#and I’ve been trying to flush out a possible infection

[vashti-lives]

I don’t know why my brain is so bad at processing my own allergies but boy!!!!!!

[din-miller]

Late Night Baking

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word count: 1.1k

Summary: Comfortember day thirteen: baking

Warning: injury, blood, hurt/comfort, it’s actually mostly just comfort, implications to sexy times, married couple, set in Jackson

A/N: ‘you can’t have comfort without hurt - Justice joy’

“It’s been a while since I’ve baked,” You announced, startling the two ‘bakers’ fumbling their way around the kitchen, “But if I recall correctly, the batter is supposed to go in the bowl, not on your body and clothing.”

Joel turned around, a small white handprint stark against his black shirt, right where his heart is located; his hair almost completely white – which, whoa is that ever a look – and a dusting of flour is generously canvassed across his body.

Ellie giggled, herself covered in flour and what looked like egg yolks in her hair, while Joel blushed and wiped his hands free of baking ingredients, “You weren’t supposed to be home until late. We weren’t expectin’ you.”

“Clearly,” You hummed, “What is all this?”

Joel grabbed a whisk off the floor, most likely a result of you scaring him, and waved it in the teen’s direction, “Apparently Ellie’s school is doing a baking contest.”

You sent Ellie a look, “And you’re just now telling us?” You glanced at the clock, “At ten o’clock at night?”

“Hey, I wasn’t planning on telling you at all but then Maria had to go run her mouth at dinner and boom, now we’re here.”

“And what is it that you're attempting to make?”

“Cupcakes?” Ellie offered with a small wince.

You took in all the ingredients laid out messily across the kitchen, lips pressed together tightly to suppress a sigh, “Please tell me you’re not using baking powder…”

“I told you!” Ellie exclaimed, glaring at Joel, “I told him to use baking soda. Tell her Joel, tell her I told you.”

You raised a brow at the man, awaiting his answer. He rolled his eyes, “She told me so.”

You gave a little ‘aha’ before stretching out your stiff joints, “Get this all cleaned up and we’ll start again. Right now I’m going to have a shower.”

“Need help?” Joel asked, back turned to you as he set the whisk in the sink, then, after a beat he turned around flushed to the nines and Ellie awkwardly cleared her throat as all colour drained Joel’s face, “i, no, it’s – you have a cut and I wanted to know if you needed help cleanin’ it. That’s all, I swear.”

Right, the barely visible scratch you got out on patrol today.

“It’s nothing.” You waved him off, because really, it’s barely even bled.

Ellie leaned forward like she’s trying to observe how deep the cut is without actually appearing like so. As nonchalantly as possible she said, “Just let him check you over.”

Knowing you weren’t going to win this, you sighed and pointed a finger at her, “Fine, but I want this kitchen spotless by the time I’m done.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening,”

“I spent the last seven hours killing infected, you can manage to clean the kitchen, you understand?”

Maybe it’s your tone or you look as rough as you feel because Ellie bit her bottom lip and said, “Yes sir.”

You nodded at her, a silent thanks before taking Joel’s hand in yours and leading him up the stairs to your ensuite bathroom. Once inside, the door closed, Joel gave a small hum and brought his lips to yours.

“Did I miss anything exciting today?” Joel stepped back enough to let his hands work at slowly undressing you, brown eyes taking in every inch of your body, looking for injuries. When the only one he could find is on your cheek he breathed out a deep breath of relief.

You leaned into his hands, eyes closing as you breath in his familiar scent, letting it comfort you the way it always does, “Nothing worth mentioning, honey.”

His hand cupped your cheek, “Then how’d you get this?”

You scrunched up your nose, cheeks flooding with embarrassment, “I accidentally let the kickback catch me.”

Joel doesn’t even try to hide the grin on his lips following your words. The bastard. He tilted your cheek to the side studying the cut. It’s not deep, barely bleed but a cut is a cut in Joel’s eyes and cuts are not to be taken lightly.

He grabbed a clean washcloth and started to wipe at the dried blood, his other hand cupping the back of your neck when you hissed and pulled away, “Darlin’ I need to clean it.”

You closed your eyes, letting him continue without pulling away. Once Joel decided it was clean enough he backed away and you shivered as his warm body was replaced by cold air biting at your naked skin.

As he rinsed away the blood soaking into the cloth, you leisurely took in his clothed figure, knowing what lies beneath the fabric. Not that you’re wanting or expecting anything to happen, you don’t have the energy, but you can’t deny how attractive your husband is standing in just his pjs that Ellie had picked out last Christmas. You laid your hand on his chest, thumb brushing over the fabric, “Ellie wake you up?”

He shrugged, then gently pressed a kiss to the corner of your cut, “Kid didn’t mean too. I fell asleep on the couch, she didn’t know I was there.”

Your hand slipped under Joel’s shirt and pulled it over his head, “What did I tell you about waiting up for me?”

“That it makes you happy?” Joel tried. When you levelled him with an unimpressed glare, he tried a different approach, “That it makes you horny?”

“Joel Miller it does no such thing!”

He looked down at you, a smirk on his lips and mirth dancing in his eyes, “If I remember correctly, the last time I waited up for you I got the ride of my life.”

“You must live a boring life.” You hooked your fingers in the waistband of his pjs, waiting for his nod before pulling them down over the globe of his ass, hands tracing every inch of the skin presented to you.

Joel’s head dropped down onto your shoulder, face hot with a blush. The one he always gets whenever you treat him like a man who should be worshipped, “Never a day boring with you honey.”

“I like to think that’s true,” You turned the showers handle to hot as Joel stripped himself of his remaining clothes, “Let’s shower before Ellie burns the house down.”

Joel snorted, “I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s passed out on the couch right now.”

You gesture for him to go in first, not out of politeness but more so to make sure the water is comfortable temperature wise, “If she is we can do the baking ourselves. I don’t really want to have another shower tonight.”

Joel pulled your naked body against his, “But you’d look fancy with a flour moustache my darlin’.”

[bradshawsbaby]

Hi!! for the october opt prompt, could you please do 19. “Always” and 28. Forehead kisses for Hannix 💖 thank you and have a great day/night!!

If there was one thing Phoenix knew to be true about her boyfriend, it was the fact that he was an absolute drama queen when he was sick.

Jake Seresin could come down with the world’s simplest cold, and he would lie in bed as if he was an orphan dying of tuberculosis in a novel penned by Charles Dickens.

“Please, Minx? Will you make me some soup? I’m dying here,” he’d begged the last time he’d caught the sniffles, blankets pulled up to his chin as he gazed up at her with puppy dog eyes.

“You’re a little congested,” Phoenix had told him in response, rolling her eyes. “Give me a break, Bagman.”

“I’m touched by your concern,” he had shot back sarcastically, huffing dramatically as he pushed back the covers and stood to go make himself some soup.

That had been mild cold and he’d been annoying. Now that he had come down with the flu, he was verging on insufferable.

Phoenix would admit that at least this time, he really was sick. And she did feel bad. He’d had an awful fever for the past couple days, and he’d complained multiple times about a splitting headache and intense body aches. She hadn’t caught the flu in years, but she remembered how miserable it was. Still, she couldn’t help but also recognize that he was truly milking the situation for all it was worth.

“Could I have back rub, Minx?”

“I think chicken noodle soup would really make me feel better right now. But not the one from a can. That one you make from scratch?”

“Can you get me the remote, babe?”

“I think I’m dying.”

“Would you miss me if I died?”

“I’d miss you if I died.”

Some of his more ridiculous comments were no doubt a side effect of the medication he was currently taking to try to combat the virus infecting his system. As loopy as they made him, Phoenix was adamant about Hangman taking his medication so that they could both get past this flu as quickly as possible.

“Minx,” Hangman murmured in the middle of the evening as Phoenix was leaning over him, adjusting his pillows and smoothing out his blanket.

“Yes?” Phoenix replied, trying to sound as patient as possible, though she was tempted to roll her eyes. She was sure another request would soon be coming.

“I love you,” he told her, reaching out and resting a hand on her arm. His eyes were heavy after another dose of medicine, but he was clearly fighting to keep them open. “And thank you.”

Phoenix’s mouth popped open in surprise, and a small bit of guilt for her earlier impatience niggled at her. “You’re welcome, Bagman,” she smiled, smoothing his hair away from his forehead. His fever had broken thankfully, though his skin was still flushed. “I just want you to get better as soon as possible.”

“I know I’ve been annoying,” he admitted sheepishly, suddenly introspective in the midst of his loopiness.

“No, not annoying,” Phoenix said, shaking her head as she sat on the edge of the bed and took his hand in hers. “Just a bit melodramatic maybe,” she teased with a grin.

“But you still love me?” he asked urgently, yawning despite himself as his eyes started to close.

Phoenix laughed softly, reminded once again of just how much she adored this dramatic idiot of hers. Leaning forward, she pressed a tender kiss to his still-warm forehead. “Always,” she whispered.

Hangman just smiled as he fell asleep.

October OTP Writing Prompts 🤧

[littleperilstories]

The Prince of Thieves: How Could You Do This to Me?

Mood Boards | Chapter Titles | Also on A03!

Warnings: Fantasy-esque prison setting, restraints (shackles), infected wound, creepy villain, fucked up power dynamics, betrayal, guilt, fear, death wish, mention of family member death

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Word count: 1978 || Approx reading time: 8 mins

How Could You Do This to Me?

Teaser: “Fox,” I gasp, my palms stinging and my cheeks burning, “it’s me, it’s Bree—” “I fucking know.” He pushes me away a second time. “Don’t you fucking touch me.”

Bree

As we stand before Fox’s cell, Hatchett unlocks the manacles. His cold fingers brush against my skin, and the sensation makes my stomach turn. I pinch my lips together in a weak attempt to hide my revulsion.

“Think about what we discussed, Miss Cooper.” His hand closes around my wrist, preventing me from escaping him just yet, although he pulls open the cell door. I cannot meet his eyes, nor shrug from his touch, nor shield myself at all.

His gaze is like a gaunt, icy finger, trailing down my cheek in a motion both intimate and hideous, sending shivers down my spine. There’s no affection in his stare, nor any lust. It’s nothing more than a reminder—though the metal is gone from my wrists, I am still bound. A subtle nod to the fact that although I got what I wanted and should be revelling in my victory, I am still on the losing side of the war.

The amount of self-control it takes for me not to wrench my arm from his grip is positively cosmic.

Don’t fucking touch me, is what I want to say.

Instead, I remain still—trying desperately not to shiver—and wait for him to nudge me into the iron cage that will hold both Fox and me prisoner until Gysborne arrives to, hopefully, take care of Fox’s fever.

Hatchett, however, does not release me just yet. “Don’t you have something to say to me? Something you forgot?”

If I say the words he’s seeking, I will surely gag. But he doesn’t let go of my arm.

“Thank you, Constable Hatchett.”

He smirks, lets go, and when I am fully inside the cell, he slams the door shut.

Fox has fallen asleep or perhaps passed out in the time I’ve been gone. His body is limp, back slumped against the wall and legs stretched awkwardly over the filthy floor, his breathing laboured. With a grimace, I approach, unsure of what to expect. How much did he hear when I called for the constables to bring Hatchett so I could beg him for an audience? If he heard, how much does he remember? How betrayed does he feel? How angry?

Trapped too deeply in sleep, he doesn’t hear me draw near, and I let him rest. There is little I can do until someone brings clean water and cloth. How long I will be waiting, I cannot tell.

While I wait, I inspect him, the feverish man before me. From this distance and in the terrible light, it’s hard to see clearly whether his face is flushed or pale, or which wound might be inflamed and red with infection. Whether he sleeps with peace painted upon his features, or with fitful, restless pain. So long as he is unconscious, I cannot possibly tell how much strength remains in those fever-ridden limbs.

It is both too soon and not soon enough when someone brings a bucket of steaming water, a constable I don’t know. I don’t bother to thank him, but focus on Fox. Quietly, clearing my throat, I say his name—well, the only name I have for him.

He doesn’t stir.

“Fox.” I move closer. “It’s Bree. Can you wake up? I want to help you.”

He does not wake until I lay my hand on his arm. With a gasp, he jerks to wakefulness under my hands.

“Get the hell off me!”

He shoves me away with surprising force for someone who’s dying, and I have to regain my balance, bracing my hands against the floor.

“Fox,” I gasp, my palms stinging and my cheeks burning, “it’s me, it’s Bree—”

“I fucking know.” He pushes me away a second time. “Don’t you fucking touch me.”

If I don’t get a hold of my emotions quickly, I’m going to cry. I can feel the ache in my throat, threatening to overcome any words I might use to convince him to hear me out. “Please listen to me.”

“Listen?” he spits, struggling to support himself on a single shaking arm—still avoiding using the one with the shoulder wound. “I already fucking did. ‘I want to make a deal.’ How could you?”

His voice is furious, but it’s weak—broken and strained, like a branch snapped in a storm. Thready fibres are all that remain to stop it from splitting and crashing to the forest floor.

“And how d-dare—How dare you come back in here now? Shouldn’t you be out there h-helping him to find—”

Oh, I deserve his wrath, and I know it, but I’m not giving up. I can’t, not now. “Wait. Just—I—”

“What d-do you know? What did you t-tell him?”

“Please listen,” I repeat. “I swear, I swear, I’m only trying to help you.”

“Help me, how?” His words splutter out, stitched together and slurred. “You expect me to believe you? What did you s-say?”

I try to inch closer, but still he moves away. “You’re sick. I needed to get him to listen. So I bargained for…” How to even explain it? Real medical care? For the medic to do his damn job? A clean environment? Some basic human decency? “Medicine.”

“You told him...”

I pull in a sharp breath, unable to ignore the hitch in my chest and the tears smarting in my eyes. “I told him about how IA passes messages. Stuff about being a runner.”

Fever clouds his gaze, but suspicion spikes through, too. He doesn’t believe me. How could he possibly know there’s more? I thought for sure he didn’t remember telling me he has a brother.

“What else?”

“Nothing,” I say, the lie slipping out before I can really think it through. Please, I think toward my trembling limbs, please stop—lest they give me away for the liar I am.

“You told them C-Col—” He chokes to a stop, teeth chattering again. “Spider’s s-secrets.”

“Yes.” I point toward the bucket. If he doesn’t stop arguing with me, it’s going to get cold. “I traded her secrets for the chance to get rid of your—”

“You h-h-had no fucking right.”

“Do you hear yourself?” I don’t know how much of this is fever and how much of this is just him being difficult. “You’re sick! Dying! I couldn’t just sit over there and watch!”

“But you could fuck up everything for everyone else.”

“That’s not fair.” How much logic is going to get through to him right now? “If they have any sense, Fox, they’re already gone and out of reach.”

He jerks back as if I’ve slapped him.

Fuck.

I may as well have said, Your brother left you here to die.

Which, while true, is not the best thing to say when I’m trying to get him to believe me. To trust me. To, at the very least, listen.

“I told you,” I say. “I don’t want you to…” I swallow the lump in my throat. “I had to bargain, or else he wouldn’t listen. Please don’t let it have been a waste.”

He’s shaking. From rage, or from chills? I cannot tell.

“Please.” I don’t know what else to say. I am still forcing back tears. “Do you want to die?”

“Yes.”

This answer is cruel, a punch to the stomach, a blow that leaves a bruise—and not what I expected. I hope he doesn’t mean it.

But perhaps I’m just naïve.

Guilt swirls through me as I am reminded of just how far I’ve gone, driven by nothing but pure selfishness.

Don’t leave me here alone. My own words float back to me, bringing stabbing pain to my chest and sweat to my brow. Here I am, trying to soften his current pain to draw out the rest of it. Allowing the torturous last days of his life to drag on.

I cannot let myself dwell upon why.

“Do you want to die here?” I try a different angle. “In here? Do you want to—to let Hatchett win?”

He glares at me with weary eyes. Slowly, the heat of his anger fades.

“What’s the difference?” Hopelessness is all I can hear in his words. “Bree, at least if I—if I die now, I die knowing I n-never gave in.”

There he goes again—shattering my heart.

“I watched my mother die.” I didn’t intend on saying this, but now that I’ve started, I realize how much this memory is fuelling my actions, and I can’t stop. All it took was a little slip of a knife against her hand and a plethora of ill luck. “She got sick too, and by the time we realized how bad it was, there was nothing anyone could do to help her. All I could do was watch. And now it’s happening again. Only this time, I know better. I don’t have to just stand by and watch you suffer. So I…” My mouth has gone dry. “I did what I did. I’m sorry. But I’m not…not really.”

His eyes close and reopen, slow and fluttering, butterflies’ wings on the eve of the first frost. “You s-swear? You promise?” His good hand uncurls from his fist. “You didn’t tell him anything else? Nothing else?

I shake my head.

He stares warily. Please, just trust me. Please let me come closer.

“Why are you still alive?” His voice is quieter, less furious now, but he’s out of breath, gasping in air too quickly. “Why didn’t he hang you like he hanged Ezra Johnston?”

It takes me a moment to remember who he’s talking about—the man who was caught before me. Who was killed. For whose execution I was a spectator.

“I don’t know,” I say, and I pray once again he won’t detect the lie.

He doesn’t ask again, doesn’t push the subject. Relief floods through me, but it’s cheap. Hollow.

“Let me look.” My voice shakes. “They might let you out. Bring you to the medic bay. I don’t know. But please let me help you until then.”

This time, when I approach, he doesn’t shift away, nor does he struggle as I tug away the old bandage on his shoulder. It’s immediately apparent that this wound is the culprit. The bandage doesn’t look like it’s been changed in days, and it’s burning. He gasps at my touch.

“Fucking—hurts—”

“I know,” I say. Is this partially my fault? That day, the day with the flask, I was so worried about the goddamn lashes across his back… I just assumed the shoulder wound was fine. But today it’s flaming hot, the swollen redness visible even in the dim light.

I’m no doctor—farthest thing from one—but I know this is bad. “You want to lie down?”

“No.” He leans back against the wall. It can’t be comfortable with the other wounds pressed against the stone, but he doesn’t complain.

“It’s going to hurt.”

“I know.”

He is quieter than I expect while I wash out the shoulder wound. No cries of pain. The first time I glance at his face, his eyes are squeezed tightly closed, his jaw set. The next time, his eyes are open, but his gaze is distant. I wonder if he’s even really feeling it.

“Are you still with me?” I ask, letting my lank, unwashed hair fall in front of my face as I wring out the cloth. He nods, but he says nothing, and I know he’s not. Not really.

Hatchett would want me to take advantage of this moment. Ask for Fox’s name, see if he gives it. I keep the question to myself. Baden Hatchett thinks he knows me. He fucking doesn’t. I’m selfish, but not in the way he thinks. Not in the same way as him.

Hatchett only wants to win.

Me? All I want is to live. Me and Fox both.

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[seradyn]

A Dream Come True (Chp. 8)

Chapter 8: No Rest For The Wicked

You didn’t really think the dreams would stop so easily, did you?

Link to work masterlist

Word count: 4011

TW: none

———————————————————————

You jogged up the concrete stairwell, trying in vain to quell the anxiety that infected your bloodstream. Your steps hit the ground hard, reverberating through sturdy bone, the sound magnified by the encroaching walls that surrounded you. You quickly lost count of how far you’d come as you climbed, the stairs stretching endlessly above you. Though it wasn’t long before your legs began to protest, your lungs burning with stale air.

The reason for your nerves was surely long gone by now, yet the memory of his smile haunted you. Ardyn had seen through you so easily, so effortlessly. He read you like an open book, and now that you were fully safe from his influence, you felt violated. It was intimate in a deeply personal way, your bottled up emotions dragged out into the open, kicking and screaming. Your heart and soul lay bare at his feet as he took them for plunder.

You seem a touch nervous, dear. Are you alright?

His voice filled your head, the interactions put on repeat as your pace began to slow. Your calves lit with throbbing pain as the muscle ran out of oxygen, eating away at your flesh to do as you demanded. A soreness was sure to bloom come tomorrow. The steady rhythm of running was replaced by panting, as you stopped on a landing to catch your breath. Your heart pounded in your ears, not used to such vigorous exercise. Your face was flushed, sweat pooling in your armpits. Glancing up, a bold 7 on the wall indicated where you were.

I do hope that medicine helps you. Its helped me in the past, when plagued with unpleasant dreams.

You stumbled over and leaned your back against the cold stone, closing your eyes while you counted out your shaky breaths.

Your brain was filled with every little mistake you made while with Ardyn. It told you what would’ve been better to say, how stupid you’d acted while in his presence. You’d hoped you would be able to escape with your dignity intact, but he shredded it like flimsy paper in his deft hands. You agonized over every word, every phrase that dared leave your tongue.

Care to discuss your own? It may help; I’ve found it rather cathartic.

You’d nearly tripped on your own feet when he dropped that seemingly harmless question on you. It stewed in your lap as you fumbled for a response, spectacularly failing to act casual as you regained your footing. Ardyn mercifully didn’t mention the slip in your demeanor, though you could only guess what he was thinking as his smirk grew almost grotesque.

There was no way. He couldn’t possibly know.

You’d been rude to forcibly say goodbye outside your apartment building, making it clear you’d not go any further with him, since your patience had run thin by that point. Being the gentleman he was, he’d quickly agreed, leaving you with more silky words as he strutted away from you. You’d rushed inside without glancing back, desperate to be away from the effect his presence had on you. Trembling with self doubt, you’d bolted up the stairs, opting to take them instead of the elevator. You were afraid the disquiet Ardyn created would plague you for the rest of the night, wasting all the effort you’d expended to get the drugs now buried in your purse.

Perhaps we shall meet again.

You scoffed, your breathing beginning to relax, the deafening sound of your heart in labor filling the silence.

Like hell you’d bump into each other again. And why would he want to? Surely he felt relieved that he no longer had to babysit this stray puppy of a woman, so nervous and helpless. You’d been lucky to escape without reprimand for disturbing him, and he already mused about meeting again?

Ridiculous.

The air was becoming hard to stomach, the stench of uncleaned bodies and littered garbage funneling down the concrete tube. Unease sufficiently banished, you slowly meandered up the remaining flights, completely exhausted by the time you crested the final ones and reached the tenth floor. Your calves were screaming, and your throat was becoming clogged with mucus.

You pulled open the heavy metal door using the full weight of your body, revealing an empty hallway. The familiar citrus of cleaning supplies tickled your nose. You darted inside, excited to get off the unkempt stairs and into your apartment, your sanctuary. The thrum of blood rushed with the beat of your heart as you made your way to your room, fumbling with the keys before finally pushing the door open. It closed behind you, and you threw your purse on an end table before collapsing onto your couch in a heap.

The cushions welcomed your weary bones, cradling you in a tender embrace. A hum escaped your mouth, content as your exhaustion bounded through you, promising a most deep and peaceful sleep.

So much had happened in the short span of an hour or two.

Part of you still wasn’t convinced it was real.

But you had proof. The bottle of pills that sunk to the bottom of your bag, tucked under old receipts and loose change. It’d made the most annoying sound as you ran upstairs, not allowing you to forget the unexpectedly eventful evening. It was irrefutable evidence of your encounter.

Your face scrunched into a grimace, despising at the flashes of the chancellor parading through your mind. Those eyes that dissected you with surgical precision, that smile that stole your ability to speak. Irritated by his charms, you sat up, snatching your purse off the table, digging into it for the offending item. It rattled in your hand, all too excited to fulfill its purpose. Before you broke the seal, you turned it over, looking for the directions printed in tiny letters on its smooth surface.

Take two by mouth, it said.

Fuck it. I’m taking three.

Standing up on wobbly legs, threatening to give out beneath you, you trudged to your bedroom. The cap on the bottle came off with a soft pop, and you gulped down the amount with quick swallows. You shivered as they slid down your throat, past your gag reflex that threatened to kick in. Your skin rippled with unpleasantness as the last one descended.

Truthfully, you hardly needed them at this point. You barely made it into bed before everything went numb, and you drifted into the delightful void of sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Something made you stir in your comforting veil of darkness. You let out a soft groan, trying to turn away from the probing of your brain, to return to the warm nothingness of bliss. Though you could feel something tugging at you, a grasping child at a chocobo’s inviting feathers, urging you to abandon your precious moment of blankness. You desperately tried to escape its influence, only to have it find you again, exerting pressure on your fragile mind.

With what little strength you could muster, you pushed the thing away, falling back into a dreamless sleep.

But it was not quick to give up. It yanked you from the rest you craved, cursing you with awareness.

The feeling of laying flat on your back, though not on your mattress, was the first thing you were able to sense. Flexing your fingers experimentally, you felt dry dirt catch on your nails, becoming embedded under the cartilage. Your face was warm, touched by sunlight that soon turned the backs of your eyelids red. Blades of what felt like grass brushed your arms, the fibrous caress both soft and sharp. It was unexpected, how lovely it felt, and you wondered how you ended up in such a place to begin with.

Wait…I’m supposed to be asleep right now.

The realization had your eyes popping open, and you sat up fast in a panic. An ethereal shine covered everything like a filter, an unnerving unnatural glow. You whipped your head from side to side, afraid you’d just been thrust into another nightmare.

You soon breathed a sigh of relief, the fear gone in a matter of moments.

An ocean of yellow wheat, kissed by your star while it gently swayed. A tree, nestled into their prickly stocks on your right, branches reaching up and up to touch the wispy clouds. The lazy setting sun, peaking over the horizon in farewell. A clear, blue sky.

Peace.

While you’d hoped you wouldn’t dream at all after taking the pills, you could make an exception for this one. Something about the area, you knew it wouldn’t be defiled by the things you’d come to dread. It wasn’t allowed to be.

Standing on tired legs, you slowly ambled over to the tree, absorbing the familiar serenity as you walked. Your skin was massaged by a gentle breeze, tugging on your clothes, playing with your hair. It smelled of pollen and soil, deep earthy smells. Rather pleasant compared to the car exhaust and smog from city living.

The tree stood proud, though its branches still lacked its life giving leaves. You faintly wondered if it was dead, but the bark seemed healthy, strong and resilient as it absorbed the sun's rays.

You rounded its trunk with eyes drawn down, searching for Ardyn or Aera. They were undoubtedly the reason you were brought here. Though you hadn’t heard their voices as you approached, which made you concerned.

The place where they once nestled together was barren. No sign of their presence was left behind.

You worried for them, remembering their ill fate from the night before. Glancing around, it seemed they were long gone.

Or so you thought.

The hairs on the back of your neck abruptly stood on end…an ancient reaction to being watched.

“So you’ve come to me again…”

You froze.

A deep voice. A familiar voice.

Behind you.

Turning, you took in the sight of Ardyn standing on the edge of the clearing, lips twisted in a smirk. His unharmed appearance was relieving, though his clothes were a bit shocking. He was now dressed in his present day attire, sans the hat he’d worn when you’d first met. His hair bobbed in the wind, left to stick out wildly without his headwear controlling it. His eyes shone with a deep bitterness, the likes of which you hadn’t seen in him before.

His gaze was fixed straight ahead of him.

Straight at you.

“Pray tell, what is the occasion for you to grace me with your presence again?” He sneered tauntingly. It took you aback, how much contempt he could work into his voice. Although his words were kept hushed, as if they weren’t meant to be heard by you. Like he was talking to himself…but his eyes were unmistakably locked on your own.

When you realized what that meant, your heart stopped.

He was talking to you. He was looking at you.

He could see you.

You sucked in a silent breath, soon overcome with turbulent emotions. Everything you’d done in those past dreams, everything you’d felt, everything you’d said, it all came bursting forth in an overwhelming flood. You remembered how his blood had coated the ground in that throne room, how his pores leaked black sludge. The tears that spilled down your face as you screamed for the madness to stop. The times when he cured people, their scourge becoming his with a simple raised hand. The horror, the pain, the guilt. It slammed into you with unstoppable force.

A lump formed in your throat, making it hard to swallow. Hard to breathe.

All you’d wanted to say while with him for that short time in the real world came with it. The desperate want to tell him about the horrible things you saw. The fate he had been bestowed without consent, tearing his life into mangled pieces. It had been so hard to rein in your emotions, to not shower him with affection to counter his suffering. You’d wanted so badly to comfort him during the nightmares, and now…

You had a chance to do just that.

That thought was the final straw that got you moving. The golden field passed in a blur as you ran to him, pent up anger and sadness on his behalf leaking out your eyes. His expression melted away into alarm, and he raised his arms just in time as you barreled into his chest, catching him in a tight embrace. You nearly wailed aloud when you collided with him, ecstatic when you felt the expansion and contraction of his lungs, the rapid beating of his heart, the tensing of his muscles. All confirming that yes, he was really there. You could really touch and hold him.

A soft grunt left him when you slammed into him, the air knocked out of him. His clothes were soft, giving underneath you as they caught the fresh tears that poured from your eyes. Your nails dug into his coat, holding him to you and afraid to let him go. As if doing so would let all those terrible things happen again.

You couldn’t do it, couldn’t watch it again.

More tears escaped, though now from joy or sorrow you couldn’t tell. The happiness at being able to feel him was bright and blinding, but the guilt of leaving him to suffer dulled any sense of excitement you felt.

Really, you were too confused by your own emotions to think clearly.

“I-I’m s-s-s-so s-sorry!” You sobbed, the words you’d once wanted to speak tumbling out in an unorganized mess. “I saw what healing those people was doing to you! I saw it getting worse and worse and I couldn’t stop it! And then you were running from guards and you tripped and I tried to help but I couldn’t! I had to watch as Somnus killed Aera and then he stabbed you and I couldn’t keep you from being locked away in that tower even though I tried! It dragged me away and I could hear you screaming but I couldn’t get to you! I’m sorry! I’m so so sorry!”

You were rambling, you knew, but you couldn’t stop as you covered his shirt in regret and sorrow and guilt.

The clasp on his vest dug grooves into your stomach, but it hardly registered compared to the pain in your chest. Your heart was ripped out again, spiked on the floor to shatter into jagged shards of piercing glass. The wounds from seeing him slain by his brother were still fresh and throbbing. It was an overwhelming pain, the anguish of being too empathetic for your own good. Your nerves buzzed, enraged by what’d been done, only to be quelled by the agony of weakness, of being unable to protect him. Of failure.

Ardyn remained frozen in place, his muscles rigidly stiff where he was pressed against you. He didn’t flinch as you confided in him, and you wondered if he even knew what you were talking about. Though you felt his breathing become uneven, a sharp inhale wheezed through his lips when you spoke the names of his brother and fiancé.

Yet unlike you, he was able to keep himself composed. His arms delicately lowered over your own, caging them around his waist. For the first time since you met, he was so unsure, so reluctant in the way he moved. He shifted awkwardly on his feet while he looked down at you, pondering what to do, puzzled into stillness.

“You…saw?” He whispered, his breath ghosting across the top of your head.

They were the most genuine words you’d heard the modern Ardyn speak.

You quickly nodded, your voice having long since discarded you. Yes, you’d seen what the world had done to him, what the gods had done to him. And all to clean up a mess they themselves created.

Ardyn considered that, letting the silence, save for your crying, spread between the two of you. You soaked up his warmth like a greedy sponge in the meantime, savoring the chance to hold him in this moment of stillness. Perhaps you’d said too much, but you'd let the words out into the open already. You could only hope it brought him some minuscule comfort, knowing someone else understood his pain.

You couldn’t fix what had already happened, but you could cherish him now, in this short little time in the space between life and death. In the realm between fantasy and reality.

He came to some sort of conclusion after a while, and it seemed to be in your favor, whatever it was. He slowly relaxed, letting you better pull him into your chest and smoosh yourself on his frame. He hesitantly raised a hand, deliberating for a second before placing it on your back, the smallest sign of acknowledgment. Your fingers curled even tighter, feeling some of the affection you offered being returned at the gesture.

“Come now,” he hummed, though his tone lacked his usual whimsy. He patted your back to signal he was done having his ribs crushed, but you didn’t budge. A deep sigh parted his lips when you refused to let up. His hand moved, and a gentle pressure soon cupped the base of your skull.

“Enough tears have been shed for me as it were. You need not weep for me.”

You quickly shook your head in denial, feeling worse at hearing him say such a thing. There wasn’t enough crying you could do in a day that would equate to your misery. Your chest was hurting again. Your throat was on fire. Contrary to his reassurance, it only made you want to cry more, even as you continued to snivel and sob into his vest.

When you still stubbornly wouldn't move, he pulled an unexpected trump card.

He leaned forward, his breath warming your scalp. Something nuzzled into your hair, soft and…pointy?

“Come,” he purred, his smooth baritone comforting you. It melted into your skin, easing the turmoil that rolled around your gut. “We should discuss the matter…at length.”

It took a great deal of coaxing on his part to get your grip to loosen, only willing to after he whispered soft reassurances, his gentle hands smoothing over your tight muscles. Your grip began to unravel as you grew emotionally exhausted, tears beginning to dry and heart calming down. You lifted your face from him, his clothes sticking to the salty mess that covered you.

Ardyn delicately lowered his own head further, allowing your foreheads to meet, eyes closing. You gasped quietly, not expecting such a loving gesture from him. You hadn’t thought he would reward you with such intimacy.

You raised a hand, cupping his cheek, rubbing the sharp hairs on his face with your thumb. Another lump bubbled up to your throat, tears threatening to spill again. It was enough to know he was really there, the whisper of breath on your face, the soft tissue of flesh and skin. He’d stiffened up when you touched him, but it was easy to ignore, enjoying the simple wonder of being there with him.

“Darling…” he murmured. “You must tell me…exactly what you saw.”

You remained quiet for a moment, gulping down the last of your loud sniffles. Would it not be better, that he remained unaware of such things? It was all so hurtful…was telling him an imaginary fate injustice? This version of him that could live none the wiser?

You opened your eyes briefly, speckled with water, absorbing the sight of his relaxed face. It encouraged you, assuring that things would be alright.

This was what you’d wanted after all. He deserved to know.

Even if you never got to tell the real him.

So you told him. In as much detail as you could remember, you told him what’d befell him. It was hard to live through some of it again, getting choked up as the visions progressed into that sinister end. At times you thought it almost cruel, to fill his mind with such worry that he could ignorantly live without. Yet the comfort of finally being allowed to tell someone, it was too enticing to stop.

Ardyn leaned back while you spoke, taking your hand from his face and holding it in his. He watched and listened with undivided attention. He expressed great restraint, keeping silent until you were done, reacting in all the right places, holding you when things became difficult. His eyes glazed over in utter contempt when you got to the part with his brother, a scowl coming over him, yet he did not interrupt. It was a different side of him, the one he kept under lock and key. Something he saved only for those he deemed worthy.

A long, tense pause followed the end of your tale. You shuddered, remembering the sickening snap as his leg was crushed in that final vision. You glanced down at the limb, wondering how he could even stand on it. You couldn’t begin to imagine how excruciating it must have been.

“How is it?” You whispered, stepping forward and gesturing at the wound. “Does it still hurt?”

Ardyn slowly peered down at his body, observing the same spot. He clenched his fists at his sides, then haltingly shook his head, waving a hand dismissively.

“It’s no cause for concern.” He looked away, as if embarrassed. “Such things don’t bother me.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. At least the pain had since grown tired of him.

“What I’d like to know,” he mused, fixing you with a golden stare. “Is what this supposed ‘entity’ is that kept you from interfering.”

Ah, so you were both on the same page then. You shook your head, frustrated, for that was what you had the fewest details on. It must’ve been some malicious part of you, some deep insecurity that wished to torment you with nightmares. That was the only thing that made sense. It always stepped in at the worst times. Such cruelty likely stemmed from your inadequacies.

“I’m afraid there’s not much to tell,” you said, abashed. “I never saw or heard anything from it. It must be my own brain, but as for what form it’s taking, I’m not sure.”

Ardyn frowned at that. “Hmmm…” He narrowed his eyes, not entirely believing you. But what else could it be?

“I must say, I am rather surprised…” he trailed off, dropping the subject, looking you up and down. A dark red spread across your cheeks, suddenly feeling put on the spot.

“S-surprised?” You squeaked.

He nodded. “That your visions were so…thorough.”

Oh. You bobbed your head in agreement. “I’m glad they were. I’m glad I got to see your story.”

Even if it was only a fantasy, you left out.

“As am I.”

A comfortable silence settled between you two. Ardyn looked at you with a fondness you found odd, a tender smile upon his lips. Your blush came back, and you failed to fight off your own grin, pleased to have his attention on you in such a way. It was…nice. Soothing.

However short lived it was.

Something pushed on the inside of your skull, a headache spiking through your brainstem. You rubbed your forehead, trying to shake it off, but to no avail. You sighed, growing used to it at this point, knowing you were probably waking up. You watched Ardyn’s mouth move, though no words could be heard from him. You shook your head regretfully, gazing down at the grass under your feet.

You expected to rise back in your room, having slept in far too long. You gasped, eyes going wide, when a voice boomed like nearby explosives, causing the earth to shudder and groan.

“My child…it is time for thee to learn what is at stake, should thee fail at thine task.”

The voice sucked you in, Ardyn and the field disappearing as you were dragged away from him.

———————————————————————

H-hello? Anyone still there?

I hate how long this took to get out. Been having a touch of writers block with this, but I’m starting to iron out some of the problem areas. Some scenes/sequences I know exactly how I want them to go, and others…don’t cooperate.

Sometimes I really like this chapter, sometimes I don’t, but I hope you enjoy regardless. Look forward to future updates, because damn it, I WILL FINISH THIS IF ITS THE LAST THING I DO.

[sundaysundaes]

Whispers

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Smut, Fluff | 5k | Idol AU

Summary: Donghyuck has been busy promoting his new album and no matter how much he misses you, he can’t see you in person due to his schedules. Desperate for your touch, he begins to call you late at night.

Warnings: Phone sex, masturbation (male and female), dirty talk (but is it still called ‘dirty talk’ if Donghyuck is just being honest and saying whatever that comes to his mind?), no plot with a lot of dialogues

The vibration of your iPhone wakes you up from your dream. Being thrown back so suddenly to reality makes you feel slightly lightheaded but it’s all worth it the second you see his name written on your screen. Rubbing your eyes away from sleep, you answer his call, “Hyuck?”

“Hey, Noona.” The airiness of his honeyed voice sounds familiar and pleasant in your ears that it instantly paints a smile on your face. “Did I wake you?”

You refrain yourself from yawning. “Yeah, I fell asleep reading.” Narrowing your eyes irritatedly at the brightness of the fluorescent light hanging on your ceiling, you decide to switch it off and uses the dim glow of the bedside lamp instead.

“What time is it?” He gasps when he notices the time on his screen. “Three AM?! Shit, I didn’t realize it was this late. Sorry.” 

“It’s fine, I shouldn’t be sleeping anyway. I still have to work on my papers, so it’s actually good that you woke me up.” You nuzzle close to the pillow, holding your phone to your ear with one hand, blinking sleepily. “Did you just get back from schedule?”

“Yeah.” He sighs wearily. “I’m dead tired right now. I wish I could just take a day off, you know? I mean, performing is fun, but promoting a new album can be so hectic. I’ve only been sleeping for, like, two hours per day since last week.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” You bring the teddy bear he’d given you on your birthday close to your chest, pretending like you were embracing him. “I wish you could take some days off, too.”

“Yeah?” Somehow, he sounds like he’s smiling. “Then do what?”

“I don’t know, play games, I guess? Or just lie around in bed, doing nothing.”

“I’d rather be doing something, actually.” He chuckles softly, a hint of teasing in his voice. “Or someone.” 

“Gross,” you retort but you can feel your lips curving upwards. “It’s okay if you want to rest, Hyuck. You don’t have to force yourself to call me every day. Your health should be your number one priority.”

“What, you don’t want me to call you?”

You freeze. “Of course I want you to call me. I just—”

“I thought you’d be excited to hear my voice.”

The sudden bitterness in his tone makes you sit up from the bed, eyebrows adjoined in confusion. “What—Hyuck—”

“You know what?” He exhales loudly. “You’re right, I shouldn’t have called. It’s late anyway.“

“Can you please just listen—”

“I’m tired. Let’s just talk tomorrow.”

“But—”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Hyuck—” But you’re only answered by silence when the line gets disconnected. You stare at your phone, eyes wide in disbelief. 

What the hell just happened?

Upset and vexed, you dial his number. You wait with your jaw clenched until he picks up on the fourth ring. “Can’t you listen to me for one second?!” Not sure if it’s because of the drowsiness or exhaustion, but you find yourself shouting even before he says anything. “Of course, I want you to call me, you idiot! It’s the only thing I’ve been waiting all day. Every day, Hyuck, I wait for your call every day. I keep catching myself checking on my phone every ten minutes, waiting for your texts, wanting to call you. I miss you, of course, I miss you—you’re—” You turn stiff when you hear him cackling from the other side of the phone. “Are you laughing?”

“I’m sorry.” His laughter is contagious but you put up your best effort not to get infected. “You’re so cute when you get all riled up. Isn’t it obvious that I was just joking?”

“Right. I’m hanging up.” 

“Wait, Noona—” You listen to him with your eyes throwing ice daggers to the wall. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, I promise.” There’s a small pause where you’re too irritated to talk and he’s too unsure to start but he tries. “So, like… you miss me?”

“Not right now.”

“Aaw, come on, I was just messing around.” You can imagine him puckering his lips, batting his eyelashes for forgiveness. “Please, tell me. Tell me how much you miss me.”

You throw yourself back to the bed, huffing. “I don’t think I want to.”

“You get cuter when you’re angry, you know that?” He sighs to the air. “Aaah… I miss you. I miss you so much, Noona, you don’t even know. Probably more than you miss me.”

I don’t think that’s possible. “Of course,” you reply, holding back a smile from breaking on your face. “Since I only miss you a little bit.”

“A little bit?”

“A tiny, tiny bit. On second thought, maybe I don’t miss you at all.”

“Is that so?” You can tell he’s exhausted by the way he lets out his chuckle, but it doesn’t mean it’s less sincere. “It really has been a while since we last saw each other, hasn’t it?”

You nod to yourself. “Four months.”

“You keep count, huh?” His teasing tone makes you flushed. “Love me that much, do you?”

“Around four months,” you correct him, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible when the truth is, you can practically hear your heart hammering against your ribcages. “Or maybe three? Five? I don’t know.”

“Why are you so cute? Seriously, how can you be this cute?” Donghyuck sits on the edge of his bed, lips forming so widely that it nearly splits his face in half. When his chuckles have receded, his eyes begin to soften. “I love you, Noona. You know that, right?”

People might be thinking about how lucky you are to have a member of one of the most prestigious boybands in the world confessing his love for you at 3 AM, but honestly? You’re just so grateful for the fact that Lee Donghyuck, a boy who stole your heart nearly a decade ago when you were too young to even understand the word love, finally realized that your entire relationship with him was deeper than a mere friendship. It took years for both of you to finally gain enough bravery to act out your feelings, especially when he managed to shine brighter than you could ever imagine being. You were afraid of it—afraid that you would be burnt by his fame, afraid that he would discard you for he had everything and you only had him. But Donghyuck didn’t want anything. He only wanted you.

You love him. You’ve been loving him for as long as you can remember so hearing him say the words, no matter how often he has mentioned it already, still sparks fire through your veins. You’ll never admit that out loud, though.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot these days,” he sheepishly adds. 

“More than you think about yourself?” You snort. “I’m shocked.”

“Eeyyy, I’m serious.” The sound of your giggle makes him sigh, longing to hear it in person. “I wish I could be with you right now. I thought about you a lot during today’s photoshoot too.” He lies down on the bed, running a hand through his hair. “I thought about our last date. About that red dress you wore. Man, you looked so cute in that dress.”

You half-buried your face in the pillow, heat blossoming on your cheeks. “Now this is the topic I like to talk about.”

Donghyuck scrunches up his nose. “Aren’t you gonna say I looked nice too that day?”

Even the slightest thought of him—any version of him, whether it was him dressing handsomely on a date or him waking up in the morning with a bird’s nest on his head—never fails to send butterflies swirling in your stomach, but again, you’ll never admit that out loud. “Meh,” you jeer, even adding a shrug when you know he won’t be able to see. “Could’ve dressed better. I mean, ripped jeans? Really?”

“Yah, yah, yah. You said I looked good wearing those jeans!”

“We were going to a fancy restaurant and I wore a semi-formal dress, Hyuck. They just didn’t match my outfit. They didn’t match anyone’s outfit there, really.”

“Really? You’re gonna say that? Even after you spent the whole night stealing glances at me with drool on your face?”

You wish you could say he was lying, but you indeed spent the entire night drooling at him over the sight of his black leather jacket and the way his jeans just wrapped his thighs so perfectly. “I have lost interest in this topic.” It’s for the best before you combust into flames. “Where are you right now?”

“Back at the dorm.” He softly yawns. “In my room.”

“Alone?”

“Yep, since Johnny-hyung is filming out of town.” When you stay quiet, unsure of what to say, Donghyuck grins mischievously. “Why, do you wanna sneak in? I think I can afford to lose some sleep tonight, if you know what I mean.”

Flustered, you retort, “After Johnny caught us cuddling last time? No way.”

“Yeah, about that,” Donghyuck says a little awkwardly, “After you went home he said to me that he heard the whole thing—”

“What do you mean the whole thing?” The horror in your face and your voice is clear.

“I meant, the whole thing. Us having sex and stuff.”

You could practically feel the exact moment when your soul is leaving your body, but Donghyuck continues as if he’s simply talking about getting caught cheating during a test. “But it’s okay, he’s cool. He’s got my back.”

“Oh my God.” You nearly faint. “I will never show my face in front of your roommate, ever again.”

“Yeah, about that—“

“Are you fucking kidding me, Hyuck—”

“Jaehyun-hyung heard us too.”

“What?!”

“And he told Mark-hyung about it later on, and that’s the reason why I had this bump on my head for three days.” Donghyuck pouts, rubbing the back of his head, lean fingers carding through soft brown locks. “He hit me with a book, lecturing me about bringing you to the dorm as if he never did that himself.”

Not trying to overreact about it, but you’re suffocating by this point. “Why are you so chill about this?!”

“They heard us having sex, not murdering the innocents.” He rolls his eyes but seems amused at your reaction. “To be honest, I hear a lot of stuff happening in our dorm that I’m sure you don’t wanna know. Like, a lot a lot. Way worse than what I did with you.”

“And does Taeyong know about this?”

“Taeyong-hyung needs his beauty sleep so we agreed not to tell him stuff.”

“I feel sorry for him.”

“I just feel sorry he’s not part of our antics.” Donghyuck shrugs, kicking off his shoes and socks before he leans against the headboard. “How about you? Are you alone?”

“Yeah.” You heavily sigh, still feeling quite dizzy after hearing the truth he just blurted out. “My roommate’s gone for the weekend.”

“Oh…” He taps his fingers against his stomach, a weird feeling swirling inside his chest as a thought begins to form. “That’s… great…”

Donghyuck’s tongue lays heavy in his mouth, suddenly loses the ability to form a simple conversation as his mind begins to focus entirely on something else. It all started that one night when he pretended to be asleep, when in fact, he was listening to his roommate, Johnny, speaking to his girlfriend in hushed whispers. The way the older man was chuckling to his phone was suspicious, and the more he tried to listen intently, the more he realized that Johnny wasn’t conversing. He was giving orders with a voice thick with seduction. The sensual words Johnny used made Donghyuck’s ears turn scarlet, and he buried his face deeper behind his blanket. Since then, the curiosity within him has been rising more and more, nearly suffocating him sometimes when he desperately yearned for your touch but his schedule never let him take a goddamn break.

Not knowing the dirty thoughts that flit across his mind, you carry on your conversation like usual. “I guess, but it does get lonely sometimes when she’s not around. I actually like having a roommate.” The sandalwood aroma from your diffuser, combined with his velvety voice, comforts you and you’re finally able to relax. “Have you been eating well? I’ve been craving for strawberry—” 

“What are you wearing?”

“—pancakes—what?”

“I…” Donghyuck heaves out a heavy breath, biting the corner of his lip, unsure yet not ready to give up on his desire. “I just… I was wondering—Are you wearing pajamas?”

“Umm…” The way he asks about it sends heat rising to your cheeks. He doesn’t sound as innocent as the words he uses. You look down, fingers curling at the hemline of your clothes. “I’m wearing one of your shirts, actually.”

Donghyuck throws his head back, eyes tightly shut as he curses silently into the air, his phone pressed against his chest. The sight of you wearing his oversized shirt has been one of his most recurring fantasies and not being able to see you, but knowing that you are wearing his shirt, kills him. 

“Hyuck?”

Donghyuck brings his phone back to his ear. “Sorry, there was a… Mark.” He mentally slaps himself on the head. 

“There was a Mark?”

“I mean, Mark-hyung was here—but he just left so—" 

“Are you drunk again?”

“No!” Donghyuck rubs his temple. This is not going well, he shouts in his mind. “Why—” He winces when he hears his voice crack. Clearing his throat, he tries again. “Why are you wearing my shirt?”

Because it smells like you and it helps me sleep better. “Just because,” you quietly mumble, eyes locked to the ceiling. “Why are you asking me this exactly?”

“Just because,” he mimics. His breathing sounds more prominent as if he’s in the same room, only a few inches away from your ear. It’s the reason why you enjoy talking to him this way instead of taking video calls. You can focus solely on his honeyed voice, almost like a lullaby to your ears. “Can you tell me…” he continues, laced with both hesitation and anticipation, “What else you're wearing?”

“Umm…” You take a deep breath, trying to keep yourself composed. “I don’t think I want to say.”

“Please, Noona.” The sudden desperation in his plead startles you as if he’s losing control of himself, little by little. He seems to notice that too because when he speaks again, it’s steadier, almost formal. “I just… I want to know. If that’s okay.”

“Well…” You curl your toes. “Aside from your shirt, I’m…” Just say it, for God’s sake. He’s your boyfriend. He’s seen you naked. “I’m only wearing my panties.”

There’s a pause that makes your heart thump. “Not, uhh…” Donghyuck wets his lip. “Not even a bra?”

You fiddle with your fingers. “N-no.”

“Fuck.”

You nearly drop your phone. The guttural groan he just emitted from the back of his throat catches you off guard. “Hyuck..?”

“Noona, there’s—” Donghyuck sits up straight, nails nearly sinking to his jean-clad thigh. “There’s something I want to try.” There’s a sense of urgency mixed with minimum self-control. “I-if you don’t mind…”

You know where this is going. “What is it?”

“Just—Just follow my lead, okay?”

You shakily nod your head. When he calls out your name again, you remember that you have to say it in words. “Okay.”

“Can you…” Donghyuck’s heart is beating out of control.  His mind desperately tries to answer how the fuck do I start this?! “Can you, umm, lie down on the bed for me?”

You can tell he’s nervous and it’s both reassuring and endearing to know that he’s never done this with anyone else before and probably not mentally ready to do it with you, but tries to go all the way because he knows both of you need to find a way to release all of these pent-up emotions. 

You follow his order. “I’m…” You take a deep breath so your voice won’t tremble too much. “I’m lying on my bed.”

Donghyuck always takes a few seconds before answering, as if he’s battling inside his head as he tries to sort out his thoughts. “Is your light turned on?”

“Yes.”

“Turn it off.”

You switch off the button on your bedside lamp. “Okay, it’s off.”

“Okay, mine too.” Then all you can hear is his slightly ragged breathing. “It’s… a bit awkward, isn’t it?” He chuckles nervously, followed by an inaudible, “Fuck, why am I so nervous,” as he’s straying away from the phone. 

A smile paints your lips. “You’re adorable.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” 

When silence strikes, Donghyuck scratches his cheek. “Do you… want to know what I’m wearing?”

You gulp. “S-sure.”

“Well…” Donghyuck takes a look at himself. “I’m wearing a denim jacket, a white shirt, a pair of jeans—I just got back from a photoshoot so—”

So he must look good. “Take them off.”

He’s probably as startled as you are when you hear the words tumbling down your mouth. But even if he is as embarrassed as you are, he doesn’t make it as obvious. “Sure.” A rustling sound can be heard, and you let your imagination wander. You can tell he’s taking off his jacket and soon, his shirt will follow. Donghyuck would always take his shirt off by grabbing the fabric from the back and yank it over his head, instead of crossing his arms at his waist. There’s something masculine about it, but you tend to get more distracted at the way his muscles would contract in his lean stomach. His silver necklace would dangle around his neck, and he’d smirk whenever he caught you staring at him for a second too long. 

“My shirt’s off,” he quietly states, snapping you out of your reverie. “Now take yours off—wait! Wait. Leave it on. I want to imagine you wearing my shirt. Just take off your panties.”

“I’m—” It’s so damn hard to focus when you feel so ashamed just by hearing his instructions. “Okay…” Your fingers are quivering when they slide down your stomach, thumb hooking around the hem before you pull your lingerie down to the middle of your thighs.

“Lie down,” he whispers, “Prop a pillow behind your back. Are you comfortable?”

“Y-yeah, just…” You sigh, head going dizzy. “Embarrassed.���

The airy laughter that flows from his mouth is too innocent to be heard in this kind of situation. “So cute. Me too, actually. I’ve never done this before.” When his chuckles have receded, the nervousness grows vivid in his voice once again. “Do you, umm... Do you want to stop?”

You’re supposed to say yes, or at least a bit conflicted about it, so it shocks you when you immediately answer, “No,” without hesitation.

“Thank God.” Donghyuck sighs, smiling softly against the phone. “‘Cause I wouldn’t know what to do if you said yes.” He unbuckles his belt with one hand, taking it off as his heartbeat soars through the roof. “Then, umm… can you spread your legs? As wide as you can.”

You feel so exposed even when no one is looking. Following his guidance, you question, “What about you? What are you doing?”

“I’m…” Donghyuck swallows hard, looking down at the way his hand is pressing against his semi-hardness. “I’m rubbing myself over my pants.”

Fuck, you mentally groan. “Why aren’t you touching yourself directly?”

“Cause I want to wait for you.” He has his eyes closed, hand slipping under the hemline of his jeans, stroking himself over his boxer. “I want to picture you rubbing your fingers on your clit. I want to hear you moan my name when you do.”

Oh my God. “Then guide me,” you plead. There’s something so irresistibly sexy about him touching himself while picturing you pleasuring yourself with your fingers. “Tell me what to do, Hyuck.”

He runs his tongue over his lower lip. The excitement of being able to act as a puppeteer, tugging on your strings, sends all blood rushing south. “Can you push your shirt up? Don’t take it off, just—” He exhales, taking a moment to collect himself after a certain obscene thought of you touching yourself entered his mind. “Just make sure it’s not in the way.”

“Okay.” You grip the hemline of your shirt, pulling it up until it pools above your chest. “Now, what?” 

“I want you to touch your breasts.” You’re more aroused by his breathy voice and lustful tone than embarrassed at this point. “Imagine me, Noona,” Donghyuck whispers, and he sounds so close, as if he’s lying down next to you. “Imagine me with my hands on you, caressing your breasts. Can you do that?”

You squeeze your breast, mumbling out a weak, “Yes…” The memory of Donghyuck, embracing you from behind, his naked chest pressed against your spine, hot mouth lazily pressing wet kisses against your nape suddenly comes alive in your mind. You still remember how sexy he sounded moaning out your name as he rocked his hips forward, his fingers exploring around your chest, rubbing and pinching at a certain spot to make you press closer to him in desperation for more of his touch. 

“Suck on your fingers, make them wet, then bring them back down.” Donghyuck’s hips are bucking against his hand, his fingers tugging his zipper down. “Imagine my mouth latching on your nipple, sucking it the way I always do. The way you like me to do.” 

You bring your fingers to your mouth, coating two of them with saliva before you bring them back down to pinch your sensitive bud. With your eyes closed and his heavy breathing in your ear, the wet sensation of your fingers gives you a clear image of his tongue flicking against your nub. 

“Tell me how you feel.”

“It’s not enough,” you croak out, “I want to feel you directly on my skin.”

Donghyuck takes a sharp breath. “You don’t even know how much I want to be there and touch you.” The way his voice suddenly becomes deep sends shivers down your spine. “I want to suck bruises on your skin. I want to mark you everywhere, again and again, so the bruises will last for days. I want you to remember me every time you see yourself in the mirror.”

You sheepishly smile, though your heart is still racing. “I always remember you even without that, Haechannie.”

The sudden change of his name warms his heart. “I wish you’re the only one who calls me that. You make my stage name sounds better, special. I could have thousands of people screaming my name but none of them makes me feel the way you do.” As he slides his hand under his boxer, finally making direct contact with his skin, Donghyuck becomes desperate once again. “Bring your other hand down. I want you to touch yourself, Noona, please.”

You slide your hand between your legs, tentatively rubbing yourself between your folds. “Hyuck…”

“Does it feel good?”

You nod, eyes shut, and your mind wanders. “Yes…”

“Rub your clit for me. And imagine I’m doing that with my tongue.”

You can picture him with his head between your legs so perfectly behind your closed eyelids. He has done it several times and you remember how he would always start slow, placing open-mouthed kisses on the inner part of your thigh before dipping his head down and swipe his tongue along your folds—all the while never breaking eye-contact. He would press a kiss against your clit, and lick you slowly because he’d want you to beg for it. He never directly told you but you could tell he liked being in control because the second you whispered “Please, Hyuck,” he would immediately indulge you with everything you wanted and more. 

Donghyuck would suck hard on your clit, doing it so suddenly that you’d nearly crush him by wrapping your legs too tightly around his head. Amazed and delighted by your reaction, he would break into a smile with his tongue still darting out to taste you, mouth pressing harder against your skin until he plunged his tongue inside your heat.

You moan out his name at the memory, directly to the phone.

“Fuck, baby, you sound so perfect…” Donghyuck nearly whimpers and the word baby stirs something within you as he never called you that before.

“Call me like that again…” You rub yourself harder on the spot you like the most. “Please, Hyuck…”

“Baby…” Donghyuck’s fingers are curling harder around his length, pumping himself in accordance to every gasp and moan you’re emitting. “I wish I could see you—I wish I could lock my eyes with yours as I eat you up. I want to see your face, every single expression you make—I bet you look so cute, so goddamn... erotic.”

Your hold around your phone loosens but fortunately for you, the pillow pressing against it keeps it close to your ear. “Touch yourself,” you breathily murmurs, “I want you to touch yourself too.”

“I am, baby,” Donghyuck softly moans, his fingers tightening around his length. “What else do you want me to do?”

“I want you to stroke yourself harder and run your thumb over your slit.” Donghyuck zealously follows, cursing under his breath at the pleasure. “And I want you to keep doing it until my name escapes your lips.”

“God, I want you.” He repeats your name over and over again, as ordered, with him stroking himself faster each time. “Noona, I want your mouth on me. I want to see you hollow your cheeks around me—like how you did to me when we were backstage, that time after the concert. You looked so pretty that night, so eager—so desperate for me—”

“Me too. I want to make you feel good too. I—” You nip at your bottom lip, feeling goosebumps creeping up your skin when he moans out your name. You’ve always loved his voice, loved it more than anything else in the world, and the sounds he makes when he’s in bed with you is the sexiest thing that even your poor mind can’t even begin to imagine. And now, focusing solely on his voice, listening to his filthy, sinful words, he’s driving you to the edge of your sanity.

“I’ve touched myself before at the thought of you,” he confesses breathlessly, “Several times, even way before we started dating.”

You’re trembling at the thought. “Haechannie—”

“You don’t know just how much—” The sound of him trying to stifle down a moan only makes you crave for him more. “—how much I wanted you back then. How much I want you now. Even during high school, I just—I wanted you—wanted to touch you—wanted—ah fuck,” a whine slipped out his lips, “Wanted to hold you so bad, to make love to you until—”

At the rustling sounds, him whimpering at his touches, and you rubbing yourself on the perfect spot, you know you won’t last long. “H-Hyuck, are you close?”

“Just a little bit more, Noona, ah—” He thrashes his head against the pillow, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallows hard. “Fuck, I need to be inside you. I need to feel you clenching your walls around me.” At the memory of you gazing at him with anticipation building inside your seductive, half-lidded eyes, as you parted your legs to give him permission to ravish you the way he wanted, Donghyuck quickens the pace, thrusting vigorously into his hand. “Fuck yourself with your fingers, baby, please.”

You’re more than keen to follow, inserting one digit inside your heat with another one following soon after. You can visualize him bringing your legs in the air until they dangle over his shoulders, his hips slamming hard against yours with each thrust. “Hyuck—”

“If you were here right now,” he nearly growls, “I would fuck you so hard until you’re mewling my name against the sheets. And I won’t stop, I won’t stop even if you beg me to. I won’t stop until I’m done with you.”

Donghyuck doesn’t sound like he’s trying to dirty talk which only makes it even more arousing to your ear. It’s as if he’s losing control of his mouth, just saying anything that comes to mind. The honesty, the urgency, his breathy, desperate calls of your name between lewd words—

You choke out a sob. “Hyuck—I’m close—”

“Me too—N-noona—Kiss me—”

It’s one of the most intense orgasms you’ve ever felt and it’s funny because you never really enjoyed touching yourself before. Donghyuck follows a few seconds after, moaning your name so erotically that will probably give you a hard time falling asleep for days at the thought of it. You’re left dazed, staring at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes. Your phone lays forgotten on the pillow next to you. Mustering all the strength you have left, you reach out for it. “Hyuck…?”

You can hear him breathing heavily. “I’m here,” he says. “Are you okay? Did you get to come?”

“Y-yes.” Now that it’s over, you begin to feel self-conscious again and the heat that blooms on your cheeks nearly wash every bit of your orgasm away in an instant. “Did you?”

“I made a huge mess.” He chuckles, sounding just as embarrassed as you are. “Fuck, didn’t realize it was going to be this good when we started. What would’ve happened if we had Face-Timed each other instead?”

Your head nearly explodes at the thought. “One step at a time, Hyuck. I’m practically dying from shame right now.”

He laughs a little at that. “So, you don’t really oppose the idea? Man, I have something to look forward to then.”

“Shut up, you’re gross. Is this the reason you called me?”

“No,” he hastily says, “I swear, I called because I missed hearing your voice.” Then he thinks about it again. “Well, I mean, I have been thinking about doing, uhh, these kinds of things with you but trust me, it wasn’t the reason why I called.”

“Sure,” you flatly reply, teasing him.

“Yah, yah, yah, it’s your fault for saying that you were wearing nothing but my shirt!”

“It’s your fault for asking me what I was wearing!”

It’s always like this with him. You’re bickering at one point, having sex at another time, then goes back to bickering once again. But it’s endearing, you suppose, because after this, you’ll be murmuring loving words, and just when you begin to think about it, Donghyuck whispers into the phone.

“I love you, Noona. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

And you smile. “I love you too, Haechannie. You’re the second best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“What the hell is the first one?”

“Chicken nuggets.”

“You’re so dead.”

***

[toomanyfandomssss]

His Girl - Five

Violet stood to the side as she watch Bellamy and Murphy target practicing. Murphy's knife fell to the ground after he failed to get it to stick in the tree.

"It's that damn kid always messing with my head," the dark haired boy said making the Violet roll her eyes and mutter a small "Sure" under her breath.

"He's not gonna last much longer, better start thinking of a new excuse," Bellamy slightly mocked before winding his arm back and throwing his axe hard enough for it to instill into the tree. Violet shamelessly admired how sexy the man looked. "That's how it's done" he said, voice full of arrogance.

Atom and another kid walked towards the three, "We searched a half-mile all directions. No sign of Trina or Pascal."

"Visit your special tree when you were out there?" Murphy teased making Violet tilt her head in confusion.

"Atom took his punishment. Let it go," Bellamy ordered.

"Bell what punishment? What did he do?" Violet asked, completely confused about what the hell was going on.

"Its nothing Vi, we'll talk about it later," the boy replied making her huff in annoyance. Noticing this, Bellamy walked over to her and wrapped his arm around her waist pulling her into him. "I promise baby," he whispered in her ear sending a shiver down her spine and making her skin flush. He smirked and kissed her cheek, turning his attention back to Atom who started talking again.

"Could be grounders," he suggested.

Murphy of course took a chance to continue his teasing, "Yeah, or they could be in pound town. Lot of that going on recently," he smirked.

Ignoring Murphy, Atom continued "Look, Bellamy people are scared," he gestured to the loud moaning of the boy in the drop ship, "And that dying kid he's not helping the morale around here."

"Morale will go up when I find them more food," Bellamy reassured.

The other boy spoke up, "And what do we say when they ask about Trina and Pascal?"

"For now? Nothing. Its possible they're just lost. We'll keep an eye out for them when we go hunting later."

Murphy had his eyes on the drop ship, "Lets go kill something."

Stopping him from walking any further Bellamy responded, "You're not going. I need you to stay here. If the grounders are circling we can't leave this place unprotected.

Murphy nodded, "Fine. Somebody better tell goggle boy to keep it shut." Violet watched him fail again at getting his knife in the tree before making her way to the drop ship.

✶✶✶

Violet followed Wells up the ladder hearing Monty say, "That would be a firm no." Immediately going to Jasper's side she looked down at the poor boy.

Clarke sighed, "My mother would know what to do."

"How's he doing?" Wells asked making the blonde immediately snap at him.

"How does it look like he's doing Wells?" she glared up at him.

"I'm just trying to help," he defended himself.

Violet and Finn glanced at each other noting the awkward tension between the two.

Clarke spoke up, "You wanna help? Hold him down." she motioned to Jasper.

Violet, Finn and Wells all did as told. Monty looked at Clarke worriedly, "I'm not gonna like this am I?"

✶✶✶

Violet, Monty, Finn,  and Wells, were all holding a screaming Jasper down as Clarke tried to heal his wound.

"Hold him still! I need to cut away the infected flesh," Clarke yelled.

The door opened revealing an exasperated Octavia yelling "Stop it!" "You're killing him!" the tan girl said kneeling next to the boy.

"She's trying to save his life," Finn reassured the girl.

Unfortunately Bellamy had followed his sister to the room, "She can't"

Wells stood up and faced Bellamy, "Back off"

Clarke huffed, "We didn't drag him through miles of woods just to let him die."

"Kid's a goner. If you can't see that you're deluded." Bellamy so sweetly pointed out. "He's making people crazy."

"Sorry if Jasper's an inconvenience to you, but this isn't the ark. Down here every life matters."

"Take a look at him. He's a lost cause," the curly haired boy replied making his girlfriend scoff.

The room was silent for a moment before Clarke turned to Octavia. "Octavia, I've spent my whole life watching my mother heal people, if I say there's hope there's hope." Clarke tried to reassure the girl but was interrupted by the hot headed boy once more.

"This isn't about hope. Its about guts. You don't have the guts to make the hard choices. I do. He's been like this for three days, if he's not better by tomorrow, I'll kill him myself." He went towards the latter before turning back again, "Octavia, Vi, let's go."

His sister didn't even turn to look at him, "I'm staying here." The boy turned to his girlfriend with a raised brow. All she did was give him a disgusted look before turning back to the group, refusing to acknowledge him any more than that. Bellamy's face softened for a moment before nodding in understanding and distending down the ladder.

Monty interrupted the silence, "Power hungry, self serving, jackass. He doesn't care about anyone but himself." He glanced at Octavia and Violet, "No offence" Octavia just shook her head while Violet mumbled a "You're not wrong."

Finn agreed, "Yeah Bellamy is all that, but he also happens to be right."

✶✶✶

Violet caught up to Bellamy right before he left. "You're not killing him."

"Sweetheart-"

"Kill him and you lose me," with that she turned her back and walked away from him.

Bellamy's heart felt like it stopped when she spoke those words. The last thing he ever wanted was to lose his sister or his girl.

✶✶✶

The remaining criminals including Violet all made their way to the drop ship in a hurry.

"What's going on?" Monty asked a random girl.

"The air got thick everybody's skin started burning."

Octavia looked at the boy worriedly, "Monty my brothers out there."

"He'll be fine. We'll all be fine," he reassured her.

Violet came and sat down next to Octavia. "He's right O. Bellamy will be fine. He'll find shelter," the girl also tried to reassure her friend while putting her arms around her for a brief moment. Octavia nodded gratefully and hugged her back, happy that while the safety of her brother is unknown, she does know that her best friend is safe right next to her.

✶✶✶

Bellamy had been asleep in a cave taking shelter from the fog when a scream woke him up. "No!" the 12 year old Charlotte screamed in her sleep.

"Charlotte, wake up." Bellamy shook the girl.

"I'm sorry," she whined.

He ignored the apology instead asking, "Does it happen often?" The girl sighed in reply. "What are you scared of?" Getting no response he continues, "You know what? It doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is what you do about it."

"But...I'm asleep," Charlotte says confused.

Bellamy explained, "Fears are fears. Slay your demons when you're awake, they won't be there to get you when you sleep."

Still confused she asks, "Yeah, but...how?

"You can't afford to be weak. Down here, weakness is death, fear is death." He continued, "Let me see that knife I gave you." Doing as told she held up the knife she was given.

Bellamy took it from her and held it up, "Now when you feel afraid you hold tight to that knife and say, 'Screw you. I'm not afraid.'" He handed the knife back to her.

Taking his advice, Charlotte help up the knife and quietly said, "Screw you. I'm not afraid." Bellamy gave her a look that said, you can do better than that. She said once more, this time with much more confidence, "Screw you. I'm not afraid." Bellamy smiled approvingly. "Slay your demons kid. Then you'll be able to sleep."

He had sat back against the cave wall when the girl spoke up again. "Can you tell me a story to help me fall asleep?"

He thought for a moment before replying, "Like what?"

"Tell me how you met Violet."

[olivinesea]

quítate ese miedo

a/n: Happy new years to yall. I’m sorry I’ve been so utterly delinquent with putting out stories (which I imagine that’s generally what you are here for? I don’t have anything else to offer). My big hope for me this year is to write more, so here we go. No warnings. It’s nice, I swear. ~4.7k

Haley gets her license. They go for a drive.

“I got it!”

Aaron looked up from his geometry book that he’d been frowning over for the last forty-five minutes to find Haley standing in the entryway, blue eyes shining and cheeks flushed. Wisps of hair had begun to fall out of her high ponytail, softening the severity of her outfit. Jessica had made fun of her that morning as she left the house for her driver’s test wearing a navy blue blazer and pointed flats she’d borrowed from their mother. Haley had wanted to look professional and mature but Jessica insisted that nothing could hide her teenage acne and obvious need for braces. Haley had screeched, swinging her bag at her older sister while the other girl laughed and skipped backward.

Aaron, standing at the sink cleaning up breakfast, had only just managed to keep hold of the plate he’d been scrubbing. He’d rolled his shoulders, attempting to mask the way he’d jumped at the loud sound but they were so caught up with one another, neither had noticed. He often found himself fighting the urge to shrink into himself at the sharp, sudden chaos of their semi-friendly sibling teasing. Despite having lived there for nearly two months now, he could never understand the way their relationship rolled so easily from sweetness to bitter argument and back again so smoothly, as if neither held a memory longer than a few minutes. No matter how loudly they screamed at each other, it was never long before they were smiling and joking together. It made Aaron dizzy.

Now Haley was back, a triumphant freshly minted legal driver, sixteen years old and ready to terrorize the roads. Aaron couldn’t help smiling, infected by her excitement. It was one of the most confusing but also wonderful things about her. The way she made life seem open, like the possibilities were endless and he had every right to take part in it. She never questioned his presence or made him feel like he was a darkness creeping at the edges of her happiness (as he knew himself to be). Even though he was only a stray that had slunk into their home, she made sure he was included as part of the family.

“Come on,” she insisted, flipping his math book closed with one hand and waving the keys with the other. “It’s time to go.”

He didn’t know where she had in mind and doubted she did either but he was more than willing to follow. “Just give me a second,” he murmured, organizing his supplies, making sure no stray pencil or eraser shaving would be left behind leaving a trail of his existence. Impatient, Haley spun away, kicking off the shoes that had been pinching her toes all morning and running up the stairs, yelling her sister’s name, gleefully boasting of her accomplishment. Aaron could hear their voices muffled through the ceiling, could hear the occasional floorboard creak as Haley darted around her room. He chewed his lip and shook his head, trying to clear the tension that crept upon him automatically as he strained to hear signs of danger in the half-heard syllables, his instinct to run based on the weight behind each footfall.

He’d had to relearn what different sounds meant in this house, had needed to repeatedly tell himself to relax, that not every shriek was a reason to cower, not every crash was followed by pain. He’d been too nervous, too overwhelmed at first to even realize what he was doing, freezing to listen with every muscle, preparing for the unimaginable. One day he noticed Mrs. Brooks watching him, noticed the distress, the worry in her expression at his reactions. It made him sick to his stomach, bile rising up the back of his throat at the realization she both understood and was disturbed by his behavior. He’d made a concentrated effort to stop after that. Gritting his teeth and breathing through his nose, he forced himself to keep moving through whatever task he’d been occupied with, chopping carrots, pouring a glass of water, reading a book.

His nerves begged him not to, sent signal after signal that he should get out of there immediately. The worst was always when Roy came home, booming voice loud enough to make the picture frames stutter on the walls. He’d bring treats, some little gift the girls would pounce on. Instead of withdrawing to a small, dark space where he could close his eyes and count his breaths until the adrenaline spike of fear had passed, he would stand his ground, would smile though it exhausted him. He told himself he would get better with practice, would have to because he owed it to them. He owed this family more than he could give them, the least he could do would be to act as a happy participant in their raucous joys. He wouldn’t take away from their contentment with his embarrassing reflexive behaviors, reminders of how different, how damaged he was. Reminders of the risk they’d welcomed into their lives.

By the time he’d gotten organized and pulled on his shoes, Haley skipped back down the stairs, changed into a more relaxed outfit of sneakers and a sundress. Aaron worried a frayed thread in the cuff of his sweater. He hadn’t yet eased out of his habit of wearing long sleeves regardless of the weather. There was no longer a need for it but it was a familiarity he held onto in the strange new reality of the Brooks home. Besides it wasn’t that warm yet anyway. Haley’s look was more about optimism than warmth, a birthday wish for sunny afternoons with nowhere important to be.

As if hearing his thoughts, she shrugged into her jean jacket, shaking her hair loose from its ponytail with one hand. Aaron stared at the way she moved, confident and careless. He could have felt jealousy, once would have had a fierce bitterness about this evidence of the stark differences in their lives. But with Haley that anger rarely seemed to appear, only an amazement that he should be so lucky to be allowed to be so close. That of all people, after all he’d done, he was the one she chose to bring along with her.

“You okay?” she raised an eyebrow at the intensity of his expression. She was used to people looking at her but she could never fully read him. The sharp features of his face gave away so little insight to the tone of his thoughts.

He remembered to smile and stood up. “Of course,” he gestured toward the door, “After you.”

There was a shout from above as they climbed into the car, Roy’s mustard colored Buick on loan for the special day. When they looked up, Jess was half hanging out the bedroom window, flipping them off with a smirk. Haley laughed and stuck her tongue out, flipping her sunglasses down onto her nose. Aaron ducked his head, unsure of the correct way to respond. His hair fell forward into his eyes as he focused on getting his unreasonably long limbs sorted into the passenger seat. Both settled, Haley backed them slowly into the road. Now that she was driving her high energy was moderated as she focused intently on each element like she was running down a checklist. Her movements were a little stiff despite having no trouble passing her test. This drive felt different, just the two of them, no parents, no teachers. Not even her older sister to needle her with patronizing tips. The newness of the experience crackled around her like static electricity, made her cautious, almost shy.

They navigated through the neighborhood streets, dotted with families washing cars in driveways, kids playing on lawns. The shadows from the leaves threw patterns across the dashboard, the sunlight flickering through the new growth of flower buds just beginning to emerge. Haley kept carefully to the speed limit as they silently wound farther away from the house. She became more confident with each turn, gear shifts becoming more natural, more automatic.

When they reached the main road she turned north, the wide lanes leading them away from the center of town. Haley rolled her window down and turned the music up too loud on the stereo. His fingers twitched with a desire to lower it but she wrapped her hand around the back of his.

“It’s fine!” she grinned at him, her teeth and the teal frames of her sunglasses sparkling.

He rolled his eyes, sighing as he leaned his head back against the seat. “Keep your eyes on the road,” he muttered, not upset but tense with the speed at which the buildings blurred past.

She squeezed his hand. “Okay, dad,” she teased wickedly.

“Ugh!” He pulled his hand away and ran it through his hair, making the already disorganized mess stick out strangely.

She only laughed and drove faster, completely comfortable now. Soon they were out of town entirely, the road becoming a two lane highway. Haley shouted along to the radio, something a little too exuberant to be considered singing but not unpleasant. Aaron felt himself unwind the further they got from the orderly buildings, the sidewalks and the streetlights. Out here, with the hills rolling into mountains in the distance, he didn’t have to be so guarded, didn’t have to try so hard to appear like he belonged. The song changed, something softer and older that he recognized. His mother liked this song, he thought. He had an incomplete memory of her holding his hands, small and childish, as she sang to him. He hummed along without realizing it. Haley noticed but didn’t say anything, just pleased that he seemed content.

They drove for awhile, aimless and unconcerned with when or where they were going, time nothing more substantial than the breeze flowing through the open windows. After passing through the next few towns, Haley turned off the highway to follow along less traveled backroads. She made left and right turns at whim, confident that she’d be able to find her way back to the main road when she felt like it. She’d lived here all her life, the landscape was enough of a map to get her back home when needed.

The drive lulled Aaron into a sort of reverie, the pale greens and golds melting into a canvas for his memories. He’d had too much time to think recently, no longer having to devote so much energy to survival, to avoiding trouble both earned and unearned. He found himself reviewing his memories in detail, examining them for clues about himself, about his family. Despite how kind the Brooks had been to him, how much they insisted he stay as long as he liked, he knew he’d have to return home at some point. When he did, he hoped to do so with a better understanding, some sort of knowledge that would help him. Because, despite everything, despite how badly they’d all behaved, he couldn’t help loving them.

Even his father, the man who had mistreated him since he was too small to understand—he found he couldn’t quite hate him. Not completely. He was angry and resentful but he couldn’t shake the desire for his approval, for his love, whatever that might look like. This prickled him, making him feel crazy and illogical. Made him doubt his worst memories. Surely if those parts were true he’d want nothing do do with the man. Maybe he was only being dramatic, giving more weight to things than he should. Every family had their arguments, surely his couldn’t be so much worse than any other. Surely if he loved them, he could do something to fix it.

These thoughts were a well worn spiral in his mind, one he was unable to think through to a clear end. So he’d taken to hunting his memory for objective facts. A pointless exercise, anyone could have told him memories are the last place to find such a thing. But he was still too young to realize that so he kept trying, pulling out details, making careful lists as if his life were some sort of scale that could be balanced, as if enough weight on one side or the other could point him to a solution.

A hand on his knee made him recoil hard enough to knock his shoulder against the door.

“Sorry! I’m so sorry,” the car slowed as Haley stumbled through an apology. “I was trying to get your attention but I think you fell asleep?”

Aaron grasped at the excuse, grateful that she’d suggested such a normal reason for his reaction. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, leaning into the role of someone normal, someone who’d only dozed off and been startled. He almost yawned before deciding that would be selling it a little too hard. “Mm, yeah, I think I did. Sorry about that.”

She glanced at him but seemed to decide she didn’t need to worry further. “You hungry? I’m hungry.”

He shrugged, he was always hungry but it wasn’t a sensation he paid much attention to. “Sure.” He looked outside with more awareness. “Where are we?”

“Not sure exactly.”

He raised his eyebrows at her but she didn’t sound concerned.

“Pretty sure the highway is a couple miles that way,” she pointed out the window. “I think we’re only an hour or so away from home.”

“How is that possible?” He looked at the clock, trying to count backwards and calculate distance.

“I’ve been making a lot of loops. Haven’t you been looking out the window this whole time?” she sounded amused but also a little horrified. She could feel direction like the sinew in her body and it seemed unthinkable that he didn’t have his own internal compass.

“I guess I was asleep for longer than I thought.” He hoped the excuse was good enough to cover this deficiency as well.

As it turned out, Haley got them back to the highway quickly and a milage sign told them they were in fact only forty miles from their town. They decided to drive straight back and get burgers at Haley’s favorite place downtown. The spell on his thoughts broken, Aaron did his best to pay attention to his surroundings, to make conversation with Haley. She was easy to talk with, happy to chatter about a variety of topics, all he had to do was ask a question here and there. By the time they’d made it back she’d covered upcoming auditions for the spring musical, the lack of options for girls’ sports teams, her babysitting clients recent antics and, a favorite, her ongoing plot to convince her mother to allow her to get a kitten. Mrs. Brooks insisted cats, like all animals, were fine outside but not meant to live in the house, certainly not her house.

“I mean, it’s perfect, it’s my birthday. She has to say yes, obviously. Right?” Haley pulled into the parking lot of the burger shack as she finished laying out her plan.

Aaron agreed even though this logic sounded faulty to him. But what did he know about the effects of birthdays on pet negotiations? There were no pets and no birthdays in the Hotchner household. He was more focused on trying to surreptitiously count the money he had in his pocket, unsure he’d have enough. He’d been working at Roy’s store on Sundays since he’d been back but he didn’t make that much and was trying to save what he could. He figured he could probably get away with just some fries, he wasn’t that hungry really.

Annoyingly, Haley had other ideas. She ordered two of everything and paid, all while pointedly ignoring him. When they sat down at the outdoor picnic tables he tried to hand her money for his meal but she waved her hand.

“It’s my birthday.”

He frowned. “Doesn’t that mean I should be paying for you?”

She kicked him lightly. “No, it means you have to do what I say and not complain.”

He groaned but put his money away. Haley was too frustrating to argue with when she’d made a decision. The food appeared quickly, two cheeseburgers, fries and two milkshakes—one strawberry, one chocolate. Everything was delicious and he was hungrier than he’d thought. It was silent while they ate, too fixated on the different moving parts. Looking up, they both laughed when they saw how they’d devoured their meals.

“I’m so full,” Haley complained dramatically. “I can’t move.”

Aaron laid back on the bench, stretching out in the sunlight to make more room in his stomach. “Me too. I think I might pass out.”

Haley checked her watch. “Ugh, we should head back though. My dad will be home soon. He said he was bringing a surprise.”

“Mm,” Aaron’s response was noncommittal and muffled by the arm he was using to block the light from his eyes. He had far too much salt and sugar in his veins to react further.

“Do you want to drive?”

That caught his attention. He pushed himself up to lean on his elbows. “What?”

“Do you want to drive? You’re probably bored of just being the passenger. I mean, we’re basically home anyway.”

“I don’t know…”

“You’ve driven before, haven’t you? It’ll be fun.”

“Haley, I—“

“It’s my birthday,” she said, as if that was the ultimate trump card. “Besides, you’ve been in the car for all my lessons, I’m sure you’re better than me anyway.”

Aaron couldn’t resist the temptation, her excitement was always so contagious. He had spent countless hours in the backseat as Roy coached Haley through her first outings on the road. He thought maybe he had paid enough attention, absorbed enough to get by. It really didn’t look that complicated. He smiled a little as the idea pulsed in his fingertips, already imagining the way it would feel to be in the driver’s seat. “Okay.”

Haley clapped her hands together, pleased to be getting her way and, even more so, to see the spark of adventure in his eye. He’d been so tame, so subdued since returning, she sometimes worried he was drifting away. Like he was afraid to express interest in things, afraid to have fun. But Haley Brooks was an expert at fun and highly determined. This was a brilliant idea, she was sure of it.

It started out smoothly enough. Aaron got them out of the parking lot and onto the road. They were less than a mile from home, just one major intersection and then half a dozen turns through the neighborhood. Despite their initial exuberance, they fell into an anxious silence as Aaron concentrated all his attention on operating the gear shift. Haley gave him quiet reassurances as they changed lanes and got through the light turning into the neighborhood. Aaron relaxed his grip on the wheel, the white skin around his knuckles darkening with the return of normal circulation.

Haley made a joke about his granny-level caution as they stopped at an intersection and he markedly looked left then right then left again. Aaron started to laugh, nerves making her idle effort seem funnier than it was. He started to drive forward again when a movement blurred the corner of his vision. He slammed on the breaks before realizing there was someone right behind him. The other driver swerved around him, honking and waving an angry gesture in their direction. Aaron’s breath caught as he tried to shift the car back into gear but it stalled out.

“It’s okay,” Haley tried to keep them both calm but Aaron’s regret for ever agreeing to this, his acute awareness that this stupid idea was going to get him in far more trouble than it was worth, was overtaking his rational control. He stomped on the pedals a little too hard, face hot with embarrassment. Too many moments later the car responded, lurching forward unexpectedly. Aaron had been scowling at the gears and instinctively jerked the wheel to the side, imagining something had materialized in front of the car. He felt certain he was about to run some child over with this giant machine he should never have touched.

The sharp change in direction brought them directly into contact with a signpost. The jolt and shattering of glass echoed through both of them like a broken bone. Defeated, Aaron simply pulled up the brake and turned off the car. He couldn’t look at Haley, didn’t think he could handle the disgust he imagined he’d find there. After a moment, his ears cleared of the horrible crunch and he could hear Haley trying to talk to him.

“It’s okay, it’s fine. I don’t think it’s that bad, Aaron, honestly.” Her voice was quiet and if she hadn’t said his name he wouldn’t have known she was talking to him.

He wanted to apologize but he couldn’t make any sound come out, the weight in his chest was too heavy, crushing him so he could barely breathe.

“Let’s just get home, okay. We can deal with it there.”

When Aaron didn’t move she got out of the car, wincing as she saw the broken headlight, before going to open the driver’s door. She had to repeat his name twice to get him to look away from the splintered signpost. He managed to get himself out of the car, walking like a zombie to the passenger side. For the last few blocks he stared straight ahead, counting all the things this mistake would take from him. Haley parked carefully in the driveway and looked over at Aaron, upset by the way his lips had gone pale.

“I’ll just say it was my fault,” she offered.

“What? No! Why would you do that?” he was horrified by this idea.

“I mean,” she traced her finger along the steering wheel, “It was my fault. It was my idea, I shouldn’t have…”

Aaron shook his head so hard she worried about his brain. “No.” His voice was clipped and she realized he was angry. She rarely saw him angry and reflected on how strange that was. If she’d had to experience everything he’d gone through she’d be angry all the time, she was sure. Before she could think about it further he was out of the car, examining the damaged glass. He picked off a loose piece that had been hanging at an angle, pressing it between his thumb and finger. He looked up when she came to stand next to him.

“I will fix this,” he said, eyes hard. “It was my fault.”

There was no point in arguing with him, so she only nodded and followed him inside to wait for her dad to get home.

They sat beside each other on the couch, close but not touching. Haley slouched forward, elbows on her knees, resting her chin in her hand while she wrapped and unwrapped a strand of hair around a finger. Aaron sat up, so tense he nearly shook with it, digging his nails into the skin on his arms to keep from running. Haley noticed and reached out, entwining her fingers through his, smoothing the dents in his skin with soft fingertips.

By the time Roy got home half an hour later, Aaron was certain he was going to throw up. Roy walked in as loud as ever, calling brightly for Haley before he’d cleared the front door. When he got to the living room however, he saw how somber they were and frowned. “What’s all this now?”

Haley took a deep breath. “Okay, don’t be mad but—“

Aaron pulled his hand away from hers and shook his head, stopping her before she could start admitting to faults that weren’t hers. Roy looked expectantly at Aaron who felt his face get warm but began talking. He kept his gaze on the floor beyond Roy’s left shoulder. “I crashed your car sir. It was my fault. I made Haley let me drive….” He started to ramble, not sure exactly what he was saying, just trying to at least get Haley out of trouble, spare her whatever anger would come of this. Maybe if he talked enough Roy would forget Haley is involved at all, would focus his inevitable fury entirely on the ungrateful nuisance in front of him.

Roy sat in a chair opposite them, watching Aaron curiously as the boy continued spinning out a litany of reasons he should take the sole blame, of all the things he will do to repay Roy for the damage he’d caused. Finally he held up a hand to get Aaron to stop talking. He rubbed his chin and frowned but with an expression that wasn’t anger.

“You don’t know how to drive?”

Aaron was taken aback both by the question and the calmness with which it was asked. He swallowed. “No, sir.”

“How old are you?”
 “Seventeen.”

Roy squinted at him. “Why didn’t you say so before?”

“What?” Aaron was too confused to stop the impolite reaction from slipping out. He shuddered when he heard how it sounded, the open challenge in his tone.

“That you couldn’t drive. You could have practiced with Haley.”

Aaron blinked, unsure how to respond. “I…I’m sorry?”

Roy ignored him, only stood up, shaking his head and muttering too quietly for them to hear more than a word or two. Aaron was certain he caught the word Hotchner and possibly some swearing but it didn’t seem directed at him. Roy went back out the front door and they followed. They remain a cautious distance back as he examined the broken headlight.

“Eh, that’s easy enough to fix. We can go to the shop tomorrow to get a new lamp and I’ll show you how to put it in. Then I’ll take you out for a proper lesson.”

Aaron stared at him, dazed, but Haley skipped over and hugged her dad. “You’re the best!” She pressed her face into his shoulder. “We’re so sorry.”

Roy huffed. “Seventeen and not knowing how to drive. That’s just not right.”

Aaron felt awkward then, understanding the reason for Roy’s reaction. The man viewed this situation as a failing by his own father. He felt the unreasonable urge to defend him, felt the excuses rise to his lips easily enough. But he knew it might not be the best idea to start an argument with the owner of the car he’d just crashed, who’s house he was allowed to live in for reasons he didn’t quite comprehend. Before he could decide where his loyalty belonged, Haley looked down the driveway.

“Who’s car is that?”

Roy looked over his shoulder casually. “Hmm? Oh that thing?”

Haley stepped around him to get closer at the small gray car. It was boxy and the seats inside were a little faded. She turned back around to look at her dad suspiciously.

“Well, Ms. Grace wanted to get rid of it, said she was too old to be driving. And I thought you might be needing something to get around in with that new license of yours. You sure can’t be taking my car all the time.” He held up a set of keys. Haley shrieked, jumping to hug him again.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou”

Roy laughed. “You’ll have to share with your sister.”

Haley rolled her eyes but nothing could dampen her glee. She turned to Aaron who was still frozen by too many unexpected events in the last ten minutes. He forced a smile back at her, amazed that this was something that really happened to people.

“Happy birthday sweetheart,” Roy said, handing Haley the keys. “I’m going to go find your mother.” He turned to walk back inside and as he passed Aaron, he patted him gently on the shoulder. Aaron looked at him with a strained expression, still finding it impossible to believe that he wasn’t about to be kicked out, at the very least.

“It’s alright, son. You’re alright.”

[trappedgoose-in-a-writblr-room]

Not Today

tw blood, possible character death (under the cut)

banner by the lovely @creweemmaeec11, finally got the chance to use it ! :D

Hero’s shift was almost over.

Thank god for that, she thought, if I have to walk one more time around this damn building I swear I’m going to-

Oh.

There was blood in the alley. Blood. Someone was bleeding, a civilian no doubt. Hero’s eyes snapped up and she caught the tell-tale glint of metal. Try as they might, it was impossible to completely rid the city of criminals. Could this have happened for something as trivial as money? The thought almost made her blood boil. But first-

Oh god, there was so much blood.

It wasn’t even a conscious thing - her legs acted faster than her brain, and suddenly, she was next to the man’s side in no time.

Sweat plastered hair to their forehead, eyebrows scrunched together in obvious pain. The man wasn’t even conscious. Hero was relieved whenshe saw the rise and fall of their chest, having feared for the worst. Not that the knife in their side was any good.

Hero pulled out her communicator, calling for an ambulance. Even in the haze of panic and rambling, she couldn’t help but feel a pull of familiarity, somehow.

“Hello, hello sir? Can your hear me?” Hero lightly tapped their cheek, when she’d been reassured help was on the way. Subconsciously, her eyes flitted over each of the man’s features. “I’ve called the ambulance. They’re coming as fast as they can. You’re going to get help as soon as possi-”

She stopped. Rubbed her eyes. Did it again.

Oh.

She recognized those ocean blue eyes, though they were always filled with cruel delight. Recognized those thin lips, though they were always fitted into a snarl. Recognized the straight black hair, now greased with sweat and pain.

Villain.

Villain - the most wanted criminal in all the world - was sitting in an alley, clothes torn and bloody. Villain - the one who had the blood of thousands on their hands - was there, mask off, and vulnerable. Villain - who hurt and tortured and betrayed - was bleeding out right in front of her.

Hero snapped herself out of her shocked stupor. Now was not the time. It didn’t matter if they were the one who scarred her and hurt her, who tormented a city full of innocents. At the end of the day, they were still a citizen of the city - her city - and now they needed her help. She can entertain thoughts of arrest later. When they’re alive enough to even be arrested.

She tore his shirt where the knife stuck out, making sure not to jostle the wound any more than needed. Nevertheless, Villain let out another moan, and she couldn’t help but apologise. Bundling her hands in cloth so as to not risk infection, she pressed down on the wound. She’d never been good at being the medic and this time was no exception. More blood seemed to spill out at her attempts of getting it under control.

Hopeless, hopeless, hopeless.

“Don’t die- urgh, don’t die on me yet, Villain. Who… who am I supposed to stop if you’re gone? Huh?”

Stop being so damn hopeless.

Her eyes suddenly stung, and she had to blink back tears. Mentally, she chided herself for the onset of emotion. This wasn’t the /time/, she reminded herself.

Villain’s eyes fluttered open, and the sigh of relief that escaped couldn’t be helped.

“Hey, hey Villain? I’m here… I’m here for you, and help is on the way. It shouldn’t be long now, so just stay awake for me. Okay? Villain?”

Villain’s eyes widened, just for a moment, before returning to its usual sarcastic gaze. “Oh, the stories they’ll tell if I fall asleep here, in your arms,” they smirked, then groaned at the movement.

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at that. “Of course, we can’t risk tarring your oh-so-perfect reputation, now can we?” Still, she clasped their hand, and flushed at the affirmation she felt when they gripped back. Her eyes felt wet again and she just needed one last thing from them.

“Just, just promise me that. Promise me you won’t leave me, not now. All great villains have to go out with a bang, don’t they?”

“Who said…who said I was dying today,” Villain croaked out, before their hand finally let go.

[tobiosmilktea]

red ink — semi eita

2.5k words | genre/s: tattoo shop!au, friends with benefits, smut | warning/s: uhh badly written nsfw | pairing: musician!semi x tattoo artist!reader

↪︎ in which famous musician, semi eita is a regular at your tattoo parlor and only gets work done from you and you only. the only catch is that fans only know that much and definitely not the fact that you and him are friends with benefits.

a/n: happy belated bday for my good friend @kitsunetea. here’s my shameless second (third?) attempt at writing smut as a late bday gift bc fuck it, amirite haha ✋🏻😔

please take it easy on this one,, this is singlehandedly one of the worst nsfw pieces i’ve ever written and i just want to apologize in advance...

semi had forgotten the tingling feeling of a tattoo gun striking away at his skin. he liked how each indent of minuscule pinpricks would leave a mark on him forever. the pain, though not enough to make him grit his teeth like the first time around when he impulsively got one on the side of his ribcage, was actually quite nice. the sensation was almost addictive, however, it wasn’t as nearly as addictive as you.

it was no shock nor surprise that each reveal of his newest tattoo was always done by you. most would understand the practicality of going to one tattoo artist consistently. if anything, most of his fans would come to believe that he simply just liked your style of tattooing and artistry, but no one would even claim to think that you two had even a pinch of something going on behind the scenes. it wasn’t like he would always stop by your shop all disguised and covered up in a black cap and a face mask just in case there were any hidden onlookers that would blatantly assume the worst.

the worst being that semi eita, the nation’s current rockstar heartthrob, was hooking up with some obscure, back alley tattoo artist.

but it was safe to say he was as addicted to you as he was addicted to the infamous pain of receiving a tattoo.

it had been ages since his last tattoo. this one especially was placed on his right forearm of a snake that spiraled up and around his wrist in red ink.

times like these—here, where your eyes are focused and locked onto his skin, making sure to capture each intricate detail, brows drawing together in concentration as you made swift and accurate runs over his skin—came to realize how much he missed the feeling of getting tattooed. but most importantly, he missed the feeling of you. the warmth of your skin, body blazing underneath him as your breath tickled at the nape of his neck.

at moments like these where he could just stare at your entirety for an hour and a half, admiring how the low lights cast shadows upon each and every curve of your body was enough to keep him occupied through the process.

you lifted your tattoo gun up as your other gloved hand wiped the area clean from any residual ink. you took one last look at your work, clean and well-done.

it was pretty good if you could say so yourself. the linework was easily one of your best, and the shading was even better. no wonder semi liked getting work done by you so much (other than the fact that you two are friends with benefits—he would joke, “i’ll give you the best night of your life and you can give me a free tattoo in return.”)

you’ve never seen that man back out of a joke that quickly in your life. regardless, you still found yourself taking him up on that offer, still paying for his tattoos as a good customer should. support local businesses as they always say.

“alright,” you say, breaking the last ten minutes of silence as you cleaned him up. “you already know the drill–gently wash it with warm soap and water at least twice a day, pat dry, and then apply ointment.”

semi looked up at you once you stood up to grab a box of saniderm from another station. he stands up, making his way to one of the large mirrors on the wall to inspect his tattoo as a smile crept onto his lips.

“how is it?”

“it’s perfect,” he says, “as always.”

“well, you shouldn’t expect anything less from me.”

“you know, you don’t have to be so professional all the time. the shop’s already closed and no one else is here but us.”

you give him a pointed look as you take out a strip of saniderm large enough to cover the circumference of his forearm. you press the thin plasticine carefully around his freshly bruised skin, peeling the protective backing off of the clear bandage. “technically, you’re still a customer. can’t really give you any more special treatment.”

“says the girl who literally gives me tattoos after the shop closes,” semi fires back.

“or you could actually come in during normal hours to get one instead of coming a minute before we close just so we can hook up,” you deadpan, ignoring the look he gave you as you turn around and made your way towards the front desk.

semi doesn’t miss a single beat in following right behind you, stopping in front of the counter as you were on the other side with the cash register.

“well if you didn’t want to fuck in the back room anymore, you could’ve just told me,” says semi as you tap away at the screen in front of you, “we can go to my apartment instead.”

“paying with card again?” you ask, completely ignoring the way your body heated up all of a sudden.

the musician in front of you nods, handing you his card quickly. you take the thin plastic out of his hand and swiped it in one quick motion, handing it to him once the machine properly reads his card. within seconds, the receipt comes out of the printer. you snatch it from the opening before shoving it into semi’s chest.

“so what do you say?” he presses, continuing to follow you around like a dog as you serpentine your way back to your station.

you let out a sigh, huffing as you start cleaning up, “about what?”

“about me taking you home. maybe spend the night?”

you swerve around to face him, a spray bottle of disinfectant in one hand and paper towels in the other. you give him a coy smile, “you’re funny,” you huff before pushing past him to spray the chair then wiping it down.

“come on, (y/n), it’s been a while since we’ve last done anything together.” semi gives you a mischievous pout, “don’t you miss me?”

his words immediately flush out your cheeks as you recalled the memory so vividly, it was like you could almost feel semi’s large hands exploring every inch of your body, memorizing every dip and curve like it was second nature. to think that all happened in the storage closet while there were people still in the shop. the simple thought of your last rendezvous with him went straight to your heat.

no wonder you haven’t done anything with semi in a while after that little stunt he pulled almost a month ago.

in order for a tattoo shop to run properly, it needed to be completely sanitary to prevent any health complications considering your job was to literally puncture tattoo ink deep into people’s skin, the risk of infection runs high in situations like these. so by law, fucking in a tattoo shop, regardless if it was in the backroom, was completely out of regulations. not to mention the scandals to potentially spread like wildfire that one of the world’s favorite musicians being at the root of all this.

those poor fangirls, you thought. drama was the last thing you wanted.

“so?” you say, trying to pull yourself together as you finish sanitizing the chair. you turn to face him, hoping that he couldn’t see the way your cheeks were burning up knowing he would only keep up the teasing. “why don’t you just fuck one of you groupies or something?”

semi scoffs, “i’d never stoop that low. besides, you’re the only one i’ve been with ever since this started happening between us.”

“good for you for not being a whore, i guess?”

you brush past him again, this time cleaning up the mess on your table. placing the spray bottle of water, rolls of paper towels, bottles of red ink, and your gloves away–you discard anything else in the bin.

“don’t be like that,” he sighs as he comes and wraps a strong arm around your waist. he rests his chin on your shoulder, the tip of his nose tickling at your skin as his mouth latches onto your neck. “i for sure missed you.”

“eita,” you say, attempting to hold back a moan as he nipped at the sweet spot on your neck. despite your efforts, quiet mewls escape your lips as his thumbs rubbed circles over your hips. “i-i still have to clean up. let me finish and then maybe we could—”

without another word, semi lets go of you and immediately starts getting to work, gathering up all the one-time-use disposable items and dumping them all in the trash. he moves quickly, rubbing down every nook and cranny of your station until it’s squeaky clean. your eyes widen at his state. it was clear he wanted to get this over with as fast as possible so he can finally have you all to himself.

did he really yearn for you this much?

in just a few minutes, the job is already done. clean and spotless and ready for tomorrow’s workday as semi gives you a hopeful look. “is that all?”

you hold back a smile as you motion towards the boxes stacked up near the entrance of the backroom, “i still have to put those away and then we’re all done for the day.”

the man doesn’t even let you finish as he’s already making his way down the hallway. There was no sign of hesitancy in his actions as he grabbed two of the boxes, one stacked on top of the other as he barged into the backroom. you follow him in with only one box in your hand as you placed them in their respective places on the large industrial shelving.

you let out a grunt as you picked up the last box and inserting it into its spot. you sigh, dusting your hands as you turn around to face semi, “alright, we’re all d—”

semi doesn’t hesitate for a second to push you up against the wall, his lips crashing into yours with such desperation and fervor. he had been anticipating this for the past two hours. from the moment he walked in, to the moment you finished tattooing him; all he wanted was you.

you moan into his lips, his hand cupping your jaw while the fingers of the other were already working their magic. his touch greatly juxtaposed the zeal in the way he kissed you deeply, dipping his tongue between your soft lips as his finger, slightly calloused from years of guitar playing, gently trailed their way up your shirt.

there was a brief moment where you had to pull away from him in order to catch your breath. chest rising and falling rapidly along with the quickening beat of your heart, semi dived down to your neck, marking you with dark red bruising to anywhere he had access to. his large palms rubbed your sides before squeezing at your breasts to elicit a pleasurable groan from you. the pent-up heat within you only built the more he played with your body, fingers flicking at your nipples.

“what happened to taking me back to your place?” you asked breathlessly.

“i couldn’t wait any longer,” he mutters on your warm skin, feeling his soft lips twitch into a lopsided grin as before you knew it, he was already tugging your shirt over your head. “jump,” he says and you don’t miss a beat.

he catches you quickly, hands palming your ass as he steers you towards one of the supply tables. pushing away loose items and paperwork off to the sides.

semi’s lips meet yours again as he fiddles with the button and zipper of your jeans, diving his hand inside. he palms your sex, the pads of his fingers teasing up and down your slit as his thumb rubs circular motions around your clit. your moan muffles into his shoulder, breathe heavy and uneven.

you couldn’t seem to catch your breath as he dipped two fingers into you, pumping them in and out slowly. it was a nice change of pace from earlier, and yet you couldn’t help but let out mewls of impatience as you ground your hips into his hand, desperate for more.

semi knew what the hell he was doing.

he was a musician after all. his entire career was literally built off of his innate ability to play the guitar that each expertly placed finger and movement that accompanied it was guaranteed to send waves of pleasure throughout your entire body. he was good at what he did and he knew it. he didn’t need to see the way you were shaking under him, coating his hand with your juices, or have to hear your addicting moans to know you felt so, so good.

“eugh, eita–” your breath hitches when he curls his fingers inside you, rubbing the spongy spot deep within you in the best way possible. you curse under your breath, savoring the pleasure as you felt your release coiling in your abdomen.

“you’re close aren’t you?” semi didn’t even have to ask to know as your walls tightened around him. you nod hastily, eyes coating in lust and the desire to feel the release as you look at him.

the look that you gave him as enough to send him over the edge, his thoughts blurring once he quickens his pace, his middle and ring finger pistoning in and out of you.

you let out a cry, practically trembling under him. “oh my god, oh my god.”

with his other hand, he finds your clit again, rubbing you over the edge. it was all too much. from the mixing cacophony of the most obscene and vulgar sounds of sex emanating from the backroom to the absolute thrill of how good semi was making you feel—you were ready to feel that euphoric glow.

“fuck,” you clawed at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin even through the fabric of his shirt. “shit, baby, i’m gonna—”

semi doesn’t mind the sting of your scratches at his body as he was too busy paying mind to you cumming all over his hand. gushing fluid escapes from you in waves as semi continues pumping his fingers in and out of you, his pace matching with the way your walls pulsated around him.

as you came down from your high, your arms that rested on the table to hold you up felt weak. almost immediately, your body slumps onto semi as he licks your pleasure off his fingers. you bury your face into the crook of his neck as you both stayed there for a few beats to catch your breaths, savoring the unique afterglow whenever you were with semi.

perhaps it wasn’t so bad doing this type of thing with him a bit more often. you didn’t mind what you had with him right now even if you two were just friends with benefits. you liked what you had now and asking for more would certainly cause a strain you don’t want to happen so soon.

your hand reaches up to run through his soft hair.

“hey,” you softly say. he only responds with a hum, “what about you?” you ask as your eyes cast down to the straining tent in his jeans.

he doesn’t answer. instead, he places a few kisses on your cheek and down to your neck before placing one of your lips. “let’s continue this at home, i have a surprise for you.”

general taglist: @yongboxerrr @rosepetalhaven @tvwhoresblog @tanakaslastbraincell @kellesvt @kitsunetea @anejuuuuoy

[ezwhump]

⛑ - Some tender first-aid maybe? for Lennon?

Ice - Russell & Lennon - injuries, fluff, medical jargon, mention of previous abuse, first-aid, attempted deconditioning, ice

In the end, Russell decided to have a private doctor make a house-call.

Dr. Bryant was thorough and gentle, humming whenever she disinfected a shallow cut, talking to him softly, explaining what she was doing and how it would help him feel better.

Lennon seemed more at ease, almost bewildered by her presence, and noted softly after she left that she smelled good. Like you.

“He’s a tad dehydrated, so he’ll need to up his fluid intake. Switch between water and electrolytes; Gatorade, Powerade. Introduce it slowly, water it down. It doesn’t seem like he’s all that used to sugar.” She gave him an almost pitying look, and then handed Russell a serrated piece of paper on top of a pile she’d printed out for him.

“On top are things you’ll need to tend to on a daily basis, like cleaning to prevent any kind of infection, instituting a balanced diet. Start with bland foods; sugar-free applesauce, plain oatmeal, watered-down broth. Stuff high in nutrients. He might not like the texture but he needs it.”

Russell nodded along, taking a pen to the paper and scribbling down notes on the blank side, thanking her profusely as she breezed out the door with a sincere “call me if you need anything”.

On Friday night around 9pm, Lennon padded into Russell’s office, obediently setting down a bottle of antibacterial ointment, the saline bottle, the glove box, tape, and fresh non-adhesive wrappings. Russell shuffled in his chair over to the love-seat where Lennon had already put a pillow down. He was getting used to the smaller luxuries, learning his way around, and it eased Russell’s mind.

“How’s the book?”

“Funny, sir.”

Russell had found out Lennon could read when he asked how to pronounce ‘electrolytes’. Huh, so he’s been reading my notes. He was less pleased when he asked how Lennon could read.

“Old master said it was no good ownin’ a dumb pet.”

It still made Russell seethe if he thought about it. Old master.

“That’s good. If you finish it and want another, all you gotta do is ask, yeah?”

Lennon nodded and climbed up onto the love-seat. He liked to be facing Russell as much as he could whenever it was time to clean any of his cuts or re-wrap his neck. At first it was ugly, Lennon whimpering and grinding his teeth, tears springing up every time Russell so much as touched the skin above the abrasions. But after a week and a half of antibiotics and lots of practice, the wounds were healing up nicely and Lennon was more vocal with his thoughts.

Russell rolled up his shirt sleeves and dug in his drawer for the cotton pads, setting everything down at Lennon’s feet, bracing himself for any sort of grinding or whimpering.

And then he had an idea.

“Hold on a sec.”

He returned holding a small cup filled with nugget ice, offering it to Lennon who took it willingly, not taking his eyes off of Russell.

“Right, let's get this over with, hm?”

“Yessir.”

Russell unwrapped Lennon’s neck gently, trying to ignore how he could feel Lennon’s breath on his open collar, pulling back before he could buckle and bury his face in the kid’s hair.

Kid. The little fucker’s twenty. He had to keep reminding himself.

“Sir?” Lennon almost whispered it, still reluctant to address Russell first.

“Russ.”

“Russ. What’s the cup for, sir?”

Russell laughed and tossed the old wrappings into the trash, flushing Lennon’s neck with the saline and snapping on a new glove.

He picked an ice cube out of the cup with his free hand.

“For you, sweetheart.”

He pushed it into Lennon’s mouth with one hand and dabbed the ointment on with his gloved pinky in quick succession, trying to be as gentle as possible.

Lennon jerked a little, but then moved the ice around, tasting, and Russell tried his damnedest to pay attention to the task at hand instead of the interesting little mouth sounds Lennon was making as he cradled his head.

“My mom used to do it for my little brother when he got sick,” Russell explained.

“That’s awfully nice of her.”

“Mm.” Russell cleaned off the pink running stains off Lennon’s neck and re-wrapped it, taping the edge down.

“Did you get sick, sir?”

“Nah, healthy as a horse. You’re all done, kid.”

Lennon touched at the bandage and then almost immediately grabbed for his shirt, and then remembered the ice cup instead, digging another nugget out and popping it in his mouth.

Russell winced when he heard Lennon crunch down on it.

“You don’t have to chew it kid. You can just suck on it till it melts.”

“Sorry, sir.”

Russell smiled and tousled Lennon’s hair, scratching the base of his skull gently. Lennon practically purred.

“I’ve got to finish up some work, but I’ll come to bed soon, okay?”

“Yessir.” Lennon collected up the supplies and fished the old wrappings out of the office trash to put into the kitchen trash. “Sir?”

Russell turned in his chair, lifting his eyebrows.

He watched Lennon swallow, almost wincing at his unspoken words. “If you got sick, I’d feed you ice.”

Russell made a weird noise in his throat and then smiled.

“Thanks, kid. Be out soon.”

--

this prompt was so fun, i couldn't resist taking my laptop off it's charger as soon as i could to get it down <3 thank you bee!

tags: @deluxewhump @queenofthedark @highwaywhump @yet-another-heathen @briars7 @whumpzone @cupcakes-and-pain @whumpadump1939 @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi 

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

@sicktember Prompt # 20: Doctor Visit/Checkup

Title: The Best Medicine

Fandom: N/A

Based on this post by me. (Sick doctor)

A physician leaves work miserably sick. His RN girlfriend takes care of him.

(Author’s Note: This breaks the rule I set of less than 2k words but I wrote it before I decided to do this challenge and thought it worked well here. I just needed a sick doctor having PE performed on them ok 😅)

Due to the fact that it was 6:30 AM and she was still more asleep than awake, it took her a while to realize the man she was dating was standing behind her as she waited in line for coffee. However, in her defense, she had never seen him in this coffee line at this time of day before (and she herself was here at this time every day).

It wasn't until she heard a familiar, sniffly yawning noise that she turned and caught his eye. 

"Shane? What are you doing here? You're usually sleeping right now." She didn't go to greet him right away, mainly because she didn't want to lose her place in line, and only two people stood between her and caffeination.

He too looked startled, though happy to see her. "Molly, hey," he said. There was a squeaky rasp to his voice and he had to clear his throat before he could continue. "Had an early meeting that got cancelled at the last minute. Since I was already awake, figured I'd come into the office early and clear out my inboxes."

"Gotcha. Well cool, that means I get to treat you to coffee for once. You find a place to sit and I'll get the drinks."

He shot her a grateful look and stepped out of line.

Molly ordered, received, and paid for the coffees quickly, tipping generously, before going to join Shane. He kissed her on the cheek as he took his cup, and they shared a warm smile as they made their way to a little sitting area, sharing a bench against the wall.

"Kathy's coffee is the best in the hospital. You'll love this."

"So you've told me many times. I'm glad I finally get to try it. What did you get me?"

"A surprise. You'll like it, trust me."

"Cheers, then." With another smile, they tapped their cups together before taking long pulls of their beverages.

"This is delicious," he said after a moment. "Best I've ever had from here. Thanks, babe."

"My pleasure." They sat for a bit in companionable silence, sipping their drinks. However, Molly couldn't help but cast sidelong glances at her partner with increasing frequency. Now that she was next to him, she saw he looked quite unwell. He was pale and shivery, with a flush over his cheeks and ears, and looking overall rundown and uncomfortable, a far cry from his usual easy smile and warm, steady demeanor.

"Is everything ok, doc? You really don't look good."

"You're saying I look ugly today?" he countered teasingly, dodging the question. 

She nudged him playfully. "You're just as handsome as ever. I'm saying you look sick. Are you feeling ok?"

He shrugged. "Think I'm just tired. Not used to being up so early. My head and throat are kinda sore I guess."

"Just tired, huh?" She reached out and placed her palm to his forehead, then his flushed cheeks, and finally his neck, where she could feel the swollen lymph nodes she had already seen. She clicked her tongue scoldingly.

"That's a fever, Doctor Mitchell, and a high one at that. Why in the world did you come to work today?"

"No kidding, really?" Shane leaned back against the wall, rubbing his neck and looking sheepish. "I can't even remember the last time I had a fever. Had to have been before medical school. Guess I forgot what it feels like."

"Hmm. Well regardless, you need to go home. You can't risk infecting your patients and staff."

"Yeah, of course. I'll go now."

When he stood, she did as well, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug.

"Feel better. Get lots of rest and fluids."

"I know the drill," he rasped, smiling a little. "I am a physician."

"Sometimes I have my doubts, mister 'doesn't know what a fever feels like.' Sports medicine doesn't deal with the flu much." She kissed his shoulder fondly.

"Yeah, yeah." He pulled away, running his thumb over her jawline. "Thanks again for the coffee. I'll see you later. Text me when you have time. I'm sure I'll be bored out of my mind."

"Will do."

She watched him go wistfully, wishing she was going with him.

Naturally he wasn't far from her thoughts for the rest of the day. The hospital OB-GYN clinic was as busy as ever, and the hustle and bustle kept Molly, an RN, quite distracted, but every moment of downtime found her wondering how Shane was doing.

She texted him a few times as he requested. The first time he replied right away, saying he had made it home safely and was relaxing on the couch. The second time he replied a few hours later, saying how tired he was and how he really was starting to feel unwell, but he was doing fine. The third time he never replied.

Her plans for the weekend had been solidified in her mind as soon as she felt how feverish he was. She practically ran out the door as soon as she clocked out. Her first stop was her house to change clothes, shower, and gather some supplies. Her second stop was Shane's favorite soup and sandwich place for two quarts of soup and two sandwiches to go. From there, she headed to Shane's condo across town.

She hadn't informed him she was coming because she had wanted it to be a bit of a surprise. Initially her plan was to leave the soup and sandwich on the stoop and ring the bell, then duck out of sight until the last minute. However, her plan changed when she caught a glimpse of him through the front door.

He was fast asleep, sprawled out on his stomach on the couch. Bundled under two blankets and snoring with his mouth open, surrounded by a nest of used tissues and dishes, he was the picture of illness.

She didn't have the heart to wake him by knocking, so instead she used her copy of his house key to let herself in quietly, being careful not to let the cold air in with her. He didn't stir even after she shut and re-locked the door. After removing her coat, she deposited the items she had brought in the kitchen, then returned to his side. Perching on the edge of the couch, she ran her hand over his face and through his hair to wake him.

He stirred weakly, mumbling and snuffling as he opened his eyes. His face lit up upon seeing her, and he quickly sat up, leaning all of his sleepy, overly-warm weight against her for a tight hug.

"Molly, you're here! I'mb so habby to see you," he croaked earnestly.

She hugged him back just as tightly. "Of course I'm here. When you stopped replying to my texts, I knew I had to come check on you. You look so sick, poor guy, and you're so stuffed up. Are you surviving?"

He shrugged, pulling away. "I guess. I'mb doi'g ok. So achy and tired. Just been sleebi'g all day." He licked his cracked lips and tried to swallow, which resulted in a grimace. "Budt you should go, babe. I don'dt wandt you to catch this. It's ndasty."

As if to prove his point, he turned away from her to cough productively into his elbow, thick and chesty. He followed it up with a honking nose blow that was far less productive. She watched this display sympathetically.

"I'm not leaving you all alone and sick like this. And anyway, if I do get sick, I think I know a doctor who could take care of me." She bumped her shoulder against his. He smiled wanly. "Now, have you taken any medicine recently?"

He sheepishly averted his eyes. "Umb… ndo. I… don'dt really have anythi'g to take."

"Ugh, Shane. Don't tell me you're one of those 'it only treats the symptoms' purists."

"Ndo, it's ndot thad. Like I told you, I just haven't been sigck in years. I've never thought to buy cold mbedicine."

"You're such a guy," she sighed. "Even if you are a doctor. You at least got your flu shot right?"

"Yeah. Budt they're already sayi'g it's probably ndot goi'g to be very effective this year."

"Of course they are." She sighed again. "However, I had a hunch this would happen, so I came prepared." She quickly retrieved a bag from the kitchen which rattled with medications, sitting down beside him again. She selected the ones she wanted and shook them into his hand, watching closely as he swallowed them.

"You're acti'g like you don'dt trust mbe to take care of mbyself," he teased, taking several gulps of water to chase the pills. 

"That's not necessarily true. I just want to do everything possible to help you feel better."

He had to cough harshly again before he could answer, hard enough to redden his face. "I love thad you wandt to take care of mbe. Budt you should really go. I'mb so contagious right ndow, and I don'dt wandt to try to stay away from you."

"Then don't. I came here to be close to you. I don't care if I get sick. It's the weekend anyway. I'm here for you and only you. Besides, you were probably contagious yesterday too, and we still made out. So it doesn't matter anyway."

"You're too good to mbe," he mumbled, finally succumbing and leaning his full weight against her, closing his eyes as he wrapped his arms loosely around her. "Budt I still don'dt approve. You're staying AMA, just so we're clear."

"Call me a rebel, then," she murmured, stroking his sweaty hair.

He sneezed suddenly, only once, but wet and laborious, catching it in his elbow. She quickly pulled a tissue from the nearby box. He took it gratefully, blowing his stopped nose as best he could before resting against her again. He sighed deeply as she resumed her petting.

"You're lugcky the desire to be taken care of when sigck is a deebply ingrained biological traidt," he continued to mumble, sounding sleepier by the second.

"I am, huh? Well you're talking an awful lot for someone who has no voice."

She felt him smile against her, but he did fall silent for a while, aside from his sniffling and soft coughing. She thought he was going back to sleep when he spoke up again.

"You know whad would mbake mbe feel even better thad mbedicine? Sumb soubp."

"Hmm, well it just so happens you have a girlfriend who thinks of everything." She gently shifted him off of her, going back to the kitchen and returning with a quart of soup and a sandwich.

"Sal's chigcken rice?" he rasped, his eyes lighting up hungrily as he sat up straighter. 

"Naturally. We've been together almost two years. I know what you like when you're not feeling good."

"You're a lifesaver," he groaned, taking the proffered food and digging in right away.

"I'm glad you have an appetite anyway. I won't ever forget last year's stomach flu incident."

 "Ugh, don'dt rembind mbe," he said with a shudder. "Bud other than thad one time, I'll always have an abbetite for this soubp. This is all I've wanted all day." He wolfed down the food with unexpected vigor.

"Well then you're lucky I think of everything, like I said. And to think you wanted to kick me out."

"I ndever *wanted* you kigck you oud. I'm just goi'g to hade mbyself whed you ged sigck," he mumbled, swallowing a mouthful.

"Maybe I won't get sick, did you think of that? And like I've been saying--" She leaned in to kiss him fully on the mouth, long and hard, until he pulled away gasping. "--I don't care. As long as you promise to take care of me if I do, I won't complain about a few days off. So stop worrying."

"Ugh, take it easy babe," he moaned, pressing a hand to his forehead. "This fever has mby blood flow all mbessed ub. You can'dt be usi'g your lips on mbe like thad."

"Don't worry, I'm not planning to seduce you today. Unless you instigate it of course." She gave him a wicked look and he flushed. 

"You're something else, Mol," he muttered, unable to hide a smile.

"Just eat your 'soob'." 

He did what he was told while she tidied up his sick bed area. When he was almost done, she fetched another bag from the kitchen and began rummaging through it. He eyed the items she pulled out suspiciously.

"How much crabp did you bri'g? And whad are you doi'g ndow?"

"Something I've always wanted to do. And something I think will make you smile."

"I feel like I've been smili'g since you godt here."

It was Molly's turn to flush and smile. "Something that might make you laugh, then."

She sat close beside him on the couch with her stethoscope around her neck, placing a little tablet of paper and a pen in front of her on the table. 

"Constitution:" she both said this out loud and wrote it on the paper. "Well-nourished. Unwell appearing today. Complains of malaise and myalgia. Lymphatics:" 

She had been neatly writing everything down as she spoke. After the last word, she reached out to gently palate the visibly swollen lymph nodes in his neck. He moaned softly as she massaged them, the moan turning into a cough.

"Cervical lymphadenopathy noted. Lymph nodes tender to palpation." She wrote this down as well.

"Whad are you doi'g, Mol?"

"You get to be a doctor all the time. Today you're definitely the patient, so I'm taking my turn being the doctor and doing a physical exam on you. We need to make a diagnosis after all."

"Ah, of course. Mby apologies, please continue," he said with a little laugh, wiping his nose with a tissue.

"Thank you. Open your mouth please." Inserting a thermometer under his tongue, she also took his pulse with her watch as the thermometer calibrated. 

"Resting heart rate is elevated at 86 bpm. Temperature is abnormal at 101.8 degrees Fahrenheit."

"I could've told you thad. I just toogk my tembp before you godt here."

"I find that hard to believe since you were sleeping when I got here. Now shh. Actually say 'ah'." She situated a tongue depressor in his mouth, peering in. "Throat erythematous and inflamed," she said and wrote. "Now lean forward a bit if you would."

He did as he was told, looking slightly put-upon and she slid the diaphragm of her stethoscope under his worn university tee shirt, placing it on his back as she listened to him breathe for a moment. "Minor ronchi noted. No crackles or rales. Minimal concern for pneumonia at this time."

"Well thad's a relief," he said, sniffling wetly.

"Shh, I still need to listen to your heart," she said, sliding the diaphragm of the stethoscope around to his chest. 

"Terrible beside manner. I'm leavi'g a ndegative review."

She gave him her sternest "doctor" look. He merely smiled impishly. She sighed, biting back a smile of her own, and listened again.

"Normal rhythm. L-1, L-2 heard."

Setting aside the instruments, she slid her hands under his shirt, feeling gently.

"Skin is overly warm or feverish. Abdomen is soft, non-tender and non-distended."

"You didn't have to go under mby shirt, you know. Abdominal exam cad be done over clothi'g," he said, smirking.

"I was being… thorough," she said with a wink.

He chuckled hoarsely. "Someone's godt the hots for their patiendt. Thad's trouble," he murmured, stifling a yawn as he pulled his blanket closer around himself with a shiver. 

"Neurologic: grossly normal. Tremors noted due to chills. Psychiatric: patient is oriented to person, place, time. Behavior normal, but appears lethargic, fatigued and sleepy."

After writing down these final notes, she cuddled up beside him on the couch, wrapping him in her arms and pulling him close as he started shivering in earnest. He nestled against her wearily.

"How did I do?" she murmured. "Did I make you laugh a little at least?"

"Very thorough and efficiendt," he mumbled sleepily, coughing. "And yes you did. Whad's your diagnosis and treadtment plan, doctor?"

"At best a severe case of rhinovirus. I'm more inclined to think influenza due to the fever, but we'll continue to monitor. No active intervention needed at this time. Bed rest at home, OTC medication as needed and adequate hydration recommended." At this she handed him his water bottle. He drank several big gulps before handing it back to her and snuggling in again.

"If that's what the doctor orders," he sniffled, closing his eyes. 

She held him for a while, since that seemed to be all he wanted, just rubbing his back and stroking his hair. However, they were forced to move when Shane pulled away to break into one of his barking, painful coughing fits. He tried to settle again after the fact, making a face. 

"I don't feel good, Mol," he mumbled pathetically. "This sugcks."

"I know, doc. But I'm doing everything I can to help you feel better. I didn't realize your fever was so high though," she murmured. "And that was after you took medicine. But you seemed just fine yesterday. You don't do anything by halves, do you?"

"Thad's one of the reasons you have the hots for mbe, you know id is," he croaked.

"The only thing with the hots around here is that fever. You're sweltering."

"Sorry," he mumbled, yet made no effort to move off of her. Instead he sneezed wetly into his elbow.

"Update, you're sweltering *and* gross," she said conversationally. Yet she made no effort to move away from him either, kissing his forehead instead. He yawned as she did. "And sleepy."

"Thingk I'm just sigck," he muttered.

"Yeah, let's go with that. Do you want to go back to sleep right now?"

"Ndo. Ndot while you're here. I'm too sigck to sleeb anyway."

"There's no such thing as being too sick to sleep. But if you don't want to sleep right now, I have one more present for you." 

"You've already given mbe too mbuch."

"There's no such thing as that either." She carefully shifted out from under him again and attempted to head to the kitchen once more. Before she could take more than a step though, he caught her hand and made her turn around. Seeing his imploring look, she stepped back into the V of his legs. He wrapped his arms fully around her, burying his hot face in her abdomen. 

"Thangk you mbuch for the soubp and mbedicine, baby. You really are a lifesaver. I just wanted to tell you thad."

She nuzzled her face into his messy hair. "Anything to help you feel better. I can tell you're still miserable though."

"Nodt miserable with you here." 

"Just sick."

"Mhm," he mumbled, sleepily as ever. She let him hold her for another moment or two before speaking again.

"Seriously though, I have something else I want to give you. It'll just take a second to grab."

"Fine," he sighed. As he pulled away, she saw a hazy, pre-sneeze look cross his face. Sure enough, as she trotted to the kitchen, behind her she heard him emit a pair of messy, rough sneezes.

"That soup really got your nose going, huh?" she asked as she reentered the living room.

"Guess so," he sniffled, blowing his nose thickly. "Thad's the poindt though, right?"

"Indeed it is." She moved to the entertainment center and quickly plugged her laptop into the TV.

"Now whad are you doi'g?"

"Maybe you should stop asking questions and just wait and see."

"You know I hade surprises."

"That's not true at all in my experience, so I'm calling your bluff on that one. But you won't have to wait long for this one either way."

After a few setting changes to allow the laptop display to be projected on the TV, Molly popped a disk into the drive and started it up.

"Are we watchi'g somethi'g?"

"You and your questions." She tossed a thick DVD case into his lap. He picked it up, his eyes widening happily.

"The original Jurassic Park trilogy? Holy crabp, this is awesome!"

"I'm glad you approve," she laughed, stepping into his arms again. "It was going to be your Christmas present, but I figured a sick day at home is an even better occasion."

"This is perfect, love. You're ambazing," he mumbled, squeezing her tightly.

"Anything for my best guy." She nuzzled his hair again fondly. "Anything to help you sleep."

"I don'dt wandt to sleeb while you're here though. I don'dt wandt to mbiss out on seei'g you."

"Well then you're in luck, because I'm planning on staying here all weekend. So I'll be here when you fall asleep and when you wake up. No time wasted at all."

A grin split his face. "You'd do thad for mbe?"

"I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise. Doctors need to be looked after too, especially by their nurse girlfriends. So you stretch out and get comfortable and leave the rest to me."

"You're cooler than anadomy and dinosaurs combined, you know thad?"

Molly giggled happily. "I don't know if I'll ever come back from such high praise. You better quit while you're ahead, Dr. Mitchell."

"Only if you promise to make mbe coffee in the morni'g. Your good coffee."

"Sounds like a plan," she said with a grin and another kiss.

[putseraphinaonthaphone]

That's on Me | Revised Fic Pt. I

based on the thirst about Izuku wanting to beat the pussy because it's too good up by @awilddreamerwrites

cw// everyone is aged up to third years, quirk use during sex, innocence kink, m/m, anal play, d/s dynamic, creampies, sloppy seconds, threeway, group sex, Bakugo x Reader in an established relationship, queer reader who uses feminine descriptors (Bakugou calls you his girl/woman in intimate scenes where there's already pre-established consent to do so, pussy, tits, etc) but he/him pronouns, BakuDeku Poly dynamic w/ reader endgame

There was always tension in the air when the three of you were in the same room, different than the preceding energy of one of your boyfriend's explosive outbursts. More like the smell of a storm in the air, like lightening followed by earthshaking thunder.

Deku would look at Kacchan, and Kat would look at Deku, and Deku would look at you and Kat didn't really mind and why didn't he mind?!

If anyone came in he would start barking at Deku to 'get his eyes off his boyfriend before he blows his face off,' but if you happened to time it perfectly and you three were the only ones in the common room..

Your boyfriend didn't growl at you to cover up if you were wearing his boxers that molded indecently to your ass beneath his shirt, in fact he groped at your curves possesively- delighting in the way Deku watched every movement of his hand on your ass while you cuddled into him.

So when Deku burst into Kat's dorm room while you were face down, ass up and getting absolutely railed-- it seemed like the final straw snapped in all three of you.

"Get in here and shut the fucking door nerd." Your boyfriend growled at Deku who was already doing so without having to be asked. He came closer to the bed, entranced by the filthy squelching of the blond's cock in your soaking wet pussy.

"You've always got an eye on my- ngh- fucking girl, Deku. Imagined him like this didn't you?" Even though his words should've been angry, it sounded more like the dirty words he growled at you that lit your pussy on fire. Your boyfriend was fucking you stupid but you tried your best to call out to the greenet, wanting him to know that you wanted him here (as much as Kat did if he let himself admit it.)

"'Zuku," you couldn't help the way your voice came out fucked and whimpering when Kat was rearranging your guts with a vengance.

"Fucking slut, why is your cunt getting tighter on my cock when you say his name?" His accusing tone was rendered meaningless because his cum started filling your cunt as he hammered into you, making you cum around him to milk every drop of seed from his balls as they smacked against your ass.

"Because he wants me to take a turn at his pussy." The utter confidence in Izuku's earnest voice made your pussy clench around Kat's slowly softening girth. He pulled out of your pussy and let you collapse tiredly on the bed, sprawled out like the perfect little whore you were tempting them both to ruin you. He kissed your temple and grumbled a 'traitor' under his breath before turning to face Deku.

The greenet had his dick out and a scarred hand wrapped around it, and it made Kat's cheeks dark to see that he didn't try to hide himself. He keep stroking a cock that made both of you revel in your inner size queens, and the little sound he made when he grabbed his own heavy balls made Kat sport a half chub quick enough to make him dizzy from the blood loss.

But he had to pull himself together, if he was going to make this work with his heart and dignity in tact.

"And why the fuck do you think I'd let you?" He challenged, green eyes clashing with red as the two stood too close for their posture to be aggressive.

It was intimate, like they shared a center of gravity and couldn't help but be drawn together.

"Please, Katsu, Zuku.." You whimpered, your eyes heavy lidded and pleading as you rolled onto your back- pulling one knee up so that they could both see Kat's cum leaking out of your hole. "Stop fighting. I want all of us to fuck in as many permutations as possible before I can't take anymore. Got it?" Your demand was spoken with only a few moans and whimpers as you fingered your stretched pussy, knowing one of them would break and you'd get what you needed.

"Do you have a condom or.. can you swear to me that you're clean?" Kat looked at Deku seriously, and Deku's breathed hitched by the intensity of those red eyes on him. His rhythm with his hand stuttered before he was able to nod with honesty ringing in his voice as he answered,

"I'm clean, Kacchan. I swear. I wouldn't put him.. or you at risk like that. And.. no one compared to you two. I haven't had sex in months." The admission made you whine- you were going to be at the mercy of hasn't-had-his-dick-wet-in-months Izuku? You prayed that you'd be able to walk tomorrow.

"Then go for it. But I'll be watching you. Do a good job and make him cum or you'll never get to fuck his pussy again." The threat made Deku's thick cock spurt more precum as he nodded and made his way to the center of the bed to push both your thighs to your chest. There was no way you'd be able to escape the mating press he put you in, so your pussy gushed realizing you wouldn't really have a choice about being impaled on his cock-which was well over your boyfriends already intimidating 8 inches.

"You think you can be a good girl for me and take it all?" The tip of his cock kiss your cum filled hole, and he looked at you so sweetly when you nodded you could almost forget he was about to split you in half.

You could hear Kat cursing under his breath to the side of you as he pulled up a chair to watch, but you could also hear the shameless sound of spit hitting his hand so he could jack off to the sight of Izuku's muscled form pinning you to the bed. The greenet had grown over his three years at UA, and he was a few inches taller than Kat now, and a lot broader.

His large scarred hands gripped your hips as he started pushing into you, inch by inch until he was buried as far inside you as he could reach- pressing snugly against your cervix and his heavy balls resting against the luscious fat of your ass.

And it was like he saw the face of god. Your dripping, clenching, fluttering heat was the best thing he had ever felt on his dick. Even if he got to put his dick in Kacchan's equally fuckable ass like he dearly wanted to, he didn't think even then it would beat this. This, the perfect and maddening pussy that belonged to Kacchan's beloved boyfriend. His girl.

The pleasure of it, hot as the sun and tinged with something dark and hungry and wild, grabbed him by the base of the spine and infected him with the almost painful craving to rut into you as hard and deep as possible.

"He's so fucking tight," Izuku's filthy moan wasn't even addressed to you, but it made your pussy clench further around his thick girth as he fucked you. There was green lightening crackling around him and his gaze on your was determined as he fucked into you harder- wanting to get as deep into your insatiable, hungry little pussy as he could. He could think of nothing else. Not even Kacchan watching him fuck you, not what this all meant.

Your moans had long since gone past embarrassing but your boyfriend only continued to watch as his childhood best friend fucked orgasm after orgasm out of you, not put off in the slightest by the growing mess off fluids between your lush thighs caused by his generous attention to your throbbing clit.

At some point there was a loud CRACK and the headboard fell to pieces where Izuku had been trying to hold himself up. He had let go of your hips at some point, but the sharp smack of his hips against your ass was a testament to how determined he was to imprint the shape of his dick into you.

"He has the best pussy I've ever fucked. Doesn't it feel like he's trying to milk your load right out of you?" Katsuki grinned ferally with pride at being blessed with such an irresistible partner.

"He's going to," Izuku's bright green eyes meet yours intensely, and you shivered under his gaze as he continued to fuck your overstimulated pussy. Your legs shook around his waist but all he did was fuck you deeper so you couldn't run from it.

"Ah ah ah, don't run, sweetness. Even if I have to break the bed too, I'm making sure all my cum ends up in your tummy.."

Your cervix was hammered so persistently you were sure Izuku's plan was to shoot his cum directly into your womb. By the time he let out the filthiest groan of "ngh- fucking, take it-" all you can get out is a garbled mess of

"yes!" and "'Zuku!" and "baby.."

Katsuki was laying beside you now, watching Deku fight to control his strength as your pussy threatened to undo himcompletely by fluttering and milking him until he was gritting his teeth from the overstimulation. Kat had cum twice all over his own fingers watching Deku being bested by you. He was so high on the thought that his girl could do this to Izuku. Make him look all fucked out, flushed tits heaving as he kneeled over your well fucked form, desperate..

Pretty.

"You look like a fucking slut, Deku." Why did that come out sounding like he was flirting? "You owe me a fucking headboard too dumbass." You watched your boyfriend growl the threat as an after thought, smirking at the blush on his cheeks. When Izuku came back to bed after putting the washcloths he used to clean you both in the bathroom, his eyes trailed over Katsuki's bare chest and low slung basketball shorts with a slight wet spot- his fourth erection of the night making the greenet's mouth water.

"I think I can find a way to make it up to you."

[jaskiersvalley]

CW major character injury (beartrap)

Splitting up for winter seemed like the most sensible idea. Geralt would head north with Ciri and, at his insistence at not leaving his muse, Jaskier. Meanwhile Regis would lead the others south, down to Touissant for a bit of downtime. Privately Geralt also hoped their infuriatingly stubborn Nilfgaardian shadow would opt to head for the warmer climates and leave them alone. It wasn't even that Geralt was worried about the man following them. Over the weeks it had become abundantly clear that he was trying to help in his own way, even fighting off a stray bandit or two to keep their tail clean. Rather, Geralt simply couldn't be bothered to exert the energy to get to know yet another person and it was another mouth to feed. Given his rather solitary nature, the fact he was travelling with a ragtag bunch was already quite exhausting.

As luck would have it, Geralt ended up with the Nilfgaardian trailing after them, heading steadily north. The weather got colder and sometimes Geralt caught the whiff of another camp fire, creeping a little closer as it that small lessening of distance would give their tail a smidgeon more warmth. It was pathetic and Geralt was more than a little pissed off. Still, at least the trip up to Kaer Morhen would lose him. Nobody was foolish enough to try and reach the old keep alone, even Witchers succumbed to the trail, a human by himself stood no chance. So either their foolhardy idiot would find shelter for the winter in the surrounding villages or he would perish.

They were at the bottom of the mountain, one last night to get some rest before they braved the slopes. Jaskier and Ciri definitely needed sleep and to give their bodies a break. Geralt was content to meditate, keeping them safe. In the distance he could hear their Nilfgaardian make camp, daring to stray as close as he ever had. Frustrated, Geralt found himself wishing that a bear would appear and deal with the annoyance for him. Alas, he couldn't hear or smell a bear in the region despite the villages mentioning that there had been some bears sighted earlier in the year. Thankfully the local hunters had taken care of them. Lost in thought, Geralt almost didn't register the sound of something snapping shut before a pained cry echoed in the forest. Immediately he was up, sword in hand while Jaskier was on his feet too, looking around in the darkness.

In the distance Geralt could hear pained hitches of breath plus a few agonised grunts. Whatever had happened, it wasn't the swift death he'd wished on the Nilfgaardian. There wasn't anyone or anything else in the vicinity so whatever had happened, the idiot did to himself. Probably stabbed himself with an arrow in the dark. Despite all his ill-wishes, Geralt couldn't bring himself to ignore someone in trouble.

"It's the Nilfgaardian. He's in trouble."

There wasn't any argument when he set off, Jaskier and Ciri behind him, treading carefully, a flaming torch lighting their way. Geralt almost wished they hadn't had the torch because then he wouldn't have had to see the scene in front of him in full colour. The Nilfgaardian was on the ground at the edge of a small clearing where he'd obviously planned on making camp. However, the stench of blood around him suggested that something hadn't gone according to plan. Walking up to him, Geralt watched as the man realised he wasn't alone and jerked upright. A beartrap kept him rooted though. His hands were bloody, even worse, his palms had been cut open from where he'd obviously tried to pry the metal from his leg. What struck Geralt though was just how young the man looked. Wide blue eyes stared up from shock paled skin, lips almost white enough to be missed. Only slightly older than Ciri, probably about twenty, Geralt couldn't fathom why someone so young was so desperate.

"You'll need to keep still while we get this off," Geralt said, crouching down. The young man tried to scramble away but aside from leaning back, he couldn't go anywhere. "Why don't we help with the pain a bit?" Hand raised, Geralt prepared to cast axii. Before he could, a rock connected with the man's temple and knocked him out cold as Jaskier stood behind him, hand wrapped around the lightly bloodied rock.

"That will keep him still and out of it," he declared. "It was the kindest thing."

"Or you could have let me use axii to keep him calm." Geralt tipped the man's head to the side to check how badly the rock had split his skin. It was going to give him quite the bruise, possibly a black eye and one hell of a headache. Still, it did made life easier and Geralt pried the trap off. It had snapped in bone deep, probably even broke his leg. Humans were fragile like that and the trap was meant for a bear. Sighing, Geralt looked around the miserable excuse of a half made camp. It screamed of skills learned on the fly, for the sole purpose of survival rather than something practiced in safety before being put into reality. "Grab his things. We'll head up to Kaer Morhen tomorrow and take him with us."

They had more in the way of bandages with them and, while the man was unconscious, Geralt did his best to clean the wounds, splint the leg and bandage it as well as the cuts on his hands. There wasn't much to be done for the headache of the future though.

In the morning Geralt roused from his meditation to find a pair of blue eyes staring at him.

"You going to make an example of me and kill me?" The accent was harsh despite the soft voice. It wasn't what Geralt had expected coming out of the man's mouth.

"Yeah, I wasted all the bandages on you just for that. Name's Geralt."

"Cahir Mawr Dyrryn aep Ceallach."

"Quite the mouthful. Cahir alright with you?" The nod was answer enough and Geralt set about getting breakfast ready. It was only thanks to the events of the previous night that he kept an eye out for more beartraps and avoided falling victim to one himself. He set it off with a stick and winced as it splintered under the metal jaws.

Despite their best efforts, by the time they'd loaded Cahir onto the cart strapped to Roach, his cheeks were flushed with fever and Geralt could smell the sickness on him. The valiant effort to get to know his new travelling companions better was foiled by the way Cahir kept drifting off, a combination of sickness and from the hit to the head. When he woke, it was only Jaskier's quick grab to the back of his shirt that kept Cahir on the cart as he threw up over the side.

It wasn't looking good. The first night they stopped, Geralt helped rebandage Cahir's injured leg. As the cloth fell away, it became amply evident that infection had thoroughly set in. The cuts were an angry red without defined edges to the inflammation while the wounds themselves were puckered with puss.

"It's fine," Cahir tried to reassure with a wobbly smile. "I've survived worse." Which may have been true but he'd probably also been in a place with better medical supplies. The gnarly scar below his collarbone and through to his back attested to his words but Geralt didn't think it was caused by an old, rusty beartrap. If they didn't make it to Kaer Morhen soon then no amount of surviving worse injuries was going to mean anything.

Come next morning Cahir was no longer quite so chirpy. He was still and silent on the cart, Ciri sat next to him and sometimes gesturing for Geralt to look, worried that Cahir had stopped breathing. He hadn't but his deathly pale complexion wasn't giving Geralt much hope. They were still at least a day and a half out from Kaer Morhen, maybe even two because of the additional weight on the cart.

A fever peaked and fell in cycles, each time Geralt hoped it would be the last but, before long, he reached to feel Cahir's skin and winced at how hot to the touch it felt once more.

By the time they made it up to Kaer Morhen, Geralt feared it would be just a corpse for a funeral pyre that they'd be dragging in. By some miracle it wasn't. With Eskel's help he pulled Cahir off the cart, floppy as unresponsive as he was, there was still air in his lungs and an erratic heartbeat in his chest.

"What did you bring us this time?" Lambert teased before getting a better look and his grin turned into a frown. "Well shit. I'll get Vesemir."

It took three days before Cahir was declared out of immediate danger. Geralt spent a lot of it down in the infirmary, sitting next to him. The others could start Ciri's training and Jaskier was no doubt pleased to get to spend time with Eskel again. It left Geralt in the quiet, watching over someone who he had convinced himself he hated. But this wasn't the person he'd conjured up in his mind. Barely older than Jaskier had been when they met, Cahir didn't look like he had any youthful optimism or naivety.

"I'm sorry." Geralt murmured, watching as Cahir slept, breath a little less thready. He should have been better. Shouldn't have judged, not when he was on the other end of so much of it himself.

By the time Cahir roused, everyone had settled into their winter routine. Ciri trained most days, reading tomes Vesemir left her when it got too cold for the outside obstacle course. It left Geralt free to sit with Cahir, watching as glazed eyes opened, unseeing. The worst thing was, not once did Cahir cry out for someone or reach for an invisible source of comfort. In all his years Geralt rarely found someone so lonely. Even Lambert, in his training days, had called out for his mother and, of late, for Aiden. It was a struggle to believe Cahir had nobody.

"Why?" The first word from cracked dry lips and Geralt jumped. He grabbed a wet rag and dabbed it against Cahir's lips, squeezing a little water into his mouth.

"Why what?" There were a lot of questions Cahir could have and Geralt wasn't a mind reader. He startled when a weak hand clasped around his wrist, keeping his hand close. It felt all too natural to take the rag in his other hand so he could cup Cahir's sunken cheek.

"You stayed."

Something told Geralt this wasn't something Cahir had encountered before and it broke his heart. Why nobody would stick around for him was baffling. Even a Witcher had more people looking out for him, he was certain. He cleared his throat, trying to think about why he stayed. It was true, he had no reason to. "I wanted to."

The soft 'oh' from Cahir pulled at something in his chest. He let Cahir tangle their fingers together shyly, looking up at him from the infirmary bed with so much awe and gratitude, Geralt didn't know what to do with it. So he sat back down into his chair and kept holding Cahir's hand. There was a lot of talking, of getting to know each other in their future. But, for now, Geralt was content to offer whatever comfort he could, vowing to be better than all those who had come before him.

[your-eternal-muse]

Use Me (pt 1)

Part 2

A/N: Hello Everyone! This is my first ever fic that I've posted on this sight. I've been obsessed with Criminal Minds and Spencer Reid since the beginning of quarentine, so might as well put the obsession to good use! I hope you like it, and I am planning on posting a part 2 within the next couple days! Enjoy! (Also, I wrote and edited this on mobile so if the formating is weird I'm sorry)

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Character/Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of abduction, nonconsensual drug use, mentions of drugs, swearing, dirty thoughts

Words: 1.6k

Beta: My good Friend Erin!

I'm burning.

My skin feels like flames are crawling up my arms and my legs shake with every uneven step I take.

Sweat coats my brow, and my stomach churns as the world spins around me.

All because of the hand resting on the nape of my neck, which belongs to the unsub dubbed "the wizard" by the public.

He has a habit of abducting women, injecting them with some weird mix of drugs, and leaving them to fend for themselves.

Only one has been fatal.

Let's hope that statistic stays that way.

He pushes me forward, and I only vaguely know where we are.

My mind is in shambles, able to think about one thing and one thing only.

Spencer.

Every inch of him is infecting my mind, making my core pulse like it never has before.

Every image that flashes through my mind creates a dirty chain reaction.

I've had fantasies before, but god, they don't come close to the ones running through my mind.

I swallow, and wrap my arms around myself.

"What did- What did you put in me, you bastard?"

He chuckled behind me.

"Something to kick your little crush on the doctor into something more. Call it a love potion."

"How the fuck-"

But I wasn't able to finish my sentence before he shoved me up a flight of stairs.

I trip, falling onto my knees, my palms digging into the stone of the steps.

He grabs the collar of my jacket and drags me up the stairs, letting me go once we reach the top.

I slump against the railing, trying to catch my breath.

He leans down, and pins something to my shirt.

I try to focus on his face, but it's dark, and my mind won't cooperate.

"Have fun."

He stands, ringing the doorbell of an apartment, before walking away.

I try to stand, to go after him but he's gone before I can stabilize myself onto my legs.

And then I hear the door creak open, and a voice speaks out.

"Hello?"

How the hell can one word ruin me?

"Sp-Spencer?" This is hell. How can I be around him like this? How did the unsub even find out?

"Y/N? Are you okay? What happened?"

He opens the door, and the light behind him basks him in an ethereal glow.

He comes towards me, worry creasing his face as he places his hands on my upper arms.

Even through two layers of clothing, the touch alone sends sparks up my skin.

I bite my tongue to hold back a moan.

"He got me." It's hard to breathe right, with him standing so close to me. My breaths are ragged and shallow.

"He got me, and he injected me with something, and then he brought me here."

He pulls me behind him as his hand rests on his gun, which is still situated on his hip from the work day.

His eyes scan the street, and when he finds no one, he turns around, and ushers me into the building.

He's behind me, a hand placed gently on my lower back to keep me steady as he leads me towards his apartment.

God what I wish those hands would do to me.

Those long, slender fingers move faster and faster within me, curling around that pretty little spot until-

I stop, putting a hand out to steady myself against the wall, a pained moan leaving my throat. Sweat drips down my temple.

"What did he do to you?"

His eyes raked up and down my body, obviously profiling me, trying to figure out what was going on.

"I don't know." I say through gritted teeth. "But it feels like my body is on fire."

He nods, and within a few seconds we’re entering his apartment.

I run my hands through my hair and rub my face.

This isn't helping.

I'm surrounded by him.

Everytime I breathe, I can smell his musk, the natural scent of Spencer.

I shed my jacket, trying to cool off, but it only helps for a second.

The heat is radiating from inside me.

I sit on his couch and put my head in my hands, my leg bouncing as I try to distract myself from the impossible.

The leather is cool against my back, as he pushes into me, his kisses feverish, his hands roaming.

I want to cry.

This is borderline painful.

"We need to get you to the hospital."

Shit that's the last thing I need. My team, let alone anyone seeing me all hot and bothered like I've never been before.

Yeah. No.

I shake my head.

"No. God no. I know how to make it go

away, I just-"

I take a shuddery breath.

"I just need to be alone."

"I'm not leaving you, y/n. You're obviously in pain."

God fucking damnit.

He rests on his knees in front of me, and his hand lays on my lower thigh.

God, of course his hands have to be right fucking there, god damnit.

If only he knew he was making it worse.

"Can you at least explain to me what you're feeling?"

Fuck.

Double fuck.

But what the hell am I supposed to do? He's a genius, he'd figure it out eventually.

His words are laced with worry and care, and his eyes are soft.

I couldn't say no to him, even if I wanted to.

I take a breath and clasp my hands together to keep them from shaking.

"Um, I'm really hot, like really hot. Uh,"

My pussy is pulsing with every breath I take.

"I can't focus. I'm shakey."

I swallow.

"I'm thirsty."

That's the understatement of the century.

He's looking at me, but I know he's in his head, trying to narrow down what could possibly be in my system.

But my answers were vague. They could be the symptoms of any number of narcotics.

I run my hands over my jeans, and stand, walking over to his windows.

"Fuck."

If I don't tell him, he's just going to keep worrying.

Here goes nothing.

"I'm horny, okay? I'm beyond horny."

When I turn to face him, he's standing with his hands in his pockets, red covering his cheeks. "Oh."

I groan, planting my face into my hands.

"This wasn't supposed to happen, at least not like this. He found out, I don't know how but he did, and now I'm here, horny as all hell, embarrassing myself with every second that passes and-"

"What did he find out?"

I pause for a moment, going over the words that had just left my mouth.

Shit.

Play dumb.

"What?"

He walks towards me, stopping in front of me to reach up and rip something from my shirt.

"Use me."

Please don't say that right now.

He turns it in between his fingers, to show me the note.

If my face wasn't already flushed, I'm sure it would have been.

"Please, y/n, tell me."

I could cry.

I really could.

I close my eyes, not wanting to look at him when I speak it into truth.

My hands were clenched so hard, my nails were sure to leave crescent moons on my palms.

"He found out, that," I bite my lip, and groan. "He found out that I like you. A lot more than as friends, okay? I don't know how but he did.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, before crossing my arms and staring at the ground.

"When I asked him why, he said it was to kick my crush on you into something more." I scoff, shifting my weight from foot to foot. "He called it a fucking love potion."

It's silent in the room.

I can hear the seconds pass by the clock resting on his wall.

I can feel his eyes on the side of my face.

"Let me help you."

His voice is soft, yet louder than I was expecting, and his fingers trail lightly up my arm.

That's when I look at him.

I shake my head.

"No. No, I can't let you do that. That's not fair to you. You're only doing because you feel like you have to and I can't do that t-"

"Y/n," his hand comes up to cover my mouth, and his eyes are darker than I've ever seen them.

God is it hot.

He wears a small smirk where his smile used to sit, and when he speaks, his voice is lowered.

"I wouldn't have offered if I didn't want to, now would I?"

It wasn't a question like he had phrased it, oh no. It was a statement. One that told me he wanted it just as much as I did.

If you had told me this morning, that by the end of the night, I would have Spencer Reid offering to fuck drugs out of my system, I would have laughed in your face.

But right now, it was taking everything in me not to jump his bones.

His hand moves from my mouth, his fingers brushing hair out of my vision, tucking it behind my ear.

I stare, wide eyed at him, hands shaking as I reach up and wrap my hand around his wrist.

"Is that what you want me to do? You want me to fuck it out of you?"

I know this is exactly what the unsub wants.

I know we're falling right into his trap.

But god damn it, I want this too.

I want this so bad.

This is my decision.

I nod my head.

"Use your words."

I didn't realize I was holding my breath until I nearly gasped, "Yes, I want you to fuck me."

"Good girl."

[remusmainhoe]

sirius x reader

warning:smut, language.

not sure what it is, I wanna say friends, to lovers, but really I just got carried away. I hope you love it, I had fun writing it.

I was laying on the grass, near the black lake. The sun shined on the water, the warm breeze lifting the pages of my book, my mother had gotten me about medicine since she worked at st. Mungos, but I always preferred the greek mythology books my dad had left me. I saw him from a distance, sitting down on the grass, sheltered by the shade of a tree, his back relaxed against the bark. Two other girls near him were giggling at each other, stealing glances of him every now and then, their cheeks flushed with anticipation for his attention. Even from a distance, I could make out his face, unbothered by the girls, his dark, smooth hair dancing in front of his face every now and then. His eyes remained closed, his mouth carved into that faint grin he wore so much. James was next to him, his mouth moving, grasping the snitch before it got too close to freedom, and letting it go once more. Seeing how James ran a hand through his jet black hair, careful enough to leave it perfectly messy. Remus crouched down on the floor, eyes hungrily reading every word of the paper in front of him. A strand of his sandy brown hair on his face gone ignored, his hands grasping his quill, focused. Peter was watching James, as his hands clasp around the snitch for the 100th time.

I couldn’t help catching a glimpse of the boy, feeling like the other girls whose eyes also felt what I could only describe as a magnetic pull toward him. To me, he felt like a flame, you could appreciate it, and regard it as precious, but you know better than to get too close. I try to peel my eyes off him, staring back at the book in my lap. When my eyes tired of the words on the page that no longer meant anything, I looked up again only to find those piercing eyes staring back. The corner of his mouth lifting, flashing his teeth, his calculating eyes refusing to let me go. I tear away from him, refusing to give in. I stand up, picking up my things, and make my way back to the Gryffindor tower, rushing up the stairs to my dormitory. I laid in bed, refusing to acknowledge the way he made me feel. The butterflies that swarmed through my body, the warm feeling in my chest, because no one can have this much control over me. Falling asleep that night, his eyes being the last thought before I fall asleep, and my first thought when I wake up.

Waking up slowly, getting out of bed, taking the morning air deeply, letting it feel my lungs, and hoping it could erase that feeling he made me feel. The great hall filled with the first light of the day, my lids heavy as I sit down at the Gryffindor table. The table slowly filling up with students fueling up for the days' classes. I ate my breakfast in silence, lightly listening to the words the other girls were gossiping to me. When I felt those piercing eyes on me again, not wanting to believe my own senses, I ignored them. Lessons that day went by blandly and slowly, I plopped down on my chair in the astronomy tower at midnight. Opening my book to get ready for the lesson, I felt someone sit down next to me, I glanced quickly to see who it was.

“I hope this seat wasn’t being saved for someone else,” he says, clearly noticing the confusion on my face.

“Um, no, it's ok” I sputter out, he flashed another smile in response, in turn making those damn butterflies return, I fight the slight heat in my cheeks.

Before anything else can happen, the professor calls things into order, starting the lesson for the day. Any of the tiredness that I felt, fluttered away. the professor assigned us to fill a star chart of the different constellations with a partner.

“Well, what do you say, partner?” He said turning his body to my attention, certainty in his voice.

I had known him enough to know the charade he performed with other girls, making them stutter slightly, making their cheeks hurt with the smile he would cause. I was certainly not one to judge, for who could blame them? The way that he moved in a way that felt effortlessly yet still carried some precision, the way his words came out of his mouth like honey. The most frustrating thing that made it difficult to forgive him for the effect he had, was that he knew he was goddamn gorgeous, and he liked to see the effect he could have.

“I say, I'm tired, and I wanna get this over with,” I said, surprising myself.

His eyes flickered with something, his shitfaced grin refusing to leave. He turned to his telescope and started to get to work. His hand fidgeting with his quill, his other hand gracing the telescope. I turned my head back to my telescope, observing Perseus, Studying the made-up lines I imagined connecting the stars, picturing Perseus ‘the hero’ with his sword and shield. I started plotting the dots on the chart, his hand hovering on the paper before getting to work on another part of the sky. I then saw Canis Major, which wasn’t that hard to find due to the brightest star ‘Sirius’. Remembering the books I read on the stories and mythology of the stars. Picturing Laelaps the dog that always caught whatever it hunted. sent to hunt the Teumessian fox, a fox that could never be caught. Realizing that they were doomed to be the hunter and the hunted for eternity, Zeus turned them both to stone then placed them in the sky as the constellations Canis Major (Laelaps) and Canis Minor (the Teumessian fox). The irony, of course, is that they continue the chase in an eternal hunt, with Canis Minor rising in the winter skies about an hour before Canis Major, I couldn’t help but smile.

“Did you find a man on the moon or something?” Sirius’s voice pulling me back to the astronomy tower.

“Hmm?”

“You’re smiling at the stars” he pointed out, his eyes full of intrigue.

“Oh, it's nothing, I just like the constellations and the myths and stories they carry,” I explain focusing once more and filling out the star chart we were almost finished with.

“Like what?” He asked leaning closer as if it were a deep secret only he was to hear.

“Well… I like the pegasus,” I said drawing it on the star chart “The winged horse, in Greek mythology, used by Zeus to carry thunder and lightning,” I said not being able to hide an amused smile.

“ the stories become a bit tangled though, there are different stories about each of them…” I continued “like the birth of Orion, one story tells how his father was a poor shepherd called Hyrieus. Once, Zeus, Hermes, and Poseidon stopped by Hyrieus’ house. Hyrieus was so generous with his guests that he killed the only animal he had - an ox. Hyrieus was not aware that his guests were gods. The gods wanted to reward Hyrieus’ generosity by granting him a wish. Hyrieus’ biggest desire was to have a child. The gods told him to bury the hide of the bull he had sacrificed to them and to pee on it. After nine months, a boy was born in that place. The child became a very handsome and strong man. He became a very good hunter and threatened to kill all of the wild animals of the world, however, Gaia the mother of all animals was not pleased with his intention. Gaia set a giant scorpion on Orion, who soon realized that’s strength and sword were useless against the mighty Scorpio. Orion tried to escape, but was stung and placed in the stars along with the Scorpio set to chase him forever as a reminder from Gaia to protect the environment.” I stopped talking, realizing that who I had been ranting to. Instead of looking up to see a look of boredom, and annoyance that I was expecting to see, I was met with those eyes, laser-focused on me, his body slightly leaned in my direction.

“I told you, it's nothing, just random shit I think about” I dismiss it trying to not get sucked into his gaze.

“Is that we read so often outside near the lake?” He asked, not looking away from me.

“Among other things” I respond, before can think about it, I say “why do you care?”

He looked at me for a moment, “I don't” he said, and leaned back in his chair for a few minutes staring at the sky. Our star sheet laid out completed, and minutes to spare.

“But let's say I do,” he said leaning back toward me swiftly, his scent gracing my nose, my lungs filling lightly with cologne, leather, and cigarettes.

“Ok, humor me.” I say “what could Mr. popularity possibly have to care about? Apart from his hair”, I say, this time keeping eye contact.

“What do you have against my hair?” He said in the mocked offense.

“Nothing” I answer with slight sarcasm, slightly holding my hands up in defense.

I don't know what made me feel the need to not let him get to me. Hogwarts, although a big castle, I would always see how the girls would spoil him with love, and attention. I’ve read enough books, I don't want to be the “I'm not like other girls” bullshit, but I'm not gonna let him play his little game of cat and mouse.

He paused for a moment before speaking again, “well I just think that any book that can keep you from stealing glances at me, must be one hell of a book”

“Well, you think mighty big of yourself” I choke out a laugh, “you know, for a second there you had me,” I say without missing a beat.

“Is that so?” He countered.

Before I can say more, the lesson ends, I grab my things not trusting myself to say more. Getting to my dorm room, my head infected with him. His grin plastered on his face, with those eyes that see right through anyone. I'm not angry with what he said, it's what he made me feel that terrified me.

The next day, I sat at the Gryffindor table having breakfast, when I felt someone sit next to me. I turned and saw him sitting there, a bit further from his groupie.

“What are you doing over here,” I asked out of pure reflex.

“It is a free country” he responded as he served his breakfast.

“Yeah… sorry” he hadn’t done anything wrong, and it wasn’t my business, even if it was weird to see his hip separated from James. We ate in silence and headed to our first class, transfiguration, the moment I took my seat, he plopped down next to me.

“Ok, what’s your game here?” I ask him, frustrated that I even have to fight back a grin playing at the corner of my mouth. If he noticed, he didn’t say so.

“Nothing,” he said innocently. The class began, and we were assigned to transform bunnies into slippers. I managed to make some hoping slippers, with a tail at the back, Sirius chuckled at them.

“Don't judge them” I said, not even realizing I was smiling.

“I'm sorry,” he says, poorly hiding his amusement.

“Why don't you try it then” I challenge looking at his bunny.

“Ok, fine” he shrugged, with a swish of his wand, his bunny turned into a pair of slippers you would probably only find at a high-end store. “I could give you a lesson if you want” he teased.

“You know, one day you’re going to need slippers that jump,” I said catching my slippers, and transforming them back into the fluffy bunny.

The classes after that, he sat next to me, at first I thought he would come back to his senses and go back to his group, but after 2 weeks of laughing at his jokes in class, how he would pull a little prank, how he would know how to get me to start ranting about something, I didn’t think twice about it. He then started to sit with me in the library, and distract me from doing work. Later on, he and I would go out near the black lake where I once sat alone, I read to him the stories I held so deep to my heart. He would grasp every word of it.

It was inevitable, but after a while, I started to hang out with the others too. Remus and I would revise together, James would pull me into small pranks, and I would help Peter understand some of the charms he couldn’t do.

I tried not to think about the things I would feel when I saw Sirius. How I wanted to mess up his hair just a little bit because it was too perfect. How his laughter gave me a feeling of happiness that spread to my mouth that made me smile and laugh like an idiot. How I would think about the way that his muscles moved when he practiced quidditch with James, how his face looked chiseled by the gods.

I was back in the Gryffindor common room, trying to finish as much work as I could before I realized that the common room was empty, looking up at the clock to see the hands read 3:30 in the morning. I was about to gather my things to head to my dorm and call it a night when I heard the door to the common room open. Turning around, I didn’t see anyone there, yet the door started to close on its own, the fat lady fast asleep. Before I can even process it, I hear a thump near the fireplace, and all of the sudden see Sirius on the floor, a cloak next to him. Before I can even question it, I see the scarlet red that trails on his white shirt, I felt my eyes open wide as I rush to him, my legs forming a mind of their own.

“Sirius?”

He looks up at me, “y/n.. I-“ he's cut off with a hiss of pain escaping his mouth as the blood trails down.

“Take off your shirt so I can see”

“Isn’t that a bold request” he forces a teasing smile.

“Your a wanker” I say trying not to laugh, my heart still racing. “You know what I mean”

He lifts the white shirt, if it weren’t for the gash on his torso, I could have been easily distracted by the way that his muscles moved. The way that the low light of the fireplace reflected off his skin, the way that his skin glowed from a slight sheen of sweat.

“Stay here, ill be right back,” I say getting up, he grabbed my hand before I could move.

“You can't get any help,” he said, his voice laced with panic.

“It's ok, I have some bandages in my dorm,” I said. I rushed up to my trunk and grabbed what I needed, my mother always made sure I was prepared and was eager to teach me everything she could about her work. I rushed back to the common room, kneeling next to him. My fingers slightly shaking from the initial shock. The scratch was deep, so I started to work on some charms that my mother had taught me. Sirius was laying down on his elbows. After healing the wound as much as I could, I grabbed a small towel, drowning it in water, and brushing it lightly on his dark red blood now rusting slightly on him.

“How do you know all that?” He asked, I hadn’t noticed him looking at me.

“My mum” I answered wrapping him up in bandages. “How does it feel?” I asked

“Loads better” he answered.

“You better get some rest, take the bandage off tomorrow in the morning, if it hasn’t healed completely tell me,” I said, “did you lose a lot of blood?” I asked starting to examine him to see if he was paler than usual”

“I'm ok y/n, thank you,” he said, “aren’t you gonna ask me why I was butchered, or why I'm out at 3 in the morning?” He asked.

“If you want to tell me, id be glad to hear it, but it's non of my business” I answered honestly, he looked at me relieved, “thank you, it's not really my secret to tell”. He was sitting up a lot straighter.

“I get it,” I said sincerely.

“Why are you up so late?” He asked.

“I was just working a bit, got carried away. I was on my way to my dorm when you stumbled in” I smiled.

“Yeah, sorry bout that”

“It's nothing, my mum would probably thank you for giving some medical practice” I joke.

“Glad to help. It's hypnotizing seeing you so focused.” He said

I laid in my bed that night, feeling guilt for knowing that I got so close to the flame I promised myself I wouldn’t touch, yet also feeling a sense of relief that he was ok.

The next morning I sat in the morning, not being able to help myself, wanting to know how he was. He came downstairs, the look of surprise evident in his eyes at seeing me waiting for him.

“Y/n,” he said.

“Hey, sorry, I just wanted to know if you were ok”

“Yeah, It's healed” he answered making sure only I could hear him.

“That’s good… well I just… I just wanted to make sure”

“Thank you again,” he said, taking a step closer.

His eyes were piercing right through me, his hand hovering slightly over mine. I leaned up and kissed him, my hand over his jaw, my lips on his, my tongue tasting him like a drug I never knew I was sober from. His lips welcoming me, I snapped back into reality and pulled away, his eyes still close leaning in my direction.

“I'm sorry… I … sorry” was all I could spit out, I made my way back to my dorm feeling like a fool for thinking that a guy like Sirius would like me, that he regarded me any more different than the other girls that touched those same lips. I had been stupid, I had burned my house I worked so hard to protect, on that flame yet what scared me was that I would do it again. His hand grabbed my wrist. before I knew it, those lips met mine again, but this time they were prepared. He pulled apart just enough to speak.

“I want you y/n”

“You already have me”

I couldn’t even think about how stupid I was being, how cheesy this all was, because when his hands lingered on my waist as his lips enraptured me all thoughts and common sense went out the window. Up in his dormitory he closed the door, we both knew everyone would be in lessons. My hands tangled in his hair finally getting a chance to mess it up. His hands sliding my shirt off as he unclipped my bra, and I took his shirt off, and he pulled down my skirt, I slipped out of my shoes. For a moment he looked at me, revealed for him, exposed.

“My merlin you’re even more gorgeous than I thought,” he said breathlessly. I could feel myself blush, he started to massage my breasts, and I let out a moan. I unbuckled his belt and felt him hard for me. All this time I thought he was in control, yet he felt the same things I felt. I slipped a hand removing his trousers enough to relieve him a bit, he let out a low growl and I throbbed. He moved my panties, starting to draw circles on my clit making me unravel. I laid on his bed, pinned down beneath him, he stretched me out, and I let out a gasp of pleasure. His mouth began to play with my nipples, placing hickeys everywhere because I was his. I bit down a moan.

“Don't hold it back love, I wanna hear you scream” he said in my ear. His movements making the pleasure in my abdomen build-up, but I knew he would tell me when I could cum for him.

“Sirius” his name coming out of my lips like water.

“Cum for me darling”