#brotherly concern

[hathorneheiress]

Grayson Hawthorne sickfics pt.1

This was a request from @noth1in1g and I am honored to do it.

I am going to switch POVs so I hope it is not to confusing.

Grayson's POV.

My day started like any other day. I wearily climbed out of my plush, king sized bed to my closet in the other room. I was always tired, never seeming to get enough sleep, but I was even more so today.

I pulled a thirty-thousand-dollar, jet black suit from off it's hanger. I slipped into it as easily as most people do a seat shirt and jeans. Going through my usually morning rituals of brushing my teeth, combing my hair, and shaving.

Staring at myself in the over sized mirror in my enormous bathroom, I noticed how red my face looked. I felt hot, which was no surprise since I am always hot. Placing the back of my hand to my burning forehead, I knew I had a fever.

Ignoring my aching limbs and feverish body, I proceeded downstairs to breakfast.

Everyone was already seated in the massive dining room. Hardly hungry, I nevertheless picked a few things and sat down.

Nibbling on a strawberry, I listened as Avery and Jameson talked about what they were planning to do for the day.

"I just know there is more secrets left to be found Heiress. I'm sure they're hidden in the walls."

"Really Jameson. We have checked several times and have found nothing."

"Well I am not giving up."

I drowned out their conversation. Some new mystery to be solved and both were eager to solve it first. They tried to pull me in, but I declined. I was tired of playing the old man's games.

"Are you alright?" Nash's southern drawl brought me back to reality.

"What?" I asked.

"I said are you alright? You don't look to good. Did you get any sleep last night."

I stiffened. I didn't need him babying me. "I'm fine." I replied curtly. Realizing that I wasn't going to eat anymore, I stood to leave. My legs shook and I almost fell back into my chair.

Nash cocked his head to the side. Concern appearing on his face. "Want to rectify that statement little brother?"

I bristled at his words. "No, I do not. I can take care of myself." And with that I left.

I returned to my office to get some work done. Sitting in the chair, I could feel myself getting shaker as time went on. Chills and body aches came with a sudden force. Felling sick to my stomach, I tried to stand, but my legs wouldn't move.

Trying not to panic I tried again to stand. I succeeded. I took a few steps toward the bathroom before my legs went totally out from under me. I fell, with my head banging against the floor. Everything went black.

Nash's POV

I watched as Grayson staggered out of the dining room. He was by no means alright, but I tried to respect his wishes by not interfering. He had always been like that, since he was very young. He didn't need my help. He could take care of himself just fine.

And he could, but he also needed to realize that it's ok to ask for help. Trying not to let it bug me, I joined Libby in the kitchen. For an hour we made and frosted over a hundred cupcakes.

"That was fun." I said, leaning down to give her a kiss.

"It was. We should do it more often."

"Yes." I agreed "we should." She went to go find Avery and I was left alone. My earlier concern for Grayson grew when he hadn't been seen in several hours.

I decided to check on him. Most likely it would end in him getting upset that I had to see how he was doing, but I didn't care. He was my brother and I cared about him.

I made it to his office within minutes. I knocked gently. "Gray? It's me, Nash. Are you doing alright?"

No answer. I knocked again, and then pushed open the door. I heart stopping sight lad before me.

Grayson was sprawled on the ground, still and stiff. Rushing to his side I turned him over. I chill went up my spine when I felt how hot he was. His breathing seemed fine, even though there was a small wound from where he fell.

I swooped him up in my arms, hardly realizing how heavy he actually was. Laying him gently on the soft bed, I quickly undid his collar and then got a cold wash cloth, draping it over his burning forehead.

I knew he wasn't doing well. He keeps over working himself, and now he is going to have to pay the price. I continue to cool his body with damp cloth while trying revive him at the same time.

Still nothing.

I realize it could be awhile before anything could happen. Trying not to panic, I pull out my phone.

It was time to call in reinforcements.

So part one is done. Not sure how long this will be, but I realized I wasn't going to be able to do it in one part. I hope you like it.

If you have any ideas or wishes, please let me know.

[lucifersimp]

Michael & Lucifer - Swan Song script

bonus:

more spn scripts here (+ @/spnscripthunt)

[tabellae-rex-in-sui]

18th century men be like "I'm fine with cuddling and making out with you because Rome but the SECOND you get hard, I will tell everyone and call you slurs"

Voltaire.

[badlydrawn-brostrider]

i just ate cement mr bro what do i do

BRO: Wh. Why would you eat cement. What the fuck.

BRO: Hopin' your death ain't Just or Heroic 'cuz I've got no idea how to help ya here.

[viva-la-whump]

Last chapter's up!

Hope you've enjoyed this ride! :D

Yes, I went out of order on the prompts, so shoot me. Or better yet, shoot one of them! ;) I definitely plan to.....

[reiderwriter]

Little Angel

Pairing: Spencer Reid × virgin!fem reader

Genre: SMUT, some fluff, a little tiny smidge of angst. MINORS DNI 18+

Summary: As the youngest and most innocent member of the BAU, they all take care of their little angel. When they find out just how innocent you are, though, one member takes his possession to the next level. You're his little angel, and he's determined to have you.

Warnings: loss of virginity, loss of innocence, degradation, pet names, oral sex, thigh riding, fingering, cum marking, love bites, Spencer is territorial and possessive, Dom! Spencer Reid, PinV sex, mentions breeding, but he pulls out.

A/N: We've reached Day 8 of kinktober! It's our second "long" fic, meaning there's a bit more plot to this, and the smut scene is longer too (WC is almost 7k!) I hope you love this one just as much as I did... The kinktober masterlist can be found here, and my regular masterlist is here too! If you want something specific, my requests are open ❤️

Your first three months with the BAU were a blur, and for good reason. Endless cases, back-to-back, interrupted only by the slight hint of a weekend or the ever possible death row interview. You were tired, stressed, and afraid to walk home alone at night, and absolutely satisfied. As far as you were concerned, it was all worth it to get these monsters off the streets, to help save their victims and to find out what made them tick. There was nothing else you'd rather be doing. 

The team had helped you settle in well, too. You'd joined the team after Alex Blake had left - she'd recommended you actually from the college seminars you'd taken with her. You were obviously lacking a bit of experience, so they took on two team members, and you and Kate Callahan had the great opportunity of both being the newbie. But you had a slight disadvantage of age, coming in as the youngest member of the team. You thought that might be why you'd settled in so well, in all honesty. 

Hotch and Rossi were both protective in a fatherly way. Hotch pushed you and Rossi encouraged you and that was everything you needed from them. A strong pat on the back at the end of a case and a "you did good, kid," and whatever hell they'd pushed you through, it was worth it. Morgan's tough love was brotherly, but he did a great job at getting you to relax on and off the case, reminding you to not take the work home. JJ and Kate were great mentors. It wasn't easy being women in the FBI, let alone the unit that specifically looked into some of the most misogynistic killings, rapes and abductions in the world. They both gave you tips about how to handle condescending officers, and JJ had held your hair back after you'd puked your guts up on a particularly harrowing day in the field. With Penelope, friendship was easy, and you loved talking to her about whatever hyperfixation you were on that week, loving that there was someone on your team that had filled their life with genuine joy in the face of so much horror. 

And Spencer. Honestly, you were beginning to think that you'd used Spencer as a human stuffed toy a bit too much. 

You don't know how it happened at first, just that after one of your first few cases, you'd been so elated to find a victim alive, safe but traumatised, that you'd thrown yourself into his arms the minute you got back to the precinct. 

"We did it, I thought she was going to be dead, Spencer but she isn't." Your head was pressed into his chest, you were almost surprised he even heard them, muffled as they were. If you weren't so elated, you'd have noticed the way he'd stiffened at your touch, panicking slightly before awkwardly wrapping his arms around you, too. But you pulled away before you could notice that he wasn't really used to any physical comfort, bouncing off to write up your case report. 

Spencer noticed, though. Noticed how the heat of your body made him feel comforted, the way his heart rate increased to 125 BPM from it's base rate and didn't fall back to normal for another half hour. He noticed that you smelt like jasmine and patchouli, and more importantly, he noticed that he didn't really care if you touched him, and that was new. 

It became a kind of ritual for you, finding him after a case and folding into his arms to celebrate. They were friendly hugs, after all, a sign that you'd been through hell together, and you'd made it through like avenging angels. They only lingered longer when the cases went badly. You turned to crying in his arms after you'd discovered the body of a dead street girl, Veronica, in pieces in the house of an unsub who'd committed suicide by cop moments earlier. 

"I told her she'd be safe if she talked to us, Reid. I told her we'd protect her, that I'd protect her." You were so hurt by that failure that he'd had to drive you home that night, holding your hand the entire way so you didn't feel so alone, left to fester in your guilt. 

The rest of the team had begun teasing you about the hugs, but you'd brushed them off. You hugged everyone else too, and you knew for a fact that Penelope hugged every member of the team, so there was nothing special going on between you and Spencer. No one had deigned to inform you of Spencer's germophobia and aversion to touch. 

"Gonna tell me what that's all about?" Morgan asked Spencer as you bounced away from a hug one day, leaving to remove your FBI vest. 

"What what's all about?" He replied coldly, turning away to remove his own vest, replacing it with his blazer. 

"What, you don't have a statistic for how many germs are passed between people during a hug, Kid, come on, you were practically smelling her hair." The older man's eyebrows raised in a question again, but Spencer continued to blow him off. 

"I hug people all the time, it's not a big deal." He shrugged. 

"It took you four years to return one of Penelope's hugs, and you still only do that on special occasions. That's not all the time." 

"Derek, just drop it. There's nothing going on, she just… She just does it sometimes." 

It was when you'd hugged him in the middle of the office, without a case to use as an excuse, that you noticed an underlying tension in the office. You were all celebrating, of course, Callahan had just announced her pregnancy, and you were all so happy for her. You'd heard the happy news and instantly turned and thrown yourself into Spencer's arms. Even you weren't sure why, not even questioning it until you saw the awkward glances on the other profilers' faces. You brushed it off by rushing to give each of them hugs, and running out in a mad flush, needing air, or water or something to get you out of what was looking more and more like an interrogation room. 

A few cases later, the entire team headed to O'Keefe's to celebrate. 

"To another case successfully solved," Morgan toasted, and you all joined him, lifting your glasses in triumph. 

"To the wonders of non-alcoholic beer," chimed in Kate, leaving you all laughing together. The booth was small, and as usual, you'd found yourself sat right in the arms of Spencer Reid. You hadn't intended it, honestly, having slightly avoided him recently, but you'd followed Penelope into her side of the circular table, and Reid had followed you. You were sat squished between them, your arms resting awkwardly on your lap between drinks. 

"Okay, a night of drinking is slightly boring without some games to spice things up, what do you say, hot chocolate?" Penelope said, addressing Morgan who was on her other side. 

"I'm all ears, baby girl. What were you thinking?" 

"How about twenty questions? We already know a lot about each other, let's see what we don't know?" Kate suggested, thriving off of the knowledge that as the sole sober member present, she'd hold all the cards tomorrow. 

"What, how is asking questions a game?" Reid questioned jokingly from beside you. "That's just an interrogation or a therapy session, there's no winner or loser."  

Already slightly buzzing from your drink, you turned to him and out your fingers in his lips, shushing him. 

"No time for logic in matters of the bottle, Spencer. Let's play." He pulled your fingers off him, but nodded, holding them in his grip still as you turned back to the table. 

"I'll start! JJ, are you and Will thinking of having more baby LaMontagne's?" Penelope jumped at the chance to probe her teammate, and you laughed at her enthusiasm. 

"There have been discussions, but I'll not confirm or deny yet." JJ said, taking a sip of her drink as she slyly avoided a direct answer. 

"I always forget why you were so good with the press, Miss No Answers. Okay, your turn to ask a question." 

"Okay, Morgan. Are you thinking of popping the question to Savannah anytime soon?" 

"Did she send you?" He laughed and took a drink. "If I do, she'll be the first to know." 

The game went back and forth like this for a few rounds before Penelope turned the spotlight back to you. 

"Okay, Y/N. You were a college student recently, I know you've got some wild stories. Where's the craziest place you've ever done it?" You knew Penelope didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. She was just an open person. 

But you shifted in your seat nonetheless, trying to figure out if you could answer or even if you would. Your tongue was a bit looser than you expected though, because before you could even finish thinking you just blurted it out. 

"Nowhere." 

The others blinked at you slightly before Penelope dived in with another question. 

"Is that Nowhere, Oaklahoma, or you're just not having sex in crazy places?" 

"No. I'm not… I'm not having sex. Period. Never have." You felt yourself shrink as the other members of the team awkwardly apologised for probing you so much. Really it wasn't that big of a deal, and it wasn't as if you were saving it for religious or moral reasons. But you'd not been the most popular teenager, and you'd started studying serial killers and sociopaths so early that you really hadn't wanted to get so intimate with someone else like that. 

Unbeknownst to you, Spencer's grip on his own drink had tightened ever so slightly, his heart race had picked up again, and suddenly the hand that was holding yours suddenly let you go, quietly dropping your fingers like they were glowing cinders, and he was dripping in gasoline, waiting to ignite. 

Lust. He felt sick with himself for the images that were suddenly flashing through his mind now that he knew you'd never been held in that way, trying not to fantasise about you underneath him, holding him, begging him, feeling all of him. He took another swig of his drink and politely excused himself to get another as he let himself catch some air, as the sudden realization that he wanted you - and had wanted you for quite some time now - finally hit him.

The next couple of weeks were normal, and you were thankful to have that discussion behind you. No one treated you differently, acted like you were more of a child than before, asked you how your dating life was or set you up on blind dates, which was really refreshing actually. You'd let some friends know previously, and that's all they'd done, surprised that you could live ignorant to wonders of sex without shrivelling up and dying. 

The only thing that was different was Spencer. And that wasn't really difference so much as growing more comfortable with each other. He'd rest his hand on the small of your back now in support sometimes, or have a hand slung over the back of your chair when sitting together. He was constantly at your side, especially if you were around male suspects or officers who'd taken a bit of a ballsy approach. 

You liked it, probably a bit too much. You gravitated towards him in a room filled with people, and found yourself hugging him more often, when you left a room, when you entered one, when he looked like he needed it. Which, recently, was all the time. A month went by with this increased comfort level, and soon you found yourself feeling wrong if his hands weren't on you. 

He stood close to you all the time, and you noticed the stares you were getting from everyone else. A few officers who'd approach you would apologise to him when they noticed him at your back, hand on your hip as he pulled you away. 

After one case, you could even swear that you felt more than him than you were expecting. He'd moved away slightly in between one of your hugs, but you'd pulled his arms back around you and stepped closer, pressing your back against his chest, letting your head rest on his arms. Something hard and long wedged up against your ass, and in a split second he was pulling away before you could ask him about it. He excused himself, and you felt your body burn up. It was Spencer, it was just Spencer and that wasn't because of you, it was some other reason. 

Spencer didn't know what he was doing. He grew more possessive over you by the day, and he'd honestly nearly bitten the head off an officer who asked him for your number. 

"Sorry, she doesn't have a phone." 

"But I saw her with one earlier. Look I get it she's FBI, and you guys are-" 

"Okay, so she's not interested."

"Hey, why don't you let her decide that wise guy?" 

"Oh sure, get angry I'm sure she'd love that. She's not interested, she has me." He couldn't help himself from getting in the officers face at that, and Morgan had to pull him back from the edge. 

"Wow, wow, hey, calm down." The officer stormed out, and he felt triumphant for only a second before Morgan rounded on him. 

"Whatever this thing you've got going on, Spencer, you need to get it out of your system as soon as possible." His voice was low and stern, throwing a glance over his shoulder to where you were sitting, staring confusedly through the glass at Spencer, whose eyes refused to move from your own. 

" I just wanted him to back off, she doesn't like him like that."

"No, you wanted him to back off because you've marked her like some animal marking its territory. She's not your prey, Spencer, she's our team member, now you're gonna have to get your act together and leave her alone, because we've got work to do." 

Sighing and throwing his hands through his hair again, he finally looked away from you and gathered his breath. He wanted to stop this too, this horrible perverted feeling of needing his hands on you, wanting to possess you day and night. To protect you. He just wasn't sure if he was strong enough to do that. 

The next time you all went to O'Keefe's he certainly tried. You expected him to follow you into the booth again - he didn't, sitting opposite you next to JJ. You expected him to talk to you or look at you for more than a second at a time - he didn't, avoiding most conversations entirely and keeping his eyes fixed on the bar. You certainly expected him to still be sat at the table when you returned from the bathroom, ready to slip into the seat beside him, force him to talk to you. Instead he was gone, and you scanned the rest of the bar trying to locate him. 

Something green and vile jumped you when you finally locked onto him, stood at the bar, surrounded by other women. Surrounded was maybe an exaggeration, as there were really only two of them, but they were practically draping themselves over him, and for some reason that set something alight inside of you. 

You watched them for a moment, how one of them trailed a hand up his arm as he shuddered away from their touch, the other pressing herself against the bar so her chest pushed up dramatically. The green bile in your throat carried your feet forwards, and before you knew it, you were clearing it from your throat to grab their attentions. 

"Spencer, there you are!" You brightened your tone specifically, as you locked eyes with his panicked ones. The two girls looked you up and down as you moved closer, brushing past them to climb up right into his lap on the barstool, pulling his arm around you as you pressed your ass into his crotch. 

"Are you going to introduce me to your new friends?" The smile didn't reach your eyes as you let your back rest against his chest comfortably, watching the women to see their reactions. The one touching him pulled her arm back instantly, and the other readjusted her dress before they both left silently, carrying their glasses back to wherever they came from. 

You watched them leave a little triumphantly before the green faded, and you realised what you had done. 

"Y/N…?" His voice was hesitant in your ear, and you shivered slightly before pushing off of him. 

"I'm so sorry, Spence, it just- it… looked like you were hard." You panicked again, pushing closer to him. "No, like you were in a hard situation, not that you were," your hand accidentally dropped to his crotch as you spoke your final words: "Hard."

He twitched beneath you as you finally looked down to where your hand was, as his mouth opened to say something. 

"Y/N…" was all you heard before you turned around, and fast walked to the entrance, picking your bag up quickly on the way, and then sprinted the second the cold air hit your face. 

You cursed yourself inwardly as you ran the three blocks more to your apartment, thankful that you were at least in walking (or apparently running) distance. What the hell had you been thinking? Practically sexually harassing one of your coworkers like that, grabbing his dick, albeit accidentally. 

You slammed your door shut behind you, leaning against it and sliding to the floor as you finally accepted that whatever this was with Reid, it wasn't friendship for you anymore. And you weren't sure if it had ever been. 

With your head between your legs, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, you started replaying each moment with him, each touch from the very first. How even the memory of a brush past you could excite a fire in your heart, a heat between your legs growing by the second. 

You wanted to crawl pathetically into bed and not think about him until the next morning at work,  but fate, or Doctor Spencer Reid, had other plans. 

The knock at your door was sudden and incessant, the banging starting loud, and staying consistent until you tentatively pulled it open. 

He was stood there, chest heaving, looking down at you, sweat coating his forehead. 

"Can I… Come in?" He asked, and you nodded, too stunned at his sudden appearance to tell if this was real or just your fantasy becoming a little too realistic. 

He thanked you for letting him inside, and you showed him inside, guiding him to he couch, where you took a seat opposite him. 

"I wanted to make sure you were okay, you left in a rush and…" He trailed off, eyes flicking down to your lips. His Adam's apple bobbed with his swallow, and you watched it yourself, trying to avoid meeting his eyes, as if you were a schoolgirl about to get in trouble with a disappointed teacher. 

"I'm okay." 

"Okay, that's great, that's… Great." His breaths caught up to him, and he took another deep breath and a swallow before continuing. "How about we continue that game from last time. Twenty questions?" 

You'd do anything to stop him walking out of that door, but you felt too shy to touch him again, even in the friendly ways you were used to, so you eagerly accepted. 

"Yes, that… That sounds fun, thank you." 

"Okay. Question one. Do you know why I'm here?" He asks as he shifts closer to you, still not touching, but at a proximity where it would be natural to accidentally brush against one another. 

"N-No. But I might have an idea." He nodded at your response before moving on to his next question. 

"Question two. Are you a virgin?" He didn't trip or stumble over the words, pushing them out slowly and delicately so as not to offend. 

"Yes." The lump in your throat was thick, almost as if he'd put something there that you couldn't help but choke on. 

"Question three. Do you want to remain a virgin?" 

You shook your head no, following it with your voice seconds later as he stood up from his seat, putting some distance between you. 

"Question four. Do you feel intoxicated or drunk right now?" He held himself still as you sat on the very edge of your chair, desperate to feel his hands on you now. 

"No, I only had one sip at the bar before…" He held up a hand to silence you, and you did. 

Question five. Answer me honestly. Do you like it when I touch you?" 

"Yes." Your breath was a whisper, but it was breathy, sounding almost pornographic in your neediness. 

"Question six. Do you like it when other people touch you?" 

"Do you?" His head snapped back to yours, and you froze under his gaze. "Not as much." You answered and relaxed again, pouting slightly at his lack of answer. 

"Question seven. Do you like me touching other people?" He took a step closer to you again with this question, but you continued pouting as you shook your head. 

"No. I don't." His lips quirked upwards before he could stop them, but he gathered himself together again. 

"Question eight. Do you want me to leave?" You met his eyes at that question, taking one good, hard, long look at him. You noted the tensed jaw, the clenched fists, his stiff body language, trailing your eyes over him before looking him directly in the eyes. 

"No." You let the word hang on your tongue, pulling it out a bit longer than was necessary as you watched him take in a shaky breath. 

"Question nine. Do you want me to come over there and kiss you?" 

"God, yes." He was on you in seconds, restraints gone, throwing himself back at you as his lips collided with your own. Virgin you may be, but you'd kissed men before, and it had been nothing like this. 

His hands trailed up to your hair, tipping your head back slightly so he could gain better access. He bit your lip and thrust his tongue into your mouth when you gasped, so eager to consume every part of you whole. 

You'd never felt like this before. 

He pulled away, and you tried desperately to chase his lips, even as your lungs begged you to stop. 

"Last question," he whispered in the space between you, holding the sides of your face at a distance so neither of you could be tempted to dive in for a second kiss, or a third, or fourth. "Do you want me to fuck you?" You whimpered at his words, nodding furiously as you tried to lunge at him again, but he held you firm. 

"I need you to say your answer, baby. I need to hear your consent, okay?" You nod again and open your mouth, eyes never leaving his lips as you moan out a definitive "yes."

Instead of letting your lips fall against his again, he lunges for you, grabbing your legs and hauling you up into his arms, carrying you bridal style all the way back to your bedroom. 

"Gonna do it right," he mutters to himself as he throws you down on the bed, pulling back to take off his jacket and unbutton the cuffs on his shirt, rolling the sleeves up meticulously. 

"I'm going to take care of you, Y/N, okay?" You nod at him and flush, suddenly feeling the strength of his need for you as he holds himself back. He puts his hands on you again, gently coaxing your legs apart, pushing your skirt up over your hips. Reflexively, you move your hands over yourself, covering your sensitive places with your hands. 

"Don't cover yourself." His voice is strong, deep, as he orders you, and you let your arms drop back to your side. He traces his hands up and down your legs, almost as if he were memorising every inch of your skin, how you felt under his hands. 

His hands make their way up to your panties, and you watch with baited breath as he moves you, pulling your hips up so he can let them fall down. The lace material tickles you as he pushes them past your thighs, over your knees and finally off your legs entirely, balling them up and putting them in his pocket. 

"I'm going to touch you now, okay?" He asks it like a question, but he doesn't wait for your answer, unable to hold himself back before diving straight between your legs, so desperate to taste you that he's deaf to everything else. 

His tongue connects with your sensitive area first, tracing up and down at a steady pace as his legs half-heartedly push your legs open. It's almost as if he's enjoying the pressure of your legs wrapped around him, suffocating between your thighs as he feels your pleasure build, and build. 

Eventually he pushes your hips further apart, letting himself push his face into even more of you, his tongue entering your hole as he begins fucking it in and out of you, fingers coming back up to your clit to keep up the pressure there. 

"Spencer, please, please, fuck." 

"I love it when you beg for me like a needy little slut," he whispers, holding your legs apart as he looked up at you, face slick with your arousal. Your mouth drops wide at his words, and he immediately begins to retract them. 

"I'm sorry, Y/N, if that was too far, I just got caught up -" 

"I liked it." You said, quieting him as you spread your legs a bit further apart, begging for him to continue. He smiled and dived right back in, bringing his other hand up under your dress, all the way to your chest as you kept your legs open yourself. 

He sucked your clit into his mouth, lapping up all the juices you were releasing as you moaned underneath him, bucking into his face at the memory of his degradation. 

You were a needy little slut, and you needed him to make you cum. He was more than happy to oblige. 

He kept you there for what felt like forever, drinking you in for as long as he could. You orgasmed twice before he finished, completely overstimulated by the way he was desperately fucking you with his mouth. 

He was obsessed with you, with your scent, your taste, with being the first ever person to ever touch you like this, to fuck you, to make you feel so good. Without him even realising, you're pushed to the brink for a second time, shuddering under the heat of his mouth as he drinks you in. 

He finally pulls his head up again, coming up for air as you're twitching under him. 

"Perfect, baby, so perfect for me." His lips fall down to your own, and suddenly you're tasting yourself on his tongue. It's hypnotising, and despite the pleasure you've just received, you need more, desperate to feel him on you again. 

When he pulls his mouth away, he replaces himself with his fingers, pushing them into your mouth. 

"Suck," he says and you listen, as he watches the way you lick yourself off of him. 

He unzips your dress with his free hand, carefully pulling your arms out of the sleeves and pushing your dress off your body. You trace your tongue around every ridge of his fingers, leaving no inch undiscovered. He moved you to pull the dress of, and you graciously followed, letting him do whatever he wanted to you. 

"Nice little slut, tasting herself on my fingers?" He whispered when you were finally bare, pulling his fingers from your mouth, letting the trail of spit hang between you as you moaned. 

He removed himself from over you, and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. 

"Come here. Come and sit on my lap." 

You cautiously followed his directions. You'd thought that he'd fuck you then, after spending so long getting you ready, but apart from his tie, which he was in the middle of discarding as you crawled over to him, he hadn't derobed any further. 

"That's it baby, come and sit yourself down right here." He pat his thigh and you crawled over, lowering yourself down onto his clothed leg. 

"What now, Spencer?" You stuttered the words out, heart beating as you awaited his instructions. 

"Now, I want you to rock your hips back and forth. Just like this." He grabbed your hips and started moving you against his leg, pushing you down to grind into him. 

"Spencer, wait, I don't know-" 

"I do. I know you can do it, so please try. For me." You pulled you in for a kiss, and then removed his hands from you, leaving you to rock against his thigh. 

You were unsure of the movements at first, moving slowly as you dragged your aching cunt up and down the top of his pants, watching as you saw the wet patch you were making. You moaned with each movement, growing faster and more confident as you continued. 

"That's it baby, use me to get yourself off, okay? Let me see you." He whispered in your ears, pushing your sweat-slicked hair ou of your face, holding it up for you. 

"Spencer please," you don't even know what you're asking for as you beg him, feeling that familiar bubble in your stomach grow. 

"No, you can do it. You look so beautiful like this, Y/N, so desperate for my cock, huh?" You start trying to unbutton his shirt, desperate to see more of him, to feel more of his bare skin on your own. But he stops your hands and holds them against his chest. 

"You need to ask nicely first, before trying to undress me like a needy little whore." The words should sound violent, should humiliate you, but his voice is so soft you simply move faster, moaning and desperate to cum one more time. 

"Fuck, Spencer, I'm gonna… I'm gonna…" 

"No, you're not." Before you finish, he pulls you off his leg, hauling your body back onto the bed, and laying you back down on your back. You moan in disapproval, so frustrated with the lack of release that you feel tears prick the corners of your eyes. 

"Don't cry, baby. I'll give you what you want soon." He practically rips his clothes off, pulling his vest over his head, stumbling over each button and removing his belt and pants before climbing over to you. His cock finally free you take your first glance at it. 

You'd never entirely been sure how it was that the male appendage fit inside something as small as your pussy, and you were doubly unsure about how Spencer's was ever going to fit inside you. You stared at it wide eyed, as you took in the length, the girth, and the heat of it as he stroked it in one hands, pushing on top of you. 

He let go of it as soon as he was between your legs, letting it fall onto your stomach as he crawled between your legs. He trailed a finger over your lower abdomen just around where his cock was twitching against you as his other hand came up to stroke your hair. 

"You look worried, Y/N, what's wrong?" 

"Will it, um, will it fit?" You asked, knowing how cliché you sounded. 

"We've spent the last thirty-seven minutes loosening you up with foreplay. It should fit, but I can't promise it won't hurt."

"Right, if my hymen is still intact you have to…" 

"That's right. And then it's going to reach all the way in you to here," with each word, he stepped his fingers up from your clit to where the tip of his dick sat on your stomach, letting you come to terms with exactly how full you were about to be. 

"I'm going to fill you, and you're going to be mine, and I'm going to be yours. My sweet angel." He stroked your face, catching his thumb on your lips on the way down, tempted to thrust it into your mouth again, to see just how much of a whore you could be, given the chance. 

Instead, he lined himself up with your dripping core, and, making sure one last time that this is what you wanted, slowly pushed in. 

It was uncomfortable at first, having something so wholly alien inside of you, you weren't sure how to react. You wrapped your arms around him, digging your nails in, deep, as he pushed in further. 

"Y/N, I need to move more now, and it's going to hurt a little, you just have to trust me, okay?" He kissed the top of your head, but you were so lost in the sensations to answer. With one swift jerk of his hips, he pushed through your hymen, and fully sheathed himself inside of you. He pressed small kisses everywhere on your face, while whispering to you how beautiful you were. 

"You're doing so good for me angel, I'm going to take care of you. Going to make you feel so much better than this. You're so beautiful." His lips were distractingly sweet, as were his words, and soon you found yourself relaxing into him, the sharp pain of earlier fading to an electric buzz inside of you. 

You jerked your hips up to meet his, and with that, he knew you were ready. From his words, you'd assumed that he'd move slowly in you. But with one final lingering kiss to your lips, he lifted his chest up, pinned your legs tightly down, and started thrusting hard and fast. 

"Sorry, just couldn't help myself baby. Needed to see you looking ruined underneath me." Moans spilled out of your mouth with his every movement, and the orgasm you'd built up earlier hit you like a ton of bricks, blackness hazing over your eyes as they rolled back in your head. 

"Fuck, fuck, Spencer, don't stop!" You screamed at the top of your lungs, unable to control your pitch or volume as he slammed into you desperately. He was so turned on by the sight of you beneath him, so proud of having fucked away your virginity, to have given you your very first penetrative orgasm that he wouldn't have heard anything that came out of your mouth. 

His eyes were fixated at the place between you, where you joined, where he was entering you, defiling you, claiming you, using you, breeding you. 

He knew he wouldn't cum inside of you, not the first time, but it was tempting. Instead, he chose to move his lips back to your skin. He marked you with love bites and hickeys across your neck, chest and shoulders as you moaned with every roll of his hips, shuddering on his cock. He was close. And seeing you like this, displaying all the signs that you were his and his only, he finally lost it. 

Pulling his dick out of you, he stroked it through his release, spraying his seed over the parts of your skin he hadn't bruised with love. Your stomach, your breasts, hell, one spurt even landed dangerously close to your lips, he was everywhere. You. Were. His. 

He fell beside you, panting for a few moments as you finally cracked your eyes back open, realising what the two of you had just done. You wiped the cum from your face with a stray finger, staring at it for a second before licking it off your finger. 

"As hot as that was, I think we should get you cleaned up properly, angel." He spends forever cleaning you up, carrying you to the bathroom, washing your entire body with hot water and a fresh cloth, running you a hot bath to relax your muscles. You snuggle into his chest at some point in the bath, relaxing so much into him, that you drift off to sleep. 

You feel him carry you to bed, semi-conscious, tucking you in and climbing in next to you. He holds you through the night, the way he holds you after your bad cases. He holds you until he doesn't. 

You're blindsided by the cold bed the next morning. You knew he would be there, you'd felt him inside you and next to you, and you'd needed his warmth, but he was gone. You looked for him in every other part of your home, looked for a note or an explanation, but there wasn't one. 

Through tears, you got ready for work, ready to face him and make him answer why he was suddenly gone. You wanted him to apologise, especially since he'd marked you so badly the night before you looked like a car crash victim from the neck down. 

Dark lavender blossomed along your collar bones as you looked at yourself in the mirror, trailing a finger along every place that he touched the night before. 

"How could you be so stupid?" You cursed yourself. If you'd have listened to what he was saying last night, really listened, you'd have known he wasn't going to be here in the morning. He wanted to ruin you, to possess you, to take away your virginity, and he'd done just that. 

You almost wanted to keep the bruises on display going into work, to make him confront the pain he caused you by leaving. In the end, it was the inevitable stares from everyone else that convinced you otherwise. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction. 

You pushed through the doors to the bullpen and didn't bother putting your bag down before you started scanning the room for him. 

"Where's Spencer?" You practically shouted the words at Morgan, unable to hold back your anger. 

"Y/N, what's wrong?" 

"Where is he?" You demand, and there must be something in your eyes that speaks to your devastation because Morgan shuts up and just points to the top of the stairs, where Spencer is exiting Hotch's office without a care in the world. 

You don't realise that something is tears until you're beating a hand against his chest in frustration as they spill down your face. 

"Where were you?" You demand, sobbing into his chest, as he pulls your hands away. The entire office is watching your commotion, but you don't care, you're not letting him move you out of the way. 

"Y/N, I need you to sign this." His voice is calm, and you hate him for that. That he can stay so neutral when he's just broken your heart. 

"No, not until you tell me why you left." 

"Sign the papers, Y/N, trust me." He pulls your chin up so you can look him in the eye, and you catch a glimpse of the man who has been holding you, comforting you for the last four months. You snatch the pen from him and sign the papers, thrusting them back at him with a scowl. 

He smiles as he looks down at them, placing them back on his desk before pulling you in for a long, deep kiss. You're shocked at first, but you melt into it, pulling him closer so he can't leave again. 

"I'm sorry. I had to come into the office to declare our relationship, Morgan sometimes tells me I have a one track mind, and when I woke up this morning, the one thing I wanted to do was get it in writing that you were mine." 

Your push the tears out of his face, and attempt to pull him down for another kiss. You don't get the chance, as the sound of several throats clearing around you burst your bubble. 

"Public space, no canoodling." Rossi shouts down at you from the balcony, a soft smirk on his face. 

Penelope runs in from her office, and stares wide-eyed at the lack of space between the two of you. "You! And you! Security cameras….. You!"

"Now, I'm sure there's a story here, but from the state of our little angel's neck here, I'm sure I don't want to hear it." Derek laughs, smacking Spencer on the back in praise as he walks up the stairs to the meeting room. 

You slap a hand over your neck, trying to pull the turtleneck further up to hide the mark you evidently missed. 

"She's my angel, now." Spencer calls up to him. "I have the paperwork to prove it."  

[lixie-phoria]

summer sun forever (stray kids comforting their 9th member!reader)

pairing : platonic stray kids x fem!9th member reader

requested : yes

warnings - mentions of blood, description of poor parenting (lmk if i've missed any!)

genre - angst to comfort

jeongin thought it was normal, the way you would sit alone during group discussions giving your input only when asked directly.

seungmin though it was a habit, the way you would immediately pinch yourself if you made a mistake.

felix thought it was out of good nature that you would constantly appreciate his sunshine-like personality and inability to be mad for longer than a few moments.

han thought it was adorable, the way you would cover your smile while laughing at one of his jokes, trying to hold back any laugh that was louder than a giggle.

hyunjin thought it was just your strive for perfection that you would spend hours more than the other boys trying to perfect your choreographies, scared to mess up.

changbin thought it was a personal preference, the way you'd always dress up in lose clothing, rejecting anything that was too fitting.

lee know thought it was impressive, the way you could recognize any member just from his footsteps approaching your room or the way you always left one ear uncovered when using headphones.

but chan knew. or he thought he did, at least. maybe it was brotherly instincts kicking in, but he knew these habits weren't healthy. far from it. it concerned him, but he didn't know how to approach you either.

his concerns were triggered for the first time when you dropped a glass at the dorms, sharp shards scattering everywhere. you didn't notice him rush to help you as he stopped dead in the doorway of the kitchen, watching you pick up the broken pieces with bare hands. he saw the way your hands were trembling and how a particularly tricky piece sliced right through your skin, blood oozing out. you didn't even flinch, sparing the cut a small glance before you went back to cleaning the floor. you didn't bother trying to disinfect it, opting to only run it under the tap and wiping it away with a few tissues. then you crumpled them up, making sure the members wouldn't notice the red on the paper and went about your day as usual. chan waited, patiently, expecting you to bring up the injury to anyone, but you didn't, so he thought maybe it was just a small cut. maybe it was just a small wound, after all.

you would tell them if you were really hurt, right?

the second time chan notices something wrong is when you hit your upper arm at the edge of the table during dinner. it had hurt, that much he knew from the way you yelped and rubbed the sore spot. he had laughed at your clumsiness with the others as you smiled sheepishly, ducking your head and running away to your room to do who knows what. he thought he saw tears in your eyes, but you didn't mention the bruise again, so they all thought you were okay.

but chan's breaking point was when stays themselves noticed something was wrong. he was scrolling through instagram when a particular reel caught his attention. it was of their dance performance, and the fan had zoomed into your figure - specifically your upper arm - and the large reddish blue spot was so strikingly evident it took him three rewatches to make sure it was not an edit. how had any of them missed it? then another reel came up, and it was you wincing slightly as lee know jokingly shook your hand, the same one you had cut while cleaning the glass. and it's like the pieces immediately fall into place.

chan doesn't think twice. before he knows it he's out of his room and walking (more like storming) towards yours, and he doesn't bother knocking. but even then, you had been expecting him, because you're staring at the door with a small smile on your face.

"i heard you coming. is everything ok?"

it's the first time your keen observation skills concern him, but he doesn't answer, instead striding towards you and lifting your arm despite your complaints. when his eyes zero-in on the bruise that you had expertly been concealing, he sees red. he isn't sure why he's angry. it's not your fault. but he is mad, and he couldn't control it.

of course you could see it on his face, and it's like you go into auto pilot mode, snatching your arm back and immediately apologizing, making excuses that fly straight out of his ears. he tries to hold back, he really does, but he can't. and before he can stop, the damage is done.

"don't bother. you clearly don't trust us enough anymore."

in hindsight, that was probably the worst thing chan could have said to you. blaming you would only worsen things, but he's so confused and disappointed in himself. he didn't know what kept you on the edge so often, and it hurt him that you wouldn't open up.

and thus the apparent cold war began.

you weren't mad. no. far from that. you were terrified. you had disappointed chan, the one person who made you feel safe always. the one person you knew you could go to with anything. but you chose not to, and now maybe you never will be able to. and it was like you were a teenager again, crying yourself to sleep every night, cautious of every word you spoke, and jumping at the slightest raised voice.

chan wasn't mad either. he was confused. he was hurt, a little bit. and he regretted the words he had carelessly spat out. it clearly hadn't been the right approach and now it hurt him to see the way you would tense whenever he stepped into the room, not making eye-contact and apologizing profusely to everybody for the smallest mistakes.

he thought giving you space was the best option for now. but in hindsight, that was a terrible decision too. he didn't realize how angry he was coming off as. he didn't know that not just you but all the members thought he was giving you the silent treatment. and for you, that hit too close to home. literally.

"ynnie, do you want some more soup?"

felix is met with a timid yes as he happily pours you another serving. but even his bubbly smile couldn't diffuse the obvious tension in the atmosphere. the other 7 didn't know the details of what had happened. chan knew you would want to tell them yourself if you told them at all, but they knew it was bad. because now you barely smiled and chan always seemed tense.

"and salt?"

again, you only nod, reaching towards the jar he was offering, when it happens. all of a sudden. jeongin's arm brushes yours, and as his elbow pushes into your bruise, you yelp, the lid falling to the floor with a loud shattering sound.

the silence that follows immediately after is loud, and everyone notices the way you go completely still. unnaturally still, as though waiting for someone to yell at you. lee know recovers first, and as he bends down to pick up the fallen object, you flinch, and their hearts collectively shatter.

what was the matter with you lately?

before they know it, you're gulping the steaming hot soup down, hurriedly apologizing and making a bee line for your room. but this time, everyone can see the tears brimming your waterline.

nobody gets up, but nobody eats anymore either. the silence only intensifies until chan groans, burring his face in his hands.

"hey lix, you mind checking up on her? i don't think she's doing very well."

the blonde boy doesn't need to be told twice. he's making his way towards your room and when he enters, the floor slides from beneath him. you're curled up in your bed, trying to muffle your sobs that wrack through your body.

when you see him come in, your first instinct is to hide. to not show. but it's too late, because he's rushing towards you, embracing you in the warmest hug. its comforting, in a way you have never felt before, and that only spirals your break down further.

felix doesn't know what to do or say. he doesn't know what happened. he doesn't know what could make you feel better, but it's so incredibly heart breaking the way you curl up into yourself as though trying to reject any help that it brings tears into his own eyes.

it isn't long before the others come following, and when chan sees you it's like a part of him dies. you look so small, so hurt, so breakable. and deep down, he knows this could have been avoided if he'd thought twice before lashing out at you.

"yn."

his voice is soft, and when you notice him you're scrambling out of felix's grasp, and he almost thinks you're trying to get way from him. but then you're throwing yourself into his arms with apologies tumbling out along with your sobs. he tries to calm you down, running a hand through your hair, but you're inconsolable. they have never seen you cry like this before.

"calm down, angel. please. talk to me."

it's the first time chan has spoken to you in more than a week, and you hadn't realized how much you had missed it. how much his silence had been affecting you.

"please don't be mad at me." you whimper as chan guides you sit on your bed, the other 7 hovering around unsure of what to do but concern reflecting in each of their eyes.

"mad? i'm not mad, ynnie. i'm concerned."

his words come as a shock.

he's concerned?

"but i'm crying."

"that's exactly why i'm concerned."

"oh."

you've never heard these words before. you never thought you would. growing up, showing emotions was a big no. crying was almost a taboo. showing emotions was for the weak, as your parents would say. they didn't wish to raise a weak daughter. nobody ever showed you concern. it was either anger or silence.

you've run out of tears, but dry sobs still shake your body every few seconds as chan holds you closer, motioning for the rest to sit down.

"do you want to talk about it?"

you shake your head. no. you were bad at talking about your feelings. they didn't have to know. it's not that important.

"you have to open up at some point, yn."

"i don't want to burden you guys."

"burden us?"

even seungmin, who usually stays expressionless during conflicts, seems appalled.

"yn, your emotions are not a burden."

"that's not what mum used to say."

you didn't mean to say it out loud, but it slips from your mouth and they all seem to have heard it.

chan's grip on you tightens. none of them knew much about your family. you didn't like talking about it. now it was slowly coming to them exactly why this preference could be.

"you can trust us, you know? we want to be there for you."

"i do trust you."

"then why won't you tell us what's wrong."

"don't want to annoy you any further."

the guilt gnaws at chan as felix pulls you away from his grasp, snuggling you into his side.

"yn, i wasn't mad. i was trying to give you space."

"i thought you were ignoring me." and in a smaller voice you reluctantly add "like my parents used to. everytime they were mad."

even han is somewhat misty eyed as felix runs calming circles against your upper arm.

"we would never give you the silent treatment."

"yeah! we love you way too much for that."

"is that why you're so closed off?"

"changbin! you can't just ask her that."

you giggle tiredly, earning a small smile from chan.

"it's alright. i'm glad you asked binnie. i think i'm ready to tell you guys."

they're all attentively waiting, and you shift uncomfortably. you never thought you would have this conversation.

"growing up, my parents didn't encourage me to express myself very much. i wasn't allowed to make mistakes, and if i did, they would give me the silent treatment for days on end. i hated it."

your voice is so small and fragile it breaks their hearts a little more.

"i've gone weeks trying to get my mother to speak to me normally. to act like she cared. but she'd always be so cold, insistent on punishing me for every little thing."

"and-" your voice broke, making hyunjin join felix in smothering you with cuddles.

"take your time, yn."

you hum, closing your eyes to stop the fresh wave of tears.

"and when chan stopped talking to me, i felt terrible. i thought i disappointed him too."

there was no more place, but chan joins the tangle of you, felix, and hyunjin as well, rubbing a soothing hand on your back.

"i'm so sorry i made you feel that way ynnie. i had no idea."

"it's not your fault," you admit, leaning into his chest.

"are we good now?"

"i hope so."

chan lets out that breathy laugh of his which you've grown to love over the years.

"don't ever hide your feelings from us, ynnie. you're a part of us. we don't want to see you hurting."

felix bops your nose as you smile, and it's all so corny and sweet, but it's also exactly what you need.

"now can we please have a movie night?"

"yah! jeongin. give her some time."

"no no, i'd actually love that. please?"

they're all ready to do whatever you want. it warms your heart and you almost cry again. nobody ever did this for you. you learned to think you didn't deserve it.

but here these 8 boys were, scrambling around trying to a build you a pillow fort and searching the shelves for snacks, yelling at each other across the house.

and as you're sitting there, you think that this could be your favorite site. they could be your favorite people. this could be your favorite memory. this feeling of being at home could be your favorite forever.

©lixie-phoria, 2023 taglist : @foxinnie8 @hamburgers101 @starlostlaiba @jiisungllvr (send an ask to be added/removed)

[somerandomdudelmao]

This might just be the angst gremlins setting up shop in my brain, but I can't help thinking that it's not just brotherly love behind why Donnie is taking sole custody of mug!Leo.

Because it's obviously not that he doesn't trust Raph or Mikey to look after Leo and keep him on ninpo life support. They could do it just as well, and even if Mikey still needs to be resting and restoring his energy, Raph is back up to full strength.

But one of the last bits of footage Donnie has of Leo is his twin reaching out to him (or at least reaching out to his memory in the lab) and asking for help, for care, and then apologizing for asking and saying it's not Donnie's concern or responsibility.

And this--Donnie not letting go or letting up for a second, going without sleep so that Leo is never alone or without energy--feels like him answering that call. It's him saying silently (until he can say it in person) that his twin is always his concern and he'll always answer if he can. Plus, he is the Fix-It Guy and this is his twin; he has to be the one to make it right. He couldn't help Leo then but he can help him now, and try to "make up" for the way he feels he let his family down.

Fictional turtles continue to consume my thoughts, more news at 11.

YOU

YOU ARE THE CHOSEN ONE WHO GET IT

Because jdnfbfjd,c,d

Y e s

[stevie-petey]

now you're a stranger (and i'm still july)

﹂ season three of "come home"

a lot can change in a year, and when summer comes to hawkins, you think you're finally okay with this idea. you've settled things with jonathan, nancy is now your friend, and steve harrington calls you angel. then dustin intercepts a secret russian code and your grand plans of you and robin teasing steve all summer, and maybe even falling in love, all come crashing down. (meanwhile all steve wants to do is ask you out). (but the russians complicate things). (as usual).

episode one: suzie, do you copy? - you help nancy sneak through jonathans window, the party uses you for your "in" with steve, and you sorta become the reason dustin almost blinds lucas. meanwhile, steve tries, and fails, to make you his girlfriend (this will happen all summer), but have no fear ! dustin intercepts a russian code and makes everything even harder for everyone. what a sweet brother <3

episode two: the mall rats - dreams are weird, billy is a hitchhiker, and hopper flirts with joyce in front of you (youre not sure which is scarier), somehow robin knows russian and has genius ears, you get caught in an awkward breakup showdown, and you shamefully are shocked when you discover that hawkins is anything but normal. you would think youd be a pro at this already, but at least steve is hot and really good at sneaking through windows.

episode three: the case of the missing lifeguard - dustin blackmails you for $5 and then dubs steve as boyfriend material for you, robin cracks yet another russian code, you all almost waterboard yourselves after sneaking onto the mall's roof, you have a sexy nervous breakdown, and jonathan takes you for a drive in his sick car.

episode four: the sauna test - dustin has some brotherly concern for you (dont tell anyone though), steve is offended you dont think he can fight, nancy gets upset during therapy hour, robin encourages child endangerment, erica becomes your hero, and you lose your lunch on hawkins makeshift tower of terror (aka sketchy russian elevators).

episode five: the flayed - you have the worst birthday of your life, you almost strangle steve with your bare hands and then later get snot all over him, erica is your savior, dustin is doing his best, robin starts to suspect things, and the russians have opened a gate to the upside down. its all pretty miserable tbh. but hey ! at least steve won a fight !

⌑ last updated: 6/4/24

⌑ season three title based on this song x

⌑ blurbs set within "come home" can be found here x

⌑ “come home” season masterlist

*note: this is a part of my stranger things rewrite, “come home”, and other seasons can be found linked above :)

[foolishquarry]

Dylan: Your balls are patchy?

Jacob: Wh- NO!

Max: Just trim and powder, Man.

[seresinhangmanjake]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Soap's Sister!Reader

Summary: You and Simon had been keeping your relationship a secret from your brother. You were happy, in love, but that all ended the moment Johnny found Simon in your bed.

Notes/warnings: Part 1 of 2. Mention of sexual acts. Angst. Fluff and smut in next part. Typos, I'm sure.

Words: 709

Part 2

You were Johnny’s sister. That alone should have been enough to ensure Simon kept his distance. And that was the plan, as staying away from you would've been the right thing to do; the respectful choice to make concerning the sister of his friend. But once he saw you, all of those thoughts vanished. 

You’d greeted him and Johnny at the door of the Mactavish home with a huge smile spread across your face, illuminating the shade of your eyes, and that was it. Simon was a goner. And to think just seconds prior, he hadn't wanted to come to the annual Mactavish family gathering. 

When offered Johnny’s invitation, Simon had turned him down. He didn’t do parties. He didn’t do loud chattering or large groups—around fifty bodies, Johnny had told him—and he didn’t appreciate hoards of questions hurtling his way. It took a half-hour of borderline begging from Johnny before Simon agreed, simply to get his friend to shut up. 

The drive over was agonizing with Johnny practically bouncing from the excitement of seeing his family all in one place for the first time in years, as Simon sat in the passenger seat with his arms crossed over his chest, anticipating the worst. But then there you were. So beautiful that he forgot his hatred for organized events with people he didn’t know. So gorgeous, and he quickly discovered not lacking in wit and intelligence. While Johnny mingled, you had Simon’s attention in a chokehold—an arousing pressure tight round his neck he never wanted relief from.

He had met pretty women before; funny and smart women, but not like you. Nothing like you. However, it would've been better had you revealed yourself to be dull. If you were dull he could've walked away. He could've avoided the guilt that sunk in when he noticed how Johnny didn't bother to pay attention to the dwindling space between your body and Simon's as the night progressed. Johnny didn't bother because he trusted his friend to do the right thing, as he would trust any teammate that he shared a brotherly bond with.

But Simon was not Johnny's brother. He was not your brother. He was your admirer, your pursuer, and eventually, your lover, just as you became his. A lover that ignited a fire in his belly he’d only ever heard about from Price and Gaz when speaking about their women. He never wanted to let you go. But that bliss ended the moment Johnny found him bare in your bed while you were rinsing off his cum in the shower. 

As he shot up in bed, Simon had two thoughts: how did he not sense someone coming into your apartment, and how did he not hear the knock at your bedroom door that, after going unanswered, prompted Johnny to enter out of concern. But there was a simple explanation. Simon was too sated, too drugged out on you, too exhausted and half asleep after a long morning of sex to register any sound other than your soft humming from the en suite.

Johnny’s face had descended into pure anger—nothing like Simon had ever seen—and he knew there were no excuses to give. Not for the scene, the circumstances, or the lies told in the hope Johnny would never know about the time you spent together behind his back. There were no words as the best thing in Simon's life shattered to bits.

He’d lost his best mate that day, and because of the fit Johnny threw at learning Simon had been sleeping with you for months, he’d lost you as well. He had tried his damnedest to keep you—Love, you’re a grown woman; you can make your own choices; he’ll come around—but all you did was shake your head, tears streaming down your cheeks and dripping onto the floor as you reminded him that hurting Johnny was one of the deal-breakers. 

He’d left your apartment with his fingers fisted in his hair, knowing that was the last time he was going to see you. And that had proved true over the following three months. He’d not heard from you. No calls, no texts, no bloody emails. You were done, gone, and Simon was stumbling through a world without you.

A/N: Fluff and smut next part. Thanks for reading 🥰

[katebishopsbow]

UNWANTED • CHARLES LECLERC

pairing: charles leclerc x sister!reader

summary: your brother was ready to give you a serious lecture after you tried sneaking home from a late-night party. but when he saw your teary eyes and found out that a boy had made you feel unwanted, he felt like his heart was being ripped apart.

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, self-deprecating thoughts

word count: 1.5k

(image is not mine)

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

“Do you have any idea what time it is?”

The voice of your brother echoed through the dimly lit corridor of your home, startling you as you tried to sneak in quietly from a rather hectic night out. The disapproving tone of Charles’ reprimand couldn’t be missed, but you couldn’t find the strength within you to deal with his brotherly lecture just yet – not when the urge to cry clawed at your chest from the embarrassment you had just gone through at the party.

“Whatever, I don’t even care,” you muttered quietly before turning around to leave, but a hand clasped around your wrist and stopped you before you could escape to the sanctuary of your room. “What’s with the attitude?” Charles asked with a displeased frown, ready to unleash his scolding about how irresponsible you were being and the audacity to lash out at him when you had your family worried for the whole night. 

His words came to a sudden halt when he finally had a proper look at your face, noticing your red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks, and his heart was filled with a dreadful fear that something terrible had happened. “What’s wrong, chéri?” The previous irritation in his voice completely disappeared as he asked you tenderly in concern, but you refused to meet his eyes because you knew you would only cry harder if you did. “Just leave me alone,” you whispered with your head hung low, and you were grateful that he didn’t try stopping you as you trudged up the stairs to your room.

After a long shower that involved more tears and sobs, you thought you were beginning to feel better about the situation, but when you crawled into bed and had nothing but your own thoughts to keep you company, you found yourself wanting to burst into tears again. That was when a soft knock could be heard on your door, and you answered with a muffled “Okay” when your brother asked if he could come in.

Charles peeked his head through the gap in the door, looking so much like a lost child it was almost endearing. “Hey… do you want to talk about it?” he said with a cautious glint in his eyes, not wanting you to feel forced or pressured to talk to him if you weren’t ready to. You thought about it for a second, and nodded yes when you decided that you much rather have his company than be alone with your anxious thoughts.

The look of utter dejection on your face was something Charles wished he never had to see ever again. “Do I have to beat someone up?” You vehemently shook your head, well aware that he wasn’t joking around and would do anything to protect you. “No… It was my fault, anyway,” you spoke with a sorrowful voice, silently blaming yourself when the events of the night drifted across your mind once more.

“Tell me what happened, chéri,” Charles asked with a worried frown, and so you suppressed the embarrassment you were feeling and recalled what had happened at the party to him. 

You told him about this guy who you’ve had the biggest crush on and how you two talked for the entire night at the party, and even flirted a bit with each other here and there. Things were seemingly going well until he leaned in and tried to kiss you. For some reason you panicked and pulled away, telling him that you weren’t ready yet and wanted to take things slower. He proceeded to call you a tease for leading him on for the entire night, and said that you were “such a waste of time” before walking off and leaving you there all alone.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you admitted the truth to your brother, but even through your blurry vision, you could see how furious Charles had looked as he struggled to comprehend your words. “That asshole called you what? Give me his address, I swear to God —“ The pure rage that simmered in his chest was almost blinding, and he was certain he could actually murder someone right now. How dare that guy say such horrendous things to you?

“No, Charles, he was right. I shouldn’t have led him on,” you sighed before burying your face in your hands, failing to see the absolute disbelief on your brother’s face. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I shouldn’t have pulled away… I shouldn’t have flirted with him if I wasn’t gonna let him kiss me!” Your muffled voice as you blame yourself did nothing but fuelled the anger that burned within Charles, but it also shattered his heart to see you like this.

How could you ever blame yourself when it should have been the guy’s fault for not respecting your boundaries? Why would you invalidate your own feelings just because of something a stupid boy had said to you? How dare that guy break his little sister's heart and make you believe that you were a waste of time? 

Seeing you cry tears of frustration made him want to cry with you, and so he wrapped his arms tightly around you while you wept into his shoulders, wishing that he could take all the pain away and shield you from every bad thing in the world. His hand rested comfortingly behind your head, giving you gentle head pats like he always used to do when you two were kids, “You should never feel bad for having boundaries, chéri. If he doesn’t know how to respect that, then it's entirely his fault, never yours, okay?” 

“I just feel like an idiot. When I stood there all by myself after he had left, I felt so unwanted, so undesirable… like no guy would ever like me for being me,” you blurted out between quiet sniffles. Charles was shaking his head before you could finish your sentence, refusing to let you continue with your self-deprecating words. He never ever wanted to hear you talk about yourself like that.

In his eyes, you were the most perfect little angel ever. As your older brother, he understood who you truly were, witnessed the realest side of you. He knew you had the most beautiful heart – always putting others above yourself – and every day you continued to amaze him with how much of a selfless, compassionate, and loving person you were. You meant the entire world to him, and it pained him more than anything to see you speak of yourself in such low regard.

“Don’t say that, please,” he sounded almost pleading, and the raw hurt and vulnerability that was hidden behind his wavering words made you want to cry even harder. “You’re the sweetest, kindest, most amazing person in the world. They don’t ever deserve you if they can’t see that.” 

Your brother leaned down to press a kiss on your forehead, fighting back the misty tears that clouded his own eyes as he whispered earnestly, “You are so loved, chéri, and you are so much more than the opinions of others.” Closing your eyes, you allowed the weight of his words to wash over you like soft, gentle ocean waves.

For the longest time, you had always believed that you needed to be a certain way to be loved, and how people perceived you slowly became the entirety of your self-worth. You craved the feeling of being wanted and the validation that came with being chosen, so you allowed people to walk all over you because you were terrified of being left behind.

And while you were so busy searching for the love that you longed for, you had forgotten to give yourself the same love you so easily give to others and overlooked the love that had always been there for you. Charles, your family, your friends – you were so entirely loved that your thought of feeling you were ever unwanted pained them, that seeing you get hurt broke their hearts into pieces.

If you had stopped for a second to look around you, you would realize that you had been searching at the wrong places all this time. You never had to be perfect to be loved and accepted – for it was your imperfections that made you human, that made you, you.

“Try getting some sleep, mon ange,” Charles breathed out a hushed whisper, his voice smooth as velvet. As you rested in the loving embrace of your brother – your pillar of strength and the one who would always have your back, your eyelids slowly fluttered close as your mind drifted toward a tranquil calmness. 

“But seriously, what is the guy’s address? I just want to have a little chat.”

[fiction-is-life]

Congratulations on 500 non-bot followers! I just joined the ranks after reading the angstly little treat you did for @eleanor-bradstreet 🤩

I would like to request a blurb for Anthony from your prompt list. #8 - "Looks like we'll be trapped for a while."

This is so fun!

Trapped and Titillated

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for the follow, love, and for your kind words! I am so glad you liked Touchstone of Our Character!  I had so much fun writing this request; it is quite a bit longer than a blurb, but I hope that makes up for the fact it has taken me so long to write it!  Enjoy!

Summary: You are trapped with the Viscount.

Warnings: Angst, getting locked in a room, verbal fighting, steamy make out session, brotherly teasing

~

The door wouldn’t budge.  Oh, I knew when that latch clicked, I was doomed.  Utterly doomed.  And it was all his fault.

“Well, you have done it now, my lord,” I seethed, letting the veneer of polite reserve fall away.  It was always thin around him anyway.

Anthony Bridgerton had the audacity to raise one perfect, dark brow.  “I have done it?” he intoned, his voice cutting through my rising panic, reinforcing who I was angry at.

“Yes,” I hissed.  “You shut the door behind you, and now it is jammed.  It may be hours before someone comes by and finds us, and what then?”

He took a step towards me, matching the one I had subconsciously taken, bringing us closer than society would deem acceptable.  “As far as I am concerned, I have only done what was my right.  This is my library in my home, and I may shut any door I please.”

“Not when an unmarried young lady is in said library - unaccompanied.  Or have you forgotten the rules of the Ton while you were busy raking about the kingdom?” I knew I had struck my mark when I saw the Viscount’s eyes darken, his whole body tensing.

“Miss (Y/L/N), you do not know of what you speak,” he said through clenched teeth, and I shivered from the ice in his tone.  Anthony certainly did not miss it.  “I was raised a gentleman, Miss (Y/L/N), as a member of one of the most respected families in all of England, no less.”  

I scoffed and raised my chin and matched his stance.  We were practically nose-to-nose with each other.  “Well, there must be an exception to every rule, my lord, and I suppose you are it.”

I wanted to take the words back as soon as I said them, terrified at the way his features turned from red-hot anger to a cold, stony silence.  I took a shaky breath.  “M-my lord, I apologize.  I believe I am overwrought from the events of today.  Please forgive me,” I spoke in a rush, not daring to make eye contact with those dark depths again.

A long moment passed before he cleared his throat, his complexion returned to a more normal hue but his posture still stiff.  “It looks like we'll be trapped for a while, Miss (Y/L/N).  We may as well make ourselves comfortable," he spoke in a clipped, quiet tone.  For some odd reason, I wished he would have yelled instead.

He must have noticed the look of panicked confusion on my face as I alternated between staring at him and the couches near the fire.  “Do not fear, Miss (Y/L/N), I shall strive to reign in my more ungentlemanly urges.  Your virtue is safe from me.”

I bit my lip, nodding at his words.  They were what I wanted to hear.  Right?  Oh, dash it!  I had never been prone to hysterics before, but something about being this close to the Viscount was making my thoughts and feelings a muddle.  So, I did the only thing that felt safe.

I pretended to read.

I believed it was working, too.  That is, until the Viscount cleared his throat again.  I wanted to roll my eyes at the realization that the smallest of his gestures still commanded attention.  I was looked over during a one-on-one conversation, but Lord Anthony Bridgerton could simply breathe in a certain way and every head would turn.

“Is there something you need, my lord?”  I asked, my eyes still blindly trained on the pages in front of me so that I missed his growing smirk.

“You must be a great reader, Miss (Y/L/N),” he said.

I raised one perfectly arched eyebrow.  “Yes, I do love a good book,” I returned, turning the page.

“You are most certainly a more avid reader than I.”

That made me look up at him, confusion wrinkling my brow.  “Why do you say that, my lord?” 

He openly smiled now, allowing me to see that little dimple in his one cheek.  “I have never mastered the art of reading words that are upside-down.”

“What?”  I looked down and finally saw what book I had picked up.  It was a tome on new farming practices, and it was indeed upside down.  

Well, I could not let him win that easily.  “I find I absorb the words much better when it is more difficult to read them.”  I looked down my nose as I had seen many women do.  “I believe it is important to challenge oneself, so one does not become ignorant and vain.”

His features twisted into a wry grin.  “Very true, Miss (Y/L/N),” he said in a tight voice.  He crossed over to the sofa I was sitting on and sat down - far too close for comfort.  “What are other pursuits that you find are challenging enough, may I ask?”

I knew he was goading me, but I simply could not back down from his challenge.  “Any activities I find rewarding, I suppose.”  I closed the book and tilted my head, staring him in the eye.  “Making sound investments, helping run the household, volunteering for charities,” I listed, not even trying to mask the smugness in my tone.  “Basically anything that contributes to society, unlike spending every night at gaming hells or with ladies of the night or -”

His lips crashed onto mine, cutting me off.  I felt positively surrounded by him as he crushed me into the back of the sofa, his strong arms encircling my waist and pulling me into him.  He smelled of bay rum and mint, and it was utterly intoxicating.  

At first, I was too shocked to react, but as his lips moved insistently on my own, I started to follow his lead.  He growled when I parted my lips, and my eyes shot open when he darted his tongue into my mouth, but it felt too good to pull away.  So, I pulled him closer.

My hands tangled in his dark locks, and when my fingers caught on a knot, Anthony pulled back slightly, moaning.  I gasped and pulled back.  “Did I hurt you, my lord?” I asked, concerned.

He groaned again, his eyes darkening further.  “Call me that again,” he growled, panting heavily.

My face twisted in confusion.  “My lord?”

“Yes,” he breathed, his lips finding mine again.  His hands wandered this time, sending pings of pleasure straight to my core.  I couldn’t hold back my own noises when his strong hands found my breasts, my nipples pebbling embarrassingly.  

I lost track of time as Anthony peppered wet kisses down my neck and over the swells of my breasts where my dress did not cover them.  He started to work his hand under the skirt of my dress when a crash was heard on the other side of the library.  

“Brother! Are you in here?  I need to get away from all of the matchmaking endeavours mother has concocted,” the voice of Anthony’s brother, Benedict, was heard.  Anthony’s head snapped up, a panicked look in his eyes.  

“Stay here.  I shall get rid of him,” Anthony whispered before rising from the sofa, straightening his jacket where I had mussed it.  “Brother.  You find me at an inopportune time.  I was just leaving,” he called out to his brother, trying to prevent him from seeing me.

“Why?  You already met with the steward this morning.  You have nothing else planned until dinner.”  Even I could hear the skepticism in Benedict’s voice as it grew closer.  

“Well, yes, but I thought I might go for a ride,” Anthony hedged.

“Wonderful!  I shall join you!”

“No!” Anthony shouted.  “I mean, I was wishing to ride out alone this time,” he finished in a more tempered tone.  

There was a long pause where I thought Benedict just may have believed the lie.  “Are you sure you want to be alone?  Because I think Miss (Y/L/N) might disagree.”  I gasped.  “I shall see you at dinner, brother, Miss (Y/L/N),” he said, a door closing behind him shortly after.  

I sat up with a huff, my cheeks flaming a brighter red than they had been before.  “I am sorry; I did not think anyone would follow me here -”

“What door did he come through?” I interrupted what was sure to be a very eloquent apology.

Now, the Viscount’s cheeks turned red and he scratched the back of his neck nervously.  “Well, um, he used the hidden entrance in the south wall.”

“Oh, you cad!” I screamed.  “Open it.  Now, my lord.”

Anthony silently moved toward the south wall, pulling a certain book back to reveal a hidden door.  I gathered my dignity about me as I fixed my skirts.  I caught a whiff of his cologne once more as I passed him, and for a brief moment, I wanted to turn back.  Instead, I held my head high, giving the Viscount one of those superior looks other ladies had mastered.  I wanted him to know I was not to be trifled with.

But I knew this was not the end of my encounters with the Viscount.

~

My Masterlist

[ithebookhoarder]

En Garde (Sherlock Holmes x Reader)

Synopsis: Your husband has always been protective of you, given his line of work. However, when he offers to teach you the basics of self-defence, it quickly becomes clear that his intentions may not be quite so innocent after all... 

Warnings: Mild reference to bodily harm, light smutty behaviour, spoilers for the second film.

A/N: Oh, how I’ve missed Enola Holmes. I loved the books, and the films are just as great in their own way, so expect a bit of spam for the next few weeks - apologies in advance. 

Masterlist

“Now, try again-”

“-Sherlock-”

“No. Come on. Focus, darling. Once more, from the beginning. Eyes forward-” 

Oh, that was it. 

You were going to kill your husband. Slowly… and painfully… It would be the least he deserved, torturing you as he was. 

“Call me ‘darling’ one more time, husband,” you warned dangerously, “and see if I don’t shove this sword in your direction.” 

Why you agreed to this in the first place was beyond you, given that the day had so far been much more satisfying for him rather than you. 

After all, it had been Sherlock’s idea to help teach you the basics of self-defence - throwing a punch, dodging one, along with the fundamentals for using weapons such as a pistol, club, and now a sword (although when he thought you’d be in such a position to use one, you weren’t sure). 

Given his profession and the fact that his cases often lead to unplanned consequences, it had seemed a rather sensible idea at the start. His recent run in with the infamous Inspector Grail had rattled him, helpless to protect Enola everyone involved in the case from harm. 

Luckily, they had all survived, if not a little worse for wear - most of which was down to your skilled hands, having sewn, cleaned, and bandaged each and every wound they presented you with following the confrontation. 

You had seen the pain etched into Sherlock’s face that night, as you had helped wipe the blood from Enola’s head where she had been struck. He may have often denied having emotions, but the brotherly love and concern was all too clear to you as he seemed to blame himself somehow for failing to protect her. 

So, now, Sherlock was determined to equip you with the tools you may need should a similar situation ever arise. It made it an easy yes, to agree to his tutelage in the hopes of soothing both his and your concerns. That, and dare you even say it sounded like fun? 

Well, fun for you, yes, but evidently even more fun for your husband as it turned out.

Indeed, Sherlock was certainly a ‘hands-on’ kind of teacher and it had become clear early on that his focus was not entirely on developing your skills in combat. You didn’t have to be the detective to notice how his hands kept drifting to places they didn’t belong, or that his eyes seemed to be capitalising on the opportunity to observe your form in tight trousers as you lunged about the room. 

And that wasn’t the worst of it - in fact, for the past half an hour, he had been standing behind you, his chest pressed to your back, one of his hands covering yours as it gripped the hilt of the sword - or the foil, as he had informed you. 

As for the other, it was rather distracting, pressed against your stomach so as to allow your husband to correct your stance… or so he claimed, as he pulled you closer once again. 

“That’s it,” you huffed, trying and failing to ignore the sudden shiver that ran down your spine as he ground against you. “You are certainly having too much fun. Perhaps I should have asked Enola or Edith to be my tutor instead. At least they can be trusted to remain professional.” 

He scoffed, not sounding the least bit ashamed at the accusation.

“You wound me, wife,” he murmured, his lips grazing against your cheek, “After all, was it not you who said you didn’t wish to be a ‘maiden in need of rescuing’ should anyone wish you harm?”

“You know that I am neither a maiden, nor in need of rescuing, Mr Holmes.” Turning your head, you were quick to return the favour, letting your lips graze his teasingly. His soft groan was enough of a sign that your efforts appeared to be working. 

Two could play this game. 

“In fact, the only person I seem to need rescuing from right now is you, and your wandering hands.” 

You felt his laughter shaking through him, making it hard not to laugh yourself as he began peppering kisses to your neck. 

Clearly your lesson in swordplay would have to wait; it appeared he had a different kind of physical activity planned for you both. 

[fluentmoviequoter]

Wintery

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!vigilante!reader

Summary: Gotham winters are brutal, but your best friend Jason Todd and work friend Red Hood know how to combat the cold. Unfortunately, you're falling in love with both of them.

Warnings: reader and Jason don't know the other is a vigilante, fluff, brotherly teasing, kissing, more fluff

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: I have no idea where this idea came from but it wouldn't leave me alone, so I had to write it. I hope it's okay and feel free to let me know what you think!🤍

Masterlist | DC/Jason Todd Masterlist | Request Info

Picture from Pinterest

Gotham winters are cold, windy, and relentless. There are few places to find refuge from the harsh bite of the chilling wind and fewer remedies to the wind-burned skin and seemingly permanent chapped lips.

Jason Todd, however, is a Gotham boy, born and raised, so he knows the importance of staying moisturized and protected in the winter. So, it's no surprise that he keeps lip balm in his pocket all winter.

No, it isn’t intimidating to see Red Hood putting Chapstick on, but having cracked lips is far more frightening. He finds quiet alleys, tipping his helmet up to combat dry lips before returning to his vigilante duties. Nightwing has only caught him once, and Jason is intent on never experiencing that level of brotherly torture (teasing) again.

✯✯✯✯✯

Since joining the small group of vigilantes, Red Hood has captured and kept your attention. Never saying more than a few words to you, he always seems nearby and eager to help you out of trouble, but you can’t get past that point.

Nightwing and Robin occasionally tell you their ideas to get him to open up to you, convinced there’s something between you, but you brush it off and admire the man in red from a distance.

The night wind is blowing hard enough you’re comfortable standing on such a high roof. You tuck yourself behind anything stationary, including Red Hood. 

Under the hood, Jason smiles to himself. He knows why you’re standing close to him, your concern for the wind mixing with an irrational idea that he will allow anything to happen to you. But, if you want to use him to block the wind from your pretty face, he’s happy to stay perfectly still. However, his gaze keeps dropping to your lips.

Jason watches you; he has been since you first stumbled upon them in a less than satisfactory suit. You were bleeding from a run-in with several muggers but smiling through your pain because you managed to make someone feel safe in Gotham; a rare feat unless you’re Batman. Instantly drawn to you, Red Hood has let himself get close enough to consider you a friend but not close enough to talk to you or worry incessantly about where you are through the day.

You say something, and Jason shakes his head to escape his memories of you, focusing on you and your dry-lipped smile. The winds are blowing up the building and into your face even as he blocks the worst of it, and your rosy cheeks amplify Jason’s growing concern. He wants to offer his jacket to you, even his chapstick – an unwelcome idea of kissing you to share it enters his mind, but he shoves it away. Or tries to; the imagined feeling of your lips on his is hard to shake.

After your question goes unanswered the second time, you wonder if Red Hood fell asleep under the helmet. He jerks sideways when you slide your hand into his pocket. His grip falls away from the holster on his thigh when he realizes it’s just you. (Though he’d never think 'just you' about anything.) You pull your hand out of the worn leather jacket, a small white tube in your grasp. Keeping your eyes on the small eye slits of the mask, you uncap the balm and put it directly on your lips.

“Thanks,” you say, smiling as you place it back in his pocket before turning away.

Anyone else, and he’d throw it away, unwilling to share such a personal item, but since he just thought about sharing it in a much different way, he doesn’t mind the idea of you doing it again. He’ll have to remember which pocket he put it in and leave it there for you, he decides.

✯✯✯✯✯

“It’s freezing,” you groan, rubbing your arms as you walk inside the warm apartment. “Why can’t we move to Metropolis?”

Jason laughs at you, his best friend. Since he developed what Dick refuses to call anything but “a crush” on his vigilante partner, he’s wondered what this thing with you is. You are his friend, of course, but there is something more there. Jason has never been good with feelings, and he’s in a strange spot between two women who affect him, similar yet completely different in how he responds.

“Because we can’t afford it,” Jason hums, welcoming you onto the couch beside him.

You slide your cold feet under his sweatpants-clad legs, sighing when he lays his arm over your shoulders.

“We who, Mr. Trust Fund Wayne?” you tease, leaning your head against his upper arm. “Thanks for inviting me over, though, even if I did get frostbite on the way.”

Jason chuckles, stopping short when he remembers something someone else said after fighting Mr. Freeze during a riot at Arkham. Shaking his head, he determines that he has a type.

“I’m stealing this,” you interrupt his reading, pulling a hoodie from the back of his couch.

“Be my guest,” he murmurs, watching you pull it over your head. You feel warmer beside him after a few minutes, and when you dig a small tub of lip balm out of your pocket, Jason wonders if he should move to Metropolis.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Where did it go?” Jason says to himself, barely audible through the voice modifier of the mask.

“Whatcha looking for?” you ask, dropping to the fire escape beside Red Hood. He doesn’t answer, but when you realize all his attention is focused on one pocket, you know. “Really? I need it again, too,” you lament.

Red Hood sighs, turning toward you. Your lips still look fine, with no sign of chapping in sight. Deciding he needs it more than you do, Jason seizes the opportunity.

Pushing his helmet up, he grabs your face between his warm, gloved hands. Pulling you against him, Jason presses his lips to yours, moving with you as the moisturizing gloss spreads across his lips.

“Better?” he asks, smirking before his face is hidden behind his helmet again.

Your face is still in his hands as you nod. “Nightwing took it,” you whisper.

Jason rolls his eyes and leans forward, whispering, “Who needs it when I have you?”

“You do,” you reply, dumbfounded and breathless from the kiss you’ve admittedly been daydreaming about. “I got mine from you.”

Red Hood laughs, and it warms you from the inside out. You think for a moment you’ve heard that laugh before, but then the idea disappears.

✯✯✯✯✯

The next day, you beat Jason back to his apartment after leaving the manor. Letting yourself in, you walk to his bookshelf to see if he’s gotten any new books. A leather jacket is lying on the floor beside the shelf, and when you pick it up, something falls out of the pocket.

“Hey,” Jason greets, closing the door behind him.

Turning, you hold the chapstick up, looking at him with wide eyes and a slack jaw.

“Yeah?”

He comes to your side, his brows pinched. 

“Are you-“

You drop everything in your hands before grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him down to you. As you kiss him, everything clicks into place.

Falling in love with Jason and Red Hood simultaneously wasn’t some cruel trick of fate or a mistake… you’d been with the same guy all along.

Pulling back, Jason takes a moment before opening his eyes. He blinks at you several times, trying to speak and failing.

“Really?” you ask, tilting your head. “I see that made a much bigger impact on me than it did on you.”

Jason still can’t answer, his mind going over each similarity that he should have caught on to, each mirrored movement or similar response. Your kiss, though… your kiss is unmistakable. He believed his lies about the touches and the words, but nothing can compete with your affection.

“Thank you,” Jason whispers, pulling you close again.

“For what?” you ask, brushing your fingers through the white streak in his hair. “It took me way too long to realize.”

“For everything,” he answers before kissing you again.

✯✯✯✯✯

Your first patrol after learning not just Red Hood but everyone’s true identities is interesting. Bringing your own protection against the current blizzard, you're grateful for the foresight after you get separated from Jason.

Waiting near Arkham and shivering in the cold, you don’t hear the crunch of boots on snow until Red Hood grabs your waist and spins you around. Without his helmet, only a domino mask to protect his identity (pointless in the dark storm), he doesn’t wait before pressing his lips to yours, eager to try a new flavor and get more of you. After waiting so long and being tortured by his tragic decision to love two women at once, Jason deserves to show you how much he cares for you twice as often as he wishes. And if you start buying crazy lip balm flavors to mess with him, he’ll love you even more for it.

[jokingmisfit]

I Just (Don't) Need Help (Part 1/2)

Yandere Batfam x Disabled Female Reader

Warnings- disabled reader, manipulation, reader is in pain, very light yandere themes

Notes- The disability isn’t named because I wanted to make it as inclusive as possible, although it is heavily based on my experiences because I only really know what I’ve experienced. The reader and Damien are both high school seniors, cause I said so. Reader lives alone because who needs parents?

It was the pain. That God awful pain that made you unable to eat, or sleep, or think. Everything in your body screaming at you to quit and give up, but also begging for help. In the end, however, there was nothing you could do.

You've tried, God did you try. You tried to work through it. You've tried to get help, but person after person, and doctor after doctor ignored your pain, ignored your symptoms and left you stranded in this unbearable hell. 

You just wanted peace. You just wanted to live without this unending pain. You found it confusing how a human can constantly go through so much pain and not die from it.

You were behind in school. You've lost another job. You were so goddamn tired. 

You pulled the phone off your in-stand. Sending a quick text to your friend Damien. You ask him if there were any important notes you missed at school and if he felt like sending you a picture of them. You let him know you’re fine, just sick, and hoping that’ll calm the quantity of texts he has sent you.

You have to be careful with him, Damien, he's easily irritated and highly intelligent. You’ve told him about your disabilities, but  you try to not let the pain show. You know he knows something, because he'll press you for information on yourself and stare you down when you refuse to do certain things. He knows it’s worse than you let on, but he doesn’t press like the others.

The text was only slightly changed from one you sent a few weeks ago. You didn’t have the energy to write a whole new text so you copied an old one, only changing it so Damien didn’t catch on and think the flare up was too bad. 

Despite only taking a minute or so, it already took all the energy you had left in you. Throwing your phone to the side, you tried to get comfortable, and you drift right back to a restless sleep.

~

A loud pounding woke you from your queasy rest. You wondered if you could slip back into that sweet dark nothingness, but with the noise being made you knew it’d be useless.

You’d gathered all the bearings you could, and a blanket for good measure, and made your way to your front door. Before you even got there, however, it was already opening. You stood there deadpanned as Jason looks up at you from his bent position; clearly finishing picking your lock. 

Dick smiles at you with an awkward laugh and greets you. “Heya… sorry for the intrusion, princess.” He chuckles nervously again. “Damien said you skipped school and stopped answering his texts and everyone got pretty worried soo, here we are!”

“Yeah, okay.” You say with a sigh and go sit on your couch.

Jason and Dick share a concerned look at your exhausted form. Frowns perching on Jason's face, and a worried smile on Dicks. 

“Sooo,” Jason started. “You feelin alright there, doll? Ya look pretty… bad?” He awkwardly asks you.

He and Dick sit on the couch with you while Dick quietly scolds him about telling you, you look bad. If it was for the lightness in your head you’d laugh a little at the brotherly behavior, but for now you opt to lay your head on Jason's shoulder once he’s settled on the seat.

“t’s jus a flare up…” You whisper out to them.

You really didn’t want to have a whole conversation. The urge to down all of the pain medicine in your cabinet comes back up. The need to just get the pain to go away. No, you didn’t want to die, but you wanted the pain to stop. You wanted to be able to appreciate your friends coming over to check on you. With all the overwhelming symptoms you couldn’t appreciate much.

With your eyes closed and head on Jason's shoulders, you had missed another look Jason and Dick shared. A mixture of annoyance, concern, and dark thoughts showing clearly through their eyes.

“Didn’t you go to a doctor for that?” Dick asks you with an irritated tone.

“Said he doesn believe me…” You tell him. “Think I wan drugs or somethin.”

Jason scoffs loudly at this. “You’re a drug seeker now huh?”

“‘Mm parently.” You reply.

Dick moves closer and rubs his hand lovingly across your back. You humm with appreciation at the action. Your exhausted form relaxes a bit more into the soft cushion. You move your head and hide it a bit more into Jason's chest. 

“Maybe,” Dick starts softly. “You should come stay with us for a while?”

You sigh in frustration. “Already told you guys ‘m not gonna use you like that.” You state angrily. “You’re my friens not a resource for me ta use.”

“I know, I know!” Dick defends, throwing his hands up in defense and laughing nervously. “It’s just, we’ve got tons of money and can get you an actually good doctor. Y’know one that’ll actually listen to your needs, birdie.” He explains passionately.

“Besides,” Jason chimes in. “You’re like family, hunny. We want to help you out. And Alfred has been dyin to see ya again.”

“I don’t wan to…” You tell them.

Jason scoffs. “Why not?”

This situation was too much for you right now. The pain you felt weighed you down and made it harder to hold yourself together. The little bit of poise you had was bubbling off you like melted flesh leaving you at the barest version of yourself, and that self was angry and confused.

You didn’t get why every time you got sick or had a flare up they got like this. Urging you to come live with them ‘cause “it’s easier” and “they can help” or because “you a kid” and “you shouldn’t be living alone”. What do they know? They were adopted by a billionaire and have a huge family. They don’t know what it’s like to feel the way you do. Of course some things they understand, but a lot of it seems they don’t.

It was irritating for them as well. They want to help you, but you always refuse. It always ends in an argument and you push them away for a while until you forget why you were mad in the first place. It was a tiring loop that everyone was becoming sick of.

You lean forward and out of both the mens touches. “I don‘t know why!” You sluggishly shout. “I jus don’t wan to. I don’t know why it’s always a fight with you guys… Jst let me rest please! I’m in pain ‘n all you wanna do is try and hold a conversation that we all know will only end in irritation.” You breathlessly tell them.

You stand on unsteady feet and start walking back towards your room. The stiffness and anger making you feel even worse.

Why can’t they try and see things the way you do?

Of course, they were wondering the same thing. Dick stands up to follow after you. Matching glares enter the brothers eyes as they mirror your steps. Determined to not give up this time when you clearly need them.

You’ve already buried yourself in the bed by the time the two come to your doorway. Honestly you were a bit surprised when they came to sit on the edge of your bed. Well, at least Jason did. Dick crawled over and layed propped against your headboard next to you.

“Okay… Maybe we’ve been a little too pushy.” Dick says.

“Maybe?” You ask glaring up from your covers.

He laughs at you. “Okay, okay, I get it! We’ve pushed too far… It’s just- it’s just that we can get you the help you need, and it’s not like you’d be staying forever. Just long enough for you to get a proper diagnosis and medicine or whatever to make things easier.”

The change from joyful to melancholy in Dicks voice had you feeling guilty. The way he poured out his heart into people never ceased to awe you. You shift to sit up more against the headrest. Jason’s hand found its way to your calf where it rested casually.

“You know we don’t want to force you to do anything. We’re just so concerned for you. We know you’ve been alone for so long, but you don’t have to be anymore.” Dick says love shining in his eyes. “I know you think needing help makes you weak, but it doesn’t, and what’s family for but to be there for you when you are. Can’t tell you how many times we’ve been completely consumed by worry for you.” His brows furrowed as he explains.

“Just long enough for you to get to feelin better. That’s all we ask, doll.” Jason adds on.

“Jus a little while? That’s all?” You ask hesitantly.

“Just for a little while, princess.” Dick answers.

You nod slowly and whisper an “ok”. The two men were immediately in motion packing you a bag. You sat up more and assured them you could do it yourself but they hushed you in excitement. Jason asked you if there were any specific things you wanted while Dick filled a bag with clothes.

All in all time moved swiftly as the two moved like practiced dancers. Within minutes dresses and sentimental items were pulled from their proper places placed into bags and moved out of your home. Dick picked you up despite your demands to walk and brought you to their car. The two of you were followed closely by Jason who carried the last bag of items you’d be taking with you to their homes. Claims to come back for more were made by all three of you as you left the rest behind.

It didn’t take much for you to fall asleep in the back of the car. The rumbling and pain induced heaviness lulled you to sleep like a baby in a cradle. Because of your peaceful rest your arrival at the manor was kept relatively calm so as to not wake you. Bruce coming out to carry you to your new room while the other two grabbed your items. Tim checks the camera placed in the bedroom to make sure it’s operating and Alfred prepares a simple snack for you to eat once you wake up.