#he's been sick for quite a long time now and is always tired and looks dull

[bandnerdlevel43]

Ravioli Week, Day Two- Tender Care (Sickfic, sequel to Day One)

Lu Legend x Ravio (Ravioli)

Summary: After a failed attempt to save Rulie, Hilda led Ravio and the others into hiding with nothing but a sick and injured Legend to show for their efforts. Everyone’s taking it badly- even Ravio, who’s Link is the only one free from the Shadow’s clutches, is unable to leave Legend’s side.

Word Count: 1,913

Warnings: Nothing major. Legend suffers the aftereffects of his time in Dink Jail, Ravio and Shadow are a little sad, Hilda is tired of Everything, mosty light angst with fluff at the end

A/N: I’m apologizing profusely yet again for being super late. In my defense, I hit a massive writer’s block after day one, and school has been the worst lately. At the same time, I didn’t want to quit Ravioli Week after being committed to it for so long, and this is the result. This was written in the midst of my dry spell, so it was mostly a sort of “practice run” with the focus on how each character bounces off of one another. I’ll be back to writing regularly (and maybe with better quality?) now that my braincells are working and school is over. Thank you so much!

----

“How is he?” Hilda asked.

Ravio blinked up at the Queen of Lorule from his spot beside Legend. Her hair was in a loose ponytail- he'd forgotten to help her braid it- and her makeup was minimal. It had been, ever since the rescue. Ravio couldn't judge. She had been preoccupied with other matters.

“His fever is getting worse,” he mumbled, softly running his fingers through the sleeping hero's hair. “His wounds haven't healed, and he's been coughing his throat raw.”

Hilda exhaled deeply. She sat beside him, joining him in his quiet vigil. “Is there anything I can get you?” she asked intently.

“Saria's taking care of it,” he said.

“I'm talking about you, Ravio, not him.”

Ravio hesitated. He looked away and shook his head. 

She laid a hand on his shoulder, and Ravio lifted his gaze to meet her eyes. They were tired, likely from the strain of holding the group together. She really shouldn't be worrying about him, of all people. She knew he could take care of himself. Still, she continued. “Ravio, you haven't slept in days,” she hissed under her breath. “You haven't eaten, either. What's going on?”

Ravio flinched and chewed the inside of his cheek. “I-I'm sorry, I just-” he stammered. “I've- well, I've been worried, see, and I just haven't found the time-”

Legend shifted and grunted in his sleep. Ravio froze with his mouth open. He snapped it closed and frowned, pausing for a long moment.

“Never mind,” Hilda muttered. “Just… promise you'll eat your food and get some sleep.”

Ravio nodded absently and narrowed his eyes at the rise and fall of Legend's chest, his ears flicking in amusement.

Hilda sighed impatiently and stood, walking away with her cape snapping in the air. He felt a prick of guilt in his heart for ignoring her, but it wasn't long before it was swiftly packed away into the neat little box in the back of his head where he hid the rest of his cares and worries. He was always left with some form of sorrow or another whenever he did that, as if his mind was lamenting the passing of his own emotions.

What a silly thought.

“Hmm… Were you eavesdropping on our conversation?” Ravio asked the trees. He chuckled. “For shame, Mister Hero.”

Silence. 

“Did you hear something you liked?” he went on, his tone light. “Or did you notice the irony in her request? One of the two, if not both, I assume.”

My, the crickets sound rather beautiful tonight.

“Bold. But justified, probably,” he reasoned. “And it's so very Hilda of her.”

“It's because she cares about you.”

One of the shadows flickered, and a blood red eye stared at him from amidst the gloom. “Idiot,” its owner added.

Ravio smiled. “Shadow. I should've guessed Hilda wasn't the only one in character today.”

“What does that mean?”

“Meaning I expected Mister Hero- who is currently faking sleep- to answer.” He shrugged. “I suppose finding another nosy hero in the bushes should've been expected as well.”

Shadow emerged from his namesake with folded arms. “Very clever.”

“Shut up, both of you,” Legend grumbled, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “Look, you're both very witty, but I'd bet each rupee in Ravio's pockets right now that Saria can hear every word you two are saying.”

Shadow snorted. “Doesn't matter. She'd know what our breath smelled like without even getting close.”

“It is somewhat of an inevitability,” Ravio conceded, “even if that is an absolutely horrible metaphor.”

“The kid knows things,” Shadow said, ignoring him. “You'll just have to get used to it, Blondie.”

It was almost funny how quickly Legend's expression went sour. Ravio had to give him a stern look to keep him from saying something insulting.

On the other hand, Shadow didn't show any signs of pleasure at successfully annoying him. His cap, which was normally very expressive, didn't curl or even twitch. Instead, it hung limply from his head. He must've been more depressed than he thought, Ravio realized with a pang.

“Look, Shadow, I’m-” Ravio started.

“Don't apologize,” he interrupted sharply. “I didn't come here to talk about myself. Or you, for the matter.”

Ravio wrinkled his nose, taken aback. “Care to tell us what you did come here to talk about?”

“Nothing,” the darkling responded curtly. He reached into the shadows and said, “Frankly, I'd rather not be here at all. But Saria and Aurora send their best wishes, and I'm the poor guy who has to bring ‘em.”

With that, he gifted Ravio a rag, a canteen, and a bottle filled with a shimmering gold-colored elixir. Ravio accepted them, dipping his head towards Shadow. Thank them for me, would you?” he said.

Shadow's only answer was a flick of his cap as he turned and let himself be swallowed by darkness. He left behind a lingering sense of melancholy.

Legend seemed to sense it, too. “Just like him to dampen the mood and leave,” he muttered.

Ravio winced and pointed out, “That's not really fair.” He's suffering, just like the rest of us.

When he didn't respond, Ravio shook his head and placed his hand over the other's heart. “You need to rest,” he said gently. “Here, drink this.”

He placed the bottle of elixir that Saria had cooked up for him in his hand. Legend cast it a suspicious glance before uncorking and downing it in one go. He grimaced as it went down.

“Water?” Ravio offered.

Legend shook his head.

“Take some anyway,” he insisted.

Legend scoffed, but grabbed the canteen and took a long drink. “Anything else you want me to inhale?” he asked sarcastically.

“Nothing else,” Ravio answered simply.

“Good, ‘cause I-”

Suddenly, yet another coughing fit struck, this one particularly nasty. His throat must be so raw by now, after having this sickness tear at him for so long. Ravio wrung his hands anxiously as he worked through it. There wasn't anything he could do, and he had always hated hearing it.

Luckily, it didn't take long for the coughing to abate. Legend groaned weakly. Ravio found himself shifting closer and allowing the frail hero to lean on him.

“Are you alright?” he asked nervously.

“I'm fine, Rav, stop worrying about me,” he rasped. He pursed his torn and bitten lips and reached again for the water. 

“Can I get you something to eat?”

“Ravio, really.”

Ravio bit his tongue. He couldn't help it! He was so worried- terrified, even- that his lover would do something rash to prove he was strong, or something noble and courageous like that. Heroes were prone to being stubborn idiots and getting themselves hurt because of it. Besides, fretting over these stupid heroes was one of the few things he was actually good at.

“Could you at least try to sleep for a couple more hours?” Ravio persisted. 

Legend scowled. “Sleep is all I've been doing. Sleep during the day, sleep during the night, take an elixir, repeat.” He clenched his fists. “It's driving me insane. I want to do something, Rav.”

Ravio understood, he truly did. He just wished he'd stop being so obstinate about it. “If I take you for a walk after, would you do it?” he suggested.

Legend hesitated. He mulled that over in that frustratingly beautiful head of his, pretending not to care too much, but Ravio had seen how his ears had perked at the idea. He wasn't too surprised when Legend nodded.

Ravio wasted no time in gently pushing him back down into his bedroll and tucking him into his blankets. He doused the rag that Shadow had given him in water and wrung it out so it wasn't soggy. He placed the damp cloth on Legend's forehead. He didn't miss the tiny sigh of relief that slipped from his lips as it made contact with his burning skin. 

“Hilda’s right, you know,” Legend said abruptly. “You shouldn't be starving yourself for my sake. Or keeping yourself awake all night.”

Ravio stiffened. Lolia! Why was everyone worried about him? Would he never escape?

“And this, ladies and gentlemen, is what we call irony,” announced a tiny Shadow in his head. He metaphorically swatted it away.

“I'm not going to explode if you get a snack or something,” Legend informed him.

Ravio shot him a flat look. “Thanks,” he remarked. “I feel better already.”

“Ravio, I mean it.”

“You're being just as sarcastic, Mister Hero.”

“Am not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I am not!”

“I already know you're not going to explode. That's sarcasm, Link.”

Legend rolled his eyes. “Fine. But if you don't take care of yourself, I'll make you,” he warned.

“Oh?” Ravio raised a brow. “And how will you do that?”

Legend smirked. With a devious glint in his eye eerily similar to Tetra’s own, he pounced. Ravio yelped as he was tackled from his seat and wrestled into the hero's bedding. He strained to free himself, but to no avail. He was startlingly strong, even when sick! 

“Link, you're contagious!” he gasped.

“Should've thought about that during dinner last night,” he growled teasingly 

“How was I supposed to kn- ACK!”

Ravio let out an involuntary and extremely undignified squeak as Legend poked a finger into his side. Sensing weakness, Legend continued to prod him mercilessly. Ravio squealed and squirmed but Legend refused to relent. 

“Link! Stop it!” he giggled uncontrollably. “Let me go!”

Legend laughed at him! The audacity of that Hylian! He had half a mind to whack him with his own pillow.

“Okay, okay, I get it!” he panted. “I'll do it, just let me go!”

Legend let him wriggle free and stumble to his feet, grinning mischievously up at him. Ravio's face was red, but he tried to hide his embarrassment by pretending to dust off his robes.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Mister Hero had the gall to say. “I'm sure Saria has something you can eat.”

Oh, Goddess, Saria! She had heard everything, hadn't she? Ravio groaned, covering his face with his hands.

“If you-” Legend began.

“Not a word out of you, Mister Hero,” Ravio chided. “You resorted to tickling to coerce me. How low the Hero of Legend has sunk!”

“Stop being dramatic,” he chuckled. “Now, scram. Eat some bread or something.”

“I'll have you know,” Ravio sniffed. “I am being as dramatic as the situation calls for.”

“Hey, I told you to get lost, didn't I? Go on, now. Shoo.” Legend waved his hands at him.

Ravio stuck his tongue out at him like they had when they were kids, bickering over trivial, meaningless things like the price of a hookshot or where to put Sheerow’s cage. It was almost unbelievable how dramatically things had evolved since then, yet some things were as familiar as ever. Goddess, he loved that man, even when he acted like a constipated raccoon with cacti for droppings. Maybe that's where he found the patience to turn around, approach Saria, and ask for one of the pastries she loves making. Her overjoyed expression almost made it worth the mortification of being teased about his husband.

When he returned, Legend was nestled in his blankets, curled into himself and snoring softly. Ravio found himself smiling as he brushed his pink-tinted locks from his lover's face.

He decided to eat the pastry. Legend deserved some sleep untormented by thoughts involving Ravio's own self-care.

It was the sweetest he'd had in a long time.

[notafunkiller]

What if I am too much?

Summary: When Sam's girlfriend calls you clingy, you decide to give Bucky some space. What you don’t know is that he doesn’t want any space. None at all.

Pairing: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings: 18+, angst, teasing, language, pet names, spanking, daddy kink, metal arm kink, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 2.2K

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: I want to thank @marvelouslizzie for her help!

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

“Oh, you’re alone?”

You turn your head in the direction of the voice and smile politely. You don’t recognize this woman, but she looks at you like she does.

“Uh, yes. Hello!”

“You don’t remember me, do you?”

You instantly blush, ashamed, and search for Bucky’s face in the crowd. Nowhere to be found. Damn it!

“No, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she says before coming next to you. “I’m Misty.” Brunette, tall and beautiful.

“Where did we meet?”

“Sam’s birthday, but I’m not surprised you don’t remember me. You were too busy clinging to Bucky’s side all night.” She sounds serious, and you freeze, having no idea where this came from. She simply laughs, grabbing your arm with some kind of bionic cold hand for a second before letting it go.

It’s not like Bucky’s. It’s more... robotic.

“Clinging?” You ask confused.

“Yeah, you know, always sitting with him, holding his arm, following him around.”

You puff, already annoyed by this random woman. “Following him around? I’m not a dog!”

“Didn’t say you are a dog, honey. Just pointing out the obvious.”

You try to hold your tongue, pushing aside the impulse to start a fight. This is a night about Bucky. Not you or your discomfort. And she is his ex-co-worker-friend’s girlfriend. Your anger can wait.

“Alright, but how does my clinging affect you, though?”

“Oh, don’t take it so personally! I just meant to be friendly. It’s a girl’s advice. Live a little, being insecure is not gonna save your relationship.”

A piece of advice no one asked for. A take you never even considered. You’re not insecure and you’re definitely not keeping Bucky to your side all the time. You don’t… He is free to do whatever the hell he wants.

“Thank you.”

She has the audacity to laugh. “Don’t be so defensive, honey! Gonna get a cocktail, want some?”

You shake your head, feeling a hole in your stomach after she leaves you alone, and you basically run to the bathroom, trying to calm down. What if she is right, though? What if Sam heard or saw something? Maybe Bucky is extra grumpy or unhappy. Maybe he even complained…

You never thought sitting with Bucky is a sign of clinginess. You thought it’d help... he is not the most comfortable person at events. He gets stared at a lot, he hates small talk, and you really like being close to him. Gosh, you are clingy!

The rest of the night passes like a blur. When you come back, Bucky’s waiting for you, and despite your instinct to wrap your arm around his back and let him hold you, you keep a little distance, giving Sam and his nosy girlfriend a fake smile, while Bucky keeps staring at you strangely.

You even manage to avoid touching him all week somehow, except for a few kisses now and then. Your period came, and as he tried to hold you, you had to fight tears while telling him not to. You’re sick and tired and you miss him, but you want to give him some space. You’ve been suffocating him for so long... You make sure to cry only when he’s out because he might hear you even in the shower. He has super hearing after all.

You thought it would become easier every day, but quite the opposite. Every time you’re close to giving up, you remember Sam’s comment that he made a week after you met him about how Bucky always likes his space and what Misty told you, so you fight against your wish.

Until Sunday afternoon.

You’re in bed, scrolling down on Instagram as Bucky comes out of the shower. You try not to stare at him, but how can you not? He looks absolutely incredible.

What you don’t expect is him trying to get on top of you to tickle you with a huge smile on his face. He’s so adorable.

“B-Bucky, stop!” You laugh as his hands get under your T-shirt. He loves making you laugh no matter how he does it. “N-no.”

“Oh, I will,” he says playfully.

But what he failed to tell you is that stopping means sneaking his head under your T-shirt, which starts to rip a little because of the stretch, and resting it on your boobs.

“Bucky!”

He puffs, annoyed. “Why the fuck are you wearing a bra in the house, bubba?”

“Cause it’s a bra?” You ask back sarcastically, but you know this is weird. You always complain about needing to wear it outside. But inside? It’s even worse.

“Unacceptable.” He quickly rips your bra in half, not bothering to unhook it, and you feel his beard on your breast all of a sudden, making you shiver. Fuck, you really miss this.

“B-Bucky, come on, your hair is a little wet!”

“Bubba, please...”

“Bucky! Why did you do that?” He immediately takes his head out of your T-shirt, and you almost cry. He looks do lost and scared.

“Baby, do you not want me anymore?”

“What the fuck?” You groan. This is the last thing you wanted him to think. All you tried to do was to make him happy and feel less pressured.

“You don’t let me touch you. You don’t want to cuddle with me. You don’t wake me up with kisses. You don’t get on top of me You don’t hug me! What did I do?”

Your heart aches for both of you. “Wasn’t that better?”

“Better for who?” He cries. “This was the worst week of my life since Hydra.”

“Unfortunately, that cannot be true, Bucky.” You sigh, getting closer to him. “I thought you like space...”

“I do, but not with my fucking baby!”

You melt at his words, truth be told. He said it so passionately, but you’re so confused.

“I thought I was being too clingy, touching you too much, you know?”

“What? Where did this come from?”

You close your eyes. How are you supposed to answer this without sounding like a petty bitch?

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it does!” You feel his hands grabbing your face so you can look at him. “It means I did something wrong.”

You frown, upset that he thinks that. He’s been nothing but kind, understanding, and loving to you, and you hate how he feels like he failed you or something.

“Sam’s girlfriend told me I am clingy... always with you, never leaving you alone to breathe basically. And it reminded me of Sam saying how much you love your space, and I just...” You try not to cry, you really do, but you cannot hold back the tears this time, which Bucky immediately reaches to wipe with his flesh fingers.

“Jesus, baby! I don’t give a goddamn shit about what they say, you aren’t allowed to listen to anyone! Just let me touch you.”

You immediately wrap your arms around his neck, and Bucky lifts you a bit so you can sit on his lap. You can hear his heartbeat, and you find that so peaceful.

“I thought you’re gonna break up with me, honey.” He whispers in your ear. “I was terrified when you didn’t let me cuddle with you.”

“I’m so fucking sorry, baby.” You don’t know what else to say. You hurt both of you for days just because you let some woman get inside your head, but you had good intentions. “I just didn’t want to be a burden.”

“I should be the one saying that, not you, bubba.” He leaves a kiss on your shoulder. “God, I missed you so much, it feels surreal to touch you.”

“I love you, I’m sorry.”

“Promise to never do this shit ever again!”

“I’ll try,” you murmur. “I didn’t realize you want me to touch you so much.”

Bucky lifts your head. “You know I have to punish you for that, right?”

“Punish me?” You ask surprised.

“Yeah, for believing some stranger over your man. For pulling away and giving me a heart attack. And for depriving yourself of my cuddling skills.”

You giggle. “What if I let you suck my nipples for a whole week anytime you wanted?”

“I already do that!” Bucky lifts your T-shirt as he speaks, and you gasp.

“You do not!”

“Yes, I do. Remember when I came home from the last mission and I made you come by-” He lowers his head and licks your right breast, avoiding your nipple.

“Fuck you, tease!”

“I am the tease?!” He snorts, continuing to lick.

“You’re always the tease. Now kiss me and gimmie your cock.”

“I won’t give you anything until I punish you.”

“Jamie!” You scream when he turns you around, ripping off your shorts in half, along with your underwear before placing you on his thighs. “What the fuck?”

“What the fuck to you for keeping yourself away from me.” You feel him caressing your ass for a few seconds before slapping your right cheek with his flesh hand. You squirm, gripping into his hip.

“F-fuck!”

“Count.”

You groan. “Jamie...” He spanks you again but harder, and this time you moan. “T-two.”

“Nope, we start over.”

“O-one.”

“Good girl!”

The third and fourth aren’t as hard as you want and you find yourself wiggling your ass in the air.

“Harder.”

“Harder?” He snorts, amused, and before he can bring his flesh hand in the air, you grab his metal arm.

“Please, daddy, use this one!”

Daddy? It didn’t take too long for you to get back in the mood.

“Can’t use it, baby, I’m sorry.”

“No!” You cry. “I need it, pleaseee. I’ll ride your face as many times as you w-want.”

Bucky still doesn’t agree. “Baby, it would hurt.”

“Let it hurt!”

You want it to hurt because this pain is not unbearable, quite the opposite. It pushes you over the edge faster.

He sighs and listens to you, bringing his metal hand to your ass, but you barely even feel it when he slaps. You groan, upset.

“I said slap! Do you want me to hover?”

“I can fucking hurt you.”

“I told you to hurt me!” You beg. “Please, honey! Please, please, please.”

He does it again, not hard enough for you, but you count anyway. Again and again.

“Jesus, you’re making my thighs so wet. You’re such a little whore for me.”

“I’m your whore. Always, daddy, please!”

Bucky’s moan comes somehow from the back of his throat, and the last spanks are perfect. He gently caresses your ass, cooling it off with his metal hand, and you smile. “You’re so dirty sometimes, but also such a good girl taking your punishment perfectly.”

“I am sorry,” you whisper.

“For what exactly?”

You pout, grabbing his face. “For all of it. But you’re you, Bucky. You’re the greatest guy in the world, I just didn’t want to be annoying.”

“You were annoying when you didn’t let me even hug you.”

You know that, but sometimes you can’t help but do dumb things, thinking about him. “I wanted you to be happy.”

“Well, I wasn’t happy, obviously. And neither were you, bubba. Promise me you’ll talk to me first next time.”

“I was just stupid…”

“No.” You feel his thumb all over your lips. “You were worried. I love you and I really need your touch, okay?”

“I noticed,” you laugh.

“Good, now feed me my boobs, and then I wanna see you riding my face as you negotiated.”

You fake sigh and grab your boob. “Open up.”

*

You’re not sure how to react when Bucky drags you straight to Sam and his girlfriend as soon as you get inside the museum.

“Hey, Buck-”

“Who do you think you are?”

Misty gasps while Sam and you freeze.

“Wow, wow, wow, man. Hold on a sec, what is going on?”

“What is going on, Samuel?” Bucky asks rhetorically through his teeth. “Ask your little girlfriend where she got her audacity from to tell my girl she is clingy. That she basically spends too much time with me. Who the fuck gave her the permission to even speak to her? So she either apologizes and keeps her mouth shut, or we’ll have a big problem.” Bucky turns his head to look at Misty. “From one metal arm to another. Wanna try me?”

“You did what? What the hell?”

Misty frowns, staring at you. “You went to complain to him for giving you a friendly, harmless advice?”

Bucky instantly grabs her metal arm wrist before you can answer.

“You got three seconds to beg for her forgiveness before I snap your hand in half. And I am not bluffing.”

Sam doesn’t even try to get between them, simply watching, and Misty immediately gets teary.

“I’m... sorry.”

Bucky shakes his head, squeezing her wrist. Holy shit! You haven’t seen him like this in ages. “Didn’t hear you.”

“I am sorry. I should have minded my own business!”

“Yes, you should’ve,” you say without regret. “But I forgive you.”

Bucky lets go with a grunt before nodding to Sam and bringing his hand to your hips, leading you toward the exit.

As soon as you are outside, you don’t even care if someone can hear you as you speak. “Fuck, I wanna suck your cock so badly!”

Bucky laughs. “I see. In the car… is that okay for you?”

You get on your tiptoes to kiss him. “Perfect.”

[coryosbaby]

Cw: stepcest (stepbrother x stepsister), intoxication/drug use, a bit suggestive . Slight angst . Soft Rafe <3

Rafe, he thinks, fell in love with you before the drugs.

He shouldn’t of— and for obvious reason. You were perfect, an angel. But you were Rose’s daughter.

He tried to pry the thoughts away, at first. Tried not to think about your kindness, your innocence, your pretty eyes — your ass, your tits, your cunt. But it wasn’t long before they utterly consumed him.

Another day it was, in the Cameron household: Rafe, coming home, completely coked out of his mind, drunk, and clattering around in the kitchen. He didn’t know what he was looking for, just knows that it had something to do with a spoon and a jar of peanut butter.

It would’ve been almost funny if he didn’t look so distraught to you. When you came down the stairs you knew the noises were Rafe. He always did this; you’d have to clean him up, put him to bed— sometimes you’d cook for him. But that was when he was in your good graces.

“Rafe, what the fuck are you doing?” You groaned, rubbing your eyes sleepily. He hadn’t woken you up, but you were extremely tired. You had wanted to wait up for him because he promised to go on a 7/11 run with you when everyone was asleep and then watch a few movies.

And as usual, he broke his fucking promises.

It angered you, but when Rafe turned around and greeted you with that beautiful intoxicated smile, your frustration wavered when you saw the way his eyes seemed to light up.

“Hey, y/n!”

“Hi, Rafael.”

He frowned, knowing you only called him that when you were aggravated at him. He stumbled drunkly when he tried to approach you. You made sure to catch him by his arm.

“God, you’re wasted,” you said. “Do you feel sick?”

“I did…” he slurred. “But ‘m better now that my favorite girl is here.”

Your face became flushed at his words, but you pulled yourself out of your wandering thoughts and dragged the boy over to the couch. He plopped down onto the cushions, grunting.

“‘M tired..” he murmured.

“Gotta check you for any cuts, first.”

You usually checked him out so you could make sure he wasn’t fighting anyone or getting any bad injuries; he was likely to not even feel it until morning, and when he got a disgusting cut on his ankle once it had got infected and he had to be sent to the hospital. You’ve cleaned up his wounds since then.

And of course, taking his palm into your hand, you found that he had a medium sized cut on his palm. You sighed.

“Any idea how you got this?” You asked.

“No sir, doctor, sir.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“You love me.”

It was true, but you just let out a scoff and went to get the first aid kit from one of the cabinets in the nearest bathroom. Pulling out the proper cleaning materials, you got on your knees in front of Rafe and began to care for his wound. He was almost in a daze as you did this; you looked even better when he did a line or two. He’d mistaken you for an angel quite a few times.

“You’re ‘s pretty.” He whispered.

You couldn’t help but smile. You didn’t say anything until you could see that his eyes were shut and his breathing had calmed. You looked up at him and lightly slapped the side of his cheek.

“Rafe— you can’t go to sleep yet.” You stated calmly. He opened his eyes, just a tiny bit, and a grin spread across his face when he saw your doe eyes staring up at him.

“Sorry, sweets. Couldn’t help it.”

You finally wrapped some gauze around his cut. Made sure to press a kiss to it. He always gave you hell if you didn’t.

“Cmon. Gotta get you upstairs.” you said.

Rafe yawned and stretched when he stood up, and you grabbed his hand so you could guide him up to his room. It was immediate when he saw his king sized bed, and he made sure to strip down to his briefs and climb under the covers. You tried not to stare too long at his chiseled chest or his pretty sculpted muscles. You were about to leave when his fingers grabbed your wrist and wrapped tightly around it.

“Stay,” he murmured. “Don’t want you to go, momma.”

The nickname isn’t one he used often, but on nights like this he let it slip up once or twice. You didn’t mind it; in fact, it was quite cute.

“I shouldn’t,” you replied.

“Please.”

You couldn’t say no when he begged like that, with those puppy dog eyes. You had already gotten into your pajamas earlier in the night and done your skincare routine so you didn’t really have anything left to do. You climbed in beside the boy, laid down beside his half naked body. You didn’t trust yourself or him to be in the same bed, but exhaustion was taking over you and you just wanted to sleep.

“Happy?”

“Mhm..”

He looked up at you, dazed. He stared at your lips almost intensely. It wasn’t long before his breath was hot against your lips and he was trying to lean in.

You move away from it, from his kiss. You couldn’t do that with him. You knew how wrong it was.

“Don’t. Please,” you murmured to him. Rafe looked saddened, pained, at your rejection.

“Give me one kiss,” he pleaded. His thumb came up to run over your bottom lip. Your face was on fire. “Just one, I promise. I can’t keep going on like this forever, without one kiss.”

You wanted to kiss him; you wanted it so badly that it hurt. You had wanted it since the first year that you moved in and saw him sitting at the kitchen counter with a bowl of cereal every morning. You’ had wanted him since he taught you how to roll your first joint, took you to your first high school party.

You always wanted him.

You gave him what he begged for. It was small, feather light and like angel wings against Rafe’s lips. He went back in for another one; he knew he promised just one, but as usual, the boy didn’t keep his promises.

You let him, though. And it felt nice. He peppered them along your neck, too, after that. You could smell the alcohol on his breath and the cologne he used as he did it. It left electric shocks along your skin.

After one more sloppy kiss against your jugular, he pulled away and buried his face into your neck sweetly.

You didn’t know how you were going to look at him in the morning. You didn’t know if he even remembered the next day.

He did, though. He remembered all of it. In fact, he made sure to get you back in his room and kiss you even more the next night, and the night after that, and the night after that.

You were so fucked.

© 2023 bratty-lxndry444 🤏🏻 all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, repost, or claim as yours !!!

[stylesharrys]

Love Me Like You Do

Harry’s never had someone take care of him the way that Y/N does. 

A/N: here's another old exclusive guys. there are lots and lots of fics lined up for you for the next couple of months while I work on a 20k realtor!y/n and a 20k ex-boyfriend! Harry so enjoy!

WC: 2,361

//

At first, Harry thought nothing of it.

The honeymoon phase, he told himself. It made sense, it was expected. His past lovers had all been the same during that time — always obsessed and seemingly in love. Seemingly. 

But after a few months, they always started to change. They’d distance themselves first, take a while longer to reply or to get in contact with him. Then, they’d get blunt and annoyed quickly with him. They wouldn’t want him close, wouldn’t shower him in affection. Wouldn’t let him touch them. 

And then, eventually, they’d leave. Maybe on the odd occasion, they’d butter him up and get a little splurge on his card, or go to him just for their release. A few had cheated, some just left. Nothing for Harry has ever lasted past a year and a half, and now it’s nearing the two-year mark and he’s confused. 

Y/N is a lovely woman. She’s kind, funny, smart, gorgeous. Harry thinks her kindness and wit is what attracted him to her in the first place, and in the two years he’s known her, he’s only started to love her more. 

It’s not like he thinks deep down she’s a horrible person, but Harry has grown accustomed to how things typically work in his relationships, and none of the above has yet occurred. 

Currently, he’s lying on his stomach with his face smushed into Y/N’s pillow. She’s straddling his lower back, her bum on his bum and his shirt is long gone as she massages the tender knots out of his shoulders. She’s been doing it for thirty minutes now. Harry’s been watching the clock. 

He’s been feeling a little ill the past few days. Migraine, sore muscles and the occasional fleeting moments of nausea. He lost his appetite and strength pretty quickly and Y/N has been on the ball with it — at his feet with a sick bucket, coddling his head to her chest with a cold compress against his skin. She’s done it all and Harry can’t quite understand it. 

From past experiences of being ill or caught with the flu, the only person to have ever taken proper care of him had been his mother. And now, his lover is doing what past lovers didn’t, and Harry’s confused.

It’s not that Y/N isn’t an overwhelmingly kind and compassionate person, because she is. Her caring and nurturing behaviour is nothing out of the ordinary for Y/N, but Harry has never experienced such care from a romantic partner before. 

It’s like Y/N has forgotten about the gruelling twelve-hour shift she just got home from, but Harry hasn’t ,and although he’s the one that’s sick, she’s the one that’s been on her feet all day. 

“Come on, I’ll do you.” His words come out gruffly, muffled slightly by the pillow that restricts the fluid movements of his lips. He can feel Y/N shake her head from above him. She sinks the balls of her palms into the backs of his shoulders. 

“You need to relax and rest.” She argues, thinks her reasoning will be enough for him not to ask again.

Harry shakes his head and shuffles beneath the weight of her body. Y/N lifts to her knees, allowing him to turn beneath her and onto his back. Harry’s eyes are bleary and sleepy as he blinks to gain his bearings. He stretches for her hips, hands finding them with ease. 

She’s sitting on his lower tummy, dressed in a pair of cycling shorts and one of his old Rolling Stones t-shirts that she changed into the second she got home. There’s dotting of mascara smudged below her eyes and a couple of pimples that are starting to show through the worn, minimal makeup. 

He knows she’s had a long day, could tell the second she got in and pretended that she was okay for his sake. Her hair is tied back low on her neck, stray strands wildly framing her face. She looks tired, burnt out. Harry just wants to look after her. 

“Bad day?” He finally asks. 

Y/N blinks twice and shrugs, head rolling as her shoulders raise and her cheek meets it. “Busy,” she tells him. “Nothing I’m not used to.” 

Harry squints. 

He knows she’s used to it — the long days with early starts and late finishes, the ones without a break in-between, where she doesn’t get to eat, save for a few grapes she manages to steal every now and then. He knows she’s used to it, but that doesn’t mean it’s not exhausting her.

He squeezes her hips gently. “Know you’re used to it, pet. Don’t make it any easier, though.”

She doesn’t say anything. Her hands are on his, encouraging them to sneak up her shirt to feel her skin. She’s warm, soft. Y/N pouts down at him. “Want a kiss.” She says, eyes glassy with affectionate need. 

Harry copies her expression, reaching up to caress the side of her face. “Can’t let ya get sick, babe. Why don’t you let me run you a bath and you can relax?” He offers, eyes gentle and she lets hers flitter closed for a moment, like she’s pondering over her answer. 

She shakes her head. 

“You’re the sick one. I’m going to run you a bath, and then I’m going to make you some soup for your throat. Know it’s still been hurting you.” 

Harry doesn’t say anything — knows that whatever he argues, she’ll bite back better. His body sinks into the sheets, head in the pillow as a heavy huff of annoyance and adoration slips from his mouth. 

//

When Y/N said she’d run him a bath, Harry didn’t expect it to be overflowing with bubbles or for every possible available surface to be littered in glowing candles. But the bathroom wasdecorated with such and Harry was overcome with an overwhelming amount of love for his girl. 

She let him take his time in there, relaxing and soothing his muscles while she cooked up some magic for his throat. Getting out of the bath, Harry most definitely does not expect to wander into the kitchen to see what he does. 

Y/N behind the stove, dishing up the soup with two fresh rolls from the bakery a mile from them. She’s got the lights dim for him — knows they’re hurting his head — and there are more candles around the living room. 

The coffee table is littered with them mostly, Netflix is up and ready on the TV and as he looks to the sofa, he notices she got out her favourite blanket — the soft one that Harry swears is made from angel wings. 

And he looks at her, starry-eyed and all. She’s got a gentle smile on her lips when she notices his presence and Harry is fucked. 

He can’t stop the rush of emotion that consumes him. His eyes turn glassy, nose tingling and heart aching. Harry reckons he’s easily the most loved man in the world and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

He can’t help the single tear that slips down his face but he wipes it before she notices. 

Harry approaches her, arms wrapping around the middle of his love and he nuzzles his face into the crook of her neck. “Thank you, for all of this. Love you so much.” He rasps into her skin. 

He can feel her body warm against his touch and she smiles, rashes down to hold her hand over his. “Love you loads, too. And you haven’t got to thank me, this is just what you do when you love someone.”

When you love someone. 

She shrugs her own words off like they’re the most obvious thing she’s ever said, but Harry can’t stop falling harder for her. 

He’s loved people before, he knows that. But now, looking back, he wonders if anyone has ever loved him before her. 

Harry doesn’t remember a time that a previous lover put him before themselves. Where they cared for him and put his needs first. Where they showered him with care and adoration just because. 

No ones ever loved him as she does. 

The tears start to pool again as he pulls away and helps her carry their bowls and drinks to the sofa. They sit close, dipping pieces of bread into the creamy soup Y/N prepared and keeping their eyes on the TV. 

Harry is struggling to focus though when Y/N takes a glance at the clock and carries their empty bowls to the kitchen. He cranes his neck across the back of the sofa to see what she’s doing, but her back is to him as she runs the sink tap and rummages through the cupboard. 

What he does see is her shuffling back to the living room with a small glass of water and a curled open palm carrying three little white tablets atop it. 

Y/N settles beside him, handing him the glass with a tired smile and offering him the pills. “They’ll help with your head and throat, hun.” She curls into the sofa, her knees to her chest and close to Harry’s side. Y/N props one arm against the back of the pillows and her fingers find the long hairs at the nape of Harry’s neck, gently craving through the soft locks. 

He watches her for a moment, completely dumbfounded and speechless if he’s honest. 

Something like Y/N taking care of him when he’s sick shouldn’t have him feeling so fucked and in love, but it does. He’s teary-eyed because his girl is taking care of him off her own back. Because she isn’t complaining once or making anything about herself. 

Because she’s loving him beyond the words of saying it. 

And he cries. 

Y/N’s stunned at the sight, thinks maybe he’s about to sneeze, but his body starts to tremble and she realises what’s going on. So, gently, she pries the glass and pills from his wanton hands and places them blindly on the coffee table before reaching back for him. 

“Hey,” she coos. 

Her hands caress the damp and flushed skin of his cheeks to bring Harry’s gaze to meet her reassuring one. “Why are you crying, H?” Her words are asked in a light and airy voice, one that isn’t serious as she chuckles softly, but he still knows she’s concerned for him. 

He shakes his head and pulls her into his side, laughing at himself too because, why is he crying? 

“Just never had anyone look after me apart from my mum before. Really fucking lucky to have you, love. No ones ever loved me like you do before.”

Her hand is sprawled across his gently heaving chest and she kisses his neck with a soft peck, offering a squeeze. His hand is brushing comfortingly up and down her arm but neither of them really know why he’s the one trying to comfort her.

Y/N swallows, reaching her right hand across her chest to find his hand that lingers over the front of her shoulder, and she interlaces their fingers, squeezing. “I wish I could show you how in love with you I am… no words can describe it.” She admits, bashfully. 

Harry squeezes her hand, using his other to wipe his face and he laughs again, because he’s so in love that it hurts. It hurts so fucking good because he knows this is it for him. She is it for him. Together against the world. Their future, their everything. 

“I know, baby. S’the same for me.”

His raw voice sends a shiver through her spine and her own eyes are watering with salty drops of emotion. It hurts her too. More so knowing nobody has ever treated him right, nobody has ever taken care of him and loved him like he’s always deserved. 

“I’m always gonna love you like this, H. Always gonna put you before me. Put us before anything else. You’re it for me, hope I’m it for you, too.”

He grins, cranes his neck to look down at her through hooded eyes. “‘Course you’re it for me. Been my future since I fucking laid eyes on ya, pet. It’s us forever, yeah?” 

She breathes, tears slipping but she nods her head. He doesn’t get the chance to stop her before she’s leaning up and smacking a kiss to his lips, eager and sweet. He doesn’t pull away either, as selfish as it is. 

Y/N reads his mind, knows what he’s thinking. “Don’t care if I get a bloody cold. You’re worth it.” 

“God, I fucking love you.”

[lydiimae]

Home.

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

18+ MDI

Based on a request you can find here <3

Warnings: angst, mentions of family member death, mentions of alcohol, arranged marriage, awful reader relationship with mother, vaginal sex, nipple play, vaginal fingering, praise, making love

A.N: Hello my loves, and hello to my lovely anon. I'm so sorry for being MIA, I had midterms and good god they almost killed me ‘︿’. Anon- I hope that this is what you wanted, I am not the most experienced in writing angst but I found this quite fun (perhaps my love of making a dramatic story lol). Thank you all for the love, as always. Mwah ≧◡≦

He did not expect you to change so much in your time away. Sure he expected you to mature in the four years you were gone, you were coming back at the new age of twenty-one. He just did not expect all of the light, the light he loved, to be gone. His Y/N had changed. She had gone from warm to cold, from happy to sad, in such a short time.

Your father and his father were close friends. Both of them being Viscounts meant that they spent a lot of time together. You, being the eldest of your family but also too young and rowdy to really click with Anthony, got on just as well with Benedict. There was always an unspoken love between the two of you that neither of you were brave enough to admit.

The only one with who you got on better than Benedict, was your father. It was apparent for anyone to see that the two of you had a unique bond. A bond that you most certainly didn't hold for your mother. She was cold and extremely cruel, your father had only married her for convenience. So, when your father died, Benedict expected you to be devastated. Who wouldn't be? He had been sick for many years before his death, a case of scarlet fever that just never went away. It was expected, but that did not mean it was less painful.

The night he passed, you showed up at his family's doorstep in tears begging for the footman to bring him down. So, after being woken up by said footman, he tugged on a robe and rushed down the stairs. He saw you and immediately knew. He rushed to you and scooped you up in his arms before taking you up into his bedroom and soothing you into sleep. Proper decorum be dammed, he stayed with you the entire night and then had a carriage bring you back home at dawn.

A week later, you, your mother, and your younger sister showed up at the Bridgerton's door dressed in all black. Violet led you all into the drawing room and gathered the rest of the Bridgertons as well, after hearing your mother mention that she would like her dear friends to be present for a big announcement, always the attention hog. Benedict was dragged in by Eloise, expecting another lecture about the upcoming social season, but his face quickly fell when he saw you.

You already looked so defeated, so tired. You looked up and forced a sad smile, moving over on the sofa so he could sit next to you. He walked towards you quickly, and sat down next in the space you made, discretely offering his hand. Your face softened, and he could tell you were holding back tears, but nevertheless, you gripped his hand tight in your own before focusing your attention on your mother.

"We are going to France, where my family lives. I feel the girls should get to know the rest of their heritage now that their father has passed on." She says bluntly, the cold look on her face never changing. His eyes widen and instantly snap over to you, internally pleading with whatever power he can think of that this is not true. That you will not be swept away before he even has the chance to try and win you over.

You are chewing on your bottom lip, the anxious habit you have had ever since you were young. You look over at him slowly, your eyes filled with unshed tears that he knows you will not let fall. That is when he knows that it is true. His Y/N is leaving. For God knows how long. To be stolen by God knows who.

You sigh as you get out of the carriage that has trapped you for the past eight hours, stretching out your limbs before taking in the scenery. That damn two-day carriage ride from the port had been nothing but exhausting. The estate you grew up in is standing tall right in front of you, and yet it is almost unrecognizable now.

It looked the same, sure, but something about it seemed a lot less colorful without your father. The impending doom of your arranged marriage hanging over your head probably didn't help that fact either. Your mother had been clear in what she wanted when you got to France, a rich man. Not for herself, but for you. Someone who could expand upon the rather large dowery your father had left you. Someone who could make her rich, your happiness be damned.

And so that is just what you found. The hunt for a suitable husband had begun a year after you arrived in Paris, your eighteenth birthday coming and going without a peep from anyone but your sister, Lucy, and a long letter from Benedict. Your grandmother was just as cruel as your mother, if not more so. She quickly introduced you to a man named Noele Beaumont, a man in high-up places in French nobility. An extremely wealthy man.

In the three and a half years you had known him, the two of you had done nothing but fight. Well, the fighting consisted entirely of him shouting at you until you were either in tears or hidden away in the closet somewhere, your chest rising and falling much too fast. It seemed that cruelty was, in some sick and twisted way, attracted to you.

Your mother, after much convincing, had allowed you and Noele to take your home in London upon marriage. That, and, she had allowed for the marriage to be held in England. You were home, finally home, and now you were realizing that it does not matter if you are home or not. The world had lost its color.

"Y/N, whatever is the matter?" Lucy piques up from beside you, taking your hand. "I miss him, Luc. That is all. I miss him and I wish that he were the one here instead of mother." You whisper, wiping an escaped tear from your eye with the back of your hand before turning to your sister. "But at least I have you, and at least we are home." She smiles sadly in response, gently leading you inside.

Your mother greeted you both with a flat expression, having insisted on traveling home a week before to make sure nothing had gone awry in the years that you had been gone. Noele and his family will join you in a month, during the week of the marriage. It seems that neither of you wish to spend more time with each other than necessary. "You have a letter already, Y/N. From one of the Bridgerton's. Do make haste of reading it, we have no time for silliness." She mutters, handing it to you before walking off with your sister.

You sigh and walk into the drawing room after handing your cloak to a maid with a smile. You look around the familiar room and breathe deeply, hoping for the comforting smell of the tea your father used to brew, but are quickly disappointed when all you smell is your mother's obnoxious perfume. You sit down on the chair by the bookshelf and open the letter.

You recognize the handwriting immediately, Benedict. He wishes to see you as soon as he can, but more importantly, he has asked you to be a model in the latest portrait he is painting for his classes at the academy. You smile softly to yourself, taking in the woodsy scent that comes off the letter, the world getting a bit brighter if only for a moment. You sigh and walk up to your bedroom, smiling at the comfort that washes over you, before sitting down and drafting a letter of your own, telling him that you will make time for him come noon tomorrow.

You run your fingers over the parchment when you have finished signing your name. So many words left unsaid. You smile sadly and fold up the letter, sealing it with the wax crest of your family before passing it to a maid with instructions to take it to the Bridgerton household before the evening comes.

Oh, how you despise your mother. After about two hours of arguing yesterday, she had finally given up and allowed you to go and see Benedict. You were used to the names she called you, 'whore' and 'harlot' being the two she most often used, but she had far stepped over the line yesterday.

She had run out of insults to call you and moved on to Benedict. Insulting his artwork, his standing in his family, his habits, anything she could grasp at she used.

"You are to be married to a nobleman in a month, Y/N! You will be tainted by that boy, he is nothing but a disgrace! His head has always been in the clouds, you know that!" She shouted from where she stood in your bedroom. You grit your teeth. "Take that back this instant, you moron! That family has done everything for us! He has done everything for me, he cares more about me than you could ever dream of!" You shouted right back.

She had gone on for at least a half-hour more, finally giving up when Lucy walked in and pleaded with the both of you to stop. "You are nothing but a whore looking for attention, Y/N. You will ruin yourself with him. You will, and I will not help you out of the hole you dig yourself into." Your mother huffed, before turning and walking out of your bedroom.

Your sister had stayed with you last night. You had fallen asleep in her embrace, nothing but a mess of sobs. You wished for nothing more than to go to him right now and run away to the countryside, and leave all of it behind. But you had a duty, you had to look out for Lucy's happiness so she would not be doomed to the life that you are now forced to live.

You had woken up in the early morning, your lady's maid helping you into a dark blue dress before leaving you to your own devices. You spent the hours up until eleven reading and avoiding your mother like the plague. You walked downstairs once it was time to leave for the Bridgerton estate.

A short carriage ride later and there you are, in the same position that you were four and a half years ago, knocking on his door with tears in your eyes. You had become emotional about five minutes out, overcome with the joy of finally seeing him. Finally being able to speak to him, rather than imagining what his voice sounded like when you read his letters. You had missed the feeling of home when you were around him, you had missed how the world looked when he was in it. You had missed him.

He had been unable to sleep once he had written your letter, and unable to do anything but read in the drawing room in the hours before your arrival. He was sitting on pins and needles, waiting for the familiar sound of a knock on the front door to come so he could rush to it before any of the servants. He wanted your welcome home to be comforting, as he had known how much you had been through in France.

When he had gotten the letter explaining the marriage you had been dragged into he locked himself in his studio for weeks on end, being unreachable to anyone, even Eloise. He had spent the first two laying on the chaise, looking up at the ceiling with an unstoppable rush of tears slipping down his cheeks which only stopped when he fell into a restless sleep.

The tears turned to anger, which he let out through pages upon pages of poetry. Confessing his love, damming his foolishness or lack of words, berating himself into oblivion for why could he be so stupid as to not tell you to wait for him? To hold onto hope that he would save you?

Then the weeks of anger turned to inspiration, hours spent drowning his sadness with art. Countless paintings of you, of your favorite flowers, of the hill the both of you held so many memories upon, anything that could get him out of the depression he had been sucked into. It was the point that he was at now, a melancholic feeling lingering over his head that he refuses to let himself feel.

The knock comes right when the clock strikes twelve and he practically throws his book to the side, rushing to the door and throwing it open. You are finally home.

The tears start before you can stop them and he quickly tugs you inside, closing the door before wrapping his arms around you. You bury your face into the crook of his neck, and finally, after months of not allowing yourself to cry, you sob. You sob hard, a million pent-up emotions releasing like the snap of a string in your chest.

You look up at him through your teary eyes and smile. "I have missed you dearly, Benedict." You whisper a hidden meaning you hope he can uncover buried beneath your words. He flashes that silly crooked smile you have come to adore before ruffling your hair. "I have missed you too, Y/N. You will never know how much I missed you." He says, wiping your tears before taking a step back.

"You have grown up. You look so... mature." He comments, almost as if he is trying to figure out something about you. Something that even you cannot decipher. You smile in return. "You have as well. I believe I have the right to call you an old man now." You hum, beginning down the hall to where you know the room he has painted in his entire life is.

He chuckles from behind you, before following. "I am but eight and twenty." He whines playfully and you laugh. "That is two years away from thirty, and if Anthony is old then so are you." You opine, looking back over your shoulder at him before stopping in front of his studio's door. He grins and nudges your shoulder before opening the door for you.

You marvel at the surrounding room when you walk in. You knew that he was a good artist, it came naturally to him, but he had improved in your time away. You walk into the center of the room, walking in a slow circle to take in all of his works which line the walls and stack up upon the floor. Most are of women in various states of dress, ever the lady's man Benedict Bridgerton.

You are glad that some things do not change, but it also makes a strange feeling of longing bubble up in your chest. You wish to be naked like the women in the paintings, talking and flirting with him for hours on end. Making love to him when the heat of the room becomes too much. You wish to wake up to him beside you in the morning, for every morning for the rest of time.

You shake the feeling off and look over at him, noticing that he has already taken his place behind the easel. It looks as if he has already started his sketch. "It is gorgeous in here, Ben. You are the most talented artist in all of England." You say, a look of pure adoration in your eyes that he immediately picks up on.

You wish to die with nothing but the image of that sweet pink color that overtakes his cheeks to remember. He quickly turns his attention to his canvas and nods slightly, clearing his throat. "And you are the best flatterer in all of England. Thank you Y/N." He says quietly. When you begin to turn to face him fully he holds up his hand. "I quite liked the position you were in when you were looking over your shoulder. If it is not too uncomfortable, might you hold it? You had the most beautiful look in your eye." He says kindly, looking up to meet your eyes.

It's your turn to blush at both his kindness and his way of complimenting you. He had always said these types of things in passing, not realizing how much they affected you. You nod and take your original place in the room making him smile. "Perfect, as always." He whispers to himself before returning to the sketch.

After about an hour and a half, your legs grow tired. "Benedict, might we take a break? My legs are getting achy." You say, and he meets your eyes. "Of course, I shall have the maids bring us some tea and you can tell me more about your time in France." He says, gesturing with his arm for you to sit on the chaise that sits by the window.

You do so gladly, taking in the image of him wiping his hands of charcoal. You blush at the thought of the feeling of those hands around your waist, or cupping your cheeks. God, this is torture. You wait for him to come back, which only takes a moment.

He sits down next to you and offers his hand. You look down at it and smile softly, taking it in your own just like you used to. What happens next, you could have never predicted in a million years. He lifts your gloved hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it. Your eyes widen and you open your mouth to speak, but you are quickly cut off by him slowly kissing up your arm.

"Benedict stop." You whisper in a tone that is a far cry away from the authority you wished for that statement to have. He doesn't, he presses kisses to your elbow, continuing to work up your arm. "Benedict, I am serious we mustn't." You say, a bit firmer as tears gather in your eyes, but he still does not relent. "Benedict!" You shout, ripping your arm away and standing up.

"Oh please." He scoffs. "Do not tell me you did not wish for me to do just that." He says, standing up with you and stepping close. "Have you gone utterly mad?! I am to be married by the end of the month!" You shout in return. You wish for nothing more than for him to continue but he cannot. You have a man to marry, a sister to set free. Nothing can come between that.

"You do not love him! You have told me those words exactly!" He shouts back and you shake your head, beginning to walk out of the room. You get all of two feet away before he grabs your arm, pulling you to his chest. He leans down, his breath ghosting over your ear. "I have loved you since we were children, Y/N." Your heart shatters when he whispers the word love in your ear.

"You cannot do this now." You say, trying to tug out of his grasp but he keeps his hold tight. "I have to say it now, I have been a fool. I have kept my mouth shut for far too long, but I can save you. I can take you far away from this place, I-" He starts, but you are quick to cut in.

"How could you possibly save me, Benedict?!" You shout, finally getting away. You turn around and look at him dead in the eye, your eyes beginning to water. "By running away?! We cannot! My sister will be left to deal with that woman all by herself and then my fate will be hers! I cannot let that happen!" You shout, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"I left and came back married and suddenly you gain the confidence to say this now?! It is far too late!" You sob. His face softens and he brings you into a tight embrace, one hand at the back of your head while the other runs up and down your back. "You are too late. Why did you wait?" You sob into his chest and he says nothing, allowing you to cry.

He places his chin on the top of your head as he rubs your back, rocking you from side to side. "You must think of yourself, Y/N. Your happiness. Your father left you his money for a reason, you know that." He whispers after a few minutes of listening to your sobs. You look up at him and he cups your cheek with the hand that was on your head. "Your mother, however terrifying she may be, does not hold the power over you she once did. Your father made sure of that." He continues.

"You own the estate, you have the money, and you can make your own decisions. You just need to tell her, you must be brave." He whispers as your crying calms. "But what if she... what if she does something to Lucy-" "She will not. She will not have the power to." He interrupts.

Lucy is capable, you know that much is true. You also know that he is right, you have the money and the house, and therefore you have the power. A final gift from your father that you were too scared to realize. You look up at him and before you can think twice about it, you press your lips to his.

He smiles into the kiss and pulls back after a moment, pressing his forehead to yours. "You are a fool, Benedict Bridgerton." You whisper, taking a deep breath. He chuckles. "Perhaps, but I am also a fool who wishes for nothing more than to marry you." He says and you smile. "I shall do what you suggest, what my father meant for me to do." You whisper and he nods. "And I will be right there with you." He murmurs before kissing you again.

After an hour of warm tea and affectionate words, he takes you back to your estate. You go back and forth with your mother for an hour, trying to be kind, but it is when she starts the insults that you snap. You threaten to sell the house in France and never speak to her ever again, let alone give her any money, and she quickly shuts up.

You write Noele and the engagement is called off within the week. For once you thank the man's hatred of you, for it made him all too eager to get away. The engagement between you and Benedict is announced the next week, and the wedding is planned for two months in advance. The ton gossips about the timeline, of course, but the two of you pay no mind. You have both waited far too long to get married, why wait even longer?

You lie restless in bed the week before your marriage, your thoughts filled with nothing but him. The kiss you shared when he confessed running through your mind, sending tingles between your legs. The hot feeling that overcomes your body makes you want to do the things you saw men and women do in the paintings that lined the walls of your favorite salon in Paris.

Sex. You knew what it was, anyone who spent more than five seconds in Paris knew what it was. You had fantasized about it before, only ever with Benedict. You wanted his hard cock buried deep inside of you for hours on end, you wanted his head between your thighs, your lips around his length. You wanted all of it, yet he had insisted on waiting until your wedding night.

You sigh, tugging on the silk sheets and rubbing your thighs together to try and ease the dull ache that settled in your core, whining in frustration when the feeling did not go away. You hear the tapping on your window, almost as if it was hailing in the middle of May.

You stand and walk to the large window that leads out to a view of the garden. A pebble hits the glass and you jump, placing a hand over your now racing heart, and look down at the garden. You grin when you find your fiance looking up at you with the crooked grin that has such a hold on your heart. You open the window and lean out.

"What on earth are you doing down there?" You laugh, leaning your elbows on the window and placing your chin on your hand. "You are meant to say something about Romeo." He calls back, his grin only widening as you giggle more. "I shall not. You must answer my question." You smile.

"You are no fun." He groans, dropping the pebbles on the ground. "I wished to see you. I have been nothing but restless tonight and I thought I would spend that restlessness with you. Might I come up?" He calls, already beginning to climb the lattice that lines the estate walls. You nod, even though he did not wait. "I am quite restless as well." You sigh, watching him climb. "You do not need to sneak, mother is already back in France and Lucy cares not of what we do." You hum as he climbs through the window.

He wraps his arms around you and picks you up. "It is more romantic to sneak through the window." He murmurs in your ear as you wrap your legs around his waist. "It was very romantic, I promise you." You whisper as he lays you back on the bed, stripping down to his trousers before sliding into bed with you and pulling the covers up over the both of you.

He nuzzles your neck and places his hands on your hips, pulling you close. It's quite an innocent gesture, but it sends that tingle you were experiencing earlier to your core. Arousal begins to dampen your panties and you press yourself against him, silently asking for more.

He smirks against your skin when you rub up against him. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to your neck before leaning back to look at you. "It seems you were restless for the same reason as I was, love." He teases, which makes you blush. He chuckles and cups your cheek, running his thumb along your cheekbone. "Might I request something of you?" He whispers.

"Of course." You return, leaning into his touch and closing your eyes. "I wish to make love to you, now. I cannot wait one more second, and I most certainly cannot wait until our wedding night" He whispers in your ear, kissing the skin below it.

He makes a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, making you moan softly in response. "Please." Is all you can manage as he bites down on the skin of your shoulder, making sure to leave a mark. He grins and pulls back, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You return it eagerly, wrapping your arms around his neck. This time, a moan slips past his lips and his hands tighten around your hips.

He moves his hands down your legs, slipping them under your nightgown and cupping your breasts. You whine and break the kiss, pressing your forehead to his as you pant. He watches the look in your eye as his thumbs swipe over your hardened nipples, making your mouth fall open. He groans at the guttural moan that escapes you before taking his hands away and throwing back the covers.

"Benedict please." You breathe, grasping at his arms. He grins but shakes his head. "Patience my love. It will feel so much better if I tease you." He opines, unbuttoning his britches. You gasp when they come off, leaving him in nothing. His cock stands proud against his stomach, it is big and thick, much bigger than you imagined. You grow antsy with the fear that it will not fit inside.

He senses your apprehension and bends down, peppering your face with kisses. "Worry not, dearest, you need only to tell me to stop or to wait and I shall." He whispers, patting your hips as a signal to sit up, which you do. "I will get you plenty warmed up for me, I promise." He breathes against your skin, making you shiver.

He lifts your nightgown up and over your head, throwing it to where the rest of his clothes lay against the floor. He groans at the sight of you in nothing but your panties, his cock twitching with delight. He unties the ribbons that hold your underwear up on your hips, throwing them across the room before capturing your peaked nipple in his mouth.

Your head shoots back and you cry out, laying back on the bed. He follows, situating himself on top of you without releasing your nipple. His tongue swirls around the hardened bud as his other hand cups your other breast, his thumb and pointer finger tweaking your nipple.

Arousal drips down your thighs as you cant your hips up, desperate for more. He growls when the soft skin of your stomach meets his already weeping cock. He pulls back from your nipple, moving the hand that is not occupied with your breast down to your hips. He presses down on your hip bone and you whine when you realize you have lost your ability to brush against him.

"You are doing so well, darling. You mustn't move, it is making me want to bury my cock inside you right now and fuck you until you see stars." You moan at the thought, wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him into another kiss. He grins against your mouth, letting you kiss him for a moment before pulling away and moving his hand off of your breast.

He moves that hand down to your hips, pressing down with just as much force as the other did. The one that was on your hips moves to your breast just as he takes your nipple into your mouth, giving your breasts the same treatment as before.

You are a moaning mess beneath him, your thighs and cunt soaked with your arousal as sweat drips down your neck. "Please, Ben... Need more. I... more." You whine, tugging on his hair. He lifts his head and smiles, making your heart flutter. He can go from a growling, groaning man to a loving partner in just seconds. It's intoxicating.

"Tell me where you need it, sweet girl." He whispers, kissing down your stomach and stopping just above your pubic hair, inhaling almost lewdly with a groan. You whine and your cheeks turn rosy with embarrassment.

"Between my legs..." You whisper, pressing your face into the pillow as the embarrassment of wanting him so much washes over you. He pats your thigh gently, making you look down at him. "Louder. Do not be ashamed. I want it just as much as you do." He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your abdomen.

You smile softly, warmth blooming in your chest. You sigh and let out a breathy moan as he sucks on the skin just above where you wish he would. "I want you between my legs, Benedict. Please. I.. have thought of nothing else for nights." You beg, loudly now as his kisses turn sloppy.

He groans at the thought of you laying in bed, unable to sleep because of the thought of him fucking you, of him pleasing you with his fingers or your tongue, with your hand between your legs. Rubbing at your swollen clit until you come calling his name. He wishes for nothing else than to watch.

He runs his fingers through your soaked folds, the both of you moaning in unison. He rubs his nose through your patch of hair before pressing his tongue against your engorged clit, sucking and swirling as he pushes one of his long fingers into your body, making you cry out.

You silently thank God that Lucy insisted on sleeping in the room downstairs, as now you do not have to silence the steady stream of moans that slip from your lips as he sucks and fingers you into a headspace you have never been to.

You clench around his fingers as he slips another one into your tight hold, his tongue still swirling around your clit. Your hand shoots down to grab at his hair when he starts thrusting and curling his fingers into your body, the other grasping the silk sheets that rest across your bed.

You scream his name when his fingers find a spongey spot inside you that sends a bolt of pleasure right to your already abused clit, and you see stars. You gush down your thighs and his chin, and he pulls out his fingers. He peeks up from below, wiping his face with the back of his hand before sucking your juices from his fingers.

The sight sends you back into a state of arousal so strong that all you can think about is his big cock ripping you open as he fills you to the hilt. He grins when he sees the look in your eye, coming back up so he can give you another open-mouthed kiss. You wrap your legs around his waist and he moans deeply, an almost feral noise coming from somewhere deep inside him.

He breaks the kiss and presses his forehead to yours once more, kissing your nose. "Can I?" He gusts, his breath hot against your skin. "Please." You whisper back, taking one of his hands in yours, the other resting upon his shoulder.

That is all the incentive he needs, he slowly pushes into your body, groaning loudly at how tight you are. You cry out, your nails digging into the skin of his shoulder. He bottoms out and moves his forehead to rest on your shoulder, waiting for you to adjust. God he's so close already, the thought of being the first and only one to take you enough to make him come, but he holds back.

After a moment he looks up at you and you nod, needing him to fuck you hard. That is just what he does. He sets a brutal pace, his thighs meeting yours as your ankles rest on his hips. You cry out and squeeze his hand as his tip nudges the same spot his fingers do, making you clench.

"Fuck." He grunts, picking up the pace as he chases his release. He pounds into you now, making you nothing but a moaning piece of putty ready to be molded by his hands. "Benedict- Again.. I'm going to..." You whine and he nods, pressing his lips to yours as his thumb finds your clit.

Your back arches as you reach your peak once more, dragging your nails down his back and leaving angry red marks on his skin. That is what sends him over the edge, spilling his seed deep inside of you before collapsing on top of you.

After a moment he pulls out and rolls onto his back, catching his breath before standing up and walking to the bathroom, leaving you on the bed to do the same. You rest your arms over your eyes as your breathing calms. He comes back with a washcloth and cleans up the mess he made before snuggling up to you in bed.

You flip onto your side and snuggle up to him, his arms encircling your body immediately. He presses a kiss to your forehead and traces the ridges of your spine with his fingers. "I love you." You whisper, already half asleep.

He smiles at the sight of you drowsy and flushed, his hand coming up to stroke your hair. "And I love you, my heart." He whispers back, closing his eyes and quickly following you into slumber.

Oh, what a joy it is to finally feel at home.

[jurijyuu]

I wanna take a ride on your radio stick (Alastor x Reader)

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

AlastorxReader Smut

Summary: Being sick sucks ass. Unfortunately, your boyfriend is the Radio Demon who’s too busy to keep an eye on you as you recover. As you sleep through your cold, your boyfriend leaves you his mic to keep in touch in case you need help.

Note: No, you do not use his mic as a dildo. That's Vox's kink.

What's in Store: Gender-Neutral Reader, Masturbation, Dry Humping, Established relationship, Male Masturbation, Alastor discovers ASMR

Your POV

When you woke up delirious and exhausted one day, your boyfriend practically panicked. It was odd to see him fret, so unsure and unsettled over a cold. It’s not like dying from illness in Hell would be permanent either so his frittering about was completely uncalled for.

Darling, have some soup. Darling, drink some water. Darling, I brought some medicine. Between your fuzzy senses and bleary awareness throughout the last couple of days, these moments of attention and care piled up into memory. Ah, but he really was sweet even when his worry was unnecessary. When you were better, you would pay him back.

That said, for the first time in days, you felt somewhat clear headed, the fog of sleep no longer clinging to you in moments of consciousness. You tried to remember how long you’d been out. Three days? Four? Alastor would know but the deer man wasn’t here. Weakly, you searched for his presence. The house was silent except for the sounds of the bayou where your shared home stood, no footsteps on creaking floorboards or humming as he went about his routine. You did, however, sense his power. It was faint compared to what he exuded but it was there, not too far from you. Turning to the side, you found his staff leaning neatly on the nightstand.

Right. He had business to attend to at the hotel. You vaguely remember him telling you that earlier along with how he’d leave his microphone here just in case you needed to contact him. Why he refused to get even just a pager, you really didn’t understand. But you weren’t complaining right now. The faint trace of his magic from the microphone was comforting in the absence of the man himself.

Sluggishly, you crawled to the edge of the bed and reached for the staff to bring into bed with you.

“Al?” You called weakly hoping to hear your boyfriend’s voice but only received silence as a response. So he was too busy. Unfortunate, though it’s probably for the best as you only wanted to hear him and that wasn’t a good enough reason to interrupt his work.

Still…

Closing your eyes, a few memories flitted through your mind. A calming hand, and sweet murmurs asking if you were feeling better, what did you need? Your lover had always been good at caring for you but it was never with quite the amount of tenderness your faint memories provided. He’d sounded so unbelievably sweet that you regretted not being able to see him through most of it, fighting for consciousness as you were. Your heart clenched and stuttered thinking of your tall menace of a gentleman actually being a gentle man.

It could have been your fever or just your imagination trying to fill in the blanks of what face your usually chipper lover looked like as he cared for you but you felt flush as you laid in bed. Alastor…

He usually grinned a toothy smile meant to intimidate or fool anyone into thinking he was always having a jolly good time. But on occasion, you’d caught him with a small one, eyes half-lidded, lost in a soft sweet song from yesteryear, oblivious to the world. Sometimes those eyes would be looking at you, something electric lighting them up when you looked back at him.

Had he looked at you with that tired and lazy stare? Waiting patiently for you to get better as he took care of all your needs from changing your clothes to even bathing your body.

Heat pulsed down your body to between your legs. That wasn’t the fever. 

With a groan you turned to your side, the faint wave of arousal heating you up as it passed through you. Should you? Shouldn’t you? If you waited long enough, it would go away on its own. But then again, this was a rare opportunity to help yourself since Alastor was out and left you alone for once. 

Your throat felt dry as the arousal continued its slow but blaring spike. Ahh fuck it. You blamed your still feverish mind for giving in to quick relief.

Reaching into your pants, you fondled your sex through your underwear, gentle and slow, almost shy. When Alastor touched you, it was always urgent and demanding, his dominant personality on full display even as he was servicing your body. But what you wanted right now was that soft Alastor.

One faint memory in particular came to mind. Your body had been burning hotter than it was right now.

“Oh dear. You’re sweating so much, darling. Let me wipe you down.”

His ungloved hand reached out to help you sit up against the headboard, careful not to jolt you too harshly. There was a faint sloshing of water. With your eyes still sleepy, you didn’t see him but he must’ve rolled his sleeves up, coat put away somewhere since he was home.

“Easy there. Let me take off your shirt, sweetheart.”

Your heartbeat picked up as you remembered the faint brushes of his fingers as he unbuttoned your sleepwear. With your free hand, you imitated your imaginary lover. Those long fingers peppered little touches on your chest, on your sternum and down your belly, another wave of heat following their path down but never quite reaching where you’d wanted them to go. He was always a tease.

Your breath hitched as you imagined him looking at your bare chest, one strong hand firmly keeping you in place against the headboard as the other went to grab a washcloth. Did he rub little circles on your clavicle with his thumb while he was at it? You’d like to think he did as you replicated his motions, rubbing your thumb in light circles over your sex.

This soft Alastor didn’t speak much, not wanting to disturb your rest more than he already was. Instead, he crooned a soft melody, keeping you teetering in limbo between wakefulness and sleep as your body grew hotter. 

A cold cloth passed over your shoulder causing you to keen, your nipples hardening in response to the imaginary chill, something your lover probably noticed. With firm yet gentle strokes, he patted the wet cloth against your sweaty body, each touch so gentle that it stoked a fire in your belly. Every time the cloth was washed, wrung and brought back to your body, you hissed, the cool sensation a stark contrast against your heated skin and heated core.

“Almost done, sweetheart.”

He was talking in a lower tone, almost whispering, voice turning the slightest bit gravelly. This was supposed to cool you down so why was it getting you hotter? And did he notice that the flush creeping up your chest had nothing to do with your cold? 

Finally, he’d finished wiping your back and arms, tossing the washcloth into the basin with a loud splash.

In reality, he’d dressed you up in a new shirt and you went back to sleep but not this imaginary deer man.

“Oh darling, you still look so flushed.”

Clawed hands gently cupped your heated cheeks, their coolness shooting straight to your aroused sex in a way that was a little embarrassing given that your man was only trying to clean you up. And even with your eyes closed, you knew he noticed, his stare feeling electric on your exposed skin.

“Oh I might have missed a spot.”

There was a light teasing in his voice, only masked by the rough murmur it had turned to. You heard the water slosh again. A cold and slightly rough sensation brushed against your erect nipple. You moaned in shocked pleasure as it jolted lighting through your body. A similarly shocked gasp came from your imaginary Alastor, a light break in his static as his hand lightly clenched.

You felt boneless as his other hand guided you to lay back down as he cooed softly. 

“Your fever is back up, darling. Let me try to cool you down.”

The washcloth rubbed lightly against your other nipple and your stomach clenched. It felt so good. He kept at it, playing with one or the other until you were a writhing mess. You tried to open your eyes but they were too heavy. 

“Shhh sweetheart. Let me take care of you.” 

One claw tip, razor sharp, lightly flicked your nipple, rubbing on it just a bit before tracing a line down your navel, down your bellybutton and stopping just at the waistband of your pajamas before ghosting over your sex.

He said nothing but the sound of his chuckles transformed that sweet face into his usual smug one. Arrogant prick. He was planning to tease you til you begged, wasn’t he? You were almost tempted to let him play with you until you got to that point. A wicked smile stretched in his face.

“Don’t tease me, Al.”

“Tease you, dear? I’m just trying to clean you up. Sit up so I can put a new shirt on you.”

You wanted to wipe that smug smile off his face. Fueled by arousal and spite, you imagined pulling the deer man into bed with you, tossing him over until you had him under you. You imagined straddling his skinny waist and letting him feel the results of his ‘cleaning up.’ With your hand still cupping your heated sex, you ground down on it only to gasp when something cool bumped into the back of your hand.

Breaking away from your fantasy, you spot Alastor’s staff under you, faintly buzzing with your lover’s magic. Again, you blamed it on your fever but having something of his right there as you imagined topping your arrogant radio man was too delicious to resist.

Taking your hand away from your sex, you positioned the length of the staff to align with your core and then lowered yourself down. The cold metal glided against your sex as you rubbed yourself on it. It was too thin but if you closed your eyes, you could imagine that you were holding your skinny deer man, rubbing yourself against his equally hard cock.

Fuck. It shouldn’t feel so good but it did. You swung your hips a bit to feel more of that length, the harsh metal rubbing at just the right places to send pleasure up and down your spine. The fantasy in your head shattered as something else replaced it. 

You held onto the microphone tighter, pulling it closer to you as you imagined your Alastor walking in on this display. Coming in from a hard day’s work only to find you so desperately chasing release against his microphone. Could he hear the sounds you were making?

A moan escaped your lips. He would be so stunned. He didn’t know that you were this horny. He was always so proper and only recently accepted intimate contact. How could you tell him that you just wanted to rub yourself all over him? Feel the hard planes of his body against your skin. Push him down and ride his cock until he was a mess of screams and broken radio static. He was so sensitive, so new to sex. You wanted to ruin him for anyone else.

He’d never let you be on top though, too busy wanting to fuck you into the mattress. Gods, he was rough. He’d thrust with all his lithe body, wringing screams of want and desperate pleasure from you until you skull banged against the headboard. Then he’d kiss you to pin you in place. 

Of course you wanted to do the same to him so why not start with this part of him? The mic had a capped bottom, giving you a lovely ridge to play with. Pushing the staff under you, you desperately humped against that ridge, delicious friction sending unimaginable thrills up your spine and all the way to your head until it was empty except for that pleasure.

“Alastor.” 

The microphone head pressed into your chest, its ridges lightly rubbing against your skin and your nipples with each roll of your hips, shooting little jolts of ticklish pleasure through you. Ohh it felt so good. You gasped and moaned as you reached higher and higher peaks. Could Alastor hear what you were doing? The thing was always on so he probably could. Was he listening to you fuck yourself against his mic while sitting in a meeting, unable to leave? Were your cries throwing off his focus? Was he itching to come back home to you and see exactly what you were doing?

“Allll—“

Could he feel your heated sex as you pressed it against the length of his staff? The thing was a part of him after all. If so, how was he feeling right now? Scandalized? Aroused? Horrified? If he were here, would he push you away or take his microphone’s place? Either way, his clawed hand would have to grab you by your hips as you continued to gyrate against his staff. The ghostly sensations of his hands on you fueling the fire coursing through your veins. Fuck! You were so close. 

You pinched your nipple as you ground down hard, your fingers joining the staff in teasing your sensitive sex, the pleasure building up until you tipped over the edge.

“Al! I—I’m coming!” You moaned into the microphone, wanting your lover to hear your pleasured cries, all cares gone with the wind as you rode your high into unconsciousness.

Alastor's POV

A meeting with the Princess of Hell was the last thing on his mind right now. A sick lover awaited him at home, needing to be cared for, but he was forced to come to this useless meeting instead. So very unfortunate. Given, the recent announcement of the new extermination timeline was a huge concern for the girl but that was honestly not his problem to worry about so long as the hotel and his business partner remained unscathed.

Needless to say, the princess was determined to ‘speed up’ what progress she could on getting their two guests to achieve redemption.

“Volunteer work idea! We can do volunteer work as part of our redemption path. Doing good deeds is part of being a good person, right? Well, we should help out some of the sinners in the territorial war districts.” Charlie raised up one of her hand drawn illustrations showing what he assumed to be the said territorial war zone. It depicted the hotel crew helping clean and bandage the wounded and helpless.

All so very trivial given those souls would respawn in time unless they were faced with Carmine weaponry. In that case, and in all cases really, those souls should have known what they were getting themselves into when battling for territory. He’d thought of a hundred ways the princess’ idea could go wrong and was about to suggest them when he heard a familiar voice ringing through his mind. He picked up the signal from his microphone.

“Al?” Voice hoarse from disuse, his little darling called out to him once you had woken up. How he wished he could come to your side right at that moment. The few times you had been coherent during this whole ordeal had been far too few and short. A hellish flu was so uncommon and there had been no ways to heal from it other than to wait it out. 

He reevaluated what he needed to do. On one hand, he could be helpful and plan this whole redemption exercise for Charlie to ensure no trouble occurred. However, the princess took a very hands-on approach to things. Bringing up any problems would only prolong the meeting…He sighed internally. What to do?

With half an ear to the chattering princess, he focused the other half of his attention to whatever sounds his microphone could pick up. If anything alarming was transmitted, he was ready to shadow home as quickly as possible.

“…We can implement a buddy system. It’s a little dangerous to just go alone and…” Ah. For once, the princess recognized a flaw in her plan before he even had to mention it. Wonderful. She was learning to be a bet—

“Ah…oh..”

Any admiration he might have had for the princess’ awareness of the dangers her plan posed was halted by a breathy moan in his mind’s ear. Had you gotten hurt trying to move around? From how delirious you had been prior, he could imagine you falling off the bed trying to look for him or care for yourself. But he hadn't heard any noises indicating an accident.

Immediately, all his focus moved to his microphone, magick at the ready to bring him back. Charlie’s plans would have to wait. He was about to apologize to the princess and leave when another sound, a soft sigh of pleasure entered his mind.

What?

It was soft, so very soft, but your rhythmic breathing was steadily increasing in pace, dotted with little sighs and shy moans. He knew those sounds all too familiarly, aimed to bring them out as he played with your body most evenings. Surely…it wasn’t what he thought it was? 

A high keening sound, muffled slightly and marred by the transmission’s static pierced his mind and smothered any doubt he had about exactly what he was hearing. 

The sound of your whines rang in his ear, reverberating through his head like a dinner bell and awakening a hunger he’d only ever felt with you. Sinful little thing. You had to know that he could hear you with his microphone so close to you. You were doing this on purpose! His static crackled as your noises picked up.

Your muffled cries increased in volume and urgency as he could now hear the subtle rustling of bedsheets moving with you. Whatever fantasy had brought you to touch yourself, you were currently lost in.

He twitched as tendrils of arousal slithered their way into his veins. His wicked lover was casting a siren call, delirious, weak, deliciously vulnerable and obviously asking to be fucked. 

He took a slow breath to cool the heat starting to rise in his body. Why did you start this now, of all times? He’d been with you for days before this! Your timing was terrible. Or maybe you had planned this, wanting him to come rushing to you as soon as possible. His teeth clenched in his smile.

Why was it that the first thing you did when you finally had the energy was to crave sexual fulfillment? To pleasure yourself when he wouldn’t be there to assist you? 

It was debased and primitive of you. He wasn’t sure whether to be irritated by your lewd behavior or proud. But he did know that your little act was stirring things south of where was appropriate in front of the princess and her girlfriend. Keeping a neutral expression on his face, he shifted slightly where he stood by the princess’ desk. He needed to get them out.

In a bid to keep his composure, he played a little jig from his chest, something light and cheerful, a complete and total clash to the heat building below his belly. If he waited just a bit more…but Charlie looked ready to burst into song. He couldn’t have that.

“An excellent idea!” He chimed, cutting off whatever Charlie was saying. Both women turned to him, one in pleasant surprise and the other curious.

“Really?” Charlie sparkled at his half-serious agreement, throwing beams of sunshine from her eyes that only served to irritate him further. The heat running up and down his body made him even more impatient with the princess’ inane suggestions. 

“Yes. Why don’t you scout out the perfect area for us to do this little venture. Have to ensure the safety of our guests, after all.” Before the women could get their bearings together, he was already gently pushing Charlie out the door, with her tail of a lover sure to follow. “Make a day trip of it, even. I’m sure there’s lots to see.”

“H..hnnnggh..!” 

His smile almost cracked at the delicious whine that poured from your darling mouth. He wished he could be there to drink it up right at that moment. But composure. Composure. Disguising the sense of urgency pumping through his system with enthusiastic chatter about casualty statistics and needing to ensure they didn’t overstep into Overlord territories, he managed to get the two women out of the shared office space in record time. 

“Have fun now, you two.” He waved them off, their faces a little bewildered but they didn’t really have much of a choice after he’d closed the door on their faces.

The door rattled in his haste but he managed to lock it quickly. He once again tried to summon his magick to bring him away when a croon reverberated through his chest.

“Alastorrrr…”

His breath caught. 

Static ran up his spine to the roll of those pleasured r’s. He’d never admit to how his knees buckled at the sound, a unique quality he could only attribute to his darling. But it was different somehow. A wicked idea popped into his mind, the static filter in his love’s voice adding a certain flavor he’d never associated with sex before.

Making sure to seal the room so that not even a speck of dust could get in or out, he sat down on his chair. With a flick of his wrist, he transferred the transmission from his mind to the radio sitting at his desk. From there, your voice played.

“Don’t tease me, Al.” 

“Oh but aren’t you doing the teasing here, darling?” He smiled deviously, imagining your face as he said so. You wouldn’t have heard him muse back. For what he had in mind, he’d made it a one-way broadcast purposefully.

Another sigh escaped your lips sending heat down to his already aching member. With deft hands, he unbuckled his belt, slowly easing himself out of his slacks. The hair of his navel stood on end at the rush of cold air hitting the sensitive skin. His cock stood ready and weeping from just the sounds of your debauchery. It was truly pathetic but you had that effect on him. He palmed himself briefly, imagining it was your hands taking him out of his clothes. Shy and careful. You were always very gentle with him. And it drove him mad with want.

Grabbing his cock, he started to stroke, slow at first, getting a bit faster as more of his precum leaked out. From the radio, he heard rustling. He could picture it then, your skin gliding in the sheets of your bed, a thin layer of sweat giving your flushed face a delectable shine. You writhed with want, unfulfilled and calling for him. Your labored breathing sounded lovely and lewdly through the radio.

He groaned, eyes closed as he pictured being there with you as you crawled over to him, hands greedy to stroke his member. The sheets rustled as they tugged at your knees, too eager to disentangle yourself from the blankets. Your hands delicately wrapped around his cock, face aglow as you admired it. You looked so ready to take it into your little mouth.

He hissed and stroked, slower this time to match his image of you. He licked his lips as his breathing quickened.

He’d never understood the appeal of listening to such filthy broadcasts. Saw it as a distasteful use of air time that could have been used for news, jazz or something else. He’d tried it once and could only grimace at the theatrical moaning of the actors at the station. The storylines were ridiculously shallow too.

But with you on the other side, a broadcast exclusive for his ears only…He shuddered, ears twitching to catch the lightest of sounds for his mind to work into fantasy. His hips thrust up into his hand, presenting you with a prize you so very much wanted. Naughty little thing.

The broadcast buzzed sharply, sending a jolt through his chest in shock. Something had hit the microphone. For a moment, his heart stopped, thinking that you did end up over extending yourself and collapsed. But just as quickly, a new sensation started.

“Fuck!”

His free hand rushed to gripped the armrest of his chair tightly. It was the only way he could channel the sudden rush that overtook his body, lest the hand squeezing his cock tighten too much. Something hot and moist pressed against his extension and he nearly choked at the sudden pressure.

He could feel it! A silky glide. He could feel you, your hot sex rubbing up and down against the shaft of his staff, his mind directing that sensation to his crotch. A shiver ran up his spine, the ghost sensations of your hands trailing along his staff being mirrored onto his body. 

“Fuck.” 

A similar curse whispered huskily through the radio. So he wasn’t the only one feeling sensitive. You moaned as he felt the corresponding brush of your sex against his staff, against him. Sweat collected on his brow as his body grew hotter in response. It was as if you were there with him.

“Ah—Alastor!”

“Yes, darling? Come and rut yourself on me. Let me feel you.” His free hand traced up his chest, claws mimicking the way you would slowly and intentionally trail your fingers up his body when you were being intimate. Tugging at his shirt teasingly, your hands lightly splayed against his chest. He arched his back into the touch. You knew how much he liked your touch. Always tracing lines along his shoulders, counting his ribs. 

“Oh..” He groaned, hand moving faster along his cock as you found a steady rhythm to pleasure yourself to. He could feel the ghostly heat and slick of your fluids starting to smear and make a mess of his microphone. His thumb brushed the weeping red tip, paying close attention to smear his precum, imagining it was yours starting to coat his cock.

“Hmnngh. Al—feels good.”

“Does it, darling? Hn. You’re making a mess. I’ll have you clean that up, you know.” As if you could hear him, another pathetic whine squeaked through his radio feed. His static broke at the sound. “Yes. You’ll have to take responsibility for making it so filthy.”

He could feel his extension get crushed between your body and the mattress, your body heat getting relayed onto his own. You were so desperate to bed him, keening and moaning sloppily to a fantasy him of your own design. He did the same. His mental image of you bent down, face close to his cock, breath brushing teasingly over the sensitive tip, waiting for his command. He smirked through the buzz that ran through his body at the pathetic sight, concentration going blurry as lust took over.

“Use your mouth.” 

Another high pitched whine. You bent low, static-filtered breathing feeling so close and warm on his cock. He summoned a tentacle to join his hand in working his member, its slimy texture a poor replacement for your tongue but…he growled at the first lick of it…good enough. As long as he thought it was you, it would be good enough. His teeth dug into his lip, stifling his groans as he guided ‘your tongue.’ A slow lick on each of his balls, up the underside of his cock, teasing the vein there that you knew he liked. 

“That’s good, dear. Ah! So good. Let me reward you.”

His free hand twitched, imagining reaching for your hole, working you open slowly with his fingers. The silky walls of your cavern were a familiar sensation his brain provided in the absence of the actual thing. His fingers pushed in and out slowly, tracing the outer edges before dipping back in. Your moans were constant now, a never ending chant of your pleasure and his name. His head swam with sensations, imagined and transmitted. A part of him reveled in this pleasure you gave him, that you didn’t know he was partaking in. 

“That’s it, darling. My darling doe. Take your pleasure…” He gasped, the muscles in his stomach growing taut as the coils of ecstasy wound themselves layer after layer. “…give me mine too. Make me cum with your mouth.”

From your sounds and the rough brushes of heat ghosting along his body, he could tell you were close, riding that fantasy of yours without reservation.

“Not yet, dear. Hnngh. Not..yet.” It was getting harder to breathe as his heart pounded, trying to reach that high while you were still going. He needed the stimuli. He craved it. He was so close. The wet heat from your body transmitted from his staff to his cock, your voice garbled pleasured sounds from his radio. So close. So close.

“Al! I—I’m coming!”

“Wait, darling. You can take a little more. Just a bit—”

But his plea didn’t reach you. He heard you scream directly into the microphone, so loud and amorous that his mind stuttered, worried that the sound ringing through the room would somehow escape and be heard by some passerby. 

All at once, he lost the rhythmic strokes against his body as your undulating stopped. Your salacious broadcast had ended.

He rutted up into his hand furiously. He hadn’t finished yet, but he was so close, a bit feral as he tried to reach his own high now that you had achieved yours. But it was no use. His tentacle stroked precum and slime-slick pumps against his cock but without your voice, or even your ghostly touch, it felt like nothing. He growled, frustrated, slamming his hands against the armrests as he leaned back into his chair, defeated.

“Fuck!” What a tease! An absolute menace! He cursed you as he tried to calm himself, scrubbing his clean hand down his face. Massaging his temples, a realization dawned on him, reaching his orgasm was next to impossible now. He breathed deep.

But his blood still pumped in his veins, hot and wanting. He couldn’t regain his composure, too worked up. His hand reached to pull off his bow tie and free his neck to get some air. It didn’t help. You damned sinful temptation. He never had to suffer such irritating incidents like this before you. He growled and hissed, a primal aggression taking over. 

This was why he had been happy to never feel these urges. It was crude, having his mind controlled by his lower body. 

No matter, he would get you to fix it.

With one final deep breath, he stood and tidied his desk, making sure to leave nothing amiss. There was no point in tidying himself up. Not when he intended to make a mess of you in just a moment. At the thought, he decided to let you see the proud work you’d done on him. He took off his coat and rolled up his sleeves. You liked seeing him disheveled, more casual as you put it. Your heartbeat always picked up at every little show of his skin.

It was with this appearance, top buttons undone and slacks clinging onto his hips by some work of demon magick that wasn’t his, that he teleported back home to you. He was ready to see your surprised face, flushed still from your orgasm and slightly disoriented. Then he’d fuck you back into your coma for daring to pull such a stunt in the middle of the day. He buzzed at the plan, cock aching once again.

When he’d stepped foot into your bedroom, the sight that greeted him was a disheveled lover, hand still in clutching onto his microphone as you dozed. Seeing you weak and asleep, the urgency in his body cooled slightly, worry taking its place. Immediately, he’d made it to the bedside, checking to see if you were alright. 

Light breaths. A small sigh of relief escaped his lips before his stomach clenched to remind him of his current predicament. His eyes roamed your body, making sure you were alright. When nothing seemed amiss, his eyes narrowed in irritation. He’d suspected the possibility that you had passed out after your performance but the disappointment in seeing you unconscious still stung. 

Up close, he could see you, feel you, smell you. You reeked of cum, having fainted as soon as you’d climaxed. How filthy. How divine. The scent was wonderful, heady and musky, traces of your activity still lingering in the air and on his microphone. The fire in his belly roiled to life once again. Stupid little thing. Making his life just that much more difficult and wonderful than it already was.

Precious, lewd little thing. His heartbeat quickened as the rush of lust came back. He’d had all intentions of taking out his frustrations on your more than willing body but seeing you like this, needing your rest, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

But it didn’t mean he wouldn’t get his end. With one knee on the bed, he approached you, wanting to be as close as he could without disturbing your slumber. His hand found his needy cock once again, palm warm and inviting as he stroked from the base to tip. His other hand wound itself in your hair, gently petting you and relishing your warmth as his hand worked his member over your sleeping form.

His ears picked up the sound of your breathing, gentle and soft, just like everything about you. And you let someone like him defile that softness. He swallowed, drool already pooling in his mouth at the meal in front of him that he could not devour as he wished to.

The smell of your shared bed, your sex, your cum, your want lingering in the air. It enveloped him completely. This was his home. His den. His lover. His mate. While the little broadcast was exquisite, the live thing would always be better.

And he can wait for you to get better. Oh, all the things he would do to you once you were well. Just, he needed to take the edge off a little. He breathed in and let himself get lost in the feeling, the heat of his body rising and he got close to his climax again. His hips bucked into his hand, chasing that high as he watched your peaceful face. Shudders racked his body. He was so close. If only he could hear you call his name with that pretty voice of yours.

“Alastor?” His breath hitched. His hand had unconsciously clenched in your hair, not enough to hurt but it did stir you awake. His eyes met yours and his climax finally hit him under your stare. The knot in his stomach unwound and he watched his cum spurt without his control. Some of it splattered onto your bewildered face, causing you to flinch. 

“D-did you just…?” A small hand went up to the new stains on your face, wiping the smear onto your fingers as you studied it as if you couldn’t comprehend exactly what it was. Fair enough. This wasn’t behavior he ever would have done before he met you. He was slightly embarrassed by that but there was something satisfying about seeing his cum on your cheek.

“Well, you did too, didn’t you?” A clawed hand carded through your hair, slightly smearing it with his spend though you were still too bewildered to notice. His voice was husky, still riding high as his body sang in completion. You blushed madly as you remembered what you’d done and why he was here, like this.

“T-that’s—“ 

“Hush. Don’t worry about it, darling. Though it did get me a little worked up.” With a few snaps of his fingers, you were both cleaned up and the bed made around you. It took more effort to do as all he wanted to was collapse next to you but no. He had to make sure you were comfortable before he did. As lovely a sight that you made, he wouldn’t let you rest in filth.

Neither of you spoke as he climbed to his side of the bed, sitting against the headboard while you looked at him from where you laid. Perhaps your stillness slowed your brain processes as well. You still seemed tense, shocked. He started petting your head, an action that calmed you just as much as it did him. He needed just a few moments. 

When complete clarity finally returned to him, he faced you, a teasing grin on his lips as his eyes narrowed.

“I hope you know…” He leaned down to peer into your eyes, holding your gaze and relishing his lone figure reflected in its shine. His eyes roamed over your body, a slow take that he was sure you caught before he looked into your eyes and continued. Despite having only just finished, electric lust still buzzed in his chest, vibrating through his voice as he growled low a promise to the little troublemaker. “…that when you’ve fully recovered, darling, you shouldn’t expect to get out of this bed for a long while.” 

Beneath his palm, you trembled, your little shakes traveling from his fingertips to his cock. Your eyes switched from confusion to dread, sensing the underlying threat and seduction in his tone. He traced a lazy pattern on your cheek, cupping the supple flesh to feel the fever induced heat. Like a demure little creature, you leaned into his touch. 

And like the wretched little thing you were, you casually drew his thumb into your hot mouth, all of that sweet dread replaced by even sweeter confidence. With eyes never leaving his own, you gave his thumb a bold slow lick. He held back the urge to press his thumb down into that lascivious tongue. 

“Looking forward to it…” The tease had the gall to smirk at him, teeth lightly prickling his captured appendage. Clarity and mirth sparkled in your eyes. “Lover.”

AO3

[januaryembrs]

THERE'S NO SIGN OF LIFE | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [3]

Description: The one where you grieve Emily together (+ the one where you kiss him)

word count: 7.9k

trigger warnings: okay so this chapter is exactly how it sounds, heavy in themes of grief, depression, anger, slight ideation of the world being better without bugsy (as if), DRUG USE (once and not addictively and not by Spencer!), mention of Spencer being horny, mention on blood and drinking.

authors note: this was just supposed to be a little filler chapter for the next one where the real juicy shit happens and long story short it became nearly 8k words of pure angst until the last minute when I decided to stop hurting you all. please don't hate me, promise a big boy chapter is coming up.

previous chpt | next chpt

'Doctor, look into my eyes.

I've been breathing air, but there's no sign of life.'

The team had fallen into chaos since Emily died. Hotch thought that just five little stages of grief weren’t quite enough to summarise what they were going through.

Morgan was pissed off by the smallest things, had flipped shit just that morning because the printer had jammed. He'd gone through two mugs and a keyboard in just two weeks in his tempers that had certainly seen better days.

Penelope’s eyes gleamed with unshed tears she was trying her hardest to choke down, to wipe away so fast she could pretend to still see her computer screen, but Hotch didn’t need to be a profiler to see the way her sleeves were smudged with mascara, sodden through 24/7. 

Rossi seemed resigned, tired, his breath smelled faintly of the strong whiskey he saved for special occasions, his hair unkempt, as though he hadn’t slept until the early hours, or if he had it had been unrestful. He took more frequent breaks, came back smelling like the cigars he kept in his desk drawer for the bad days, and he sighed as if the world beat down on his back, like he’d been asked to choose between stopping world hunger or saving the environment. His chest was heavy. His face was tired of losing so many friends he loved.  

Spencer was working himself to the bone, his desk piled with books (even more so than usual), his fingers twitching by his side more often, as if his brain cells had been dialled up to a thousand percent, which was saying something when it came to Reid. In fact the only thing out of ordinary was the fact he was constantly checking his phone, the sight of which had Pen dropping her coffee on the rough carpet, which she had promptly then excused herself with watery eyes over. Yes, he actually knew how to use technology, which he had been so vehemently against for years, until the team realised it was because one very important member of the team had been using her sick days for three weeks now. 

They knew he was looking after her, that he would bring her dinner and make sure the cats were fed, but they had no idea she had all but moved in with him, Niko and Sergio included. 

Yet he found himself checking the screen every twenty minutes or so for signs of an update, even just a thumbs up or a little sign that said seen under his good morning texts. He was scared he’d wandered too far into boyfriend territory, it certainly felt that way when he would come home to see her bundled on the couch, nose deep in one of the books he would leave out for her, how her eyes would light up just the tiniest amount to see him home. She rarely cooked, he knew she didn’t even touch the food in his fridge no matter how much he reminded her she needed to eat when he wasn’t there, to which she usually just nodded at him and buried her head in his arm to escape the scoldings. 

Things were different with her here. He knew she was vulnerable, lost, he saw it every time she came crawling into his bed from where he’d set her up in the spare room, or when Sergio made himself home on her lap and she squeezed the cat to her chest in quiet tears. Usually he would have squirmed out of her grip, he had always preferred Emily, but these days he just let her sob with a docile blink at where Spencer watched her from the other end of the couch, and pretended not to notice when his fur was sodden and messed up. 

Spencer had felt something for her before, the weeks, months even leading up to Emily dying, but with her here, needing him all the time, holding him tightly when he needed to grieve himself, making herself at home in his personal space, he was sure she knew it too. There was no way she didn’t know how he felt. 

But the topic was too heavy, too complex to bring up with her mourning her sister, it would rip the carpet out from beneath her feet, and no matter how heavily, besottedly, how deeply Spencer felt he loved her, he would never do that to her. He couldn’t. 

He had always loved mind games, but loving someone so much you couldn’t not tell them, only to not tell them because you loved them so much felt like a whole paradox even he couldn’t wrap his big brain around. 

So they stayed where they were. She had good days, though they usually looked like said reading on the sofa with nothing but a strong cup of coffee in her stomach. And then she had bad ones. And the bad ones made him scared, so scared he had no choice but to get help. 

Penelope came over the Friday evening with Spencer after work, kitted out entirely with nail polishes and gems, the box set of Barbie movies, a hot chocolate mix she swore by, three tubs of ice cream, face masks, Teen vogue with a Never have I ever section ‘Begging to be answered’ and of course, her Pièce de résistance, her makeup kit and joke fluffy handcuffs for them to tie down Reid and give him a makeover. 

“Hello my handsome gentlemen,” She greeted Niko and Sergio who rushed to the door on instinct, knowing Spencer always gave them each a big handful of treats upon arriving home, “Auntie Penny is here for a super girly evening, no boys allowed,” 

“Am I not invited?” Spencer asked, faux hurt flashing on his face as he shut the door behind them, though his eyes were quick to scan around his living room for any sign of her. There wasn’t, not even a single pillow was out of place, and he knew it had been another day of skipped lunch and breakfast.

“You are, of course you are, I just didn’t want them to get jealous,” She whispered, her brown eyes taking in the too perfect apartment and the lack of the Prentiss girl, “Is she sleeping?”

“No,” He said without checking, because he knew she rarely slept nowadays unless she was in his bed with him, “I’ll go get her,” 

“Okay,” Some of the joy died out of her tone when she heard his voice soften sadly as she set her bags down on the kitchen counter, “I’ll get the hot chocolates ready!” Penelope tried to recover in that perky tone she used to cover up when something hurt her. 

He just hoped this had been the right decision, that he wasn’t pushing her too hard. 

Knocking softly on her door, he let himself in when he heard a small murmur on the other side, and as he suspected, she was curled into a small ball under one of his blankets, her hair wet, her pyjamas in the laundry basket. She had one of his shirts on and some boxers he had noticed had gone missing, but he would never hold it against her. 

She had showered while he was gone at least, and her breath was minty fresh as he crept over the woolly rug and kneeled one leg on the bedside. 

“Hey,” He started softly, sweeter than honey, his cadence somewhat hopeful as he leaned over her and stroked her hair that was still damp. “You got up! Did you eat anything?” 

She looked up at him with tired eyes, but she reached out with both her arms to embrace him gently, like she’d been waiting all day to have him near again. 

“I had a couple biscuits and some coffee,” Her voice was raspy, and it was the first he’d heard her speak in a few days. “I’ll try better tomorrow, I just was a bit tired today-”

“No, no, that’s great,” He rushed to comfort her, to stop the apology that was coming his way whenever she didn’t take care of herself the way he wanted her to, “Penny’s here to see you. She’s here for a girl’s night, if that’s okay?”

Bugsy attempted a smile, though she seemed hesitant, but he thought that was probably just the way her expression was these days, like everything hopeful had been sucked out of her. 

“I’ve missed Penny,” She said, and he knew she meant it. She nodded finally, and he leaned over her to give her a proper hug for putting on a brave face, feeling her nuzzle into his chest at the contact. She sniffed the air for a second, before whispering into his ear, “Is that chocolate?”

He chuckled, stroking down her back and pulling her up into a sit. He’d gotten used to her being pliant under his touch, and he only wished her being so receptive to his advances would be under other circumstances. 

The urge to grab her face and kiss every bit of hurt out of her was growing harder and harder to shove down with every day he saw her so soft and wounded. He wasn’t good at knowing what to say, but for her, he was trying to be. The only alternative was kissing her silly, until the pit she’d crawled into was warm, just warm all over, and she came back to him in one piece. 

“Yes, it’s chocolate. Now come on, before she starts the movie without us,” He breathed gently, helping her out of bed, pretending he didn’t hear the way her joints cracked with the first sign of movement in hours. “Wait a second, pants,” He reminded her, tossing her some sweatpants from the floor, which she shoved on blindly. He didn’t mind her walking around like that if it meant she were comfortable, but he didn’t want her to give Pen a scare. 

A ghost of a smile teased on her lips as he led her out the room with two hands on her shoulders, seeing the blonde woman light up like the fourth of July at the sound of the two of them approaching. 

“Bug!” Penelope called, mid way through distributing a hefty amount of whipped cream and marshmallows on top of three mugs. Spencer watched the second her eyes widened slightly as she took in the girl’s appearance, trying frantically to cover it with an even wider smile, rushing to hug her tightly. He saw the minute she realised she felt so different in her arms; lifeless, heavy, rooted to the spot, like any contact with someone other than the gentle Spencer-touches she was used to made her lock up. 

She looked sick, like she hadn’t known fresh air in weeks, or like she’d pulled three all nighters in a row, or like she would be able to watch a ten car pile up and not bat an eye. She looked dead. She felt dead in Penny’s arms. 

The thought of it made her squeeze her tighter, until she felt two arms cuddle her back firmly. 

“I see Spencer has been treating you well,” Pen said, because she was avoiding the subject of Emily, and the way Bugsy looked exhausted, and the way she saw how scared Spencer was when he’d come into ‘the bat cave’ that afternoon to ask for her help. 

Bugsy attempted another smile, nodding slightly as the blonde drew back from their hug, and she saw the worry she tried so desperately to hide as she took in her face. 

The girl’s skin was dull in a way they’d never seen her before, her expression tired, her bones creaky, like someone had reached down her gullet and plucked her soul right from out of her chest, snatched it there and then. Penelope saw why Spencer looked so worried. 

“He’s been great,” Bugsy replied simply, her eyes finding Spencer’s where he shadowed behind her, worried she would faint on the spot from all the movement. She’d not been eating anything other than what he encouraged down her throat, but he supposed a handful of biscuits were better than nothing. 

She felt the bottomless pit that used to be her heart rip open just that bit further, the way it had done slowly the past few days, eating away at her skin. She knew she could never ever repay Spencer for everything he was doing, knew the odd few times she’d managed to collect herself enough to be there for him when he cried could never amount to how he hovered over her every second he was home. 

But where she should have felt guilt, there was nothing, there was just nothing left of her. 

He seemed to notice the slip, the way he always did, and she never did tell him how perceptive he was as he stroked over the back of her hair, leading her with a warm hand on her upper back to the sofa where Pen had already laid out the movie selection, had already grabbed the hot chocolates that were quickly melting onto the coffee table, where Niko was waiting with an eager pink tongue to collect his share, where he settled her down and wrapped her in a blanket as if he was swaddling a baby, where he let her take the middle and him and Pen on either side as Fairytopia lit up his living room with hot pinks and rainbows and flowers and magic. 

And even though she had yet to crack a smile, a real one at least, she seemed content, not entirely uncomfortable with the evening as Penelope commandeered one of her hands to paint her nails a shiny blush colour  ‘to match the evening’. Spencer thought for a minute she might have just needed some girl time, something no matter how many cuddles and sweet words he whispered could never give her. Maybe that was all she’d needed. 

Maybe she would get through this without entirely crumbling.

It wasn’t until the next day when even showering was too big a feat for her, when she had only two mouthfuls of the blueberry pancakes he’d made her before she apologised with watery eyes that he realised how stupid he was for believing it. 

It wasn’t until she said she wanted to move back home by herself that he really started panicking. 

JJ took her out for a picnic in the park the following weekend. The guilt was eating her up alive about hiding Emily’s secret, and from what Pen had told her, she wasn’t doing good. She wasn’t even doing bad; she was barely hanging on by a thread. Hotch had said she would be a flight risk with her sister gone, had said they would need to keep an eye on her as much as they would the rest of the team, but for Emily’s safety she couldn’t tell her the truth. JJ could only stand back and watch as the girl they all knew crawled into something dark inside herself and barricaded the door closed. 

Spencer had taken the nice approach with her, never forcing her to do anything she didn’t want to or asking too directly, as had Penelope. They’d both tried letting her open up by herself, which had only resulted in the girl taking about five steps back and even starting to shut out Reid, something which they all saw tore him up even more than seeing her wasting away in his spare room. He spent more days at hers, crying harder than she had seen him even when he was struggling with opioids. Crying for Emily some of the time, but mostly crying for the fact he was entirely helpless now she had moved out, like the one thing that had held him upright until then had left in a guilty mess of ‘sorry’s and dead eyes.

So she instead took the approach of telling Bugsy she needed help. Because if there was one thing that had always been able to bend her will, it was someone else needing her. 

JJ thought about reminding Spencer that Bug would come back if he took the same route, if he just told her how badly he needed her instead of her feeling like she was simply a burden on his life. But she knew he wouldn’t hear it, he would only blame himself more. 

So she’d told Bug she was struggling with looking after Henry alone while Will was working away, that he’d been asking for her since she’d come to his second birthday party with the biggest stuffed whale toy he’d ever seen. It was a white lie, Will was home more days than she was, but Henry had been asking for ‘the bug lady’ every time he played with his teddy. And it worked like a charm. 

So they sat in the warm April breeze, Bugsy reading on her stomach as JJ carefully nudged a punnet of fat, red grapes her way, hoping she would take the hint and swallow a few. 

It wasn’t until Henry came diving over to them from where he was collecting snails by their shells that Bug even showed any sign of pulling herself out of the book. 

“Buggy!” The little boy called, his tongue struggling with the complexity of the ‘gsy’ sound, and she looked up at him with a tired smile on her face that JJ saw right through immediately. “Buggy, look,” 

She held out her hand, and he gently placed a common land snail in the palm of her hand, no bigger than a quarter, who happily slid over her fingertip with a squishy sensation. 

“Thankyou, Henry,” She replied, her eyes trailing over the shiny slime he left behind over her palm, his tiny antenna eyes googling up at her. “What should we call him?” 

“Sid’d’snail,” Henry replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world, crouching next to her to watch him crawling over her chipped pink fingernails.

“Hi Sid,” She chimed, and JJ watched her face drop into a completely emotionless expression the second Henry’s back was turned to find Sid a friend. 

She felt it clawing at her throat to come out, Emily’s alive, Emily’s alive, come back to us please, please come back to us because Emily’s still alive. JJ was watching her rot in front of her very eyes, and better yet she had the power to stop it with those very few words. 

She could put an end to all of this, she knew how badly it had hurt when Ros died, her older sister, her whole world ripped from her the way Emily’s ‘death’ was doing to Bugsy. She would have given anything for someone to have turned to her and said ‘Jennifer, your sister is still alive. Jennifer, it was all a trick, a hoax, a ploy to keep you safe. Jennifer, Ros is still here, alive and breathing and living her best life in Paris of all places.’

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t betray Emily like that, and knowing, no matter how much of a relief it would come, would put Bugsy in more danger with Ian Doyle and whatever other enemies her sister had made at interpol than she could have ever realised. 

So instead, JJ just ran a gentle hand over her hair that warmed in the sun, and started braiding parts of it absent-mindedly, like they were two girls in a playground waiting for hometime.

JJ stayed quiet, and watched Bugsy get worse. 

Aaron came over to her apartment at 8am sharp. He’d found JJ and Penny in floods of tears in the women’s bathroom when they were due to start the presentation of the latest case and they were nowhere to be seen. Spencer had become detached, quieter with every day that he checked his phone and saw no reply, but had mentioned he’d seen them go into the bathroom together as he got his morning coffee, only for their boss to see the two of them clinging to one another with wet cheeks and before he could even ask, Penelope splurged that Bugsy hadn’t messaged in four days and was refusing to open the door, and that even Spencer asking so sweetly, something that was usually her kryptonite, had failed to draw her out. 

Aaron was convinced if this didn’t work he was kicking down the door himself, even if it meant filing paperwork for a necessary home visit. 

Aaron Hotchner, surprising to no one, was soft on the youngest Prentiss girl. He’d watched her grow for four years straight, had come to her of all people in his hour of desperate need, and felt every second of her grief as if it was his own because he, like JJ, knew he had the power to stop it all but couldn’t. 

He called her name through the door first, her real name, loud yet anxious, along with a firm knock. When he heard nothing back, he rapped on the wood louder, “Bugsy, I know you’re in there. The team are worried about you, they’re worried you’re hurt,” 

Nothing. 

And it wasn’t just the team that was worried, it was him too, if his heavy fists banging even harder were anything to go off of. 

“Bugsy, if you don’t answer I’m sending for the SWAT team and asking them to ram this door down,” He said, with not a trace of a lie in his tone. Because he wasn’t lying, not by a long shot. 

He heard footsteps then, and she appeared through a small crack in the doorway, not open enough for him to see the mess in her living room, but enough to see the way her entire face looked like a cadaver. 

He fought back against the guilt choking him from the inside out.  

“Stop yelling,” She murmured, almost bitterly, “You’re scaring the cats,” 

“You’re scaring us,” He countered back, in a tone that was a little too mean, but from what he heard, soft and gentle wasn’t working, “Please, just let us help you, stop pushing everyone away,”

“That’s a little pot calling the kettle black there, Hotch,” She said in an equally harsh tone, her face scrunching into a frown, and she nearly slammed the door on him right there and then. 

“Get your work out clothes on, we’re going for a run,” He ordered, and it was only then she notices his sport shorts and trainers. She scoffed in his face. He was quick to shove a foot in the door before she actually could swing it shut on him, ignoring the way he nearly yelped as it trapped between the wood, “I’m not asking,” 

“Fuck off,” She spat, and he bristled at her choice language, but he saw the way her eyes told him everything he needed to know. She was a roadkill on a sidewalk waiting to be put out of her misery; she didn’t want to be prodded and poked at and ordered around, she wanted out. 

She wanted to go quietly, without a fight. And it was for that reason, he put up more of a struggle. 

“You are coming outside with me, even if I have to drag you down the street myself because this is not how it ends for you.” Aaron barked back, forcing the door open with one of his large hands as if it was nothing.

“Of all people, I would have thought you would understand, Aaron,” It was like she had slapped him in the face, though he thinks maybe that would have hurt less, and it was only then he saw her eyes had welled up, and her bottom lip was quivering. It was a horrible sight, it twisted his guts like he’d been stabbed by Foyet all over again, but it was better than the nothingness that was there before. 

“Ofcourse, I understand,” His voice softened, his hands coming up to gently rest on her shoulder like she was breakable china beneath his palm, “You think I don’t know what it’s like to want to hide away and never face a world without Haley ever again? I can’t, even now, imagine the rest of my life with her gone,” His throat clogged with emotion he fought off, because he refused to have both of them crying in her living room when he was meant to be the one pulling her out of it, “But I do it because Jack needs me-”

“No body needs me,” She said emptily, ignoring the way Sergio wrapped his tail around her leg and meowed loudly as if to tell her otherwise. 

“Yes we do,” Hotch insisted, seriously, damn near ready to shake her on the spot to knock some sense into her, “We need you, and better yet we love you. You may have lost your sister, but you still have a family waiting for you, Bugsy,” 

And that was it, the single crack that broke the dam. Before he knew it she had launched herself into his arms in a fit of tears, clinging to him tighter than he thought she could for someone who looked so weak and perished. 

He just held her close, feeling his own stray tears drip down his nose as his shirt got wet through. In another life, maybe he and Haley would have had a daughter, and maybe she would have reminded him of Bugsy, maybe his heart would soften to putty just the same way it did with her. The same way it did for Jack. 

And eventually, when she dried her face, and quietened Sergio down, she went to put on her gym gear and one of Spencer's hoodies she’d stolen and felt too guilty to give back, and they went for a run.

If there was one thing Rossi knew better than his whiskeys, it was how to cook a good carbonara. And if there was one thing Bugsy needed more than anything at the moment it was a buttload of carbs and cheese. 

Aaron had been taking her running every morning since that day, and even she had to admit the fresh air and exercise did her good, made her feel stronger and less like the women they find in body bags at the beginning of a case, made her feel like maybe, just maybe, she could get through the rest of this. 

It wasn’t going away overnight, not by any means, but she looked healthier, and her exhaustion meant she got more sleep too, but what remained was a hunger that she was filling with cereal and instant noodles that Rossi knew he had to put a stop to immediately. Instant noodles should have been outlawed with crack and underaged drinking, he would proudly tell her. 

So he invited her over for a cooking lesson, or as he would put it, she could watch him cook and eat as much as she wanted at the end, if she promised to never buy those awful microwave ramen ever again. And she’d agreed, because she felt her appetite coming back every day (and she knew where he kept the good white wine).

“Now as entertaining as this is watching you drain my stash of Sémillon, why don’t you chop up that pork and I’ll get started on the sauce.” He handed her a sharpened butcher’s knife, and the thin slices of seasoned ham, turning to use the stove for just a few moments, “You’re gonna add the cream in until it becomes thick, like cough mixture running off your spoon,” 

“Thick and creamy, you got it,” She chimed in, her fingers slicing the meat into strips, “Did you want this as diced or Julian?”

“Do you mean julienne?” 

“That’s what I just said,” He chuckled into the pot, his chest warming to hear some of that old bratty teenaged sass returning to her tone. He bet she would have run rings around him if she was his kid. 

“Diced, if you would,” David said, using a wooden spoon to stir in the thick cream little by little until the container ran empty. 

“Yes, Chef,” She hummed in response, flipping the chopping board around to begin slicing them the other side, “So, I’m guessing if I asked to try some of that Sauvignon I saw in the fridge, your response would be- oh motherfucker-”

David frowned, “Maybe not so harsh on the tongue but-” He turned around when he heard a hiss, and he quickly understood why she’d thrown the expletive out there. 

Her hand ran red with thick blood, dripping quickly down her arm, ruining her shirt. He didnt even care that his hand carved indian wood chopping board was permanently stained, or that the meat was contaminated, or that the blood trickled a little too quick over his floor, only that her eyes seemed suddenly far away as she did nothing to stop the cut gaping. It had caught her in a trance, one she was not even aware she had been sucked into until he grabbed a towel and headed for her. 

“Emily, no! Emily please, I need medical in here, we have an agent down! Emily, please, please don’t, please- Someone get medical, she’s bleeding-”

David’s hands grabbed a hold of her bloodied palm, wrapping it tightly in the cloth, so harshly it knocked her out of the daze she was in, dragged her out from the last time there was blood all over her hand, when it had been Emily’s blood, when she could do nothing but freeze like she had now. 

“I’m fine,” She said on a reflex, even though he hadn’t asked, he had just acted, pulling her towards the cupboard where he kept the first aid kit, “David, I’m totally fine, it’s just a little scratch,”

“You have to let me go,” Emily had gasped. "Let me go, Bug,"

“David, I’m fine, stop worrying,” She said again when she saw him fussing, hoping he couldn't see the way she’d started shaking, and if he had, she wondered if she could play it off as the adrenaline rushing to fix the wound. 

She knew she was on thin ice with the lot of them after her talk with Aaron. Like he said, they were her family, and family’s took care of one another. She couldn’t live with herself if she kept burdening them so much, kept them from grieving their partner just as much as she was; she loved them too. 

Bugsy was trying to get better, she really was. Sometimes it was just a little difficult, like now when she could still see Emily’s butchered body infront of her as if she were little more than that joint of pork she’d been julienning. 

“It’s okay to get hurt sometimes, kid. You don’t have to lie and pretend it doesn’t hurt if it does,” David said, sitting her back on the breakfast table, holding the bloodied cloth up where he was unravelling a spool of bandage and some rubbing alcohol. 

She shut up then, and she wondered if she was really that see through or if David was just that good at his job. They stayed silent, except for the moan of pain she let out when he doused her hand in the solution, pulling the skin closed tightly and wrapping it taut enough for her to feel her heartbeat in her fingertips. 

“It’s okay if you need a little help once in a while,” He continued, his movements gentle and careful, worried he’d spook her with the first real conversation they’d had in a long time. Rossi had always been closer to Emily than he had her, and maybe it was the fact he lost the few chances he had to be a father, or just the fact she reminded him so much of her older sister, but being with her felt like part of the wound in his chest was the one being treated. “Rather than being afraid to ask for help, remember this: When you ask someone to help you, you are actually doing them a tremendous favour by giving them an opportunity to feel needed.” 

“Is that a David Rossi original, or did you get that from one of your self help books?” She sniffed, hoping he didn’t see the way her expression had fallen, or her throat caught with an apology, or how she hid it with a small smile. 

“Richard Carlson.” He replied, pinning the end of the bandage in tight enough it wouldn’t snag. He sighed, looking at the girl who started guiltily at her fingers, reaching behind her for the corkscrew, “I’ll go get the Sauvignon, you order us a pizza. Just please god, no pineapple, that’s just as bad as instant noodles in my books. That’s like asking Da Vinci about bitcoin, it’s madness,” 

And that was the first time she properly laughed in weeks. 

While Derek was more than equipped to schmoozing the ladies when he wanted a date with them, he had not been ready for this when he’d asked Bugsy to go to the club with him.

She had been doing better, Rossi had said. She had seemed stronger, that was what Hotch had told him. Spencer said they’d even gone for coffee together. He left out the part where it felt awkward and almost like they were seeing an ex, though that of course would be impossible, because they were never dating. At least as far as he knew anyway. 

It had been going fine, they’d gotten two rounds of drinks, had been chatting and she’d even been giggling the more the alcohol hit her. She was looking more like she used to, and it almost all felt like a horrible dream hearing from the rest of the team the state she was in. 

He’d turned his back for a second, for two damn seconds, and she’d been whisked away by some frat boy, and come back to him with a crazy happy look in her eye that he didn’t notice until an hour later. 

“Where did you go, kid?” He’d asked, and she’d shrugged like it was nothing. 

“Needed the bathroom,” She said, and he hadn’t even noticed it was a lie until the light struck her eye for more than a couple seconds and he saw just how dilated her pupils were, like the blackness swallowed her iris whole, and the way she buzzed on the spot with more energy than she’d had in months. 

She was supposed to be getting better, and she was trying, really she was. 

But she couldn’t stop seeing the blood on her hand, couldn’t stop seeing Emily’s face now she could actually sleep again. 

Spencer was half way through his fourth re-read of War and Peace, in its original Russian translation, when he got the knock on the door. 

It was 10pm, he muttered to himself, who was bothering him at this time. 

But of course, as luck would have it, it was the one person who he hadn’t stopped thinking about, the one person who he hadn’t stopped thinking about for the past three years. 

“Spencerrrrrrr!” She chirped, and immediately alarm bells were ringing in his head, her fingers linked with Morgan’s as if he’d all but pulled her to his apartment from the cab. 

She wasn’t stumbling, and she smelled a little like alcohol, but not so much that her inhibitions would be completely destroyed, so he knew it wasn’t that. And Derek looked guilty, a serious kind of guilty like he’d suggested they take a drive on a motorbike with no helmet, or go chasing unsubs unarmed. 

It wasn’t until she flung her arms over his shoulders, and he’d pulled her inside, Morgan following behind with a nervous clear of his throat that he realised what it was. 

“Spencerrrr, I missed you! I missed you so much, Spencer!” And usually he’d love the way she said his name, but this time it was tainted, too false, too electrified. It barely even sounded like her, he hated the way his heart still pounded out of his chest at the fact she pressed herself so close in that little clubbing top of hers, those tight jeans. 

“What did she take?” He ignored her little hums of a song he couldn’t hear, the way she pushed herself even further into his body in a way he knew too well felt like a warm hug throughout her entire being. “Morgan!” 

Spencer had never snapped at him, not since his own days on whatever it was he was doing, and Morgan ran a hand over his face as she nuzzled her nose into his neck. 

“I don’t know, I swear. I turned my back for two seconds to get us another drink, and next thing I know this senior is hitting on her and she’s shoving gum in her mouth and coming back towards the bar- I don’t know what it was, I swear I thought it was gum, man,” Derek rushed, hating the look of desperation in Spencer’s eyes as he yanked her away from him with a small mewl of protest from her mouth. 

“Hey, hey, sweetheart, look at me,” He murmured, and she did, and he saw almost immediately the way her pupils were the size of saucers when she stared at him, crazed and intoxicated, “Do you remember what you took? I need to know so I can keep you safe,”

“You always keep me safe, so safe with Spencer,” She giggled to herself, trying to pull him back to her, but he wouldn’t budge, not until he got a real answer, “Come on, I’m going to be fine, it was just a little Molly, nothing to worry about. Kid even gave me a half for like ten dollars because he said I was reeeeeal pretty. Do you think I’m pretty Spence? I think you’re pretty, I think you’re super pretty,”

They felt themselves sigh in relief, because while still a drug, half of one pill shouldn’t really do much, especially if it was the cheap stuff going around frat houses that the DEA was having a field day with. 

Morgan looked at Spencer, where he let her shove her face against him once more, wrapping his arms around her back and feeling her sigh in relief that she was back there under his warm touch, and they shared the same thought. 

This never happened. 

Because if it did, it meant opening a can of worms Spencer had tried for years to shut tight. It meant acknowledging that the reason Morgan came to him and no one else was because he knew Spencer would know how to handle her when she was coming down in an hour or so. It meant acknowledging why Spencer would know that, and why they hadn’t acknowledged it the first time around. It meant their jobs would be on the line, and so was hers, and as much as she was struggling at the moment, they knew she just slipped up, and that this wasn’t who she was. They knew she could be better, that Spencer would force her to get better, because if the only other option was having her turn into who he used to be, then he was handing in his notice first thing Monday morning. 

That wasn’t an option in Spencer’s books, nor was it in Morgan’s. 

So Morgan left with a little pat on the back of her head, claiming she was a little troublemaker, though he hadn’t quite sounded as teasing as he’d intended and more bitter, and leaving Spencer with her to minimise the damage. 

Bugsy let him lead her to the spare room that once was hers, but she didn’t quite care enough to say anything other than, “I missed you so much,” As she pushed her face into his neck more. 

He sighed, sitting her down on the bed, knowing where she’d left some of her makeup wipes in his bathroom. 

“Stay right here, I’ll be right back,” But she whined again, making a grab for his hand, which he quickly avoided, feeling mean for it the moment he saw her face scrunch in hurt. He stroked her hair behind her ear, watching her melt under his touch, and it almost felt like nothing had changed, like she had never moved out, and like she hadn’t just burst back into his life after popping a bit of molly and turning his evening upside down, “I missed you so much, too, Bug,”

And he wasn’t lying. Not even a little bit. 

She looked up at him with those dazed pupils, as big as dimes as they batted up at him dreamily, and some awful part of him always wanted her to be looking at him like that, like everything he ever did in his life was perfect and he was a god among men. Like she was seeing her favourite movie for the first time on the big screen, when in reality he was just wiping her makeup off her face and handing her spare clothes to change into so she could sleep off the come down. 

It wasn’t until he tried to leave again to go get her some water that she put up a real fight, one that couldn’t be fought off with a gentle touch (he tried), and she was quick to grab his wrist, tug him closer to her. 

“Bug, I’m getting you-”

“Come lay down with me, let’s talk. I love talking to you, why haven’t we talked in so long?” She said like every barrier she ever put up had come tumbling down and her mouth was a free for all for her every thought. 

Spencer smiled despite himself, his honeycomb eyes soft as he shuffled to lay beside her, and they stared at one another, heads against the same pillow, and she looked soft than an angel laying on his bed waiting for a response. She looked happy for the first time in a long time, and he hated how much it suited her. 

“You moved out, remember, bug? You said you wanted to go home and I didn’t want to stop you,” He said gently, like he didn’t want to upset her. But she just giggled and shook her head like he’d told her a joke. 

“Oh, yeah. But I didn’t really want to go home. I wanted to be with you. I want to be with you forever,” Bugsy giggled to herself, wiggling her toes inside her socks and running a finger up his arm gently as she lay on her side, “I missed you so much,”

His brow furrowed, “What do you mean you didn’t want to go home?” But she wasn’t listening, she was tracing over his face with her fingertip, running over his nose gently, past his full lips that quivered under her touch, “Bug,” 

“Hm?” 

“What do you mean you didn’t want to go home? Why did you leave?” He asked again, and she looked back up at him with a shrug, shuffling closer to him, so close he could feel her breath fan over his cheeks. 

“I thought here with you was my home. I wanted it to be.” She said, her fingers finding their way into his nightshirt, “But I felt too guilty being so sad all the time, like I was getting my sad all over you and you couldn’t do anything about it because I was the loser girl with the dead sister you had to look after,” 

His eyes burned with emotion, and he willed himself not to cry, because suddenly it made sense why she had pulled away so fast. She looked at him like he’d hung the damn cosmos in the sky; had he not even paid attention to the letter she’d written Emily. She felt like she was dragging him down, the way she felt about everyone in her life, and decided to cut herself free before she took him with her. And look where that had landed her. 

He felt like a fool. 

“No, no,” Spencer whispered, pulling her into his arms, because he was scared that come morning she would take a million steps back and up and leave him all over again, “That’s not true, that could never happen, you hear me? I liked taking care of you, I wanted to take care of you.” 

“Really?” She asked hopefully, her face soft and dream-like, “I liked taking care of you too, when you would let me,” 

It was true he had tried to push his own feelings on the back burner, besides the few times the dam had cracked and he wound up with his head in her lap receiving the brunt of the affection that evening. He didn’t know why he ever doubted she would have wanted to do that; when he had his migraines she had done nothing but love on him until he felt full to the brim of her warmth. 

He felt himself chuckle, and she shuffled entirely into his arms then squashing out any last molecule of space left between them, and his hand slid over the back of her head, fingers rubbing softly into the nape of her neck which only made her moan loudly, entirely unaware of how sensitive her skin was from the molly. 

“That feels nice, Spencer,” She hummed, her thighs straddling his own as she squished herself against him more, “You feel so nice, I love you so much.” 

He would be lying if he  said the sounds she was making didn’t shoot straight to his dick, and hoped more than anything that she couldn’t feel how it pressed against his stomach angrily. His heart beat rattled loudly, and he swore she had to be able to hear it.

“I love you too,” Spencer sighed, wishing he could have said this to her sober. Wishing she wouldn’t shut him out so easily, wishing he’d pushed her walls a little harder. 

Then she did something he wasn’t expecting. It took all of two seconds for him to close his eyes and hum in content, where her hands were playing with the soft of his waist, and his fingertips stroked her jaw gently, but in a quick movement she planted her lips on his in a soft, sweet peck that he barely had time to register was happening before he pulled away in shock. 

She kissed him. She had kissed him. 

And he wanted her so badly, wanted her in every way it was possible to have someone, wanted to kiss her so hard his face went blue and his lips went numb and his throat burned with lack of oxygen. But he would never dare do anything when she was like this; vulnerable, intoxicated, unaware that the pill she’d taken had acted like a truth serum.

“We’re so silly,” Bugsy giggled, and for a moment she looked twenty two again, like the girl that had answered the door to him in college in nothing but her boxers and a shirt, with her metal music playing so loud he could hear it ringing in his ears minutes after she’d switched it off. She looked like his Bugsy again. 

Spencer chuckled with her incredulously, feeling his face on fire from her action, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his chest that had been immovable for months, because as hard as her come down would hit her, things seemed different now, like they actually had a kicking chance of getting through the grief together. 

But before he could say anything else, her eyes had fluttered shut under the warmth of his palm, and she had drifted off to sleep. 

He guessed he’d have to tell her tomorrow. 

–

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[4leon]

self-care :: leon s kennedy

not proofred, f!reader | warnings: none

leon was tired. anybody could tell he was tired. the growing bags under his eyes, his attitude becoming snappier, his injuries from work that went uncared for. your heart broke a little more every time he came home, how he looked so sick of always fighting. you missed those nights before he was a police officer, those night spent cuddled on the sofa in your shared apartment, sheets masks on your face as you watched a movie

and you could only imagine how much leon missed those calm and quiet nights, spent asleep in your arms — though, he would never admit how much he loved being cuddled up in your arms. he send the polaroids of him asleep, in such a vulnerable state, in your arms were so embarrassing

it felt like the first time in forever he got a break. it was a short one, only three days. but he was intent on spending as much time as possible with you

"hehe my pretty boy~" you giggled softly as you put the frog headband on leon's head, getting his long, blonde hair out of the way

"wow, quite the look." leon said sarcastically as he stared at himself in the mirror. the frog headband looked ridiculous on him, but he knew how much you loved when he let you do this stuff to him

"oh shut up, you look handsome like that." you grabbed your facial cleanser and squirted a little onto your hand. "how is your skin so like, clear? are you not the one who spends all day flipping around in dirt? it's no fair"

leon laughed as you rubbed the soap over his face, the liquid foaming up into bubbles as it cleaned his (already perfect) skin. "i don't spend all day flipping around in dirt. i only do backflips sometimes"

you chuckled before shoving his face under the faucet to rinse the soapy suds off his skin. he sighed, feeling himself relax under your (not very) gentle touch. it's been forever since he's gotten a chance to just lay back and let you take care of him. he always felt as if he should take care of you, but it did feel nice to be cared for like this. made him feel loved <3

you grabbed your moisturizer and squeezed a little out of the bottle, "i'm running out of moisturizer..." you whined as you dotted it around his face before patting the moisturizer over his skin. "i'll buy you more tomorrow, i'm taking my girl shopping." he spoke confidently. you smiled prettily and kisses his moist lips sweetly

you smiled and grabbed a cotton pad before pouring a small amount of toner of the pad. you gently tapped the across his handsome face. "perfect, one sec." you mutter as you opened the cabinet to grab some serums. "which one?" you asked, pointing towards three glass bottles. leon examined the labels, acting as if he knew what any of it meant

"the blue one with the pearl things i guess..." he said, grabbing the bottle in the center. you sighed and took the bottle, applying a little on his face before patting it in. "alright! now you're done! clean leon!" you clapped a little, sweetly grinning. althought self care night was not over. you still had two tubs of ice cream, your favorite flavor and leon's favorite flavor, as well as some of the old movies that leon hasn't gotten a chance to watch in forever.

sorry this is like rlly rushed but tbh i just wanted some fluff for leon. i appreciate all reblogs and replies, they mean the world to me tysm:)

leon kennedy masterlist ♡

[miyaagis]

i thought the world of you

bearing the boulder of being an older brother was something he never minded, but now all that's left is the mystery of where his well-intentioned efforts went astray. [ part two ]

+ pairing. older brother!choso / middle sister!reader

+ warnings. incest, non sorcerers au, hurt no comfort, liiiittle bit of smut. mdni 18+

he understood your pain, and at the same time he didn’t. 

‘what did I do wrong?’ he wondered to himself when he saw your eyes brimming with tears, lips wobbly as you flinched away from him. it had been a while since he last saw you like that, teary-eyed and struggling to breathe. after all, it was him who always held you as you cried when you scraped your knee or failed a test.

that’s what older brothers do, and he took pride in it.

but as he tried to reach out again towards you, he frowned upon seeing you take another step away from him.

“what’s wrong?”

the deep gruff of his voice carried traces of annoyance and concern, not liking the way you were acting. he watched you hug your arms around your middle and look away, so unlike you.

“did you get hurt?” he kept pushing, frustration building up as no words left your lips, “talk to me, baby. i’m gettin’ worried.”

you had always been his pretty baby, the first one to ever make his heart warm up with love and care. maybe a bit more than usual, but as long as he saw you beam with that smile of yours, he’d pay no mind to what others thought. all it took was one look at you, and he swore he’d never allow harm to get its claws on you—his baby.

“don’t… don’t call me that.”

he reeked of her, the familiar scent threatening to make you vomit. it was easy for him to tell since you were scrunching up your nose just like you always did whenever you felt sick.

“don’t give me that tone, i’m your older brother.” he switched to an authoritative approach, his usually patient-self growing restless the more you pushed him away, “is this because of last night?”

the mere mention of it had your blood boiling again, the disgusting memories taking over your mind and making your face scrunch up, “why were you doing that with her!? it was our thing.”

“quit acting like a brat,” he sighed, tired already of your tantrum, “let’s go to the kitchen, you’ll wake her up and–”

“i’m leaving.”

the atmosphere suddenly became tense, and he didn’t like that feeling. he’s a man of few words, yes. but those words rendered him speechless in an instant. just how stubborn could you be? maybe he was in the wrong by not giving you a heads-up, he should’ve told you that it would be a matter of time before she got to experience it with him, just like you did when you were her age.  

he could not neglect his other girl, she needed him too. even if he saw how it broke your heart when you caught him whispering words of praise against her lips—the same way he did with you—rolling his hips as his length stretched her walls. her loud cries echoed past the walls of her room, her hold on him tight even when the door opened and showed your shocked face.

he had to dismiss you quickly so it wouldn’t ruin the intimate experience he was giving her, not thinking how it would taint your own instead. and knowing he was the cause of your pain, broke his heart. 

both of his baby sisters deserved his attention, and you had to learn to live with it, there was no other option.

however, you made the decision for him. what better punishment than to make him see he hasn’t been the perfect older brother he thought he was? losing you for sure would have him crawling back to you instead of your sister.

or not.

[eustasskidagenda]

First of all I really really really love ur writing

Can I request a fem reader dating law and they are like sleeping and law starts to have a really bad nightmare where he is hurting his s/or while sleeping? Like ALOT and she tries to walk him up but when she succeeded he already damaged her so much by accident? So he has her blood on his hands and stuff but he wakes up and he doesn't realise it so she just says u had a nightmare and tried to put him back to sleep while she is in pain

And she waits for him to sleep again to go out and treat her wounds BSc she doesn't want him to feel bad for hurting her

But while she is gone he walks up and the bed is empty and there's blood on him and the sheets so he gets out to search for her in panic and gets mad and feels bad etc

Angst angst angst tk fluff please

I love u so much

Hi sweetie! Tysm for your kind words! I love writing angst, but this one was quite a challenge, I had some struggles figuring out some things. But I hope the outcome will still match your expectations! And sorry it takes me some time for this one, I injured my back lately, I can't write for a long time. Anyway, tysm for requesting. ☆

☆Law having a nightmare where he's hurting his s/o

CW : f!reader, angst, hurt to comfort, blood, mention of bullet, spoiler if you haven't read/watched Law's flashback yet, violence, usage of DF 

WC : 1,9k

Low, peaceful breaths. Legs entwined. Your head resting against Law’s tattooed chest and the silence of the cold, starry night. What a rare and beautiful moment. Law often can't sleep. The second you fall asleep, he usually just sighs and sneaks out of the bed. But tonight, his nightmares remained trapped under the pillows, not in his mind. He is beautiful when he can finally be at peace. The tired and dark expression on his face has been gone for a few hours. In his sleep, he looks for your warm touch. Maybe his body is always cold, as his heart is always kept in a cage, but your body is keeping him just warm. That's what you're in his tortured mind; solar. 

He always finds solace in it.

Dark shadows. Screams of pain. Corazon falling on the ground. Bullet sound. 

The night was supposed to be peaceful. It was peaceful just a second ago! Why are those memories haunting his mind again? What has he done to always be harassed with the same dark thoughts? 

Scream. Corazon. Bullet. Scream. Corazon. Bullet. Again and again and again and a… it's endless. Trapped in his own mind, the world around him just disappears. It's just him, facing the ghosts of his past. That's what he gets for daring to fall asleep. How foolish he was to think that his nightmares would leave him alone, just for a few hours.

The shadows are following him in his gloomy, dark world. Why are they trying to kill him? He's not sick anymore. Corazon saved him. He has the right to live. Suddenly, an invisible hand grabs him and squeezes his throat. Tightly. Squirming on the bed, fighting against his own demons, Law breathes harshly. The real world is far away from his nightmares. All he can think about is this hand squeezing his throat. He can't even breathe anymore. But he can't die. Corazon saved his life. He died. Killed by his own brother.

Now, Law has to survive. That's his legacy. The Heart Pirates will beat loudly, etched in memories forever.

The shadows disappear suddenly, just as the squeezing sensation in his throat. A laugh echoes close to his ear. A large figure hovers over him. Pink feather coat, sunglasses, short blond hair, and big, fidgety hands, ready to steal his life again. 

It's him. 

Doflamingo. 

He wants to kill him and steal his fruit. The one that Corazon robbed. No. Law won't let that bastard destroy the sacrifice made by Corazon. Law ferociously punches that damned heavenly demon right in its nose. Maybe he's a doctor, but he can't let this man live. 

All he wants is to make him suffer. 

To make him pay.

So he punches. Again and again. The only thing he can hear is Doflamingo laughing, as he always does, with his sinister, cold grin. "Just die," he shouts, his voice thick with anger and distress. The reality has vanished in his world of suffering. So he fights back. Harder. 

"Law, wake up!" Why the hell is Doflamingo talking with your voice? Is this a fresh trap? This man is the master of manipulation. He can't be tricked again. "Law, please wake up and stay with me!" That soothing hand on his cheek is so soothing. Heavenly soft. Sweat drips down his forehead as he breathes harshly. 

Doflamingo's silhouette fades away as soon as he opens his eyes. "Y/n-ya?" He tries to reach for your cheek in the dark bedroom. That touch, that skin, that warmth. So it's really you. "What happened?" He asks, his voice slightly shaky. He tries to regain his composure, breathing harshly, his heart racing crazily in his chest. "Nothing. You just had a nightmares." 

Law notices a slight tremolo in your voice. "You're alright?" You just run your hand on his cheek. "Why are you asking me this? You're the one in pain. Just go back to sleep. I'm here. Nothing will happen. You're safe in this room." No, but that was too realistic. And he can't fall asleep right away. Not with a heart beating so loudly. Not with the rush of adrenaline. "Law, you have a lot of work tomorrow. Just try to sleep." 

He tried to sleep so many times. It was never successful. However, he lies back as you gently push him against the mattress with your hands on his chest. You gently rub your thumb against his sweaty forehead. With his jaw tensed, Law obeys and closes his eyes, doing as you say. But those dark memories are etched in his eyes. Whenever he tries to sleep, the figure of Doflamingo is painfully present. 

Bullet. Corazon. Sick people crying and begging for mercy. Again and again.

"Just sleep." You whisper, focused on him, only him, despite your own state of distress. You just hope he didn't notice the blood on his hands. The one that flows down your injured nose. It hurts. Mentally and physically. It's difficult to see him so tormented by his own thoughts. You can't let him see what he has done to you; he kicks you and almost strangles you. It wasn't him, right? Law would never lend a hand to you. He would never forgive himself if he found out. You have to preserve him. So you stay. Reassuring him until he finally closes his eyes, too exhausted to stay awake. 

But a few minutes later, he wakes up, his body cold just as your side of the bed. 

"Y/n-ya?" Where have you gone? Why did you leave him alone? Law grabs the candle lamp and the bedroom is lit by a dim light. There's blood on the bed. He doesn't panic at first. But he's confused because he knows your cycle perfectly, you are not supposed to be on your periods. Afterward, he glances downwards. 

Blood. On his hands.

"Y/n-ya?" He suddenly stands out and looks for you. The Polar Tang is not that big. At last, he finds you in the small bathroom, with a cloth on your injured nose. Law looks at his hands, then at your body. There's slight bruises on your skin. That skin he cherishes so much. "What happened?" He already knows the answer, yet he's hoping for a different outcome. "I just hit my nose by accident, don't you worry." 

You're really a bad liar. 

And then, he understands. That wasn't Doflamingo, but you all the time. At first, he can't even speak. He remains there, his mouth partially open and his eyes filled with guilt. As a doctor, he promised to himself to always protect the innocent. His hands exist to heal. Not hurt. Especially not you. You are his precious girlfriend, the one who takes care of him. What have he done to you? Maybe it was a nightmare, maybe it wasn't him, but the outcome is the same. You're in pain because of him.

"I…" he wants to soothe your pain, but he steps back.  What if he harm you again? He glances again at his shaky hands. There's blood on his tattooed fingers. He is disgusted by that sight. "Why didn't you tell me?" He wants to scream, to break something, but he's too confused by the red liquid on his tan skin. He reaches for the washstand and cleans his hands, watching the red turn pink. "You were already in pain" you whisper. "Damn, y/n-ya, look at you! You're bleeding because of me. I…" He struggles to speak in a clear manner. Law has always been logical, but right now he's acting impulsively and emotionally. "I'm so sorry…" tears prickle at the corner of his eyes. "Please… let me… help you…" he's afraid of frightening you. But you just nod and stop to hold the cloth against your nose. 

Law kneels in front of you, looking at your red skin, slight bruises here and there, slightly swollen lips, and broken nose. His hands are trembling. "Shit," he whispers to himself. He tries to inhale deeply. He needs to calm down before he can heal you. And right now, you really need some assistance. "Law, it's alright…" 

Of course, no, it's not okay! "You're in pain because of me, it's not alright!" Law utilizes his devil fruit to cure your broken nose. Gently, he forces you to throw your head back until the bleeding stops. "Wait a second," he whispers before reaching for a wet cloth. After removing all of the dry blood from your face, Law sighs, sits on the ground and remains silent. 

The guilt is harassing his poor mind. Now, when he closes his eyes, there's Doflamingo, Corazon, and his hands are full of your blood. This thought will never leave him alone. 

He's so unworthy. Despite his efforts, he still fails. Over and over. He failed to save his family. He failed to save Corazon. He failed. Again, and again. 

Failure.

"Law, don't overthink, I'm alright." You whisper and wrap your arms around him. Such an irony. You're the one in pain, but you're soothing him by gently running your hands through his hair. "I'm sorry," he repeats once more. "Law, just listen to me… it wasn't you" 

Perhaps, but it was his hands that did it anyway. Exhausted, tired and guilty, Law has lost all of his usual cold expressions. He never looked that fragile, human. You kiss him softly and lovely. Law struggles to kiss you back. He refuses to touch you because he fears hurting you again. "It's okay, I'm not mad at you.  I still love you. We'll get through it." Nervously, he bites his lips. "Are you still in pain?" His eyes are begging you to tell the truth. "I'm not, thanks to you." He exhales with relief. 

"You have to rest. Can you walk?" Even if you nod, Law carries you through the bedroom. He grits his teeth as he sees the blood on the bedsheets. "Wait" He just takes them off and redo the bed with fresh bedsheets. "Now, you can rest." 

While you lay on your bed, Law begins to back away, ready to run to his desk. Nevertheless, you grasp his hand. "Don't run away." You understand that he's simply trying to avoid you. An aloof person like him just doesn't know how to deal with that kind of thoughts. "… Y/n-ya" with a sigh, he complies. That's the least he can do. Law flinches as you lean your head against his tattooed chest, feeling tense and nervous. I have already forgiven you, Law. You have to forgive yourself." 

He simply mumbles. Of course, his tortured mind will never process that quickly. Fine. You'll wait. And you'll stay by his side. You will be the guardian of his peaceful nights. Slowly, you fall right back asleep. Law doesn't shut his eyes, not even for a moment. He stays here until sunrise and finally warms your face. When you wake up, he already left. But there's a fresh drink, some pills, and something to eat on the nightstand. And a short note.

'Please, come find me if you need something. And rest' 

Law is always busy all the day and almost all of the night. And then, he just allows you to 'disturb' him whenever you need him. You can't help but smile. For someone like Law, it's like reading 'I love you' 

Of course he loves you. 

After all, he is the captain of the Heart Pirates.

[moonchildxoxx]

Baby Fever Pt.2

A/N: You are responsible for your own media consumption. MDNI 18+. This was at @eywaseclipse request

Pairing: Tsu'tey x Fem!Omatikaya! Reader,

Word count: 1917

Synopsis: Tsu'tey finding out he’s going to be a father and taking care of his pregnant mate

[Previous] // [Next]

[Request are open]

When the news of her pregnancy reached him, a sense of joy washed over Tsu'Tey; he was going to be a father. He rushed back to her, his excitement palpable. Tsu'Tey wrapped her in his arms, his gaze fixed on her changing body. Her bump was just starting to protrude, but it was enough to fill him with excitement. "I can't believe it." He exclaimed, planting small kisses all over her face. She laughed, Her laughter only served to fill Tsu'Tey with more joy. He continued showering her in small kisses, unable to contain enthusiasm. His hands were gentle as they grazed over her changing body. "Your belly is getting big." He said, as he brushed his fingers along her barley noticeable bump. She was glowing, and he loved it.

“ I won't show for a while Tsu'tey” she said

"I know." He replied, but that didn't take away from his excitement in any way. "I just can't believe it's really happening. We're really going to have a child together." To know that his mate was carrying his child was a joyful revelation. Tsu'Tey couldn't help but look on her with tenderness and pride.

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Fast forward several weeks, and (Y/N) was visibly showing. The signs of her pregnancy were undeniable, and Tsu’Tey's excitement grew with every passing day. The clan eagerly waited for their new addition, as the two of them prepared for the arrival of their child. Tsu'Tey was more protective than ever before, his devotion was at its strongest. Any man who dared to look at his mate for too long or approach her for any reason, felt the sharp edge of his wrath. Though she was still dealing with one unpleasant side effect of the pregnancy. She lay against him feeling a bit sick she was still getting morning sickness.

"Are you feeling alright?" TsuTey asked softly, feeling a rush of concern as he noticed the change in her expression.She had been dealing with some slight nausea as a result of their child's development, and he was always concerned over her health, even more so now that she was carrying his cub. He paused for a moment, allowing her to reply, but he could not help but cradle her a bit tighter as his arms tightened around her. She nodded " I'm fine it'll pass "

"Promise me you will tell me if it gets any worse." TsuTey insisted as his face softened, his tone becoming more caring. He could not risk her pushing herself when she was in such a delicate state. Knowing that she was having a hard time with the nausea made him feel a little helpless, but he wanted to make sure she was comfortable and safe. “ I'm fine " she denied "Are you sure?" He asked again, still concerned, even though she had insisted she was fine. She usually pushed through anything without complaining, so her answer was concerning. He squeezed her and held her a little tighter, his thumb slowly stroking her belly as a gesture of comfort. She nodded softly "Alright." TsuTey finally gave in and chose to believe her. He couldn't stay worried over every little thing.

That said, he would not be deterred from taking care of her and doting on her. His hand continued to trail her stomach, and she could feel his fingers lingering on her belly, lingering on the baby within. She rested against him feeling quite tired. She had become quite tired from carrying their baby, and she often needed a lot of rest. Tsu'Tey was aware that she was not used to feeling this weary, having always maintained a high amount of energy in the past. Even now as they were standing still, he could feel her exhaustion through her body's subtle movements, and he knew that she could not deny her need for rest. "Let's go lie down." Tsu'Tey suggested, his voice low and gentle.

She gave in following him Tsu'Tey guided her over to their sleeping platform, where he helped her onto their bed. He then laid down beside her, taking her into his embrace as his arms wrapped tightly around her. He snuggled her close to him, ensuring her comfort, as his hand continued to trail her growing belly. She fell asleep in no time exhausted . Tsu'Tey stayed beside her, holding her in his arms as he remained awake for a little bit longer. He was aware of her exhaustion as her breathing became more consistent with sleep. He felt a deep sense of contentment at the moment, having her in his arms as they awaited their cub's arrival. It was an overwhelming feeling of joy that he couldn't describe.

She slept for a while until she was woken up by the feeling of throwing up again. Tsu'Tey woke up as he felt her shift. When he realized that she was waking up due to the nausea, he became more alert and attentive. He lifted his head and looked down at her, his brow furrowing with concern at the sight of her face. "Are you okay?" Tsu'Tey asked, trying to keep his tone gentle and reassuring as he sat up a bit, his hand gently rubbing her back.

She immediately grabbed the bowl by the bed dry heaving into it . Tsu'Tey watched her, his face full of worry as she threw up again. He had seen her deal with this before, especially just in the past days, but that did not make him any less concerned for her. He hated seeing her suffering as he hated how helpless he felt. He held her steady as she heaved, rubbing her back gently with his hands to try and alleviate the nausea.

She sighed wiping her mouth "Are you done?" Tsu'Tey asked her gently, his hands still rubbing her back. She nodded " sorry, I rather not have you see me like this.” Tsu Tey's lips narrowed at her words.

The idea of her trying to hide her struggles from him made him feel protective. He knew she was more used to pushing through whatever was thrown at her, but she was carrying his child, so he was not willing to let her do that anymore. His glare was strict as he replied to her, "I don't want you trying to spare me anything. I should be here to support you." She sighed , He was not going to budge when it came to her telling him about her struggles. He was well aware of her stubborn nature, and he knew she would keep things from him until she could no longer bear it. He was not going to let that happen when they were expecting a new life. "Now just lie down. I'm going to grab you some water." Tsu'Tey said to her, making his final stance on the matter.

She gave in He got up from the bed, moving away from her, and went over to their water flasks. He poured a bit of water into one of the cups and carried it back to her, handing it to her.

As he did, he watched her as she drank, hoping that it would help alleviate her nausea and allow her to rest comfortably. She washed her mouth out and drank the rest of the water He watched her, hoping that the water would help take the edge off and help her feel better for a while.

The last thing he wanted was to see her feeling sick like this, so watching her drink the water without throwing it back up immediately provided some relief. She finished the water and laid back down in their bed TsuTey got back into the bed and held her firmly as she lay down, wrapping himself around her. He continued to rub her back gently with one hand, while his other hand lightly trailed her pregnant belly. She yawned closing her eyes again His lips thinned as he saw that she had yawned, her exhaustion becoming more apparent with each passing moment. He knew she would keep trying to push through it, but watching her so tired only reminded him of how vulnerable a position she was in. When she closed her eyes and rested her head against his chest, he could not deny the overwhelming desire to just let her rest and allow himself to become wrapped up in her comfort for the time being.

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The months had passed since she announced the news, and (Y/N) was now six months pregnant with their cub. The prospect of becoming a father filed Tsu'Tey with a sense of joy and wonder. Tsu'Tey lightly trailed the swell of her stomach as he held her from behind, her belly resting within the cradle of his arms. She looked stunning in the way her body was changing to accommodate their child. She was truly the most beautiful woman in the world to him. He felt light movement, The feeling of movement in her belly made him smile. He had felt this a few times before, but it never ceased to amaze him. It filled him with pride and joy to think that he had sired the child that was growing there. He paused in mid-rub for a moment and leaned his head down to her stomach. "The baby is moving." He murmured softly, his tone filled with joy. “He's been moving lots more” she replied He chuckled softly at that. "He seems to be quite active." He had noticed the movement becoming more consistent in the past few weeks, almost as if the baby was impatient to make his arrival. His hands moved back to her belly and resumed gently rubbing.

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Time had passed, and (Y/N) was well into her pregnancy. Tsu'Tey was elated at the sight of her swollen belly each time he saw her.

His hands would often linger on that soft roundness for a little too long, and he couldn't help but give it a soft caress every so often.

Their child's future arrival was on his mind often, and he wanted nothing more than to be a father.

He saw that she had grown so exhausted that she was falling asleep during their meal.

He did not blame her. Pregnancy was not an easy thing for she was having to endure for nine whole months. "Bedtime." He said softly, his voice firm, though filled with concern for her. The idea of her overexerting herself and not taking enough time to rest was causing more worry for every day that passed. She needed sleep, and she needed rest. He would not allow her to overdo things while she was in such a state. She was carrying his cub and needed to focus on taking care of herself. she nodded, he lifted her up into his arms and carried her to their sleeping platform, where he gently laid her down. He then climbed in next to her and wrapped his arms around her, protecting her until she finally gave in to sleep.

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The birth of their child was a momentous occasion for Tsu'Tey. The moment he saw their son, he was overwhelmed with pride and joy. His son was beautiful in every possible way — he had his father's features, and his mother's sweetness. He cradled their son in his arms, and his heart swelled with love as he observed the tiny human that he had helped create. Their child would be the future of their clan, and the hope of their people. Tsu'Tey was filled with adoration and pride.

[jji-lee]

how about something like their s/o loving their mustache look and don't want them to shave?

sorry that this is so late, and that i made it kinda long!!! i added the other part you mentioned too! i spent hours looking at dreamies mustache pics, hope you enjoy! ☺

❥ mark’s facial hair grew back quite quickly, but mark was quicker, shaving off any stubble that made an appearance. but with the recent comeback, having to wake up early and rush to practice and coming home only to eat and sleep, simply wearing a mask outdoors would have to suffice. after a busy couple of weeks you had been dying to see your boyfriend, inviting him over to spend the night. when you finally heard the jingling of the keys you sprung out of bed to greet your boyfriend. as the door opened and you got a look at mark, a dark shadow cast over his lip and light stubble adorned his chin and jawline. you stepped back for a second to admire this new look. mark laughed awkwardly, covering his face, “dude stop staringgg, i didn’t have time to shave i wanted to see you so i just rushed over” you grabbed his hand pulling him towards the couch, “no no no, i’ve just never seen you like this, you look really good markie, you should grow it out more often” you reached up to touch his mustache, smiling at the new feeling. mark was blushing like crazy, maybe some stubble wasn't so bad after all.

❥ renjun almost never grew facial hair, it took months for even the tiniest amount of hair to pop up. so when you went in for a kiss and instead were greeted by an itchy upper lip, you knew you couldn't leave renjun alone about it. you grabbed his face, using your thumbs to run over the tiny stubble that had appeared on renjun's upper lip. "um, babe is this some new tiktok trend you saw, what's going on with you" he pulled your hands off him looking at you with concerned eyes. "junnie you have a mustache! a real actual mustache is growing right now!" he slapped his hand over his mouth, clearly embarrassed by this new revelation. "you're a liar let me go see" he rushed to the vanity gasping when he noticed small hairs beginning to grow. "where's the razor i need this gone right now!" you giggled at your boyfriend's reaction rushing to stop him from removing his hair, "wait no no, i never get to see you like this, leave it, just for today!" renjun let out a sigh knowing he couldn't say no to you, "fine, but i'll make you so sick of my mustache that you'll never want me hairy again" he pressed his upper lip to your cheek rubbing harshly, causing you to push him away "not so nice now, right baby"

❥ jeno was always handsome, but right now how you were seeing him, no makeup, wet hair, towel around his hips, and a slight stubble growing on his upper lip and chin, jeno was godly. "hello? earth to y/n? you're acting like you've never seen me naked" naked? that was the least of your concerns right now, jeno with facial hair was a rare sight only on a night like now, straight after practice and too tired to shave, could you see him like this. jeno gently sat on the bed next to you, reaching out to hold your chin, using it to make you face him, "hey sweet girl, are you ignoring me?" you blinked a couple times still processing the sight in front of you, now much closer, "sorry, sorry, i just, i don't get to see you like this often" you blushed looking away from him. jeno still confused by your reaction, "shirtless? baby we've been dating for years, did my muscles get bigger?" he chuckled at his own comment slightly flexing his biceps. you slapped his arm laughing at his silly movements, "no jen, your mustache, you look so handsome like this." now it was jeno's turn to blush, eyes growing wide at the realization that your focus was on his stubble. he reached up to cover his face, "sorry i need to get new batteries for my razor" you pulled his hands away from his face leaning towards him to plant a kiss on his chin stubble, "don't worry about it, you look really good like this puppy."

❥ haechan hated that his facial hair grew back so quickly. he'd shave at night and the next morning a shadow would be cast over his lip and on his chin, hair already growing back. but what he hated more was how you avoided him when he did have facial hair. what he didn't know is that you loved seeing haechan with facial hair. haechan had been busy, his razor laying cold and alone on the bathroom counter, his mustache and chin hair dark and prominent. as he joined you in bed, pulling you by your waist to face him, you tried you best to not ogle at your boyfriend's facial hair, looking anywhere but his face. he noticed you avoidant gaze, reaching up to force you to look at him, "do you really dislike my mustache that much, you can't even look at me baby?" heat began to rise to your face, finally fully looking at your beautiful boyfriend, "wha-what, of course not! i- i actually think i like it a little too much" your hand reached up hesitantly to brush against his chin hair. haechan was more than pleased with your response, leaning into your touch, "oh my baby, why didn't you just say so, had me nervous thinking you hated my hair," "no! i could never hate your facial hair, it's, it's actually a really good look on you" he smiled wide, an idea popping into his head, "well, i will definitely be throwing my razor away" he leaned his face closer to you rubbing his prickly chin against your neck, laughing when you tried pushing him away, "hyuck please, that tickles!"

❥ jaemin could not believe what he was seeing. he had been going through your phone trying to find an image of lucy, luke, and luna to send it to himself when he stumbled upon a photo of himself. actually, not a photo, a whole folder titled, 'nana no shave,' he had to give it to you, it was clever, but the countless pics of him with stubble was not just shocking, but concerning. jaemin had no idea that you had liked his stubble so much, let alone have a collection of pictures of it. he decided to put your love for his mustache to the test, letting it grow out for a week. he had been relaxing on the couch watching a drama you had recommended when from the corner of his eye he sees you quickly holding your phone up ready to take a picture, but he was quicker reaching across the couch to snatch your phone from you, "aha, i finally caught you, you were taking pics of my stubble weren't you!" he pointed his finger at you, you sat there shocked that you had been discovered, not knowing that jaemin had caught on to your hidden obsession, you weren't ashamed though, "yeah, and what if i was, what are you gonna do about it jaem?" his shoulders sagged his lips forming a pout, "huh, well i guess nothing" his shoulders perked up again, a smirk on his lips "but stop taking hidden pictures of me! next time just ask me princess, i'll give you all of my mustache pics"

❥ chenle loved to annoy you with his stubble. Every opportunity he got to rub his prickly cheek against yours he would take it. you would always push him away, pretending that you were annoyed by his actions, when in reality you loved to see chenle with his stubble. today was no different. chenle was on week two of no shaving, stubble having grown significantly. you were laying in bed scrolling through your phone when you felt the bed sink next to you, your very hyper boyfriend ready to interrupt you relaxation, "hi lele, is there anything i can help you with?" all you heard was, "nope" before your phone was snatched from your hands and your boyfriend was hovering over you grinning widely, "like my mustache baby?" he wiggled his eyebrows at you struggling to hold back his giggles. you reached up to rub your fingers against his stubble, gently pulling at the hair, "actually, yes i do like your little mustache, makes you look handsome," chenle froze for a second shocked by your sudden confession and then a frown formed on his face, "no fair, if you like it how am i supposed to annoy you now!" he leaned down to rub his cheeks against yours causing you to squirm under his hold. you giggled at him trying to push him away. He sat up, straddling you, "see you're enjoying this, i need a new plan now!"

❥ jisung would not be caught dead with stubble in front of you. the relationship was relatively fresh, he had confessed in june and by august you two were going steady. now it was the start of november and jisung still didn't feel ready to let you see his facial hair grow out, yes it was normal but what if you hated it? that's why when you came up to him asking him to participate in 'no hair november' proudly showing him your week build up of armpit hair, he was hesitant. but god you looked so pretty like this, bushy brows and prickly legs, so what could be the harm in growing some hair himself? it took 4 days for jisung's stubble to finally appear. when he looked in the mirror and saw the light shadow on his chin he was nervous to go and show you, but you beat him to it, his phone rang loudly, your contact name, 'my star💫' shining on him screen. when he picked up your smiling face appeared on the screen, "ji baby look at how much my hairs grown!" you pointed the camera at you legs showing off how the stubble has turned into soft leg hair. jisung smiled warmly at your happiness forgetting that his face was on screen, "oh my goodness sungie look at that stubble!" he quickly moved the camera, only showing his forehead on the screen, "ahh stop it, it's embarrassing" he heard you giggle, "you look so good sung, and it's for a good cause, show it off!" you saw the the camera slowly pan out, his full face coming into view, a shy smile on his face, you were definitely going to start hiding his razor from him.

[b-00-biez]

Hii! I was wondering if you could maybe write something along the lines of "slashers with an s/o who thinks they're not enough for them and starts distancing themselves" maybe not that long but something of the sort :) this is my first ever ask so I do apologise if I can't quite get my thought across. :)

Slasher with an S/o that distance themselves

Characters: Bo Sinclair, Patrick Bateman, Brahms heelshire, Thomas Hewitt, Ghostface

Bo Sinclair

You were staring at the mirror too long looking at your body

pinching your imperfections and flaws

This has been going on for some time now and bo doesnt really realize it

You locked yourself in the shared room, refused sex and even slightly avoided him when hes around

He was pissed

"Sweetheart come here we need to talk."

With a stern voice he sits you on his lap and embraces you

He asks you what's going on in your lil mind and why have you been avoiding him for the past weeks

You started to tear up and tremble as you tell him you're not good enough for him, that you always mess up and you're not like the girls in his magazines ( yeah i believe he has a stash of magazines hidden like a perv 😭)

He coos at you hugging you tighter as he rocks you on his lap

"Darling, you're all what this big pervert needs, now give me some sugar"

He kissed your cheek lovingly nothing like youd expect from this sly man

Patrick Bateman

This man has girls all over him , flirting with him cause he is absolutely handsome

Although he completely ignores them

You started to feel

insecure

All the girls were hot and corvy and youre you

Well thats what you thought, after a few months you started to distance yourself hoping that maybe he would find someone "better"

One night you wake up to your door ringing nonstop and when you check the peep hole you see your boyfriend standing there with 100 roses, neatly in a bouquet as he was dressed nicely

You opened your door slowly just putting your face out, he noticed you crying cause of your swollen eyelids.

He handed you the flowers and held you which felt like it lasted an hour

"Darling I know you aren't feeling well and I'd like to take you on a little date to show how much i truly love you. Will you accept it?"

He kissed your hand while grabbing gently at your waist

Brahms Heelshire

All he talked about was Greta and how she looked pretty unlike any other

And even after you were in a relationship with him you felt... ignored

You wanted to scream at him how youre here and that shes gone

but instead you neglected your duties as a nanny and locked yourself in your room for more than 3 days

Although you feel eyes watching you through the walls, you didnt care to budge

Until he kicked the door open.

He was tired of you neglecting him as he stared at you in anger

His eyes softened seeing you balled up in your bed sniffling and whimpering

First he thought you were sick as he checked whether you were hurt or not

But when you couldnt stop crying he left leaving you some space then he came back

with a little toy he cherished as a boy

"I'm sorry, I hope you feel better. Heres my toy maybe youll feel better holding it. It worked when i was sad" he said in his childish voice

He gently caressed your head as he repeatedly said in a warm voice "I love you"

Thomas Hewitt

Hoyt made you feel like a piece of shit

Every night and day he would remind you that you were easily replaceable and you're just like a little pet that even if you die. Thomas will find someone else

That was far from what you experienced with Thomas when he holds you gently in his arms something he wouldn't do with any other victim

But nevertheless Hoyt's bullying got the best of you

Even doing chores and even at dinner youd avoid thomas, as you said youd be eating somewhere else or you werent hungry

Hoyt was snickering and scoffing at your petty behavior as he exclaimed to Thomas that he should kill you for not being "family"

Before Thomas could break his brittle neck you stopped him with shaky hands on his shoulder

You marched back up to your shared bedroom and sulk

He would pick up on this newly found behavior as he confronts you when everyone else was asleep

Once you tell hime how you felt he caressed your cheeks looking at you with sad eyes then cuddles you in bed trying his best to comfort you.

Ghostface

He was getting way too close to a girl

Although in his part he was just befriending her to kill her sooner

But thats before you knew your boyfriend's little hobby of his

You would ignore him at school, lunch even ghosting him in text and when he would go to your house you would just lock the door and tell your parents that you werent in the mood to talk to him

One afternoon when your parents were away you were watching the news

The girl he was with was killed that night

Afraid of who might it be thinking it must be someone at your school

You hear the doorbell rang

Seeing a guy in a mask you felt shivers down your spine as you answered the door you heard a familiar voice

"Hey baby, I felt you were a bit jealous so i killed her sooner. So don't be mad at me hm? My eyes and attention are only for you babe."

As he slowly gave you the dead girl's hand and slipped her ring onto yours

[trumanbluee]

hi girlie ! could i please request james x reader, with him being nervous about asking popular!reader to the yule ball ? ily 🫶🏼

love this idea so much! thank u for sending it in ily 🫰

about time - james potter

word count: 1178

warnings: not edited but other than that just jamie being a cutie pie!

a/n: thank u sm for the request !!! im so sorry it took so long i wasn't expecting to be so busy :( i hope you like it !! 🩷

It wasn’t often that James got visible anxious because of someone. Sure, Minnie had her days where she’d shoot him a stern look and he’d shrink back into his seat in class, and Moony had him walking on eggshells when it was approaching the full moon, but with you it was different. 

You’d never done anything but be sickeningly sweet to him, always smiling and waving hello when you walked past him in the hallway, and giving him tips when you were paired together in potions. 

James saw the upcoming Yule Ball as the perfect opportunity to finally ask you out. He’d been saying he would for months now, and quite frankly Remus and Sirius were getting sick and tired of hearing about it. There’s only so many times they can tell him, ‘she obviously likes you, mate’, before his insecure denial becomes unbearable to hear, as much as they love the guy.

Normally, like with Lily Evans, who he’d been forced to move on from after she’d come out as a lesbian and started dating Mary Macdonald, James would have no qualms in simply going up to a girl he thought was pretty and asking her out – usually on a clandestine trip to Honeydukes, he would always beg Moony and Padfoot to let him borrow the map. 

But with you, it was different. You were so, insanely, beautiful. Just your face was enough to stop James in his tracks, a hand placed over his ever-quickening heartbeat. 

However, your beauty wasn’t the issue. Well, it wasn’t the reason James found it difficult to function like a normal human being around you. That’s because you’re just so lovely. Though, ‘lovely’ doesn’t even begin to describe the way you light up the room whenever you walk into it, or the way your laughter pangs the heart of everyone who is lucky enough to hear it or, even luckier, the reason for it.

James had been lucky to be that reason many a time, usually not of his own volition, with you somehow always catching him doing something silly -- like that time you were walking to Potions and rounded the corner just in time to see him slip on some unknown substance on the floor. He’d yelped like a wounded animal, and you’d doubled over in laughter (not before helping him up and asking if he was okay, of course).

With the Yule Ball quickly approaching, he realised he was limited for time to ask you to be his date. Remus and Sirius had been trying to encourage him for weeks, with Remus, always the voice of reason, saying: “Mate, I have never seen you look at a girl like you do her, please just ask her out for our own sanity.”

Sirius, unable not to, chimed in with: “Yeah, what’ve you got to lose, Prongs? The worst thing she can say is no.” causing Remus to groan and shove him roughly.

“Don’t be a git, our Jamie needs help,” he cooed playfully, turning his attention back to James, who sat in front of the fire, playing nervously with a stray thread on Remus’s sweater he’d stolen earlier that day.

“Honestly, mate, I reckon you should ask her. I hate to agree with Pads on anything, but what’ve you got to lose?”

So, with encouragement from Lily and Mary, who had both been pretending to read in the lounge while listening to James’ turmoil, he decided he was going to pluck up the courage and finally ask you out. 

For once, James was thankful for potions class. He'd been paired up with you at the start of the semester, Slughorn -- the cheeky bugger -- sending him a sly wink when he'd read your names out from his list.

The class was loud -- mostly with Sirius's complaining about not having a clue what he's doing, followed by a loud groan from Remus -- when James nervously slid his stool closer to where you stood, peering into the cauldron as you stirred it. He tapped your shoulder with his pointer finger, asking for your attention, before resting his chin on his palm.

You turned to him, smile already creeping onto your face simply from his proximity.

"D'ya have a date to the ball yet?" he mumbled into his hand, eyes looking anywhere but you, focusing intently on the bubbling potion.

"Mmh? Jamie, what did you say?" you ask sweetly, placing the spoon down to balance on the rim of the cauldron.

"Y'know I can't understand what you say when you talk into your hand like that," you giggle.

He huffs, sitting up straighter on his chair, pushing his glassed up his nose -- a nervous tick you'd noticed him do often when he was talking to you.

"I just asked if -- do you have a date to the ball?"

You hear him this time, and a grin grows on your lips. You cross your arms and playfully look down your nose at him.

"Are you asking me to go with you, James?"

He's shocked at your abruptness, fidgeting in his chair uncomfortably.

"Well, I just, if you haven't been asked alr-"

You cut him off, "- you don't think I've been ask yet? Am I not pretty enough to be asked to the ball, James?"

You're playing with him, but he's too nervous to realise. You'd feel bad, maybe, if he and his little friends hadn't dyed your hair bright green just before the last fancy dress event Hogwarts had held.

He's bright red now, frustrated with himself and embarrassed.

"No, no, no, no!" he mumbles, "I just, I wanted to know if there was any point in asking you now because you -- uhm, you probably already have a date and it's stupid, I shouldn't have left it so long to ask you ou-"

He's pulled out of his ramblings by your hand over his mouth, thumb under his chin to physically stop him from speaking. He looks up at you to see you smiling brightly back at him, eyes glistening. The potion is long forgotten by now.

"Jamie," you giggle, removing your palm from his face, "I would love to go to the ball with you, silly boy. No need to get all worked up."

His jaw would've fallen open had he not willed it not to. He couldn't believe that you'd actually said yes. He could've kissed you right where you stood.

You laugh at his expression, brows furrowed in surprise and lips curled into the biggest smile you'd ever seen on the boy.

You cup his cheeks in both your hands, "I wish you'd have asked sooner, I felt silly turning down all these other guys when you hadn't even asked me yet." You smiled at him fondly, releasing his face and pecking his cheek softly, "Thanks Jamie."

You skip off, ponytail bouncing up and down with your steps, probably going to try and convince Slughorn that the potion went bad of its own volition, and James hopes you don't catch the whooping of his friends as they envelope him in cheers and high-fives.

[bradshawsbitch]

"were you ever going to tell me?" ft. our sweet hangy and maybe a secret pregnancy/baby? 👀

oh, spicy! I like it👀 I hope I did it justice 🫣

warnings: mentions of piv sex, minors dni, pregnancy, wanting to be a mother, afab!reader, mentions of doctors

description: Hangman had a spicy night with his fwb before a long employment, and he left them with a little gift.

It hadn’t been meant to happen this way. You and Jake had been friends with benefits for quite some time now, and you’d had the most delicious encounter just before he was deployed for 6 months. It had been a drunken hookup, but Hangman had seemed more frenzied than previous times, more passionate, more… sweet, too.

It had almost thrown you off, until he’d hoisted your leg high on his shoulder and driven himself harder and deeper into you, making you lose all semblance of stringent thoughts.

Looking back on that night made your face heat up, not only because it was so fucking hot - but because you’d practically whimpered, begged and whined for him to cum in you. He’d been so into it, almost growling as he fucked you harder to chase his relief, wanting to empty himself in you. ‘Leave you with a little something to remember him by until next time’ he’d said. Well, fuck, the man was good. Too good. Leave you with something to remember him by, he certainly did.

It had been weeks since you’d stared at that little plus sign for the first time, and you had no idea what you were supposed to do. You had always dreamt of becoming a mother, ever since you could remember. You had always been the maternal type, the one to take care of people. You sometimes wondered if that’s why Jake liked you. You took care of him even when he insisted he didn’t need it - funny thing was you thought that perhaps Jake needed it the very most. Someone who cared for him through it all, someone who saw through that cocky, self-assured persona he put on. You knew he could be a sweetheart, when he wanted to. When he was cradled in your arms after your encounters, practically purring as you played with his hair - letting him fall asleep on your chest.

Chewing on your bottom lip as you laid on your back, staring at the sterile fluorescents at the doctors office at your second check in on the baby. There had really not been a choice at all for you, that baby was yours whether Jake wanted it or not - which may be a selfish thought. Even though you saw a sweet side to Hangman, he didn’t exactly seem the type to settle down with kids anytime soon. You grumbled to yourself, closing your eyes as you tried to remember what he’d murmured that night before he’d left. It had sounded so tender, as he’d stroked your hair - but you had been so drunk, so tired, so fucked out that you couldn’t comprehend what he was saying.

Contacting Jake at this point was close to impossible - you didn’t know his mail address (who used email as a form of communication to anything non work related?), you knew from previous deployments that he seldom ever checked his phone - probably something along the lines of needing to be focused on being the top 1% type good or something as his reason not to check it. So that’s why you were by yourself, checking up on your baby. You subconsciously let your hand rest on you bump to soothe yourself. You couldn’t kid yourself, you wanted nothing more than for Jake to want this kid as much as you did. You wanted him to want you both.

So that’s how it went. You made it through countless morning sicknesses by yourself, you cried to Notting Hill on your own, and tried to socialise as you normally would - never answering any prying questions. Jake was due to be home any day now, which meant that your belly was too big to hide, 6 months to be exact. You’d sent him a text, telling him that it was important you guys meet. You’d told him to meet you at your apartment at his earliest convenience. His winky smile emoji back almost made you roll your eyes. God, the poor boy had no idea.

You nerves were shot to hell, feeling nauseous at the thought of how Jake would react. How were you supposed to tell him? Should you try hiding behind the biggest damn hoodie you had? Should you sit with a blanket covering you? Or should you just answer the door belly first and watch him run to the hills? God, why hadn’t you even tried calling him? Pushing this stuff on future you wasn’t fair.

Closing your eyes, you took a shaky breath as you tried to steady yourself. You could feel your heart beat erratically in your chest, and soon after felt a flutter from your little baby - which made happy tears brim your eyes. At least you had your little sprog with you. As you were soothing the baby by brushing your hand over your swollen stomach, the door cracked shut and you heard Jake’s upbeat tone say “Honey, I’m home! You better be undressed for me,” god, your breath stuttered in your throat as he appeared in your living room.

He must’ve noticed that you looked stricken with anxiety, because he furrowed his brows, walking quickly over to you to kneel in front of you.

“Princess, what’s wrong?” He sounded so concerned, the tears that brimmed your eyes fell down your cheeks. “Hey, baby, it’s okay, Jakey’s here” he smiled at you. God, you were about to ruin his trust for you completely.

“I-I…” you started, but the words wouldn’t come - your breathing was becoming more shallow, coming in quick bursts, terrified of how he would react. Jake tried to calm you down, but you just shook your head as more tears fell. You felt as Jake took hold of your hands, wanting to hug you properly, and you kept your gaze locked on the floor as you let him help you up to a standing position - where there was no hiding how your top strained against your belly. You didn’t see Hangman’s eyes flowing wide open, but you did hear his gasp as he let go of your hands in shock.

“Princess…” he whispered, you couldn’t look at him, “is… is it mine?” He knew it was, but the question slipped past his lips before he could stop himself. Your nod and sniffle had his heart aching in his chest.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” he almost let out a breathless laughter. He’d been gone six months. Radio silence. You were crying in earnest now, looking up to meet his eyes.

“Jake, I’m so sorry. I know I should’ve tried to contact you, but I was so scared. I want her so much, and I was afraid you wouldn’t want her - or me, and- and I was so frightened. And I will do this on my own if- if you don’t want to. I understand” you were holding your belly, as if to protect yourself.

“H-her?” Jake sucked in a deep breath “I need to sit down” he confessed, plopping down on your couch. He hadn’t taken into consideration that he’d be face to face with your stomach as he sat down. Face to face with his daughter. You were still standing, tears streaming down your eyes as you apologised again. Jake shook his head slowly as he looked up at you, you held your breath - you could tell that the verdict was about to fall.

His large palm slowly rose, and he looked at you expectantly as it hovered over the centre of your bump. You nodded nervously, and his warm hand splayed across your belly - the sensation overwhelming. As soon as Hangman’s hand came in contact with your body, your little baby decided to say hello to her dad - kicking right where his hand was. Jakes eyes widened again, looking up at you with the most precious look on his face.

“She likes you,” you smiled through your tears, and Jake groaned, bringing you closer to him, his face buried in your stomach as his arms embraced you tight.

“And I love her,” he replied, kissing your stomach over and over again. “And I’ve already told you this, but I love her mommy too,” he looked up at you, his beautiful green eyes brimmed with tears. And he looked enamoured, happy, elated - even. You were sobbing now, and Jake stood up.

“My sweet, sweet Princess - I’m sorry you had to do this all by yourself,” his voice held remorse, and he found that he’d wanted to be here all the way through. Had wanted to help you when things got rough. You sobbed into his shoulders, body shaking with relief.

“Y-you want her? You want us?” You blubbered in disbelief.

“My sweet girl, do you not remember what I said before I left?” Jake murmured, stroking your face and placing a sweet kiss to your lips.

“I said that I was planning on taking you on a proper date when I got home, because I was pretty sure I’d fallen in love with you,” he confessed with a grin. You grinned back, leaning up to kiss him again.

His hands never left your stomach, stroking your belly lovingly as you talked. “God, I’m going to be a dad,” he spoke suddenly, his voice filled with pride and love. But suddenly his brows furrowed slightly.

“Princess, as hot as you are pregnant - from now on you can’t call me daddy in bed.”

[azrielsdove]

Love and Loss: Ch.10

Warnings: Angst, Smut

Ch.9 Here | Final Ch Here

***

What? Your body stilled under Azriel’s hold, mind racing. You felt anger, joy, sadness, and frustration all at once. Did Rhysand know? Did Azriel know all this time? Why did the bond never snap before? None of it made any sense and was all too much, pressing hard on your chest until you thought you’d break under the weight of it.

You pushed Azriel off of you, breathing heavy. “Have you known?” You demanded, hands shaking at your side. He shook his head ever so slightly, eyes still dark with lust. You understood that his instincts were telling him to go to you, be with you, but you needed answers before anything else happened.

“I didn’t. I always felt drawn to you, yes, but I did not think it was a mating bond. Especially not once you were married.” His hands clenched into tight fists. “He told me during our fight.” You run your hands over your face, taking a deep breath.

“This isn’t the first time i’ve made you food, Az. Why did nothing ever happen before?” You were going to be sick. Was this another thing Rhysand had ripped away from you? Your mate had been in front of you all this time, just out of your grasp.

Azriel shrugged, moving to stand behind the table. As if putting distance between the two of you would help his instincts. “It hadn’t snapped for either of us then.” His fingers dug into the wood in front of him as he forced his gaze away from you.

You could feel it now, that subtle pull towards Azriel. Perhaps it had always been there, maybe you’ve always known. You wiped your hands on your dress, turning around to the counter behind you. You wanted to scream, you wanted to cry, you wanted to laugh out loud at the absurdness of it all. Five centuries wasted with a male who had done nothing but play you, when your cauldron-fated mate was right there. He was always there. He has always been there.

You gave a frustrated shout and slammed your hands on the countertop. “Get him out of here,” you ground out to Cassian, teeth clenched. You didn’t look back at Azriel’s shout, you ignored the sounds of fighting as Cassian forced him away from you. You knew it wasn’t right to take your emotions out on him, but you couldn’t jump straight into the mating bond after all of this. After how betrayed you had been by the male who owned your heart before him. You sunk down to the floor of the kitchen and buried your face in your hands. Rhysand had been the supposed love of your life, the star of your heart. While you couldn’t deny the feelings you felt growing for Azriel, were you truly ready to trust someone like that again? You were completely devoted to your husband for so long, never even thinking he would hurt you the way he had. Would Azriel be the same? Would he grow tired of you? After the novelty of finally getting the girl wore off, would he realize this wasn’t truly what he wanted?

You could argue the mating bond answered those questions for you, but you knew as well as any that a mating bond didn’t mean everlasting love. Azriel may be happy now, but were centuries of waiting for you worth it? How is it fair that Rhysand gets to be blessed and happy, when he has quite possibly destroyed any chance at your own happiness? A small cough broke you out of your thoughts, and you looked up to see a disheveled Cassian standing in the entryway.

“I gave him a sleeping draught,” he said, wincing at the admission. “I wasn’t sure what else to do. Tearing a freshly mated male away from his mate is no small feat.” You nodded, feeling guilty for putting Cassian in this position.

“I’m sorry, Cass. I just don’t know what to do.” You felt hopeless, lost in a wide sea of emotion. He came over to you, sitting next to you on the floor.

“What’s stopping you?” The question was simple, but oh so complicated.

“What if he realizes I wasn’t worth waiting for all this time? What if he leaves me like Rhys?” You felt small, broken. Cassian pulled you into his arms, tucking you tight against him.

“Don’t speak like that. What Rhysand has done is truly evil.” He sighs deeply. “I’ve spent my life with them, and Azriel is a true honest male. I am confident he would rather die than ever hurt you.” That made you feel worse. You were punishing Azriel for how Rhysand had treated you.

“Why does he get to live happily after what he’s done?” It wasn’t really a question, and you certainly weren’t expecting Cassian to answer.

“I’ve been looking into it, going over any of the laws I can think of.” You sat straight up and looked at him, eyes wide. You often forget that he was the General of the Night Court, that his easy-going humorous attitude hid a deeply intelligent male. “What Rhysand has done unfortunately isn’t illegal in any way, though I wish it were. The other courts already see him as the most despicable male, so they wouldn’t be surprised by how he’s acted.” You sunk a little, knowing what he said was correct. “Also, if there were laws against High Lords being unfaithful or terrible to their wives half the courts would be without one.” He shook his head in disgust. You agreed, knowing all too well how some of the other High Lords chose to act.

“What am I to do, Cass? The Night Court is my home, my life. Azriel’s career is here. How am I supposed to remain here and respect him as my High Lord?” You looked down at your hands, overwhelmed. You loved your home here, but was it enough to overshadow the pain Rhysand had left? Cassian squeezed you tighter.

“Maybe we begin to look at different courts.” You looked up at him in shock, a small smile on his face.

“We?” Certainly he couldn’t mean-

“Yea. All of us. You, me, and Az. I won’t stay here without him.” You pulled away from him, staring at him as if he just said he created the ground you walk on.

“Y-you’re the general of the Night Court, you can’t leave! Azriel is his spymaster, will it not be some form of treason if you desert?” This was all too much. Cassian gave you an encouraging smile and nudged your shoulder with his.

“You’re allowed to leave the court you were born into. Besides, I don’t think I can trust Rhysand any longer. He isn’t the brother I once knew. He probably never was.” You felt tears in your eyes for the millionth time as you flung your arms around your friend.

“Oh Cass, how I love you.” He hugged you back, laughing lightly before pulling away.

“You better go find Azriel. I don’t think that sleeping draught will last long, and i’m certain he will be searching for you as soon as he can stand.” He winked at you as you rolled your eyes. The two of you stood and you gave him one last quick hug.

“Thank you, Cass. For everything.”

***

You found Azriel still asleep in his bed, although he looked far from peaceful. His eyes were fluttering and he was twitching in his sleep, likely trying to get out of the spell and to you. You sat next to him on the bed and ran your hand through his hair. His body instantly settled, your touch all he needed. You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face at that.

“My lovely Shadowsinger,” you cooed, continuing the stroking of his hair. Your heart sung for him, a possessive need to keep him as yours. You studied his face carefully as he slept, taking in his strong features. There was a vulnerability about him right now, a rawness that you didn’t see very often. He stirred and his eyes cracked open, the too-alert stare a bit jarring. He sat up and moved as if to pull you close before deciding against it, clasping his hands tight in his lap.

“He drugged me.” You couldn’t help but laugh at his incredulous tone. Azriel shot you a glare that quickly turned into a smile as he took you in. “You’re here. Are you…okay?”

You tugged one of his hands out of his lap, holding it tight. “I am more than okay. How are you feeling?” His eyes dragged up and down your body, the mating lust visible in them.

“Uh, I’m…good.” He cleared his throat, tearing his gaze away from you. “Is this what you want?” Your heart broke at the uncertainty of his voice. You squeezed his hand to get him to look back at you.

“You are everything I want.” You leaned forward and kissed him, stopping him from saying anything further. There would be time for talking later.

He groaned into your mouth and his hands moved to wrap around you, pulling you into his lap. You adjusted your legs to sit on either side of his hips, rocking gently down onto him. His nails dug into your waist at the action, a warning to not tease him. You felt like you could come undone just like this, everywhere your body touched Azriel’s was on fire. The effect he had on you was like nothing you had ever experienced. His hands ran down to your thighs, thumbs rubbing circles on the bare skin there. You ground down on him again, needing to feel him as much as you could. He growled, a hand slapping one of your thighs. You gasped at the stinging pleasure, especially as he repositioned his hand over the mark and squeezed.

He pulled away from your lips, pressing harsh kisses down your neck. “Please don’t rush me when I have waited so long to have you.” Your head tipped back at his words, allowing him more access to you. One of his hands moved to fan across your back, pressing your body tight against his. You were going to burn alive under his touch.

The hand on your thigh pushed up under your nightgown, fingers tracing the edges of your underwear. They moved like he was trying to memorize your body, like you were an art piece he’d never see again. His lips came back up to yours, a burning kiss that said all the words he had kept secret all this time. He poured the love he felt for you straight into your soul, healing you from the inside out. Azriel’s love wrapped around you like a warm blanket, strong and secure. You wrapped your arms tight around his neck and pulled him even closer, wanting him to feel the same way you did.

His fingers carefully slid beneath your underwear, sliding through the wetness that had gathered there. He groaned appreciatively as he felt you, making sure to touch every inch of you available to him. “Az, don’t tease,” you murmured out against his lips, desperate for him. You felt him smile against you as two fingers pushed slowly inside, curling once he was at his deepest. One of your hands slid hold his face as you gasped out in pleasure, the feeling of Azriel touching you overwhelming. His thumb moved to circle your clit, applying delicious pressure in time with the pumping of his fingers. You were coming undone much too quickly, his name slipping past your lips in helpless moans.

“That’s my good girl.” His words were punctuated with a particularly deep thrust of his fingers, curling perfectly where you needed him too. You began riding his hand, following the pleasure burning in your stomach. He matched your pace exactly, already perfectly in tune with what you needed. You felt that tight burning in your stomach, knowing you were on the edge. “That’s it,” Azriel whispered, fingers moving beautifully. “Cum for me.”

You threw your head back as the pleasure rushed over you, mouth open in a silent scream. He helped you through it, stilling his movements once you looked back at him. You wasted no time in reattaching your lips, the desire for him even stronger than it was. He flipped the two of you so you laid flat under him, hovering over your body. He began pressing a trail of kisses down your neck and chest, hands ripping the top of your nightgown apart. The tattered fabric against your skin felt sinful, made you feel like the epitome of desirable. Azriel’s lips down your body only enhanced the feeling, that you were the most divine being.

He reached the silk covering you, tearing it off of you much like your gown. You sucked in a breath at the rush of cold air against you, looking down to watch him study you. “Gorgeous,” he breathed, nose hitting your clit as he moved down. You jumped, still sensitive from the orgasm he had just drawn from you. His hands came to rest on your thighs, holding you open for him. His eyes darted up to catch yours as tongue began to explore you. You forced your gaze to remain on him, one hand coming to tangle in his hair. The way Azriel’s tongue moved against you, inside you, had your mind go blank. All you knew was him.

You arched off the bed and threw your head back as he sucked at your clit, fingers dropping back down to resume their movement inside of you. Your other hand moved down to grip onto his head as well, trying desperately to ground yourself. Azriel touched you in a way no one had before, as if he worshipped every second he got to spend between your legs. To him it was a privilege to have this time with you, not an expectation.

Your body began to shake at the sensations he was pulling from you, a second orgasm coming in quick. You squeezed your thighs tight against his head, knowing it would all be over far too soon. You screamed as you came, entire universes exploding behind your eyes. Azriel didn’t let up as your orgasm died down, keeping the same rhythm he had built. You whimpered at the overstimulation, legs shaking around his head. He hummed against you, encouraging you to keep going. Pathetic cries fell from your lips as he worked your body, refusing to give up a second of your pleasure.

Tears slipped from your eyes as you came again, his name the only thing you knew. “Azriel, Azriel, Azriel!” You chanted as wave after wave of mind-numbing pleasure washed over you. He helped you through it, stopping once he was sure you were satisfied. He moved back up to your face, brushing the tears away and pressing a light kiss to your lips.

“Can you take one more?” He asked, his only goal that you feel as good as possible. You nodded, mind still too frazzled for words. He smirked at your dumbed down state, pleased with himself. He leant down and kissed you again, tongue twirling with yours. You tasted yourself on him, desire burning in you once more. Your hands fell to the hem of his shirt, tugging it up enthusiastically. He pulled away to help take it off, discarding his pants and underwear as well. Your jaw dropped at the size of him, standing tall against his stomach. You reached a hand out to touch, Azriel stopping you. “I won’t last. I want to finish inside you.” Gods. He was going to be your final undoing.

He pulled the ripped gown off your body, leaving you both bare to each other. The two of you took a breath, both memorizing the look of the other. He was a god amongst fae, a deadly Illyrian soldier, the Shadowsinger. Rhysand may be more powerful, but the raw strength of Azriel was unlike anyone else. And he was yours.

You looped your arms back around his neck and kissed him again, love radiating from you. His hands came to rest on your waist as he pushed you back down, lips never leaving yours. You felt him run his tip down you, collecting the wetness there. He gently pushed at your entrance and your legs fall open to welcome him. “Are you ready?” He asked, pulling his lips off yours to look at you.

“Yes. Please, Az.” He pressed his forehead to yours and pushed in, twin gasps coming from both of you. Oh, he was delicious. He sunk deep into you, knocking the breath out of you with the sheer size of him. He paused when he was all the way in, feeling you adjust around him. You pushed your hips up against his, desperate for him to move. He hissed between his teeth before pulling almost all the way out and then thrusting back in. You arched against him, nails digging into his back. He hit every spot inside of you, fitting like he was made for you. Perhaps because he was.

You felt him holding back from unleashing himself on you, and you refused to have that. You ran one hand along his wing, leaning up to whisper in his ear. “Fuck me proper, Azriel.” He cursed at your words, head bowing down to rest on your shoulder. He wasted no time in fucking into you, hands digging hard into your hips. You screamed his name as he thrusted in and out, head falling back against the pillow. He bit harshly into your shoulder, tongue soothing the marks he left. You cried out, already on the edge for him again. He pounded into you over and over, the force of his hips against yours making you certain you would bruise tomorrow.

His rhythm began to go sloppy and he tensed up, close to his finish as well. His fingers came to circle your clit again, forcing you to fall off with him. He shouted for you as he came, your matching cry of his name as you followed. You squeezed tight around him, pulling every drop of his cum from his body. You could stay lost in this pleasure with Azriel for the rest of your life and be completely happy.

You breathed hard against each other, bodies coming down from your joint high. He slowly pulls out, running a hand down your face. His eyes are full of adoration, admiring your flushed out gaze. You couldn’t resist leaning up and kissing him again, gentle and sweet this time. Locked in his arms, all the pain from Rhysand felt like a long ago story. You knew then that you could live happily anywhere, as long as Azriel was by your side.

***

I hope this was everything you guys wanted!!! The next chapter will be the last 🫣. Thank you all so much for your support and love on this story and I hope you like the ending I have planned <3

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