#I just need to look at this with eyes that are not sore from the whole day behind the monitor

[writersdrug]

Someone sent an anonymous ask about Soap being all whiny and jealous, complaining to Simon about how lucky he is to have such a pretty, curvy girl and Tumblr swallowed it 😫 (This is gonna be a 2 parter)

Warnings: nsfw, threesome, sub soap and reader, dom ghost, training, voyeurism

But I can imagine Ghost would be so sick and tired of it. Johnny's constantly yapping like the mutt he truly is: "Yer a lucky man, LT. Findin' a pretty bird like that." "Where'd ye get her? Need to find one for myself." "She as soft as she sounds?"

Ghost wants to snap at him for talking about you like that - he shouldn't be talking about you at all. But he knows the poor man is just lonely, aching to have something soft and supple like you. Your smiling face smushed between Ghost's fingers when you come to drop off the lunch he forgot. The jeans that fit snuggly around your ass and thighs, the shirt that hugs the swell of your breasts, stretched thin as it barely contains them... poor Johnny boy can't help but whine at the sight of something so appetizing, so soft and warm right there - he's jealous of his LT. How did someone so hard around the edges pluck something so sweet?

Simon hates to see him so upset, pouting in the corner like a scolded puppy as you stare at your boyfriend with stars in your eyes. Johnny could have a girl, but he gets overeager: fucking them on the first date, leaving them sore and bitten and tearful. He's too rough, and they're quick to excuse themselves, fleeing the next morning and blocking him from all social media.

Johnny needs to learn to be patient and gentle with his toys. He's nice enough to let the sergeant practice with his own pretty girl, and you're more than happy to assist Soap with his green-eyed monster.

After a nice dinner at his LT's house, served by you - along with some bronze, liquid courage - Johnny sits on the recliner, chatting with Ghost, who's relaxed on the sofa. You enter the living room and stand next to Simon, biting your lip excitedly and staring between the two of them. Simon wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you to sit on the arm of the sofa.

"Y' think she's pretty?" He asks Johnny, who blinks.

Gorgeous. Comely. Ravishing. "Course I do." He responds plainly, trying not to get worked up over the way you're perched next to his LT so prettily.

"Yea, you do..." Simon mutters, squeezing the flesh at your thigh. "What's it you said? 'She must look nice, spillin' out my hands’?"

Soap is nothing short of mortified. His eyes are wide, staring back at Simon - he doesn't know what to say. He said those things within the secrecy of his conversation with his lieutenant - he didn't expect him to repeat it outside of that bubble, let alone in front of you, the person in question.

"N' what else was it? 'Need t' have a pretty li'l wife with a rack like that to lay my head-"

"Simon!!"

Soap finally glares at his LT, his fingers digging into his own thighs. His heart is pounding in his chest. Is Ghost trying to get you to hate him?

You giggle and stand upright. "It's ok, Johnny." You coo, slowly walking over to him with your hands behind your back. "I like it. It means you like me."

Soap has little time to do anything but grunt when you swing a leg over his thighs and seat yourself in his lap. Your cleavage is right there, just inches from his face, and he can feel the bare skin of your thighs burning through his trousers.

"Help me take this off?" You tug at the skirt of your dress, looking down at him with those innocent, glossy eyes.

He can't breathe. His clothes are too hot and too tight, his cock nearly choking in the confines of his pants. He looks to his lieutenant for help - Ghost just smiles, like he's watching his favorite porn. He might be, depending on how this plays out.

"Go on, Johnny. Slowly."

Johnny wants to be anything but slow, once he realizes his best friend is showing you off like a collectible toy. He looks back up at you, watching the way your plump lip catches between your teeth. He carefully reaches around, grabbing the back of your neckline and tugging the zipper down - slowly, as he was instructed. He can barely focus on the movement with your breasts right there, imagining what they'd taste like between his warm lips. The shoulders of your dress fall away, revealing the lacy bra you're wearing. He looks up at you, drool pooling under his tongue as you slide your hands over his shoulders, one coming around to play with the base of his mohawk.

"You can take it off." You whisper.

He wastes no time, his hands smoothing up your back and unclasping your bra in one motion. He helps you pull it from your shoulders - your breasts, round and full, now pressing against his chest. He wants to touch. He needs to touch.

He shoots a hungry, pleading look to Ghost - he nods back at Soap, which is all the sergeant needs to absolve his filthy behavior. He closes your breast in his palm, eyes hazy as he takes your nipple into his warm mouth. He hardly has to move his head forward because you lean into his mouth, your fingers grasping at his hair and your back arching deliciously. Johnny groans, using one hand to dig his fingers into the thick flesh at your hips, and his other to press his palm against your lower back. He shifts himself down as his tongue swirls around your nipple, groans leaving his throat and reverberating against the bud, quickly hardening from his ministrations. You sound so sweet, high-pitched coos and soft breaths pouring from between your lips as you press your weight against Soap, shoving your breast as far into his mouth as he can take. You kiss the crown of his head, whispering a good boy against his skin.

He practically whines, bucking his hips upwards, relishing in how your body grounds him into the sofa cushions. He releases your breast with a pop and quickly takes the other one into his hand, sealing his lips over it with a hum. He looks up at you through wanting, begging eyes as you toss your head back, squeezing your thighs around his hips. His tongue undulates against your stiffening peak, slobbering around the underside of your breast as he gives you another experimental jerk of his hips. You gasp, rolling your hips back down onto him and staring at him with your lust-blown pupils.

His cock is demanding to be let free. He's going to fuck you hard, he's going to pound you into the chair until you're begging, showing his LT just how much of a good boy he is. He's never felt this blazing forest fire within his veins, setting off nerve after nerve and burning a trail right down to his hard, throbbing member.

He hooks his fingers into the hem of your soaked panties, fully intending to rip them off - but you quickly grab his wrist and yank his hand away. He looks at you, blinking through his trance as a look of confusion settles on his face. "Wha's wrong?"

You giggle his expression - the sound goes straight to his tip with another rush of blood. "These are for Simon." you whisper, slowly pushing yourself off of Soap's lap. He lets his arms fall to his sides with a desperate look, letting you back away, right into Ghost's waiting lap.

"Gonna show ya a thing or two, Johnny." he says, pulling you back to his chest. "Teach ya a few tricks, maybe you'll be able t' keep a woman longer than a day." he pulls a switchblade from his pocket and flicks it open. The blade drags down over your belly - you chew your lip as it electrifies your skin, the tip sliding lower and lower until he's running it over your pussy. The fabric is soaked as he lingers there, the sharp edge barely separated from your cunt by your flimsy, drenched panties.

You stare at Soap, not once breaking eye contact as Ghost slices through the fabric. Soap's mouth is agape in disbelief and lust, enamored by the sight before him. He can't tear his eyes from the view of your sopping, glistening pussy, watching as Simon slides his thick fingers over your folds. He catches his thumb under the hood of your clit and you jolt, shooting a hand down to grab his wrist - but he doesn't stop. You whine and mewl, leaning your head back against his shoulder as he flicks the bud, strumming over it slowly.

He stares Soap in the eyes, watching his reaction. "Alright there, Johnny?"

He's drooling, mouth hung open, hypnotized by the way your muscles clench with each stroke of Simon’s thumb. “… Aye…” he manages to say – his fingers dig into the cushions beneath him as he tries to control the urge to tear across the room and drive his cock into your cunt, fucking you against his lieutenant’s chest the way you deserve: rough and hard. Simon’s been teasing you too long; you need to be ravaged, orgasm after orgasm pulled from you, faster than you can think.

“Let me have a go, yea?” he says boldly, looking at Simon with desperation. “That’s what this is, right? Ye want me to fuck ‘er nice? I’ll do it. I’ll do it, sir – I’ll take good care of her-“

“No you won’t.” Simon interjects before the dog can get too riled up. His fingers are now strumming up and through your folds, and you’re panting and staring at Johnny with needy desire. “’S why you can’t keep anyone. You’re too eager.”

The truth shoots through Soap’s chest like an arrow, and he meets Simon’s gaze. He’s obviously rock-hard in his trousers, he won’t even attempt to hide it. Simon’s got a cocky, knowing smirk on his face, and you… poor you is just wishing Simon would spit out what he wants to say, so the three of you could get on with the show.

“Gonna teach you a few secrets, sergeant.” Simon says, and Soap isn’t sure what to think about having his rank used in this situation. “My girl needs to cum.” He pulls his fingers away from you – you whine in frustration, but are quickly silenced when two, thick digits are stuffed into your mouth. You obediently clean off your own slick with your tongue, looking back down at Johnny with a heavy, lidded stare.

“I’ll make her cum.” Soap says quickly. If this is a matter of whether or not he can make someone cum, he’ll pass that test easily.

“You’ll do it right.” Simon growls. “Need to understand the difference between getting’ your cock wet and pleasuring ‘er. ‘S my girl ‘n I won’t have you roughhousing ‘er. Got it?”

Soap’s throat bobs as he swallows. It was another task, another order from his superior. He clears his mind of any preprogrammed, lustful thoughts, sent straight to his brain from his achingly hard member – this wasn’t about him. It was about following instructions. He was a good soldier, he could do that much.

“Yes sir.”

Simon nods. He shifts hips, pulling his fingers from your lipsand grabbing your hips. You grab his forearms for support as he spreads his muscular thigs, forcing your legs farther apart as they rest on either side of his knees. Slick dribbles down from your pussy and onto Simon’s length, which is about to tear a hole through his pants.

“Then get to it. Sick of hearin’ you yap all day about not bein’ able to keep a girl. Put your mouth to good use – we’re about to fix that.”

[fartcloudfartcloud]

Simon Riley x Maid!Reader

based on this text post

Summary: Simon has a house cleaner come clean once a month. What happens when she goes on vacation, and you're her replacement?

warnings: sfw but theres tension 😋, will make an nsfw part two if you guys want it :), Simon being big and scary and offputting per usual, lots of internal dialogue

a/n: loved this concept, and since I actually worked a door to door cleaning job I thought this fit so well and needed to write it. hope u enjoy :)

You took a deep breath.

These were the steps you were to take in this job. You had no reason to feel unsafe or in danger of any sort. Yet, the thought of walking up and knocking on this door had your heart in your stomach.

Simon Riley Is what the work order had listed as the clients name. Ex Military. Large German Shepard named Riley. Liked his wooden floors cleaned with vinegar instead of the regular cleaning solution. Nothing too out of the ordinary.

Except for the entry instructions. The small box on the piece of paper that would normally hold a few finely printed words, things such as "Homeowner will be not be home, key is under welcome mat"

or "Homeowner will be home and located in office on second floor, door will be unlocked"

had big, bold font to start. Your manager had to go in and manually change that detail, and knowing her, that must mean this is serious.

The box reads-

"DO NOT ATTEMPT TO OPEN DOOR. HOMEOWNER IS EX MILITARY AND EXTREMELY STRICT. RING FRONT DOORBELL ONCE AND WAIT."

Yeah. Very normal and not at all gut-wrenching.

You keep taking deep breaths as you go through your routine. Read the work order thoroughly once more, try not to shit yourself, go and grab your equipment, and follow the instructions.

Easy. Just follow the routine.

Your equipment is as big and clunky as usual. With a vacuum on your back, a bucket full of microfiber towels, a backpack full of chemicals, and knee pads on both knees, you knew for sure you were a sight for sore eyes.

You're not quiet as you walk either, each step making every plastic piece of your puzzle clunk and scrape in a cacophony of reminders of why you were here. You thunk and bang your way up the front porch, eyes everywhere but the front door, still taking deep breaths as you try to just focus on your surroundings, taking note of the nice front garden and walkway as you pass.

You finally settle on the front porch, your arms dropping the bucket and preparing yourself for the big push to start this job.

One ring, you remind yourself. Then wait. Deep breath.

You look up to find the door bell, hand pulling up in a search for the button when you see him.

He must have heard you, you decide as he stands behind the screen door with his arms crossed.

Simon Riley is massive, standing what feels like a clean foot taller than you, big muscled arms bulging from his tight t-shirt. They're as big as your head, his thighs probably twice so. His face was pulled down in a heated gaze, though the bottom half of his face was covered by a black mask. He was scary as he stood there, his aura menacing and doing nothing to sooth your nerves.

Yeah, ex Military makes sense, Jesus christ.

"Ya pissed of my dog, allat noise." You jump, the deep british voice startling you as he begins chastising you. His face frowns down it you, his eyes angry. You're speachless, "Well? Talk."

You stammer as you realize you were just sitting and staring in awe, mind suddenly back on track and then derailing again as you have no idea what to say.

The routine, Jesus christ the routine what's the next step. You scramble for your binder, pulling it open to his work order page and looking up at him as you muster up the courage to speak.

"Um, are you, uh, Simon Riley, sir?" You ask, stuttering and staggering between every word.

He reaches foreword and opens the screen door, getting a good look at you first before he can respond.

"Hm. You the cleaning lady?" He questions, the hand not holding the door open now stuffed in the pocket of his pants.

"Mhm, yeah, im- uh. I'm from Housekeeping Heros, you have an appointment for, um-" you start rustling through more pages of the binder, desperate to find the information, needing to prove to yourself more then him you were in the right place.

"I know i 've an appointment," He holds out his hand and halts your movements. You relax, all the horrible conclusions you were drawing coming to an end. Though, as per usual, they were quickly replaced with new ones, his voice still short and snippy with you.

Deep breaths, girl, we can do this.

He points to your small pile of equipment. "Ya need 'elp?"

You shake your head no, suprised he'd offered. Though he just responds with a head shake, motioning to give it here with his hands. And you do, you don't even second guess it, handing him your bucket and backpack without a second word, something in you submitting to him without a care in the world.

He turns around and walks everything into the kitchen where he gently rests it on the table, softer then you were expecting. You follow him in, feeling like a stray with your legs tucked between your legs as you fet settled. He looks at you expectantly.

Not sure what he's looking for, you start explaining the cleaning process, using your binder as a reference and pointing to each section. He stands behind you, arms crossed again and chin tucked down as he nods along with your words.

He points to the vacuum on your back, "Not round Riley, ya 'ear me?" He scolds. You take note of the large German Shepard snorring lightly on the couch.

"And none o' this shite," He kicks at your knee pads, pointing to a mop he had in the corner. Thank God, cleaning on your knees always sucked, and why your bullshit company made you do it anyways was a marvel.

"Oh, thank you!" You chirped up. He seemed to scowl further when your voice pitched up, so you slink back in on yourself. Understood, point taken, sir.

You still were not feeling great, the pit in your stomach unrelenting as you organize your stuff.

He looms close by. You figured he would, not doubting the "extremely strict" next to "ex military" on your work order at all.

You start with the first step of your process, filling the bucket up in the sink and soaking your towels in the cleaning solution.

"Where's yer boss?" He grumbles from behind you, making you jump.

"Um, Nancy?" Bucket now full, you throw the towels into the warm water with a dash of solution.

"Eh, whatever her name is," He grumbles. How polite.

"Haha, um." You giggle akwardly, "she's with family right now, I think," you stutter, trying to speak loud enough that he could hear you clearly.

He just hmphs in response. As your towels soak in the water, you reach for your extendable feather duster and start wiping the top corners of the room.

"Whats yer name?" He grumbles. It shocks you when he says it. He couldn't seem to care less about the other workers name, but he was interested in yours?

You told him, quiet, "sir," peeping out after. He just hmms again, leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed as he watched you work.

It was nerve-wracking, having him over your shoulder. He hadn't said anything yet, but it felt like you could feel the complaints waiting to come. You just kept up the deep breathing, taking the clothes out of the water and dispersing them on the countertops throughout the house.

He had a very large home, no mcmansion that took up half the street, but a pretty place tucked in a nice down town area. Honestly, if the home and neighborhood wasn't so gorgeous, you probably would've turned around and told your supervisor to give the damn house to someone else.

But thankfully, or not, Simon seemed to harbor a certain comfort for his homes presentation. The indoors of his home reflected it as well, the house put together like it was being staged, every inch perfectly in place.

Maybe that's why it's not so surprising when the first complaint does manage to leave his lips in the form of a hiss as you go to open a cabinet door.

"Oi, what do you think yer doing?" He hisses, rushing over to grab your wrist and pull it from the knob. You gasp as he's suddenly in your space and touching you, flinching as he does.

"Um, I just gotta m-make sure the insides don't need to be wiped down, sir," your muscles shake as you speak— him actually coming over and grabbing had you a little shook up.

He waved his hand infront of your face, dismissing whatever you have to say, "None of that. Don't need'a open nothing that ain't yours." you just nod, taking your first breath once he's finally out of your space.

That would've been a very good thing to include in the work order, Nancy.

Well, at least that's a few less things to worry about cleaning, though you may have failed your task of not shitting your pants, because good lord. He's right back to his perch on the wall, observing you carefully now.

You get into your routine, floating room to room and doing each task per the work order. You slowly scrub the slight musky smoke smell that lingers throughout, instead replacing it with the smell of cinnamon and detergent.

He likes watching you work, but he knows he doesn't show it, not a flutter or twitch anywhere to be seen. He growls small, careful, watch it, leave it, keeping you on edge through every movement.

You do move much faster than your college though, much more gracefully. He notices your wandering eyes, lingering on the photos on the wall and the dates on his calender. He let's you get away with it, for now. Figured he'd picked on you enough, should probably just let you finish your work.

That is, until you approach the end of your routine. You'd been scrubbing and whipping and Simon snipping and snyding for almost an hour now, you'd made excellent time and you hope Simon knows that.

It's all you can think about, actually. Him and the way he has you doting on him, some broken part of you combined with the fear his giant stature instills has you easily folding to do whatever he says and respond to his every grunt. It has your mind a little clouded, even more so as you swing through every step of your routine with practiced care.

It was finally time for the last step of the routine, and you shivered out a breath as you unwrapped the vacuum. Simon had sank a little further away, now sitting at the kitchen table with his eyes glued to a newspaper, anxiety settling slightly without his prying eyes.

You get the cord untangled and laid out across the carpet, searching the perimeter of the room for an outlet. You couldn't see any in the open, and not wanting to risk pissing off Simon for moving furniture, you start to round the corner in your search.

Suddenly, you're against the wall, a giant hand against your sternum as the breath is knocked out of your lungs. His face is in yours, eyebrows furrowed and breath hot on your face as he spoke.

"Tha fuck ya think your doin'?" youre confused and breathless, small under him as he leers above.

"I dont- im-" "Been nothing but nice to ya since you clambered yer way up my damn porch, and I gave you one fuckin' rule." His voiced is raised at you now, chastising you in that brazen, gravely tone. "One! and what do you go and try to do?"

You're just confused, what had you done to elicit this response from him? You thought he was complacent and quiet at the table, what of his million little rules could you have broken?

That's when you see it. Her, you should say. Rylie, the big German Shepard he'd warned you to by no means vacuum around, was bundled up on the couch, inches from where you stand.

Fuck. how had you forgotten.

"Sir, i- I didn't realize, I didn't know she was there sir i-" You desperately try to make an excuse for yourself, but he's just shaking his head at you.

"Do ya think flutterin yer eyelashes a little is gonna make everything better?" He mocks you, his big blue eyes locked on you. You shake your head no, half of it to answer him, the other half just you shivering where you stand.

"No sir- I'm sorry sir I didnt- I forgot you told me and-"

He's clicking his tongue at you, a tsk tsk to put you to shame. To your suprise, each click when straight to your core, and suddenly the heat in the room is rising. Your body is flushed and your sure your face matches, if the way his eyes crinkle when he looks up at you says anything.

His hand doesn't leave your sternum, as he speaks, Inches from your face, "too good at this to be forgetting," he shakes his head, the praise a little shocking, and the soft, "too pretty," that follows it hammers the fact.

You breath is caught in your chest again as he leans into your ear, eyes wide and mouth clamped as he murmurs a deep.

"So how do you think I should go bout making sure you remember?"

[luveline]

pleaseee anything angsty with bombshell!reader and spencer!! love you

love you!

When Jason Gideon dies, it’s alone with his murderer. Isolated from friends and family, years after you last heard from him. Spencer hasn’t spoken to him since he left, and yet the ruin on his face when it’s confirmed to be Gideon churns your stomach. 

He rushes out of the room. 

You look at Gideon, dead, and regret that you never got along. You barely knew him. So when Derek leaves to follow Spencer out, you don’t go with them, thinking Derek has better common ground. 

“You okay?” you ask Hotch quietly. 

He nods, solemn. “Do you want to go check on Reid?” he asks, equally hushed. 

“I think Morgan has it for now.” You turn away from Gideon. You don’t want to see him dead, it’s too scary when it’s someone you know. It reminds you that it could’ve been you, or Spencer. 

You don’t find time to speak to your poor bookworm until later that night when you’ve been forced to retire in dinky motel rooms. You and Spencer used to share because you were the only person normal enough not to complain when he infodumps, and because you were fond of him. Then because you were best friends, and now because you’re in love. How lucky you’ve been. 

He’s always had it rough, though. 

You’d asked him multiple times throughout the day if he was okay, and every now and then he’d nodded or sniffled, but now he’s alone with you his facade fades completely, and you want to have a real talk. 

His shoulders rock. You reach out for him. He breaks for the bathroom. 

“Spencer?” you ask, startled. 

The door shuts hard between you, frame shaking.

“Spencer, are you okay?” 

You cross the brown carpeting to grab the handle. You pause there, heart dropping as the weak sound of muffled sobbing reaches your ears. “Spencer,” you say, soft, and without any teasing. You’re capable of seriousness sometimes. “Sweetheart, are you okay?” 

“Can I be alone?” he asks.

He sounds strained. 

“I’d rather you weren’t. I don’t know what you’ll do.” 

“What?” he asks. 

“People do strange things when they’re upset. I just want to be with you, that’s all.” 

“I’m fine,” he says shortly. 

You’d be offended, but like you said. People do strange things when they’re upset, and this is worse than just being upset. This is grief. Intangible, cruel. Spencer has a history of doing things that aren’t good for him when he’s hurting. You’ve no interest in leaving him alone. 

“Spencer… I love you. I want to be near you.”

Your straight-forwardness pays off. 

“Okay,” he says. “It’s not locked.” 

That’s reassuring. You open the door, find him standing at the sink with his cheeks wet with thick tears. He crumples when he sees you, hiding his face in his hands. 

You’re not sure what to do. Loving someone, you tend to love all of them, and you’ve yet to find parts of Spencer you couldn’t adore, but he just lost somebody important to him and you have no idea how to handle it. You decide to try, whether jumping into it will do any good or not. You walk right into his chest and hug him. 

“Sorry,” you murmur, “I love you. I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” He takes a shaky, odd breath, like he might laugh. He tries to as he holds your shoulders. “God, it’s okay, don’t be sorry.” 

“I am. It’s not fair. I never want you to lose anyone.” 

He presses his lips into a hard line and nods, prompting tears down his cheeks one after the other. “It’s okay.” 

It’s not okay. Spencer cries and you watch him, his hands weak on your shoulders. His hair is greasy at the roots from all the heat of being upset, his face pink, his eyes swollen and sore. His lashes are sticking together in dark triangles, while his sclera turns bloodshot. It’s clear that today has been extremely hard on him, and you should’ve done more. “I should’ve come after you, I’m sorry. I thought Morgan would have a better chance at making you feel better.” You wipe his cheeks, and tuck lank hair behind his ears. “I need you to know I’m here for you.” 

He’s putting on a brave face, slowly but surely. “I know that.” 

“Listen, do you want to shower?” you ask. 

“I want to sit down forever.” 

“We’ll shower first. I’ll come in with you, alright? We can wash your hair, the warm water will be good for your eyes.” You frown sympathetically. “You’ve cried all day.” 

“I can’t believe he’s gone. I wish I’d tried harder to see him. To talk to him again.” 

“You can… I know it’s not the same, but you can tell me. Anything you wanted to say to him, I’ll listen. You can tell me everything.” 

He nods again. More brave face, more unnerving, fake smile. 

You run your hands down his hair, and use your hands to tilt his head forward gently. “You can be alone if you really want to, but I just can’t have that closed door. You understand?” 

“No, I want to shower with you.” He sniffs. “Sorry if I scared you.” 

“It’s not scary.” You curl your arm behind his neck to pull him in for a careful hug. You hold him without moving, relieved when he holds you back, though his hands are limp where they’d usually be rubbing at your shoulders. “It wasn’t scary, I mean. I didn’t mean to suggest you’d do something, but I think the last thing you should be right now is alone. Thanks for letting me stay.” 

He breathes in your neck. “This is nice.” 

You bend back to encourage him further into your arms. “You’re doing so well,” you murmur, rubbing his back in a slow stroke, “you can get through this. We’ll do right by him, I promise. You’re not alone.” 

“I used to feel it. He was the first person who… really looked out for me, before he left.” Spencer sniffles, glassy eyes softening where he looks down at you. “Nobody’s ever stayed with me. No one.” 

“Well, I’m not going anywhere.” 

He sniffles again. “I know… Will you still shower with me?” 

“Mm-hm. Wash your hair for you, if you want me to.” 

“Please.” 

“Costs a kiss,” you say softly. 

“You want one from me right now?” he asks. He’s joking, because he knows you always want one. 

Your spirits finally begin to recuperate. “Plant one on me, handsome… only if you want to.” 

He turns away from you to wipe his face, both of you laughing, him wetly, you in relief. Both with a little bit of guilt. Maybe because life goes on without the people who pass, and that will always feel wrong. 

He turns back to you. Sadness darkens his eyes, but he closes them and leans down tentatively to kiss you. 

You take his soft one, borrow a firmer one, and wrap him up in another hug. Love you, love you, love you, you think. You’re going to make sure that he’s okay. 

[syndrossi]

And now for a continuation of what I'm calling the Rescue AU aka "what if Ser Thoren successfully extracted the boys from the Gates of the Moon?" Part 1 and premise can be found here. It ended pretty abruptly, and so we pick up pretty abruptly! This one has a more proper "end" to it, though it's not finished.

x~x~x

“May we go to the market on River Row?” Rhaegar asked. He seemed to pick up on Daemon’s surprise at the request, adding, “Laenor mentioned it before. He said they have all manner of wares from within the realm, and even from across the Narrow Sea.”

“We may,” Daemon said, warmed by the pleased smile he received in response. “Do you seek anything in particular?”

He had presented them with gifts for three of their name days thus far, but that still left five. And some of his other planned gifts would not be ready for months. Any insight into what his children enjoyed was sorely welcome. They spent so little time at play, too serious about their studies.

“Princess Rhaenyra said that your name day is in less than three moons,” Rhaegar said, smile turning stern. “So you must not look if we choose something for you.”

Daemon had not celebrated his name day in nearly a decade, other than alone with Caraxes and one of the few barrels of good wine that made it on occasion to the Stepstones by way of Driftmark. His last true celebration had been a pleasant supper with Viserys, Aemma, and Rhaenyra, followed by a drunken night of debauchery in Flea Bottom that had earned his brother’s disapproval in the morning upon hearing of it.

It had been only two moons after Viserys had quietly taken him aside and “suggested” that he take Lord Beesbury as an advisor in his yet-new position of master of coin. Daemon had known the true source of the suggestion: Otto Hightower. Daemon had been only three moons in the office and still learning its scope; bringing in the former master of coin to all but do his job for him had been clearly intended to undermine him by implying he could not manage on his own.

That was the one office Daemon had resigned from before his brother could directly dismiss him, as he made a habit of. That had been before he’d realized just how short his leash would be for any office while Otto Hightower whispered in his ear simultaneously of Daemon’s immaturity and ambition.

A hand squeezed his, jolting him from his thoughts. “Father?” It was Rhaegar’s voice, gentle with concern, rather than stilted as it could sometimes be when addressing him.

Daemon smoothed wisps of light hair from his son’s forehead, then rested his hands on either cheek, heart a jumbled mess between the sentiment and the barest trace of wariness that lurked in his eyes whenever Daemon behaved in a way he did not expect. He kissed his brow, vowing that one day Rhaegar would come to expect only love at the hands of family, rather than the cold indifference—or worse—he had suffered under the Royce household.

“You can give me no greater gift than your company that day,” he said, transferring a hand to Jon’s cheek as well.

Jon gave a solemn nod. “But if I wrap Rhaegar to leave outside your door, who will wrap me?”

Daemon nearly choked on his laugh, the humor entirely unexpected. His eldest was quite sneaky in that regard, though both had a similarly clever wit. He feared for whoever might earn their wrath once they reached adolescence.

“Would you like a small purse apiece for the market, then?” he asked. “So that you are spared solving such a riddle?”

“There is no need,” Rhaegar said, revealing a bulging purse beneath his jacket. “Uncle Viserys gave us an allowance for it.”

“That was very generous of him,” Daemon said, smiling to mask a sudden flood of resentment at the reminder that nothing that he had to offer them was his own. It was all through Viserys and the royal treasury. He had no holding of his own to build an income, nor would he.

Curious stares followed them through the streets, news of the strange circumstances of his sons’ birth having traveled beyond the court. Laenor had informed him with great enthusiasm that a troupe of mummers were at work on a new play with a working title of “The Hidden Princes and the Witch of Runestone.”

If his sons were uneasy with the attention, they did not show it, more fascinated by the sights and sounds of the city. I should have taken them out sooner, Daemon thought fondly. There was a minstrel at one corner, playing the lute outside of a tavern to lure travelers in, and Rhaegar’s head tilted a moment, listening, before his eyes brightened. He hurried over, Daemon and Jon a few steps behind, and joined the minstrel in his song, his higher pitch shifting into an effortless harmony.

The minstrel looked startled by the sudden accompaniment, and even perhaps dismayed to find himself outperformed by a small child, but his eyes took in Daemon as he approached, and the princely attire his sons were wearing—as well as the growing crowd, drawn by the unusual spectacle as well as the sweetness of the song—and the man seemed to then accept the situation as one of good fortune.

Daemon smiled as he watched Rhaegar, enjoying his son’s obvious joy at an excuse to sing. The song was familiar to him, one of a wandering hedge knight in search of a maiden he had spied bathing in the moonlight and fallen in love with, but rendered nearly haunting with the addition of Rhaegar’s voice, which made it into a duet of man and maiden.

At the final verse, the minstrel made as though to bow, only for Rhaegar to continue on alone for another four, and the tale went from one of happy reunion to bittersweet loss as the maiden revealed the true reason she had evaded the hedge knight’s pursuit: the waters had told her that when she found love at last, they would have but a year before death claimed them.

There were very few dry eyes in the crowd at the song’s conclusion, and there was a light ache in his own throat, but the ending seemed to upset Jon in particular, so Daemon wrapped him up in his arms. “It is only a song.”

“If he had not gone after her, they both would have lived,” Jon said into his abdomen.

“Perhaps so,” Daemon murmured, stroking fingers through his hair as he pondered why the song had touched him so. Elys and Corwyn had died two years after the twins’ birth, and his sons had thought them their parents most of their lives. Rhea’s death was still fresh for them as well, he supposed. “But the life of a hedge knight is not without peril. Perhaps he would have found death another way.”

Jon frowned, not liking that response, and Daemon sighed, releasing him. “Come, let us collect your brother from his admirers.”

The minstrel was splitting his attention between collecting the shower of coin that had fallen at the song’s conclusion and interrogating his son on where he had heard the additional verses.

“From a harpist who wandered through the Gates of the Moon,” Rhaegar said, beginning to look uncomfortable.

Daemon quickly moved into the man’s view, fixing him with a look that halted further questioning.

“My prince,” the minstrel said, bowing with a flourish. “What an honor to have the privilege of sharing a song with your son.”

“Indeed,” Daemon said, beckoning Rhaegar back to his side. “I suggest you content yourself with your good fortune.”

“I am sorry,” Rhaegar said once they were away from the gathered crowd, flicking anxious glances in Daemon’s direction. “I did not mean to—”

“Nonsense,” Daemon said firmly. “You may sing whenever you like. You upstaged that minstrel and he knew it.”

Rhaegar moved to walk at Jon’s side, whispering something quiet to him—another apology, perhaps? Jon shrugged, the motion stiff, but he summoned a small smile in response. Fortunately, the distraction of River Row seemed to take their minds off the matter. The street stank of fish, and was awash in colorful stalls loudly peddling their goods.

They were not even at the market square yet, and he had to corral them back within reach several times with stern warnings of pickpockets and unsavory characters who grew in number as Aegon’s Hill grew more distant.

The chaos was nigh unmanageable by the time they reached the market. They still drew glances, Daemon’s hair and attire—and Dark Sister at his side—making his identity plain. But the people in the market were here for one of two purposes: to sell or be sold to. They kept their gawking to sideways glances for the most part, aside from one very bold hand that curiously reached for his hair before being swatted aside.

The strong scent of cooked meat and vegetables from the side of the market that served tempting dishes that could be held in one’s hand to eat while walking covered up the worst of the encroaching smell of raw fish and nearby sewage. There were sweeter fares as well, including a stall that spun sugar into elaborate shapes to cool and be sold.

The peddlers’ calls grew particularly loud whenever they were noticed, to the point where Jon was beginning to look overwhelmed. Daemon was not without his own tension. Every voice that carried an accent from the Free Cities, and especially the occasional spoken Valyrian, transported him back to the crush and throng of the Stepstones.

They eventually reached a portion of the market that was less frantic, where he was no longer touching four different bodies at once, and Daemon slowly relaxed. The boys went from stall to stall with Daemon looking on a few steps back, moving with them. Occasionally they would lean in for hushed discussion, dark hair against light, then turn to him in unison with appraising eyes before resuming their conversation.

Daemon had no idea what they would decide upon for gifts, but he was greatly looking forward to finding out what they had deemed worthy. They had found something at the present stall, which seemed to be an assortment of leather goods ranging from cow’s hide to more exotic sources.

Jon looked back toward him. “Turn around,” he ordered. “She has to finish making it and then wrapping it.”

Daemon gamely turned away. “Tell me when it is safe to look.”

He contented himself with scanning the rest of the current extension of the market, occasionally meeting the quickly averted gaze of an onlooker startled to be caught. That was nothing he wasn’t accustomed to when walking about openly, though years ago in Flea Bottom, the denizens had come to view his frequent presence among them as something to be expected. When he truly wished to walk about without fuss, he went cloaked and hooded.

A startled cry rang out back toward the portion of the market they had just left, and Daemon glanced that way to see that one of the food stalls had caught flame. He could make out the shouts for water, and a few nearby peddlers flapped with cloth at the fire, seeking to smother it. It seemed to only inflame it somehow, the fire almost dancing from one stall to another, which then caught.

Daemon recognized in the louder murmurs of the crowd the sound of unease yielding to panic, his own alarm growing with it. Panic was unpredictable, and the crowd would seek whatever outlet they thought offered safety, willing to trample whoever got in their way.

He turned back to the stall, ready to sweep his children up and leave before the chaos reached them, only to find the stall empty and his sons nowhere in view. His mind blanked with incomprehension for a moment, breath catching in his throat, and he closed the distance to the stall in an instant, looking around wildly. His sons were nowhere to be seen, but there was a woman’s body in rapidly pooling blood slumped at the other side of the stall.

No. Daemon’s hand closed around Dark Sister’s hilt, an icy fear flooding his veins. He took a deep breath to call for them, only to freeze at the sudden prick of something sharp and metal against his back.

“Quiet,” a voice said behind him, soft and unaccented. “Do you wish to see your sons?”

“Where are they?” Daemon asked, holding perfectly still. He might be quick enough to move before the man behind him sunk his blade in, but he did not know if there were more. There must be, to have taken his sons away. “What do you want?”

“If you do as I say, I shall take you to them. Fight, and you will never see them again.” The man waited, as though to see if he intended to put up a struggle. “Remove your hand from your blade.”

Daemon stared forward, paralyzed by indecision. He could mean to kill me anyway. This may be intended to buy time so that they may take the boys further out of reach.

But what could he—or they—even want? If it was ransom they sought, then the more captives, the better. If it was revenge, they would have killed his sons, and Daemon after.

“That dragon blood of yours is worth a great deal,” the voice said with a hint of impatience. “But only balanced against the trouble you might cause. Remove your hand.”

Ransom, then. Daemon clutched that hope to his chest and released his grip on Dark Sister. His hand was grabbed and twisted behind his back, firmly but not painfully so, and he was guided between stalls, out of view. Then, something smooth and rounded was pressed into his hand.

“Drink this.”

The shouts in the market square had grown louder, and the wind was beginning to blow smoke in their direction. Daemon had spotted the occasional gold cloak earlier, but there were none to be seen now, the men likely moving to seek control of the fire or the crowd. There were far more pressing things for the people milling about the market to pay attention to than a prince tucked just out of view, a blade to his back.

“What is it?” Daemon asked, though he could guess. If it was not poison, then it was something intended to dull the senses and render him easy to move without struggle.

“Drink,” the man repeated. “Or I spill that royal blood onto the cobblestone, which would be a shameful waste.”

Daemon brought the bottle into view, its milky glass obscuring its contents save for a faintly darker line where the liquid within sloshed. A tiny cork served as a stopper.

I cannot see them again if I am sliced open in River Row.

Ransom could be paid. Daemon knew that Viserys would not hesitate on his behalf or his sons’, whatever objections Otto might raise.

He brought the cork to his teeth, and pulled it loose, then tipped the liquid back. He held it in his mouth for a few seconds, debating whether he could feign swallowing, but a hand closed over his lips and pinched his nostrils shut until he swallowed, at which point it moved to grip his right arm again. The man made no move to lead him anywhere, seeming content to wait for the potion to take its effect.

“You have not hurt them?” Daemon asked, unable to keep the desperation from his voice.

“They are not harmed,” the man said with a hint of amusement. “Though I cannot say the same for some of the others. I did warn them about Jon.”

A dizziness rolled over Daemon, followed by a heaviness that came in waves that settled deeper each time. At last he was prodded forward, and it took all his concentration to put one foot ahead of the other. Then another. Then—

[revasserium]

had me at hello

todoroki shouto; 4,082 words; fluff, tiny sprinkle of angst, no "y/n", summer camp, canon-divergent, domestic fluff, teeth-rotting fluff, summer-time romance, self-indulgent as all living fuck

summary: nothing lasts forever, not even goodbye. or, in which todoroki shouto discovers that summer flings really aren't his thing

a/n: chat we are SO back. back on this todoroki brain rot GRIND!!! and as opposed to posting at the last possible second for @pixelcafe-network's challenge friday like i did last time, i'm posting mine first this time to make up for it! the theme was "saying goodbye to a summer love" ♡⸜(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)⸝♡

It was to be a whirlwind summer, one that’s different from every one that came before it. Todoroki had thought, naively, that summer training camp would end up being just that — just another summer thing.

And he’d never been fond of the heat.

But you — you’d swept in like the rain, all bluster and brilliant, summer-thunder laughter. You struck across his storm-ridden skies like a spark of lightning, setting all his forests ablaze.

At first, he didn’t think much of it. Didn’t think much of the volunteers that the Pussycats had brought along to help around camp. Groupies, he’d dismissed, and thought of it no more. But the first night everyone came back, exhausted and sore and sweating in places they’d never thought could produce sweat, you’d been there along with the others (he doesn’t remember their names now, but he remembers yours), passing around cold water and setting up the food for dinner.

“Here,” you hand him a water bottle; he dips his head, his chest still heaving from exertion. He twists off the cap and gulps down half the bottle, feeling a cool trickle escape the corner of his mouth to run down his chin. He wipes at it with the back of his hand just as you cast him a grin before turning around to hand another water bottle to Kirishima.

Todoroki swallows, his palms warm, watching as you laugh at something someone says. He lingers on the gloss in your hair and the ease of your smile. He wonders what kind of quirk you might have; he catches himself wondering, and then proceeds to wonder why he’s wondering at all.

He thinks it’s the heat — fanning himself, he looks away — glancing up at the smoldering sky before sighing and capping his water bottle.

“They must love you at school, huh?” you ask, your voice jolting him out of one reverie and into another. Dinner’s almost done, and he’d wandered toward the edge of the wood for a moment of quiet, of peace or sanctity. He hadn’t noticed you following him, and that in and of itself should have set his senses on high. But, the air is tepid and the humidity heavy, and Todoroki only has time to cock a single eyebrow before you smile and continue —

“Your quirk — keeps you cool in the summer, and warm in the winter. Useful, no?”

He watches you watching him, your eyes huge and full of the dancing flames. He looks back towards the rest of his classmates, all chatting and laughing, grouped loosely with one another, Ashido flitting from one group to the other like the social butterfly she is.

“It’s alright,” Todoroki answers, surprising even himself. He drops his eyes, fixing his gaze on a point just above his own feet before you laugh, the sound drawing his attention back towards you.

“You’re not a very good liar, but that’s okay. It’s not a bad thing.”

You shoot him another grin.

“Your quirk,” he says, clearing his throat slightly as he feels a distinct heat prickling up the sides of his neck, “can I ask what it is?”

You list your head to one side, your expression curiously blank. Before you shoot him a smile that can only be called devious.

You nudge him with an arm before dancing away, but that momentary contact is all you’d needed. Todoroki feels his whole body relax, feels some of the tension drop from his shoulders, the strange nervousness that had been coiling in his stomach unclench.

“Guess!”

Someone calls your name from over your shoulder.

“Coming!”

You give him one final wink before dashing off, leaving him dazed, head reverberating as if someone had rung him through like a bell on a Sunday morning.

The weeks had passed in a strange blur after that, as if some vengeful giant had gone stomping through his memories, dragging a large hand across the vivid scenes, smearing the colors and scrambling the timelines. He remembers the ever-present ache in his muscles, the eternal shortness of breath that had accompanied the first few weeks, but he also remembers your presence in the evenings — always in the evenings, the shadow of you flickering around each and every one of his classmates, mostly asking about their days, but sometimes placing a comforting hand here or there.

He remembers your touch well, the gentle anchor of it, the immediate relief.

“Your quirk… it has something to do with feelings, doesn’t it?” he asks one night, a towel draped around his shoulders from a recent shower, his hair still damp in the early evening dark.

You flash him an enigmatic smile, swinging your feet as you turn your head back towards the liquid moonlight casting pale shadows along the edges of the summer-still leaves.

“What makes you say that?”

“Just…” Todoroki joins you, letting his arm brush along yours, his eyes following your gaze as he too sweeps the now empty campgrounds, the remnants of the barbeque fires still smoldering in their pits, the smoke twisting towards the cloudless sky like so many misty-tendrilled streams.

“Had a feeling.”

“A feeling, huh?” you echo, laughing softly, looking back down.

Todoroki doesn’t push you, but you don’t deny it either.

“You’re not wrong,” you say, after a brief moment of silence, “my quirk — it’s not offensive, or even defensive but… if I’m touching someone, I can… siphon their feelings into me,” and as if to demonstrate, you gently press your leg to his, and Todoroki feels the tired wariness drain from him, the feeling of ease trickling through him like hot water cascading down his skin.

He stifles a soft groan, feeling a blush press up against his cheeks.

You move your leg away, leaning back till your head is resting against the back of the park bench, poised at the edge of the large encampment.

“But that’s…” Todoroki searches for the right word — somehow ‘useful’ doesn’t seem quite right.

“No, you’re right,” you say, giggling even as you save him the necessity of finishing his sentence, “it’s a good quirk to have. It’s… necessary.”

But the way you say that word sounds a little too much like heartbreak for Todoroki to ignore.

“You said siphon…” he says, after a brief stretch of quiet, and he tastes the word on his tongue as if saying it for the first time.

“Yeah, that’s right,” you say, and longing is too close a friend of his for him not to notice it threaded through your voice like a secret.

“Which means… whatever you take from the person you’re touching… you have to feel it too, right?”

You lick your lips, your eyes flickering down to your hands, palms open.

“Yes.”

It’s a simple answer, but one that lands with a gut-punch of implication. Todoroki swallows, shifting ever so slightly to let his knee rest against yours. He tries his hardest to focus on calmness, to project relief. You turn to flash him a smile.

“You’re sweet,” and he hadn’t meant to blush, hadn’t meant for his heart to kick up like a drumbeat, but does. And he knows, instinctively, that you’d felt it too — passing through from his skin to yours by some strange glitch of nature.

He makes to pull away, but you reach out to rest a hand on his arm.

And almost instantly, he feels his heartbeat calm, feels the heat receding. But it isn’t like before — it isn’t the feeling of having something leave his body, but rather having something pressed in. Like a warm blanket settling over his shoulders, or a cold hand to ward off unwanted heat. Your calm seeps into him like summer rain, cooling his mind until he’s breathing steady.

He blinks down at you, startled.

“It goes both ways,” you say, and he can see the twin glow of warmth high in your cheeks. He spares a moment wondering if that blush had once belonged to him, if you were just holding onto it for a bit longer before letting it go. You move your hand away and he has to fight down the urge to pull it back.

“Oh,” is the only thing he can think of to say.

You are everywhere after that — perhaps not in the physical sense, but Todoroki seems to have lost the ability to not notice you. Or maybe he’s just gained the ability to — to what? Develop a crush? Is that even what this is? He doesn’t know — he’s never had one before to compare it to.

But he can’t help now how instantly his attention snags on the sound of your voice, like a stray thread on a mesh-wire fence, or how an unshakable shiver traces down his spine whenever you’re near. He feels childish, like he did when he was too little to control his quirk. But he’d learned since then, hadn’t he?

Hadn’t he?

“It’s all just hormones!” he overhears Ashido say to Uraraka one night, the girls all clustered together on a single long sofa, limbs against limbs, cheeks pillowed on shoulders, a careless sort of closeness threading them all together. Todoroki’s never thought himself a jealous person, but watching them now, he wonders what it might be like to be able to touch a person with little to no thought at all, for it all to be second nature.

Uraraka blushes something furious, crinkling her nose.

“I — I don’t know…”

“I’m pretty sure whatever Mineta-chan is feeling can’t just be explained by hormones,” Asui says, her eyes huge and dark even as Ashido rolls her eyes.

“Maybe not just hormones, but that’s a large part of it!” Ashido insists.

Dangling on the side of the sofa, one foot tapping to music only she can hear, Jiro glances over and shrugs.

“Boys are weird.”

The girls all make varying sounds of agreement, and Todoroki forces his feet to move, thankful for the thick slab of shadow that had kept him from view of the general common area. He stares ahead as he walks down the long length of hallway, wondering if hormones really are the culprit behind whatever the hell this is.

The grueling days bleed into sweat-slick weeks, and somehow, he finds himself seeking you out more and more often. Sometimes after a particularly hard training session, under the guise of needing some “help” recovering (it had come out that Recovery Girl couldn’t make it so the Pussycats had volunteered you as the next best thing), sometimes without any reason at all, other than the simple want of your company.

He finds himself laughing, finds himself reaching for you — and he blames it on the weather, blames it on the tiredness now eternally sunk into his muscles, the soreness that won’t ever quite go away. He tells himself that it’s just a summer thing, to feel so hot that he gets lightheaded, to laugh until his stomach hurts, to feel the inexplicable itch to graze your hand with his when you’re sitting too close and not nearly close enough.

Thinking back, he’d known it would never last. You’d told him early on that you don’t live in the city. But that it’s not too far, if ever he wanted to visit.

“Camp’ll be over in a few weeks,” you say, lying back on a patch of sun-dried grass, beneath a swirling canopy of stars, Todoroki sitting beside you, his arms propping up his torso as he stares up at the sky alongside you.

“Yeah. I’m surprised it’s been so peaceful,” he says.

You laugh, shooting him a curious look.

“Used to getting in trouble?”

“There… seem to be a few of my classmates that attract trouble. Of all kinds.”

“I don’t mind a bit of trouble.”

“Don’t you?”

You grin up at him as he glances down at you.

“Not one bit.”

You feel him shifting as he lies down next to you, your elbows brushing in the grass. He feels a jolt of electricity snake up his arm, coiling in the base of his belly. For a second, he wonders if its a him-feeling, or a you-feeling. And then, he realizes that it doesn’t really matter — and before he knows it, he’s twisting to his side, leaning over just far enough to press his lips to yours.

In the grand scheme of kisses, Todoroki thinks that it might not have been the most well-positioned kiss, or the most well thought-out. And for all everyone calls him genius, this is one thing he’s never really had the chance to practice. Still, by the time he realizes that he’s kissing you, he barely has the chance to reconcile with the fact that you’re kissing him too. You, pressing up against him and pulling him down all at once.

His lips on yours, and yours on his — an endless echo of this kiss, and this kiss, and just this kiss. He feels his heartbeat like a reverberation, because he thinks he can feel yours too. He loses feeling in all his limbs, and wonders briefly if this is what free-falling might be like — to feel weightless, to be lifted outside of yourself.

You reach up to press a hand to his cheek, and he feels himself being shunted back into his body. He feels each of his limbs like discovering them for the very first time — his fingers tangled in your hair, his other arm wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you in, holding you close. He does not remember pulling away. But he must have, because he remembers gasping for a breath he’s long since lost to the heave of your lungs.

He feels fire, and ice, and the spinning song of a million overhead stars.

“Is this — are you —” he struggles for words but you just smile.

“I don’t know — sometimes when I’m too —” you swallow, a bit breathless yourself, the head-thrumming heat of it all passing between the pair of you like a whisper, or a secret, “when I’m too excited I — I’ll accidentally make someone else feel it too but —”

You look back up to catch his eyes, and he finds himself smiling.

“It’s not just you,” he says, quiet and sure. Because this, whatever this is, is more than just a quirk — more than just the accidental bleeding of feelings from one body to another. More than simple empathy — it’s entropy.

A chaos of feelings.

Because he’d felt it bubbling inside him, alone at night, staring up at the moon-slatted ceiling. Wondering what it might be like to hold your hand.

And maybe this is what Ashido had been talking about — with hormones and urges and all the woes that come with being a teenage boy. But he doesn’t care; there’s time to worry about that later. For now, he thinks he’d just like to kiss you again.

And so, he does.

Time passes by strangely after that — and though neither of you had intended on it, the budding relationship between the pair of you had become a known secret. No one had ever called it out by name, but no one questions Todoroki either when he wanders off after dinner. No one blinks twice when you press a hand to the back of his neck after morning drills, smiling when he lets out a soft, pleased sigh.

Even years later, Todoroki can’t quite piece together the exact timeline of things. He remembers the late nights, staying up just to talk to you, wandering through the woods, you jumping at a rabbit or a squirrel, and him slipping his hand through yours with a silent reassurance. He remembers telling you about himself — even though he doesn’t remember you asking. About his father, his mother, his siblings, his scar.

He remembers how you’d reached out and held his anger and sorrow and resentment in your upturned palms, how you cradled them like bruised fruit, with delicate fingers and a smile that looked not one bit like pity. How you did not run.

He remembers you telling him about your childhood too, of your quirk being used and abused by careless adults and ruthless children alike. Of how your parents had used you as one might use a bad therapist, like a dumping ground for unwanted emotions. Of how you learnt to deal with the unbearable weight of all those feelings — things that a little girl should never have to learn how to deal with on her own.

He remembers how you held him and he held you, and how you both had allowed yourselves to hold and be held by each other.

But what he remembers most is the ending — the last night of camp, when he knew he’d be leaving the next morning. All the bags are packed, and they’d all come out stronger. It had been an uneventful, tiring sort of camp, where nothing happened except daily training, but for a class full of teens with super-human powers and the uncanny ability to attract life-threatening situations, it could be called a resounding success.

“Excited to be going back to school?” you ask.

He watches you drag a pale pink nail polish over your fingers, one by one, blowing on each finger as you smooth out the color with steady swipes.

“I guess so. We have provisional license exams coming up, so I doubt we’ll get much rest after this.”

“Aww… but I guess no one ever said becoming a hero was an easy thing, right?” you laugh, tossing him a good-natured wink.

He sighs, leaning back against the wall of your camp room.

“Nothing worth having is ever easy.”

“Hm…” you hum, finishing off your manicure and carefully screwing the brush back into the nail polish bottle.

Todoroki turns to find you frowning slightly at your nails.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just…” you press your hands carefully into your lap, “it got me thinking — this was… easy, wasn’t it?”

And he doesn’t have to ask what you’d meant by this. Because he knows. And with a jolt, he realizes that yes. This was easy. It was so easy, being with you, in this secluded place. So easy to laugh without worrying about the outside world, to forget, if only for a while.

Easy to kiss you, to hold you, to push away the thoughts of tomorrows and endings until — well.

“Yeah…” Todoroki breathes, “I guess… I guess it was.”

Silence blooms between you like a plume of smoke.

“But… I mean,” you say, waving your hands through the air to help your nails along, before slumping back into your pillows, “it was never going to be forever, right?”

And this time, Todoroki can’t quite tell if you’re talking about this or perhaps — he can’t help the tiny bead of hope coalescing in his chest — a future where your goodbye is the thing that doesn’t last forever.

“No,” he answers, allowing himself a small smile as he looks down at his own hands, “nothing really ever is.”

You giggle, rolling over to peer at him from your stomach, “You’re so serious.”

But by the time he lifts his head, you’d already crawled over to press your lips to his. It’s a sweet kiss, a simple kiss, and Todoroki feels his chest seize inside him, his arms going heavy with a liquid weight. When you pull away, he notices your eyes are fractured with tears. You wipe them away with a laugh.

“Look at me — I’m so silly.”

Todoroki shakes his head, reaching out to cup your cheeks gently between his hands, the way you’d taught him to with his own jagged emotions. And he feels it then, your sadness, your uncertainty, the stomach-twisting knowledge of endings.

“The beginning might’ve been easy but… this isn’t.”

You hiccup, going still as he holds you.

“So… I guess we were worth it after all, huh,” you say, looking down at the space between you.

Todoroki nods, leaning forward just enough to press his forehead to yours, nudging your nose with his for a second before bringing you in for yet another kiss. He pulls away and tastes salt on his lips.

“That’s how we know — because the ending is hard. That’s how we know it was worth it.”

When the next morning comes, you don’t cry when you wave them all off, though many of the girls are. You catch his gaze and hold it for just a second longer than you’d done with anyone else. Beside him on the bus, Aoyama makes a soft, knowing kind of noise.

“Ah… first love is always such sweet despair,” he says, twinkling in his usual way.

Todoroki clears his throat, leaning back in his seat, a strange stillness settling over him as he thinks about the days ahead.

“Yeah, I suppose it is,” Todoroki says, to Aoyama’s dramatic surprise. But he recovers quickly and begins a soliloquy about something or other that carries them all the way back into the city, and to their assigned dorms.

He never forgets you, though there are moments when he’d wonder if that summer had really happened. Years later, when the memories have all gone watercolor-pale, and the edges blurred with time, he’ll still find himself reaching into the part of his mind that feels like the soft, steady weight of your hand on the back of his neck to calm him down, the smooth of your skin as you’d pressed against him and held him close.

And then, the year that he turns 24, it happens — he’d been called out into a small town just outside Shizuoka, for some kind of event that Fuyumi swears would be good for his publicity (as if he needed any more). Even after all these years, it still unsettles him to travel alone to these places, and he subconsciously reaches for the feeling of your palm pressing to his skin.

“Shouto?”

He turns at the sound of his name, and though a part of him assumes it’s yet another adoring fan, the deepest, most honest part of him whispers that it isn’t — that he knows this voice.

“Oh… its you,” the words slip from him like pebbles into a thawing stream.

And there you are, standing feet from him, your arms full of groceries, a red and white muffler strung around your shoulders, looking every bit as brilliant as the you from his memories.

The smile that splits your face is beautiful as heartbreak.

“Well, someone very wise once did tell me that nothing lasts forever… not even goodbyes.”

Todoroki takes half a step closer to you, a smile spreading across his own lips as he reaches out to help you with your groceries, taking the bags into his arms. The movement as natural as coming home.

“Yes but… I was thinking about it the other day and —”

“Oh? Just the other day?” you tease, bumping him slightly with your elbow was you set off down the half-empty street. It’s almost sundown, and the days are getting shorter again. Your breath fogs up the air before you and Todoroki suddenly thinks that winter looks good on you.

Even better than summer had.

“Yeah, but I realized…” he says, casting his eyes up at the cloud-strewn sky, the colors fading fast, the thick velvet of night inching up across the world like a curtain being drawn.

He turns his eyes back towards you, only to find you watching him with an indulgent smile on your face.

Todoroki blushes, feeling suddenly bashful, like the teenage boy he was when you two first met.

“I realized,” he says again, determined to finish his thought this time, “that when we first met… we never really said hello.”

be part of my taglist!

[mellotunekitty]

Jason Todd x Gn!Reader - Sick Day

Summary: the day you’re supposed to work with Jason, you’re sick. After he hears this, he takes it upon himself to take care of you, going above and beyond what he really needs to.  

Contains: tooth rotting fluff, comfort, reader has a fever

----

You woke up with your head banging, your throat sore, and your nose clogged up. Great. You’re sick. Of course it had to be the same day you were going to meet up with Jason to talk about a closed case you both were thinking about reopening. Groaning in pain, you rolled over to grab your phone and called Jason. 

“Hello?” He picked up. “Jay, I don’t feel good. M’not coming over today,” you said, your words barely audible. But Jason knew you. He knew what you sounded like when you were sick. “I’ll be right there. Don’t move,” he said, hanging up. 

“Wha- Jason… Jason?” You realize he hung up and tossed your phone aside, groaning and laying back down in pain. Your muscles were sore and you just wanted to sleep without tossing and turning because your nose was clogged on one side, then the other, and back to the previous side. It didn’t take long before he broke into your apartment through your window. 

He slid the window up to let himself in, bringing a backpack in with him. “You got the floor all wet,” you whined, noticing how wet his boots were from the rain. He apologized softly and took his boots off, finding a towel to put under them. “Here, I brought you some stuff,” he said, uncharacteristically soft. He pulled out medicine and a box of tea. “Here, let me warm up some tea for you so you can take the medicine,” he said.

Jason returned, tea in hand. The medicine wasn't as bad as you thought. It did take some convincing on his part, but it worked eventually. He didn’t stop at tea and medicine, however. His backpack seemed to be the equivalent to Mary Poppins or Hermione Granger’s bag. Medicine, tea, thermometer, tissues, soups, and more. He had it all set just for you. 

In your sick state, you caught a fragment of him pulling out the thermometer to take your temperature. “Open… under the tongue, sweetheart, there ya go,” he whispered. “Ooh..” Jason hissed, “high fever. I’ll make you some soup. You need liquids and food.” 

“M’not hungry,” you managed to croak. He sighed softly, cupping your cheek. “I know, baby, but you gotta eat something,” he mumbled. “You won’t have to eat all of it. Just what you can.” So, you did. You ate as much soup as you could before blowing your nose like crazy, the medicine seemingly kicking in. 

You didn’t think he could take care of you more, but if there was one thing you knew about Jason, it was that he liked to outdo himself. So when you watched him grab your remote and put on your favorite shows to make you feel better, you weren’t so surprised. “Need anything else? Want anything?” He asked. “No,” you whispered. But you did.

You wanted cuddles. You wanted to be held and coddled. It always felt so nice when you were sick. Obviously, he saw right through you, it was Jason. “You’re lying,” he said gently, “what d’you need?” Your voice came out soft and rough, “...hold me?” 

His eyes softened and he looked down with a smile, nodding slightly. “Okay,” he whispered, walking over to your bed. He laid next to you and carefully scooped you up. Almost like he was treating you like glass. “Get some sleep, baby,” he whispered. “I’ll be here to take care of you when you wake up.” 

It was the happiest you’ve ever been while sick.

[makeyoumine69]

A little bit possessive

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x fem!Reader

CW: Smut, Daddy kink, pregnancy/breeding kink, unprotected vaginal sex, prone bone, power play, dirty talk, pet names, obsessive behavior, implied overstimulation.

A/N: Hello everyone, just wanted to drop this little drabble, seems like Daddy Kink is taking over me once again as I have been listening to too many of Lana's songs lately, especially THIS edit hits hard. Also, I want to thank everyone who still reads me, I'm struggling with several writing projects, but I hope such little drabbles can bring you some joy! Sending my love and hugs!💕

"Tell me," Bateman murmured, his voice low and commanding as he pushed just the tip inside you. "What exactly do you think you're going to do, hmm? Walk away? Find another man to play Daddy?" He thrust forward, filling you in one brutal motion, his fingers digging deeper into your flesh. "You're mine," Patrick growled through clenched teeth, his pace rough and relentless as he fucked you. "You're not going anywhere." He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as his hips jerked forward, his cock slamming into your soaking slit. "And this baby? It's mine too. You won't find anyone else who can give you what I can." Patrick's hand moved to your throat, his grip tight as he thrust harder, pushing your body into the mattress with each movement. "You'll thank me," he sneered, diving deeper, reveling in the intoxicating sensation of your warmth. "You'll beg me to stay."

"No!" You blurted out, grabbing his hand that was painfully squeezing your neck. "It… it's not true!"

"Go ahead," he snapped darkly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Tell me you don't need me. I dare you." Patrick's cock drove deep into you again, hard enough to make the headboard hit the wall. "Because the truth is… you can't fucking live without me." The man thrust harder, every move designed to make you understand exactly what he meant. "This is your life now, honey. With me. Only me." Bateman grinned, his breath hot against your skin. "And you're going to love every fucking second of it."

Sobbing, you tried to kick him off you and roll over, but Patrick was too strong, much stronger than you, there was not even a chance to fight him. "It hurts!" you squealed and closed your eyes, your legs already shaking. "I… I can't take it… anymore…"

Inflamed, Bateman pinned you to the mattress and then, in one swift motion, flipped you over so that you lay flat on your stomach. Whimpering and trembling, you struggled to crawl away from him, but the next thing you knew, Patrick was covering you from above, weighing you down and placing a pillow under your pubic bone before ramming into your sore, creamy cunt once more.

"Beg me to stop," the man taunted, thrusting harder, faster. "Beg me and maybe I'll think about it." His hand tightened around your shoulders as his other hand grabbed your ass, pulling you even closer as he pounded into you, ignoring your cries, your pleas for mercy.

"Enough…p-please!" You turned to look at him, but he just pushed your face into the pillow. "Mhmm…it's too deep!"

Bateman could feel his orgasm building, but he didn't stop, didn't slow down. He's not done yet. Not until you fully understood who owned you. Not until you were completely broken.

"You will never leave me," Patrick whispered, his voice raspy and full of conviction. "You belong to me now. And there's nothing you can do about it."

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[midnightorchids]

Dick sat at the dinning room table, his case files scattered and his dinner cold. The room was quiet and fairly dim, his only light source was from a small lamp in the kitchen. He eyed the clock on the stove and then leaned back against his chair. The hard metal felt cool against his bare skin and he ran his hands across his face, frustrated.

There was a sudden upsurge of crimes in Bludhaven, all different MO’s, however, Dick couldn’t help but shake the feeling that there was something else going on. There was a connection there, he just didn’t know what it was yet.

Dick pulled his hands away from his face and went back to the file that laid in front of him. He read to himself silently, highlighting and circling important details, trying to find the missing link between the crimes.

It seemed as if hours had passed by, his body ached and his fingers felt sore, but he carried on with his research, desperate and determined.

“Dick, you’re still awake,” your gentle voice suddenly spoke up, pulling him out his trance. He finished reading his sentence before he looked up at you.

He stared at your heavy-eyed and sluggish state, he smiled at the sight of your messy hair. You looked breathtakingly beautiful to him.

“Yeah, I’m almost done though,” he said, yawning. You walked over to the dinning table, the pads of your feet softly tapping against the wooden floors, and you sat down on the chair next to him. He reached his hand out, and with just one swift move, pulled the chair closer to him. It scratched against the floor and you gasped at the sudden movement.

“You were too far,” he whined, while grabbing your hand. He placed a quick peck against your knuckles and you smiled sheepishly at his affection.

Dick was always physically affectionate. He needed to have his hands on you at all times, the small of your back, your waist, your shoulders, he just needed to hold you. You often thought it was his way of grounding himself, especially when he was overwhelmed or overly excited.

You pushed yourself closer to him and gently rested your head on his shoulder. You eyed the mess on the table and that’s when you noticed the neglected plate of food. Your heart dropped.

“Oh my god, you didn’t eat,” you exclaimed, moving your head away from him. You were quick to get up, ready to reheat the meal for him, but he grabbed your wrist before you could leave.

“Sit,” he said and you did.

“But-”

“It’s okay, I’m not hungry,” the worried look in your eyes pulled at his heart strings, and he spoke up again, “I’ll have a big breakfast in the morning.”

“Promise,” you asked, holding out your pinky. You wanted to ask him to eat right then and there, but you knew it was no use. He was stubborn and worked up over the case files, food was the last thing on his mind.

“Promise,” Dick said, connecting his own pinky with yours, he placed a quick kiss against your lips to seal the deal.

“Will you come to bed soon,” you asked and he nodded in response. “Okay, I’ll wait until you’re ready then.” Dick smiled with his heart full and his eyes heavy.

Dick was loved by many, adored even, but no one made him feel the way that you did. No one cared for him like you did.

“Alright, let’s go to sleep now,” he said abruptly, closing his pen with its cap. He stared at the mess of papers on the table and decided that it was a problem for the morning.

“But I thought you had more work to do” you questioned. He didn’t answer and instead lifted you in his arms, the action caught you off gaurd. It was always likes this with him, he was unpredictable, but comforting. You knew you were always safe with him.

You placed your arms around his shoulders and he held you bridal style up the stairs. You laughed at his antics while ruffling his messy brunette locks. He grinned and repeatedly kissed your cheek, enticing more giggles from you.

“Let’s get my baby back to bed,” he said softly before kissing your cheek one last time. Dick opened the bedroom door with his foot and placed you gently against the pale blue sheets.

He walked over to his side of the bed and stretched before laying down next to you. Once he got comfortable, you moved closer and placed your head on his bare chest. Your fingers instinctively wrapped themselves on to the small locket around his neck. He wore your initials. That too, with pride.

You traced the charm with your index finger and Dick let out a deep, exasperated sigh. He ran his hands through your hair. His fingers grazed your scalp and you hummed delightfully.

The moment was intimate and calming. It made your body feel limp with an overwhelming amount of comfort and it slowly lulled you to sleep.

Once Dick felt your soft, rhythmic breathing, he kissed your forehead before muttering a small “goodnight, doll,” and then, he finally let himself get the well needed rest.

[adokyoguen]

hi! I have a req idea - Gojo tearing up when yn kisses his forehead as he’s never felt so vulnerable 🫠

take care :)

Basically, for me, satoru wouldn't cry in front of Y/N because he wants to continue being the strongest for her.

BUUT, that wouldn't stop him from crying over her in hiding 😏

Here it is, I made it short but if you want a continuation please feel free!

Please forgive any mistakes and correct me! I needed the translator's help several times. :((

Your eyes slowly opened so that you could adjust to the brightness of the room. You felt sore, several parts of your body including your abdomen and forehead were bandaged.

But... what really happened?

Oh, right, you and the second-year students had just fought Suguru, everyone was completely destroyed, and that included you. Sure, Gojo arrived late, but he was able to end Suguru's life. When he found you, you were lying on the floor, completely injured, as were Panda, Inumaki and Maki.

Taking you all to the infirmary was a difficult job, even more so when you were so fragile that Satoru thought he would break you if he held you wrong.

You were one of the first to receive treatment from Shoko, your bleeding was internal, but thank God you were fine.

When you had stabilized and woken up, you looked to the side, finding flowers and a letter written on the dresser;

"If you're reading this, you probably woke up without me. I'm currently solving the problems with Sukuna's vessel, so I'll be back soon to see you.

Take care :)

Note: I left a chocolate hidden for you inside your pillow.

Satoru Gojo. ♡"

You smiled as you read the letter and decided to sleep a little longer to recover until he came back.

23:43 PM

When it was night, you woke up with the infirmary door opening and footsteps walking to your stretcher. And there he was, with that arrogant smile as always.

— Oh princess, are you finally awake? — He says, sitting on the chair next to your bed.

— If my eyes are open, I probably woke up. — Tsk... so ignorant... — Satoru laughs, twirling a strand of your hair with his finger. — So... how do you feel?

— Huh... well? I can't say, my body hurts but at the same time I feel quite energetic. — You say and he smiles.

— Well, it's to be expected, you were unconscious for 4 days.

— Wait... What?

— Yes, Shoko said you lost a lot of blood, you had several internal hemorrhages. You swallowed hard.

— And Suguru...? — You didn't want to ask that. Not when he was the one who hurt you so much. But gosh... you cared so much about him... you didn't have the courage to kill him and he took advantage of that.

— I killed him. — He says, without any joking tone in his voice. Had his efforts been in vain? You were so distracted by your thoughts that you barely noticed Satoru's voice stuck in his throat, but either way, he didn't want you to notice that.

— I... I'm sorry Toru...

— Nah, it's okay. — He says smiling, you knew he wasn't completely okay. Suguru was the only best friend Gojo had in his entire life, and now, he had been killed by himself, but of course, it was Satoru Gojo, he was always "fine". — I'll let you rest a little, I need to go after Director Yaga.

— Okay... — You answer as you watch him get up.

— See you later, princess.

— Wait!— You shout, grabbing the man's wrist and pulling him closer. With a quick movement, you place a long kiss on his forehead and whisper. — You're the strongest Satoru, but you're still human, remember that for me, okay?

Satoru was surprised, but with his bandage over his eyes, you could barely notice. He smiled, nodding.

— Good night, princess. — He places a loving kiss on your forehead, as a way of thanking you and leaves the infirmary.

You didn't know, but when he left the infirmary, he removed his blindfold to wipe the tears he shed.

Maybe today you won't see him cry, but who knows one day?

[iluvapplesxh]

Hi can you do a billie x fem!reader pleasee where reader is like overworking themselves and not taking care of themselves, like not sleeping or eating enough, and they basically take it too far and idk where to go after that but yeahh and it ends with billie's comfort if that makes sense 😭😭

⧽⧽Blurry⧼⧼

❀ pair: billie eilish x fem!reader

✰ summary: God, it was so hard. Everything was, but you couldn't just stop. You never did, not when it felt like you were slowly being separated from what was supposed to be reality. All you needed was something to hold you and pull you back to it, but in your case, it was someone.

✯ warnings: mentions of anxiety, stress, mentions of hallucinations, fluff, !ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE!

✒ a/n: I misspelled my own name on my header image ☹️

The words on the paper pages in front of you blurred together and the pen grasped between your fingers shook the slightest bit. Your eyes burned from the constant light of your laptop and the shitty table lamp on the corner of your desk. Your heart was beating faster than it should be - probably from the amount of caffeine you’ve consumed- and you dropped the pen with an exhausted sigh. Your hands came up to cover your face while your fingers pressed into your sore eyes, hoping to soothe the pain but being unsuccessful. 

With a deep breath, one hand dropped onto the papers with a harsh thud while the other ran through your hair before joining the other on the desktop. You felt tears prick your eyes from sheer exhaustion and your teeth dug onto your lower lip to keep them in, taking a few more deep breaths in through your nose before you picked up the pen again and looked down at the papers.

All you wanted to do was get out of this damn room and run to your bedroom -okay, maybe not run- and cuddle into your girlfriend’s arms until you sleep all the stress and worries away. Her voice in your ear whispering comforting words and her kisses littering your skin lulling you into a deep sleep.

But that was not possible, the fucking deadline for this shit was creeping up on you at a fast pace and the closer it got the more stressed you were.

Your hand moved the ballpen against the paper swiftly, not even your brain could comprehend what you were writing down. It was almost like you were on auto pilot. Your head spun a little and your knee bounced up and down, probably from the caffeine rush and stress. Your chest felt tighter with each breath taken and your breathing felt restrained, more and more by the minute.

The white page was beginning to grow spotty, or maybe it was your eyes. You didn’t know, you couldn’t tell. Your movements stilled and your face scrunched up, eyes screwed shut. Your hands clenched and unclenched before one of them reached for the mug of coffee you made earlier, only when you did the only thing you grabbed was air and your eyes flew open in confusion. They darted around the table, searching for the mug of coffee you made.

But did you ever?

You blinked rapidly, turning in your chair to look around the dark room, only illuminated by the light of the laptop and table lamp. There was no coffee. There never was.

Your shoulders dropped and you turned ahead again, leaning back with a huff and furrowed eyebrows.

What?

Your eyelids were low from tiredness and soon the heels of your palms pressed into your eyes, swallowing harshly. Your hands dropped to your lap again and slow breaths left your lips.

It was like reality was slipping away from you. You didn't know what was real or not. And it made you scared and confused.

What’s wrong with me?

Your head shook from side to side and your heart beat in your throat, suddenly your ears were ringing harshly, and your head was pounding mercilessly. Your tongue darted out to lick your dried, chapped up lips.

You didn’t hear the door open, or close. Well, maybe you did, and you didn’t know whether it was real or not. You didn’t jump when arms slowly draped down your shoulders and wrapped around your neck loosely, your eyes just bore into your paper covered desk in front of you. 

“Baby” 

Billie’s head dropped onto your shoulder, her voice raspy and silky as she spoke. You slowly let out a small hum in response, not entirely acknowledging her presence just yet. One of her hands squeezed your shoulder gently.

“It’s late. You’ve been in here for the whole day” She murmured softly and tenderly, signing into your shoulder. It seemed that she was also tired.

Your eyes finally lifted from the papers up to the wall, landing on the clock. 3:12AM. Your brows furrowed before your own sigh left your body and you nodded. 

“Come on, let’s get to bed, hm?” Billie lifts her head from your shoulder, arms unwrapping from around your neck and her hands rested on your shoulders, massaging gently.

You exhaled and shook your head, slightly relaxing under her touch. “I can’t” Your voice came out hoarse and you cleared your throat before continuing. “I need to finish this.” You mumbled, one hand picking up the pen again and the other blindly reaching for the bottle of pills you keep on your desk.

You heard Billie scoff behind you and soon heard the rattle of pills as she picked it up before you, throwing it on the couch in the room. “Fuck that, you’re exhausted” 

You huffed and your front teeth sunk into your bottom lip. “I’m fine, and I’m almost done anyway” You swallowed hard.

“Bullshit,” Billie muttered then grabbed the backrest of your chair and turned you around to face her. Though your eyes were spacey and distant and blinking so slowly, she was suddenly more worried. A soft breath came from her nose before she leaned down eye level with you and took your face in her hands. “Please, sweetheart. For me.” 

You felt her thumbs stroke the bags under your eyes, so tender and affectionate it made you want to sob into her arms. Her blue eyes, filled with worry, met yours and your lip trembled before you pulled it into a pout, nodding.

Billie breathed a sigh of relief, and a small smile formed on her lips. “Good” She whispered and leaned in, pressing her soft lips onto your forehead for a long moment before she pulled away and stood up, holding out her hands. You slowly took them, and she helped you up, feeling her arm wrap around you to steady you as she walked you out of the room.

You walked down the corridor in silence until you reached the door of your shared bedroom, and she opened it with one hand. In a couple moments you were sitting on the bed as Billie walked over with one of her hoodies.

“Can you undress, love?”  She spoke softly, standing in front of you. You nodded subtly and took in a deep breath. Then you ploddingly took off your t-shirt, handing it to Billie. Then you stood briefly, pulling down your pants before slumping down again and taking them off all the way. And although the bedroom air was a comfortable warmth, your skin still filled with goosebumps when it hit it. Billie hands you the hoodie and you took it quickly, pulling it over your head and sighing softly when her scent engulfed your body completely, making your mind clearer and more relaxed.

Billie placed down your used clothes before rounding the bed and climbing onto the bed. “Lie down, darling.” She murmured softly; hand wrapped around your lower arm to pull a little. You nodded and lifted the blanket, sliding under it with a deep breath. 

Billie turned off her bedside lamp before shifting closer to you. You felt her arms wrap around your torso before you were pulled into her body. You slowly turned around in her arms, yours circling her body and your head rested on her chest. One of her hands rubbed your back comfortingly while the other ran through your hair. She leaned down and placed a kiss onto your hairline before resting back against the pillows.

“Sleep now, okay?” Billie whispered and there was a hint of worry still in her voice but mostly just love. “I’m not going anywhere” Her words made your whole body relax against hers while your eyes closed, breathing evening out. 

You knew she would scold you later that day on how you shouldn’t work so much and how you should take proper care of yourself, making it a whole lecture even though it most likely will happen again.

But that didn't matter in this moment because her touch and hold made you feel safe, and the exhaustion lifted from your shoulders. She was your safe place, a pair of arms to hold you when you did stupid things like this. A pair of lips to kiss away the racing thoughts in your head and the warmth of a body making you forget all about work and stress. It was just you and her, forever, ever and you made the perfect pair.

✒ a/n: I hate this, I hate myself, but I wrote it, and I might as well post it! also I kinda imagine Billie the way the pictures show so, blonde Billie?

REQUESTS OPEN

[holylulusworld]

Vulnerable (4)

Summary: Professor Xavier entrusts you with the mission to locate a certain mutant with unknown consequences.

Pairing: Alpha!Wolverine x Omega!(Mutant)Reader

Characters: Jean Grey, Scott Summers

Warnings: angst, language, gruff Wolverine, a/b/o, a/b/o dynamics, implied true mates, you are on the run, mentions of the death of a loved one (sister), a lil Jean/Scott hate in this, foreshadowing

A/N: Jean is not Dark Phoenix in this story. The reader is stronger than both Professor Xavier and Jean Grey. She is a telepath, telekinetic, and empath. Most of the time, she suppresses her powers.

Catch up here: Inseparable

Undefeated masterlist

“Never!” Logan growls while speeding off, “Get inside my head ever again! If you do, I’ll split your skull with my claws.”

You laugh, because Logan wouldn’t get the chance to get close to you, and reply, “Believe me, buddy. Getting inside your messed-up mind is the last thing I want to do. Now drive more carefully. There’s no one following us. At least, for now. I try to make us invisible.”

“You can turn things invisible too?” He cocks a brow but focuses on the street. “What the fuck are you?”

“Aw, you’re cute when clueless.” You pat his thigh and squeeze it tightly. “I cannot turn things invisible. I’ll cover our traces using my powers. If anyone tries to find us, I’ll manipulate their minds. Now stop distracting me and drive.”

“You should sleep or do whatever you do after you split into two,” he huffs and slams his hands onto the steering wheel. “That was suicidal, kid!”

“I’m not a kid,” you growl. “Do I look like a kid to you?” You narrow your eyes at Logan. "Maybe everyone under one hundred is a kid to you, but stop acting like you are the adult in this team!”

“We’re not a team, k—” he grits his teeth. “After I dropped you at Xavier’s freak house, I’m out of this shitshow for good. I told Charles that I’m not the kind of man for teamwork or his X-Men.”

“Yeah, I can relate,” you prop your feet onto the dashboard, earning a growl from Logan. “Relax, old man.” You smirk when he glances at you for a second. He squares his jaw, and his muscles are tense. “What? You can call me kid, but I cannot call you old man.”

“Someone should teach you some manners!” Logan grits out. “Maybe I’m that one.”

You lean close and place your hand on his arm. “Please don’t hurt yourself, old man. I don’t want to fix your back because you got hurt.”

“You know about my healing factor, right?” He bites back. “I don’t need your help to feel better.”

“Aw, but sweetie,” you move your hand up and down his arm, causing him to shiver. “I swear, if I ever helped you feel better, you’d believe you ended up in heaven.”

You pull away, smirking because it seems you got under the old grump’s skin.

“One day, someone will break your neck,” he replies, his voice a little raspier than before. “And I won’t stop them.”

Snorting, you turn to the right side to get some sleep. You wave your hand, and a green aura surrounds your body. “I’ll sleep now. Only wake me if the car is on fire or we reached our destiny.”

“What if you are on fire?” He grins, and you chuckle.

“Just let me burn, old man,” you yawn. “I’ve got this. I’m fire- and bulletproof.”

Logan furrows his brows, wondering if you try to mess with him again. He must admit, your powers are impressive and downright scary.

“Wake up!” Logan gruffly calls your name. He pokes your thigh. “You’re lucky that you’re not on fire; neither is the car.”

You slowly sit up, stretching your sore limbs before you open the door to leave the car. Hours spent in the same position gave you more kinks in your back than you’d like to admit.

“Good, you didn’t crash the car,” you grumble under your breath. “You don’t need a babysitter all the time. That’s progress.”

Logan glares at you for a second but doesn’t say a thing. Being here, back at the X-Men headquarters and Xavier’s school of gifted youngsters, brings back memories he’d like to forget about.

“Can you not talk for like five minutes?” he huffs and gets out of the car. Logan slams the door shut, muttering under his breath. “Why did you have to bring me here? I was done with this life.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” you huff. “And if you didn’t scream grumpy grandpa for crying out loud, I’d consider letting you go, but…” You smirk as he stalks toward you. “I can’t let a senior walk around the area on his own. You could get lost.”

“One day someone will teach you a lesson,” he snarls and slides his claws out. “I’ll be that one.” Logan grins as you take another step toward you. “This old man will teach you some manners too.”

You chuckle at his playful tone. It’s a distraction from his racing heart and the fear you can sense coming deep from within his soul. Being here is hard for him. You know that feeling.

“I see, you found him,” the gate creaks open behind you. Scott and Jean walk toward the car, and you already feel nauseous. Jean tries to see into your mind; a habit you never liked. She always wanted to control you since you first joined the X-Men. One of the reasons you left the team is to not feel like a guinea pig any longer.

“I always find them,” you reply, trying not to sound too annoyed. “If not, the professor wouldn’t have asked for my help. Here’s your lost sheep and the one you call Stryker.” You jerk your head toward the car. “He’s out cold. Tell me when you are ready to interrogate him. I’ll wake the sleeping beauty for you.”

“What did you do to him?” Jean is more concerned about you hurting a human than the fact that Stryker and his soldiers would’ve enslaved you and Logan.

“Oh, that wasn’t her,” Logan chuckles as Scott steps closer to him. “It was her cute alter ego. You know, the red aura crap running off to get a pound of flesh of the bastard in the back of my truck.”

“You hurt them,” Scott furrows his brows. He always was a softie and never knew when you have to end someone who’s evil through and through.”

"Well, it was a us or them kind of situation,” you shrug. “They were well-trained killers. What did you think will happen?” You glare at Scott. “I sent the first group home because they were newbies and didn’t kill innocent mutants for their fun. The others…” You dip your head to smirk at Scott, "They didn’t get so lucky. I sense evilness when I face it.”

“You used her again,” Jean chides while checking on Stryker’s vital functions. “I told you to never use her again!”

“She has a name!” Your aura turns from green to violet. “I told you not to treat her like an enemy, or even worse, a weapon you can use to your liking, but if I use my powers, then I’m the bad guy.”

“She?” Logan wonders aloud. He watches you take deep breaths, like in the bar, or before you unleashed your alter ego. This time your aura turns green, and it vanishes. “Did I miss something?”

“I told you, she’s my alter ego,” you turn around to face Logan. Your features soften feeling his confusion and the need to get away from Scott and Jean. “She’s…” You drop your gaze and sigh deeply.

“I came with you and even let you comb through my brain. You owe me an answer, Y/N!” Logan insists.

“Okay,” you nod, and place your hand on his chest. You look him in the eye, a kind of sadness in your eyes tearing through his very soul. “Professor Xavier brought me here when I was just a kid. After men like Stryker experimented on me and my…” You choke out a sob, “Twin sister.”

“Oh…” He can’t come up with an appropriate reaction, so he offers a cracked smile.

“We were both special; at least they told us so. Most of the time, we talked using telepathy or exchanged the food they gave us using our telekinesis. One day, they brought us into a room. ” You wipe your eyes. “There was another mutant, a very strong one. It was the most powerful being I ever encountered. They told us to fight him; and we did, but…”

“Shouldn’t we head inside?” Scott tries to stop you from telling your story to a man he never trusted. “Y/N?”

You ignore Scott and the fact that Jean tries once again to get a glimpse of your thoughts. You just look at Logan when a single tear rolls down your cheek. “He threw a shockwave in my direction. I was too stunned to react, and she…she just jumped in front of me, grabbing my hand and smiling as the shockwave tore her apart. Right in front of my eyes, my twin sister turned into dust.”

“I—I’m so sorry,” Logan finally gets out as your aura turns gray.

“It wasn’t her end,” you murmur. “Not completely. A part of her,” you smile now, and wave your hand to let the aura float around Logan. “I call it her soul; she stayed with me. Since that day, our powers have fused, and she’s there to protect me whenever I need her.”

“The aura is your sister?” He asks.

“A part of her is inside the aura I can create,” you murmur. “I can feel her, just like I felt her fuse with me that day.”

“That’s the most tragic story I ever heard, and I heard a lot of tragic stories,” Logan cracks a smile, making you chuckle. “Trust me, you win the award for the saddest story ever.”

You’re thankful for his reaction. He doesn’t try to tell you how sorry he is and that everything will turn out well. Logan is just…Logan. You are about to give him a witty comment when you sense an incredible power getting closer.

Your aura turns red immediately. You look at Jean, telling her to get Stryker and Scott inside. That power, you know it…

“He’s here. He’s coming for us. I didn’t feel him before, but I do now.” You use your telekinesis to send Logan flying. He lands behind the fence, the one you close and lock with your powers. “Get him inside. Protect him at all costs.”

You turn around, waving your hands, letting the aura dance in the air.

“Y/N…no!” Jean gasps when she watches your aura turn from red to black, your ultimate form. “Noooo! You’re going to kill us all!” She screams when you tell them to run inside the mansion. "You can't control this!"

“No, only he will die today.” Your voice doesn’t sound like your own any longer.

A part of your aura surrounds your body, but the rest turns into ten versions of yourself. You stand in line, nodding at each other.

The day has finally come. You’ll get your revenge on Stryker and the monster killing your sister.

Tags in reblog.

[natashaslesbian]

Another Mother | Part 3

Scarlett helps you out when you start to get sick, she hopes you’re getting closer until your dad tells you he’s needed back at work. All you truly want is your mother, not Scarlett

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings/Content: Sickness, Throwing up, Medication, One hint of non sexual nudity, One swear word

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You followed slowly behind your dad into the living room, finding Scarlett already settled on the couch with a bowl of popcorn. “Hey you two” Scarlett smiled, a little too friendly for your liking, despite your earlier bonding time. “Did you apologise?” The blonde asked Colin “yeah” your dad nodded. “Good, now let’s watch a film, what’s your pick y/n?” Scarlett said as she adjusted her position on the couch, hoping you would join her. She was slightly disappointed when you took a seat on the spare armchair beside the expensive looking couch, wiping at your suddenly stuffy nose “terminator 2” you said as you slumped down. “Oh one of my favs, nice pick” Scarlett said as Colin came and sat beside her. Your dad sighed as he got comfortable “guess I gotta get used to being outnumbered again” Colin smiled as he wrapped his arm around the blondes shoulders “looks like you girls are already ganging up on me” he joked. “We make a good team y/n” Scarlett smiled at you “we’re not a team” you coldly replied “just two people living under the same roof who happen to get on occasionally” you said with a croaky voice. You didn’t see it, but Scarlett smiled at your words. Even if it was only occasionally, she was happy to be getting on with you, it was a start.

Your eyes grew tired towards the end of the film, a small headache forming behind your eyes. The exhaustion due to your restless night soon lulled you into a comfortable doze. “I think someone’s ready for bed” Scarlett whispered when she saw your head slowly bobbing to the side. “Y/n, wakey wakey!” Your dad called, using that annoying voice which he thought was hilarious. Your brows furrowed as you shuffled slightly “Colin!” Scarlett groaned. “Sorry kiddo” he laughed “you tired? Why don’t you go take a nap before dinner?” He said. You sighed loudly as you sat up, rubbing at your sore eyes “no I’m good” you said. “You sure?” Colin asked worriedly, to which you nodded in response. “You do look a little pale y/n” Scarlett piped up. “God I’m fine! What do you care anyway?” You snapped as you stood from the chair, leaving heavy footsteps in the path of your exit. “Hey! What did I tell you about the attitude!” Your dad called after you. “Leave it honey, she doesn’t seem well” the blonde said, running her hand along Colin’s arm in what she hoped was a soothing manor. “She’s fine” he huffed.

You made it halfway up the stairs before a rough cough escaped your lungs, as if being home sick wasn’t enough, now you were getting actually sick. You finally made it to your bedroom, where you flopped down dramatically onto your bed. Being too tired to change, you rolled over into your stomach letting your heavy head hit the pillow. You slept through dinner, Colin left you to sleep when he came to check on you. You slept so deeply, it was morning the next time you opened your eyes. You whined as the morning sun hit your gaze, making your pounding headache ten times worse. You were slightly dazed, but still knew it was Monday, meaning you needed to get ready for school. You peeled back your duvet and began shivering despite the sweat running down your head. You somehow made it to the door quickly, ignoring the ache of your muscles in each step. When making your way to the bathroom, the haze behind your eyes caught up with you, sending you toppling down to your knees. The crash against the wall had your dad awake in seconds “y/n?” He said as he swung open his bedroom door.

You saw a hint of worry come over your dad as he ran towards you “are you alright kid?” He said as he began to help you up “god you’re boiling” he exclaimed, deciding it would be better to keep you sitting. An inquisitive blonde appeared in the doorway, also awoken by the noise “is everything alright?” She said. “You were right, I think she’s sick” Colin frowned as he held you in his arms. “M fine” you whined “gotta school go” you slurred. “No sweetie I don’t think you’re going to school today” your dad said “I…um…I’ll call them okay, and we’ll…we’ll get you feeling better in no time” he stuttered, slightly unsure of what to do “let’s get you back to bed” he said. “I think she needs a shower first” Scarlett said, still standing in the doorway. “What?” Colin said, looking up at her. The older woman came to rest the back of her hand on your forehead, you shuffled away when she came into contact with you, pulling a face of disgust. “She’s too warm, she needs a cold shower” the woman said. Colin’s face fell into shock “right…well uh” he mumbled. “I’ll do it” Scarlett said “if that’s okay with you” she asked as she placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, thrilled when you didn’t shrug her off. Your dad smiled at the offer from his fiancé “you go call her school” she smiled back “I don’t know the number” Colin said in defeat. “I’ll find it later” Scarlett said as she rolled her eyes.

You felt a pair of arms scooping you underneath your arms, gently lifting you away from the floor “ok sweetie, come on let’s get you in the shower” Scarlett said as she took on all of your weight. Being too dizzy to notice, you allowed yourself to be helped into the bathroom and deposited into the toilet lid. The running water caught your attention and you furiously rubbed at your eyes trying to regain your vision. “Hey try not to do that okay, you’ll make them sore” Scarlett said as she reached for your hands. “Leave me lone” you said as you saw a flash of blonde hair “don wan you” you grumbled. Scarlett was getting used to your standoffish attitude, so she didn’t take your words to heart. “I know you don’t y/n but you need a shower and I don’t think you can do it yourself right now” she said as she checked the temperature of the water. Satisfied that it was cool enough, Scarlett began peeling away the shirt stuck to your skin “we’ll keep your underwear on okay but I need to take your shorts off too” she said soothingly. Despite your best ideas, you allowed the blonde to help you stand and step out of your shorts as they pooled at your ankles. “‘S cold” you groaned as you stepped underneath the water. “I know sweetheart but we gotta cool you down” Scarlett said as she helped you to sit in the tub.

You whined as more of your skin came into contact with the cold water, Scarlett gently shushed you as she helped you to settle against the tiles. You didn’t put up much of a fight once your body was supported by the tiles and Scarlett took the opportunity to search for your schools phone number. Once she found it, the actress poked her head out of the bathroom door and called for her fiancé. “I got the schools number” she said as Colin climbed the last few steps. “Thank you baby, is she okay?” he asked as he typed the number into his own phone. “She’s only just got in but it should cool her down a bit. I’m guessing Marie used to take care of this kinda stuff?” Scarlett questioned. Colin smiled at the mention of his late wife “yeah she did” he said, reliving all the times you would be napping with your mother when you had a cold. “Why don’t you go make her some breakfast, she needs to eat before we give her some medicine” Scarlett said as she held Colin’s hand lovingly “okay yeah” your dad sighed as he ran back down the staircase, still in his panicked state at your sudden sickness.

Scarlett returned to the side of the bath and leant over to gauge your temperature, she was delighted when you felt much cooler than before. “Okay let’s get you out sweetie” she said as she reached for a fluffy towel. “No tired” you mumbled through the droplets of the water “thought you said it was too cold?” Scarlett smirked as she helped you to stand up again. “Don wan your help if you jus gon make fun of me” you argued, your anger a stark juxtaposition to the grip you had on her arms. “Sorry baby” Scarlett said, the nickname sliding off her tongue so naturally. You grimaced in annoyance at her affection but allowed her to help you back to your bedroom nonetheless. “Sit tight okay, I’ll grab you some fresh clothes” the blonde said as she sat you on your bed “I feel sick” you groaned as you wrapped your arms around your bubbling stomach. Scarlett took notice of your movements and hurried across the room to place your bin underneath your chin. On cue, the small contents of your stomach came out, it was mostly acid considering you hadn’t eaten in almost 15 hours. “Alright sweetie, it’s okay, let it all out” Scarlett cooed as she ran her hands along your back. You pulled back when you were done, avoiding the bin as you moved your head forwards to rest on the blondes frame. She placed the metal can back on the floor and gently soothed the skin of your arms. “I…I need to get dressed” you stuttered as you slowly pushed Scarlett away, feeling guilty for relying on her so heavily. “Do you want some help” Scarlett asked. “No, I can do it” you said as you pushed yourself to your feet and turned your back to the older woman, ending the conversation.

Scarlett waited just outside your door while you pulled your clothes back onto your cooler body. Colin came rising back up the stairs with a tray of fever friendly food. “Hey, she’s just getting dressed” the blonde said as she leaned over the tray to give her fiancé a kiss. “Okay hunny, thanks for looking after her” Colin said “I made her soup and a few slices of toast” he sighed as he held out the tray, wishing you could get better quickly, he hated to see you like this. “That should settle her stomach a bit, she threw up” Scarlett frowned, also hating to see you like this. “Oh god okay, I’ll see if I can get the rest of the week off work, I’m due back tomorrow” Colin said. He placed the tray on the hallway table and pulled out his phone to call his boss when a small whimper came from your bedroom. “Scarlett?” You called out “yeah sweetheart” the blonde replied leaning gently against the door. “I think I need some help getting dressed” you muttered “okay I’m coming in” Scarlett said as she picked up the tray of food for you “I got her” she nodded to your father. Scarlett couldn’t help the pitying whine that escaped her when she came back into your room. You were half sitting on the bed and half sitting on the floor, you’d managed to dress your lower half but when trying to put a loose sports bra over your head, you failed tremendously. The older woman kept her eyes above your shoulders as she helped to pull the bra over your chest, when you were covered she grabbed the large shirt she had laid out and helped you to slip into it. “Thank you” you whispered, “don’t mention it sweetie.

You climbed back into bed as Scarlett carried over the food your dad had prepared “‘M not hungry” you whined as she set it down on your lap. “You need to eat y/n, you’ll feel better I promise. And after your done we’ll get some medicine in you then you can sleep okay” Scarlett said, unconsciously leaning forward to brush away a loose strand of your hair. You continued to moan in disagreement but soon you had finished the whole meal, you felt a little bitter though you were definitely not going to tell Scarlett she was right. Your dad stopped by as you were finishing up, arms full of medication as he wasn’t sure which ones you needed. You and Scarlett both chuckled as his frantic state “give it here” she blonde rolled her eyes and reached for the basket. “How are you feeling pumpkin?” Colin asked as he rested a hand on your forehead “sleepy” you whispered “we’ll get you tucked in soon I promise” he cooed. Scarlett found what medicine you needed and helped you to swallow it, despite your unwillingness. She stood back as her fiancé helped to soothe you to sleep “get some sleep” Colin said as he switched off your overhead light, leaving you to rest. “I can’t get the week off” your dad sighed as he closed you bedroom door “they’re behind on scripts for the sketches I gotta go in” he sighed. “She’ll understand baby” Scarlett said as held Colin’s hand tightly “and I’ll be here to look after her” she said. “I know it’s just, her mom used to watch her when she was sick, or on school holidays, practically all the time cause I was at work. I thought I would finally have a chance to be there for her” Colin frowned. “She knows that you love her CJ, and she knows that you’re always gonna be there for her, wherever you are” the blonde said as she brushed his cheeks in her hands. “Come on, I think we have time for our own breakfast while she sleeps” Scarlett smiled as she lead her fiancé back down to the living room.

The pair kept a close eye on you for the rest of the day, although you slept for most of it. Despite your sickness, Scarlett and Colin used this time to spend together, basking in each other’s comfort. You were awake now and enjoying a sit com in the silence of your room. The medicine was beginning to ware off and you felt the same bubbling in your stomach return from earlier. Colin shot up from his desk when he heard the retching coming from upstairs, he jumped into action as he ran up to you followed by Scarlett. The door swung open to reveal you with your head over the bin once again “oh pumpkin” your dad cooed. “Daddy” you whined as she came to your side. The blonde also appeared behind you, pulling your hair into a loose ponytail to avoid it getting in the way. Colin nodded in thanks to his partner as he gently stroked your back “it’s alright kiddo” he soothed. When you were done, you leaned back against your dad in defeat. He didn’t waste a second as he scooped you up into his arm, bringing you back to your bed. You saw the look in his eyes, the one that meant he had something to tell you “you have to go to work tomorrow don’t you?” You quietly asked. “Yeah baby, I’m so sorry there’s nothing I can do” Colin said as he reached around your shoulders to hold you against himself. “Scarlett will be here though, she can look after you okay?” He said. You drew your gaze to the blonde standing at the foot of your bed. You wished your dad could be with you, the comfort of your mother was absent and now so would your father’s, Scarlett was the last person you wanted around right now. “Okay” you sighed in defeat. You supposed it could’ve been worse, and Scarlett had helped you out today. Whether or not you wanted to admit it.

You soon fell back asleep in your fathers arms, feeling comforted by his presence. You didn’t join him and Scarlett for dinner, your stomach not being able to hold anything. Nightfall soon came and you resorted to having a movie marathon having slept so much already. You were feeling worse than ever as you couldn’t take any of the medication on an empty stomach, but you just couldn’t keep anything down, your tummy was constantly aching. It was around three am when you couldn’t hold back from stumbling over to the bin again. You had no concept of time and the world was going around in a blur. “Y/n?” You heard as you gently turned your head to the footsteps closing in. “Oh pumpkin” Colin sighed as he came to your side. “Dad” you whined as you leaned into him “what time is it?” You asked. “About 3” your father said. You glanced towards your window, seeing no light leaking through “am?” You said feeling guilty for waking him. “Go back to sleep daddy, you have work today” you said as you toyed with his necklace. “It’s okay baby don’t worry about me” Colin said as he too your face into his hands. “You’re gonna be tired” you frowned, your vision blurring slightly. “No, no sweetie it’s okay” your dad said as he helped you to stand.

“Come on let’s get you back to bed” Colin said as he supported your weight on the short walk back to your mattress. “I wanna go home” you said as water crept up behind your eyes. “You are home kiddo” your dad sighed as he began to tuck you back into bed. “I’ll never be home again, not without mom” you cried, thinking about your moms soft hands gently flowing through your long hair. “Pumpkin, you gotta let her go” Colin whispered. “What like you did” you snapped, sitting up with a sudden burst of energy. “You just let her go, moved on and forgot about her. You sold her house, drove in some new bimbo to replace her and just let her go!” You shouted, tears now streaming down your face. “Y/n” your dad sighed “it’s not heathy to keep holding on, she would want you to-“ he continued before you cut him off “don’t you dare say she’d want me to move on” you sobbed. Colin sat back in defeat as you flipped back down into bed, turning your back to him and pulling your stuffed bear close to your face. “Y/n” he whispered “just go dad. You’ve got work in a few hours. I’m not gonna be the reason you get fired for falling asleep at your desk” you muttered under your breath, shaking due to your small outburst and probably your once again rising temperature. “Scarlett’s here if you need anything” Colin said coldly as he headed off back to bed for a few extra hours. “Like fuck” you cursed.

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A/N: Series Masterlist here<3

- Astara Bell

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[Taglist]

@saraaahsstuff / @dannipotatoo / @tobiaslut / @nevaeh-daughterofvalcarol / @marvelnatasha12346 / @yelenasdiary / @mousetheorist / @ashadash0904 / @strange-night-owl / @kkreader78o / @hatergirl-69 / @asv-xx

[hislittlesparklejumpropequeen]

One thing, everything

Carlisle Cullen x female!reader

Summary: Carlisle wants only one thing for himself and you want nothing more than please him. Warnings: AGE GAP, oral sex (m receiving), mentions of vampire thirst, mentions of rough sex, mentions of creampie, cheating, pet names, unhealthy dynamics, kinda dark?Carlisle

Word count: 1033

An: just wanted to write something short for daddy. I wrote this half asleep, so if there are mistakes sorry about that.

Carlisle is sitting in his office. It’s a smaller room compared the places he owned in different hospitals, way different than his offices when he used to teach in universities. It’s gloomy and has a small window. His patients always complain about lack of oxygen in the room. When it gets dark in Forks, his office turns into a cave without the weak fluorescent lights on the ceiling. He would get them changed but he doesn’t need light. In fact, he runs away from light.

His eyes travel trough the walls. There are pictures of his family. His beautiful wife Esme, smiles gracefully as she hugs him. His daughters are beautiful too, Rosalie looks confident as always and Alice is just as joyful. Emmet is holding Rosalie and Alice in his arms in one picture as Jasper smiles- which is quite rarely since they moved back to Forks-. Edward is in only one picture, a family portrait. He remembers how difficult it was to convince him that day. Yet he still couldn’t manage to get him smile.

His gaze finally finds you, kneeling between his legs, looking up to him with doe eyes. Your mouth is full of his cock, lips stretched around his girth. And your spit mixed with his precum drools down your chin to your new top. He notes to buy you a new one this weekend. He smiles softly when you try to take him deeper into your throat. You are holding his thighs, fingers digging in, creates half moon shapes with the sharpness of your nails. His cold fingers caresses your cheek before he holds the base of your hair tight. Your body trembles and your wetness drips onto your underwear. He can smell your arousal, and the flavour of your very existence makes his throat sore with thirstiness. It’s been so long since he craved for a human’s blood. But you, you make him crazy with need.

“Come on pretty girl. Do better for me.” He says gently. Carlisle knows how much power he has over you. Gosh, you’re just a fragile, little human and he looks like a god in your eyes. Tears are flowing down your cheeks and you try to suck him faster. It’s almost like you can feel him down your throat, in your gullet. The sensation is painful and uncomfortable. Yet the satisfaction of Carlisle brings you more pleasure than anything ever. He groans when he feels your lips at the base of his cock. Your breath hits his blonde pubes, your warm, welcoming mouth drives him over the edge. He loves seeing you struggle on your knees, only for him. He loves having you by his feet, and pat your head when you’re good. You look so beautiful when you look up to him with those beautiful eyes of yours, beg for something you want him to get for you and then thank him with different ways he taught you.

He tries to be gentle, as much he can, and guides your head up and down on his cock. You try to catch your breath as he fucks into your mouth. He’s frowning, eyes shut tight and he looks only focused on his climax. Last time, he came on your face. This time he wants to leave his seed deep into your stomach. He knows how much you love when you are able to taste him fully. And he loves making his pretty girl happy. His hips thrusts up few times and before you know, he’s coming in your throat.

“Fuck!” He mutters and his head falls back to his leather chair. His tight hold on your hair loosens as you try to catch your breath and swallow his load. He hears you cough few times but he doesn’t look at you. He thinks of his choices. He knows he has a family, a wife to go back to. And he knows Edward can see his thoughts every single day when they all sit down in the living room, as he hold Esme in his arms. And he knows he doesn’t like it even though he wouldn’t say anything. He wonders if Alice saw this was coming or if she sees something about you that didn’t happen yet.

“Did I do good?” You ask, voice shaky and tears keep running down your cheeks. Your mascara is smudged under your eyes and there are big wet stains on your top. You look like a mess. Carlisle knows what he’s doing is wrong but having one thing for himself feels too good. Having one thing that he doesn’t need to share with others, with the rest of the world is precious. Every single time you enter his office he tells himself that he won’t do it again. And the next thing he knows that he’s fucking you hard on his desk. And in those moments he feels like the weight on his shoulders disappears.

When you’re kissing him, he doesn’t need to think about Jasper’s constant hunger. When youre riding him as your breasts bounce, he doesn’t need to think about Rosalie’s grumpy complaints about everything. When you’re begging him to come deep inside you, he doesn’t need to think about Edward’s century long depression. He only thinks about you when your tight, wet walls clench around him and your eyes roll back in pleasure.

“Yes, baby. You did so good.” He says as he pulls you up this lap. Your arms wrap around his neck when he settles your shaky body against his own. He holds your thigh and kisses you. The kiss is deep and makes you dizzy. His tongue swirls around yours, cold lips pressed against your burning ones.

“My turn to take care of you.” He says as his fingers trace over your skin to your underwear. His lips are right on your neck, kissing slowly when his fingertips meet with your wetness. His tongue stops right on your pulsing vein on the neck. He can only imagine how sweet you might taste. And the thrilling fantasy sends shivers down his spine. The thought of tasting you feels depraved, sick. But nothing in his life delights him more lately.

[sugarushwriting]

vampire enhypen ot7, you’re their human blood bank. (part SEVEN!!??!)

they weren’t happy you ignored them

you’ve been punished; it’s the next day

you’ve learned some things

everything starts to fall apart for the boys

what happens next?

not proof read. feel free and please reblog, like, comment share!! but do not repost or translate.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡

when you awoke the next morning, you found yourself in a familiar bed with familiar surroundings.

jays room.

you remember falling asleep in jake’s room after crying yourself to sleep after being exhausted.

you could still barely move, but had a bit more energy and strength to move your head and arms, but not the rest of your body. you internally cursed. how were you going to go to class?

you heard hushed whispers coming to the door so you quickly closed your eyes pretending to be asleep, calming your heart rate so they wouldn’t notice.

jay and sunghoon entered the room. “she’s still asleep.” sunghoon said.

“good. it means she can’t run from us.” jay said next.

“are you sure we didn’t go over board?” sunghoon asked worried.

“she’s still breathing, so that’s good. i don’t need her to be a brat right now and try to get past us.”

“what’s your plan jay? we keep poisoning her?”

poisoning? you almost blew your cover when your leg jerked but the guys ignored it after they quickly looked you over once more.

jay sighed. “if that’s what it fucking takes, yes.”

“it seems her body may be fighting the poison from our fangs or its wearing off.” sunghoon mentioned. you didn’t need to open your eyes to know he was staring at you. he was waiting to see if you would awake.

“it’ll be a while. jake was the last to go, and knowing him, he probably couldn’t control his use of fangs. it’ll be at least 24 more hours before it comes close to wearing out.”

you heard footsteps coming closer to you, and you had to continue to remain calm. you couldn’t blow your cover, especially after what you heard.

jay tenderly moved your hair from your face, cradling your cheek.

you pretended that his touch is what woke you up. you groaned from his touch, trying not to be repulsed. you slowly opened your eyes to a smiling jay.

“good morning love.”

sunghoon came next to you as well. “how are you feeling babydoll?”

your mouth was still dry. “sore.” you croaked out. “i—i can’t move.”

jays smile grew larger. “that’s okay love, you just had an exhausting night. get some rest. don’t worry about classes for the rest of the week.”

jay kissed your lips, sunghoon then kissed your forehead. “we’ll be around if you need us, doll.” sunghoon said softly.

he and jay walked out, and your mind raced with all kinds of thoughts,

mainly focused on they poisoning you? you racked your brain from yesterday, then realized they each did use their fangs on you. jay was first. he didn’t bite, but it felt like a pinch and then after he was done, you couldn’t move.

you became weak and exhausted.

same with sunghoon. and heeseung. and jake.

wait—jake.

jake didn’t use his fangs!

you gasped at the memory. jake didn’t use his fangs on you! meaning, the last to use the poison from their fangs was heeseung. maybe that’s why you had a bit more movement.

you looked around the room, noticing your phone was on the nightstand beside you, and your belongings were on the floor in jays room.

you finally noticed, and thankfully, was dressed back in a black oversized shirt and black boxers.

jay probably thought you wouldn’t have the strength and the only reason why he left your phone out next to you.

you mustered up all the strength you had to try and reach for your phone.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

“how is she?” ni-ki asked the olders as they came down the stairs.

“she’s okay still weak, but to be expected.” jay answered.

lucky for the three younger ones, they didn’t hear what the four oldest did to you. jay had made sure they had something in either their drink or food to make sure they slept through the night, and to repress their hearing. the youngest also didn’t realize they boys used the poison their fangs contain, to get you to behave, basically.

the youngest aren’t sure really what happened, other than jay found you not feeling well after class.

ni-ki finished his breakfast. “well i should get going before im late to class.”

“you don’t have class for another hour and a half.” jungwon said.

ni-ki froze in place getting up from his seat. sunoo smiled then teased, “he’s going to meet a special girl.”

“she’s not a special girl, she’s just a girl. that’s it. a simple, ordinary girl.” ni-ki argued.

“she better be. don’t get attached.” jay scolded. “the last thing you need is to get into more trouble because you couldn’t contain yourself and fed on another damn human.”

ni-ki bit his tongue, but before he could make a snark reply, his phone dinged from a text message.

eunchae: what coffee do you want today?

“i gotta go.” ni-ki said instead.

“we’ll come with you.” sunoo smiled.

jungwon and sunoo both got up to grab their school bags.

“we’ll make sure he behaves.” jungwon told the oldest boys.

“we will? i just wanted to snoop and meet this girl.” sunoo said.

ni-ki rolled his eyes and went to walk out the door with his two shadows behind him.

once they left, jake spoke, “how is she really?”

“she fine.” jay said shortly. “she’s living and breathing. that’s all that matters.”

“are we gonna just keep pumping her with our poison?” heeseung asked annoyed. “i didn’t like doing that to her.”

“it’s not like she felt anything if you did it right.” jay said.

sunghoon sighed. “she’ll be weak for another day or two since jake was the last one.”

jake’s eyes went wide as he scratched the back of his head. “about that—,”

all three snapped their heads to jake.

“jake?” sunghoon began, worried about what jake did or didn’t do.

jay intensely stared. “you did use your fangs, right?” he asked through gritted teeth.

jake sighed and shook his head. “jay, she couldn’t move at all! i was scared if i injected her with more poison she would’ve died or became permanently paralyzed.”

“shit.” jay yelled and ran up the stairs to his room. sunghoon, heeseung, and reluctantly jake followed behind.

he slammed his door open, almost causing it to knock a hole in the wall behind the knob.

there you were, on the ground, trying to crawl. jay looked up, your phone was still on the nightstand untouched. he let out a breath of relief then walked over to you.

“love, what are you doing?”

“don’t touch me!” you screamed, trying to pound your fist on jays chest. “get off of me! what did you all do to me!” you screamed trying to keep the tears at bay.

you still couldn’t move your lower body. jay was relieved at least half of you was still poisoned from their fangs.

“baby, everything is okay.” heeseung came up from behind jay, trying to calm you.

“fuck you heeseung!”

the doorbell downstairs rung.

“jake go answer it.” jay stated in his authortive tone. he was not happy with jake right now.

jake made no argument as he turned to answer the door downstairs.

you continued to crawl to make your way towards the door, but jay stepped in front of you and bent down.

“you’re not going anywhere love. i told you, you belong to us.”

you looked up to jay with tears in your eyes. “jay please—im sorry.”

jay picked you up and threw you back on the bed. he extended his fangs, ready to poison you once again, until he heard jake yelling for him and sunghoon to get down stairs quickly.

“keep an eye on her.” jay ordered to heeseung. he nodded.

jay and sunghoon made their way downstairs, arguing and mumbling wondering why jake couldn’t handle the guest at the door.

it wasn’t until jay and sunghoon made it to the bottom of the steps that they froze in place at the women standing in the foyer.

“sa—sakura?” jay swalloed.

“kazhua?” sunghoon said in shock.

“hi boys.” they both said in unison. with them was other girls, one with a bob, and the red hair girl sunghoon met the other day at your dorm. jen.

“this is chaewon and yunjin, or you can call her jennifer.” sakura introduced.

“we need to talk.” kazhua said. “immediately.”

“we are kind of busy.” jay said, still not believing sakura was standing in front of him.

how did she find him? how long has she been at this school?

“oh we know.” chae said with her arms crossed.

“go find her.” sakura ordered to chaewon and jen.

“you can’t just—,” sunghoon began but sakura silenced him.

“we can and we will. go girls.”

chaewon and jen went upstairs to find you.

“how did you know she was here?” jay asked.

“she texted us. i knew she had to be here.” sakura said calmly.

“you all talked to her, didn’t you?” sunghoon asked angrily. “feeding things into her mind that isn’t true!”

“we just told her about our past with you. we didn’t tell her anything she didn’t already know.” kazhua stated calmly.

jay and sunghoon didn’t appreciate how calm they were.

jake stood in shock that he was finally seeing and meeting the girls who changed jay and sunghoons life.

sakura and kazhua finally noticed jake’s stares. they nodded and bowed to the boy and he did the same and return.

jen and chaewon brought you down the stairs in their arms and your stuff on one of their backs. heeseung was right behind them.

“she can’t move her legs.” chaewon said.

“drop her.” jay ordered but the girls didn’t.

“he said, drop her.” sunghoon also ordered but the girls weren’t phased.

“your mind control won’t work on us, vampies.” jen said. “just like it won’t work on her.”

sunghoon took a breath in anger. they gave you something, they had to. that’s why you didn’t come with him that day.

“she will be coming with us.”

“no, she belongs here, with us. she is ours.” jays patience has left out the window. his voice got deeper. “you are not to take her.”

just then ni-ki walked in with eunchae laughing.

“ni-ki.” sunghoon said in warning. who was this girl?

“hi eunchae.” sakura greeted then turned to jay, “seems like one of your own is cozy with ours.”

“you just had to become friendly with a fucking seraphim.” sunghoon shook his head.

“hey! she’s nice and nothing is wrong with her.” ni-ki defended.

“this is eunchae? the damn girl you’ve been mentioning?” jay scolded.

“what’s the big problem?” ni-ki asked.

eunchae moved over to the older girls. slowly but surely your feelings in your legs was coming back, so you were able to just lean against jen to help stand you up with balance.

“you disobeyed us.”

“no! you said i just couldn’t be alone with a human. she’s not human now that you know.”

“that’s it you are going to switzerland.”

“no i am not! i have done everything you asked of me since i last messed up.”

“this sounds like a family matter. we will leave now.” sakura stated, and all the girls turned to leave.

when the boys tried to stop, sakura had enough and held out her hand, weakening the vampires. they immediately got headaches.

“we will be leaving with her and you will not be able to track us.”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

it took another day, but you started to feel like yourself again. the boys poison had ran its course through your body, and the seraphims kept a close eye on you.

jay and sunghoon were distraught when you left, jake and heeseung mad at themselves for going along with the plan to begin with. jay was not happy with jake because without his poison, you were able to reach out to help. jay put all the blame on jake.

ni-ki has been ignoring jay due to his threat of sending him to switzerland. sunoo and jungwon had an idea of what happened, but stayed quiet to stay out of the mess.

you rested in the bunk below eunchae, reaching out to all your professors stating you had a family emergency and they were understanding, sending you your school work for the next 2 weeks.

sakura also had a helping hand in them being so nice and understanding about it.

the next day in class, ni-ki went up to eunchae to apologize about the olders behavior towards her the other day.

“it’s fine, im not surprised.”

“how is she?” he asked about you. eunchae hesitated. “i am not going to tell them if you tell me. im still pissed at them myself.”

eunchae sighed. “she’s okay. she’s better.”

“can i come see her, please?”

“i don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“please. i promise this is for me, not them.”

eunchae reluctantly agreed but made ni-ki blind folded so he couldn’t see the house. once inside she took the blind fold off and sakura gave eunchae a warning look.

ni-ki bowed apologetically with respect. “i am not here for them. i am worried about her myself. i promise i will not tell them about this.”

eunchae took ni-ki upstairs where you were. you were shocked to see ni-ki but relaxed. you, eunchae, and ni-ki just talked about random things.

it wasn’t until around 8 at night when ni-ki returned.

“go pack your bags, ni-ki. your flight is tomorrow.” jay ordered.

ni-ki scoffed, “i think i rather be anywhere but here.”

everything and everyone was falling apart.

“jay, go easy on him.” sunghoon said. “he probably was just with eunchae. no word on any humans hurt.”

“i don’t care, sunghoon. he blatantly ignored our rules once again.” jay said, leaving no room for any kick back.

that night ni-ki packed a duffle and showed up on the seraphims porch. he may not have remembered the house, but he could remember the smells around the area.

eunchae answered the door after receiving a call from him, “dude, it’s one in the morning!”

“im sorry,” ni-ki apologized. sakura came behind eunchae seeing the younger boy with tears fighting behind his eyes.

“come on in. you can sleep on the couch.”

sakuras inner mom side came out, although she wasn’t really a mom. honestly, she saw ni-ki as her own child like eunchae. they both were around the same age, and not to mention became a supernatural creature at such a young age. it’s not easy.

sakura made sure ni-ki was comfy on the couch, thankfully their couch big enough for the tall boy. she put some fruit out with tea and water. “i don’t have any blood, sorry.”

“it’s fine, i packed some.” he chuckled and got comfy on the couch. “thank you.”

“of course. you’re young. you don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

“what’s going to happen with or to me?” ni-ki asks worried.

sakura sighed, “i don’t know, but let me figure it out, okay?”

you laid in bed wondering what was next for you. you couldn’t avoid the boys forever. you couldn’t hide forever, could you?

if they went through this much trouble to poison you and keep you at bay, what would they do next?

you sat up quickly in bed, and climbed the ladder to eunchae’s bed. you shook her awake.

“how do i become a seraphim?”

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡

i just need to note, I AM NOT SHIPPING ANY OF LE SSERAFIM WITH ENHYPEN

i am not shipping eunchae with ni-ki!!! i just think they would be great friends!!!

[tradgedyinwaves]

Touch - Ch. 12

tw: medical jargon, allusions to sex,

“Oh, Si, I wish you were awake. I miss your voice.” 

“I left some hyacinths for you. I hope you can smell them in there.” 

“Johnny was released today. We’re just waiting for you, Si.” 

“We miss you, Si. We aren’t the same without you.” 

“They’re waking you up tomorrow.” 

The more you spoke to him, his visions would change more and more. One time you weren’t beaten so gravely before having your skin sliced open. The next time there wasn’t any torture, just you and him staring at each other. After that, you were free, standing in the room as you watched him. Then you were both unbound in the same cell. It continued until finally the pair of you were in your bedroom in your tiny flat, enjoying each other’s presence. 

When the haze finally lifted, he didn’t come out thrashing and cursing like he had before. He was calm, eyes blinking at the fluorescents. You lifted your head as you felt him twitch under your cheek. “Simon? Simon!” you gasped, hand flying up to cover your mouth while tears filled your water line. The doctors had lifted his sedation hours ago, stating it might take him a while to come out of it, if he did at all. 

A nurse flew into the room at your outburst, immediately coming to check on Simon’s vitals. A low growl filled the room and your hand grabbed his, giving it a light squeeze. “She’s just checking to make sure everything looks right. She’s not going to hurt you, Si,” you gave him a small smile as his dark eyes came to meet yours. A grunt and a nod were the only response he provided.

Once the nurse left, he opened his mouth to say something but you quickly shushed him, grabbing a cup of water from the table. Giving him the same treatment Kyle had given you and Johnny, you held the straw to his lips and let him drink down what he could. “You had a feeding tube so your throat is going to be sore,” you explained before retaking your seat and setting down the cup of water.

“Do you think you can write?” you asked and he nodded, giving you a pained look. “I know, my love. It sucks but we’ll get you taken care of. You’re already healing so fast. The doctors think you can leave in about three weeks. The rest of us are okay. Even Johnny. We’ve been waiting for you to be woken up.” You explained every bit of information you thought he needed from a list of everyone’s injuries to what you knew of the operation. “They won’t tell me what happened to Moses. I don’t have the clearance.” your voice conveyed your annoyance, but you’d been reassured that he’d been handled. How, you didn’t know. You took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze before grabbing the whiteboard and marker from your bag and laid it in his lap, removing the cap so he could use it. 

Are you okay?

“I am. I start seeing a therapist next week, but all of my physical injuries are mostly healed. Just have the shiner and the permanent choker,” you joked, lifting your chin so he could see the half healed wound across the front of your throat. 

He made a face at your joke, quickly erasing his words and writing something else down. 

Not funny

“Oh come on, Si. It’s a little funny,” you teased but sighed when his brow rose and he made a face. “Alright. It’s not funny. But I’m coping and it’s a reminder that I survived,” you reasoned, lifting a hand to run your fingertips over the tender, pink flesh. 

He scowled in response before his eyes widened at the intrusion of the other three into his room. “Aye, look who finally woke up!” Johnny called from the door as he came to sit on Simon’s other side. Kyle’s hands wrapped around the foot board of Simon’s bed, leaning on it as he examined the lieutenant on the bed. John pinched the bridge of his nose at Johnny’s excitement. “Alright, Si?” John grunted at the bedridden man and Si nodded back before furiously writing on his whiteboard.

Moses?

John just nodded, eyes darting to you then back. 

She deserves to know

“It’s not up to me. You know I’d tell her if I was allowed to,” John replied while you sat there, looking back and forth between the two men. Frustration was getting to you again. You wanted to know what happened to the man that had had you kidnapped. It was the least they could do.  

Tell her

John looked between you and Simon as he waged a war inside himself before sighing. “Everything I tell you here, you don’t know. If anyone asks, you claim you know nothing,” John looked at you with fierce eyes while Kyle went to close the door. You nodded, frowning a little at the seriousness of the situation. 

“He’s dead. Or will be at least. He’s being held in a secure location until they can charge him with everything,” John explained, watching your reactions. You nodded, letting the information worm its way into your brain. “So I’m safe? All of you are safe?” you queried, catching your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Yes, petal. We’re safe.” Johnny replied for John, giving you that wonderfully lopsided smile of his. 

Three Weeks Later. 

Simon groaned as John helped him from the bed while you watched from the wall. You weren’t nearly strong enough to help lift the behemoth of a man. You’d figured that out when you took Simon for a walk and he happened to stumble. You caught him, sure, but more as a landing pad than anything else. Since then, there was always a male nurse or one of the guys with you if you were the one to take him on his stroll. 

Once he was up and properly supported by John, you joined the two and took up Simon’s other arm. Laying it across your shoulders, you smiled up at him softly. He was still healing, but his doctors were no longer worried about his chest collapsing in and damaging his organs, so they released him. You were pretty sure they were relieved too. 

Simon hadn’t been a very good patient. Sneaking out of his bed in the middle of the night, just to be found at the end of the hallway on the floor when he slipped. Stealing extra food when he was finally able to shuffle around without falling. And he was always sneering at everyone. The nurses hated to come by, finally just asking you if he was good before skipping out after quickly reading over his monitors from the door. 

Getting him home had been another feat. He demanded to have real food, insisting on the diner down the road from his flat. Kyle had called ahead, running inside once there and collecting the massive order before returning to the truck. Simon immediately dug into his burger, silent as he ate the entire thing in the five minutes it took to get back to the flat. 

When they finally managed to get the hulking man up into the flat, there was another tussle. Johnny had left the dishes in the sink, Kyle hadn’t taken out the trash and the clicking sound still remained in the freezer despite John saying he’d take care of it. You seemed to be the only one who could do no wrong to Simon. 

He spent the first two hours he was home, tearing into all of them for not taking care of HIS flat. While they were all welcome to live there, he was still the one paying for everything and all he asked was that they cleaned up their messes. Eventually, you got him to leave them alone, shooting each of them a look that told them to scram and get their shit done.

It took another week before the five of you found a system. Simon still couldn’t lift anything so most things were left to the rest of you, but he always did the dishes. Johnny wasn’t supposed to lift things, but he found that taking out the trash didn’t pull his side. Kyle made dinner every night without fail and made sure you had lunch for the next day. John fixed the freezer. And the squeaky door hinges. And the flickering light in the hall. 

You’d been going to therapy for a month at that point and while you’d been cleared by both the doctor and your therapist, the boys refused to touch you. Before everything had happened, they couldn’t keep their hands off you. Someone was always touching you whether it was an arm around your shoulder or a hand on the small of your back. You even missed Simon and Johnny poking you randomly throughout the day. 

When John actually flattened himself against the wall when passing you so he didn’t accidentally brush against you, you snapped. “All of you, living room, now!” You practically screamed, puffing as you headed into the living room yourself. You never raised your voice so the increased volume had them tripping over themselves.

Johnny actually pushed Kyle out of the way in his fear, making the other man bump into the wall and groan. Once they were finally all seated, you stood before them with your arms crossed and a hard look on your face. “Will one of you please explain why you are all so terrified to touch me?” 

They all looked appropriately sheepish, even Simon who hadn’t had to move from where he’d been sitting on the couch. “Well, see, we just wanted to give you space, right? We didn’t think you’d want to be touched,” Johnny tried to explain, sufficiently nervous. You glared even harder and tapped your foot.

“Didya even think to ASK me? Ever think talking to me might have been a better way to do things?” You were glaring at John now, their captain and usually the leader of the ragtag group of men. “We just didn’t want to upset you, little bird. I know the therapist said you were okay, but we were scared we’d trigger something,” John tried to explain, looking up at you with those soft baby blues.

“Well, knock it off. I miss my boys,” you pouted at them, bottom lip jutted out and everything. John raised up onto his feet and stepped towards you, making your eyes travel up rather than down at him. The others joined him, surrounding you in a wall of big burly men. You swallowed hard, their gazes dark and filled with lust now that you’d given them permission. 

You’d never been with all of them at the same time. Usually, it was only one of them except for the few times that John would lean on the door frame and watch one of his boys ruin you while adjusting himself in his trousers. 

Simon stepped up behind you, pulling your hair back from your neck before ghosting his low, husky words across your skin. “Oh, luv, we miss you too.” 

Alright. We're getting so close to the end. Honestly, I know I just reposted the poll and said there'd be another part. But I think the epilogue is next.

Thank you to everyone who has been supporting this series! I really appreciate every comment, reblog, and like. <3

[allieslittlewritings]

*not my gif <3

Spencer Reid x daughter!reader

Sick Day

Summary: Reader has a cold and Spencer takes care of her

Warnings: Mild sickness, none that I know of

Word Count: ~1.1k

Dread filled your stomach when you woke up and felt the annoyingly familiar feeling of a sore throat and blocked nose.

You tiredly looked at the time on your phone and saw that you were almost late for school.

Begrudgingly, you got out of bed and started to get ready, doing your best to ignore your worsening sickness.

You heard your dad knock on your door and mentally prepared yourself to pretend to be fine.

Spencer was always incredibly attentive when you were sick, sometimes overly so.

Usually it was comforting and nice, but right now you just needed to get ready so you wouldn't be late for school.

You didn't fully register that you hadn't actually said anything yet.

"Sweetheart? Can I come in?" Spencer asked.

"Yes." You prayed he couldn't hear the difference in your voice from your stuffy nose.

He opened your door and entered your room, a plate of food in hand, "I know you're almost late but I made you some breakfast."

He put the plate down on your desk and noticed your frazzled behavior.

Your bed was still unmade. A few random items of clothing were thrown here and there, presumably from when you got dressed, and he noticed the frantic way you tried to make sure you had everything you needed.

"Are you okay? Did you oversleep?"

"Uh, yeah, apparently." You grabbed your hairbrush and started trying to make your hair look more presentable.

It was apparently one of those days where your hair would just not comply.

Spencer saw your breathing get heavier, a tell-tale sign that you were getting frustrated.

"Your hair looks fine," he remarked.

"Fine isn't good enough," you grumbled in response.

Your preoccupation with your hair meant you didn't see the way his eyes narrowed as he studied you a little closer.

It was nearly impossible for you to hide things from him, with his mixture of parental instincts and profiling skills.

"Are you sure you're okay?" It was honestly kind of a trick question, he could tell you weren't.

You swallowed less often than usual, an indication of a sore throat. Your breathing was quiet, and less frequent. And he could in fact hear the tiny change in your voice. He saw the way you paused to think about every little thing, like everything you did took a lot of effort.

You also showed no indication of being about to eat the food he brought you, your tastebuds tended to get weird when you were sick.

"I'm fine." A harshness you rarely displayed was evident in your tone of voice.

"Sweetie, I can tell you're sick," Spencer finally said.

"I'm not sick," you insisted.

"Yes, you are," he said more sternly.

"Why didn't you just tell me, sweetheart?" he asked gentler.

"Why would it matter?" You started heading to the door but your dad stopped you by lightly holding your shoulder.

"You can't go to school if you're sick, you need to rest."

"I'll be fine, just let me go." You shrugged his hand off of your shoulder in annoyance.

"Baby, I'm serious. If you force yourself to go out and sit through hours of school, you'll make your health worse, and you could get other kids sick."

You frustratedly looked at him. "I'm fine," you repeated.

"Come on, odds are you already know everything your teachers would say. And it's Friday, you'll probably be better by Monday."

He wasn't wrong.

But you had it so ingrained in your head that you couldn't miss a day of school. You couldn't honestly explain why.

Spencer was well aware of that thinking pattern of yours, but your health and wellbeing would always matter more.

He noticed you pondering it in your head.

"I don't have work today," he reminded you. "We can have a nice, relaxed day together, it'll be fun."

"Okay," you finally agreed.

Spencer breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm gonna call the school quickly to let them know you're not going."

Hearing that phrase left a bad taste in your mouth, but you also felt a weight lift from your shoulders knowing you could just rest.

You put your backpack down and got changed into comfier clothes again.

Spencer came back to your room after calling your school.

"I can make you something else to eat if you don't want to eat that." Spencer gestured to your still untouched plate.

You looked over at the food. "I don't want to be wasteful." You looked back at your dad with a twinge of guilt in your expression.

"You won't be, I'll eat it," Spencer assured you.

You nodded your head, not wanting to talk more because of your sore throat.

Spencer picked up the plate from your desk and started exiting your room, with you following behind him.

He made you food that was more appealing to your taste buds at the time and then you both settled comfortably on the couch.

Spencer grabbed a blanket for you and some tissues for your nose.

He let you pick a movie to watch. Unsurprisingly, it was the same one you always wanted to watch.

He didn't mind. Although it wasn't exactly his favorite movie, it was yours. Which automatically meant he loved it, too.

It made him happy to see the awe in your eyes everytime you watched it. The way you quietly mouthed the lines to yourself.

Spencer took your empty plate to the kitchen and came back with some medicine and a glass of water for you.

You quickly drank it and then turned on your favorite show.

While you watched your show, Spencer made your favorite kind of soup. Also the only type of soup he knew how to make.

You ate in silence, except for a few chuckles every now and then at the series you were watching.

Spencer read for a while after you both finished eating, seeing as he'd already watched every episode of your favorite show at least twice, and could recite almost all of them word for word.

You finished the last episode of the season you were on and just sat in silence for a minute.

The sun set and Spencer turned on a few lights before going back to his book.

"Dad?" You said quietly.

"Mhm?" Spencer hummed in response, turning a page.

"Can you read to me, please?"

A soft smile graced Spencer's face, "Of course I can. Anything specific you want me to read?"

You sat up slowly and shook your head.

Spencer held one of his arms open and waited for you to lay down on his chest.

He gently stroked your arm and pulled the blanket further up your body.

Although you didn't care much about the topic of his book, hearing his voice was soothing.

"Dad?" You interrupted him after a bit.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Thank you for taking care of me," you mumbled sleepily.

"You're welcome, sweetheart. That's what I'm here for."

"I love you," you said quietly, cuddling into him further.

"I love you, too."

Your tired eyes finally shut and you fell asleep.

Spencer let you sleep for a while before eventually picking you up and putting you in your bed.

Sick days weren't so terrible when you got to spend them with your dad.

fin. ♡