a lazy, sloping smirk curved over his features. He beckons you with a single flick of his fingers. Smug bastard, you think.

“My hero,” you snark back, but you’re quick to close the distance. Even if it takes bearing a bit of his snide sideswipes, you’re surprised at how easy it is to set aside your headstrong pride and simper for the sniper’s attention (though he’s giving it much more freely than you had anticipated). Palm to palm, the cool fabric of his blacks between you, you secure your grip around him as snug as you can.

Crosshair leads you quietly through the underbrush, going so far as to lift drooping vines and push aside especially tall ferns for you, all the while keeping as secure a grip on your hand as your grip on his.

It’s comforting, even while tamping through the darkness. You trust all of his brothers with your life, but maybe, just maybe, you trust Crosshair just that much more as he leads you deeper into the jungle.

After an short trek, you arrive at another clearing, the ground barren and drier than the damp, brush heavy terrain you had come to know during the Kashyyyk campaign. It’s no bigger than the armory floor spread on the Marauder, but as Crosshair pulls you into the clearing, you realize it’s not the earth beneath your feet that commands your wonder.

Crosshair nods his chin up, and your eyes are quick to follow. It’s the pearlescent glow of the three moons high above the treetops, shining clear and soft down through the canopy skylight.

Two moons float above in the bluish gray darkness of the galaxy, the third moon peeking from behind a few trees, in between them, a delicate freckling of stars, twinkling planets, comets ambling quietly through space. You’re barely aware of the grin spreading across your face as you soak in the night sky. It’s everything you had hoped it would be.

And with Crosshair at your side, it’s just that much more.

“Found it while I was scouting,” Crosshair’s voice comes, soft through the ambient silence of the jungle. Even in your rapture, you can feel his eyes on you, lingering on the green earth and watching your wonder far up in the sky.

“It’s amazing,” you breathe, and you squeeze his hand. You tear your eyes away from the starscape above to meet Crosshair with a smile. “Thank you, Cross.”

The sniper is quiet as you meet his gaze, trained on you with an indiscernible expression, a depth in his dark eyes you have only seen once before when you caught a glimpse of him at the helm, looking quietly into the expanse of space laid out before him.

It’s peace, you decide. A stillness, a calm, the quietest respite in the midst of this war. You gently rub over his knuckles.

“Close your eyes, y/n,” Crosshair finally murmurs, barely above a whisper, his gaze unwavering. And your eyes are already fluttered shut when you hear something hit the underbrush and a crunch of dirt under his boot as he steps forward and loops an arm around your waist. You squeeze your eyes shut a bit tighter as you press up against the battle-worn plastoid of his chestplate and feel his fingers splay over your hip.

Warm, rough fingertips gently pinch your chin and tilt your head up just so. A soft breeze wafts over your cheeks, carrying with it the woody musk and cloying pollen of the forest around you, and it is in that moment that you realize that he had dropped his glove onto the forest floor, had left it there and chosen to hold you in his bare hand, smoothing his thumb over your skin.

“There’s a good girl.”

The only warning you get is a ghost of a breath gently exhaled onto your skin before there is warmth, pulled close and steady and sweet as Crosshair gently tugs on your bottom lip.

He’s soft, you think mindlessly through the blissful haze between your ears. You faintly register the taste of the lavender balm you had bought him planetside on Crucival as he trails his hand up from your hip, over the dip in your back, and up to cup the base of your neck, pulling you closer.

All that teething’ll dry you out you had told him, and he’d scoffed something along the lines of soldiers—especially clones—not needing or wanting luxury goods. And yet you taste the telltale floral notes on his skin. You foggily wonder if he keeps the little tin on his ammunition belt as he kneads firm, steady fingers into your neck. You’ll gloat about it later.

There’s lavender, and then you taste him, just a trace, when he drags his tongue over the plush skin of your lips. At some point, you’ve brought your hands up to curl at the base of his head, threading through neatly cropped silver strands, and you part your lips. Finally, finally you can taste him on your own tongue.

He’s battle weary, laced with the slightest tang of synthetic wood treatment bleached into his toothpicks, anxiety bitten and jaw clenched. But here, now, only the faint residues of that tension remain in his impossibly gentle, unhurried motions. Running his thumb from your chin to the corner of your jaw, he tugs, tilting your head and gently tugging your tongue into his mouth.

Warmth blooms through your chest, steady and soft, a pulsar light glowing through the darkness, and you pull him closer.

He pulls away first, if only by virtue of your fervent wish that this moment might never end, nipping lightly your bottom lip in parting. And when the heat radiating off his skin is no longer close enough to warm you in the cool forest night, you slowly open your eyes, hoping that you won't wake to the durasteel ceiling of your bunk glaring down on you.

It's not a dream, Maker bless.

Crosshair stands before you, barely half an arm's length away and already flicking another toothpick between his lips as he smiles, open and soft in the moonlight. Without his persistent scowl, his piercing gaze, he looks so, so achingly young. And, if only for a moment, free of the burdens of war. Just a simple man bathing in the starlight in the jungles of Kashyyyk.

He's beautiful.

"Hi, Cross," you whisper, voice doing little to hide your lingering daze, and you watch, eyes wide with starry wonder, as Crosshair shakes with quiet laughter, eyes closed and shoulders sloped low.

"Hi, y/n," he chuckles. He fixes you with another unreadable look, this one different from the first. It's softer and mellow, vibrant in thrumming waves of bliss, content.

But before you can decide, he reaches down to pick his glove off of the jungle floor, tapping off the dirt on his hip and then, without hesitation, stuffing it into his ammunition belt. There's a brief flash of purplish metal in the pocket he chooses. The balm. You were right.

He catches your astonishment with a soft huff and clips the pocket shut.

"All that teething does dry me out," he teases, but there is only quiet acknowledgement, gracious and still as he extends his ungloved hand to you in the waning moonlight.

You stare at him, dumbstruck.

"The general probably knows we're gone. Come on," Crosshair's smile shifts, assuming a much more familiar smirk to accompany the sharp, snarky lilt that washes over him. He flicks his fingers at you, rolling his toothpick between his teeth. "Be a good girl for me."

There's the Crosshair you know.

"You're insufferable," you mutter, the heat blazing on the tips of your ears as you duck your head. But you reach for him anyways, reveling in the slow slide of your skin over his palm, your fingers finding home intertwined with his.

"Such a good girl," he chuckles, lifting your knuckles to his lips for the barest of chaste, fleeting touches.

"I will make your next hypoderm hurt like hell," you grumble.

"Oh, I look forward to it."

[mercy-burning]

Second Nature

Part of Mercy’s 1k Celebration: A collection of Spencer Reid x Reader requests to celebrate 1,000 followers.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Spencer and Reader share some realizations after one of them has been kidnapped. Category: FLUFF + ADDITIONAL SMUT ENDING (18+) Warnings: Language, brief mentions of kidnapping and injury, bruising, sex (penetrative sex, protected sex, dirty talk, lowkey hand kink—i’m not sorry) Word Count: 6.1k

Full Request: “...Congratulations on your 1k! I have  request for your celebration, if possible. Spencer/Fem Reader. Post prison Spencer, instead of him being taken by the cult, the reader is, making hi realize that she’s Love of life and they get together. Smut,preferred, if possible. Thank you.” — @dreatine 

NOTE: I had a little conversation with @ssa-m-187 about a post which discussed that trope where Person A caresses Person B’s cheek, and then Person A leans into their touch and holds their arm to keep them there for comfort.. I mentioned that I might add it into one of my requests, and this is where it ended up! 😂❤

I also decided to add an alternate/additional smut ending in case anyone wanted only the fluff. It will be clearly marked when the smut starts if you choose not to read it!

MASTERLIST | 1K MASTERLIST

***

Nothing bad ever happened to her. Spencer wished that was an exaggeration but it wasn't. In all the years he'd known Y/N, she was never kidnapped, no one she loved ever got kidnapped, and she never even got sick. Her moods were always visibly happy, no one had ever seen her with so much as a sprained ankle, and even bad hair days always seemed to escape her grasp.

So naturally, when she got taken by Ben's Believers, it came as no shock that Spencer was losing his mind.

Everyone kept telling him that they'd get her back, and that they all knew what to do, but it didn't stop the sinking feeling that weighed his heart down, far away from the surface where she was safe and waiting for him.

Guess it's safe to say, this whole situation stirred up some feelings he hadn't even known existed.

The first thing that came to his mind, aside from the initial shock of her being gone, was the first moment they met.

Y/N and Ashley Seaver had both been added to the team around the same time, and after losing Emily, the three of them had practically become inseparable. But that first meeting, the very second he laid eyes on her, it was something purely magical.

She was trying to open a jar of pickles in the break room, breathy and aggravated curses spilling from her mouth as if she were a sailor.

"Do you need any help?" Spencer asked, not intending to scare her.

But alas, she jumped, dropping the jar of pickles and causing it to shatter everywhere. "Shit!"

He offered to help clean it up, and she accepted, sighing about how everything she had was going to smell like pickles for at least a week. And once everything was picked up, she grabbed a pickle that had landed on the counter and took a bite, promptly saying, "Well, at least I got it open," with a mouth-full of pickle. "Thanks for scaring me, bud."

It was amusing to say the least.

And every time they'd gone out for food since then, Spencer made sure to order something with a pickle every time, just so he could offer it to her and hear her laugh about that day. Every time, she mirrored that moment, taking a bite and saying, "Thanks, bud."

Of course, back then he hadn't realized he did it because he liked her. He just thought it was nice to see her smile, to hear her laugh. That's what friends did, right? Made each other laugh?

That's what kept him going as they searched high and low for answers to get her back. Her laugh. It was there, replaying on a loop in his brain as if he could ever forget it.

And when he got her back, he vowed to make sure he made her laugh for the rest of time.

When they knew where to find Y/N, Spencer made it his mission to be the one who got her out of there. He wanted to be the one she saw when she was being rescued. He wanted to be the one who made sure she was finally safe again and out of harm's way.

And most importantly he wanted to tell her that he loved her. And he didn't want to spend another day without being next to her.

But first he had to get her out of there.

The second he saw her, it was like everything moved in slow motion. She was strapped to some type of mechanism that kept her hands at her sides and her head facing forward. And despite the fact that she'd never been held hostage, she looked very calm. She looked like exactly what the cult wanted her to be: a sacrifice.

It made Spencer's stomach churn. And it felt even worse when they moved in. Because everyone was getting down, and the cult leader jumped for Y/N, striking to kill.

The gunshot stunned him. He stopped in his tracks, hoping and praying that she wouldn't be hurt, and for one final time before he actually moved, he replayed her laugh in his mind. He briefly held on to the image of Y/N smiling at him without a care in the world before he inevitably saw her face to face for the first time in days, most likely without said smile.

But of course, the second it was safe and he ran to her side, she looked up at him and smiled anyway.

As Emily got the final restraints off of her, Spencer took a huge sigh of relief and welcomed Y/N into his embrace.

"Hey, bud," she breathed into his neck, letting him squeeze her tightly. He could practically feel her smile burning into his skin, tattooing itself there for all the world to see, and he squeezed her tighter, thinking of how he wouldn't have it any other way.

They clung to one another the whole plane ride home, curled up into each other and falling asleep after all the stress they'd been under. And it was no surprise to anyone that they even held hands while they did.

Y/N dreamt of him the entire time.

Specifically, she was remembering the day she almost quit. It would have surprised anyone to know she'd felt that way considering she never let her bad days show. But in those particular few months, she had really missed her family—and Ashley,—the cases were getting more and more stressful, and it all seemed to really take a toll on her emotionally.

But that one fateful day, she walked into the round table room, expecting to find no one since she always showed up early, and instead she found Spencer with a large wicker basket.

"What are you doing here so early?" Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow.

He smiled shyly. "Oh, um... I know your birthday was last week, and I feel bad I missed it since I was visiting my mom, so... I wanted to celebrate with you when we had a little bit of time."

He handed her the basket, and she marveled at all its contents, ranging from a few of her favorite books in different copies she hadn't owned, an array of her favorite candies, and most exciting, a jar of pickles.

"Oh, before you break the jar, I have something else for you," he said with a small laugh, pulling something out of his jacket pocket. "I've read that these are good for helping you open jars, and I even got myself one because we all know you're way stronger than me, so if you can't open a jar of pickles, I probably couldn't either..."

She would never know this, but in that moment he was kicking himself for being so awkward, even though the two of them had been friends for years. And he'd never know, but she hadn't even recognized it as awkward. She was incredibly thankful and endeared by his thinking of her, and it was the one thing that made her realize she could never quit her job.

She loved him too much too leave.

So she didn't. That morning she'd been planning on telling everyone her plans to find another job somewhere else, maybe closer to her family, and that night she walked out of the office feeling loved and thankful for her friends, and one friend in particular.

Currently, said friend was sitting quietly in the parking lot of her apartment while she dug up the courage to ask him inside for the night. Her plans consisted of sleeping in for as long as she needed thanks to a well-deserved few days off of work, and though Spencer would most likely return earlier, she desperately hoped she could convince him to stay.

It was quiet for a while and the lights in the car had long since turned off, leaving them in darkness as well as silence. Despite that fact, it wasn't eerie in the slightest... It was comfortable.

Even more so when Y/N reached over and grabbed his hand.

And then she spoke.

"Can... Can you stay? I'm fine, I promise, I just... I could really use some company, you know?"

"Of course," he answered almost too quickly. It made her laugh, and though it was small, he felt a weight lift off his chest at the sound.

The two of them walked up to her apartment in more of that comfortable, dark silence. The only light source to be found was within the dim lights of the hallway, though they'd made the walk so many times it was like second nature.

That familiarity followed them through her doorway, Y/N taking off her jacket and instinctively handing it over with her to-go bag, where Spencer's arms were already outstretched. He took them and removed his shoes, then transported their belongings to the chair in the corner of her living room, maybe five or six steps ahead from the entryway.

Y/N took a large breath and smiled as she flipped on the lights.

Spencer noticed, turning to her with a smile of his own. "Good to be home?"

"Mhm," she responded with a nod. "But you know what would make it even better?"

The knowing smile they shared brought warmth to her chest as he made his way to the kitchen, saying, "Peppermint hot chocolate, coming right up."

As her best friend made noise in the kitchen, Y/N padded over to her couch, flipping on the table lamp next to it and sitting down with an over-exaggerated humph. Her legs curled off to the side as she leaned against the armrest, taking a deep breath and breathing in the warm comfort of home, only amplified a little while later by the aroma of soft peppermint.

She could hear Spencer humming quietly to himself in the kitchen, the sound bringing a smile to her face. He always absentmindedly hummed her favorite song when he was making them food or something to drink, or even when they were just hanging out together in comfortable silence. She wondered often if he ever sang it to himself when he was alone.

And she was going to ask, but before she got the chance, he came up behind her with two mugs of hot chocolate. She took hers gladly with a smile that perfectly matched the warmth of the mug. And while she took the first sip as he walked around the couch and took his regular spot on the cushion next to hers, that warmth spread to her chest. She sunk into the couch as her eyes fluttered closed.

Beside her she could hear Spencer laugh. "That good, huh?"

"You're an expert hot chocolate maker, don't let anyone tell you any different."

Another laugh came from him, and the sound bought warmth to other places.

They sipped their hot chocolate together, once again basked in silence that was only disrupted by the distinct ticking of Y/N's cuckoo clock, a Christmas gift from Spencer one year after she'd mentioned how much she was oddly fascinated by them. It sat on the wall across from them, next to the TV and right above a DVD rack with her favorite movies. She stared at the clock fondly as she drank her way through the hot chocolate, and Spencer did the same.

Eventually they were out, and once their mugs were placed on either side table, they found themselves turning to each other with more of that second nature pulling them together like the moon pulling the ocean. Once their knees touched it was like the ocean dragged them under, only rather than suffocating, they found themselves breathing easier, like they were finally at peace.

The clock rung out, and only after it finished echoing did Spencer initiate conversation. He examined the bruise right under her eye, and once again the gravitational pull was too much, his hand reaching out to touch it with curiosity as well as concern. "Are you feeling alright? Do you need some ice or anything?" he asked softly.

Y/N felt her heart stutter at the featherlight touch of his fingertips, and despite herself, she blushed. "No, I'm okay. Better now that I'm home. With you."

His eyes flicked up to meet hers at her words, and the softness and genuine relief he found in them made him melt.

He moved to take his hand away, but Y/N reached up and gently grabbed his wrist, bringing it back to her face pacing his palm firmly against the whole surface of her cheek. He watched lovingly as she closed her eyes and leaned into his hand further, bringing her hand to wrap around his forearm and hold him there. And in that moment, he had to wonder if she could hear the loud, intense beating of his heart as it drowned out the clock's ticking.

"I... I was so scared," Y/N whispered, keeping her eyes closed. "I mean... In the back of my mind I knew you guys would come for me, but... That was... my first time ever being in a hostage situation by myself, let alone at all, and I..." She paused, stumbling on her words before exhaling a breathy laugh. "Those people were creepy."

Spencer laughed with her, his hand still resting on her face. When she finally did open her eyes again, she looked up at him through her eyelashes, and in that moment she looked so soft and vulnerable that he couldn't help but finally tell the truth.

In a whisper so soft she almost didn't hear it, he confessed, "I was so afraid that I lost you..."

"Yeah, but... You found me," she returned with a smile as she nuzzled into his hand further. "You always do."

Something in the way she said it made him bolder, and he realized then that that's what she always did.

She strengthened him, made him more bold and determined... And she gave him something to hold onto when he was lost. When things felt impossible, Y/N always said the one thing that put him back together and made him feel whole again, whether it was a few sentences, or in this case three little words: "You always do."

Completing him was her second nature, something he wasn't even sure she was aware of.

But now that he knew, he had to tell her.

"Y/n..." Spencer traced his thumb along the underside of her bottom lip, and he could have swore he felt her sigh out. He stayed paused, reveling in the way he seemed to have an effect on her, his thumb longing to slide further and trace her entire mouth.

Nevertheless, he continued. "You are... Everything to me. And I don't tell you very often how much your friendship means to me, but I... I can't keep going forward without you knowing just how much I care about you. Really, it..." He huffed a laugh, hoping he wasn't making an utter fool of himself and that she wouldn't push him away at this confession that was dying to escape. "It's embarrassing how much I love you."

He couldn't tell if it was exhaustion taking hold of him, or the relief he felt at finally getting that off his chest, but he held his breath as he studied her eyes, which were glassy like she was on the verge of tears. Her grip around his forearm tightened and she turned, kissing the inside of his palm and keeping her lips pressed there for what felt like forever, until he started to feel his skin go numb. Realistically he knew it was only a trick on the brain, how such a simple affectionate gesture like that had the most heart-swelling and mind-numbing effects on him because of how much he loved her.

But damn it, he didn't care.

She murmured his name into his palm, and her eyes flicked up to meet his again. That's when he noticed a tear fall from her eye and down her cheek, right into the side of his thumb.

Finally, she responded, "I love you, too, Spencer. I... I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to tell you, but... After what just happened, I don't know if I could ever spend another day without loving you."

His heart absolutely burst at the seams, warmer than before, and most certainly not from the hot chocolate. That warmth only spread, turning into a raging wildfire when she let go of his hand and moved forward, practically tackling him and wrapping her arms around his neck, hugging him and pressing her face to the crook of his neck. His arms wrapped around her back, hugging her close as she straddled him and continued to nuzzle into his skin, his presence...

They held each other like that for a good minute before Y/N finally gained the courage to pull back and look into his eyes. They were just as glassy as hers, just as filled with love and comfort and home as she could ever have dreamed. Her hands slid down to rest on his shoulders for a moment before one of them cradled his face.

And then she kissed him.

She knew he loved her, he told her as much, but in case this was already going too far, Y/N kept it light and hesitant, desperately hoping it wouldn't make things weird.

But of course, there was nothing to worry about. And Spencer showed her that as his lips pressed deeper into hers, his hands on her back pushing her closer to him and seeking as much contact as possible.

She brought both of her hands to gently run through his hair, and at the sigh he let out against her mouth, Y/N tugged harder, pulling herself up so she could get into a better, more comfortable position on his lap.

They shared peppermint hot chocolate kisses until the clock rung out again, both of them pulling away with a little surprise.

"Has it really been an hour since it last went off?" Y/N mused in a whisper, taking in the swollen state of Spencer's mouth. The sight sent a course of butterflies through her stomach.

"I guess it has... It's um... It's late, maybe we should get some sleep."

"Only if you come with me," Y/N offered, running her fingers through his hair once more.

Spencer nodded with a small smile, his thumb tracing the bottom of her chin. "Of course."

They pulled themselves off the couch and, hand-in-hand, navigated their way to her bedroom. And even though they'd never actually done it before, sleeping in her bedroom together, the whole journey was so familiar it was like they'd done it a million times over.

SMUT ENDING BELOW

Y/N didn't know what time it was, only that the sun was brightly peeking through her sheer curtains, basking her bedroom in a warm glow that made it almost impossible to be comfortable under the covers. When she moved to take them off of her, she felt a hand snake around her waist, pressing firmly against her lower stomach and holding her in place.

"Are you awake?" she asked aloud to the air, softly in case Spencer was, in fact, still asleep.

"Mhm," he mumbled behind her, his breath softly fanning out across her shoulder. "Have been for about an hour."

"You could have woke me up," she said, turning around to face him. His hand lifted and then settled on her shoulder when she was in position.

"You deserved the rest," is all he offered in explanation as his hand gently brushed the hair from her shoulder. It tickled as it fell behind her, dropping off her body and across the back of her neck. Spencer trailed his fingers lightly up her neck until they reached her ear, and then he trailed them back down and over the curve of her shoulder, and then down her arm. He continued this and smiled as he took notice of the goosebumps that formed all over her skin. The thin tank top she'd changed into before bed left most of her exposed, each little freckle and hair that adorned her skin on display in the warm sunlight.

Meanwhile she smiled, heat slowly rising to her cheeks as she recalled their kisses on the couch. Needless to say, her dreams that night were rather scandalous, something she wasn't unfamiliar with, though given these new circumstances she was more than a little hot right now.

Spencer noticed, his hand halting its movement on her skin and resting itself on her waist over the blanket. "You're thinking about it, too? Last night?"

Y/N looked him in the eye and swore she saw them dilate when she responded. "Yeah. Among other things..."

"What... kind of other things?"

She would have told him, but since it was obvious they were both feeling the heat she bit her lip instead, a teasing look in her eye. "You're a smart man. You tell me."

"What if I... show you instead?" he whispered, his voice broken and obviously a little shocked that this was finally going to happen.

"Take it away, Doc."

His first kiss was sweet, reminiscent of the first one they shared on the couch, and his second was a little deeper. Y/N gave her stamp of approval by sighing, bringing a hand up to play with his hair again, and it was the trigger that shot him forward, his lips working hers with more passionate, methodical precision. Meanwhile his hand dipped under the covers and pressed firmly at her back, slipping under her shirt and bringing her closer.

She wrapped her leg over his waist, pulling herself forward to get as much contact as she could while he swiped over her bottom lip with his tongue. The small whimper she let out at his kisses made his hips buck forward involuntarily, to which Y/N clenched her leg tighter around his waist and tugged a little harder at his hair.

He tipped them over then, rolling so that he was hovering over her while their kisses only grew needier. His hand slipped under her shirt, feeling the expanse of her stomach and her sides. The low hum that came from her throat at his touches drove him half wild, so he boldened them, slowly sliding up and up until he reached her bare breasts. Her legs came out immediately and hooked themselves around the back of his thighs as she whined at his touch.

With curious kneads of her chest and even more exploratory kisses that were reciprocated with an equal hunger and passion, it didn't take long for Spencer to feel his insides churn with a desire that could possibly never be satiated. Even if Y/N was the one who kept him whole, he also knew she would be the one to completely wreck him to pieces. He'd rarely ever felt this type of desire before, especially not towards someone who took up every crack and crevice of his mind at any given moment. And now that he had it, he never wanted to let it go. She was going to utterly ruin him, and he'd never been more welcoming to that type of damnation—the type that was also his salvation.

Because she was everything all at once, devastatingly beautiful in every imaginable way.

Her hands tugged at his tee shirt, punctuating her urgency with a needy little whine into his mouth. He pulled back then, tugging off his shirt at the expense of taking his hands away from her. But from his higher position now, he took her in in all her wild glory, lips swollen and a little red, hair splayed out across the pillows, and her breathing visibly heavy. Even with the bruise under her eyes, she was the most breathtaking person he'd ever seen. She marveled up at him, willing her gaze to trail down his chest and stomach, her bottom lip tucking itself gently between her teeth as she stared at where his sweatpants hung low on his hips.

Y/N reached out and grazed her middle finger across the waistband of his pants, gently feeling the fabric and his skin at the same time. He was still, continuing to watch her explore his body the way he'd done hers, always amazed at the curious look in her eye— the one that was now swimming in a pool of lust. Her hand trailed upwards, feeling the soft planes of his torso until she couldn't reach any higher.

"Having fun?" Spencer mused with a smile as she rested both her hands on either side of his waist.

She sat up then, pressing a kiss to his neck while her hands travelled south, under the waistband of his pants. He sucked in a breath as she palmed him through his underwear, gently nipping his shoulder before she answered. "Oh, I'm having so much fun."

He was going to say something, but words escaped him as she sat up on her knees and continued tracing the outline of his dick through his underwear. He was painfully hard in an instant, a fact at which Y/N gave a low, amused laugh. Once she found the underside of his tip, she gently rubbed it through the fabric with her thumb, and the broken whine that he let out delighted her in every way. Her tongue traced his collarbone and the contours of his shoulders and neck until she reached his jawline. She licked him there too, humming as her thumb worked faster at his dick.

"Mmm, I've wanted this for so long," she told him softly, bringing her lips up to his ear. "Do you know how many times I've thought about us? Dreamed about us?"

"Not as many as me, probably," he choked out with a small laugh, audibly trying to keep it together as his stomach burned with every languid stroke of her thumb over his most sensitive point.

Y/N returned his laugh and sensually kissed his jaw before saying, "I doubt that." Then she dragged her mouth up to his lips and brought her hand out of his pants so she could thread all her fingers through his hair. Though they were kneeling, he was still taller than her, so his hard erection pressed firmly against her stomach as he brought her closer, gripping her hips and melting into her.

When his right hand slipped into her sleep shorts, she whined out and pressed herself harder against him, reveling in the way the heat from his hand practically burned into her ass. He kneaded her there as well, groaning into her mouth when she tugged on his hair and turned her head to deepen their kiss.

It was obvious that she was trying to feel some type of friction— her knees were willing her to get up higher, to feel him hard against her, but alas she wasn't able to reach. She showed her frustration by whining into his mouth and trying to pull herself up, the pressure of her arms around his neck getting stronger with every passing second.

"Spencer pulled away laughing a little, removing his hand from her shorts and bringing it to the front, dragging along the inside of her thigh. "Is there something you want from me, pretty girl?"

The nickname sent a fire through her veins that set off every smoke detector in her brain, the alarm coming out in the form of a whimper. "I want to feel you inside me," she whispered, nuzzling her nose to his and reaching down to guide his hand farther up. When his middle finger breached the fabric of her shorts, she whimpered again, willing herself closer to him. "Please, Spencer."

He hummed lowly, drawing circles into her skin. "Are you prepared? Like, do you... have condoms or anything, do we need one?"

"I have some in my top drawer if you want me to get it," she said quickly with a nod.

He laughed a little, amused at her eagerness, before pulling away from her and helping her off the bed. Once she was feet-first on the ground, she strode over to the dresser where she opened a small drawer on the top left and rummaged through it. Meanwhile Spencer followed her and came up behind her, pressing his front to her backside and making her tense. He brushed her hair aside and brought his lips to her neck, his hands resting at her waist.

She slowly rolled her hips against him, sighing out when his hands gripped her tighter. One of them slipped down into her shorts again, this time coming around front and resting over her clothed pussy. His fingers explored her like hers had explored him, teasing her in the same way that made her want to burst into flames.

"So wet already, pretty girl..." he mused, sighing and attacking her neck with more kisses. "I bet I'll be able to just slide right in..."

She outwardly moaned this time, clutching a condom in her hand and then slamming the drawer shut. "Alright then, Mr. PhD, why don't you put that theory to the test?"

He loved how eager she was, and a little impatient. Something told him that if he teased her enough, she might have just begged him for anything. But he didn't want to do that right now. No, right now he was planning on showing the love of his life just how much she meant to him. He was going to give her everything he had, and then some.

So he turned her around and kissed her, walking them backwards until his legs hit the foot of the bed. He almost went down, but before he could, he turned them around again. Y/N's body hit the bed, her legs immediately opening for him to stand between them. Rather than leaning down to kiss her again though, Spencer ran his hands tugged lightly at her shorts, to which Y/N gladly lifted her hips and allowed him to pull them off. Her underwear weren't too far behind, and then she lifted her shirt over her head, tossing it aside and leaning back on her elbows.

Seeing her fully bare like this was enough to drive him mad, but he held on, spreading her knees apart and sliding his hands along the insides of her thighs. "Y/N, you're perfect..." As he marveled at her and showered her with love and praise, he slid his hands further and further up her body until they reached her arms.

She helped him remove his pants and underwear, and once they were off, Y/N tore open the condom and handed it to him. He rolled it on and then leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead. Then her temple, then her cheek... Then he pressed the softest kiss to her lips and looked her in the eyes. "You really want to?"

She smiled at him and nodded, bringing one of his hands to her entrance and pressing his fingers to the wetness that pooled there. "You feel how bad I want it?"

He groaned and kissed her then, circling his middle finger over her clit and making her cry out against him. After a few more seconds of this, Spencer positioned them at the head of the bed and angled his hips forward, the head of his dick coming in contact with her pussy.

He slid in slowly, reveling in every pure, blissful second that went by as he gradually became completely enveloped in her. Once he was buried to the hilt, Y/N threw her head back and bit her lip, her hands reaching out to play with his hair again. He ground himself into her for a few seconds before pulling back and then starting a slow, steady rhythm.

"God, Y/N, you feel so good... So... perfect for me."

"Funny, I was just going to say the same thing about you," she breathed. Her eyes trained themselves on his, and though there was a lot of love there, she saw something else that she recognized, something hesitant. It was close to the same look he gave her last night, after she'd explained to him that she was fine after he examined her injury.

He was going easy on her. But she wanted more.

Y/N reached up to tug his hair gently, biting her lip and batting her eyes. "I'm not made of glass you know... You can fuck me harder if you want to."

Everything from the look on her face to the way she said it to the way she clenched around him as she did made him half feral. He smirked at her without thinking, a natural reaction to her challenge. "Oh, you like it a little rough, huh?"

She smirked back at him and nodded, tugging his hair harder. "Uh huh."

Though he started fucking into her harder, his pace remained slow,  accentuating each rough thrust with a huff through his nose. Y/N's mouth opened involuntarily, the power of his movements rendering her almost speechless. Eventually though, she let out one large moan as her fingers even further tightened their grip in Spencer's hair.

Taking note of her reactions, he felt pleased with himself. "You like that, don't you, pretty girl? You like it hard and deep..."

Her hands dropped from his head and rested at the sheets, gripping them instead as he worked his hips a little faster. "Y—yes, baby, I fucking love how hard you fuck me."

The words tumbled out of their mouths so easily, each syllable spoken with the right amount of lust and truth, it was like their conversation was a dance. Their bodies and their words melded together in a perfect number that brought them further towards the climax.

But, as every dance does, their needed a little flourish.

Spencer reached out and caressed her cheek again, his thumb going straight to her lips. Y/N opened her mouth and sucked it in, swirling her tongue around it and groaning at the way he bit his lip when she did so.

"Fuck, pretty girl, you're gonna ruin me if you keep that up."

She smiled at his words, which allowed him to press his thumb flat down onto her tongue. Her mouth remained open as he held it there, her pants and moans coming out clear as day. And as if that wasn't hot enough, she batted her eyelashes up at him, and he fucked her even faster, both of them starting to feel the signs of impending orgasm.

He could have kept his thumb in her mouth forever, but to aid her in pleasure, he removed it, dragging it down her chin before bringing it to her clit and rubbing in tight circles.

"Fuck, Spence, that's it," Y/N moaned, looking down between their bodies and almost losing it at the sight that beheld her. "Don't stop, don't fucking stop!"

He leaned forward to kiss her then, the new angle finally bringing her over the edge. She cried out into his mouth as it explored her own, soaking up all the sounds she made and using them to fuel his own release.

They came together, and it felt  like years of tension and anticipation and love finally culminated into one giant explosion that enveloped them whole. It felt like, for a moment, nothing else in the world existed, only Spencer, Y/N, and their palpable connection that felt very much like a home in and of itself.

Even as they came down, their breathing slowing down and their touches becoming gentler, that explosion quieted right alongside them, an echo of love and warmth lingering in its wake.

Spencer pulled out and laid beside her, reaching out and gently touching the bruise under her eye. "You okay?"

She couldn't help but laugh. "Yes. I'm more than okay... I'm perfect."

He smiled at her, pure, true comfort settling in his bones. It was a rare feeling, but he was glad that it came with her presence. "Me, too. And I... I meant what I said last night, Y/N, I... I love you. More than words could accurately describe."

Her heart swelled at his words. "I love you, too, bud. More than anything in the world."

He contemplated for a minute, a smile forming as he said his next words. "More than pickles?"

Y/N threw her head back in a boisterous laugh that made Spencer's heart beat a little faster, before playfully hitting his harm and snuggling up next to him. "Yes, definitely more than pickles."

"Good. That would have been embarrassing."

"I don't love you more than peppermint hot chocolate, though. Or that cuckoo clock."

Spencer pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Yeah, but I got you those things, so technically that means you have to love me at least as much as them..."

"Okay. That's fair, I'll give you that one."

With an over-exaggerated, "Phew," Spencer smiled and pulled her closer, the warm sunlight from the windows giving him the most clear view of their legs tangled together over her lavender-colored comforter. It was so domestic, so perfect and loving and real that he never wanted to forget it.

He was thankful that he never would.

***

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[sourwulf]

so remember when the guy at the school was holding a gun to stiles' head and scott's dad saved him? can u do something similar but this time he saves u in the same way during the whole deadpool thing? thnx

༄  word count  —  1.5k

፨  characters  —  stiles stilinski

☓  tw  —  guns, blood, death

⊹  cw  —  violence

✎  masterlist

─

you were currently in the girl’s locker room putting your stuff in your locker after track practice. you’d stayed a little longer to get an extra couple of miles in, and now the sun was setting, making the school dark inside.

you were standing in the shower under the hot water, letting it run over your tight and sore muscles when it suddenly went cold, making you quickly rinse your hair before tying a towel around your body, drying yourself off, and getting dressed. you pulled your hair out of the towel that was covering you a moment ago and brushed it out.

you knew scott wouldn’t be happy with you being alone — what, with all the dead pool stuff going on. you were the only human on the list, and you were worth significantly less than everyone else — seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars. everyone else was over a million, but not you.

none of you knew why you were even on the list in the first place. everyone else was a werewolf, banshee, or some other kind of creature. maybe it was simply because you were friends with them, or maybe because you had information that no one wanted to get out.

either way, your friends didn’t want you getting hurt. and since you didn’t have the same abilities and powers everyone else did, you were told to always be with someone who could protect you.

and the person you were paired up with was stiles. you two weren’t super close when everything started, as you’d only been friends for a couple of weeks. but sleeping over at each others’ houses every night and spending your free time together caused you two to bond, and now you were like two peas in a pod.

but you’d finally managed to get some alone time, and you’d never been so thankful to be alone. you enjoyed spending time with stiles, but you also really liked having some time to yourself outside of class.

but when you started hearing footsteps outside the locker room, you looked over to the door. you took a few steps toward it and they stopped before retreating and going the other way. you figured it was probably just a janitor, so you turned back to go to your locker.

you stopped in your tracks, though, when you almost walked into a taller man who wasn’t there before.

you jumped backward and he just smirked at you.

“this is the girls’ locker room,” you said nervously.

“oh, i know.” you looked down to see a gun in his hand and gulped, realizing that being alone in the school probably wasn’t the best idea. it was an old revolver, one with a hammer you have to pull back to shoot. “i just figured almost eight hundred thousand dollars was worth a trip into the wrong locker room.”

he raised his weapon to point at your stomach and your eyes went wide.

“wait, you don’t have to do this. i-i’m not supernatural, i’m just a regular person. you’d just be killing a random girl.”

“the list is supernatural creatures. and you’re on it. why else would you be on it if you’re not?”

“i don’t know! i’m trying to figure it out. i swear, i’m not a werewolf, i’m not a banshee, kitsune, anything.”

you could tell he thought about it for a second. “i don’t believe you.”

“why would i lie?” he looked down at his gun then back at you. “okay good point.”

“fine. i won’t shoot you. if you tell me where your friends are.”

you sighed. “they’re in the cafeteria.” he perked up a bit. “or the library. or, actually, they may be in the gym. or they may not be here at all.”

his expression changed to that of anger, and he pointed his gun directly at your forehead, only a couple of inches from your skin.

“i’m gonna count to three, and then i’m gonna shoot you.”

you scoffed nervously. “you don’t scare me.”

he pulled back the hammer, the barrel rotating. his index finger landed on the trigger and you could feel your heart pounding.

“one.”

so many thoughts raced through your mind. you recognized that you were about to die, the thought making you want to vomit. you had so many things you wanted to say to so many people that you’d never get the chance to say. you wanted to help your friends find out who the benefactor was.

“two.”

and you realized you couldn’t. time seemed to slow down and you took a deep, shaky breath, closed your eyes, and let a tear fall.

then, suddenly, a loud bang. but you didn’t go down. instead, you felt liquid splatter on your face, and you flinched so hard your legs almost gave out. you opened your eyes to see the man in front of you with a hole in his forehead, and he collapsed.

you sputtered, blood droplets shooting through the air. you finally let yourself breathe, looking up to see stiles, an expression coated with just as much shock as yours.

“what are you doing here?” you asked, your voice cracking.

“lydia. she-she told me to come here.” he walked over to you and gripped your shoulders. “are you okay?”

you quickly nodded. “i’m not dead, so yeah. i’m good.”

he walked you over to the sink and pulled his jacket off, wetting the fabric and wiping your face. he didn’t speak, and you just stared at him until he was almost done.

“stiles.” he finally made eye contact with you, the look of anxiety still lace on his face. “are you okay?”

“yeah, of course,” he said unconvincingly.

“you just shot someone.” you looked over at the body and the pool of blood next to it. “you can’t possibly be okay.”

“i’d have rather shot someone than lost you.” you wanted to smirk at how cheesy that sounded, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“where’d you get the gun?”

“it’s my dad’s. he keeps it in his nightstand.”

“we should call him so he doesn’t get framed for murder.” he nodded, scrambling to pull his phone out. “wait, stiles.” you reached up and gripped his hands. he looked at you. “you can talk to me. i can imagine shooting someone in the head doesn’t just roll off the shoulders very easy.”

“we can talk about it later,” he responded softly. “i have to call my dad.”

you nodded, letting him dial his number.

—

someone shook you awake, your eyes shooting open. you looked around, still in the familiar sheriff’s office. you were laying on the couch by the windows, and you must’ve fallen asleep.

you’d spent a good hour answering questions with stiles, and it was well after midnight now. you looked to your side to see stiles, who was squatting next to you.

“you ready to go?” he whispered.

“what time is it?”

“almost three.”

you nodded, swinging your feet onto the floor and stretching. you followed stiles out to his jeep after saying goodnight to his dad.

sitting in the front seats, he didn’t turn on the ignition. you turned your body to face him and just waited for him to say what he was thinking about.

“no.”

you raised your eyebrows. “no? no what?”

he shook his head. “you asked me if i’m okay. i’m not. i’m not okay. when you were asleep and i was waiting for my dad to tell us we could go, i just... i let myself think about it. i... i took someone’s life tonight. i shot someone in the head. i have someone’s blood on my hands. and, i would do the same thing over if i had to because i had to save you, but...” you reached over and rubbed his upper back with his hand. “i just can’t stop replaying me pulling the trigger in my head.”

“i know. i can imagine. but you didn’t really have a choice.”

he nodded. “i know.”

“he could’ve killed all of us if he was still alive. he wanted to know where you guys were. he could’ve killed scott, lydia, malia, any of you. what you did... it saved a lot of lives. maybe... if you try to think about it like that, it won’t be as hard to live with it.” he nodded again. “i mean this life... it’s not easy. we’re always under attack, trying not to die. it takes a toll. i mean, shit, i had a gun to my head tonight. because i’m worth almost a million dollars to someone that we don’t even know. i almost died because someone values money more than life. you defended me, stiles. you saved my life. you should at least be proud of that.”

“i am. i’m glad i was there. i just wish i could’ve done that without killing someone.”

“unfortunately that’s not always an option. tonight it wasn’t. he was gonna kill even more if he wasn’t killed.”

“i know.”

you weren’t sure what to say. you’d never dealt with this kind of situation before. so you leaned over and pressed a kiss to his temple, seemingly comforting him.

“wanna go back to my place?” you asked, yawning. “my mom is home.”

he nodded, and without another word, turned the key in the ignition, heading towards your house.

[svnaslove]

let me love you.

summary: Tendou is insecure that one day you’ll stop loving him

genre: angst, fluff resolve 

characters: Tendou Satori 

warnings: Tendou [mentions of varying levels of insecurity; holding back emotions in beginning.]

Tendou Satori | 天童 | boyfriend

You were not blind. You had known Tendou for far too long, you have been in love with him and had stuck by his side and listened to all of his stories for far too long to not notice. Something was wrong. 

You always knew about your boyfriends’ way of covering up his insecurities by building a wall and deflecting anything that could get to his feelings by rebounding with some joke or a random song. Yet you were the only one that had the key to unlock the tiny door on that wall and go inside to him. To be with him. To love him him and not his silly songs, but HIM.

So it confused you when you noticed that Tendou was acting odd today and whenever you would ask him what was wrong he would shrug it off a little too happily, a smile that was a little too big to be natural.

You were hanging out at his practice like you always did to watch him play and to support him. But you could tell something was off. And every time he came back to sit next to you for a few seconds to take a water break your sad look only saddened more when he acted so out of himself. 

You tilted your head, “Satori, baby, are you okay?” you ask, you voice laced with concern.

Tendou looked at you, his eyes softened at your concern but you watched them harden again in a way of a screen being pushed forward just as fast. He stuck a thumb up and grinned a huge grin, “of course i am !! are you okay ?? you look a little sad. we can get ice cream after this okay ??!?” 

He ran off before you could even muster an answer in your mind, leaving you baffled sitting by yourself once again.

You felt guilt pull at one of your heartstrings when you noticed that your question seemed to have affected Tendou. He wasn’t doing so hot before, and now? He seemed to miss the ball nearly every time. But he just kept shaking it off and laughing it off. It was worrying you and you felt like you were about to cry seeing his current state.

Tendou had just been switched off by the coach for the practice match. You walked over to where he was sitting to make sure that he was okay. You couldn’t give up just like that. You knew something was wrong and you had to figure it out. You had to help him because seeing him like this just hurt too much. 

Tendou noticed your presence closing in towards him where he was sitting out from the game and smiled. “hiiiiii, i keep messing up don’t i? don’t worry, next time im in i’ll make sure to make you happy!!” he exclaimed again.

You grabbed hold of his hand and you felt his hand twitch at the sudden touch, “I’m okay, but are you sure you’re doing alright? You know you don’t have to keep playing if you’re not doing okay right now, it’s just practice, and you have to put yourself first.” You pleaded him, trying to reach his eyes, but his gaze kept averting. 

“I’m alright!!~ the practice match is almost over and then we just have to clean up and we can go somewhere together, okAy?” he responded, his voice was starting to waver and the voice crack gave away his emotions, before you could do anything, Tendou was being called back into the game.

fuck.

This hurt so much. Watching Tendou like this hurt so much and it felt like you were too far from him to pry him back to you. But you don’t give a damn, you would climb mountains and swim oceans for this boy and this little stump won’t stop you from loving him and showing him how much he means to you.

You try to patiently wait for the set to finish meaning the end of practice. It’s hard. Your eyes following Tendou wherever he went, even with his words of assurance and the fight in his eyes to fight whatever deep dark emotion in him that was halting his world right now, you could see he was about to break. And if you don’t help him soon this just might break you too.

The whistle sounds and you run to Tendou, “hiii baby wha — “

Tendou is caught out of breath as you rush to him, tugging at his jersey to go outside.

Once you reach outside everything feels like it’s breaking through, all of your emotions of worry spill over like a nasty tsunami, “Stop it Satori, you need to stop it because I care about you too much. You need to talk to me, you need to tell me what’s wrong, you need to let me help you because if you don’t I don’t think I will be okay, I love you too much Satori, please.” you beg, your heavy chest giving in to the pressure and a straggled sob leaves your lips as you plead to him. Your lip quivering and your eyes glazed over threatening to spill.

Tendou can’t even muster words and he simply falls apart. His eyes set heavy tears as he starts sobbing too, he grabs you and holds you tight at your torso. “I- I’m sorry.” he hiccups as the tears keep falling down his cheek, getting caught in your pretty blouse. His hold on you was so tight, but you never wanted him to let go.

“I-I just love you so much, I-” A strangled sound leaves his throat followed by a hiccup, his fingers tighten on your shirt, “I’m just s-so scared that one day I w-won’t be good enough, I want to be with you, I want to be with you forever, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me y/n, I want to be good for you forever. B-but I’m scared of what will happen if you find someone b-better.” he confesses, the top of his head pressed on your stomach with you standing and him sitting on a near bench, his gaze is to the ground as he watches his tears trickle down from his pretty eyes to the pavement.

You kneel down to be eye level to him sitting on the bench. Your eyes were puffy from crying just as much as him, you cheeks glistened to the sun due to the salty tears that spilled from your eyes like the watering of daisies you had done only this morning.

You held his two hands on your own, caressing them, rubbing circles with your thumb. You started to kiss his hands softly as if planting pretty roses on his skin. His fingers, his palm, the back of his hand. He watches you curiously, his heart felt as if it could melt to your affection. 

You then place each of your hands on either side of his face, looking at his beautiful dark brown eyes that held a shade of red. His own eyes searched yours. “Tendou,” you started, a soft smile on your face softening your features further with the golden sunset light saying its’ farewells until night leaving one last show of pretty pinks and oranges in the sky. “There no such thing as someone better for me than you.”

You watched his features change at the sound of your words, at the sound of your true honesty, because you were right, there was no such thing. Tendou was the only one you could ever love this much, there was no better, he was the better. A soft blush painted on his cheeks. Your thumb caressed his cheek.

“There’s no such thing as someone better for me than you either y/n.” he smiled in mirror to your own.

More tears threatened at both Tendou and your own eyes, but this time it was due to the swell of your hearts.

“I love you, okay?” you sniffed, the soft smile still playing amongst your features.

“I love you too.” he replied, his head tilting to your left hand on his cheek that had been stroking his cheek.

You both slowly became closer, trying to take in the face of the one that they loved as much as possible before closing your eyes. Your eyes closed and your lips met. It was a soft kiss, not one of any meaning other than the essence of your shared love, the start of all the honesty as possible of any insecurities and feelings you had for one another and the purity of affection that you held for one another, the pure love of the willingness to sacrifice anything for the other. No walls. Because when you allowed each other to love one another, it was as if you were one.

His lips brushed soft on your own, the taste of salty mixed tears tickled your taste buds. There was no want from either side to pull away, because this moment right here, it could be replayed for eternities and both of you would be okay with that, this moment was not one where the world existed. It was truly, only you, and Tendou. 

[thelittleboyfromloveactually]

Surprise?

Benny Watts x reader

Promt: When Benny leaves for a work trip, you find yourself feeling sick. And after a trip to the doctors your relationship with Benny is tested, will the two of you continue and have a future together? Or will this “surprise” ruin you both forever?

Warnings: Cussing, throwing up, ANGST, fluff

authors note: Here it isss!!!! FINALLY! I’m so sorry for the delay! Also, ok so kinda off topic but i am going to write a series for an actor (actor masterlist), tell me who you guys want it to be for :) Enjoy the fic!

When you where 12 years old you fell in love with chess. You didn’t grow up rich so chess and reading books was your favorite way to pass the time. Chess was like a safe space for you, when your parents would fight, you would go into your room and play chess. You were amazing at it, you entered one tournament went you where 15 and you beat everyone there. But nothing much came of it, you couldn’t really afford to spend hours a day practicing and as you got older your life became more and more busy and complicated. When you were 14 years old your older brother died of a drug over dose and only 3 years later your mom died of stage 4 breast cancer. You and your dad weren’t close, infact once you where old enough to move out, you never really spoke to him again. He was a drunk and a abusive father. But now you were your own person, you were a reporter, a chess reporter.

On your first assignment you met Benny, Benny Watts. He was a charmer, he let you interview him and then the next day he caught you before you checked out of the hotel to ask to take you out sometime. That was 2 years ago. Now you lived with Benny, he wasn’t always the best boyfriend, but you knew he cared. Every once in a while he would buy you something nice or take you out to dinner. You often traveled with Benny to his tournaments, but lately you hadn’t been able too. You were up for a big promotion at work and you weren’t able to travel.

Currently Benny was sitting in the small living room playing a game of chess against himself. He didn’t know of your skill, and it didn’t bother you. Sometimes when he was away you would secretly play some games against yourself. Chess was Bennys thing, and you were ok with that. You were reading Emma by Jane Austen on the couch. It was one of your favorite novels. You flickered your eyes away from the pages to look at Benny, he was very focused on the game. You sighed, it was getting late and you still needed to start dinner.

“Hey Benny, what do you feel like for dinner? I’m kinda hungry” you said putting your book mark in and closing your book.

“Um I don’t care” he said blankly, not even looking away from the board

“Uh ok well how about som-“ you were cut off

“I said I didn’t care Y/N, you eat now I’ll snack on something later” he said firmly

You nodded not daring to say more. You stood up and started to chop some carrots when suddenly the phone rang.

“I’ll get it” you said drying your hands and walking over

“Hello?” You said

“Is this Benny Watts?” The man on the phone asked

“Um no this is his um, girlfriend, would you like me to get him for you?” You asked looking over at Benny

“Yes please, thank you” the man said

“Uh Benny it’s for you” he stood up and grabbed the phone from your hands, you went back to your cooking.

You didn’t really listen to the conversation they were having, probably some interview set up or something. You heard Benny put the phone down

“I have to get packing Y/N, I have to leave for a tournament tomorrow” he said headed toward his room

“Oh ok, do you need help?” You asked sweetly, you really wanted to ask why he found out so late but you didn’t want to bother him

“No” he said plainly, you nodded your head in response and continued on with your task at hand.

The next morning both you and Benny got up early, you wanted to say goodbye to him. You walked Benny to the door and handed him his bags. He kissed you on the cheek

“I’ll be back soon, love you” he said turning to the cab behind him

“Love you too, Benny” you smiled

He got in the cab and drove off.

The rest of your day was mostly just catching up on work. It was Sunday so you didn’t actually have to go in.

You were sitting at the small table in your living room when suddenly you felt the need to throw up. You stood up and threw your hand over your mouth as you quickly ran to the bathroom. You made it just in time to barf your guts out into the toilet. You were there for about 5 minutes, hovering over the toilet throwing up when finally your stomach settled down a little. You growned and stood up, tapping your arms around to stomach and dragging yourself into your bed. Of course you had to get sick when Benny was going to be gone for a week. You sighed and crawled under the covers. It was only 3 minutes before you were sound asleep.

You woke up around 3 in the morning with a sudden need to throw up AGAIN. You ran to the toilet. Jesus why was wrong with you, you had a great immune system and hardly ever got even a cold. As you lay on the bathroom floor you wouldn’t help but think about all the possibilities. Then you realized something. When was the last time you had gotten your period?! You stood up and went to your purse to grab your planner. 7 weeks ago was the last time you saw the red drop of blood that you had drawn to mark the start of your period. You were 3 weeks late. 3 fucking weeks late, how did could I not have noticed this?! You thought to yourself, you quickly went over to the phone and called your friend, praying she was home. As the phone wrang you tried to thing of the last time you had had sex with Benny. You had been so busy and Benny was traveling that it was probably a month ago! You cursed under your breath when she didn’t pick up. You dialed the number of your doctor and waited patiently. You tried to calm yourself down, you needed to make an appointment, then you would know for sure. Then you heard a voice from the other side of the line.

“Hello? Doctor Peterson’s office, how can I help you?” The lady asked

“Oh hi! I’m uh I need to make an appointment, preferably tomorrow, to see Dr. Peterson?” You asked passing back in forth

“We have an opening at 8:30am if you are willing to come then?” She asked

“YES! Yes of course thank you! I will be there!” You said excitedly, or you were nervous, you could exactly tell. You gave her your information and thanked her again. You hung up and started to diale bennys hotel number, but you stopped yourself. He’s probably busy, and I may not even be pregnant, you thought. You sighed and went to sit on the couch, but what if I am, you thought.

Shit. In your hand were your official results, saying that you were in fact pregnant.

“I have great news hun! You're 7 weeks pregnant! Congratulations!!!” Your OB/GYN said

“Uh t-thank you” you weren’t sure why she was so excited, it’s not like you wanted to be pregnant

“Who’s the father?” Geez personal much

“Uh my boyfriend, Benny” you said taking the paper she held out to you

“Well I hope you two the best” she smiled

You folded the paper and put it in your bag and started the car. The entire way home you brain was clouded by one single thought. How where you going to tell Benny. You loved him with all your heart but would he be able to handle this. He barely spends time with you as it is, and with a young child? You would practically raise it by yourself. After a short car ride you arrived at your small house. That was another problem, did you have room for a baby? Could you afford a baby?

After hours of debating and throwing up you decided not to tell Benny just yet. You wanted him to be here in person when you tell him. You were scared and angry. You decided that you would give Benny a choice. All or nothing. You needed to be sure that he still cared for you more than chess and himself. That he too would be a present parent to your child. And if not, then your mother had a guest room and welcoming arms.

Today was the day. The day Benny would be told he was going to be a father. You had cleaned the house so he could come home and not stress. Not that cleaning ever stressed him out. You sat on the couch anxiously awaiting his arrival. Were you nervous? Yes, very. As much dread as you held in you, you also couldn’t help but feel a sense of curiosity, of suspense. You loved Benny and would never want to leave him. But you had to do what was best for you, best for the baby.

You were taken out of your thoughts when the door opened, Benny stepping through it.

“Y/N? I’m home” he said, lucky for you he sounded pretty cheery. It was quite obvious he had won. By now it was almost a guarantee. He put his luggage down and looked around for you, and he smiled when he laid his eyes on you. “Hey” he said walking over to wrap his arms around you

“Hi Benny” you said smiling sweetly, he gave you a quick peck on the lips before letting go of you and heading to sit by his chess board. Of course.

“The guys almost beat me, I’m gonna run the game. He was smart but I was smarter.” Benny said taking off his coat

“I’m actually Benny, there is something I need to tell you” you said now fidgeting with you fingers

“Can it wait Y/N? This is really important” he said already replaying the game

You sighed, “actually it can’t wait Benny, what I have to tell you is really important” you said mimicking him

“Fine but make it quite ok? I’ve got games to go over and my coffee is wearing off” he said turning to you

You were getting angry at how rude he was suddenly, “do you love me?” You asked

Bennys eyes widened, surprised by your sudden question, “of course I love you Y/N” he said

“Well sometimes Benny….sometimes it doesn’t seem like it. You hardly touch me anymore. You never leave the chess board! You are so...so distant! Benny I love you so much! But I wish I could have that love in return. You love the game! I get it! I did once too! But the game doesn't love you! Sure maybe it favors you, but it’s a game Benny! A game! Not a person! Not a baby who needs attention! Don’t get me wrong I love seeing you pursue your dreams so much! It makes me so happy! But it doesn't seem like a dream anymore Benny, it seems like an addiction.” You paused trying to catch your breath and calm yourself down, Bennys face was still. “Benny I’m pregnant, with your kid. And I love you so much, but I can’t raise this kid by myself, it needs its dad to be there, I need its dad to be there. You need to choose Benny, no more halfway in, you're in or you're out. I need to do what’s going to be best for the baby, I hope you can too” you left it at that, heading toward the door and leaving the house. Leaving Benny. Not forever, but leaving him to think about all that you said.

Bennys POV

I stood there. I heard the door shut. What just happened? Did she say she was pregnant? Shit. I was confused to say the least. I never thought be being a great chess player bothered Y/N. Fuck what have I done? I can give up chess. But then again, I can’t give up Y/N. I guess maybe I’m not the best boyfriend, but I need her. She keeps me as close to sane as I can be. I don’t know what I would do without her. I plopped down on the couch and ran my fingers through my hair. I messed up. I should have been there. I know it should have. Dammit. As much as I hate it Y/N was right. Of course she was, she always is. I love chess but I am addicted to winning. And that makes me distant and rude. Fuuuuuck. I grabbed my hat and ran toward the door. I knew where Y/N was going. She always went there when we fought. She was going to where I took her on our first date.

Normal POV

The string lights shone above your head as you walked through the park. Your cheeks were wet from tears. You loved the park at night. It was so….peaceful. The lights allowed you to still see the gorgeous garden flowers that were planted everywhere. The first time you ever kissed Benny was here, in this park. You had gone to this park for a picnic. He had set up flowers, treats and surprisingly very good food that Benny supposedly made. You ate and talked for hours until it got dark. After you put the food away you took a stroll in the park which ended at a bench, the beach under the cherry tree. It bloomed every spring and it was gorgeous. The two of you had sat down on the bench, Benny grabbed your hand and smiled at you, and two seconds later, your lips were connected. Moving in perfect sync. That was then. Now you sat on the bench crying, hoping that Benny would choose to be a dad for your child.

You sat on that bench for 10 minutes, contemplating your life desisions when suddenly you heard foot steps behind you. You turned your head slightly to see Benny walking over, holding his hat in his hand.

You sighed in relief, but then to be out in stress avian when you realized he could be here to say goodbye.

“I’m sorry” he said moving to sit next to you

You tried not to look at him, you avoided eye contact.

“I’m really fucking sorry, Y/N” he said “I-I know I have been distracted and distant and rude and I am sorry. I love you, all of you, including this baby. It’s gonna take time ok? But your gotta let me try, I will make every thing right. I will ok? I promise. I love you Y/N, forever. When you left i realized how much I need you, I don’t think I can live without you. Your my home, my rock, my best friend and the love of my life. I know It doesn’t always seem like that but you are. I’m it good with love and stuff so give me some time to figure it out. But I will be here, I will help you raise this kid…..our kid. I’m all in, forever” he said putting his hand on top of mine. I looked up at him finally, and he turned his head to look at me. And then we kissed, just like our first kiss, but more needy, more passionate, full of love, guilt, and want.

“I love you too Benny” I said smiling

We both let out a laugh and our lips connected again.

4 years later

“Daddy daddy look! I drew your chess board!!! And I can name all the pieces!” Hudson said

“That’s amazing buddy! Show me your skills!” Benny said as Hudson sat on his lap

“That’s a rook, that’s a knight, that’s a bishop, that’s a queen, and then the king, and then the bishop, knight and rook again!” He said pointing to each one

“Great job!!! Soon you're going to be a grandmaster!” Benny said kissing his forehead

You smiled as you watched your son, Hudson chess Watts, yes Benny decided on Chess as his middle name, and your husband smile and play together. You found it incredibly adorable that Benny was already teaching Hudson to play chess. Sometimes you even played. Benny looked up at you and smiled, you smiled back. Benny came around in the end, and is the best husband and father to Hudson that you could have asked for. You were happy with your life. So freaking happy. You had your boys. Who knew that such and unwanted surprise could bring such needed happiness.