#but this time i'm older and my thoughts are clearer

[hellfire-state-of-mind]

it’s hell on earth to be heavenly

pairing: security guard!Frankie x band leader!fem!reader

rating: E for Explicit

word count: 5.2k

warnings: 18+ content, reader has no physical description besides female anatomy and clothing, Frankie is able to lift reader, aggressive music festival crowds, mental health scare, Frankie is our pussy eating king, unprotected piv sex, creampie

a/n: my contribution to the Summer Lovin' challenge hosted by @pedgito, @chaotic-mystery, and @amanitacowboy!! i'm so excited to share this one, the story came to me immediately when i got the moodboard. i'm a huge concert girlie so i may have nerded out just a bit 😅 anyway, happy Frankie Friday, enjoy some filth 😘

You knew your lives were about to change the moment the festival was confirmed. You just weren’t prepared for how much.

The band had solidified by the end of your first year of college. You met Madison, the bassist, in your orientation group the week before classes began. She learned how to play in high school out of spite when an ex-boyfriend made a comment about how “girl bassists aren’t real” – her major was in English Lit. Tyler, the rhythm guitarist, was your biology lab partner in the second semester. He was a couple years older, already in his third year and still undecided on his major but like any other former teenage wannabe-fuckboi, he only learned how to play guitar as a party trick to pick up girls. Over Spring Break, he threw a party at the apartment he shared with his sister, Kate, who’d decided not to take the college route despite being the same age as you and Madison. You learned that she was on the drumline in her high school’s marching band, so you didn’t hesitate to snatch her up and round out the group as your drummer.

You had a bit more classical background. Your mom had put you in piano lessons almost as soon as you were tall enough to reach the keys. She tacked on voice lessons when you were in middle school. By the time you were 12, you had your heart set on being a composer and performing at concert halls around the country. Your uncle was the one to teach you how to play guitar; he had a side gig at a local sports bar playing crowd-requested covers and pulled some strings to book the restaurant for your 16th birthday. You were mesmerized by the way everyone would join in and sing along, would-be strangers bound by nothing but an invisible string of words and chords. You ached to know that feeling and suddenly your path was even clearer than before.

The four of you hadn’t intended to form a band. Your bond as friends came first, the music just came from goofing off at a frat party and earning some cheers from drunk bystanders. From there, you did campus events and open-mic nights at dive bars, all just for fun and a little extra pocket money. You even played a wedding for your roommate’s cousin. Your first original song was a by-product of a final poetry assignment for one of Madison’s classes. The four of you recorded yourselves, put it up on YouTube, and it went viral within 24 hours. So you spent that summer just writing music. Pooling together your money allowed you to rent out the campus music department’s recording studio and your first EP was born.

That’s also where you met Frankie.

He had just taken a job as overnight campus security, and it was his first graveyard shift. It had been expectedly uneventful, sweeping through each building and making sure they were empty. Until one wasn’t as empty as it was supposed to be.

He saw the light at the end of the hallway and his Army training kicked in. Soft, slow steps carried him to the occupied practice room. There you sat at the piano, plunking out experimental chords and scratching out notations on the sheet music in front of you. You were so focused that you didn’t even hear the very audible creak of the door as Frankie pushed his way in. He waited a moment for you to respond, assuming he had just caught you mid-thought but when you still didn’t acknowledge his presence, he cleared his throat a bit more aggressively than he intended. “Excuse me.”

You jumped and swiveled around the bench. Your eyes were wide and tinged red with fatigue. You’d been there for hours, insistent on getting the song right.

“Miss, this building is closed.”

You blinked, digesting his words. “Right. Sorry, um,” you squeezed your eyes shut and inhaled at the sting of their dryness, “what time is it?”

“Nearly 1am.” Frankie softened, sure you weren’t any threat, but still maintained his authoritative stance. “You’re not supposed to be here. Could I see some ID?”

After digging through your bag and showing him your driver’s license and student badge, the situation cleared itself up pretty quickly. You’d explained what you were doing there and even showed him the official email from the department head giving your band permission to access the building over the summer. This sparked Frankie’s interest and the two of you probably would’ve spent hours talking if it hadn’t already been so late.

Despite your band’s clear potential, you all agreed to finish out your degrees before pursuing the industry for real. While you were afraid of missing your opportunity, having achieved such a bright spotlight so early on, a part of you was grateful. For time. For structure. For Frankie.

The two of you grew close over those last three years of your undergrad. You exchanged numbers with the veiled excuse of being able to contact him if you needed to get in or out of a building late at night. This eventually became if you needed him for anything. And one night at the end of senior year, you needed him bad.

The university had a tradition of throwing an exclusive off-campus party for the seniors the night after final grades were due. Being the only two band members in school, it was just you and Madison. Classic story, she was invited out afterwards by a bunch of other English majors, leaving you with no ride. So you called Frankie, and he pulled up in the parking lot within minutes. Fueled by the sadness of leaving him behind post-graduation and a little bit of alcohol, you seized your moment as soon as he parked behind your dorm building. The two of you showed just how badly you were going to miss each other in the back of his pickup.

--

You’re pulled from your memories by the hotel room door opening. Madison and Kate come spilling in, all dressed for the festival. Kate bangs on the adjoining room door, signaling Tyler to come over, and flops onto the bed opposite from Madison. You do one last look over your hair and makeup and emerge from the bathroom to get dressed.

Madison ooh’s in admiration while Kate whistles. “Okay, baddie.”

You roll your eyes and start to strip. Your concert outfit is laid out across the armchair by the window. “Do you guys wanna go over the set one last time?”

“Yeah, as soon as Tyler gets his ass over here!” Kate raises her voice to be heard in the room next door.

“Is everyone decent?” Tyler’s muffled voice comes from behind the door just as you finish buttoning your jeans.

“Yeah,” you yell back and bunch up your top, pulling it over your head as the door opens. You adjust the hem of the cropped tank and sit on the armrest, and the final band meeting is in session.

Right on time 20 minutes later, there’s another knock on the door. Being the closest, Madison hops up to open it and returns with Frankie in tow. “Y’all ready?”

The four of you share nervous and excited glances and you turn to him. “Fuck yeah.”

You and Frankie had kept in close contact after the band moved to LA in pursuit of a record label. He became your security detail shortly after your first tour as an opening act two years ago, fitting into the position perfectly with his military background. You’ve never run into any real issues, still being a relatively obscure group, but you were certainly on the rise.

This music festival was proof. The first single from your second album had just dropped when you got the call: opening the third largest stage on the first day of the event. You were billed third on the promotional fliers. For a band so comparatively unknown, this opportunity would either make or break you.

Frankie drops you off backstage for soundcheck exactly on time. You’re all immediately swarmed by operators and technicians and Frankie disappears off to the sidelines. He listens intently as you all tune your instruments and warm up your fingers and voices. He even catches himself humming along as you play bits and pieces of your setlist to confirm everything is in order.

Frankie’s attention is yanked away by the growing sound of the crowd in front of the stage. The four of you catch on to it as well, Madison and Tyler giddy with excitement and Kate twirling her drumsticks to ground herself. Frankie watches as you fiddle with your hair for the hundredth time, tapping your guitar pick against your thigh. Squeezed perfectly into those jeans you know he loves. Cupping the roundness of your ass just right. The hem of your tank top ends just high enough to give a peek at your midsection that he knows will be on full display once you settle into yourself and start jumping around the stage.

He doesn’t realize he’s staring until you’re right in front of him. You laugh when he still gets flustered at being caught, despite being a confirmed couple ever since he joined your team. You hook your fingers into his belt loops and tug him closer, careful to maneuver around the instrument strung across your front.

Frankie tucks a stray hair behind your ear, brushing your cheek with his knuckle as he does. “You ready, rockstar?”

You take a deep breath and nod. “As I’ll ever be.”

On cue, a voice crackles in your in-ear monitor calling everyone to places. Frankie cups your face, pulling you in for a confident kiss. You flash him a wink as you pull away and line up to climb the stage.

Frankie finds a vantage point off to the side of the crowd, their cries echoing across the fairgrounds as you strike the first chords. He knows your pattern: you’ll linger behind the mic stand for the first song and a half or so, only venturing out to interact with Madison and Tyler during the instrumental breaks. Finally, you’ll walk out to the edge of the stage, playing directly to the fans but just out of their reach. By the third song, you’ve got the microphone in your hand and you’re frolicking around the stage unburdened.

He holds his breath as you approach one particular guitar solo that challenges your playing ability, then cheers along as you nail it with a dazzling smile, the crowd going wild at your fingertips.

The air is hazy with smoke as your set comes to a close, both from the festivalgoers and the machines blowing onto the stage. Tyler, Madison, and Kate play an extended outro of your last song as you address the crowd, thanking them for watching and introducing the band one last time before ending with a final flourish of chords and drumrolls. Frankie makes his way backstage once more as you take your bows, picking up your setlists taped to the stage and tossing them into the crowd as souvenirs. He watches the other three descend the stairs as you blow one last kiss to the fans and follow behind. The area springs to life as the workers hustle to prepare for the next band. Once unburdened from your instruments and in-ear monitors, the four of you flock to Frankie, as practiced. You surge ahead slightly faster than the others to fling your arms around his neck and plant an ecstatic kiss on his cheek, right in the bare patch of his beard, breathing him in as you ride your high from performing. Frankie sets you down and shares a smile and laugh before switching back to business and the five of you come up with a gameplan for the rest of the day.

Everything goes smoothly right up until the end. You all stick together for the most part, migrating to different stages together but not too worried about being attached at the hip. Unlike you and Frankie. You know he prefers to linger behind where he can see everyone and you have no problem staying with him. Every once in a while, people will recognize you and get a group photo.

Frankie should’ve never let you go off alone. He got complacent. Sloppy. Even though you weren’t entirely alone, Kate and Madison accompanying you to the bar booth, Frankie can’t help but feel like he failed you.

He thought he had you in view enough. He and Tyler were talking but it shouldn’t have been enough to pull his attention completely. It’s only when Kate’s yell breaks through the back of the crowd in front of them that they realize the situation. The two of them launch forward, Tyler throwing his arm around his sister and Frankie shouldering through the mass of people, his deep voice and broad stature parting the way.

He finds you towards the center. The three of you had been on the way back with your drinks when a group of overly excited and intoxicated fans crowded you. Their volume attracted the attention of other attendees around and pulled them in, everyone suddenly scrambling for pictures and autographs. Being the lead guitarist and vocalist, you were slammed with the brunt of the energy, Madison losing her grip on your arm and Kate being pushed out to the back entirely, where she managed to call Tyler and Frankie.

When he finally reaches you, Frankie doesn’t hesitate to throw his arm around you and secure you against his body, shielding you from any more prying fingers. He quickly scans and spots Madison not far off, veering to her rescue as well. He tucks her under his other arm and rushes back towards Tyler and Kate. Frankie passes Madison off to them as he feels you slipping from his grasp and fully lifts you into his arms, ensuring no one can take you from him. You just bury your face in his neck, gripping his black t-shirt for dear life, and let him carry you away.

Festival security arrives as your group emerges from the crowd and escorts all of you to the security tent. You detach from Frankie briefly so that the on-site medic can check for injuries, but you resume your position in his lap as soon as you’re given the all-clear.

The drive back to the hotel is a blur. You know Tyler takes over as driver so that Frankie can sit with you. He holds your hand the entire way up to your rooms and only lets go to unlock the door to yours. Kate, Madison, and Tyler collectively decide to hide out in the adjoining room to give you time to recover.

You feel yourself coming down from the adrenaline, the chaos starting to settle in your mind. You go through the motions of your post-show ritual. Take your clothes off. Gather your pajamas. Pull your hair back. Take your makeup off. Shower. Bedtime.

Frankie monitors from the corner by the door, watching with a tightly creased brow that he’s definitely going to get a headache from later. You don’t acknowledge him as you move around the room on autopilot. He does his best to stay out of sight of the bathroom mirror as you scrub your makeup off with a wipe.

You open your eyes as Frankie slips back around the corner, caught in the reflection. “I can still see you, you know?” you mutter. You toss the makeup wipe in the trash and splash some water on your face.

You hear him sigh as he gingerly steps back into view, staying half hidden by the edge of the mirror. His eyes are full of guilt and concern, and you feel bad for snapping at him. “I know.” He leans against the wall, face angled down and away from you as he takes off his trademark cap, runs his fingers through his curls, and replaces the cap on his head. “I don’t mean to hover, I know you need your space. I just…” He pauses to take a shaky breath. “What happened was really scary. I just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

You massage your face wash into your skin as you listen, letting it set for a minute before rinsing it off. “I’m fine. Promise.”

It all happens so fast. You hear the girls gasp, not unlike others had throughout the day. You’re more than happy to interact with them, just grateful to even be at the festival and be recognized by fans in the first place. Their squeals grate your ears as more people gather around. You’re suddenly blinded by a phone flashlight being shoved in your face and Madison’s hand leaves your elbow, her fingernails scratching slightly as she tries to hold on. You can hear her calling your name and Kate’s as the three of you are separated by pressing bodies. The roar is suffocating as you’re bombarded with phones and pens and papers and hands everywhere, screams everywhere, you can’t see, you can’t hear, you can't –

“Hey.” Frankie’s voice snaps you back into your body as you stare back at your reflection, tight and sticky as your face wash dries. You sniffle, shaking your head a little to loosen the memory’s grip, and bend down into the sink to rinse your face.

“I gotta shower, Frankie.” You turn and twist the knob in the shower, holding a hand under the spray until it reaches your preferred temperature. When you move to close the door and undress, Frankie is still there watching. Not just watching – observing. Taking in every minute detail and analyzing to determine the best approach. You start to slowly push the door closed, never breaking eye contact with your boyfriend. Just before the wood makes contact with his foot in the doorway, Frankie nods.

“Call if you need anything.” He disappears around the corner, and you hear his tired grunt as he sits in the armchair.

You try not to think. Try to focus on the steps. Shampoo. Lather. Rinse. Conditioner. Rinse. Feel the scratch of the washcloth on your skin. The burn of the hot water as it washes away any evidence of the madness.

But then it’s too hot, like the air as they all crushed you. It’s too scratchy, like their fingernails as they all tried to tear away pieces of you to keep as souvenirs. You’re blinded by soap in your eyes and you see spots that look too much like the endless sea of faces. You can’t see, you can’t breathe, and all you want is Frankie. Frankie can help. Frankie will save you.

Strong arms wrap around you and you snap, pushing and screaming and clawing to get away. You’re lifted out of the shower and collapse onto the cold tile, a familiar body under you.

“Alright, baby, I got you. It’s okay, just let it out.”

You let out a final cry of defeat and go limp in Frankie’s arms, letting him fill your senses. His smell, dirt and sweat and smoke with a hint of his cologne still underneath. His lips in your hair, the scratch of his beard against your temple. His chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm as he holds you in his lap, a warm hand encompassing your thigh and the other tracing feather-light circles on your bicep.

“How did you know?” you manage to choke out in between gasps, fighting to fill your lungs.

“You called me.”

“I did?”

Frankie just nods and sits with you in silence, the static of the running water underscoring the stillness. He doesn’t care that his clothes are now soaked from plucking you straight from the shower. He didn’t think when he heard your choking, he just acted. Like he should’ve done before.

You’re starting to regain control over your breathing when you feel Frankie’s chest stutter. You look up to see his eyes closed, silent tears streaking his face.

“Hey,” you whisper, reaching up to swipe them away. “I’m okay, Frankie. I’m okay now. You’re here-”

“But I wasn’t then.” He fights to keep his voice level as his heart threatens to force its way up his throat. “I was supposed to protect you and I didn’t- I-I couldn’t-”

You trace his lips with your fingertips, interrupting his words as you calm him with a hush. “This was not your fault, Frankie. It all just happened so fast, it could’ve happened to anyone.”

“But it didn’t happen to anyone. It happened to you.” Frankie’s voice has an edge to it now. Angry. “I failed you.”

You twist in his arms, moving to straddle his thighs. Cupping his jaw with both hands, forcing him to look at you, “You have never failed me.” Then, you press your lips to his and it feels like your first breath of fresh air through the smoke.

Frankie reacts immediately. His lips move against yours, hungry, as his hands pull you closer. He needs to know you’re there in his arms and no one will ever rip you away from him.

A shiver runs down your spine and you’re not sure if it’s the contrast of his heat and the cold bathroom floor, or the way his tongue expertly works its way into your mouth, exploring and claiming. You grind down against his hardening length and he detaches your lips, arms tightening to support you.

Frankie shifts and rises from the floor, never once letting you out of his grip as he moves into the bedroom. He groans as you nip at his neck, crawling up the bed with you clinging to his front.

You feel the cool sheets press against your damp bare back and you gasp. Frankie immediately flips the two of you over so you’re on top. His eyes are wild, scanning your face for any hint of distress. You nod, letting him know you’re okay, and slowly slip his cap off his head, dropping it to the floor and clutching fistfuls of his curls with both hands. Frankie moans in relief and turns his head to pepper your inner forearm with kisses.

His mouth works up your arm to your shoulder, across your collarbone. He pauses to nip at your pulse point and fill his lungs with your fresh scent and you rake your nails down his neck to his chest, then his belly. You tug his t-shirt up, forcing him to break contact to pull it over his head.

As soon as it’s off, Frankie scoots forward slightly down the bed and lays back, his curls splayed out on the pillow as he shifts into position. Once settled, he cups the backs of your thighs, nudging you forward. He turns his head to nip at your soft skin as you nestle your knees on the pillow, caging his head between them.

He gazes up at you, a haze growing in his eyes. Stroking your leg with one hand, he traces his fingers up the other before reaching your dripping center. He cups your core in his palm, heat surging through your veins, then travels down. Fingers forming a V, he spreads your lips and a growl vibrates through his body, resonating through you as well.

Your head falls back with a moan and you grip the headboard with both hands. “Fuck, please, Frankie.”

He continues tracing your folds with his calloused fingertips, catching at your leaking entrance. “Please what, baby?”

 You look down to see him staring up at you, pupils blown with desire. “Taste me.”

The hand on your thigh slides up to your hip and Frankie practically shoves you down onto his eager mouth. Your head falls back once more and you lace your fingers through his hair, your other hand still gripping the headboard for dear life.

Frankie’s thumb plays with your clit with practiced precision as his tongue explores every inch of your pussy. You lose yourself in the sensation of his digit applying just the right amount of pressure while he eats away at you like it’s his last meal, the scratch of his beard as his jaw works supplying extra friction against your thighs.

You gasp when Frankie finally plunges his tongue into your hole, twisting and sucking down your sweet juices. You can’t help but move your hips in tandem with his strokes and your moans rise in pitch whenever the tip of his nose brushes your bundle of nerves. Frankie removes his thumb, cupping your cheeks with both hands and pulling them apart. You bite back a squeal as his tongue ventures back to your asshole and prods at the tight ring.

He retreats before exploring any further, thirsty again for your arousal. You’re fully riding his tongue as your pleasure reaches its peak. You look down at him between your thighs and find his eyes wide open, drinking in your euphoria, like he’s intent on never letting you out of his sight again. His piercing stare is enough to send you over the edge and you lose your grip on the headboard. Searching blindly for a hold as your back arches, Frankie reaches for your arm, fingers wrapping around your elbow and holding you down on his face. His groans ripple through you, prolonging your high, as his hips rut up into the air, begging for relief.

Frankie releases you as you come down from your orgasm, immediately sliding down his body, placing kisses along his skin until you reach his jeans. Your hands shake as you rush to unbutton them and pull down the zipper. He lifts and shimmies his hips to help you yank them down his thighs, flinging them behind you without looking.

You lean forward to kiss along the waistband of his boxers, licking and nipping at the skin and nuzzling your nose in the coarse hairs trailing below the undergarment. Frankie’s hips buck and he almost whines as he grabs at you. You finally free his cock from the tightening fabric, mouth watering as if in a Pavlovian response. He’s thick and heavy, twitching from the lack of contact. You move to take his leaking head into your mouth as he took you into his, but Frankie’s hands are too fast, too desperate.

He sits up and positions you above his lap, fingers massaging your hips as you grind your still dripping pussy along his length. “So wet for me, baby. I need to be inside you. Please,” he pants in your ear. He’s been apart from you for too long already. He needs to be close, as close as possible.

You nod and breathe out an “okay” and Frankie shifts up the bed to rest his back against the headboard. You lift up and reach behind you to grip his cock, taking a moment to massage his balls. Frankie lets out a strained moan and you guide him inside you, sinking down onto him.

You breathe deep and controlled as his tip parts your walls, practically sucking him in. You pause when your pelvises meet, his hair tickling your clit deliciously. He’s buried deep in your cunt, perfectly molded around him, warm and wet. Frankie mouths at your neck, leaving his mark, and massages your breasts with both hands as he gives you time to adjust. He rolls your nipples in his fingers and you clench around him, signaling that you’re ready.

You start slow, rocking your hips against his and feeling his tip nudge that perfect spot inside you. You start a slow pace, rising off his cock and dropping down. Inch by inch until only his tip is inside, then you speed up. Before long, you’re bouncing in Frankie’s lap with his hands on your hips guiding you. He loves to watch the way your tits move with each impact. Hypnotized, he leans forward and captures a nipple in his mouth, circling it with his tongue. You cry out unrestrained as he lightly bites down and your second orgasm of the night washes over you.

Frankie detaches when he feels your walls clamp down on him. He leans back and bends his knees, planting his feet on the bed. Grasping your arms as he did earlier, he braces you and begins thrusting at a fierce pace. You cry out again as his hips slam up into you, the clapping of skin on skin and his throaty groans filling the room.

You know he’s getting close by the way the veins in his neck pop with exertion. Frankie sucks air in through his teeth and drops one hand down to your clit, your freed hand flying down to latch onto his meaty stomach. Frankie chokes out a moan at the prick of your fingernails. “Come on. Come on, baby. One more. You can do it, give me one more.”

You mindlessly chant prayers of “yes” and “please” at the altar of his hips as you gush around him, soaking his cock and leaking out across his thighs and onto the bed.

“That’s it. Good fucking girl. That- fuck, that’s-” A subdued roar erupts from Frankie’s chest as he pulses inside you, coating your greedy walls with rope after rope of cum. The sensation triggers you to squeeze around him, milking him for all that he’s worth.

Frankie sits up and slides his hands up your back, gripping your shoulders from behind and locking you onto him. You seal your lips on his as your shared aftershocks subside.

Still holding you to him, Frankie leans back to rest against the headboard. He rubs your back with his palm as you both breathe heavily, heartbeats syncing and slowing.

“Frankie?” You murmur against his chest, peeking up through fluttering, sated eyelids. He looks down at you, humming in acknowledgement. “Tonight was not your fault.”

Frankie breaks eye contact, sighing and staring out at the hotel room. You reach up and pull his face back down to you.

“Don’t run away from me. Look at me.” You kiss him deeply again, then whisper against his lips. “I love you. I trust you. I-”

“I got you.”

You laugh softly. “You got me. But I got you too.”

The two of you stay curled into each other for a while. You’re just about to drift off when a knock on the adjoining room door startles you awake.

Frankie feels you jerk and squeezes his arms around you. “Yeah?” he calls.

Kate responds from the other side. “Hate to interrupt you guys but…can Mads and I just come grab our stuff real quick and we can camp out over here tonight?”

You bury your face in Frankie’s chest, still plugged with his cock and his cum, and chuckle. You move to get up and make yourself decent but Frankie keeps holding you. Raising an eyebrow at him, he flashes a mischievous smirk, untucks the sheets with one hand, and covers the two of you with a flourish.

“Make it quick!”

Kate and Madison fly through the room, grabbing their clothes and toiletries while dramatically shielding their eyes from you and Frankie. You can’t help but giggle against Frankie’s skin as you listen to their flurry of activity. Finally, you hear one of them exit the room and Kate calls from the bathroom.

“You guys know you left the shower running?”

[sharlmbracta]

at this time period in the night i am a lil paranoid i am constantly swapping between ao3 tumblr and blender that's ok it's normal for me it happens to me daily and working with him gives me energy :)

[reiderwriter]

Flirting with the FBI

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word count: 7.1k

Request: Hiiii!! This is my first time requesting anything on this app, but Spencer reid has me in a chokehold. So, I was thinking that the reader is the unsub, and she's like this very good hacker who keeps teasing the fbi cause she's bored or something so she keeps sending hints about who she is or where she is but they keep getting nothing on her. And all of this just keeps getting on Spencer's nerves. And so when Spencer finds her, she keeps teasing him and acting like a brat so he "disciplines" her and takes her roughly and maybe a bit of spanking???

Warnings: a lot tbh - mentions of case details, mentions of domestic violence and police brutality, reader is a possible target of a serial killer, bad tech skills from the writer who really couldn't be bothered to do anymore research than the actual CM writing team, rough Dom Spencer, brat reader, sexual innuendo, semi-public sexual play, spanking, dirty talk (good girl, brat etc.) fingering, raw sex/creampie, aftercare, slight dacryphilia (crying kink) and bimbofication.

A/N: My last fic was a heartwarming family fic, and now I'm back to being depraved. Apologies to anyone here for cute fluff 😭

Masterlist

You always thought hacking the FBI mainframe would be hard, but it's one of the easiest things you've done all week.

If they were going to sit around doing nothing while a serial killer ran around in their own backyard, then obviously, they needed a helping hand. Or a helping poem or two.

Getting into their security camera feed was just an added bonus.

You grabbed your bowl of popcorn and settled into your desk chair, clicking open the window to find which room exactly they would gather in to freak out together.

You made sure to get their attention, blacking out all the computers in the office as they ran to a backroom where a very distraught looking blonde woman was sat. She was evidently the go-to tech support of about six agents who quickly ran to her room to figure out what the issue was. It was show time.

“There once was a serial killer,

Who ate boys and girl both for his dinner,

He cut, diced and slashed,

Left the feds quite abashed,

So I leave this message to be clearer”

The poem scrolled onto their screen on a loop, flashing in and out quickly before you let the computer systems relax again.

You thought they'd panic, scramble for a pen or paper or something, but none of the agents moved until the flashing was over.

You watched curiously as an older man took charge of the scene, likely directing the woman at the desk to figure out who you were, where you lived, and what your social security number was. She got to work quickly, and he moved on to the other agents.

None of them had written the poem down. None had even taken a picture, but one man started talking, and for a while, all eyes and attention in the room were focused solely on him. His hands moved as his mouth did, as if he were casting a spell over the room as he spoke. Even more intriguing was the fact that he rarely seemed to make eye contact with any of them as he spoke. He wasn't conversing or giving directions. He was simply talking.

And you really wanted to listen in.

The younger man began to walk and you watched him quickly pace over to a whiteboard, switching from one feed to another as he made his way there, and pick up a pen before notating the poem perfectly.

Whoever this man was, he was making you feel more and more excited about the game of cat and mouse you had begun with the FBI. You weren't entirely sure if he was to be the cat or the mouse, though.

A few days later, they'd seemingly lost the motivation to work, so you again did their job for them.

With another accompanying limerick to help them along, of course.

“There once was a bullpen full of agents,

Who thought they were very surveillant,

But a simply code crack,

And there system did hack,

A young girl who lived quite adjacent.”

This time, you let the words linger on the screen longer, as you slipped your information into their files, leaving more bread crumbs they could follow to the real villain.

The Agent - Doctor, you had since learned - took up his pen once again and scribbled your first poem next to your most recent.

Doctor Spencer Reid. An IQ of 187, three PhDs and however many Bachelor's Degrees, a member of the Behavioural Analysis Unit, and, as you could somehow tell from the grainy security footage, incredibly attractive man.

He was calm, again talking with his hands as he notated, again drawing the rooms attention like he was the sun and everything needed to orbit him to sustain life. You wondered what it would be like to fluster him.

Typing something out quickly, you broke back into the FBI system. It was risky doing it again so soon again, knowing that their tech analyst was already actively hunting you down, cyber-wise. But you couldn't resist.

“The tall, dark and handsome employee,

How I do wish that he could enjoy me,

I would gladly submit,

we match wit for wit,

But he's trying his best to arrest me.”

The BAU team stood silent on the camera before the two women on the team burst into rambunctious laughter. The camera feed was archaic, black and white, and grainy to boot, but even you couldn't miss the red stain against Doctor Spencer Reid's cheeks. A bonus was the other gentlemen subtly posturing, trying to figure out exactly which of them was “tall, dark, and handsome.”

The payoff for that poem was so great that over the course of the next few days, you kept serenading him with love poems among your quick hints about the actual crime being committed.

You'd first suspected the man of being dangerous when you'd seen the state of his wife. 19 domestic disturbance calls in two months, 0 arrests, and 1 very cushy job as a police detective. You'd done some simple computer programming for your local precinct, inputting data from cases into an algorithm that helped track everything easier, so you'd been intimate with cases that he'd handled.

A pattern had emerged, a series of murders of “undesirables,” people the city didn't care about when alive and certainly didn't have the resources to allocate to after their deaths. Prostitutes, the homeless, and runaway foster kids. All missing or dead, all cases handled by the same officer. The officer that lived next door to you and was one beer away from beating his wife into submission 5 days a week.

After your third 911 call, you'd been notified of your contract termination with the precinct. After the tenth, you noticed parole cars driving by every hour.

By call number 19, you were sure it was a miracle he hadn't tried to have you arrested.

So you turned back to the FBI to see what they could do about a man who treated his wife, and basically everyone else, like scum of the earth.

“Please don't get sidetracked by my hacking,

I'm a good girl, your team I am backing,

the killer, you see,

Is right now hunting me,

You're the ones who can do better tracking.”

You watched the tension snap back into place in the office as, for the first time, Spencer Reid was silent at your message. They all got back to work quickly, going over the files you'd dropped in their servers.

That night, Spencer Reid stayed in the office late, reading through piles and piles of files and looking for the connection he needed. You watched in pity, feeling almost guilty that you'd placed this burden on him instead of just approaching them honestly. But you'd called the police before, and it hadn't worked, so getting attention anyway you could was the only way to go.

You watched for so long that you began noticing his small habits. Each time you sensed frustration, he would run a hand through his hair and tug it slightly. When he found something, he leaned in closer to the page, as if his proximity to the words would make them clearer. Finally, he stood and began clearing his files. But you weren't quite ready to sign off yet, the shouting already beginning in the apartment next to yours, so you quickly typed out the first thing that came to mind to get him to stay.

“There once was a doctor called Reid,

Who I simply and truly just need,

I would lie on my back,

And then let him attack,

Any inch of my body with his seed.”

He fumbled the files in his haste to remove your words from his screen, from every screen now in the building, face awash with embarrassment as he looked around for some sign that no one witnessed your words.

Luck was not to be had as the tech analyst - Penelope Garcia - came shooting out of her office to join him in the near empty bullpen, and the older team leader - Aaron Hotchner - also looked out over the bannister from his office as they bore witness to your seduction.

You were driving Spencer Reid crazy.

He'd spent the last two weeks tracking down a serial killer who may or may not exist based on the word of a set of limericks delivered to the BAU through illegal means that had begun unabashedly flirting with him.

This latest limerick was his last straw.

“The cameras are how I can see you,

I do find myself enjoying the view,

His hair is so fine,

I wish he was mine,

The agent with more PhDs than two.”

“Another score, pretty boy, it was about time someone noticed your good looks instead of your brain for once.” Morgan patted him on the shoulder, barely containing his glee and laughter.

“She's watching us through security feed, and that's all you have to say?” he grumbled, writing out this limerick again, the words to the others burned into his brain. “She's playing with me.”

“It sure sounds like she'd enjoy doing just that,” Emily laughed from her desk, “but I think she might be right, Spencer. Every case file she's given us has suspicious activity on it. They're all unsolved, but the victims aren't linked.”

“He's crossing race and gender boundaries, but he's hitting undesirables.”

They had a case because of you. It didn't mean he wouldn't enjoy handcuffing you and putting you in a cell once this was all finished.

“WE'VE GOT ANOTHER ONE,” Penelope shouted from her office, to no avail. If it was at one computer, it was on all of them.

“The agents grew closer by day,

As the killer wanted to escape,

He paced across the floor,

As I watched by his door,

Getting closer than the agents could say.”

He paused then for a second, thinking through each of the limericks in turn and the panic began.

“Closer than… Emily, the officer that took in all of the cases, what was his name?”

“Officer Falstaff, why?”

“I think he might be our killer. And I think he knows she's on to him, or if he doesn't, he will soon.” He stood suddenly, grabbing a file and sprinting to Penelope’s office, Emily and Morgan trailing close behind.

“Spencer, wait-”

“No time. If we want them both alive, we have to move now.”

Throwing the door to Penelope’s room open, he didn't even bother with niceties.

“Can you get her a message?” He demanded, panting from the short run.

“A wha-? Spencer, what are you talking about?”

“Can you send the hacker a message? Or leave her one so she can find it when she comes?”

Penelope swivelled around in her chair once again, doing who-knows-what to answer his question.

“There's no telling what she actually sees in our servers, Spencer, we didn't see any breach in classified files, the only thing she's done is read your personal file and drop us hints.”

His hands closed into fists as he nodded along. “So no?”

“No, Spencer, I'm sorry. Why? Are you starting to grow fond of our little helper.”

“She's not our little helper. She's a criminal. And she'll be dead soon if I don't confirm with her that we have the right guy - excuse me.”

The anger was washing over him now, as he left the room to get some air, getting only as far as the corridor before slamming an open palm into the wall and resting his forehead against it for a moment, just thinking.

The stress of the case was almost too much for him as he turned around and rested his back against the wall, sliding down it until he was sat on the floor. He may have despised you at that moment, but he didn't want you to get yourself killed.

Something nagged him, still, some stress or anger that hadn't yet surfaced, or some case fact he was missing. A glint at the corner of his eye had him looking up to the camera currently trained directly on him.

Computers are useless, he thought to himself, when you can send a letter.

The next time you sat down at your desk, you weren't exactly shocked to see an up close and personal shot of Aaron Hotchner - they'd turned your security stream into a one way facetime and you were sat directly opposite the big boss himself in an interrogation room.

“Checkmate, I guess,” you said, waiting for the man to move.

A signal from behind the camera let him know you were online and watching. He picked up a pen and paper and scribbled down something before holding the note out to you once more.

The name and location of the bastard next door. They'd done it, and now you simply had to drop your evidence, shut down your computer, and wait for the sirens to sound.

You felt slightly sad typing out your last message, knowing that you had no more reason to stay in touch with the team now. Still, you were only human and couldn't resist the chance to say something more.

“Aaron Hotchner and his clever team,

Working with you has been like a dream,

When Reid comes it is wet,

And my mind is all set,

Oh, I do wish that he'd make me cream.”

The camera turned seconds after your message was sent, and there he was, reading intently, frow creased in annoyance as he tried to remain calm. He, too, picked up a pen and paper.

“I have questions,” the paper said when he turned it around. Holding it up for a few seconds before returning his pen to paper. You typed out a message before he could finish dictating his, though.

“When you find me there's lots for me to say,

I can't help simply feeling this way,

Your profile I read,

Can't believe you're a Fed,

I yearn for you all night and day.”

Somehow, the lines between his brow deepened as he quickly scribbled out another message. This one wasn't a question, though. It was simply two words.

He'd written your name on that paper. He'd found you.

You weren't sure if the tingle that ran up your spine was fear or anticipation. One one hand, you'd likely committed multiple felonies in the pursuit of justice, and the SWAT team about to pick up the killer was going to knock for you, too. On the other hand, it was pretty much a given that you would be seeing Spencer Reid in person in the next few hours.

“The Doctor had finally cracked it,

The only identity that could fit,

The pretty young thing,

Who'd been flirting with him,

And was thinking of sitting on his…”

You sent a second message along with the first.

“I couldn't make this one rhyme, Doc. Come and get me.”

The sound of the FBI outside your neighbour's door had you stepping away from the computer finally. It was time to get ready to see him. You stepped out of your robe and into the shower as you waited to be collected and hauled into a police vehicle.

xxx

So far, you were a bit disappointed by the look of the BAU offices. It was smaller than it appeared on the CCTV, and you hadn't exactly given the tour. Unless the whole tour was the wall from the elevators, through the bullpen and straight to interrogation room one. You were also slightly embarrassed that you had yet to be greeted by any of your favourite characters yet. The lead swat officer had led you in some desk agents dropping by to have you fill out some simple documents - waiving your rights and all that. You'd seen not even a single member of the BAU since dropping in two hours ago, but you felt his eyes on you.

You faced the mirror, trying your best to stare straight through it and into the man beyond.

Spencer Reid was there. He had to be. He was too curious to be anywhere else. You smiled at him through the mirror and waited.

You were right, of course. Spencer stood on the opposite side of the one-way window and watched you look for him in every inch of the glass. He watched you squirm when you couldn't find anything, watched you pick at your nails as he made you wait.

He watched you cross and uncross your legs, the short skirt you'd slipped into just before you left providing just enough mystery to catch his eye and his breath.

He was annoyed, frustrated, a little bit impressed, anxious, and - to his peril - turned on.

“Spencer,” Hotch said, breaking the man's concentration. “We can't keep her that much longer. Go in and say something, or I'll cut her loose.”

Reluctantly, he pulled his eyes away and stepped out of the waiting room before letting himself into yours.

“Miss Y/N, my name is Doctor Spencer Reid, I'm a profiler working with the Behavioural An-”

“You're joking, right?” You asked, eyes lighting up, spine straightening as you looked up at the man. “I know who you are, Doc.”

“Please call me Doctor Reid,” he asked, setting down a file on the table and looking over the desk at you.

“Oh, I don't even get your first name.” You lifted your leg and ran it along the side of his until he moved his chair back, just out of reach. You pouted as he began reading through documents, asking you to confirm exactly which technical breaches you were responsible for.

“And the breach at 1:27pm on Thursday 5th-”

“Yes, that was me, too. They were all me, Doc, is that all? Are we finished now?”

“I don't know, are we finished? Can I leave?”

“No,” you shouted, just as he stood up to gather his things. “No, don't go. I want to talk to you.”

He sat back down, finally looking at you instead of words on a page.

“Do you enjoy attention, Miss Y/N?” He asked, voice cold but gaze burning like fire into your skin.

“As much as anyone does.”

“Do you enjoy my attention?” The words hung between you for a few minutes as you watched him carefully, searching for the right answer.

“What do you think, Doc?”

“Doctor Spencer Reid,” he repeated reflexively.

“I know your name,” you smiled, and he finally looked away, breaking contact to regroup for a second.

“We have reason to believe you used your backdoor into our system to access my personal file, is that correct?” It may have been asked as a question, but Spencer Reid already knew the answer.

“Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

You laughed at the simple question, sure that your behaviour until this point was evidence enough to answer it.

“Why? Because you're attractive and your smart and-”

“Why haven't you used the content of the files as leverage? I've been digging at you for the last half hour, and you have plenty of ammunition to throw back at me, yet you haven't. Why?”

For the first time in a while, you were speechless.

“Oh. Wow. Should I have said something? Would you have felt more comfortable if I were a horrible person using your background to make you feel vulnerable?”

“Why, Y/N?”

You sighed and looked back up at him.

“I'm interested in you. That's it. Honestly, there is nothing in your file more interesting than how you look running your hands through your hair.”

His jaw clenched and unclenched before he let out a sigh.

“So you're a compulsive liar.” He said it so finitely it was like a kick in the teeth.

“Or maybe you're just insecure. I can help with that.”

He shot you another warning look as a grin spread over your lips. Yes, it was very fun to mess with Spencer Reid.

“FBI Agents aren't allowed to sleep with suspects.”

“You want to sleep with me?”

His eyes went wide as he realized his mistake, mouth opening and closing as he tossed another annoyed look in your direction.

The door to the interrogation room opened, and Reid quickly bolted out of his seat as Aaron Hotchner entered. The two men shared a nod before the younger man left the room entirely.

“Such a shame, I thought we were really getting somewhere.”

To your surprise, Hotchner’s lips curled up in a laugh as he sat down, straightening his suit.

“Miss Y/N, we've reviewed the information you've given us and taken into account your motives, and the FBI has decided not to prosecute you for your actions.”

You sat for a minute, Hotch doing the same, the both of you caught waiting for each other to say something or continue.

“But?” You prodded, knowing there was more left to say.

“But, we'd ask for your cooperation on cases in the future that require technological man-power. In a consultancy role, of course. You wouldn't be given a badge or a gun or any clearance, and you'd need to be with an agent at all times.”

You tapped your fingers against the desk, trying to figure out if this deal was beneficial or not.

“I'll do it if I can pick the Agent.”

Now, the man was fully smiling at you or giving you what you assumed passed for a smile in his books.

“We had recommended Doctor Reid for the role. Of course, if you're more comfortable with another agent, you can-”

“Doctor Reid is perfect, thank you.”

The man nodded and stood, and you stood with him as he led you quietly out of the room.

A flustered Spencer Reid exited the adjoining room, hurrying to catch Hotch before he really signed his life away to you.

“Hotch, what is this?” He demanded, stopping the man in his tracks. They both paused, turning around and moved a few feet awaywfrom.you whispering out their argument.

You couldn't catch most of it, but you did happen to catch the phrases “man-eater,” “I'm not good with people,” and “Spencer, this will be good for you.” Victory in the end went to Hotch, who promptly turned on his heel and kept walking down the hall.

“I work here now,” you said, grinning up at Spencer.

“No, you don't.”

“According to your boss, I do. And you're my babysitter.”

“You're a criminal. You hacked into the FBI database to leave ominous clues to multiple murders.”

“If you call those ominous clues, I'm curious how people usually flirt with you.”

“They don't. Why…why are we having this conversation?”

He stormed off ahead of you, and you quickened your pace to catch up to him, following him down a familiar hallway to what was obviously tech central at the BAU.

“Spencer, seriously? You're walking around looking like that, and no one hits on you?”

He stopped abruptly, and you ran into his back before he turned around to scowl at you again.

“Can we keep this serious, please?”

“I'm very serious about flirting with you, and I'm stumped why more people aren't.”

“Okay, let's go somewhere and talk,” his hand landed on your waist, readying his grip to forcibly move you if need be.

“I thought that's what we were doing.” Instead of allowing him to move you, you leaned into his touch, stepping closer and raising a hand to his chest, as his head dipped to maintain eye contact.

“No, this isn't talking, this is some weird foreplay I've never heard of, and I'd like you to leave my office if you're going to continue,” the woman sat at the desk exclaimed, horror and amusement fighting a battle for her facial expressions. “I like to keep my office a no trauma zone, so please take a walk to the nearest bed or storage closet or car and you can shove your tongues down each other's throats in peace and out of my sight, please and thank you.”

Spencer tried to step away, but a hand on his tie kept him close and kept his eyes on you. You poked your head out around him and smiled at the other woman.

“Sorry to disturb you. I'm Y/N. Based on the tech, I assume we will be working with each other soon.”

“Oh my gosh, you were, like, my number one most hated person last week. Penelope Garcia, tech analyst.”

“I'm sorry about that. If it makes it any better, it was really hard to get past some of your firewalls. And I couldn't even touch the classified files.”

“Apology accepted, on the condition that you lead young Reid out of my office right now before he explodes.”

You grinned and grabbed the man's hand, sending Penelope a quick goodbye as you pulled him out of the room.

He stumbled behind you for a few moments before catching up and pulling you in a different direction, keeping your hands intertwined as he bee-lined for the elevators and pushed the button to go down.

It arrived, and he pulled you in, not releasing your grip until the doors were fully closed and you were alone.

“Getting me all alone, Doc? What do you have in mind?”

“I'm driving you home.”

“My apartment is a crime scene, and I have no family in the city.”

“What about friends?”

“I've been stalked by a homicidal police officer for the last month and barricaded myself into an apartment. Do you think I have friends?”

His gaze was somewhat softer as he looked at you again. You saw the math happening in his head as he tried to figure out what to do with you. You also saw his brain short circuiting when you wrapped yourself around his arm.

“We're friends now, Doc. Isn't that right?”

“What?”

“We're friends,” you repeated again, tone becoming a little defensive in a pout.

“We are not friends, Y/N. We've known each other for less than 6 hours, and we haven't engaged in any friendly conversation.”

“We've known each other for two weeks, and I've been more than friendly enough for the both of us.”

The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. Gesturing for you to go first, Spencer hurried you out of the elevator and into the parking garage.

“Trust me, Spencer, deep down, part of you really wants to be friends with me,” you said poking his chest with a finger. You couldn't resist flattening your hand against his surprisingly hard chest and letting the hand drop slightly.

“And an ever deeper down part of you doesn't want to be friends at all,” you smiled at him.

He caught your wrist before it could reach his belt buckle, your unconscious finish line, spinning you around and dragging you to his car.

The biting cold of metal cutting into your wrists was the first indication that maybe Spencer Reid wasn't as easy to mess with as you'd hoped. He closed the handcuffs around your wrists and handed you into the car as you gaped at him.

“Spencer!”

“Doctor Spencer Reid.”

“I’m not a criminal, Spencer, let me go.”

“I'll let you go when you prove to me you can behave.”

You pouted as he strapped you into the car and closed the door, walking around to the passenger side before letting himself in.

“What's next? Are you going to gag me?” You scoffed as he turned over the engine and began backing out of the parking lot.

“No. I think you'd enjoy that too much.”

The drive to Spencer's apartment was long and quiet as you sat pouting in the passenger seat. Every few seconds, you twisted and moved your arms, fidgeting left and right so he could see how much the restraints bothered you. Luckily, he'd handcuffed your hands in front of your body, so you still sat somewhat comfortably, but you didn't want him to know that.

He pulled up to the building and turned off the engine, pulling out his keys.

“Let's go,” he said, not even sparing you a look as he climbed out.

“Spencer, I'm handcuffed. How do I even get out?”

“You'll figure it out. You're a smart girl, right?”

He closed his door and began walking, and you quickly fumbled your way out.

“Spencer… Spencer, your neighbours are going to ask questions about you bringing a handcuffed girl into your apartment!” You whispered at him as you paced behind him, somehow running to catch up with his mere walk.

“I don't have neighbours like you, Y/N. They won't notice a thing.”

“Right, okay. And when you murder a dozen people over a six month period, they won't hack the federal government.” You rolled your eyes as he unlocked the door, taking your arm and finally handing you into the apartment.

It was dark and cold, and you shivered, feeling his body pushed in right behind yours, closing the door before he felt around for the light switch.

When the lights turned on, you blinked, adjusting to the light again as he walked you further into the apartment, hands on your hips as you slowly stumbled forward.

“Can you take the handcuffs off now?” You asked, looking over your shoulder at him.

“And let you touch my things? No.”

You shook off his hands and walked further into the room.

“You know I can still mess with your stuff with my hands tied up like this,” you said, walking to the nearest bookshelf.

“Whoops, look at that,” you said, pulling a book off the shelf and letting it fall to the floor between you with a thud.

“Y/N!” He exclaimed, voice pitched up in exasperation.

“Oh, this stack of books on the ground looks well organized. Oopsie!” You acted out tripping over the books, sending them flying in different directions.

“One more time, Y/N, mess with my stuff one more time-”

You didn't hear the words as you pulled yet another book off his shelf and let it tumble to the ground.

He was on you in seconds, lifting your wrists and pinning them to the top shelf, pressing his body against yours as he stretched you out.

You gasped at both the sudden contact and the tight grip he now had on your hands.

“Tell me, do you actually want to be in control, or do you just think you should want to be in control?”

“What's the difference?”

“The difference is how much you enjoy it. I think you're only being a brat to get a rise out of me. You're doing this because there's no one else in your life that will give you exactly what you crave."

"And what would that be?"

"Attention," he whispered into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Great, thanks for the therapy. Are you going to show me how much I can enjoy relinquishing control now?”

“Brat,” he spat at you.

“Fed,” you spat back.

“You have a problem with law enforcement?” He asked, his breath hitting your ear as you tried not to shiver again at his touch.

“My neighbour was a serial killer whose day job was police brutality," you said, as if the answer was obvious, but Spencer still stared, waiting for true confirmation.

“Yes I have a problem with law enforcement. What, are you going to spank me?”

His eyes lit up, and you suddenly wondered if you'd made a mistake.

“You'd like that, wouldn't you?”

“N-No.” You stuttered, but he'd already begun moving you over to his couch.

“It was a joke. Spencer, it was a joke, don't-”

You underestimated his strength as he flipped you around and guided you down over his lap. Keeping your hips raised, he used one hand to hold you down while the other pushed up your tight skirt.

“S-Spencer, I really don't think-”

“Then don't think,” he said, bringing his hand down hard on your ass as you cried out in shock and pain.

“Stop thinking. You think too much, let me do it for you.”

With each hit, your shock grew fuzzy, melting into pleasure as you felt wetness pooling between your thighs.

The doctor you thought would be an easy target was not sadistically returning every teasing word back to you with his hands, letting bruises blossom all over your ass as he delivered painfully arousing strikes.

His hand stopped and he rubbed your ass as you twitched at the gentleness, panties sticking to the folds of your cunt as you absent mindedly pushed up into his touch.

“See, now you're listening,” he said, fingers trailing down to touch you over the sopping undergarments.

With two quick fingers, the crotch of your panties peeled away from your skin and he was plunged deep inside you, fingers pressing in as his thumb found its way to your clit.

“Fuck, Spencer-”

“Doctor Reid. You can use my full title now or you don't get to cum.”

“D-Doctor Reid, please!” His thumb rubbed slowly over your clit bit his fingers didn't move as you shuddered and contracted around them.

“Please what?” He asked, voice light as if he wasn't two knuckles deep in you already.

“Please make me cum, Doctor Reid!”

“Good manners,” he said as he finally began pumping his digits in and out of you, spreading your legs wider as you clawed your hands into his couch cushions to ground yourself in the moment. His spare hands left your wrists, and you felt them again, delivering small, almost cute hits to your ass as you twitched around his fingers, shying away from the painful contact.

“That's it, Y/N, let yourself relax,” he whispered, shifting his weight underneath you as you became aware of the tent in his pants.

Your brain was jello as you tried to bounce back on his fingers, chasing your oncoming orgasm.

“Look at you, trying to cum on my hands. You're just an attention-seeking slut, right?”

His fingers continued ppimg as your tongue hung loosely in your mouth.

“Answer me, or I'll leave you here high and dry, Y/N. Tell me you're an attention seeking slut that's been fingering yourself to the thought of this for weeks.”

“I-I'm an a-atten…tion seeking s-slut,” you stifled a moan and bit back tears as he pressed another finger inside of you. “Spencer I can't I need to cum,” you cried, tears spilling down your cheeks pathetically.

“Say it.”

“I'm an attention seeking s-slut that's been th-thinking about this-”

“Fingering yourself,” he corrected.

“Fingering myself to the thought of this for w-weeks,” you cried, sniffing now as your thighs shook in anticipation.

“What a nasty little slut,” he said as you finally came, your cum running down his fingers as he kept his hands moving.

Your tears were falling freely now as you bit back little sobs and chokes of emotions, the pleasure from the orgasm almost too much to handle.

Underneath you, Spencer shifted, freeing himself from his position and laying you fully down on the sofa as your legs still shook.

“There once was a doctor called Reid,” he said, unzipping his pants as he took up his place behind you.

They were your words, and your body signalled warnings everywhere as his hands pulled your hips up once more, pulling your knees up too to bend under you, laying you face down ass up.

“Who I simply and truly just need.”

He pulled the panties down to the crook of your knees before leaning down over you so he could deliver the next few lines as whispers into your ear.

“I would lie on my back, And then let him attack, Any inch of my body with his seed.”

A weak moan escaped your lips as he sank his cock inside of you, lips still pressed against your ears.

“I don't want you on your back, though. I much prefer you like this.”

His cock slid out of you and returned with a speed and strength that had your eyes rolling back in your head.

He was thick, maybe a little longer than average, and he filled you perfectly using your cum as lubricant.

“Such a good listener, now, Y/N. I like you like this,” he said with a moan, thrusting hard and deep inside of you.

You didn't talk. You could only drool and moan into his couch as he emptied your brain one thrust at a time.

You didn't think about how he wasn't wearing a condom. You didn't think about how he'd spat your words back at you, ready to fill you with his seed. You just sat in a pool of your own pleasure and let Spencer Reid use your body as you'd been begging him to for weeks.

He raised your hips and gave one last thrust, stilling there for a second as he filled your empty body and mind with his cum and his entire being.

If you weren't obsessed with Doctor Spencer Reid before this, you certainly were now.

He pulled out of you quickly, wiping his cock on your skirt before hurrying off to the bathroom to clean up.

Your brain was still absent when he returned, cleaning you off and finally removing the handcuffs. He removed your clothes, replacing them with his spares as he threw the soiled ones into the wash.

When you regained your wits or what was left of them, you were laid out in his bed, wrapped in a blanket and stuffed into a sweater and sweats, fully covered from head to toe. Spencer was picking up his keys and trying his shoelaces.

“Where are you going?’ You asked sleepily, stumbling to the doorway. Your legs were still shaky, and your movement was already limited. You knew that tomorrow, the use of your limbs would be nonexistent.

“Back to the office. Now that you're not around, maybe I'll be able to get some actual work done.”

“Spencer,” you said, forcing him to turn around to look back at you.

Before he could say anything else, you pressed your lips to his, hot and needy, wrapping your arms around his neck as he kissed back, slipping his tongue into your mouth and pressed you into the wall next to the door.

When you both pulled away for breath, you detangled your limbs, smoothing out his shirt and readjusting his tie.

He looked down at you, waiting for you to say something else as you met his gaze, grinning at him.

“I look forward to working with you, Doctor Reid.”

[virtualreader]

broken hearts and healing souls – part 2

deanwinchesterxfem!reader

summary: a few days after the unexpected events that took place on the night of your biggest argument, Dean has a nightmare. And both of you are forced to face the feelings you had pushed aside.

word count: 2,1k.

warnings: nightmares, mentions of anger, kiss, regretful Dean.

part 1

a/n: you've been asking quite a lot for a second part for this fic, so here it is. I'm not entirely satisfied with the ending, but I still hope you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. also, as the part 1 was based on a song, i opted to base part 2 in another one — I’ll be good - James Young.

Another hunt, another city, and yet another sleazy motel room. But you and Dean still hadn't exchanged more than the essentially necessary words.

Ever since that night when you kissed, Dean had been ignoring you with perfectly applied silent treatment, as if you had turned into a ghost. Not that it was totally bad, a part of you preferred not facing the real issue.

Bringing the matter up would be like tearing off a scar, like reopening a wound that had never even closed. Blood would ooze from the raw, exposed skin, once again, and the pain would return, and it would hurt the same way it did when hearing those words escape his mouth: ‘this was a mistake’.

However, another part of you, though small yet present, longed for things to return to normal. To joke around with Dean again, like the time when he had made a hilarious impersonation of the local parish priest, and you had laughed until your stomach hurt. To get ingenuously mad with him for teasing you just because you were younger than he was. Damn, if you could go back in time you would have simply avoided that first argument altogether.

You stared at the ceiling, moisture stains here and there and the paint that once covered it, flaking off, revealing the rough surface underneath. Perhaps it had once been a grand and luxurious space, filled with beautiful furnishings and ornate decorations. But now, it was a shadow of its former self, a tired and worn-out shell of a room.

You should have known better. Hell, you did know better. You just didn't want to acknowledge the fact that he had no romantic feelings towards you and never could. You had become a part of the Winchesters' family a long time ago and grew up with them. Chances were Dean considered you his little sister. How could he be romantically involved with you?

I thought I saw the devil this morning Looking in the mirror, drop of rum on my tongue With the warning to help me see myself clearer

The quietness of the room was only interrupted by the occasional sound of a distant car passing by outside and the desultory barking of a dog nearby. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

“What’s gotten into you guys?” had asked Sam the morning after the event, after noticing Dean’s unusual and dismissive behavior.

“None of your business, Sammy.” Dean had replied, not meeting your eyes.

You had tried to talk to Dean several times, but he would always find an excuse to leave the room or change the subject. It was like he was avoiding you, and it hurt more than you cared to admit.

Dean had always been like an older brother to you. You shared so many memories together, from hunting supernatural creatures to simply hanging out and joking around. But maybe, deep down, you wished for something more than just a sibling bond.

Trying to ignore the feeling of emptiness in your chest was hard if not impossible. It was like a piece of you was missing, and you couldn't find a way to fill the void. Knowing this would be the end result, you would never have kissed him.

You may have felt fortunate to find a motel with two available rooms, but your luck ran out when Sam claimed the one with a single bed for himself. So you were forced to share a room with Dean.

I never meant to start a fire I never meant to make you bleed I'll be a better man today

You let out a sigh, feeling frustrated and lonely. You didn't want things to be like this between you and Dean, but you didn't know how to fix it. You knew that you needed to talk to him, to tell him how you felt and try to work things out. But you were scared of what might happen if you did.

You heard a muffled sound coming from the other side of the room. You turned your head to see Dean tossing and turning in his sleep, his face contorted in pain. It was obvious that he was having a nightmare.

With a hand, you tossed the bedsheets along with the flowery comforter away, uncovering your body. You rolled your legs off of the bed and slowly yet surely moved to a sitting position. You tilted your head slightly and tried to take a glimpse of what was going on in the adjoining bed, but failed pathetically due to the scarce lightning.

Feeling concerned, you reached out blindly for the light switch. After a moment of fumbling, you found it and turned it on. The wall-mounted lamp flickered to life, casting a warm, dim light throughout the room. Dean's grimacing expression was now clearly visible, and you hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do next.

“No! No, no!” he growled low, his teeth gritted. “No! Y/n!”

That you were not foreseeing.

You were taken aback by his outburst, not expecting it at all. What could he be dreaming about that would elicit such a strong reaction?

I'll be good, I'll be good And I'll love the world, like I should Yeah, I'll be good, I'll be good For all of the times that I never could

Dean was sweating profusely. His breathing was shallow and ragged, and he was muttering incoherently. Waking him up seemed like an idea. Sure, you were mulish, but you were not some heartless monster.

You reached out and gently shook Dean's shoulder, trying to wake him up from his nightmare.

"Dean," you whispered, hoping that your voice would be enough to pull him out of his dreams. “Dean, wake up.”

He did not respond, and just as you were about to try again, he hastily sat up, his eyes wide, and his breathing heavy.

"Y/n?" he asked, his voice shaking. "Is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me," you replied, relieved to see him awake and alert. "Are you okay? You were having a nightmare."

Dean ran a hand through his hair, looking around the room as if he was trying to orient himself.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said finally, his voice still shaking a little. "It was just a bad dream."

Silence took over the place. You stared at Dean, and Dean stared at you, both waiting for the other to speak first. The tension was thick enough to be cut with a knife, and the eerie environment did nothing but add to it.

"Wanna talk about it?" you asked, sensing that there was more to his nightmare than he was letting on.

Dean hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering over to you before returning to the floor. You could sense that he was struggling to find the right words to say, and as the silence stretched on, you began to feel a growing sense of unease.

My past has tasted bitter for years now So I wield an iron fist Grace is just weakness Or so I've been told I've been cold, I've been merciless

"It was about you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, and you felt your heart skip a beat.

The confession caught you off guard. You were surprised to hear such a heartfelt admission from him.

“Me?” You could feel your pulse quickening as you waited for him to continue.

"Yeah. I dreamed that the demon got to you," Dean continued, his voice still trembling. "That I couldn't protect you. And then...then you were gone."

You felt a lump form in your throat at Dean's words, and you instinctively reached out to place a hand on his arm. Yet, you kept a reasonable distance between the two of you, unsure of how this could alter your current situation. Unsure of whether it could bridge the seemingly unfathomable gap that separated your wounded souls.

"Dean, I'm right here," you said softly. "I'm not going anywhere."

But the blood on my hands scares me to death Maybe I'm waking up today

The mattress dipped while you sat facing Dean.

"I know that," Dean replied, his eyes meeting yours for the first time since he woke up. "But...I don't know. It's like I can't shake this feeling that something's going to happen to you."

You could see the fear and uncertainty etched into Dean's features, and you knew that he was struggling with his emotions. It was hard for him to admit that he was scared, especially when it came to you.

But you also knew that you couldn't keep ignoring the elephant in the room. You needed to talk to Dean about what had happened between you, or you would never be able to move forward.

"Dean," you said, your voice steady but firm.

He looked away, his jaw tight and his hands clenched into fists.

"I messed up,” he uttered, deciding to address the matter before you had a chance to gather your thoughts. “I didn’t want us to end up like this.”

"I know," you said softly, your heart aching at the sound of his voice. "But we can't keep avoiding each other like this. We need to talk.”

Dean let out a sigh and his shoulders slumped, his entire demeanor reflecting the weight of the situation. Dean had always been good at avoiding his feelings, pushing them aside in favor of the mission. But this time, he couldn't do that. You both knew that it was time to stop tip-toeing around the issue and get to the heart of the matter.

"I was scared," he admitted. "Scared of losing you. Hell, I still am. That’s why I didn’t want you to go on hunts anymore."

Dean's voice was low and steady, but there was an underlying intensity to it that betrayed the depth of his emotions. He was laying it all on the line, baring his soul in a way that he had never done before.

I'll be good, I'll be good And I'll love the world, like I should (oh-oh-oh) I'll be good, I'll be good (I'll be good, I'll be good)

Afraid he would retract on opening up to you, you did not dare say anything, instead you fixated your gaze on his glossy, green eyes, encouraging him to continue. He took your hand in his, and his eyes softened.

“I don't think about you as a kid. It's just that…when you love something, you protect it.”

Dean's words hung in the air, the weight of them almost palpable. He looked at you, waiting for a response, his heart pounding in his chest.

The walls around Dean's heart, which had once been so solid and towering, had finally come crumbling down, leaving him vulnerable and exposed. It was clear that there was no going back from this point, as Dean had decided to tear down his emotional barriers and reveal his true self. The honesty and openness that he was displaying left you feeling speechless, as if you were witnessing something truly special and rare.

“Please, y/n. Say something,” he said with his voice at the verge of breaking, when you did not say anything.

“You love me?”

“I can’t pretend anymore. You are everything, everything.” Dean finally confessed, his grip on your hand tightening.

For all of the light that I shut out For all of the innocent things that I doubt For all of the bruises I've caused in the tears For all of the things that I've done All these years, no, yeah For all the sparks that I stomped out For all of the perfect things that I doubt

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. But this time, they weren't tears of sadness; they were tears of joy. You had wanted to hear those words for so long – even if it was not a straightfoward 'I love you' –, but you had never dared to hope that they would be true.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner," Dean uttered. "The idea of losing you, of ruining what we had, terrified me. You were always like a sister to us, and when I first felt something more for you, I didn't want to admit it. But I can't keep pretending that I don't feel this way.”

I'll be good, I'll be good And I'll love the world, like I should Yeah, I'll be good, I'll be good For all of the times I never could

“Dean, I-I…” you tried to say, yet, the words got caught in your throat, the upheaval of the moment hindering your ability to vocalise something coherent.

Delicately, he reached out and carefully tucked a strand of your hair that had come loose behind your ear. His fingers lightly brushed against your skin as he cupped your cheek in his hand, his thumb tracing circles on your skin.

Dean looked at you for a long moment, his eyes softening as he took in your presence. You could sense the shift in his demeanor as the distress that had been etched in his features not five minutes before, had now completely vanished. His eyes seemed to sparkle with a new sense of calmness and peace.

Warmth blossomed in your chest, sparks igniting as Dean leaned in close, lips brushing together, tentatively, for the first time that night, though not the last.

His fingers danced through your hair, caressing the back of your head with the sweetest touch. His lips parted slightly, allowing your tongue to slide inside his mouth, and a hint of cinnamon and vodka mingled together, creating a unique and intoxicating combination that lingered on your taste buds.

Oh, oh-oh Oh, oh Oh, oh-oh For all of the times I never could

“I love you too, Dean.” you whispered in his ear, momentarily pulling away.

And, as you held each other, melting into the kiss, you both knew there was no going back to the way things were before.

@losa12308 – as you requested, I'm tagging you in part 2 (I'm actually thinking of making a taglist)

[dreamescapeswriting]

Stray Kids Reaction || Your Have Another Band Tattoo

PAIRING: Skz x GN!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - March 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

CHAN:

Chan was working on his laptop when you nervously walked into the living room and paced in front of him, pacing so much it was starting to make him a little dizzy from seeing you.

"What's going on? You only pace when there's something wrong?" He chuckled a little, shutting his laptop and putting his work to the side for a bit. You froze in place and stared at him, nervously playing with the sleeves of your shirt as you tried to think of how you were supposed to start this.

"I have something to show you," You swallowed the lump in your throat. You had a tattoo to show him, one that was going to get increasingly harder to hide from him as your relationship progressed. 

"So show me," He chuckled a little and you slowly rolled up the sleeve of your hoodie,

"I got this a long time ago," You told him before he watched you closely, revealing the tattoo of a guitar as well as some lyrics to a song he knew was your absolute favourite.

"Whoa! When did you get that?!" He runs his hands over the tattoo, admiring it as a giant smile beamed on his face.

"When I turned old enough for my first tattoo, I just remember really wanting it but I just...I-I didn't want you to see it and think I was hiding it." You admit before Chan chuckles once again.

"It's unexpected but you're so freaking cute," He gushes before kissing your cheek softly.

"You think so?!" You'd been so worried that he would be upset about it you never thought about him actually liking it,

"Yeah! This tattoo is a piece of your musical journey," He smirks, still running his fingers over your tattoo as you begin to tell him the story of when you first got it.

MINHO:

As Minho got ready for dance practice with you he stared at you, watching as you beamed at the guys talking about something you seemed excited about but there was something that Minho could see wasn't right about you. There was a huge plaster on your bicep,

"What happened, baby?" He cooed, walking up to you and rubbing your lower back a little. Instantly he felt the mood shift as you stared at him, your eyes watering a little.

"You have to promise not to freak out." You'd done everything to hide this tattoo ever since you'd gotten together with Minho but as the summer days grew closer it was becoming clearer that you didn't have much of a choice anymore.

"Why would I freak out?" He chuckles nervously until you slowly pull off the plaster,  his mouth falling open a little as he sees the logo of another kpop band that wasn't his. 

"I-I'm sorry, I got it before we met, they were my favourite band back then." Tears welled up in your eyes and Minho stared at you, 

"Why would I freak out?" He chuckled softly, he was hurt, sure but he wasn't going to get upset with you for getting a tattoo of a band you loved.

"I thought you'd be...mad?" He stares at you before kissing your forehead softly, 

"I could never be mad at you." He told you with a soft smile, kissing your cheek softly as you felt your body heating up.

"Even if they got a tattoo of my name across their ass?" Felix teased earning a glare from the older member and a giggle from you as you hugged Minho tightly.

CHANGBIN:

Changbin had been nervous ever since he'd seen you in the shower that morning, it had been an accident when he walked in on you but now he was more worried about the tattoo he'd spotted.

"Hey, what's going on in that pretty head?" You giggled walking over to Changbin and gently touching his arm. Changbin hesitated, nervously biting his bottom lip as he stared at you.

"I saw your tattoo," He admits. He remembered the small logo that was on your collarbone, your heart dropped a little. You'd been covering it up with a heavy foundation whenever you were intimate with Changbin and you completely forgot about it in the shower.

"I got it a while ago before we were together..." You admit to him, staring at him as you tried to read him for any signs that he was pissed off at you or not.

"They were my favourite band, I loved their music and it really spoke to me." You whispered as you stared at him. Changbin was a mess of emotions, he was jealous more than anything that someone else was on your body other than him.

"It's cute," He whispered, smiling at you as you felt a weight lift off your shoulders.

"You're not mad?"

"At you? Never...But are you planning on getting more?" He arched a brow at you making you laugh a little and kiss his cheek softly.

"Maybe, you wanna draw one for me?"You teased, kissing him softly as he pulled you close to him.

HYUNJIN:

It had been an accident when Hyunjin saw it, he hadn't even meant to see you today but he'd walked into a shop you just happened to be inside of.

"Are you sure you don't want to get it covered? I mean, you could replace the tattoo with something for his band," Your best friend said as you stared down at your hands, you'd confided in her about the tattoo you had on your thigh from another band.

"I don't want to, their music is a part of me but I don't want Hyunjin to hate me for it." He stilled as he stared at the back of your head, your friend freezing as she saw him standing there.

"I could never hate you," Hyunjin whispered as he sat down beside you, your friend quickly went into the changing rooms and gave you both some time alone.

"I'm upset that you felt that you had to hide something from me but I'd never hate you for getting a tattoo of something you like." He reassured you, rubbing your back softly as you sniffled a little, turning and hiding your head in his neck.

"I love you, okay? A tattoo of some other band is never going to change that," He promised before kissing the top of your head softly.

JISUNG:

Trying on outfits for your friend's upcoming wedding was supposed to be fun but Jisung had ended up walking away from you when you'd shown him the last outfit so you'd quickly rushed to get dressed and chased after him.

"What's going on?" You panted when you finally caught up to him,

"I saw it,"

"It?" You frowned, your heart racing from the running you had just been doing but Jisung sighed at you, shaking his head.

"Your tattoo," As soon as he said it your heart raced for a different reason and you felt your mouth run dry.

"I-"

"When did you get it?" He was hurt and with good reason, it wasn't easy when he found out his partner had another man tattooed on their body and he was starting to overthink it.

"A few years ago, before we got together. He was my bias and I just- I was drunk and decided I needed him on my body," You were anxious about the tattoo, it was always something you'd regretted.

"Oh...S-So it's not recent?" He looked at you, the shine gone from his eyes was enough to make your heart sink as you stared at him and whimpered.

"No, baby, no it was from years ago..."You reached out to touch his hand and he sighed a little.

"I'm sorry I freaked out," He mumbled before you bought him into a tight hug,

"Don't worry about it." You whispered, pulling him toward the food court so you could grab something to eat before you continued shopping.

FELIX:

When Felix had spotted your tattoo over a week ago he instantly began to overthink it all, he didn't want to but the idea of you having someone else's lyrics on your body hurt more than he thought it was going to.

"Have you talked to them about it? Maybe it was a mistake?" Jisung offered some advice but Felix shook his head, his head in his hands as he groaned a little.

"Why didn't they just tell me about it? What if it's because they really like the singer?"

"Lix-" Jisung tried to warn him that you were in the room but Felix shook his head, continuing to list off all the things he'd been overthinking for the last week.

"Is that why you've been avoiding me?" You breathed out, dropping down onto the sofa and rubbing his back softly. You'd been trying to get him to talk to you for days but he'd been skillfully avoiding you until tonight.

"A-Avoiding? No." He stutters a little before you kiss his cheek softly.

"The tattoo is from years ago, it was my first ever tattoo," You explained before kissing his cheek softly yet again and earning a blush from him.

"I shouldn't have been freaked out but-"

"I get it, I'd freak out a little too," You reassured him, kissing him softly as he relaxed a little.

SEUNGMIN:

"Hey, I have something to show you," You told Seungmin as you walked into his place, your smile unable to contain as you practically jumped up and down on the spot.

"Okay...." He chuckled watching you closely, you relaxed a little and slowly rolled the leg of your pants up to reveal your thigh.

"Whoa!" His jaw dropped as he saw his Skzoo tattooed on your leg, he gently ran his fingers over the tattoo and you smirked at him.

"It's fresh! You like it?" You wiggled your brows at him and he nodded at you, before looking at another tattoo on your thigh.

"Is that one from your favourite band?" You looked at where his eyes were going and giggled, nodding your head at him.

"When did you get that? I've never seen it!" He chuckled, completely surprised but amazed by you.

"A few years ago, you like that one?" You smile, sitting beside him as he nods, asking you if you have anymore he didn't know about.

JEONGIN:

You'd fallen asleep on the sofa while you and Jeongin were watching a film and he'd seen the tattoo by accident, his eyes staring down at the logo in amazement. It was etched upon your skin and it looked pretty.

"Is the movie over?" You groaned, rolling toward Jeongin who hummed softly.

"Is that a tattoo of your old favourite band?" He arched a brow and you smirked at him.

"Old favourite?"

"Well obviously we're your favourite now," He smirked at you before you smirked, kissing him softly and nodding.

"It might seem strange, but back then...that band really spoke to me, they were so different from anything else...I just-"

"Baby, you don't have to explain yourself to me. Your love for them is yours and I just love seeing your tattoo," He chuckled holding you tightly in his arms.

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[lovelywritinglady]

hi can i recwest a uzui x reader where uzui have a argment and gat a divors and yn is pregnet years later when the child and he rillast that it is his child and has a tak whif yn and trase to fics everifing

if you canpleas do thak you and have a grat day

I’d love to!💜

Mistakes

Tengen Uzui x fem!Reader

You and Tengen got into a heated argument after a demon hunt gone wrong. He says some extremely hurtful words. You decide to leave him because you know you don’t deserve that. What you didn’t know was that you were pregnant with his child. Angst, slight fluff, Tengen being a dick, mentions of pregnancy, cursing, and other mature themes.

Your pov

"You nearly got us killed, what are you and idiot?" My husband Tengen yelled at me.

"It was an accident, I'm sorry!" I yelled back

"You cannot afford accidents like this Y/N!" He roared stepping closer to me causing me to flinch slightly.

"I'm sorry." I whispered

"Sorry won't even begin to cover the fucking stupitity of your actions! You have no right being a demon slayer with how dumb you are. I can't believe I married someone like you!" he yelled looking me dead in the eye with fury.

"Fuck you!" I snapped as my anger began rising as tears filled my eyes.

"Real mature Y/N, get the hell out of my house until you can learn some respect and basic combat moves." he said as he began walking away as I began to sob.

"Where the hell am I going to stay! Tengen, I'm your wife!' I cried walking towards him.

"Hell if I care, just get your things and don't come back until you aren't so incopitent." he snapped walking away into another room.

I stood there unable to think, feel, or understand the situation. My body moved on its own and next thing I knew I was out of mt home with a bag packed walking only god knows where. It was getting dark, but I didn't care all I knew is that I was no longer wanted, needed, or loved by the man that swore he would protect me and love me no matter what. So much for promises. I kept walking until the sun began to rise, my thoughts much clearer now and my tears no longer flowing down my face. I decided to go live with my older sister, Misa, who lives on the other side of the country. Her and I have always been close, and I just hoped I would never see that asshole again.

One Month Later

I feel unbelievebly sick, as every morning and evening I spill my guts out. I have an uncontroable hunger and yet anytime I try to eat something I feel once again that I want to throw up. I feel miserable not just physically, but mentally too. Despite his words, I still love my husband. He use to be my everything, but I suppose I was never his. He claimed that he couldn't believe that he married me and just thinking about those poisonus words make my body ache once more. Tears I try not to spill came fourth with so much eagerness that I had no time to stop them. I hated myself for crying over him, but I suppose I was really crying for the man he use to be. I knew in my heart that I would always love him, but now I can never be with someone who so easily made me feel like my very existence meant nothing. I heard a faint knocking that pulled me out of my thoughts as the sweet voice of my sister filled the room.

"How are you feeling this morning, Y/N?" Misa asked as she sat next to me putting her hand on my forhead.

"Not great." I sighed smiling at her wiping away my tears.

"Y/N, I really think we should get you a doctor. This has been going on too long." She suggested taking her hand off my head.

"I think your right Misa." I sighed

"I didn't want to say anything to you, but I really think you're pregnant." she said in a whisper

"What!" I whisper yelled

"You're showing signs and don't worry if you are. I will always take care of you." Misa reassured

"Lets hope I'm not then." I said nervously.

Two days later the doctor came, she was a sweet older lady that had a warm smile and a small figure. She came into my room and inspected me in all they ways she could. My nerves at this point were all consuming as I really did not want to be pregnant, especially since I knew who the father was.

"My dear you have no fever and no true illness. What you are expierencing, is early signs of pregnancy." she said with a smile

"I see, I guess my sister was right then." I stated sadly

"Are you not happy, I'm sure your husband will be." she stated with a concerned look on her face.

"My husband no longer wants me." I answered doing my best not to cry once more.

"Oh, I am so sorry, my dear." She said grabbing my hand.

"Thank you, I just have no idea what to do now." I said honestly

"That's just something you're going to have to figure out for yourself. At the end of the day you need to do what's best for your child." She spoke seriously

"Yes, I suppose you're right." I sighed

"Of course I'm right dear, I am a doctor." she joked

"Hey, is everything alright in here?" my sister asked as she knocked on the door.

"It will be." I whispered touching my belly.

Three Years And Six Months Later

My son, Kei, is now nearly three years old. He's a rowdy child that seems to always be obsessed with what is going on outside. Whether is rainy, snowy, or sunny, he's always begging to go outside. I can't complain though as I love nature and seeing his little cheeks puffed up when he askes is always so cute. Kei looks a little bit like his father as he got most of his features from me. His eyes are the same color as my ex husband and his personality matches. His hair is a lighter shade of h/c, which gave me relief. I still haven't told Tengen about our son, nor do I want to. Part of me feels selfish, but part of me doesn't want to subject him to a man like Tengen. Although, when they do meet, I hope he is kind to his son. Kei is too sweet and kind to have to be around a father that verbally abuses him. I just couldn't live with myself if I let my baby be hurt by him.

In these three years, I haven't had a full time job. Mostly they have been part time jobs and my sister has been providing for me and my son. She claimes that since she doesn't have a family that this is no trouble, but Kei is old enough where I can start working full time. It took a long time to find job, but one day my sister came into the house screaming that she found a job that was perfect for me.

"Y/N, this is a landscaping job." she nearly yelled in my ear

"Huh, that's a little different than the jobs that I'm looking for, but hey if they are hiring then I'll take it." I said confifently

"Mama what's going on?" Kei asked as he walked into the room with a sleepy expression.

"I'm sorry baby, I didn't mean to wake you up." I cooed opening my arms for my son. He then picked up the pace and ran into my arms crushing me with all of his nearly three year old strength.

"Its okay." he sighed playing with his fingers with a small tired pout

"Your mama just found a job, Kei." my sister said with a smile at her nephew

"Okay." he said disinterested. I smiled at this, he's so small and perfect and despite the fact that my pregnancy was not the easiest, it was worth it.

Two weeks later I found myself walking towards my new job. It was a sunny day and part of myself wished Kei was here to enjoy it with me. I can almost hear his voice calling my name begging me to play with him. I was lucky to have been blessed with him. My thoughts of my perfect child came to a halt as the gates of the house I would be working at came into view. Taking a deep breath I began walking to what I thought was the front door. This property was absolutely beautiful. Everything seemed like it was perfect, not even a pebble out of place. It was a calming place that seemed to inspire peace. For some reason this place looked oddly familiar and it only now hit me that this was the place where the master lived. Tengen had taken me here years ago when he became hashira while I was just starting to become a demon slayer. Before I left, I was one rank away from being hashira. I thought about training again, but now that I have my son I felt it was irresponsible. Plus I could never leave him.

"You must be Y/N." The master suddenly said and it made me wonder how long he was there for.

"Yes sir, its very nice to meet you. Thank you for having me." I said bowing to show respect to him.

"Of course. I am aware of your situation and am happy to give you work here." He said with a smile." Come with me and I'll show you the grounds.

Two weeks later

Working at this mansion feels peaceful and the work is harder than I expected, but the pay is well worth it. Today I raked, cut grass, and tended to the luscious gardens. The sun beamed down on me giving me a slight headache. Thankfully the day was almost over for me so that I could go home to my son and my sister. Kei has been begging me to take him here ever since my sister told him that the hashira train here. I have been reluctant of it since seeing Tengen might be a possiblilty and seeing a child in my arms was a conversation that I simply did not want to have yet, even though I knew one day it would happen. I heard light footsteps approach me. turning my head I saw one of the other workers and smiled at him. He was a kind man that was around my age and he and I had talked a few times.

"Hey there, how's the work today?" He questioned with a sweet smile.

"Same as always although its a little hotter than usual." I responded

"Yeah, but I like it when its hot because I know that cooler weather is around the corner." he said with a content smile

"That would be nice." I chuckled

"Oh, you should know that the hashira will be here tomorrow." he said seriously

"Well, I'll make sure to make myself scarce." I said trying to mask my nervousness.

"Don't, all you need to do is smile and show them respect." He smiled

"Will do." I laughed standing up.

"Well I will see you tomorrow and tell your son I said hi." he smirked

"I'll make sure to tell him, see you tomorrow." I bowed

I watched him leave with a fake smile on my face. As soon as he was out of sight I sighed as my stomach throbbed with uncomfortable uneasiness as I began waking to the shed to put my tools away with my head hung low. I was no where okay with the fact that Tengen was going to be here tomorrow. I thought that maybe I should call in sick, but no one would believe that. Even if they did, I’d feel too guilty about it. The best thing to do was to avoid seeing him and focus on my work. If I keep my head down and not do any quick movements, then he won’t see me, hopefully. My thoughts were completely consumed with my nerves that I didn’t even register that I had bumped into someone until I heard someone speaking.

“Hey watch where you walk, alright.” The voice snapped

“Forgive me, I wasn’t looking.” I said frantically bowing as to show respect and forgiveness.

“Y/N?” The voice questioned lowing its tone. I then stood up and as my eyes met with the stranger I immediately tended up. My breath hitched and my stomach dropped into the ground. The one and one Tengen Uzui stood before me in all of his flashy glory.

“Uhh, you gonna say anything?” He joked as his eyes raked over my body.

“Um hi.” I stuttered slightly unsure of what the hell to even do. And I tended even more so when his body came crashing into mine in a bone crushing hug. I could feel his urgency and I almost allowed myself to met into his arms. But I couldn’t because I knew it wasn’t right.

“I missed you.” He mumbled into my hair. “I’m so sorry Y/N, you didn’t deserve that.” He cried.

“I know.” I said monotone still unsure what to do. Do I tell him about our son or do I keep my mouth shut and pretend like any of this is okay?

“Where have you been?” He questioned breaking the hug but still standing close. I looked up at him and sighed.

“Here and there, but mostly I’ve been living with my sister.” I said honestly. I really couldn’t lie to this man he’s really good at sporting liars. As much as I hated him, I really didn’t feel like lying to him.

“Ahh so that’s where you’ve been. I though your sister moved away from here.” He said curiously.

“She was going to, but she decided to stay.” I responded trying not to show too much emotion.

“Guess I should’ve looked there.” He joked

“You looked for me?” I questioned as I raised an eyebrow.

“Of course I did you’re my wife and I love you.” He scoffed as though he was offended.

“I just thought you wouldn’t care.” I mumbled

“Of course I care.” Tengen sighed

“Well you sure as hell didn’t act like it then.” I snapped

“You’re right, I didn’t I was too hard on you. You made a simple mistake. Hell I’ve made mistakes too. Making mistakes in this line of work is never good, but no one died. I should’ve been easier on you and I’m sorry.” He spoke. His eyes were pleading with mine saying silent apologies.

“Thank you for apologizing, but I can’t forgive you right now. You make me feel like I was nothing and I’m not just going to forgive that easily. I know one day I will, but I just can’t now.” I whispered as tears threatened my eyes.

“That’s understandable, I just hope one day that we can be together again. I miss you and honestly you’re the best aspect of life.” He said with a longing gaze.

“I’m not sure about that. That might take a long time. I don’t exactly trust you.” I spoke honestly.

“Fair enough.” He sighed. I reluctantly decided that I should just rip the bandaid off. Kei was his son and as much as I hated to admit it, Tengen was honest about his apologies. That man doesn’t half ass anything. So I thought this might be the time.

“Look Tengen I-“Just as I was about to tell him the screeching voice of my child filled my ears and I knew I was fucked.

“Mama!” Kei screeched as he ran straight towards me crushing me into a hug. He nuzzled his head into my thigh and despite how nervous I was I smiled at how cute my baby was.

“We have a child.” I finished with an awkward smile. Tengen stood there stiff and unmoving which was strange for him. I had never seen him tense up like this ever and I began to regret not going home sooner.

“Mama who’s this and why is he so tall.” Kei questioned waking up to Tengen. “Hey, you okay?” He said as he poked Tengens hand.

“Ummm.” Tengen said still shocked at the fact that Kei, his son, was standing right there. Matching pink eyes and all.

“Ummm?” Kei questioned craning his head to the side. “That’s a weird name.” Kei said in disgust.

“Baby this is Tengen Uzui and he’s a hashira. And he’s also your father.” I said trying to stay as calm and collected as possible.

“You’re my dad.?” Kei asked Tengen with cute excited smile on his cubby face.

“Yeah, I guess I am kid.” Tengen whispered crouching down and pulling Kei towards him in a loving him. “I’m your dad.” Tengen cried.

I began to shed a few tears at how cute this meeting was. I felt slightly bad that I didn’t tell Tengen about our son, but I had good reasons not to. I’m just so glad that he seems to be a better and nicer man. My thoughts then came to a haunt as I noticed my sister wasn’t here nor was was neighbor that Kei likes to hang out with. Meaning he came here alone.

“Kei honey, did you walk here alone.” I questioned with my hands on my hips.

“Umm no.” He quickly said.

“Kei answer your mother honestly.” Tengen said sternly but not too much as to scare the child.

“Yeah okay I came here by myself. But I really missed you!” Kei cried quickly to defend himself

“I missed you too, but you need to wait until I get home.” I sighed looking at how adorable my son looked with a pout.

“Okay.” He said reluctantly. Smiling at my son hugging his father brought peace to me. And I then decided to do something that would bring us all together.

“Tengen, would you like to join us for dinner?” I questioned still looking at the cute scene before me.

“Absolutely I would!” He exclaimed standing up and picking up our son, swinging him in the air.

“Yay!” Kei screeched

Making eye contact with Tengen I have him a small smile. His eyes looked relaxed and happy and I’m glad that he found out about or son. He then came up to me smiling as well.

“Y/N thank you for allowing me to be with him. I will do by best to be the father he deserves and hopefully one day the man you deserve if that’s what you’d like.” He spoke

“Thank you, I’m sure you will. And for that second bit only time can tell.” I joked

“Sounds good to me. Alright shall we go?” Tengen suggested

“Yeah, I wanna show you my room!” Kei said

“I bet it’s the flashiest room ever.” Tengen said matching Kei’s energy.

“It sure is!” I exclaimed content about the situation that I was in. But I wondered something.

“Hey why are you here early?” I asked Tengen

“The master told me to come early.” He spoke

“Why?” I asked

“No idea, but something tells me this was the reason.” He spoke softly

“Maybe.” I responded shaking my head at the thought that the master was trying to play match maker again.

We walked to the house as Kei held Tengens hand as well as he could. While the adults caught up on the years and for the first time in a long time I felt happy to be near Tengen.

Thank you so much for reading💜 Thank you to whoever requested this! Sorry it took longer than expected.

Please fell free to comment, repost, and request.

Click here to see what I’ll write for and HERE for my master list.

•I do NOT own any characters except y/n and any original characters•

-L.W.L

[thegreenthepeacetheorange]

Everlark (Catching Fire, Ch. 24-25)

katniss being angry that peeta hasn't come to help her before she realises he literally can't

peeta putting his hand up against the wall and her putting hers up to meet him. these two are so angsty romance-coded

"i just stare at his face, doing my best to hang onto my sanity"

peeta holding and rocking katniss on his lap, lifting her chin so she looks at him. husband. he loves her so much.

(as an aside, johanna and finnick basically being katniss's and peeta's older siblings is so adorable. what a cute fun brokem damaged little family)

when katniss finds out that finnick loves a "poor, mad girl back home", i can't not think of the parallels being set up between annie/finnick and peeta/katniss in the next book

ah the beach scene

"everything. that's what peeta wants me to take from him"

"i realize only one person will be damaged beyond repair if peeta dies. me"

"i do. i need you"

i'm dead at this point. how can people say katniss didn't love peeta. i got the evidence right here!

So before he can talk, I stop his lips with a kiss. I feel that thing again. The thing I only felt once before. In the cave last year, when I was trying to get Haymitch to send us food. I kissed Peeta about a thousand times during those Games and after. But there was only one kiss that made me feel something stir deep inside. Only one that made me want more. But my head wound started bleeding and he made me lie down. This time, there is nothing but us to interrupt us. And after a few attempts, Peeta gives up on talking. The sensation inside me grows warmer and spreads out from my chest, down through my body, out along my arms and legs, to the tips of my being. Instead of satisfying me, the kisses have the opposite effect, of making my need greater. I thought I was something of an expert on hunger, but this is an entirely new kind. 

the idea of peeta trying to talk despite katniss kissing him and then just giving up is too much

the warmth that grows inside of her exclusively due to peeta

the line about a new kind of hunger. bars

she's so down bad for him, and i think she truly realises here, even if she doesn't let herself think about it too much.

finnick waking up and realising the way they're wrapped around eachother and being like... "um get a room? if you want?" is hilarious too

i truly wonder how far they would've gone if they hadn't been interrupted by the lightning bolt. judging by katniss saying there's nothing to stop them this time but them, i think she might've not stopped at all. and the wrapping around each other. i know they were about to cut away in the capitol feeds.

peeta again being husband and making katniss lie down and leading her to bed. "i let him lead me over to where the others are." the "i let him." this books is just a masterpiece in showing the change in their dynamics.

lol at katniss being like "fuck no" at the suggestion of having kids with gale. "for one thing, that's never been part of my plan." like how much clearer has she got to make it. contrasting this to when peeta dropped the baby bomb and she was like: it could be true by now if it wasn't for the games, right? she's so shameless

i honestly feel like crying every time katniss says she thinks of peeta's child safe in the meadows. the fact that it's just peeta's child makes me think that the unnamed, unidentified unspoken of mother, is her. like that's who she's picturing in this fantasy, in this dream.

"when i wake, i have a brief delicious feeling of happiness that is somehow connected with peeta" and she clings to it as long as she can

just something so beautiful that all this talk of love and family and peace and the future is linked with peeta and thus her own happiness. like my heart aches for her.

she can't look at peeta the next morning after their kissing the night before. i think a big part of it was because she just allowed herself to think all these thoughts involving peeta and then came back down to earth very quickly and realised that this wasn't possible for her because of the QQ

the pearl, their inside joke because of effie! the fact they remembered, the fact that they laugh together like this even with everything going on

katniss determining that peeta is her biggest enemy because their desires are the complete opposite when it comes to survival. "i promise myself i will defeat his plan." and even despite them both realising they're at odds, despite peeta not being able to look at her after, they sit together hand in hand.

the pearl and everything it comes to symbolise with these two kills me.

[82mitsu]

Previously translated pair names that had been posted to Twitter. However corrections had to be made (misinterpretations & an instance of mistranslation), so this is version 2.

Note: This is the only translated thing I will be posting, I am not off hiatus. I had been meaning to archive this before my hiatus, but I also had to fix some things, which is why there was a delay.

Please consult to this post only regarding pair name translations done by me (82mitsu), any other posts or reposts you might see of this chart is the older version. (Previous version has been deleted, but I'm unaware how far the information had spread.)

If any other corrections need to be made, feel free to contact me and I'll make them as soon as possible.

Below follows an extreme lengthy TL note breaking down some pair names, it's a lot of text, so be warned once you unfold the read more.

A lot of research went into these due to 18TRIPs tendency to mix up words, use Gen-Z slang that hasn’t been picked up by everyone yet (or limited to TikTok) and make up their own words (“Omotenashisto” -> “Hospitalister”). I used dictionaries, searched forum results, looked up how people use these words on social media, went TikTok digging, etc.

I tried my best to localize in a way that should make sense even without added context. I only explained the ones that I thought might needed some more back-up in a cultural sense or because it was a specific JPN thing. Thus, not everything has been explained. However, I hope things are clearer compared to the first version that was posted. For Renga & Yukikaze: For ぽゆぽゆ (poyupoyu) there is no definition or anything for this word, but from context clues and digging through how people used it, I deduced that it means something soft and squishy like a plushie or cheeks, so to say. For Renga & Liguang: かりそめの宿縁 (karisome no shukuen) is a Japanese saying about a fated connection of bond that only lasts for a brief moment, but leaves a deep impact on your life. For Renga & Raito: Party is mispelled in the katakana as “paachii” and not the usual “paatii”. Renga has a tendecy to say English words wrong. While “friends” is spelled the correct way, both words have been “mispelled” to drive the point home. For Renga & Kinari: なぁぜなぁぜ (naaze, naaze) is JPN Gen-Z slang from Tiktok. It’s a statement made as an act for complaining, with a bit of sarcasm and irony thrown in at times. Like, “I said I wanna diet but I ate a big meal anyway! なぁぜなぁぜ” or “I’m an idol but I get more anxious doing improv than performances! なぁぜなぁぜ”. Best way I can describe the usage in this context is Renga is throwing a bit of a self-aware tantrum as to why Kinari would correct him. (As mentioned earlier, he isn’t good at English). I guessed a close equivalent would be “nuh-uh”, since that is a dismissal of someone else’s opinion without actual good reason, even if the other person has a point. For Renga & Netaro: まんまん (manman) means “a lot” but I also believe it’s a reference to meatbuns (nikuman). For Kafka & Yodaka: Hanbei is Takenaka Shigeharu, a Japanese samurai from the Sengoku era. He was known for being Toyotomi Hideyoshi’s strategist. For Liguang & Yodaka: 闘牌伝 (touhaiden) is related to Mahjong stuff. 闘牌伝 seems to be an old timey Mahjong video game with RPG elements. Rekka is a fighting game term, and I will quote the website The Fighting Game Glossary by Infil on this: “A type of special move that has multiple stages, as long as you input more commands to continue the sequence. Not all multi-part specials can be called rekkas though; a rekka tends to have exactly three distinct parts and will move your character forward along the ground with each new input.”  For Akuta & Nanaki: They went to the same kindergarten and were grouped together in the “Oden Class”. Japanese kindergartens, from my understanding from researching, tend to have a name for their class, rather than a number. To give an idea what such names could be, in 2019 the website hyenasclubs hosted a poll of most commonly used names for classes, and the top 3 were “baby chick” (hiyoko), “peach” (momo) and “dandelion” (tanpopo). For Akuta & Muneuji: My take on はっけよい輝矢部屋 (hakkeyoi kaguya heya) is a bit of an elaborate bit joking with Princess Kaguya of the Moon (from Tale of the Bamboo Cutter) because I was wondering why they suddenly opted for Muneuji’s last name instead of first. (I might’ve also just overestimated Kaguya Heya being some joke on Kaguya Hime). Hakkeyoi is what a referee shouts at the start of a sumo wrestling match. For Akuta & Ushio: I think ポジティブに腕押し (positive ni ude oshi) is a take on 暖簾に腕押し (noren ni ude oshi) that means something has no effect or is pointless. Lit. it means “pushing a curtain with one's arm”.    For Akuta & Tao: Akuta Nine is a joke on the baseball movie Gyakkyo Nine which is an adaptation of the manga of the same series, I believe. The movie is referred to as GK9, hence I made it AKT9.  For Akuta & Ryui: The original is OYAxKOBU which comes from 親分子分 (oyabunkobun) meaning “boss and his underlings”. Akuta also calls Ryui by “Oyabun”.

For Kiroku & Nanaki: Weebs who watch highschool anime should be familiar with this, but emergency staircase refers to the hallway stairs in a JPN highschool that are sometimes used as chilling out spots by students. For Kiroku & Chihiro: TuRyStA is the clothing brand they wear. 18TRIP has a various selection of clothing brands, which each character having a preference for one or another. For Kiroku & Yodaka: Zhao Yun, as quoted by Wikipedia, “was a military general who lived during the late Eastern Han dynasty and early Three Kingdoms period of China.” For Ushio & Raito: Some heavy freedom was taken with バスボムしゅわリスト (basubamu shuwaristo). After considering how to approach it in the most sensical way, I decided to translate it as “bubblist” due the other options being “hand sign list” or “bubble list”. I thought リスト might function as in -ist, like dentist, artist, guitarist. しゅわ comes from しゅわしゅわ which means bubbly. Although bubblist isn’t not that common, it is sometimes referred to entertainers that do bubble performances (in English). And I think it made more sense than “hand sign list” or “bubble list” to say the least. This was also taking in consideration how 18TRIP, as explained in the intro, gets very creative with its language usage. For Raito & Nagi: Mandarin ducks symbolize “soulmates” of some kind in China. In other words, Mandarin Duck Touring is more along the lines of “Motorcycle touring soulmates”. However, I find the mandarin duck reference and interesting pull compared to just “soulmates”, so it was kept as is. For Kinari & Ryui: “Super Darling Gap Inspection” is more along the original lines. “Gap” in Japanese is usually used in the context of when someone acts one way, but unexpectedly, can act a different way. Ex. A very shy person shows they can be super vulgar, that can be considered a “gap” of some kind. In English, people are more familiar with “gap moe”, thus gap moe was used. For Tao & Nagi: Might be a reference to Yokohama’s Zo-no-hana (Elephant Nose) Park. For Toi & Yodaka: The original is more along the lines of, in the most literal sense, “going around raisins circle (of friends).” Toi likes raisins, but Yodaka doesn’t, so Yodaka passes them onto Toi. I’ve turned into on a play on “sharing is caring” since that’s a common concept in English.

[making-the-crypt-rock]

Lena, the Werewolf

Monster x human reader (wlw)

Mostly safe for work(nudity, depictions of a strap on), but trigger warning for domestic abuse.

Escaping a bad situation leads you to the small town of Denizen, where the people are hiding more secrets than just a beautiful state park. It's here that you meet Lena, the best bartender you've ever met.

(I'd also like to shout out @momolady , as this piece was inspired by characters in her Hearthway Hollow section)

"Finally away. Finally, I've gotten away." That's all I can think, as I speed down the road. As I wipe the last of the tears from my eyes, I try to control my breathing. Fortunately, I haven't passed any hidden police cars. The way I was driving, I would have been pulled over, for sure. Then again, maybe cops who didn't know my ex would take me seriously.

With clearer eyes, I catch sight of a speed limit sign. I slow down to match the thirty mile per hour limit. I figure that I must be getting close to a town. I'm not even sure where I am, right now. I just ran out of my apartment, got in my truck, and sped off. I didn't even have time to grab clothes, this time. He was so mad... I couldn't stay there. I can only imagine the state that my apartment's in, now. Caleb probably tossed the place and broke all my stuff. It's probably for the best that the majority of my most prized possessions are at my parents' house. But I definitely won't have my computer or a lot of the pictures I had hanging on my walls, when I go back. I shiver at the thought of him still punching holes in my kitchen.

I'm shaken from my thoughts, when I pass a sign. It says, "Welcome to Denizen. Home of Nethermoore State Park." The green of the basic road sign stands out against the fall colors painting the woods around me, making it hard to miss. I don't think I've ever heard of this town, let alone the park. Coming around the corner and over a small bridge, I'm met with a quaint town. Right away, I can identify a coffee shop, hardware store, gas station, grocery store, and a bar, most importantly. The lights on the street have hanging baskets decorated in autumn fashion, with fake, orange leaves and little pumpkins. There's not a stop light, even on the main road. This place is so much smaller than Stillwater.

I pull my truck into a space next to The Raven bar and grill. It stands out pretty well and has a very charming look to it, as it seems it's designed to look like a log cabin. When I park, I notice an older man leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette. He looks at my truck, before looking in at me. Then, he just looks away, taking a drag. Now parked, I take the chance to look at my phone. Fifteen missed calls, fifteen voicemails, and fifty-seven unread messages, all from Caleb. However, there are also a couple texts from my mom, wondering where I am and if I'm alright. Caleb must have called her to see if I was hiding with her and Dad, again. Hiding there didn't go well, the last time, though. He almost fought my dad to get to me. I'm pretty sure he'd do far worse, this time.

I send her back, "I'm alright, Mom. He's upset, because I finally told him that we're over and that I'm going to be moving out of my apartment and away from him, as soon as I can. It's finally going to be over. I'm going to be staying the night, out of town, but I'll stop by after I go collect my things, tomorrow." I watch the text bubble for "someone is typing" dance for a moment, before her reply pops up. She tells me that she loves me and that she's proud of me for finally leaving him. She tells me to stay safe and that she'll see me, tomorrow.

I store my phone back in my pocket and hop out of the truck. I hadn't gotten the chance to eat the dinner I'd made, and now I'm getting hungry. The smoker looks me up and down and nods at me, but gets a bit of a concerned look on his face.

"You alright, Miss?" he asks.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, just getting through a bit of a rough patch. I'll be fine," I reply.

"Well, this would be the place to help with rough patches," he says, pointing his thumb over his shoulder at The Raven. "But this is also pretty good and you look like you could use it." He fishes a tissue out of the pocket of his jean jacket and hands it to me. I take it and wipe the last of the moisture from my eyes and wipe my nose up, thanking him.

"No problem, miss. I'm Elijah, by the way. I own the grocery, next door, if you need anything, while you're here." Elijah smiles, kindly. He reminds me of my dad, in a way; sturdy build with dark hair and kind eyes. He's the kind of friendly that makes you feel calm.

"Also, miss, and not to pry on your business, but what brings you to town? Camping out the rough patch in the park or you just come for the pour?" he jokes, taking another drag from his cig.

"Oh, I'm YN. YN Green, and I'm just passing though. Needed to get away, for the night, and kinda ended up here by accident," I reply.

He chuckles to himself and replies, "Well, Ms. Green, if you believe the old folktales, no one ends up in Denizen by accident. Always something to find. Anyways, I'll let you get to finding what you need." I nod and thank him for the help. He nods back with a smile.

When I walk into the bar, a few people glance over at me. The place is warmly lit with hunting and sports decor all over the walls, ranging from old Wild jerseys and a gigantic, framed picture of the old Metrodome to mounted deer and fish. There are a couple TVs, too. All are silent, except for the one displaying a channel for the music playing over the speakers. Many of the tables are full, but I find a small one tucked in the back. The black chair I sit in has a little duct taped patch on it. The sound of bar chatter and 90s country is almost foreign.

Then, an older woman in a black t-shirt with the bar's logo walks over with a laminated menu. "Welcome to The Raven. Can I get you started with anything to drink?"

"Just a water, please," I say with a smile. She studies my face for a moment as she hands me the menu.

"Alright, I'll bring that right over," she says in a cheery tone. I look down at the menu. Burgers and sandwiches line both sides of the menu, with sections for appetizers and daily specials. Today, it's fish fry, like many Midwestern places do on Fridays.

Looking up from the menu, I take another look around. This place is different from my usual hang outs, but not in an uncomfortable way. Certainly, just... different. My eyes stop at the bar, where I notice one of the bartenders is looking at me. She glances down as she hands a customer a beer, but her eyes come back to me. Her short, brown hair is pulled back into a paintbrush of a ponytail, showing off her undercut. Her face is soft, but with a strong jawline. She looks athletic and like she enjoys her time at the gym. I'd bet she could open any jar of pickles she set her mind to.

The waitress comes back over and sets my water down. "Know what you're having, tonight?" I look from her to the menu and order the fish - three pieces with waffle fries, and I ask her to hold the side of coleslaw. She scribbles it all down and nods, taking my menu. "Thank you much. That'll be out in a bit." I nod and try looking back at the bar, but the woman is gone, pry helping someone at a different corner of the bar or checking in with the kitchen. Elijah walks in and takes a seat at the bar, giving me a wave when he sees me.

I pull my buzzing phone back out. Caleb's latest text says, "Where the fuck are you? You need to come back here and take back what you said. We're not over and you better be prepared to apologize, you fucking bitch." My eyes start to water, so I just swipe the notifications away. I open my phone and message my landlord about the situation. A friend of my dad, Mark has been working with me to document everything that's happened and get me out. He wishes he could just move me to his other property, but it's all occupied. With Caleb and I both on the lease, though, he's making sure that all charges for damages and fees for breaking the lease are going to him. He thanks me for the info and says he's going to go over and give him his thirty day notice. I thank him and set my phone down, again.

The waitress comes back over, but not with food. She hands me a glass with what looks like a kiddie cocktail in it.

"I didn't order a drink," I tell her. She lets out a little chuckle.

"No, but someone sent it over. Lena makes a mean Malibu Shirley." I glance over at the bar where the bartender, Lena, is looking at me, again, while she stands by Elijah, who's giving me a toothy grin and doing a goofy, finger twiddle wave. I smile at him, mouth a 'thank you', and thank the waitress. She smiles and walks off, again, towards a table of older folks having a rather jovial night. I take a sip of my drink. Sweet and fruity, not too strong. It would be great blended, on a hot summer day.

As the night winds on, I eat my dinner and stare at my phone, trying to find a local hotel. There's a motel at the edge of the state park, but it says that it doesn't have vacancy. The next closest one is forty-five minutes back the way I came. Far too close. I sigh, wishing I hadn't taken my camping gear out of my truck bed. I send messages to Mark and my parents, getting and giving updates about what's all been happening. Apparently, Mark took the police chief with him, to deliver the papers, and Caleb was detained, after they discovered all the damage. I still don't feel safe enough to go home.

Elijah came and went, telling me to have a good night. I order a few more Shirleys, as the night goes on. The waitress, LouAnne, gives me a polite smile, every time she stops at the table. I think I only heard her raise her voice, once, and it was to tell this old drunk he had to go home. Lena kept looking over at me, but I haven't seen her for a bit. I get lost in my search for a place to stay the night and the warm comfort of coconut rum.

Suddenly, the chair on the opposite side of the table slides out and the bartender takes a seat. "I'd ask if this seat was taken, but I don't think I've seen anyone use it, since you came in. Plus, it's getting close to closing time and I doubt anyones gonna come in just to snatch it," she jokes. "I'm Lena." She's even prettier, up close. I notice the little freckles on her cheeks and the crescent moons on her ear piercings.

"Yeah, the waitress told me your name. You're the bartender that likes to stare," I joke back. Her cheeks turn pink, but she laughs along, shoulders shanking. Her eyes are soft. They're green, like walking through a spring forest. "I'm YN." We shake hands and I can feel just how strong they really are.

"Yeah, ol' Eli told me about you. Said you blew in out of nowhere. He also said you might need a place for the night, and considering you've had a few more of my Shirleys than just the one I sent over, I'm gonna guess a ride somewhere, too." I feel my mouth fall open, ever so slightly. She sent it? Probably just trying to be nice, I suppose.

"You sent it? I thought Elijah did, cuz he saw me when I got here, so I thought he was just trying to help me feel better," I tell her. Her face gets a bit more serious.

"Yeah, I did. Elijah mentioned that you looked a little worse for wear, when you pulled up. Everything ok?" she asks, leaning in and resting her forearms on the table. I feel tears fighting to come out, but I hold myself together. Between the stress and liquor, it's a real battle. The crack in my voice, however is a different story.

Telling her, "I'm fine, just some stuff with my b... My ex." I have to correct myself. He's not my boyfriend, anymore. There's a slight shift in Lena's expression, but it passes quickly. "He's just being a jerk cuz I told him to get lost. But then I got lost and ended up here. Funny how that works." I know I'm rambling, but the words are hard to stop. Her face softens as her eyes scan me. She looks so amused.

"You're a little drunk, aren't you?" Not a question.

"Yes, ma'am. And youuuu started it." I point a finger gun at her and giggle. "You make a good drink." Lena smiles and lets out a soft chuckle.

"I'm flattered," she says, mockingly, placing her finger tips against her chest. Then her tone turns to the edge of flirtatiousness. "It's not every day I get such praise from such a pretty girl." I'm praying that the flush from the alcohol hides my blush.

"I, um... Thanks," I squeak out, causing her to throw her head back with laughter.

"God, that was adorable," she wheezes, trying to compose herself. Pretty, now adorable? I'm not even sure what to truly say, in response. "Ok, ok. Real talk. Eli said you were pry in need of a place to stay the night. Not to be presuming anything, but I've got a spot at my place. I have my basement listed as an Air BnB, and it's open, at the moment. Since it's just the night and short notice, you can just crash down there, if you need. If you found a spot, that's cool, too, but I just want to make sure you get where you're headed, safely." She sounds genuine about the offer. I didn't find a place and I didn't even think to check that site, with it being such late notice.

"Uh... Yeah, that would work for me, if it's not too much trouble. I promise I'll pay you back." Lena puts up a hand and shakes her head

"No need. I'm offering. Now, I get done in thirty, so just hang here, while I finish cleaning up and clocking out," she says. And that's what I do. I sit with my, now, almost dead phone and watch her work. She wipes down the bar and washes her mats, before mopping and taking out the trash. She lifts the large bag like it's nothing and I have to push a thought out of my mind, when I realize that I rocked my hips on the chair. She looks back at me, for a moment, before leaving the room, a strange look in her eyes.

When she and the cook lock up, I head to my truck for my charger and travel toothbrush. I expect her to head for a car, but she just starts walking. I try asking her about it, but she says she lives only a bit down the road and that she just walks.

"Do you want to just drive my truck?" I ask. I'd feel better not leaving it here, if I don't have to." She agrees and we hop in. Lena adjusts the seat back and tilts the mirrors. She rolls the windows down, too, letting the chilly, fresh smelling air in. Then, in no time at all, we pull into the long driveway of a gorgeous two story house. She parks my truck and we hop out.

"Hey there, Toasty," Lena babbles after pushing the door open. She looks back at me with an uncomfortable face. "You don't mind dogs, right?" Then, before I register it, we're both surprised by a very happy Staffordshire terrier bouncing out of the door and jumping up to sniff and lick at my face and hands, letting out a few barks. I laugh at the excitable dog and scratch his ears.

"I love dogs!" I laugh, as the dog sits for pets. "Is this good boy yours?"

"Yeah, he's my buddy." Lena leans down and pats his side. Then, he runs into the yard to do his business, before coming back to us. "Alright, in." He follows her command, trotting back through the door and we both follow.

Lena's home is beautiful. She has many different potted plants in her windows, a spacious living room, and a kitchen that would make my mom jealous. She gives me a small tour, only pointing upstairs to tell me she sleeps up there, before taking me to the basement. It's finished and she's set up a second entertainment area with a TV and an Xbox 360. I even spot some old guitar controllers, in the corner. There's a full bathroom and a bedroom, in the far corner with a nice bed already made up.

"I know you said it's alright, but I'm definitely paying you back for this. This is really too kind." Lena just shakes her head.

"Not happening," she replies, crossing her arms.

"You can't stop me from trying," I say, crossing my own arms and smirking. Her brow creases as she lets out a light snort. Lena takes a couple steps towards me and I feel the wall on my back. I stare into her eyes and am surprised that I don't feel the same way Caleb made me feel, when he would corner me. This time, I can feel my heart racing in places besides my chest. I see Lena's eyes dilate, as if she can tell that that's what she was doing to me, too.

She places her right hand above me and says in a low tone, "I can't stop you, YN, but I can certainly do my best to make you too flustered to keep trying." I can smell her sweet and musky perfume. Her eyes have the same amused look that they had, at the bar. She's playing with me, like I'm a toy. I've never flirted with another girl, like this. Sure, I kissed a few friends, in college, but I never really took the chance to pursue anything further. It was all just in good fun, but this? This is different. And so much more exciting.

"And just how would you do that?" I look at her chest as I trail a finger along her collar, before looking back up at her. I see her breath hitch as she takes in my response. Then, she gets more serious, an almost worried look in her eyes.

"You really want to do this? I need you to know that I didn't bring you here for anything funny and that, if you're just playing, I understand. I'm not the kind of person to just bring anyone home, especially not drunk girls. I'm... not the type for one night stands," she says, searching my eyes. Wouldn't this just be one night, though? I mean, I don't think I want it to be, but isn't that how it has to go? I just left Caleb. I can't just start in with a new partner, the same night. Then again, I haven't so much as kissed him, in over three months, and with everything he's done, I think I'm ready for someone who wants me.

I look Lena in the eyes, then down to her lips. They're thin and I can tell that she bites them, but they draw my attention in a supernatural way. I want to see more of her. I want her. Looking back up and meeting her eyes, I can almost see sweat forming on her brow, in anticipation of my answer.

I place my hands on either side of her face and let out a steady breath. "My brain has been so fried, this evening, Lena, but if there's anything that I know for certain, it's that I don't think I'd ever forgive myself if I didn't take this chance. I want this and I want you." Her eyes light up and I don't think she really knows what else to do, besides stare at me and bring a hand to my cheek. Her mouth is trying to form words, but nothing comes out. I let out a small chuckle, before leaning in just a little, glancing down at her lips, again. This time, she takes the initiative and kisses me, hungrily. My hands find each other, interlocking my fingers behind her neck. Her right hand, remains on the wall, while her left takes hold of my waist, pulling my body to hers.

"Fuck, your lips taste good," Lena growls. She tastes like peppermint and vanilla chapstick. I can feel my body turning on for the first time in ages, as she kisses me. She rolls her hips against mine and I begin to notice a firm object being ground against me. In my head, I let out a long "fuck." Lena hard packs. She's a butch who hard packs. I moan against her lips, grinding my hips to match hers.

"You're sure about this, YN?" Lena pants in my ear, huskily.

"All bark and no bite, huh?" I goad, trying to control my breathing as I plant a soft kiss on this woman's neck. She lets out a noise somewhere between a low growl and a chuckle, before latching into the side of my neck. Her teeth press against my skin and I can't hold back from moaning, which only seems to encourage her. She hungrily licks and sucks at my neck and I have to push her away, before she leaves a mark.

"Not there, just yet," I whine. "I want it there, but no visible ones, yet." She nods, a hungry look in her eye, as she realizes that this means she will have access to the rest of my body to leave marks on. She licks her lips as she looks me over.

"Fair enough." With a quick movement of her hands, I'm lifted off of my feet. I wrap my legs around her middle as her strong hands caress my thighs. "Then let's take this to my room, huh?" She gives a toothy smirk as she begins to effortlessly carry me up the two flights of stairs.

"God, you're strong," I tell her, making her smile.

"I have a very active lifestyle. When I'm not at the bar, I'm either in the gym or on the trails. And I work at the trail head, for the nature center. They have me split firewood, for the campers at the state park." I get a mental image of Lena all sweaty, wearing a wife pleaser and jeans, with an ax over her shoulder. She hums out a teasing tone, when she feels my muscles clench at the thought. One hand slides further up my ass and gives me a little squeeze, as we get to the second set of stairs. "I felt that, cutie."

I mutter into her neck, "Well, I could feel your strap, when you were grinding on me, so I guess we're even."

"You can do a lot more than feel it through my pants, if you want," she growls in my ear. When we get to the top of the stairs, I feel a wet nose touch my ankle. Toasty is looking at us, happy for company. Lena sets me down and gives his head a pat. "Sorry, buddy. You're going to have to sleep in the living room, tonight." He cocks his head, but trots down the stairs, when Lena tells him to go on.

Lena's room is spacious with a couple of dressers, thier tops covered in little knick knacks, a large book case with books ranging from older hardcovers to more contemporary, and a comfy looking king-sized bed with a maroon comforter on it and a large walnut chest at the foot of it. I excuse myself to her bathroom, for a second. I set my phone on the counter to charge and pull my toothbrush from my pocket. I give myself a quick cleaning and check my neck for a mark. Besides being a little red, I'm ok.

When I come out, Lena is sitting on the bed, looking deep in thought. She gives me a soft smile, when she notices I'm looking at her. I ask her what's wrong and she just gives a little shake of her head.

"I'm trying to figure out the right words, right now..." answers Lena. I give her a confused look and she sighs. "Well, there's... some stuff you need to know, if you're serious about this whole thing. And it's... It's going to be really hard to believe and make me sound insane." She looks almost terrified. I sit next to her and she keeps just looking at the carpet. "I hardly know you, YN... But I really feel a connection that I can't shake."

"I was feeling something similar..." I say. "Back at the bar? I just couldn't stop looking at you. Something in the back of my brain kind of just said 'that is the prettiest, most fascinating person you've ever seen, so you better not stop staring.'" She finally looks at me with a soft smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes..

"I'm... not quite a normal person." I raise an eyebrow at this as she searches for more words. "Well, you how I'm a dog person? Like, how I have Toasty?" I nod. "Well, I'm also a dog-person. With the hyphen, in the middle."

"So... You're a furry? Or is this like a pet-play thing?" I ask, thinking she's just worried about exposing a fetish.

Lena says, voice wavering in a way I would have predicted, "I'm... not entirely... human? I'm... I'm a werewolf." A goddamn werewolf? I turn and just stare at the floor, the same way she had been.

I sigh. "If you didn't really want to have sex with me, you could have just said." She looks shocked.

"I'm being serious!" exclaims Lena. "Want me to show you?" I look back at her and tell her very matter of factly that, yes, if she ever expects me to believe her that she's a werewolf, then I'm going to need proof. Holding eye contact with me, she offered her hands. I watch as they shift from the slightly muscular hands of the butch bartender to a set of furry claws. I jump back, almost falling off the bed. I don't even know what to say.

Lena stares at her hands and replies, "It's a genetic thing, so don't be worried about catching it. This town was made for our kind, a few decades ago. That's why people ask strangers if they're going to the park. It's a total safe zone for us to shift or be in our less-than-human forms. ...I'm sorry, I should have told you, sooner." She can't even look at me. She looks so ashamed. I'm trying to process it all, but nothing is computing, properly.

Slowly, I manage to ask, "Can... Can you always control it, like that, or... you know... Like, does the full moon make you wolf out?"

"I'm in total control, but the pack does get together, during the full moon, for a meeting and other activities. Mostly a midnight run or hunt," Lena explains. I look back down at her hands. They're still the paw-like, furry hands. "February can be a bit hectic, though." She laughs a little at this, but whatever it is goes over my head. Taking everything in, today, must have taken its toll, as this all starts to feel less and less insane. I place my hand on her shoulder and she stiffens.

"I've had... a very rough day, Lena. And I don't know if it's the drinks, the fact I've been so emotionally drained, or the fact that I thought you were a person I was genuinely 100% glad I met, a few minutes ago, but I don't think I care about... any of that," I say, tiredly, gesturing at her claws. She looks up at me, eyes wet with tears she's holding back, like water in a dam.

"You... you really don't mind that I'm..." Her lip quivers and I almost can't help but think it's cute. I give her a soft smile.

"Strangely enough, no." I sigh and replace my hand with my head, resting it on her muscular shoulder. "I just wish you'd saved it for a bit." I can feel her turn her head, a bit. "Not meaning that this was one, but telling a girl you're a werewolf is kind of a second date type thing." Lena bursts out with her hardy laugh, again, wheezing and letting her tears fall. I scoot closer to her and wrap an arm around her waist.

"So... I'll take it you want to keep seeing me?" Lena asks, sniffling and wiping away tears from her eyes and face with her paws.

"Yeah... I want to get to know Lena. But you need to do a couple things, first." She nods, smiling that beautiful smile. "1.) I could use some pajamas, 2.) I want to see your whole body do that, cuz that is so weird and I don't think I'll be able to sleep without seeing how that works, and 3.) you're big spoon." She laughs and leans into me.

She jokes, "Alright, but if you ask me to play fetch, you're sleeping downstairs." I pick my head up and look into her pretty, green eyes. I give her a quick kiss on the cheek and tell her it's a deal. Then, she kisses my forehead and gets up to find me some night time clothes. She hands me a white tank top and a pair of thin, black, cotton pants. As I'm about to excuse myself back to the bathroom, she turns away and pulls her shirt off. She does the same for her sports bar. I can see just how cut she is, now. My eyes linger on her toned back as I set the clothes on her bed. I, similarly, turn away from her, disrobing and watch her out of the corner of my eye, the same way you suspect she is.

As I pull her tank top over my head, I hear the zipper of her jeans come down. I watch with anticipation as Lena slides them over her hips, exposing her red boxers and the straps of the mount she's wearing underneath it. She tosses the jeans onto a chair that seems to house a few articles of "I'll wear those again" clothes as I finish pulling on the pair of pants. She digs in her dresser and pulls out a gray t-shirt and blue, flannel shorts. She casually brings them over to her bed and sets them down, all the while she's smirking, I know she saw my ogling her chest.

"You can look, YN. Wolves are pretty open about their bodies. Can't quite shift well in your clothes and expect them to be in decent shape, after." My eyes are scanning her body and I can practically feel my brain kicking me for not just telling her to shut up and fuck me, after I got out of the bathroom. Her tits are great and the outline of her strap is just... Ugh... "Also... I can smell every time you've been turned on, tonight. Glad I waited for you to be looking, when I did the trash." She winks as my face flushes bright red.

Then, moment of truth, she slides her boxers off. Her mounted dildo springs up from her thigh - dark blue and purple, large, and in a very uncommon shape. Of course the werewolf lesbian has a Bad Dragon. I make a mental note to look for the model, in the morning. Unfortunately, I don't get to enjoy it, before she slides the toy from her hips and puts it in the chest with what looks like more of her gear. Now I can see her well groomed bush. And she's about to get more hairy.

Lena looks at me, nervously, as she steps back to the center of her room, stark naked and asks, "You're ready for this?" I nod, sitting sideways on her bed. I take a deep breath as I watch her. She groans as her body shifts and elongates, growing hairier and more monstrous. I feel my body start to shake with fear, but I don't look away. Her kind eyes change to add tones of rich amber to the forest green. Her chestnut hair covers her body, changing to gray in many places. She's so much taller than me, now. And she has a tail! She looks straight out of a movie. Twilight, eat your heart out.

As I try to speak, Lena rasps out, "There's more." Then, she begins to shrink onto all fours, hands becoming paws, broad chest slimming, and cut muscles becoming less and less defined as a wolf, unrecognizable from any other, now stands in Lena's bedroom. She pads over to me and looks up with the saddest puppy eyes I ever saw, laying her head in my lap. She can definitely feel me still shaking, because she lets out a sad whine. I don't suppose she can talk, like this.

Carefully, I set my hand on her head and her tail starts to wag, ever so slightly. I pet her coarse, yet still fluffy, fur. She's like the husky my friend had, when we were kids. She lets out another whine, looking at me expectantly, but I just stare back. I think to scratch behind her ears and she seems to enjoy it, but shakes her head and takes a step back. I watch as she shifts back, groaning and growing more and more nude, until she's just plain, naked Lena.

"I forget that you can't understand me, like that." Lena walks back around the bed and hikes her boxers back up. She comes back around, pulling her shirt on and squats in front of me. "Are you alright? I know that seeing that is a lot, the first time." I put my hand back on her head and just play with her hair. She sighs and stands up, crawling onto the bed and pacing herself at the center. Her arms are open and she motions for me to come closer. I do, sitting between her legs as she wraps me in a warm hug. She sways and hums one of the songs that had been playing at the bar. I hardly even register it, when I start to cry. It feels like my body is just all of a sudden racked with sobs as I cry against her.

"It's alright, YN. It's going to be alright. I've got you." Three little words to make you feel at home. Two strong arms to hold you together. Lena feels like the one person in the whole world with both, and she is, right now. "I don't know what all you're going through, right now, or how much I've just added to all of the things on your mind, but I'm right here, for you, YN. I'm right here." She continues swaying and rocking me until I can't cry anymore. She wipes my teary face either thumbs and holds my cheeks in her hands, until I look at her.

"That's it. It's going to be ok. Want me to grab you some tissues? There's a box right over there." She jerks her head over to her right. I nod and she leans back, stretching out. She comes back with a small box of Kleenex and I take one, blowing my nose, loudly. She rubs my back and just sits, patiently waiting. After a few more tissues and a few more lingering hiccups of sobs, I'm left puffy-eyed and all cried out, leaning into Lena's warm hug.

"I think it's time to get some rest. We'll figure this out, in the morning, alright?" Lena softly asks. I nod against her chest. She scoots back, leading me with her hand, as I crawl behind her. "Ok. Let's just scoot back, here, and get comfortable and we can fall asleep, when you're ready. Come here." She pulls back the comforter and tosses the decorative pillows off the end of the bed. Lena, then, pulls the covers over both of our laps, as I lean into her, finding comfort in her warmth.

"Lena?" I whimper, trying to find my voice.

"Yeah?"

"This is all real, right now?"

"I'm afraid it is." I nod. "Is there anything I can do for you, YN? Anything at all that would help you though this?" She sounds so sincere, almost pleading.

"Just... Don't... Don't let me go. Okay? Promise me that."

Lena's face softens and she kisses me on the top of my head. "YN, when I said that thing about not doing one night stands, I meant it. There's nothing set in stone, but I trust my instincts and they're completely drawn to you. Wolves mate for life."

"I know this sounds weird, but haven't you had partners, before? You seem so confident and practiced." She laughs through her nose.

"I've had a few standing partners, but those relationships were for mutual physical needs. I'm twenty-seven and it's a bitch to be as horny as wolves can get, without having an outlet. Mostly women, but one was nonbinary," Lena explains, gently, rubbing my arm with her thumb.

"Men, but mostly because I was unsure. Looking at you... I don't know, it was just different." She nods along.

"It can feel like that, sometimes. And it's ok to feel unsure." Lena rests her chin in my head. "Also, and I hate to do this, but I'm going to run downstairs and let Toasty out, for just a second. I'll be right back, ok?"

I nod and reply, "Yeah, go ahead." She kisses the top of my head, before slipping out of the bed, putting on her shorts, and telling me she'll be right back, before disappearing out the door. I head to the bathroom, myself, while she's gone. Checking my phone once more, finding nothing but random notifications, before grabbing it and plugging it in next to the bed, for the night. I swipe away all of the notifications for calls and texts from Caleb, the fear of that whole situation feeling like a distant memory. I take a chance to look at his messages, all the same as they've been during previous fights. I know I have to go back to my apartment, tomorrow, to assess the damage.

When I hear Lena coming back up the stairs I shut my phone off and set it back down. She flicks the light off and climbs back into her bed to snuggle up to me.

"Can I ask one more big favor?" I ask.

"Anything."

"Can I come back, tomorrow? Stay a while?"

"Nothing would make me happier. Stay as long as you'd like. Preferably forever, but..." she jokes. I laugh and that makes her smile. "Aww, there's that cute laugh. ...Alright, now. It's been a long day and it's getting really late. We'll get you all settled, tomorrow. I already told Vix, that I'm not going to be in, tomorrow, anyways." Lena holds me close as she prepares to fall asleep. With the weight of everything, both being away from Caleb and from everything since I entered Lena's house, I fall asleep almost immediately. I barely make out Lena's, "Goodnight, YN," as I fade into the darkness of sleep, dreamless and safe.

[sex-storytime]

Her Desperate Love Letter

It is with many different and intense emotions that I write to you about what happened this past weekend. I'm not even sure where to start. I have always loved you and cared about you so much, and you should know that I always will. As you can imagine, it's love that you should never question or wonder about. What happened doesn't change that, and I want you to know that, too. It's just that what happened can't continue. Just because it doesn't continue has nothing to do with my love for you.

Since you went to college and after your graduation from college, I've watched you grow so very much into the smart and handsome young man you are today. I'm proud of how successful you've already become. And, I've liked how you've carried yourself. Strong and confident, but respectful and responsible. It's because of this appeal of your's that I had mentioned to you that you should be careful with women.

You looked at me strangely the times I mentioned this, and until this weekend, I'd always thought that it was because you weren't sure what I was talking about. Now, it's clear that you must have taken that as some kind of subtle tease. That I was commenting on your success with women or something. What I had really wanted you to think about was not hurting them. When you are handsome and successful, you are going to break some hearts, I meant. Now, I realize you must have taken this as flattery.

Surely, this last weekend was something I should take some responsibility for. It was the second time I had visited you there in the city without bringing Roy along. But really, it shouldn't have been something I needed to be careful about. I was just coming to visit you.

I want you to think about it and tell me if I gave you different signals somehow. I had no intention of doing so. Yet, you took me out to dinner like you would have a date or something, and then out dancing. With the wine, it must have turned things hazy for the both of us. You didn't make matters any easier by your compliments on my dancing. When you're older like I am, such compliments mean a lot. And yes, they especially mean alot coming from you. You already know that now, don't you?

Looking back, it's much clearer now. Dinner, drinks, dancing. You're flattering me, and me eating it up. I at least had the good sense to go on to bed when we got home. When I woke up in the middle of the night, my good sense must've left me, huh? When did you climb into bed with me? Your rubbing my shoulders helped me stay groggy and relaxed. Your hugging me to you was probably when I should've gotten up. When I didn't get up or move away, did you know I was too far along? You know I felt you there, and you were obviously aroused.

I didn't get up, and you kissed the nape of my neck. All I did was put my hand to your hair, as if it was alright. That was wrong. I should've gotten up, because it was all getting to me. Between my love for you, the drinks and good time out that night, and the fact that I hadn't been intimate in so very long, I didn't want to move, didn't want to leave.

You turned me toward you so that I was lying on my back, and I felt so vulnerable to you. I shouldn't tell you this, but I liked feeling that way. Very much. In the dark there, I said nothing as you reached under my top and cupped my breast in your hand. Your gentle squeeze and the finger rubbing my sensitive nipple sent shocks through me. Things blurred for me, as you lifted my shirt further up and put your lips to my bare skin and hard nipple.

I was beginning to move away, when you did what I didn't think you would actually do. You pulled yourself over me and got between my legs. I was disbelieving when you parted my legs further apart. I should've had on panties. My hands should've pressed more against your chest to move you from me, but I didn't even resist very well, did I?

I let my hands move to your shoulders at the same time that you lifted my legs, didn't I? Is that when you knew for sure you were going to have me or had you already known? I just wonder. You fumbled at yourself down there, and it gave me a moment to again resist, didn't it? I'm horrible for having let this happen. I remember feeling embarrassed, when I felt you lodge yourself at my lips, since then you must've felt how wet I was. All I could do was take a sharp breath.

I shouldn't tell you this. But, I think I started orgasming as soon as you got yourself fully into me. You were so hard, and it felt so thick, that rolls of pleasure swept over me. Your hips bucking at me, and my sex taking you in over and over felt so sensual and so intense that I had to cry out like I did. You going harder and faster made another orgasm start to well up inside, and I hated myself for reaching my legs higher up your back.

You were panting and pushing so intensely that I wanted you to feel the same pleasure that I had. It was just the moment, I hope you know, that made me say the things I did. I had never talked that way around you. Never had you heard me say the word "fuck." I never would have thought I'd have said for you to go ahead and fuck me. That was crazy.

Even though crazy, it must have done something for you, huh? I saw you flex and tense. Hear your grunting. You pushed as hard as you could into me, as you pulsed inside of me. Thinking back now, it's so raw and incredibly nasty that you came inside of me, that it's actually having an effect on me as I write this.

We held each other afterwards, and we felt so very close. The next morning you were so sweet and so gentle with such a weird situation. I'm glad you understood that I needed to hear how no one would ever ever know our secret. And although I didn't respond at the time, you should know that I did like what you had said that morning about how attractive I was and about how you didn't care whether it was right or not that we had done that. You couldn't see, but I smiled at how you said you would do the same thing again anytime and anywhere. That was a turn-on actually. It still is.

Unfortunately, the reality is that it will have to be that one time thing that happened. Something we will always know, and that no one else ever will. Something we can look at each other and smile about quietly. It is something that I'll remember from time to time and really savor. It just can't happen again, and I really do appreciate that you understand that.

It's good to get this to you so that you understand how I feel about what happened. I guess we can talk about it some more if you need to. I do trust you. On New Year's Eve, I will be home alone. You probably have plans, but just in case, I thought I'd mention it. It's a big house here, and it's very quiet when it's just me here, so let me know.

[ladyclwriter]

State of Grace - Paul Atreides!AU

I'm not a Dune reader, I only watched the movies. Everything here is fanfiction!

Summary: Paul succeeded at bending most of the noble houses at his upcoming command. You are the leader of a Minor House, Polaria. Spending some time with Paul before battles, you find yourself resonating with Muad'Dib, and your advice to the older boy is: don't let them take Atreides from you.

Longshot, time jumps, platonic, gender neutral reader, lots of high fantasy stuff

*In purple: creation of mine, fanfiction.

The curved walls weren't welcoming, it's dead gray like a panicking hug, differently from the colorful shapes of your planet. You could still remember the suffer of waking up inside concrete boxes, which they called chambers — at your little palace, the place where you'd settle your head to sleep was adorned on silk, feathers, and rainbow furniture. Walking through corridors busting with laughing children, maidens carrying baskets, warriors with swords, elders with it's incenses perfuming the air. Greeting many faces, and trying to remember all of them, was a daily task. You had to smile even when you didn't want to, for there was no time or room for melancholy and paranoia.

And now, you would find yourself praying to find anyone at all willing to even look at you. Irrelevance, how much of a pain it could be. And loneliness was a death sentence to a Polaritia.

After your platoon playing a definitive role at a conquering battle against one of the Major Houses, Duke Paul started to pay more attention to you. He'd discuss attack plans with you, trust your guidance and build teams at your observations.

“They have no reasons, nor power, to come against me” he said nonchalantly to Halleck. “Sometimes the weakest, the smallest ones, are the ones to trust”

You were teached to be trustworthy, but not the one who trust. The Atreides house could hold the power of the Voice now, but forgotten people like Polaritia mastered the ability of listening. You'd spend minutes hearing the Duke's casual thoughts, his worries, his plans and his craziness. From time to time, the boy would talk to himself, lost in visions and ghosts that only he could deal with. You were there, standing like a tree, pretending to not be paying attention until he remembered of your existence again.

The catch is; there was no catch. You were as important as a stone, a tool, your value based on for what the Duke would need you for. And it had to change.

“Your Highness, Muad'Dib” you get on a knee until he pats your shoulder, walking to his own bed.

“Polaris” he says in a casual tone. The title of the leader of your little nation became your name. Actually, he probably doesn't know your name. “It's late. And you don't come to me without a reason. Something bothering you?”

Not that he cared if the answer was yes. You stand straight, hands behind your back, eyes following the skinny man as he sits on his duvets. “I'd like to ask what awaits my nation, Your Highness”

He raises a dark eyebrow. His hair follows his head as it tilts slowly, blue eyes looking at some specific point inside your being. That eerie aura only he could carry.

“You should be clearer, Polaris. That sentence could have different meanings. And I can give you as many answers” yes, he could. Your eyes wander from his, as you inhale and humbly declare:

“I have no interest on your holy visions, Muad'Dib”

His eyebrow is still up as he smile, and nod. For a moment, he's silent, looking at nowhere, caressing his own hands. He nods once more, not talking or daydreaming, but coming to a conclusion. Your heart was beating at your ears, a pressure on your chest as the worst answers come to your mind.

“Your people is amazing at arts, we could make use of some cultural schools. And no one compares to your acrobatics” he's not looking at you while he speaks, making sure his thoughts are being well articulated. “I don't need more worshippers. But I don't need more nobles too”

When his eyes meet yours again, there's a silent question in the air. You were following his logic, and you knew the right answer to give even before he could ask. He knew that too.

He leans back at the bedpost, hands crossed on top of his spread legs. “Can Polaria promise neutrality and loyalty?”

The answer was a definite yes. There was no room for a no. Yet, you keep seconds of silence. Your lips part, and your eyebrows lift slightly. But your face gets back to a plain, obedient expression.

“My people has a deep passion for the colors, for the life” it wasn't an explanation. “With your protection and affection, we would be guardians. Your art, your culture, our enemie's. Not vowed to the House of Atreides, but servants of joy and knowledge. A safe place for the ones interested on nurturing something more than power”

He stay quiet. His eyes go to nothing again. His thumb clashes against the back of the white hand it holds, feet swaying carelessly. It lasts a minute or two, until he looks at you with the most serious face he could do in his sleepwear.

“Isn't passion the biggest of the fuels, Polaris? Wouldn't your House behold a power too high for it's hands to reach?”

You couldn't contain the sparkle in your eyes. That specific feeling at the roof of your mouth, something warm inside your stomach. The smile wasn't at your face, and your voice was cold, but he could see through the etiquette. His own pupils dilated with interest, challenge.

“We are inside a flying machine, Muad'Dib” your hands tighten at your back, and you don't know if you're breathing when he smiles right after you say: “The sky was never a limit”

Ever since that day, for the first time, the people of Polaria had a purpose. The citizen captured the message, and in no time the planet was well organized to be some sort of academic safe haven. The well trained warriors were with you, battling for the Imperium. Your acrobats, illusionists, and alchemists something to be reckon when joined with the Fremen. Your mind was always aligned with Paul's, and even if no one would dare to consider you such, you became an arm of his operation. But, as nothing can be perfect, the Duke of Arrakis would also keep you at an arm's length. You couldn't read the reason, not when he looked so distant and nonchalant every time you two were alone.

Being alone with him was as entertaining as terrifying. He was easy to memorize, easy to decode, if you pay enough attention to the details. The way he would smile at things without importance, or the way he couldn't hide the turmoil inside his mind when destiny obligate him to go against him instincts. Changing weight from a feet to another when about to snap at someone, or his jawline straightening when in the smallest amount of fear.

“You seemed so sure about this. The marriage, I mean” the commentary comes out in a quiet tone, as you don't look at him in respect. “What changed?”

Can I help you in any way? was the question. He kept staring at himself on a mirror, the royal silver outfit contrasting to his disheveled hair. He asked the maidens to leave before they could finish his look. The boy needed silence, and it was understandable.

When he doesn't answer, you look at the floor. “Is it the Fremen woman?” his fingers twitch beside his body. That was enough.

There was nothing you could do about his lost love. Nothing you could do about any of his feelings, at all. So, you stay there, quietly waiting for him to speak up. When he does, the distress wouldn't be detectable. Except for the fact you knew him enough to do so.

“Do you think these clothes look good on me, Polaris?” you don't answer, but your eyes go back to his reflection. He's quiet, and you only know you were supposed to say something when his eyes meet yours.

You swallow words. Compliments and critiques. He reads it. An eyebrow is lift, a silent inquisition.

“I do, Muad'Dib” you say with an uncommon hesitation. You knew he needed more than that. “Personally, I dislike it. The attire, I mean. It... It is the Imperium style, their colors. And... That doesn't feel like you, Your Highness”

He ponders. That was clearly an unexpected answer, but he didn't seem to disagree. “I bet you don't know the colors I used to wear”, his tone was cold. “Black. Dark like tar. In simple attires, thought to represent both royalty and strength.”

Considering the armory, and how he could pull it off, you could picture he looked equally good at those. But you stay quiet, letting him think. “This feels wrong. It's too light, makes me vulnerable to any threat. It's shiny, attracts attention. It's trouble” he was mostly talking to himself. “I'd be dead in minutes wearing this at Arrakis.”

His voice drifts away. He tense up, jaw clenching. Fear. Fear of losing his past. Himself. The woman he truly loves and the people who put him where he is. And his eyes water. Sorrow, grief for what was no longer on his life.

“Duke?” you call out. He hears, but doesn't react. Your chest inflated when you inhale deeply, closing your eyes while doing your best to maintain education. But you decide to flip the coin.

Your steps are purposely noisy when your boots reach the floor. You stop at his front, but not directly, not blocking the mirror. Your gloved hands find his collar, fixing an asymmetric button.

Your skin burns when his eyes are on it, and the air inside your lungs suddenly feels too warm. But you play nonchalant, hands slow, delicate, careful not to break into his walls. “If the worms of Arrakis could see, they'd call you dramatic. That's how I would describe the high houses's style.”

He raises an eyebrow, like he always do when curious or barely listening to you. “In my planet, we dress however we wish to. I, a leader, could wear either a white dress for battle, or a pink armor for a dance. Our streets are almost blinding with colors. It's insane, really.”

Your fingers trace other details of his clothes, fixing slight errors, straightening the shiny cloth. “I can't really see the use of a silver attire. It's brilliant, it's smooth, but... What is it implying? Why is it relevant to an Emperor?”

“I don't see the dramatic part” he comments lowly, emotionless.

“The drama is a whole House have a color to dress. Unnecessary, vain, indeed” after having nothing left to pretend to fix, you join your hands at your back, meeting his eyes with a polite smile. “I know my House is loyal to me and our ideals, even if we are many, and not only a family. We don't need a color or a shield. We're Polaritia.”

He only looks at you, taking what you said with a cherish he couldn't express. A nod, and he turns on his heels, summoning maidens to fix his hair.

Mission accomplished. You eased the tension on him once more, giving him something random to think about.

The days would go on like this. When not on field, fighting, you were wandering around spaceships, fortresses, either busy with the newfound Cultural Center of Polaria, with your own platoon, or, well, making sure Paul Atreides wouldn't go insane. The more battles won and planets conquered, the more his eyes would go hollow blue. Distant, shallow, lost inside his disturbed mind. His marriage with Princess Irulan, the already settled weight of him becoming the Emperor of the Known Universe, while being the Messiah of many people, was draining every single bit of humanity the young man had. And you were there, watching, trying the best you could to keep him sane, alive. To keep him as, well, himself. And it was an agonizing way to live.

That eyebrow wouldn't lift. His jaw wouldn't clench. No half smile, no silent curiosity. At a certain way, it was killing you too. And, hours before the ceremony of his marriage, you decided to step in.

“Excuse us” the maidens didn't question; not after your months of work and lone moments with the Duke. “Your Highness. I'd like to talk”

No answer, as always. He was sat at his bed, hair combed back, wearing a shirt that was being taken care by the maids. You stop right in front of him, determined. “Don't you give me that dead fish face, my lord. I know you hear me. Talk to me, please”

His eyes find yours slowly, emotionless. That makes your whole being shake with anger and frustration. “Sir. Talk to me” you demand. When he keeps staring at you with those glass eyes, blood burns in your veins, and you snap. “I will not stand here and watch you falling by the strings of a fate you didn't choose”

No reaction.

“For fuck's sake, Moad- Paul!” you yell his name. For the first time, it comes out your lips in a shout. “You are the fucking future Emperor of the New Universe, former Duke of Arrakis, of Polaria, Caladan, and countless other planets we raided days ago!” he wasn't reacting, but listening. His eyes weren't on yours, but down. At your moving angry lips. That could make butterflies on your stomach if you weren't so pissed. “You are the first man to behold the Voice. You are the Lisan al-Gaib, the Harkonning bastard who gave us freedom. You are a living legend, a god, a savior!”

You point towards him, you spit your words. None of them resonating within him, neither within you. No, these weren't the titles he needed. These titles weren't him. “Your Highness. Paul. I...”

How painful it would be to watch such a man fall for the manipulation of forces he himself could dominate. You get on your knees. Taking his cold hands in yours, you lay your forehead at his palms. “You are good. I see goodness in you. I see faith, of a million souls. And I see hope”

As you lift your head, the vibrant blue orbs are fixated on yours. His irises shake, switching from each one of yours. A reaction.

“And I see me”

It was true. You've been thinking about that for days, working it in your mind. “I was born to shine a light on my planet. To bring us recognition, greatness. To be Polaris”

He blinks. Just once. Listening.

“I lived under the shadows of a hundred people's expectations. Literally a hundred. That's our population” you chuckle bittersweetly, tears in your eyes. “And it was heavy. It was twisted, torturing. But I had to do be. If it wasn't me, no one would. And it was hard to not lose myself on it. On who they wanted me to be”

You squeeze his skinny fingers on yours, hoping it would convey your empathy, your deep need to bring that man back to life. You did it for yourself, once. And he deserved a chance.

“Paul,” it cascades down your tongue, your lips. Caressing your teeth with a sour taste. “before all of this, you were someone. You were the son of Leto Atreides and Gesserit Jessica. The boy of Caladan”

The stories were clear. And you had to study them, as Jessica required you and anyone near Paul to. “You were a loved son. The light of your parents, and your family, even if too monotone sometimes”

You get up on your feet slowly, pulling him by his delicate hands, and he follows. You lift your chin to the tall pale Duke, and whisper:

“Become a myth alive, Paul. Conquer the New Universe” your voice shakes, and by the warmth in your eyes, you know you had tears. “But, please, don't let them take Atreides from you”

His eyebrows twitch. You gasp, finally having a reaction. Tears fall freely down your cheeks, and you laugh alone at the way your emotions were overflowing. A hand is lift to the back of your neck, and you don't think straight when your face is against his bony shoulder blade. But you close your eyes, hands at his back, clenching the fabric in it.

He wasn't a friend. Or a companion. But you hug him tight, crying for the lost man whose chin was on top of your head. Whose nose was, now, sunk in your hair.

“The universe will be damned if you get lost” you whisper, voice shivering.

The feeling of his hand running softly in your hair gave you goosebumps. He was certainly not normal, certainly not the Paul Atreides. But he was, at least, conscious.

“The ones unseen are the ones to befriend” his voice is warm, low at the side of your head, reverberating inside your chest. “For in the cold darkness lies the truth of men”

His hand cups the crook of your skull, as he lowers his head to perfectly whisper at your ear:

“Stay with me, unseen one. Help me thread through the shadows surrounding us” it wasn't a command, but it wasn't a suggestion. A whisper to your soul, your beings speaking to each other.

“I will. I will stay with you, Paul Atraides” you whisper against the cloth of his blouse. Well, that was the feeling his believers had. Reverence, hope, submission. You understood it all.

“Thank you” he sighs, sending electricity down your whole body. One of his hands travels up to your cheek, and he looks inside your eyes like a lost, madman. But completely sane, as he whispers:

“I don't think Paul Atreides will exist for long” he admits, melancholy I his tone. “But with your help... Maybe I can have faith in me.”

I watched the movie and I had this sentence in my mind. "Don't let them take Atreides from you". And I had to find a way to put it out.

Please, tell me your thoughts! Every commentary is appreciated.

And to the ones who follow me, sorry for the hiatus. I'm working on some stuff and I promise I will try to finish them this year (lol).

Thank you so much for reading!! Love you all

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

31st Story

Part 2

TW: Captivity, implied past torture, blood mention, restraints, mistrust, starvation mention, defiant whumpee, corrupt system, knife

Heyyy! Long-time no see. I blame college 100% because it takes up all my time, seriously. Happy New Year tho 💙

Villain could tell himself he was already used to the cold, hard embrace of the dull rock of his cell, to the claustrophobia-inducing lack of windows, to the fact that the only times he ever got to see the light was when someone walked in to beat him senseless, a feat made incredibly easy with the help of the chains that shackled his wrists and ankles, not allowing for much movement.

He could pretend that being covered in blood and filth, dazed and starving, was nothing to him, that the maddening urge to find out what time it was wasn't gnawing at him torturously.

"In here, wishful thinking is all you are capable of," a sunken-faced, old prisoner had told him before he was thrown into his personal hellhole. He hadn't said anything, but he'd believed the old hag to be weak and hopeless, and thus so was her sentiment.

Right now, all he wondered was if he'd break even faster than that woman might have. The villain screwed his eyes shut, hoping it would stop the chain of thoughts poisoning his mind, but all that did was make him think clearer, every disturbing image he tried so desperately to expel growing clearer and more vivid by the moment.

It was bad enough handling the physical pain, where every time he so much as shifted his form slightly, the tormented muscles in his back would scream in protest. But the physical side was tolerable, compared to being left at the mercy of his mind; a cruel, sinister thing.

So consumed he was in his own reverie, he hadn't even noticed as the door to his cell was unlocked, at least not until the light skirting around the corner had him snapping his eyes open and sitting up.

"This doesn't look good on you," a silky, almost serpentine voice called out.

"Superhero?" he asked, despising the note of trepidation in his voice.

"No. Just her lacklustre twin," she scoffed.

"Vigilante," he deduced with a slight fall of his shoulders in relief. It's not that he believed Vigilante would treat him well, it's just that no one could rival Superhero in cruelty.

"Still ever the genius," she responded dryly.

"What do you want?" he asked, almost desperate. If she was here to torment him, he wanted her to get over with it. It was becoming progressively more difficult to bear the state in which he was in, the one chock-full of waiting and thinning patience, of hoping the pain would start so it could end, that this time would pass faster.

Except it never did.

"It's strange seeing someone normally so high and mighty like this," she attested, dodging his question.

The older version of him would have let out a frustrated snarl and cussed her out for annoying him, but now all he could do was bite his tongue and stare at her with his new resting face, broken and defeated.

"Well, I'm not here to hurt you," she said, folding her arms across her chest.

That was a response, albeit an indirect one. And of course, she wasn't here to hurt him. She was here to make sure he was comfortable, that he was enjoying his five-star stay in this resort in hell.

Sucks to have an army of enemies and not a single semblance of a friend.

He and Vigilante hadn't really had any direct bad blood, but he was a villain locked up in here, so by default, he was supposed to be her enemy, right? It didn't matter who walked in here or whether they knew him or not. They just loved to see him break, to see him, once so relentlessly powerful, reduced to less than nothing. Perhaps it brought them a sort of sick satisfaction, but he didn't know much about satisfaction anymore to judge.

"I'm going to get you out of here," she said casually, like promising him the impossible was some sort of small punishment, nothing to tear himself up about. Maybe she could rival her sister in cruelty.

Without warning, a hysterical laugh escaped his throat, only for him to bite his lip and stop abruptly, trying to clamp a hand over his mouth only for him to remember he was chained up.

Vigilante's face fell, and his own had silent tears streaming down it. He felt as though he couldn't breathe, as though bricks were raining down on his shoulders and crushing his bones into nothing. His whole being seemed to itch with dread.

"Villain?" Vigilante called out, looking a mixture of confused and horrified.

"Just get over with it! Torture me until the floor runs red with my blood, tell me how death is a mercy above vermin like myself, and tell me to take it with a smile. Hit me harder when I can't bring myself to do it. Hit me until I feel all the pain of death but never attain it. Remember my current words as defiance, as another crime I've committed. I think watching me be humbled to the nothing I truly am will entertain you as any show would," he spat, only for regret to colour his features just as fast.

"Damn it. Villain, I don't want to do. . .any of this to you," Vigilante started, careful, trying for a semblance of gentle, something she was never particularly good at. "Like I said, I'm going to get you out of here," she continued again, hoping the stern tone indicated she was serious and not somehow going to torture him.

She'd never particularly liked him, mainly because he'd always been ice-cold, calculated to a point he seemed inhuman at times, no emotion whatsoever showing up on his face, besides a cool smugness. And by virtue of all the terrible things he'd done, all the blood on his hands. And yet, he was far from the worst thing out there, and most definitely not the villain in her story.

"And let's pretend you're telling the truth, which is completely fine by me because any mercy I've ever had here has always been a pretence, a figment of my imagination, you know. What could you possibly gain from this?" He raised an eyebrow, bearing a small resemblance to his usual self. Well, at least there was a slight amount of fight left in him, even if he was clearly holding back tears now.

But the villain's question wasn't completely outlandish. Vigilante did want something from him, but it wasn't a favour he would ever come to hate. "I need your help. My sister may seem like the goddamn tooth fairy to those who don't know better, but we know what her regime is really doing. This isn't about fighting crime, it's about her insatiable addiction to power."

"And where do I belong here?" The villain's voice still held the same disbelieving tone, his shoulders managing to tense even further.

"You're one of the few people who challenged her, Villain. And as much as it pains me to say it, you're a good strategist," she explained, even though she knew she'd barely convinced him in the slightest.

"I can't be the only one fitting that description, but I can be the only one owing you a favour too," he answered. Even if he didn't look half as confident, half as untouchable as before, the criminal was still just as clever. But it also meant he wasn't believing her anytime soon. Still, he wasn't wrong. The villain may not have smelled like roses all the time, but he'd be loyal to make sure they were even; a man of his word.

"What's it gonna be, Villain? Come with me or stay here?" she asked, folding her arms across her chest, growing impatient.

Well, it didn't make sense for her to give him a choice if she was going to torture him, but sense no longer governed things in his mind, letting a fearful apprehension replace it, no matter how humiliating. The choice could easily be an illusion, another cruel joke in this comedy skit from the filthiest parts of hell.

But it could be a chance, and he was desperate. So desperate he'd risk feeling even further degraded when she laughed in his face and put him through whatever torment she'd have planned.

"Fine," he answered, looking up at her with trepidation in his eyes. He could already feel the regret tasting like salt on his tongue and the burn of acid at the back of his throat he recognised as shame.

So when the sound of his chains being unlocked rang in his ears, and the vigilante helped him up, the feeling of surprise was palpable.

"I just need to handcuff you while they can see us," she explained, noticing how slowly the villain nodded, mistrust still burning in his eyes.

She didn't like how weightless he seemed against her, barely able to walk. She hadn't fought him much, but she clearly remembered that while his frame was somewhat slender, the villain's build still used to be athletic. It was no surprise he'd deteriorated, but that didn't make his fate any less cruel.

"I'm moving him to the other facility," she announced, practically dragging the half-starved villain with her, the only response being curt nods from the guards.

They were lucky that no one here would dare question Superhero and by default, her sister, if they could even tell the difference between both.

And sure enough, there was an entry documented into the other facility, done with the help of a few handsomely paid workers. And while Superhero wouldn't buy into the lie for long, it would at least make sure she didn’t notice immediately that something was up.

✨️Break✨️

The drive to Vigilante's house was almost torturously long and reeking of the tension of two people who weren't used to each other. The villain ran his fingers over his wrists, now free of handcuffs, but they still hurt. All of him hurt, a constant, dull pain that he was almost used to, but that didn't mean he didn't miss the times where he could remember moments without aches all over his body.

That was only the least of it anyway.

"I think you'd want to clean up," the vigilante had suggested when they'd got to her house.

Instead of an off-hand "yeah" like he'd meant to, the first words that foolishly came tumbling out of his mouth were: "I can?"

This wasn't an option they gave him back there, and soon enough he'd stopped caring entirely.

"Oh," Vigilante had responded, giving him a solemn look. "I mean, yes, of course you can," she corrected hastily.

He nodded, quite literally shoving himself into the bathroom and swallowing down the awkward shame in his throat.

He'd grown so accustomed to pain that he'd barely even noticed the sting of the hot water on his open, practically fresh wounds, or how the shower water underneath him turned a dull pink. He was a lot more focused on how his sore muscles relaxed with the heat, how he seemed to get lighter with all the dirt off him, good sensations having become foreign to him in the time of his captivity.

He walked out to find a change of clothes (his clothes) on the bed in the room outside, catching his reflection in the mirror, bruises lining his cheekbones and jaw and heavy, dark circles underneath his eyes. The villain simply ignored the old memories of himself taking the time to style his hair and care for his skin, his mind hardwired for survival, looking around the room for anything he could use in case he had to defend himself.

Not that Vigilante was stupid enough for that.

Still, if she wished to hurt him, she could've done it faster, could've done it earlier. Maybe the villain wouldn't trust her blindly, but so far, he hated her less bitterly than he hated everyone else.

"How'd you get these?" he asked, walking out, looking down at the black zip-up hoodie and black sweats.

Vigilante shrugged. "From your place."

"You broke into my- whatever." It wasn't the strangest part about the situation now. "What are we supposed to do?"

"I think you need to rest," she suggested.

And she was entirely correct, given his exhaustion and how the shower had made him somewhat sleepy, so he nodded his head, walking into "his" room and waiting until she walked up to her room, waiting until he could walk out and check if she'd slept, and once he was sure, he walked into the kitchen, picking up a knife and bringing it to his room.

The villain knew it was scummy, but he wasn't about to risk being hurt again, and if the vigilante truly had good intentions, the knife would never be put to use. Still, the villain had managed to fall into a fitful sleep, still better than any night he spent curled up on a cold, hard floor.

Trust is never easy, especially for those who have been hurt one too many times. But people were not made to live forever encased in solitude, a safe option to the blind and foolish, but never a permanent solution. And while taking a risk in times of suffering might seem like a wretched fate, sometimes it is the lifeline you need to breathe again.

✨️Le Taglist: @larinzz @syberianjade @lateuplight @altu-interactions @enbious-prince @astr0-mj @thelazywitchphotographer @a-fucking-simp-00 @addictedsandwhichaki @justalittlecorrupted @quaggasus @theangstyclown @vernilliom @mothmancommitsarson @starssabove @kurai-hono-blog @talkingsperm @muffinrebel44 @sunnynwanda @annablogsposts @cardboardarsonist @itsmyworld23 @onlywhump @m3rakii @crotchgoblin69 @wtfevenisausername @pendarling @avloki-pal @kaiwewi @those-damn-snippets @genuinelythioehat-is-whump @ghostofnorth

Wanna be on the taglist? This'll take you there!

[hyenafu]

It's a bit of an odd question, but...have you ever seen a Slightly Damned fancharacter that was a Demon/Angel mixling? Nevermind canon. I've seen more Demon/Human OCs than Demon/Angels, and *these* are never-canon-ever. I refuse to believe I'm the first in ~20 years to have made a non-joke Angel/Demon. Being fairly new to the fandom, I don't know about the forums or older communities, but perhaps you of all people might know? Apologies if this question is misplaced. Love your work.

No worries, your question isn't misplaced! But I don't know much about the kinds of OCs people made in the past. Unfortunately, I was pretty down on the practice when I first started the comic. I know that making OCs has nothing to do with being a furry, but because my characters were animal-like, I was pretty negative about people making their own versions. Yes, I am well aware of how contradictory that is. I was literally a teenager. I wanted nothing to do with the furry community because they were the internet's punching bag at the time. I believed in misconceptions and gave into peer pressure, and I mistakenly thought people making their own characters would reflect poorly on me. Now I think fan content is great! I want to encourage more people to make OCs, and update my info pages with more details and clearer design instructions. In any case, while I can't shed light on the OCs of the ancient past, I can tell you that I did draw a hybrid Demon/Angel like, once, wayyyy back in 2005:

It's just a doodle from when I was 18. I didn't go anywhere with it and ultimately went into a different direction with the canon. But good on you for going for it anyway! I don't think canon needs to matter with people's OCs. That's the fun of fan content.

[hisui555]

Hazbin Hotel thoughts : Foils 2

(Foils 1 here)

(Foils 3 here)

(Foils 4 here)

Masterpost here.

Crawling back out of my cave because my stupid brain won't let me rest. Synapses fired all night yesterday, I'm sure there's some structural damage in the front lobe from all the fireworks going off and bouncing around the walls of my skull, but mostly color me impressed that my asocial side actually got cowed into submission, by PRODUCTIVITY of all things, holy shit, why can't it happen for job interviews ?

...Anyway.

Aaaand without transition I would like to talk about Rosie VS Carmilla (I'm putting a "VS" so that it's clearer from a couple/team, see Foils 1), especially around Ep 7, which has just this magnificent parallel between them, respectively coaching Charlie and Vaggie (yes, TV Tropes already covered that one, shhhh, don't tell my spark of productivity, it might disappear and play dead for months again). For the A plot, we have Charlie, led by Alastor, who's going to Cannibal Town to meet Rosie and ask for reinforcements - basically getting an army of cannibals to lend a hand, even if it's not theirs and has some bite marks on it. For the B plot, on the other side, Vaggie goes to Carmilla to learn how angels can be killed, and from that on asking her for the appropriate weapons. On both sides, the two girls learn about confidence and fighting for the right thing - Charlie grows into the leader she's capable of being, Vaggie steels her resolve and grows her wings back.

What's interesting about those parallel scenes is how much Rosie and Carmilla contrast each other, and are similar to Charlie and Vaggie respectively yet have differences : again, a square of foils. But let's talk about the (seemingly) older women first.

When we stumble upon Cannibal Town, it has a very gentlemanly aesthetic, streets are clean, people are well-dressed and polite, and if you forget the minor detail of cough eating people cough, they are quite the amicable bunch - something Charlie herself comments on, how "surprisingly nice" it is. The second we meet Rosie, we understand why : she's a councelor, the unofficial mayor and of course the Overlord representing them all. She's a faultless host (again, if you don't care much about her specific ingredients), very accomodating, and doesn't rebut Charlie right away despite her enormous demand. In fact, once Alastor chimes in that her citizens would be not only well-armed but also well-fed, she's happy to give it a go and coach Charlie on how to convince them (well, for the most part. Susan.), showing she knows her community very well. Rosie is shown as more of a knowledge broker : she trades information to Alastor in exchange of favors, seems to know things about him that even our deer friend doesn't ("A what now ?" *Pats your shoulder in ace, buddy. You'll get the hang of it.*), and overall comes off as very well-informed.

In the meantime, we follow Vaggie to the industrial side of the Pentagram, where it seems to be more smoke, steel and craft than rural, pictoresque town. Carmilla doesn't let Vaggie enter until she threatens to spill the beans out in plain view of the street, and once she's inside, Carmilla is immediately verbally hostile and commandeering the whole speech ("Ninety seconds."), rebutting each of Vaggie's claims with clinical precision - rightfully countering that she doesn't want to bring the trouble to her doorstep, and put her loved ones (+ workers) in danger, to which Vaggie counters (also rightfully) that if the Hotel fails to defend itself, Carmilla might still kiss her pointy shoes goodbye. Once the time is up, Carmilla attacks, but it's quickly blatant that she's actually stealthily coaching Vaggie into fighting better, both physically and mentally. She's ruthless, brutal, and elegant, but not with the same elegance as Rosie : Rosie's charm and mannierisms are day-to-day, yet she's a proud cannibal, so her elegance hides a very carnal nature by the way of eating human flesh (even if she wraps it in pretty ribbons in a candy box), while Carmilla's cold and sharp demeanor hides her graceful but efficient fighting style - I mean, have you seen those twirls and acrobatics ? Hot dang, she's cool. Rosie is a knowledge broker that knows damn well how to use her information, Carmilla is a weapons dealer that knows damn well how to use her weapons : no wonder she arms herself (and her daughters) first. Carmilla, on the surface, rejects Vaggie's deal, but after a few moments, we see that she's turning it into her own way of helping.

Now we arrive to the two main songs, Out For Love and Ready For This, who are almost back-to-back. Charlie has had her moment with Rosie, who genuinely helped her through her personal problems and her moment of uncertainty concerning Vaggie's secret, and it's time for the big rallying song. And, Charlie, you're cute and all, but sightseeing and camaraderie aren't the things cannibals are interested in - they might have a child's heart (somewhere in a jar behind a desk), but EATING is where it's at ! Good thing Alastor chimed in, hm ? Which kinda rebounds on his private part of the song with Rosie ("Stick with her, you'll be on the winning side !") : their motivations are more selfish than we think. Rosie is genuinely kind and empathetic, but not altruist : doing the Princess of Hell a solid might be a real advantage in the long run, especially for someone like her who trades in favors. On the other side, Carmilla has it out for her own reasons right away, but does a selfless move by teaching Vaggie and lending the weapons : while she doesn't directly stick her neck out, she still helps from the shadows. Her main motive is to protect her loved ones and avoid bloodshed, while Rosie's and the cannibals are to get their belly full and gain political advantage.

It's really like an hourglass between the two : Rosie hears Charlie (and Alastor) out and accepts to help but actually for selfish reason, actively and directly helping Charlie to assert herself, talking her through therapy and words - a language Charlie is very receptive to - teaching her confidence and leadership (something Vaggie already has). Carmilla on her side rebukes Vaggie but actually for more selfless (even if personal) reasons, indirectly (but still actively) helps her to rekindle with her own emotions and be honest with herself (something Charlie already is), all that through physical training and fighting - a language Vaggie knows quite well. You'd think they have the names of the songs crossed and mixed up, yet they fit perfectly : Charlie needs to be Ready For This and finally face physical confrontation, while Vaggie needs to be Out For Love and honest with her feelings and past. They both complement each other.

The smiles Carmilla and Rosie also give at the news are contrasting : Carmilla hears the news and smiles a little smile, to herself, looking proud that it worked, and proud of her 'student'. Rosie on her side has a charming, calculated, wide smile that seems to spell out 'now there we go' and 'ooh, this was nothing, darling' more than 'good job', complete with a cup of tea. It's like she smiles more at the camera than out of genuine pride, unlike Carmilla who just smiles to herself. You'd think tough-as-nails Carmilla would be the last person to teach people to fight for love, yet here we are, while ladylike elegant Rosie, who does show genuine understanding and kindness, is also planning to use Charlie for her own gain.

Wrapping this up, Charlie & Vaggie VS Carmilla & Rosie : Carmilla is kind of a more experienced version of Vaggie (a figther, determined, devoted to her loved ones), with Charlie's core ideas (love, compassion, avoiding fights) while Rosie is a more experienced version of Charlie (connections, empathy, people person) with Vaggie's way of thinking (strategic, knowledgeable, prepared).

Like Vaggie, Carmilla is a fierce fighter that you don't want to piss off, with people to protect, an expert in dealing with weapons (cherry on top : both about angelic steel), even physically they're quite alike : long white hair (especially when Carmilla lets hers go in response to Vaggie's grumbling), similar tone of skin, palette in dark grays and white mostly (Vaggie has more pink where Carmilla has black), both are also Hispanic. They already (unknowingly) share a duet in Whatever It Takes, with personal reasons very close to one another. Carmilla is the perfect combination of Charlie's ideals and Vaggie's realism, leaning more towards Vaggie's side as a fighter. They also look the less relatively demonic, past some features (like Carmilla's oversized arms).

Rosie on her side looks like an upper-class lady who is the leader of her town and an Overlord (mirroring Charlie being a princess and the founder of the Hotel), sharing some reds in their respective palettes (even if Charlie's is more solid red and Rosie's burgundy), pale hair and a very affable, accomodating demeanor. Rosie is the perfect mix of Vaggie's pragmatism and Charlie's kindness, leaning towards Charlie's side as an informator and councelor. They naturally stand in the spotlight, one way or another, and guide people through their problems. They're also both more "demonic" : Charlie is the literal Princess of Hell and hellborn demon, while Rosie has notable very sharp teeth, pitch black eyes (like the town citizens) and... what was it again...? oh right ! Eats people.

(Don't worry, I'm not always a smartass : sometimes I'm asleep.)

That went longer than expected (...as always), but, well, enjoy. Skyscrapers like those are useful when you have time to kill. I might need to consider doing a masterpost for those... might be more practical for those crazy enough to want to read all of my inane rambling (boredom is such a pain, right ?)

Hope you enjoyed.

Again, Masterpost here.

[thedreamingfish99]

Bright Sun Chapter One

5-8 x Reader

Summary Sawol is tired of seeing the two of you fight over everything and hate each other, but for better or for worst, a traumatic event might be what was needed to bring 5-8 and you closer to each other. Warnings : Slow burn, Ansgt, Hurt, Possible death Words : 4K Notes :

A/N: Haven't wrote anything in a while, but after watching Black Knight (Because Woo Bin is my god ever since School 2013) and absolutely falling with his character, I looked for fanfics and was disappointed by the small amount. So here I am trying to help some other lost souls like me. I really hope you enjoy! - - - - - CHAPTER ONE

The sky was getting clearer by the day, the sun beaming through fewer and fewer clouds as time passed. Sawol opened his window, pulling his arms on the edge to press his face against the grid and take his head out in the wind. He had started doing this every time 5-8 would light himself a cigarette, not really enjoying the smell of it, but truly loving the feeling of the caress of the wind on his face.

Even after they had stopped Cheonmyeong trucks from polluting the air, you still couldn't survive outside for more than twenty minutes without a mask. It was no surprise, it would probably take decades for them to be able to roam the earth free of a mask, if ever. But twenty minutes was no small feat compared to the eight minutes it used to be.

Sawol took a deep breath, even polluted, the fresh air tasted much better than the filtered one he was used to.

“It smells so good.” He whispered, taking in another full breath.

“Smells the same as always, polluted.”

Sawol turned to face the stoic man beside him, no expression showing on his face as he took one last inhale of his cigarette before exhaling and throwing it out of the truck's window. He then pressed on the switch, closing the windows with no pity for Sawol's arms that got pulled up with them.

He quickly regained his posture in his seat and faced his driver.

“Have you no joy in life except cigarettes?’’ Sawol asked, honestly curious.

5-8 gave him an empty glance before turning his attention back on the road. Knowing he wouldn't get any response, Sawol continued.

‘’Why can't you even enjoy the freshness of the air? You gave that to us!’’

5-8's mouth twitched with annoyance.

“I didn't give anything to anyone, I only took down the worm that was eating us alive.” He grunted in reference to Cheonmyeong.

“Fine.” Sawol pouted.

He folded his arms on his chest, his attention turned back to the road. It was quiet today like it had been for the past couple of days that he had gone on deliveries with 5-8. It had barely been a week since the event of Cheonmyeong's takedown and Sawol was still healing from the wounds he had gotten in the tournaments finals and the drugs that were administered to him. Well, that's the excuse he gave to everyone at the moment, not that it was a lie, his head was still killing him and he would feel some dizziness take over him from time to time, but in all honesty, he didn't feel quite ready to be on the road alone. He was scared to mess up and disappoint 5-8 on his first day.

Sawol shook his head to chase those thoughts away, he already had a solution, no time to dwell on that now.

“The sun..”

Sawol turned a confused look toward his friend, and raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to explain. 5-8 gave him a side eye and let out a long sigh.

“What brings me joy.’’ He continued in a low tone. ‘’ I like seeing the sun more and more every day.”

“Oh,” Sawol breathed out, remembering the question he had asked a few moments ago. A large grin grew across his face.

“What? You think it's more stupid than smelling the air like an idiot?” 5-8 teased him. ‘’At least I'm looking at something visible.”

Sawol took offense but didn't let his grin die. He turned in his seat to face the older man, who watched him from the corner of his vision, eyebrows raised in a quiet question as to why the younger one was smiling.

‘’Y/N and you are so much more alike than you think.’’

5-8 rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed upon hearing this, he let out an incomprehensible mumble, the grip on his steering wheel tightening. Sawol laughed at the sight of such visible emotion from the usual oh-so-unnothered legend.

‘’I can’t be as annoying as 6-2, that's for sure.’’

‘’I don’t care what you think or whatever quarrel there is between you too, it’s still true. You two are the same.’’

5-8 gave him a tired look and went back to concentrate on the road. Sawol was annoyed, his grin long gone. He lifted his legs, and feet on the seat and hugged his knees, resting his chin on them as he quietly watched the view from his window. Turned his back on 5-8, giving him the silent treatment. He hated the constant bickering going on between those two. Right after 5-8, Y/N was his closest friend. She was always there the whole time of his training when he was preparing to compete in the delivery man recruitment tournaments. She gave him amazing advice, trained him to fight, to drive better, and even helped him learn a few manners, not that he really listened during those sessions but still! She took care of him, brought him food when he forgot to eat by training for too long, she even took him to her place a few times so they could hang out, but mostly so she could be sure he rested well enough for him to heal and be ready for the next day. She took care of him like a big sister while his wasn’t available, and he loved her like family. Sawol let out a sad sigh, what in the world did he do to deserve that his two favorite people have a pure hatred towards each other? He never knew where those mutual feelings came from, not that he didn’t ask, that he did and many times. But he had never gotten a different answer then;

‘’She’s annoying’’ ‘’He’s annoying.’’

Their similarity used to make Sawol laugh about the situation, he remembered telling them that hating the other was pretty much like hating themself, but he only had reserved cold glances in return. Now, Sawol was just annoyed by it, desperate that their relationship would change for them to at least bear each other, enough that he could talk about the other without being ignored or interrupted by an insult.

The mutant closed his eyes, his head was starting to hurt.

- - - -

5-8 sent him a few glances, feeling slightly bad to make the younger one upset. He knew 6-2 was a sensitive subject with Sawol, he adored her so much. 5-8 used to wonder why, being such an annoying person as she was, but after hearing so many things she did for the youngster, he did at least understand and respect that fact. But it wouldn’t change the pure annoyance he felt towards her. 5-8 wasn’t used to feelings much, to him, his feelings were more of an observation than an experience. He did feel happiness, but he wouldn’t really laugh. He did feel sadness, but he wouldn’t cry. He never really felt deeply, with the exception of his hatred for Cheonmyeong… and his annoyance for 6-2. This woman could make him boil with anger sometimes, everything related to her, he would feel it times 10, and he hated it.

5-8 let out a sigh, he untightened his grip on the steering wheel and looked at Sawol. Sawol made him feel too, like the younger brother 5-8 never had. He cared deeply for him, more than he would admit, and he hated to see him upset, especially when it was against him.

‘’Why?’’ 5-8 resigned and asked. The youngest didn’t even open his eyes as he asked;

‘’Why what?’’

‘’Why do you think we’re so alike?’’ 5-8 gritted his teeth. ‘’Me and the annoying one.’’

Sawol jumped on his seat, eyes widened in surprise. He couldn’t believe what he had just been asked.

‘’W-what did you?’’

5-8 was starting to get annoyed, he didn’t even want to talk about it. He just felt bad for the kid and he was tired of the silence, he was used to no silence at all when Sawol was around, and he liked it this way. The man let out a grunt, looking back at the road.

Probably scared that this chance would never come again, Sawol decided to answer without forcing the grumpy man to repeat himself. He sat back comfortably in his seat, a soft smile stretching his lips.

‘’It’s what you said about the sun.’’

5-8 blinked in confusion, he glanced at Sawol as if pressing him to continue. He couldn’t help but be curious, no one really seemed to care about the sun except for him.

‘’Y/N, I mean 6-2 to you,’’ He let out a small chuckle before continuing. ‘’She showed me her tools and her notes, you’d love it, you know? She goes to one of the tall buildings in the old city. The same roof at the same time every day. When the sun is at its zenith, she said that’s when you can enjoy its warmth the most. She takes notes about it, some kind of research she told me. She notes the warmth and the brightness of the sun, and its color too. She notes the amount of clouds in the sky and the purity of the air. She showed me some of her tools, but it was honestly too complicated for me. I saw some drawings in her notes too, she’s really good… Anyways, you guys both love the sun. That’s what I meant.’’

5-8 didn’t really know what to think, he would love to see your notes and the tools you used, but he would never admit it to anyone, especially not to you or that traitor Sawol, who he knew would rat him out.

He was honestly surprised to learn you had such an interest in the evolution of the clarity of the sky as he did. He always thought he was the only one obsessed with seeing how bright the star could be without being filtered by the clouds and the heaviness of the air. He wished he could come to feel the warmth of the sun with you... 5-8 ignored the excitement that took his heart, curious about something else.

‘’How does she manage to make her delivery on time?’’

“Ah..’’ Sawol let out, itching the back of his head from embarrassment. ‘’She doesn’t really take any break.. and often works overtime.’’

5-8 raised an eyebrow at the confession, no breaks meant no lunch, and overtime meant less rest. Both of which meant a dangerous accumulation of fatigue that could prove mortal if she was ever attacked. Hunters were still pretty active in the area, and even though things were getting better, some of them just loved the thrill of the hunt and the killings... If you kept going like this, something bad was bound to happen.

‘’Don’t encourage her.’’ He heard himself say. ‘’Late deliveries give us a bad reputation.’’

That was half true and 5-8 knew it, yes he didn’t approve of late deliveries, but in all honesty, he felt a little worried. He might find you incredibly annoying, but you were still a fellow delivery man, and Sawol truly cared about you. 5-8 did not want anything bad to happen. Sawol snorted at the comment.’’

‘’Pfff, Mr.Perfect. You’re the only one that's never late. ‘’

- - - - -

You let out a grunt, lifting your head slowly. You felt your forehead with the tip of your fingers, feeling the crease the steering wheel had left on your skin. You dozed off again… It wasn’t the first time, and you were quite unhappy with your sleeping self to find the hard steering wheel so comfortable since it left you with a quite visible mark that took hours to disappear completely.

A throbbing headache attacked you as you opened your eyes, the light of the hangar too powerful for your exhausted self. After a tired sigh, you grabbed your cap and pushed it as low as possible. Today had been pretty rushing and you felt on the brink of collapsing. You unlocked your door and kicked it open, grabbing your notes at the same time. You climbed down off your truck carefully, contrary to your usual jumping to the ground. You barely had time to slam the door shut when you heard your name being screamed from behind. You quickly turned, just in time for Sawol to jump in your arms. Thankfully, your truck was there to catch you when you fell backward, having received a running mutant straight to the chest.

A painful complaint escaped your lips, the hard metal hadn’t been gentle with your back. Sawol quickly took a step back, grabbing your shoulders and giving you a worried look.

‘’Are you alright?’’ he asked, his face twisted with guilt. ‘’I’m so sorry I shouldn't have jumped on you like that.

You gave him a comforting smile as you gained back your balance.

‘’Don’t worry about it kid,’’ you said, shuffling his hair to tease him. ‘’You’re just heavier than it looks!’’

Sawol laughed, taking a few steps back to let you breathe a little. You watched him as he tried fixing his hair, he was smiling, but his eyes still seemed worried. You knew it was probably more about how tired you looked than from the hit you took. You felt a tightness in your chest, not liking that look on his face. You took all the energy you had left to jump back on him, locking your arm around his neck and messing his hair even more with your free hand.

‘’Revenge!’’

‘’Yah! Let me go!’’

Sawol fought you back but weakened by your laughter and your exhaustion, it didn’t take him long to free himself. With a fake angry look on his face, Sawol tried fixing his hair once again. You let your arm rest on his shoulder, heavier than you would’ve wanted, but the young man didn’t complain, and gladly let you subtly use him as support without having to ask. When he gave up on his messy hair, he smiled at you fondly.

‘’Don’t work tomorrow.’’ he whispered to you.

You hummed, not sure if you agreed or not.

‘’I’ll be fine.’’

Sawol let out an exasperated sigh, it made you feel more guilty than you thought.

‘’If you come with me..’’ you quickly added.

Sawol’s eye widened and he gave you the brightest of smiles.

‘’Of course!’’ he shouted happily.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you looked at the young man. You tried your best to observe his beautiful features glowing with happiness, it would make a nice drawing for later.

At the thought of it, your smile dropped. Anxious, you patted your pockets and looked around on the grounds, searching for your notes. When you finally spotted them a few feet away, you felt your heart stop as a hand was already reaching for them. you took a step in their direction but quickly stopped when you lifted your eyes only to be met by the dead look on 5-8’s face.

‘’You dropped this.’’ he simply said, handing you back your notes.

Your hand reached out to it, and you took hold of your notes, brushing your fingers with his by accident. You quickly retracted your hand, pressing the notes against your racing heart. You never liked it when someone touched your notes, except for Sawol which you cared for like a little brother. But the discovery of the notes and research you were doing would’ve been enough of a reason to get you killed when Cheonmyeong was still in power, making you used to keep them hidden. The bastards might not be in power anymore but you had kept the habit of keeping your research to yourself. The fact that you had some random sketches mixed with them also played into this, some of them private enough that you tried to keep them hidden even from Sawol… And even more to one of the most annoying men on earth, you wanted to keep them away, especially from him.

Still feeling the warmth of his skin on the tip of your fingers, you quietly thanked him. you tried not to think of the abnormal beating of your heart, concentrating on the fact that you now needed to wash your hands from having touched his annoying self.

5-8 eyes lingered on your small figure, his face void of expression. You suddenly felt quite self-conscious, you cared more than you’d like to admit what the man might think of you, and you knew right now you were barely holding it together.

‘’You look like shit.’’

His deep voice surprised you, and your eyes widened feeling pretty hurt by his comment. You wish you had something clever to bask at him in return, but your usual witty self seemed absent, asleep deeply inside out. Thankfully, Sawol ran to your rescue.

‘’Even on her worst day Y/N will always look better than you!’’

5-8 snorted at his comment, an amused look in his eyes as they never left your sight. You couldn't help but blush under his intense look. You were happy your cap was helping you hide a little bit of your flustered face. ‘’No one as handsome as you though,’’ you said breaking the awkward moment you felt stuck in. You pinched Sawol’s cheek, the smile you made appear on his face quickly leaving replaced by annoying and pain.

‘’Yah! I’m not a kid!’’ he screamed, hitting your hand so you let him be.

You let out a laugh and tapped his cheek playfully. Sawol pouted and caressed his reddened cheek with his hands.

‘’I’ll see you tomorrow, handsome,’’ you said before starting to leave, making sure to ignore 5-8 still standing close by.

- - - - -

The warmth of the sun on his face felt amazing, he had taken off his mask to appreciate it to the fullest. He felt at ease, thinking that this must be what paradise feels like. Sawol took in a deep breath, but before he had the chance to exhale naturally, he received a strong punch in the stomach, making him lose all his oxygen. He sat up in a jolt, caught by an uncontrollable coughing fit.

‘’Yah!’’ he spat between two cough.’’You wanna kill me or what?’’

Sawol barely had time to catch the mask you threw him before it would hit him in the face.

‘’Come on,’’ you laughed. ‘’Time’s up.’’

The two of you slowly packed your things back in the backpack you used to carry your tools and made your way back to the ground level, 30 flights of stairs below. No wonder you were so in shape, Sawol thought.

Reaching the floor level, Sawol took care of moving the big wooden wall you always put up to hide the entrance of the building you used to hide your truck. It was mostly a bunch of tall broken windows, but they were fortunately big enough for the delivery truck to enter the building's lobby so it wouldn’t stay outside, exposed, and left alone for hunters to take advantage of.

After finishing to slide the barricade away from the door, Sawol was surprised to find you sitting on the passenger side of the truck. He quickly jogged up to your window, his heart racing with anticipation.

‘’Is this what I think it is?’’

You watched him jumping from one foot to the other, not being able to contain his excitement. ‘’Mm,’’ you hummed positively. ‘’Hop in Mr. Delivery Man.’’

A small joyful squeak escaped his lips before he ran up to the driver’s side and took his seat. Sawol felt his breath being taken away as he caressed the steering wheel with profound admiration. He couldn’t believe he was actually sitting on this side of the truck for the first time. He let his eyes wander, taking in as much as he could, but the multitude of buttons and switches changed his dreaming expression into a frown. He had no idea how to use any of these. Your laugh took him back to reality, and he sent you a sheepish look.

‘’Help…’’ he whispered shamefully.

You burst out laughing even harder at the pitiful sight he offered you, looking like a child in front of a new toy that he didn’t know how to use. When your laugh came close to an end, you pointed at a few of the commands. Sawol followed your finger, looking closely and listening to everything you said with more attention than he had ever given to anything before.

‘’That’s the radio to contact other delivery man, we have a common channel, but if you want to call someone privately, you have to enter their number here,’’ you explained, pointing at a num pad before turning to something else. ‘’Here’s the lights control, there’s the camera around the truck, and here’s the defense settings you can use.’’

Sawol kept listening intently until she was done showing him everything, he exhaled deeply, impressed.

‘’I would’ve never known any of this on my own! Thank you.’’ he smiled at her, eyes sparkling with joy.

‘’I remembered when you told me you didn’t feel ready to be left alone,’’ you said softly. ‘’Well you’re not alone, I’ll show you everything so you’re ready when the time comes.’’

Sawol felt his heart melt. He couldn’t help but wonder why 5-8 hated you so much when you were probably the most caring and gentle person he knew.

The day was still young and you had quite a few deliveries left to do. Sawol let you show him the rope for the first few, but he then forced you to wait in the truck so you could rest. It was clear to him that you were exhausted and you needed the rest. He couldn’t help but smile when he came back from a home delivery just to find you in a profound sleep, head resting against the window. Sawol took on him to continue the rest of your deliveries as quietly as possible so you could sleep as much as you needed. A few hours later, Sawol had just made the last delivery and he was driving back towards the hangar, feeling quite proud of himself for the successful day that had gone by. He felt immensely grateful that you had taken time to show him the ropes, and after today, he felt confident that he would be fine on his own, that he shouldn't have to be scared to disappoint 5-8 when he’d be given his own truck. Plus, he couldn’t help but feel reassured that you had slept for a few hours, you deeply needed the rest and he was sure today had been quite helpful in putting you back on your feet.

Sawol's glance wandered from the road to its surroundings, he was surprised when he spotted a sand storm racing straight towards them. It hit them a few seconds after he had seen it, making the visibility outside incredibly poor. Sawol couldn’t help a rush or anxiety take over him, but he didn’t panic, he knew the way to the hangar by heart, he didn’t need to see far in front or the GPS. They were gonna be fine, he thought, no need to wake you over this.

Sawol took his foot slightly off the gas pedal and opened his lower beam. He continued driving carefully, not wanting to hit anything. Everything seemed to be going smoothly until he saw a dark figure lying in the middle of the road. Sawol rapidly hit the brakes, waking you up from the sudden stop. He gave you a quick reassuring glance before putting his mask on.

‘’Stay inside,’’ he commanded. ‘’It’s probably nothing.’’

- - - -

A/N: I don't know when the next chapter is gonna be posted, hopefully soon enough, but I might take a while with the Christmas vacation coming up, I hope you understand! Be sure to leave a comment to let me know what you thought! Much love!!

[askbombasticblake]

Wait hold up. Patch supported a pedo?!

Alright, I'm caffeinated enough to answer this.

Strap yourselves in, folks. This is gonna be a ride.

So during my year-long mental roller coaster ride back in 2021, one of the things Shiloh confessed to me during one of my spirals was that Lily was not the first predator they had run defense for.

No, that honor goes to their college roommate, a trans/intersex (can't recall which, I just know they're not cis) woman named Tianwei (forgive my spelling). Tianwei had told them 3 things, hoping that 1 would be excused because of the other 2.

First, that she was a pedo and had pedophilic thoughts about children regularly. Second, that her parents abused her for one reason or another. And third, that she nearly died in a house fire.

Now, to most sane people, the latter two wouldn't matter, because the first is still fucking horrid. Not to Shi! They bought into Tianwei's bullshit hook, line, & sinker, and let her continue to pursue her education instead of reporting her to campus police.

In hindsight, this puts their willingness to look past both Lily and Poppy's fuckshit in a totally different light, as we now have a pattern of behavior.

Now I already know what Certain People in the Peanut Gallery are gonna say: "What about you? We heard you confessed too!" Well, let's get into that.

As a bit of background, one of the things I am very open and angry about is the fact that I was abused by multiple members of my family. Sexually (by my dad & my sister), verbally, emotionally, financially, psychologically, and most importantly, physically. I'm not just talking spanking, either. One of the most common forms of abuse I can remember from everyone in my family is them hitting me in the head as punishment/in their own fits of anger. I'm talking striking me hard enough to see stars, cause temporary deafness, and in at least two cases, smacking me hard and fast enough to lift me out of my chair.

I say that because I'm pretty sure the aforementioned physical abuse was enough to cause some form of brain damage, and at the very least has scrambled my memory to some degree. Worst case scenario, the abuse at such a young age will cause my inevitable autopsy to show that I've developed CTE. Would certainly explain some things. Anyway, back on track.

That previously mentioned scrambled memory is what caused me to THINK I had done horrible things as a teenager. However, my saving grace is the fact that my friend/brother Kaiser was in contact with me during my teenage years, and he has a much clearer memory than me. As the Twitter post pinned to my blog states, I told Kaiser EVERYTHING back then, because I wanted to seem more active than him (I was stupid and competitive, gimme a break). Because he himself said that I never told him about something that heinous, but DID tell him any time I met with older men who were grooming me online, combined with the fact that he has trusted me enough to name me the godparent of his daughter, I can safely say that my guilt and manic spirals were caused by false memories, and thus my name should be cleared.

The same cannot be said for Shiloh. Between Tianwei, Lily, and Poppy, it's clear that they have a history of defending and enabling predators when those people have something to offer them. This pattern should call into question their own history, accountability, and lack of personal responsibility going forward.

TL;DR: I got hit in the head alot & falsely accused myself, Shi is a grifter & pred enabler. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk